Merrie's body solidified as she came up inside the dark wagon. Her tail brushed against a wooden shelf as she settled into place and looked around. It was dark in the back, but she gave the comforting shadows no attention. The entire back of the wagon was lined with narrow shelves, each one was three centimeters tall but wide enough for a half-meter wide painting to be slipped between the slats. The shelves reached from floor to ceiling and held hundreds of paintings.
She knew what a few of the paintings looked like. Catais Milliford, who always used his full name when he spoke, spent every breakfast and evening painting near the fire. For the first three days of the journey, he had a crowd watching curiously but by the fifth day, only a few including Merrie hung around to watch his graceful strokes.
Catais was not what she expected. Her first encounter with him, outside of Gillette's memories, was watching him bathe in the river with the other farmers and merchants. The water around him was stained blue and yellow and she enjoyed how the swirls of color became green as they coursed along the currents.
Unfortunately for one of the merchants, he wasn't paying attention and got caught in the color. Two days later, the thin merchant was still complaining about his dick being stained green.
Merrie's tail wagged slowly as she peered into the shelves. Catais was meticulous in his actions. There was no clutter in his wagon, only shelf after shelf of paintings. Each painting was nestled into place and held with a wooden latch. Below each painting, on the far right, there was a card in neat handwriting that indicated where he painted it.
She peered at the nearest card with a smile. Podaris Family, Green County, 3/781-200. Curious, she unlatched the painting with her cloak and eased it out. It was a winter scene of a farm house with smoke billowing out of the chimney.
House and Brown Family, Ricie County, 3/780-720. A late summer painting of children playing in a field.
Silver-River Commune, Ricie County, 3/780-722. Despite being painted two days later, the commune was completely different with rain pouring down gutters and an old man bathing in the waterfall. The detail was incredible, from the wrinkles and scars of years of farming, but also the innocent look as if the man didn't know he was being painted.
Merrie eased the pictures back and lifted up. There were hundreds of them in the back of the wagon. Hundreds of scenes from the farms and villages in the countryside. Catais specialized in the lives of those living outside of cities and he painted with a skill that gave life to the painting.
She closed her eyes and opened up her mental senses. There was another reason she sneaked into the back of his wagon. The paintings had more than a physical presence; there was a psionic imprint on each one. She missed the magic when he was painting, but it pricked her attention when he brought out five of them to show how a farm changed over fifty decades.
Feeling foolish, she looked around. She didn't know if she was crafting some paranoid delusion or not. But she wanted to know if the paintings were anything more than art. She also suspected that she was breaking into the wagon because there was nothing else to do. For the last five days, she had sat in a wagon, fucked merchants and farmers and guardians alike, and hunted with Tamin. The caravan ended up being over two hundred people, mostly farmers, that were heading to the southern counties for seasonal work or to return home.
The only interruption was so far was when a pair of rabid bears attacked the caravan. Between Gillette, Tamin, and herself, the attack lasted less than five seconds.
She sighed and concentrated on the nearest painting. She was expecting to sense a crystalline spell, but Catais' magic was just like his painting, a swirl of colors with intricate detail and precision. She saw how the loops of his brush matched the spell and that almost all of strokes glowed with different magic.
It wasn't the hard rigid spells she expected from a psionic, but closer to her own calligraphic spells. But, magic was magic and she inspected the spells.
The easiest enchantments were the preservation spells. They were tinged with a sense of slowness and protection, a variation of her armor spells. Her tail stopped wagging as she lost herself in the intricate crafting of the spell. It wasn't the raw power of the Loyal's armor or the spells that she was taught. Instead, his protections worked with the medium, swirling and layering.
A smile crossed her lips. She could learn something from his magic. The brush strokes were closer to the shifting shadows.
(You're suppose to be inspecting, Alpha, not learning.)
Her tail resumed wagging. (I can do both.)
Setting aside what she learned from the spell, she delved deeper into the spells that made up each painting. There was more, far more than she expected: subtle charms that gave the painting the sense of life and reality; charms to draw the eye to it, a painted form of Presence; and also some sort of memory charm that plucked at her memories but she couldn't identify its purpose. The final spell was the most complicated. It used the entire painting and more, but the intricacies of the spell were far more complicated than anything but the enchantments on her collar.
