The first day of summer was the sweetest day of the year, except for the sunlight. It bore down on the streets and thickened the air with heat. It was humid and searing; the cobblestones reflected the heat and made it impossible to escape. With the crowds enjoying the day and filling the streets, there was very little breeze that reached Merrie's level.
She panted as she wound her way through the feet. Pedestrians streamed around her but didn't look down. They never saw her anymore, despite her magic being weakened by the direct sun. Instead, they tried to step aside to unconsciously let her pass, but in the crowds there was little room to maneuver. She was forced to slid along naked legs and bump against bags filled with holiday shopping.
The city celebrated the first day of summer like almost every other holiday, by spending money, getting drunk, and a lot of fucking. She could feel a couple making out in a nearby alley and three other people watching discreetly. A man was giving another one a blow job behind one of the stalls. Further down the line, a husband was fingering his wife as she held her shopping bag in front of her hips with shaking hands; she whispered to him to stop before their son saw it but that only encouraged him to thrust faster and harder.
Merrie smiled and drank in the pleasures. They were sparks against her skin and reminded her of her own near nudity as she moved. Her cloak was the only thing she wore and the black fabric had draped tightly around her to avoid being stepped on. It shifted as she did, moving as naturally as her tail narrowly avoiding brushing people.
Part of her attention was focused on the cloak. If she let her mind relax, she would find jewelry and money hidden in her pockets the next day. The cloak moved constantly, brushing on pockets, and she had to keep it in check to avoid it from grabbing everything she could. Her master was the same way, reflexively stealing even when he didn't need to, but Merrie couldn't figure out why the cloak was taking on his traits.
At first, she wondered if her master was somehow possessing the cloak, but she could find none of his thoughts in the thin fabric, even after inspecting it for a needle-thin connections like she had with Tamin. It moved as her will and only her will. But that meant she was driving the cloak's thievery subconsciously.
(I do not like all these people,) muttered Tamin. He was shadowing her from a nearby alley, flitting between the barriers of the world and Shadows with the grace of a natural creature. With every step, though, she was moving further away from him and into the bright exposure of the Central Plaza. He wanted to follow, but her orders were to keep in the shadows and protect, not add to the struggle to get through the pedestrians.
The Plaza was the largest open space in the city. Unlike the parks and gardens, it was almost entirely cobblestone except for small clumps of buildings, fountains, and other semi-permanent structures. It was filled with vendors and pedestrians, people of all ages and personalities. Illusionists cast spells over the heads of people and the spectral plays cast the entire Plaza in shifting lights. There were stages at both ends and the shows fought to make enough noise to be heard of the din of conversation and the screams of hawkers.
A cacophony of smells rolled over her. Almost every purveyor of food was in the Plaza, selling fresh breads, meats, wines, and treats. Her stomach rumbled as she moved from the street into the cobblestone expanses. She passed a man hawking roasted meats and she relaxed her cloak enough to let it snap out and pluck one right out of his hand. She was eating it before he realized it was gone.
Magic crackled around her, creating a haze as a thousand spells interacted with each other. Wards to protect the stalls and personal protections interfered with the invisibility and repulsion spells. It felt like everyone was trying to find some way of creating space around them and the tension ground down on Merrie.
She wrapped her shade tight against her body and continued down the path. She didn't need a wide space to move in, just enough to slip past legs as she headed straight for the message boards.
The first board, Oak, was erected over a thousand years ago as a place to make announcements. As Franome City grew, so did the number of people who felt the need to make notices, decry some injustice, or look for companionship. One board, Diamond, was dedicated to proposals and a crowd of men and women peered hopefully at it every year, desperately wishing it was their name on one of the thousand pieces of paper that fluttered in the breeze.
Merrie caught the thoughts of a young man staring at the corner of the board. He was looking at a folded piece of pink paper. Another guy's name was on it, but he had written the letter. He was terrified to open it to see if his paramour answered. Reaching out, Merrie found the target of his affection, secretly watching from behind the Ruby message board. She smiled and threw a small domination spell at both of them, forcing them to turn and catch each others eyes.
The letter was quickly forgotten as they stepped toward each other.
Grinning, she made her way past the towering message boards toward the middle. They were arrange six across and twelve deep. Messages were posted to both sides of the boards, but with the crowds pressing against them, no one had a chance to even find the hammer and nails that were normally used to post messages. Instead, they brought their own and the boards shook with the constant pounding and pulling.
Merrie looked up until she found the Obsidian board. Like the others, it was crowded as people peered at the thousands of notices and papers nailed to it. She crept closer, forcing her way past legs until she was right up against the board. Remembering Eolis' directions, she headed to the right side and sat on her knees, peering at the papers herself.
Her pulse was fast in her veins as she stared at the scrawled notes. There was a dizzying array of hand-written and printed letters. Some glowed with magic, mostly illusions, while others pushed her eyes away from looking at them. She tightened her shields and forced herself to look at every one, working systematically through the pages until she reached the end. When she didn't find it, she ducked underneath the board and went to the opposite side. She started again, looking for anything labeled “Lost Alpha”.
As she looked, a young child came up to her. She ignored the little girl until she felt a tiny hand grabbing her tail and pulling. Jumping, Merrie peered over her shoulder at the girl.
The girl smiled broadly as she stared down at Merrie's pale tail.
Merrie frowned and wrapped the shade tighter around herself but the girl continued to tug lightly on her rear. Merrie squirmed uncomfortably and pulled it free.
The girl stared up at her and Merrie was briefly caught in her intense gaze. She felt exposed in the girl's eyes and realized her shade wasn't powerful enough to protect herself from the young one.
Pushing back her fear, Merrie smiled at her and cocked her head.
The girl giggled and clapped her hands. “Doggy!”
Next to the girl, a woman turned around and sighed. She grabbed the girl's arm. “There aren't any dogs here, Dith. This is a festival. No one in the right mind would bring a—”
“Doggy!” The girl pointed directly at Merrie, but the woman didn't even look at the nearly naked bitch.