“You know—”
Merrie shivered at Catais' wry voice filling the back of the wagon.
“—I would have just shown you the pictures if you asked.”
Guilty, Merrie peered over to where the paint-stained man stood in the door leading to the front of the wagon. He had a painting in his hand and was surrounded by the smell of fresh paint.
He was smiling and she noticed he was missing a tooth. “You're Shades, right?”
Letting her cloak melt away, Merrie used her nose to push the painting back into place and latched it.
“I saw your shadow moving.”
Her ears flattened against her chest. (Sorry.)
Catais' eyebrow rose. “Telepathic?”
She barked.
“With a framework of some sort. Gillette said something about that. You act like a dog? Is that were your power comes from?”
Merrie worried her lip and then barked again.
“Well, I know I'm not suppose to give puppies lagers, but would you like one? You seem like you'd like a good lager.”
She nodded and stepped away from paintings. Her body made no noise as she crawled the length of the wagon and up in the front.
Catais stepped back and gestured to the tiny room. “Welcome to my home.”
It was the smallest part of the wagon, not much larger than a closet. His bed was narrow, barely a meter across with two thin blankets on it. The rest of the room was filled with painting supplies, each tube slid into a square shelf that reached three meters from floor to ceiling. His easel, the one she saw out by the nightly fires, dominated the corner of the room but it was empty at the moment.
“It isn't much, but my life is painting and travel.” He sat down on a tall stool. “And I don't really have guests in here.”
Merrie smiled and nodded. She glanced around before sitting down.
“No, no, you're much too short. You can sit on the bed if you want.”
Feeling guilty at being caught, Merrie looked up at the bed. It was just over a meter off the ground with short drawers underneath it. She sighed and flowed up to it, reappearing as she settled down on the thin mattress. It had the familiar smell of man mixed in with the stench of paint. She thought the sheets were gray at first, but then she realized it was just layers of paint that had stained the colors into a shifting gray. (I'm sorry.)
“No, no, I don't mind. I knew you were psionic and,” he chuckled, “far more capable than me. I missed it the first few days, your repulsion spell is rather powerful, but when you were fending off…” He coughed, “I mean eviscerating those rabid beasts when I saw it.”
Merrie blushed. Eviscerate was probably the nicest thing anyone said about the attack. She also heard “disemboweled” and “exploded” used more than once.
(I like mauled,) supplied Tamin, (also tasty.)
She giggled and tried to concentrate on the man in front of her.
“Your dog? He's a familiar?”
Merrie shrugged. (Sort of. More like part of my pack.)
“Kind of strange seeing you crawl around. But, there seems to be a lot of guys and a few girls interested in you. I've had requests to make a painting of you, actually seven of them. I think they don't want to forget you.”
Her tail thumped against the wall. She knew the lust that others had for her. It was part of her life and also why she had a steady stable of customers in Franome City.
“I've love to paint you, though. You seem,” he leaned forward, “fascinating.”
Her skin grew warm at his low voice. It was sensual and comforting, but not sexual. She reached out with his mind, slipping through his shifting shields delicately. He didn't respond as she brushed along his surface thoughts. There was no sexual desire for her, or for anyone else as far as she could tell.
His eyes trailed over her body, following her curves but no lust bubbled up through his mind. Instead, he was imagining painting her, the swirl of his brush and how he would swirl her colors together. Though he didn't want to fuck her, he was looking at her more intimately than anyone else had ever seen her before. She felt naked and exposed to his intensely brown eyes.
Blushing, she cleared her throat. (What spells are you putting into those paintings?)
He smiled broadly enough for his teeth to be visible. “To the point, not what I expected. It's hard to see personalities from magic, but I would expect the shifting and sliding part of your mind would reflect your nature.” He chuckled and swirled his fingers in the air. “One more reason why I love painting people. The unexpected.”
(I have enemies right now and I'm just a little nervous. Gillette never said you could use psionic magic.)
“I don't exactly advertise it.” He gestured to the paint. “Ruins the mystique of the wandering painter. People want to see the pictures of happier times and their memories without thinking that someone is stealing them away. Or forcing them to fall in love with it.”
(There is a memory charm on them.)
“It's a spell, but yes. I am,” he chuckled, “stealing them in a way. Well, copying them. I love the raw slices of someone's life. Those moments where no one thinks it is special but, years later, they realized it was those quiet times they missed the most. So, I paint and keep them. In my house and warehouse.”