“Come on! Let's find your brother.”
Dith waved as she was pulled back.
Merrie got into a begging position, cocked her head, and waved back. She smiled broadly until the girl was out of sight.
She was about to return to the board when she realized something. Pulling her tail up, she stared at the end. Her tail was normally blonde, the same color as her hair, but the tip had become white. She didn't know when it happened, but it was as if all the color had been bleached out.
Resting on her ankles, she stroked the tip of her tail. She had lost no sensation in the tip. Every tap and stroke sent a bolt of pleasure through her body, but even the hairs changed color in mid-strand. With a sigh, she let it slip from her arms and got back on her knees. It was a mystery for later.
She turned around and resumed her search for the note. After a few more seconds, she found it. It was a tiny card with an incredibly neat writing. On the front, it said “The Lost Alpha” in block letters. Using her teeth, she tore it from the board and rested it on her wrists. Her cloak flipped it over so she could read the back. “If you obeyed, return where you were given the order at sundown. If you disobeyed, be waiting tomorrow at the southern gate at sunrise.”
She smiled. She was a good bitch and had been properly fucked almost every day for half a year. Except for the initial two days, where she got within hours of disobeying, she was also a well-fucked bitch. She smiled and her tail thumped against someone next to her. She watched the stranger try to bat away her tail and let the card slip into her cloak.
Getting on her knees, she looked around. The line of the board and the press of bodies gave her enough shadows to work. With a grin, she jumped into the darkness and stepped across.
On the other side, the world was deathly silent as mute shadows of people flitted from spot to spot. Creatures of darkness, shadows of crows and rats, chased after the faint images of humanity, trying to feed off the contrast of light and darkness.
Tamin came bounding across the darkness at her. (Alpha!)
Merrie sent him a wave of happiness and then crawled toward the forest that Eolis commanded her. It only took a few steps before she was back to the clearing. Travel in the Shadows was always faster than across reality, even while crawling on her wrists and knees.
She stopped and circled the clearing, looking for people. She noticed the shadow of a single individual, barely visible in the darkness formed by the trees. Closing her eyes, she pushed her senses across.
It was Zeob, Eolis' partner from the wagon. The slender young man was sitting with his back to the tree. He looked like he was casually reading a book, but he was nervous and kept jerking with every sound that drifted through the clearing. Sweat prickled his brow as he clutched the book and his knuckles were white.
Merrie felt a prickle of concern. Pulling back, she spread out her senses through the clearing. There was no magic or wards for a hundred meters in either directions. She could feel the press of people, but only one intelligent being was in the same area.
(Is it a trap, Alpha?)
She sighed and looked around. (I don't know. It feels like something is watching, but I can't find it.)
(I didn't find anything. Only small, tasty things.) A hunger rose up along their connection as he watched a shadow of a squirrel, long separated from its physical counterpart, reliving the actions it did in life.
(It said sundown.) She squirmed as the uncomfortable sensation grew. (Let's wait.)
(May I?) Tamin's thoughts grew excited.
She smiled and settled down on the black grass near Zeob's body, meters away except for the barrier of worlds. (Go on and chase the critters.)
Tamin sent a pulse of excitement and launched himself after the squirrel.
Merrie closed her eyes and kept her senses focused on the other world. She listened to the ebb and flow of the city celebrating along with the intimate flashes of pleasure as Tamin hunted in the darkness.
Two hours later, she was sure no one else was waiting for her. Zeob had finished his book and had a light lunch. He didn't move from the spot, but his nervousness faded with the second book.
She gathered energy and sank through the worlds, never getting up from her spot in the grass. The sensation of crossing over sent a little thrill through her and she breathed in the smells of living grass and fresh earth.
With a smile, she waited.
It took him almost twenty minutes before Zeob realized she was there. He was flipping a page and looked up around him. His eyes passed over her, despite her not using a shade, and he let out a sigh.
And then froze in mid-turn. His emotions exploded into fear and terror and she bit back a moan at the intoxicating feel of it against her mental senses.
She let out a dramatic sigh and her tail began to shake back and forth.
“I-I,” Zeob whimpered as he tried to relax his tense sphincter, “A-Alpha. I was waiting for you.” He glanced up at the light and then scrambled to his feet. “Y-You're early. I-I'm not suppose to call you by name, okay?”
Merrie sat up, the cloak fluttering around her as it wrapped around her naked body. The pressure felt good against her skin and she let let her body rock back and forth as she wagged.
“Does that mean you obeyed?” His cheeks grew flushed as he struggled with his words. “You listened to our, um, mutual friend?”
She opened her mind and listened to his thoughts.
(She's really scary with that black thing moving around her. There isn't enough wind for it to be fluttering like that. I wonder if it is magic. No, it has to be. I've never seen an alpha look like her.) There was fear coloring his thoughts. (But, my love said to check her out.)
As he tried to subtly look over her, Merrie let the cloak pull back way from her body. Her naked body, from hanging breasts to shaved pussy, was exposed to his eyes and she felt a thrill as his discomfort rose. Like Eolis, Zeob was gay. Unlike Eolis, Zeob didn't even care to look at the naked female.
(She, um, seems pretty healthy. I don't see scars or scratches. How do I get her to roll over or, um, let me see her back? He told me to just give her an order, but I can't.) The fear rose up. (Not with those eyes.)
Merrie got a flash of what Zeob saw. Her blue eyes had lost their color, just like her master, and they were a haunting shade of gray on gray. He felt like they were peering into his soul and he started to wish that Eolis could be here instead of him.
She stretched and arched her back. Her breasts rose as did his discomfort. With a sigh, she turned around and got on her knees. Lifting herself up, she spread herself wide and held the position.
(Why did she do that?) He gulped as he looked over her. He saw no signs of damage or even starvation in Merrie's curvy but tight frame. Merrie was at the peak of her health, the perfect bitch, and Zeob's discomfort rose up. He wanted to be anywhere else even as a small, humiliating, thought drifted up. He wished he looked like her, but male. He craved not to be with her, but to have the raw sexuality radiating from her body.