(Why?)
“To bring them back. Those five pictures I showed this morning? The farm burned down earlier this year and the family was about to give up. For five generations I've painted that family. So, I pulled them out and brought them back. I give hope and encouragement, to show what they were lost and why they need to recover.”
(What do you get out of it?) Merrie frowned as she looked at the paint-stained room.
“Oh, money of course. The various building guilds pay me as does the Rebuilders and the Engineering guilds. Occasionally I get donations. I'm a follower, of sorts, with the Guardians since I help the healing process after devastation and disaster. Mostly, I just like helping people.”
She smiled. (I can see why Gillette likes you.)
“Yeah, that walking wall of muscles was a little boy when I first met him. Their entire village was destroyed by a necromancer and a horde of undead. He lost his mother and had to kill his own father while protecting his brother.”
Her tail and ear flattened against her head as she remembered the memory in his head.
“I think that is why his brother's death was so devastating. So much pain and death has followed him. I was glad it didn't corrupt him into darkness like so many others.” Catais sighed. “I tried to show him the better times, but it was too late. The world had ground down on him. I painted his marriage to Gwen and Tara and prayed to all the gods that listened that he would find happiness. But… they died during the second plague.”
(I saw.)
“Poor man. So much hope crushed every time. I'm glad to see that he's found his calling, but I don't think he would ever commit to someone again. Everyone he loved has died in his arms.”
She thought about the times he rejected her, the hopefulness that suddenly turned into despair. With a sigh, she slumped to the bed. (Is that why he rejected me?)
Catais nodded sadly. “He's had a hard life.”
Guilt slammed into her. She stared at the paint and try to fight it. There was more to Gillette than what she saw, she knew that already, but his actions began to make more sense.
“You know…” started Catais, “I don't get a chance to talk shop with anyone. Think there is anything we can, you know, trade? I can teach you some memory spells.”
Merrie raised her gaze to him. (I know combat spells.)
He chuckled. “Do I look like I want to get into a fight? I'm close to three hundred years old.”
She thought about his life. (I also know searching spells and time-keeping. It might be helpful for finding people who need help. I don't know about range, but I can usually sense things about a kilometer away.)
His smile brought a smile to her own lips. “I'd love to trade then. Maybe also a painting, of you? You don't have to be naked.”
Merrie glanced down at her body. (I'm always naked.)
Another chuckle. “Then I insist you are naked.”
Her tail wagged back and forth. (Deal.)
“Well, how about first thing in the morning? I learn the best right after I have food in my belly and before the summer sun bears down on me. Plus,” he gestured to the bed, “I was about to take a nap.”
Blushing, Merrie jumped off the bed. (Sorry.)
“You didn't know.” He patted her on the head as they swapped places in the room. With a thump, he sat down heavily on the bed. “You don't need me to open the door, right?”
With a giggle, Merrie melted into shadows and slipped away, leaving the painter in place. (What do you think, Tamin?)
(He seems nice, though I worry about another psychic in this caravan. He's an unknown.)
(At least there aren't any other mages here.) The only other magic Merrie saw were minor spells for starting fires and cooking. Actually, there were very few combative people in the dozens of wagons making their way along the road. Most of the caravan cowered during the bear attack and the other guardians didn't have a chance to even pull out their swords before she and Gillette finished the creatures off.
She reformed as a black hound next to Catais' wagon. Bounding forward, she headed for the front where Gillette and another guardian were leading the way. Both men were riding horses, but she was amused by Gillette's discomfort with his mount.
Tamin appeared next to her, slipping from the shadows to join her.
As she approached the horses, she reached out and let Gillette know she was close.
Gillette chuckled. (Were you out hunting?)
Merrie grinned. She had been providing fresh food for the caravan. Though, she loved fucking, it was nice to get out and just let the animistic urges take over. The taste of blood on her mouth and the thrill of the hunt.
Tamin bumped against her. (Any other urges?) His amusement was tinged in hope. (Prey-like urges?)
Merrie moaned softly and let the images drift through her mind: of Tamin hunting her down in the underbrush, the rush of fear as she tried to escape her hunter, and the final moment when he pinned her to the ground with teeth at her throat and cock pounding into her body. A fire grew in her sex as she sank into Tamin's suggestion.
There was something she wanted, but she was afraid to take the last step. The collar would bring her back to life if she did. She was terrified of dying, but there was desire bubbling in the back of her mind. She wanted to know what it felt like to have her throat ripped out as she was fucked, to be torn apart and recovered. It was a guilty thought that humiliated her, but she knew it was just a matter of time before she took the plunge.
(Tonight?)
Merrie rolled her eyes, letting the strength spell pump through her veins, and then slammed Tamin as hard as she could.
The black hound flew away from her and slammed into a tree, snapping the tree trunk, before crashing into another tree. A flash of lust and pain burst along the connection and she squeezed her legs to prevent the trickle of excitement from running down her thighs.
Gillette responded first, jumping off his horse as his scythe swung around.
Merrie flushed and sent a quick thought toward him, along with the image of what just happened. (It was me.)
The other guardian was slipping off the horse when Gillette groaned. Thumping his scythe on the ground, he sighed. “False alarm.”
“What was it?” asked the other man.
Gillette looked around, his eyes searching for her. She let the shade drop for him and gave him a sheepish grin. The humiliation and embarrassment only added to the flames licking at her sex. “Bad girl,” he muttered.
The other guardian groaned. “Fucking mages!” He sat down heavily in his saddle and yelled in the general direction. “Stop fucking running around invisible!”
Merrie giggled and concentrated on Gillette. (Sorry. I was just—)
Tamin bounded from the side of the road, his teeth bared. Black shadows clung to his body.
With a squeal, Merrie let the shade drop from her body and she shot off ahead of the caravan. Her black paws pounded on the ground as made no effort to hide her presence.
Behind her, Tamin howled as he charged after her.
She cast strength into him to ensure she was caught. With a giggle, she dove to the side and into the underbrush. Branches and thorns scraped against her skin as she crawled over rocks and along the wild roses. Her cloak faded away and she let go of her hound form to become a naked woman again. Imaginary fear, the terror of a prey, flooded through her mind and she moaned at the anticipation of being caught.
Despite being faster than the caravan, neither wanted a drawn-out teasing before fucking. They needed it immediately, to dominate and to submit.
She was barely a hundred meters from the road when he caught her.
He hit her from the side, throwing her into a red-petaled rose bush. Her side stung from the impact. Snarling, he dove in after her, pushing past the thorns.
Merrie crawled away from him, her body burning with excitement. It dribbled from her sex, adding scents of lust and fear to the perfume of the flowers.
With a surge of speed, he lunged. She tried to bat him away, but he knocked her arms aside and chomped down on her throat. Teeth punched into flesh and she let out a cry of passion as her body spasmed with the first of many orgasms. (You're my bitch!)
Merrie's vision blurred as blood trickled down from her neck. She gasped and lifted her hips, spreading her legs as his cock lined up with her sex.
He drove in hard, punching his thick cock into her sex and slamming it to his balls with a single stroke. She wasn't quite slick and the friction of his penetration sent sharp pains coursing through her veins. And then he drove into her, pumping hard and fast. It didn't matter if she was bleeding or being bruised, her collar and her shape-changing would heal the minor injuries.
Whining, Merrie clamped her legs against his flanks and gave him complete access to her sex. She couldn't hook her non-existent feet together anymore, but having her shins tight against his body reminded her of that long-lost position.
His knot slammed into her sex, crushing her labia with rapid-fire strokes. He grunted as he pounded her through the rose bush. Every stroke slammed his cock against her cervix and his knot against her opening. As he withdrew, her bare back was dragged through the thorns. Lines of scratches marked her back and she lost herself in the helplessness, though pretend, of being violently fucked by her lover.
She could feel her belly swelling with his cock. The girth filled her to the brim. Every impact shuddered through her body and she sank into it, meeting his strokes with thrusts of her own hips. The wet slurp of his thrusts filled the air. The dribble of their combined juices dribbled down her ass crack and along the scratches from the thorns. The little pains added to her excitement as she clamped down on his cock as she came again.
Tamin growled and bit down harder, his powerful jaw centimeters from ending her life. Magic poured through his veins as he slammed into her, each thrust forcing more of his knot into her sex. It ripped her open and she tightened her muscles to force him to pound harder.