He shook as he closed his book with a light thump. (Why is she holding herself like that? I know I…) The fear sparked again. (Eolis said she could read thoughts, that she was a psychic, but she should have lost that with her… can you read my thoughts?)
Merrie felt playful. She looked over her shoulder at him, catching her with her colorless gaze. With a smile, she gave a single bark.
(Oh, the gods, she's reading. I need to think… what do I do?)
She released her position and turned around. Crawling over, she stopped when she was right next to his feet. With a soft woof, she settled down on his legs to pin them. (Relax,) she projected along with a wave of comfort, the equivalent of a hug, (I'm not going to bite.)
Zeob whimpered, his body trembling. He was submissive enough for her telepathy to work and she listened to him working the words through his head. He was unaccustomed to having foreign thoughts drifting through his mind but quickly adapted.
(Relax,) she repeated. She reached in and caught what would help him relax, much like she had done with every mark she had. With a little flex of her mind, she guided his mind to forget about the breasts against his thighs or her pussy and just pretend that she was an attractive young man, much like Zeob.
The tension drained out of his shoulders. “T-Thank you,” he whispered, “I'm kind of” (new to this.)
Merrie sent another wave of comfort. (You're doing fine.)
“I, um,” (someone might be listening—you can hear me, right—and Eolis told me to be careful. He can't come) “because” (he's being audited. Most collectors have it happen every few years, but its a few days of truth spells, having his geas verified, and his finances reviewed. It's very invasive, but I'm not allowed to be near the wagon while the auditors are there.)
She nodded and rested her chin on his knee. (So, what else are you looking for?)
“I, um, I'm suppose to find out what you've been doing the last five months.”
Merrie closed her eyes. With a gentle push, she showed him what she was doing. Because it would make him uncomfortable, she edited out the sex and despair, but otherwise she sent him the rapid-fire memories of five months.
Zeob tensed up and he gasped. His hand clutched his book as he stared out into nothing. His mind spun furiously as he was shown her life, every day and every night. She guided his mind to take the information and abstract it down into his own words and thoughts.
It took almost an hour to give him her life for half a year. When she finished, she lifted her head and cocked her head.
Zeob gulped. “Um, please tell me before you do that again.” He gave her a pained smiled.
(Would you have let me do it then?)
He looked away and his regret filled his mind. He gulped. (The Shadowed District, do you think you'll free it soon?)
Merrie sighed. It was slow going since she started, mainly because she couldn't find enough orgasms to power her magic. As much as her marks liked to fuck her, it was hard to get the orgasms that threatened to burst out of her head. And when they did, it was just as hard to gather up the excitement instead of sinking into the pleasure. It was about a third gone, but as she erased the shadows from the world, the remaining darkness grew stronger. It would be easier if she just tried to destroy it entirely, but Merrie wanted to keep the shade spell firmly entrenched around her home.
She rested her chin back down. (Maybe half a year to a year.)
(That will help. There are a lot of scared people there. And Eolis might be able to earn some good will by letting some key people know. And then, he might be able to keep everyone away from your home.)
She sent a wave of comfort and a smile. She looked through the trees at the red haze over the mountains. It was almost night and soon the celebrations would be thundering across the city. She could already feel the illusion rituals building up in power. Magic would soon drape almost every surface.
Every year, the festivals had a theme. There was always flowers, cute animals, and mystical beasts as part of the illusions, but the general theme was kept a secret from the general populace. Merrie, with her ability to see magic, already knew it was going to be a river theme as she saw the preparations to turn the air above the streets into fantastic streams of fish, flowers, and plants.
She smiled. She loved the festivals, more so since she could only remember the last few years. It was new to her but also sad. She had lost so much with her master, willingly, but on the nights alone, she missed when her master and Rimmy would fuck quietly under the flashing lights.
“I,” whispered Zeob, “could never do what you're doing.”
Merrie pulled her thoughts from wool-gathering and glanced at him.
“I can't imagine what pain you went through. And, I wish I could do something about it.”
Zeob ladled food into the bowl as he listened to the others. Eolis sat in his chair, looking handsome as usual, as he talked to Bass and Haviston across the table.
“Why can't you break the compulsion from here?” snapped Eolis. "Give me words, a trigger, a charm. Give me something I can use. That girl is alone in the city and I can't do anything about it!"
Haviston sighed and held out his hands. “Because I don't know what went wrong.” He spoke in the monotone that always creeped Zeob out. It was unnaturally that he never raised his voice or even deviated from the dull dictation. "The compulsion was designed to break with the bonding."
Eolis slammed the table. "She bonded, damn it. She almost killed me with shadow magic. And I got very dangerously close to finding out what tentacles in my ass felt like!"
Bass raised an eyebrow.
Eolis snarled at him, his primal nature cracking through his veneer of civilization. Zeob shivered with anticipation and dread. That always meant that Eolis would be fucking him hard at night, to pound away his “dirty nature” as he always called it. His cock twitched with the thought and he began to catalog what he needed near the bed: lubrication, a gag, some bandages.
Haviston continued speaking, "I need to see the compulsion to break it. But, we are bound for three more years not to enter the city. Any chance you can bring her here?"
“No,” snarled Eolis, “because of you.” He reached over and slammed a finger into Haviston's chest. "And that stupid spell of yours. Anything that makes her think about the mill sets her off. And she will fight with all of her powers to make sure she never comes near here or the damn paladin!"
Bass sniffed and looked away. His jaw tightened and the mug he was holding creaked.
Eolis sank down. "Sorry, Bass, I didn't mean…"
The other thriban smiled at Eolis. "She has that effect on people. Adorable, vulnerable, but scary as hell. Kind of like Tabby."
From across the great hall, Tabitha called out. "I heard that!"
Zeob glanced over. Tabitha was teaching the new trainer, a young girl named Fir, how to whip a bitch. Fir had started just that summer but she brought her own bitch when she moved to the mill, a girl her same age that used to be called Ass Licker. Now, she was named Cuthie when she was being bad, though Fir usually called her Cinthia.