Her bones creaked from the impact of his magically-fueled strength. His knot, huge and swollen, repeatedly slammed against her, dominating her sex as his jaws dominated her breath.
She cried out and clutched him. (Harder, harder!)
With a howl, he drew back and slammed into her. His knot slid into her entrance, stretching it painfully open, before he pulled back and struck again and again. Each thrust punched into her body with a blast of pain and ecstasy.
The agony of his teeth around her neck became a piercing pain as he bit down harder and punched his cock into her. His knot ripped her open before passing through the tightest ring of her body. With a slurp, it sucked into her body and locked into place. His thrusts continued, but his shaft barely moved in her sex and she was fucked around him, becoming a sleeve for his cock.
He howled again as he came. His cock swelled and exploded inside her, flooding cum into her tightly-stretched pussy. It jetted hard against the entrance to her womb. He came again and again and soon she could no longer feel the individual jets of passion but the growing sensation of being filled.
He released her throat.
With a moan, Merrie slumped to the ground, held up by the cock buried in her sex. Her body was slick with sweat and petals clung to her skin. Looking up, she could see crimson blood dripping from his teeth and felt it oozing along the bite marks on both sides of her neck.
The collar's regeneration flared to life and she reached up for him. (Be with me, just for a little while?)
Love radiated from him as he sank down to his knees and then along her body. His icy form draped over her, protective and sheltering as much as it was dominating.
(I'll hump your face later.)
Merrie wrapped her arms around his neck. (Good. I've been a bad girl.) The last thought was sent as a master and it rippled through her collar and she came again. Her pussy clamped down on her full pussy and he responded with a playful nip on her shoulder.
(Bitch.)
She smiled. (You're my bitch.)
(Until the day I die.)
They held each other as the caravan passed. The muted sounds of wheels and horses was a counterpoint to the pressure in her sex and the closeness of her lover. She dozed as she listened to it.
She loved the feeling when his knot grew soft enough for it to slip out. It was a gentle release instead of the violent penetration. When they were relaxed, it just shrank against her entrance, pulled back by his softening cock. The pressure remained inside her body, like being fisted, but it was a slow, sensual release when the knot finally slipped out with a flood of cum.
(Alpha, have you ever thought about being bred?)
Merrie opened her eyes and stared up at the sun-dappled leaves above her. (Not really. Customers like to pretend they're knocking me up. But, I've never wanted children.)
(Puppies.)
She giggled and nipped his leg. She glanced over to the rose and realized that the color had been leached out of the petals. They were red when he first fucked her, but now they were white and the edges of the leaves were crinkling. The smile faded from her lips. (Shadows corrupt.)
He followed her gaze. (Yes.)
(Rimmy and Kine never had children, despite being free with sex. I think I'm the same way, touched by darkness.)
Tamin lifted his head and bared his white teeth. (Your blood runs crimson.)
(But for how long?) She reached up and kissed his muzzle. (And it doesn't matter anymore. I will love you for as long as I can. You will love me—)
(Until the day I die.)
(But I will never forget. Even when my blood becomes as black as yours, you will always be my pack, my lover, and my friend.)
(And your bitch.)
She giggled. (And you will always,) she thought with a nip, (be my little fuck bitch.)
He licked her and she giggled again, playfully trying to fend him off as he lapped at her face, breasts, and sides. The playfulness faded as he reached her sex and he began to gently clean her out, pushing her into another orgasm before he finished.
Merrie sighed. (I wish we were just there.)
(Seven more days.)
(What happens then? Will they turn me away? Will they try to kill me? I tried to kill them.) She rolled over on her knees, shaking her ass to tease Tamin, and then up on all fours. (I cropped Haviston,) she thought guilty.
(They all love you and they know about the compulsion. The most that will happen is that Sable and Dixie will mount you like a bitch until you beg for mercy.)
Merrie grinned. (They're going to do that anyways.)
(Yeah, but then I'm going to make Dixie my bitch.)
She started to laugh, or the best she could as a dog. (I want to watch that.)
The drumming of horse hooves caught her attention. The caravan had passed more than twenty minutes ago and she wasn't expecting to hear anyone else on the road. Curious, she reached out to identify the rider.
It was Fang and he was desperately trying to catch up to the caravan.