Merrie broke out of Zeob's memories as a surge of happiness filled her. Licker looked ecstatic as she was bent over the table, ass sticking out and her tail wagging back and forth. The teenage girl had filled out in the last few years, with wider hips and larger breasts, but she still was recognizable, even through Zeob's memories.
Fir joining the mill was also unexpected. Merrie remembered how Bass maneuvered around Kessler's refusal to allow Licker to be sold by giving her to the teenage girl. But, from the image she got, Fir had found her calling at the mill and Tabitha, of all people, had taken Fir under her wing to teach her.
“I, um, wasn't suppose to let you see that.” Zeob blushed as he looked down at her.
She frowned. (See what?)
(The conversation between Eolis and Bass and Haviston.)
Merrie frowned, she didn't know what he was talking about.
(Just now, I felt you making me remember.)
She still had no clue what he was talking about. She just saw Licker and Fir being taught by Tabitha. There as no Bass or Haviston in Zeob's recollection. She tried to reach back through her own mind, but she felt her attention being dragged back to the young man in front of her.
Merrie kissed his thigh and sent another wave of comfort.
“Actually, we, um, I have a favor to ask you.” (If you don't mind, but Eolis said you wouldn't.)
She smiled and cocked her head again.
(There is a man—Baron Jacir Pollium—damn it, I wasn't suppose to say names–well, Eolis thinks that you could help him with something. And he might be able to help you.) Zeob didn't know how the baron would help Merrie. (If you are willing, I'm suppose to bring you to his inn room. You don't have to.)
Curious, Merrie lifted herself up. Her breasts slid along his arm, sending another pang of discomfort through Zeob. She rested on her knees and wagged her tail, her entire body shifting back and forth with her emotions.
Zeob looked away and then stood up. “We should probably get going. It's a long way to the edge of town.” He pictured an address as he started to plan the route.
Merrie knew the place. It as an inn in the northern part of town, in a relatively rich area that her master preyed on when he was feeling down. The inn had three stories and frequently was a place for drunken parties where the lager flowed, brawls started, and the occasional discrete encounters with the higher-class whores of the guild.
She watched Zeob fumble with his bag. He didn't want to go. Not only because Merrie's near nudity bothered him but also because he was afraid of ruining Eolis' reputation by being caught.
Coking her head, she regarded him. (How will I know him?)
“What?” Zeob froze with his hand in his bag. “Oh, he's in room 302. I have a key.” He dug into his pack looking for it.
(I can get there by myself.)
He gulped and looked up, a guilty look. “You're reading my mind, right?”
She wagged her tail and settled back on her rear. The grass that Eolis had fucked her on tickled her tail and she warmed up at the memory.
“A-Are you sure?” (Thank the gods. Is she going to go there? How can she travel without feet?)
Nodding, she continued to wag her tail. Her breath quickened with anticipation.
Zeob pulled out a thick envelope and a key. He glanced around as he held it out to here. “Here is the key and, um, someone—” (Bass) “—got you some money to help you until winter. There is… a lot in there.” (Thirty grand.) He looked at her. “Um, do you have pockets or something?”
With a grin, Merrie reached out with her cloak and plucked the items from his palms.
Zeob flinched back as she secreted them into the hidden pockets. He gulped. “A-Are you going to be okay?”
Merrie nodded as she gathered power around her. The darkness flowed over her and the shadows grew to pitch-black lines. (Yes,) she projected as she stepped through into the Shadows.
On the other side, she watched as he scrambled back away from her, the fear peaking for a moment. It quickly turned into relief as Zeob packed his bags and rushed away.
Tamin stepped out from the shifting shadows, but said nothing. From his mouth, black blood dripped to the ground.
Merrie sent a wave of love toward him and then headed across the city. In the shadows, there was comforting silence and coolness. She trotted across town with Tamin pacing behind her. She headed for her home first, to get a quick bath and perfume herself, before heading for the inn. By the time she stepped back through the shadows into room 302, the first of the fireworks and illusions were painting themselves across town.
It was a small and functional room, nothing remarkable but still clean. The bed was a double and covered with fresh linens. The center of the bed was indented from a small leather pack that had been tossed in the middle. She could smell cologne drifting from it along with other masculine smells.
She circled it once and then knelt in the middle of the room, facing the door. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind to find the occupant. There was already a party downstairs and the joy filled the room with drunken emotions. Merrie took her time, gazing across the thoughts of people until she found him.
The baron was a young man, in his mid-thirties. He had four of his friends, none of them titled, and they were recalling their youth over large mugs of stout. But, even as he was laughing and joking, there was a pang of sadness inside him and his mind kept drifting back to sadder times.
"Her name is Pris of the Pollium Family."
Jacir stood at the far side of his mother's desk, staring at her with shock. "An arranged marriage? Why? Haven't those gone out of fashion, I don't know, a hundred years ago?"
“Yes, Jacir, but it doesn't change the fact that you have one,” she said as she brushed her graying hair behind her ear. “They're a good family and, twenty years ago, they needed help. They were about to go bankrupt and we loaned them money. The interest is, well,” she smiled, "you two."
"Mother! I'm not a slave to be sold!"
His mother stood up and slapped her hands on her desk. “Look! The Pollium are good, well-bred, and titled. We have money and influence. This is a step up for all of us. You and her will benefit the most, since you'll eventually be in charge of both families.” As he glared at her, she took a deep breath. "Look. Just come to dinner and we'll see from there, okay? I know the girls you chase after and you'll like her. She's very pretty."
He remembered the sullenness he went to the party just to see the woman he was suppose to marry.
She was standing at the top of the stairs, screaming at her parents, Marcus and Patrica. "I'll be damned if I'm going to ruin my life for some… some, gold-digging merchant's son!"
She was curvy, almost fat according to the modern fashion, but she was beautiful. Long black hair cascaded down her back. She had it braided and a dark blue ribbon ducked and flowed around it. She wore a ruffled dress, the fashion of the day, and matching shoes sparkling with sapphires. Her lips were also painted the same shade of blue.
Jacir stared at shock. He had only seen her for a few second, but his heart was already thumping loudly. She reminded him of the women he saw in the older pictures, voluptuous with flowing hair. He knew that when she smiled, she would glow. But, she wasn't smiling. Instead, it was a scowl that marred her heart-shaped face.
His mother elbowed him. "Close your mouth, you're drooling."
Pris turned at the noise and glared down at him. “My god, he's fat,” she said disgustedly.
Jacir blushed. He wasn't skinny but neither was he fat. He had a slight gut despite his efforts. But, in a few short words, she had cut him deep. But, he couldn't stop staring at her.
“Pris!” snapped Marcus.
“I'm not going to marry that… that… thing!” She stormed off. The second floor had a balcony that surrounded the entry hall. As she moved, he turned to watch her until she entered a room and slammed the door.
“You'll have to excuse my daughter,” said Baron Pollium as he came down the stairs. “She has been a bit… opinionated since we told her.” He stopped and took Jacir's mother's hands. With a smile, he kissed her cheek.
“Spoiled,” muttered Patrica as she gave Jacir a perfunctory kiss. “Rotten to the core, I say,” she whispered to Jacir.
Jacir's mother patted his arm. "I'm sure they'll like each other, once they get a chance."
“I hope so,” said the baron, "she's been screaming at me for weeks now. You think she would be more appreciative of the life she has, thanks to you."
“My pleasure, baron,” said his mother, "she's—"
“She's pretty,” said Jacir, his eyes still focused on the upstairs door. In the sharp silence, he realized he said it out-loud. Blushing hotly, he looked around at the shocked looks the three adults were giving him. Trembling, he turned to his mother who was turning dark with anger.
“That's my boy!” bellowed the baron as he clapped Jacir on the shoulders. It hurt, but Marcus hugged him tightly to his broad chest. "I knew I was going to like you!"
As she floated through Jacir's alcohol-inspired memories, Merrie crafted an illusion for him. It wasn't a physical one, but just enough to enhance the idea she was Pris. When Jacir saw her, he would see black hair and curves, the impression of a woman he loved with all his heart.
For three years, Jacir courted Pris. It was a stormy relationship with times of screaming winds and calm. The calm periods were the worse because they ended too soon. She would warm up to him and smile brilliantly, but then something happened and she quickly reverted back to the selfish bitch. He wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or slap her, but frequently it was both.
He couldn't leave, no matter how many times she hit him or insulted him. Because, out of the blue, her eyes would softened and the apologies would come. Her smile stole his heart away and he longed to see it again.
It was a bright and sunny day, but there was no joy in the house. Jacir sat on the couch with his hands on the baron's shoulder. The sobs shuddered through the man's shoulder as he sat crouched over the edge, his face buried in his hands. Tears ran down his arms and he cried out.
"Why? Why would someone steal my baby?"
*A city guard, a valiant, stood at attention before Marcus, but his head was bowed respectfully. “I'm sorry, Baron Pollium, but we just found out ourselves. Witnesses say that there was a suspicious thriban watching her when she was out, um, celebrating.”
Jacir sighed. Pris had stolen almost ten thousand marks for a party, and left him in a lurch. He had to borrow money from some accounts to pay for the supplies that came in that morning. It wasn't the first time she did it, but he wished she understood how much risk she put both families into when she stole friviously.
"There was a bar fight and when the witnesses went looking for her, they were both gone."
“But,” the baron said as he looked up, "why hasn't there been a ransom demand? Didn't they knew who she was?"
The guard nodded curtly. “She's alive, we are absolutely sure of that, but something is preventing us from finding her. There are wards protecting her and there are suggestions that she is no longer in Franome City.” The guard stood straighter. "I will cooperate with your own investigators, of course, and I won't rest until I find your daughter."
Merrie's skin crawled. She knew what happened to Pris. Bass had kidnapped her and made her a bitch like herself. Her stomach clenched with fear as she pulled back, fearing to delve deeper.
Downstairs, Jacir excused himself and headed up the stairs. The beer had turned to ash in his mouth and he needed some time alone. As much as he wanted to believe Eolis, there was no way anyone would ever reminded him of Pris again.
Jacir sat at the dining room table but his heart had dropped into his stomach.
“What,” gasped the baron, "did you say?"
The valiant held his hands together. He was still dripping from the rainstorm that pounded on the walls. "We found her, my lord, but she has been… damaged."
Marcus stared in shock, his mouth open but no words came out.
Next to him, Patrica stared down at her plate, a stricken look on her face. Her fork trembled with her thoughts.
Jacir spoke up quietly. "How? How was she hurt?"
The valiant turned to him and his eyes were shimmering with tears and regret. “Her arms and legs, they were… were,” he coughed, "they call it cropped. The man who took her, a fallen paladin named Bassimar, specializes in am… he cuts off their limbs before he sells them."
The baron choked on his sobs. “Sells them? Why?” The tears ran down his cheeks and splashed on the plate.
“As,” the guard swallowed, "sex slaves. Part of the Blood County fair."
“No,” said the baron as he surged to his feet. "No one sells my baby as a fucking slave!"
The valiant straightened. "My men are ready. We don't have much authority in Blood County, but my captain is talking to the Royal Army to see if we can—"
“No,” interrupted Patrica. "N-No, please."
Everyone stared at her as she looked up at them. There were tears in her eyes as she stared at her husband. “Pris is a spoiled bitch. She doesn't appreciate the life we have or the life that he,” she gestured to Jacir, “has given us. So, let her,” the tears began to ran, "get a taste of that life and maybe she will understand."
The baron turned on her said, his face darkening. "How could you let—"
She stood up as the sorrow faded into anger. “She's fucking, spoiled princess! We all love her, but she won't stop stealing! We have to do something otherwise she's going to make one too many mistakes and ruin everything. Maybe, just maybe, she'll learn that life isn't all roses with this… man who kidnapped her.” She sat back down hard. “Look, nothing else seems to make a difference. Let's just,” she choked, "keep her there and when the auction comes around, have Jacir buy her."