Stunned, Merrie pulled away from Tamin and reached out. (Fang!)
His mind burst with panic and then fear. She flinched as she heard him fall off the horse.
Shifting into hound form, she raced back to the road. She halted the horse with a thought before she made it a few meters, but it took a few moments for her to reach the bright, sun-lit road.
Fang was scrambling to his feet, rubbing his ass. “Why do people ever ride horses?”
(What are you doing here?)
He gasped as he spun around. His eyes slipped past her and she realized she had put up her shade spell reflexively.
She drew his attention with Presence as she crawled up. Reaching his feet, she transformed back into a human and sat up. (Why are you here?)
Fang looked sick for a moment, then sat down heavily on the ground in front of her. “I-I'm sorry, Bitch, but I had to come. I heard that you left and,” he flushed as he cleared his throat, “where you are going.”
(Where I'm going… to the Mill?)
He looked away and nodded. “I'm sorry, but I… I…” He let out a shuddering sigh and she saw tears glistening his eyes. “I need to see her. One last time.”
Merrie sniffed and rested her arm on his thigh. (I didn't mean for her to die. I honestly—)
He waved his hand and then pulled her into a hug, crushing her against his sweaty chest. “I know.” He sniffed loudly. “I shouldn't have kicked you out, it was just,” he inhaled and sobbed, “I kept hoping she was alive. I didn't move, I didn't quit my job, I didn't change anything in hopes that she would come staggering back. And then, in a rush, I found that she had been taken from me.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, leaning her head to the side so he could bury his face into her shoulder.
“I loved Sama so much. We were inseparable most of our lives. And then… and then, she was just gone. And I lost everything.” He sobbed into her shoulder. “I can't stop thinking about her. I need, I need something. I don't know what, but I need to do something to help this ache in my chest.”
Closing her eyes, Merrie held him tight. (Closure.)
“Yeah, that's what Kirin called it.”
(Kirin?)
He couldn't stop staring at that huge cock. It was bigger than his arm and he couldn't imagine how anyone could handle that anything that thick. It would tear—
“Fang? My eyes are up here.” Kirin chuckled. "Or at least look at my tits?"
Cheeks burning brightly, he tore his eyes away. "I'm sorry, that's really, really distracting. I mean, do you stick—"
Kirin sipped from her glass. She was wearing a dark blue corset and there was not hint that she had six symbols engraved into her chest. Her cock rested against her thighs, a thick python of an inhuman manhood. "Focus."
He gulped and nodded.
"Why do you want to find her?"
"B-Because she… she knew what happened to my sister. And she's going to back there."
"What are you going to do? Hit Bitch? Blame her?"
“No! I would never…” Fang shook his head violently to emphasize the point. "It wasn't her fault, I know that. That is why I helped with the fight. Your people saw me there, I wasn't trying to hurt her."
"Then what, Fang?"
"Him. That man, the thriban."
“If you use that,” she gestured to Fang's sword, "he will kill you."
“I know, I saw what he did to the guards and the paladins.” He twisted his fingers together. "But, what I saw in Bitch's memories, I think… I don't think he would hurt me if I just punched him."
Kirin choked on her wine. It splattered on her breasts and thighs. "You're going to punch a fallen paladin!? Not try to kill him, but just punch him!"
He blushed. It sounded really stupid when he said it out loud. But, it felt right when he came up with it during an all-guard briefing with the paladins of Lemetri after the attack. "He won't kill me, but he'll understand. It's… it's…"
"Closure."
Fang gulped and clutched her. “I'm not going to die, am I?”
Merrie thought about the compassionate thriban who kidnapped and raped her. He also loved her with all his heart, just like all the other girls. He was tender and firm. There was a heart in Bass' chest that wasn't snuffed out by his fall from grace. She turned so they were looking eye to eye; she could see her own body reflected in his gaze and she was startled by the only color left in her body, her bright blue eyes. She kissed him. (Just tell him what you're going to do.)
He chuckled and gasped. “Just tell him I'm going to punch him?”
(I would, otherwise he might gut you. And… he'll understand. Of all the people in the world, he'll understand.)
“A-And it's okay if I come with you?”
She kissed him again, soft and lingering. (Yes. Of course.)
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his body.
“You know,” he whispered, “you smell really nice.”