“B-But, that man… he hurt my baby,” said Marcus as he shook his head.
“I-I'll,” Jacir said, “I'll pay for a healer. I'll do whatever needs to be done. I promise.” Jacir held his breath, unsure of what to say or do. The idea of his precious Pris being raped by some stranger sickened him, but he could see some truth in Patrica's words. Nothing had changed Pris in the years he knew her.
“Valiant,” the baron said in a low voice, "thank you. If we need you, I'll send a word."
And Merrie finally understood why Eolis thought she would help. She stripped off her cloak and sent it underneath the bed. It flowed and shifting as it settled into place. Naked, she pulled herself up into a begging position and wrapped herself in illusion.
She felt his steps down the hallway and her heart thumped with every thud. Her skin crawled and she gulped as she wagged her tail. Her pussy had grown slick as she crawled through his memories and she squirmed to feel her wet lips rubbing against each other.
The door handle creaked as he fitted the key in the lock. Yawning, he stepped inside. “Just a few minutes, then I'll go back… down…” He jerked as he stared into the room, his eyes focusing on her. “P-Pris?”
Merrie felt sudden longing burning inside him. He didn't believe what he saw. She wagged her tail and barked sharply, her voice echoing against the walls.
“I-It can't be.” A sob rose up in his throat. His knuckles cracked as he gripped the side of the door. “You… you're dead. Aren't you?”
Merrie's skin prickled at his words. She didn't know that Pris had died, but the familiar despair was there. She felt the sympathetic pain in her own heart. It didn't have the same consuming despair that tore at her, but it was a loss that she knew intimately.
He gulped. “A-Are you real-really there?” He took a step closer. “How can this be?” In his mind, he was stunned that somehow Eolis' sly response had come true. When he looked at Merrie, he saw a woman that looked just like Pris.
She barked again, her tail rocking back and forth. She was going to be his lover, even if it was just for one night.
The door creaked as he shut it. The latch caught with a loud click. The room grew silent with only Jacir's deep breaths and Merrie's soft panting.
“I-I don't know how he did…,” his voice cracked as he stared at her, “but, please… just stay?” He took a step toward her. He stumbled and lost his balance. With a lurch, he dropped to his knees and hit the ground with a thud. It sounded painful, but he reached out and grabbed her with the same movement. His weight bore down on her for a moment before he pulled her close and crushed her in a hug. “Pris, I love the gods. I can't believe it's you. Oh, Pris, Pris.”
Merrie's breasts were squeezed painfully against his chest and she felt the buttons cutting into her skin. The rough trousers scraped at her inner thighs and she straddled him to avoid twisting her leg. She could feel his attention, even through the tears, as her amputated leg ran along his thigh.
For a long time, he just held her as he struggled with his emotions. Years of sorrow and pain were buried inside him. It was a iceberg in his mind, with most of it hidden deep in the darkness of his subconscious. There were layers and pockets of anger and loved mixed together. He loved Pris and he hated her. As much as he blamed himself for letting her remain at the mill, he also hated her for stealing the money and spending it on trinkets and parties. It was the attention-seeking that Pris did that drew the attention of Bass, he was sure of it. If she just listened, or at least didn't do it as much, then she would still be alive.
She wanted to help, but he didn't know what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her more and he wanted to hit her. The pain mixed in with love. Jacir held her tighter as he sobbed, his mind paralyzed with too many conflicting needs.
Merrie leaned into him and trying to find some way of bringing the love up. It was tender and sweet, fueled by the memories when Pris wasn't screaming at him. But even she had trouble.
Instead, she decided to work out the anger. She could polish the joyful Pris' memories once Jacir burned through his anger. She worked a quick spell that tied in just a small hint of her own anger and despair. It was a crystalline and calligraphic enchantment, crafted from psychic and shadow magic. With a delicate shove, she cast it.
The effect was immediate. His body tightened around her and he inhaled. The anger rose up, bubbling with heat, and she brought up the times when Pris was a bitch. She reminded Jacir of all the things she did wrong, each one ending with her stealing money to wrap herself in dresses, jewelry, and sycophants.
Jacir pushed her back and wiped the tears from his face. “Damn it, Pris, why did you have to throw those parties?”
Merrie snapped at him, playing her role. She could feel the anger rising and she knew it was going to hurt, but Jacir needed it. Her pussy clenched with need. She needed it too. She needed to be hurt and dominated and it was coming. A sweet anticipation that brought a quickening rise to her breasts and a heat spreading out along her limbs. She snapped again, bitching back with a click of her teeth.
His hand came down and across her face. The crack of his palm against her cheek was an explosion of pain. Stars sparked across her vision as she gasped for breath.
Merrie knew he was going to hit, but she wasn't quite expecting the impact. Her pussy clenched with anticipation and she gave him another jolt with a flash of anger.
Jacir backhanded her, his knuckles smacking against her face and shoving her to the side. “Why did you keep stealing?” he growled, “This was all your fault!” His hand came back across, catching her burning cheek and tossing her back to the side.
Whimpering, Merrie felt a heat rushing inside her. She got back into position. She was trembling with anticipation, not only from the pain but also the heat from the crack of flesh. She rose back into a begging position just as he caught slapped her again and again. The blows came faster as he lost himself in the anger.
Even though she was seeing stars, Merrie felt a strange sense of relief and excitement. He was abusing her and the curls of power and excitement filling her. She leaned into the smacks, accepted them even as her world turned to sparks of light.
Jacir smacked her arms away and slapped her breasts. Her nipples exploded into agony and she had to fight to keep herself in position. His palm rained down against her breasts, crushing them against each other and adding to the fire. More blows landed on her face, her shoulder, her breasts.
His emotions came in a rush, as if they were breaking through an ice flow. He stepped into the blows, hitting her hard enough to send her to the floor. Before Merrie could push herself up, he was on her. One hand grabbed her hair and he yanked her up.
She let out a cry of surprise as he bent her backwards over his knee. She was balanced on her shoulders, her legs flailing out as she tried to gain some balance. He smacked down on her belly, her breasts, her thighs. She couldn't escape the blows, even if she wanted to. The pain was too much to concentrate, but she was also writhing in both pleasure and pain. It swirled together and her pussy clenched right before each hit, each smack.
“I would have done everything for you!” He hit her pussy with his open palm. The popping noise sent a bolt riding up her spine and she cried out. “Damn you for going off on your own. It wasn't safe. I knew it wasn't. I-I should have stopped you.” Another hit, this one against her breasts. It crushed her nipple and she sobbed at the impact. “I love you. I loved you the day I saw you and you,” he hit her face twice, “you even said you loved me!” Another set of slaps that worked down her belly, against her abdomen, and to her pussy. His palm cracked against her sex and she jerked violently with an orgasm. When he pulled his hand back, her juices were glistening on his palm.
“Damn you to the hells, Pris!” His fingers slapped against her pussy and crushed her lips. It sent a bolt of pain, but he wasn't done. His hand came down again and again against her sex, crushing her clitoris and bruising her labia.
She writhed in the pain even as she was coming from it. It was agony being unable to escape, but he bent her back over his knee to get access to her. She flailed her leg, the short end jerking in air. The sight of it seemed to push him harder and he hit her again and again, slamming into her until she was sobbing with need.
(Alpha?) came Tamin's worried thoughts.
(I'm,) her thoughts flashed with pain, (safe.)
(You are hurt.) Tamin was close to them, hiding just centimeters away on the other side of the shadows. She could feel his growl through her mind. (I must defend my alpha.)
Jacir struck again, his knuckles crushing against her clitoris.
(Stay,) she commanded even as she was screaming out in pain. She pawed at him, which only pushed him harder and faster. She pulled away from Tamin as she felt his anger continuing to rise.
He yanked down harder on her hair, dragging her up along his leg until the small of her back was pressed against his thigh.
She felt vulnerable and exposed. An orgasm rushed up and took her as he rained down against her face and breasts again. His hand smacked hard against her body, torturing her while it sent her into heights of pleasure. She leaned into each blow, sobbing with each spasm.
He released her hair and she slid down until her neck was against his thighs. He reached out and wrapped his hands around her throat, his body tense with anger.
And Merrie felt herself losing control over him. As his hand tightened around her neck, she stared into the blank mask of rage.
(Alpha!)
It was too much for her. With a desperate surge, Merrie forced her will into Jacir's mind, stopping his body in an instant. The fingers were already tight around her neck and she could barely breathe. As she stared up into his eyes, she felt her body shuddering with orgasms that ran their course. Her breasts and body burned with his slaps and punches, a brand against her skin.
Even though his body couldn't move and she wouldn't let him consider why, his eyes regained their sanity. The focus came back and the massive emotions sank down into his subconscious. She could feel parts of it crumbling from the anger that no longer bound him tight, but there was far more than she could ever handle in a single night.
Catching her breath, she released her control over him.
Jacir looked at her and gasp. His eyes widened as he released her throat. “Oh, Pris, I'm sorry.” He grabbed her tight and pulled her trembling body close to his chest.
Merrie felt bruised and broken. Her skin protested the movement, but the despair and hope that burned inside him helped her push away the pain. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his chest.
“I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Please, please,” he whispered into her ear. He held her tight, reminding her of all the pains she experienced. Up close, she could feel him growing aware of her naked form against his body and the smell of her excitement in the air.
“They made you a bitch, Pris,” he whispered, “I was going to buy you. I was going to save you. But,” he took a deep breath, “but, I couldn't.”
Jacir pushed Merrie down on the ground. The hard surface against her back was cold, but she looked up as Jacir as he positioned himself over her, towering and powerful.
She pressed her legs together and almost came as he forced them apart. His thigh was rough against her skin as he jammed down on her. His trouser buttons dug into her pussy, adding to the pain from the throbbing folds.
“You're still a bitch,” he gasped as he struggled to remove his trousers. “And you still don't know how good your life was….”
When he got his cock out, he shoved it into Merrie's wet slit. It sank clear down to the base. The rough fabric of his trousers ground into her battered pussy limps and she whimpered at the pain.
Jacir regretted it, but he needed her. He needed to fuck her and remind her. The anger was being held back, but a small trickle still escaped Merrie's control. “Take it, bitch. Take what you wouldn't accept before they did this to you.” He drew back, his cock dragging against her senses. With the pain from his beating, she felt every ridge as it was drawn out of her sex. The scent of her pussy drifted across her senses, filling her with a shameful lust.
The slap against her breast connected her aching nipple to her pussy. She almost came as he hit her again and again. Each one landed in a different place. She wanted to crawl away, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned into the blows and whimpered exactly the way he needed to hear her cry.
She tensed as he reached the opening of her pussy. With a grunt, Jacir slammed it home again, crushing her against the hard wooden floor and his body. She felt every pulse of his cock throbbed deep in her sex, scraping against her nerves. It hurt and it was pleasure.
Jacir slammed into her and pulled out. He buried his cock into his bitch with hard, brutal strokes. It wasn't for her pleasure, it wasn't for his. It was to prove that he loved her.
He drove her into the floor, slamming into her deep. Every stroke scraped against her nerves and every centimeter of her skin felt on fire. his trousers dragged on her inner thighs and pussy. The hard ground smacked against her back and ass. Every stroke became a wave of pain and her pussy clenched hard around his cock, squeezing it as she whimpered.
“Why did you leave me? Why did you have to keep leaving me?”
They were at a celebration of the crown prince's birthday. Jacir and Marcus wore their finest suits, but they were alone at one of the tables. Neither looked at each other and neither had anything to say.
When Pris was killed at the Puppy Mill, Jacir went almost insane with grief. He felt helpless and scared. He loved her, he wanted to tell her that, but their last words were a screaming fight when he realized she had just stolen money.
Patrica, on the other hand, took the news worse and her suicide still hung over both men. It was Patrica's idea to leave Pris at the mill, to teach her a lesson, but when she had died, it had destroyed her. Less than a day after getting the news, Patrica had hung herself from the bedroom rafters.
That was a year ago.
Now, they sat alone and didn't look at each other. Society mandated they showed up to the party, but neither man was interested. They simply waited for for the midnight hour when they could return to their respective homes.
"Count Rakin, so kind to see you. It's been what, two years?"
Jacir glanced up to two men speaking only a few meters away. He didn't know the one man, but Count Mard Rakin was a well-known figure in the royal circles. Despite living in the outer duchies, he was considered one of the richest men in the country. The powerfully-built figure tugged on his white-streak beard and smiled back.
"Just about, old man. What have you been up to? Any interesting wars?"
"Oh, just the usual. Barbarians of Emberka are rising up again. Something about a World Tree growing in the middle of their country."
Rakin snorted. "It's probably just a large weed. Everyone knows there can't be two World Trees on the continent."
"True, true. They are idiots. So, I heard you got yourself an alpha."
Rakin's expression darkened. "Had an alpha."
"You killed the bitch already? Even you—"
“No,” growled the count, "the fucking bitch ran away."
The other man laughed. "And you didn't break her legs?"
"No, she is cowering behind a fucking fallen paladin named Bass."
Jacir jerked at the name. He glanced up to see Marcus watching him. Together, they lowered their heads as they listened to the covnersation.
"What did you do?"
"Exactly what you expected. I sent an army down there and attacked."
"No more fallen? You should be made a saint."
Count Rakin sighed and drained his glass of wine. "No."
"The great Rakin lost a battle?"
"Careful, I'm not in the fucking mood. No, I won but I couldn't kill him or her. It was… complicated and I lost a lot of men in that fight. But, I still got my revenge. He had other bitches, ones he couldn't protect, and I managed to steal them away while he was slaughtering my army."
The man chuckled. "Fucked them good and proper?"
“Raped them, tortured them, and killed them right in front of the paladin.” Rakin laughed, "He got his power from oaths and the idiot made promises not to let the bitches get hurt. Naturally, I broke all those fucking promises. Almost killed the bastard too, but I'd be surprised if he could walk again after what I did to those bitches."
At both men's laughter, Jacir clutched his fists together. He wanted to rise up and punch the count, but he couldn't. He didn't have a title, much less any authority. Even Marcus couldn't do anything, not as a baron and not for something that happened years ago on the far side of the country.
Marcus was crying, the tears splashing down his cheeks. He was just as helpless against the powerful count, and both of them knew it.
There was one marker in the graveyard at the Puppy Mill that didn't have a name. She knew that Bass searched far and wide to identify the girls who died when Rakin came for Sable. It sickened her to think about going back, but she could finally give Bass and Sable closure and fill in that empty space: “Pris Pollium, Beloved Daughter.”
Jacir grabbed Merrie tightly, his cock deep in her pussy. He crushed her against his chest as he sobbed into her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Pris. I wanted to save you. I wanted to be your hero. But, I couldn't. I failed. I failed you so much and there is no away to ask for forgiveness.”
Merrie, tears in her own eyes, held him tight and let him cry. She felt the pain of his loss, both from his memories and the way he clutched to her body. She let the illusion fall away, Jacir didn't need Pris anymore that night.
Jacir looked at her, seeing her as Merrie and not Pris. The tenderness broke but he held himself still until the tears stopped coming. Then, he broke the embrace and sat back on the ground. His cock, glistening with cum and juices, smacked against the ground. He looked over her again, taking in her amputated arms and legs. “I-I'm sorry, um, I never got a name.”
Merrie shrugged.
“Y-You don't mind me calling you Pris, do you?”
She smiled and shook her head.
Jacir stood up and staggered to the bed. “I-I don't know if I can take any more right now, but,” he turned around and tossed her a roll of money, “I owe you that.”
Merrie glanced down. It was two thousand marks. She pushed it under the bed where her cloak swallowed it.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, his face and inner thighs wet. With a long sigh, he buried his face in his hands. “C-Could you leave?”
Summoning her cloak, Merrie waited until it wrapped around her. She felt the rawness of his emotions, but there was nothing more she could do that night. He needed time alone to heal before he tried again.
“Hey, Pris?”
She stopped and looked back at him.
“You'll do this again, right? I'll pay you anything you need. Please? I need to see her again.”
He sat on the edge of Marcus' bed, holding the old man's hand firmly as he watched the light fading from his adopted father's eyes. “I promise, I'll get him. I'll make Rakin pay for what he did.” He sniffed and wiped his face. "I-I just don't know how."
Marcus groaned and lifted his other hand, pointing to his desk. When Jacir didn't move, he pointed again.
“There's something?” Reluctantly, Jacir pulled his hand away from his father's and circled the bed. The desk was sloppy but he had been handling the baron's paperwork for years since Pris. He flipped through the familiar bills and letters. At the bottom, he found an envelopes with a seal still on it. The seal was from the Court of Lands on it, the organization that managed the allocation of counts and dukes along with recording rewards of land and title. Head spinning, he held it up.
“Yes,” gasped Marcus, “bring… here.” He coughed.
Jacir rushed back, sitting down and handing the envelopes over.
Marcus' fingers slid along the envelope as he tried to grab it. When he couldn't, he tapped it. "My will. You… everything."
Jacir shook his head. "No, I can't."
"Take the title. Baron Pollium. Please? And never forget my baby."
Tears running down his cheeks, Jacir gulped. He sniffed and looked into Marcus' eyes and saw the life fading quickly. It wasn't coming back. Gasping, he crushed the envelope as he held Marcus' hand. "Yes, I will."
Marcus was smiling when he died.
Merrie bowed her head, fighting the tears from the memory. She barked once.