Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Feral Camp
Devil's Forest
In the depths of the devil's forest, in the small clearing stood a large but low, beetle-browed cabin. Its ancient and ramshackle walls stood in an almost unrecognizable way; it was a dirty, six-foot, artificial stern cabin.
With a harsh kick to her right side, Elizabeth was startled awake from a restless sleep. She attempted to touch her hands over to assess the pain that was pouring its way up her stomach and was shortly reminded of the coarse rope constraining around her wrists. She struggled to pull against it, evaluating the knot, and was reminded of the severe anguish it left in its wake. Unexpectedly, an enormous hand was clutching her upper arm and grabbing her to her feet clumsily.
"You're coming with me, little wolf. We need our evening's entertainment." A frightening voice coming from the massive figure of what she could only speculate was a man hauling her out of the cells called out. These phrases imbued her with an apprehension that she had never felt before. It clung to her throat and dried her tongue. Elizabeth was frightened for the first time in her life. The feral man yanked her into the cold air, where he was glistened by the glimmer of the full moon.
The menacing feral stood about a foot and a half taller than her. The gray skin of his horrible face, neck, chest, and upper arms was covered in thick black hair. The mane on top of his head came to the nape of his neck in a greasy and sticky gathering pierced with knots. His ample shoulders, protected by a leather-skinned tunic slathered in blood, sweat, and grime, led down to an enormously muscled stomach, which stretched over the dirty, bloody tunic. Had he been tidy and groomed, he may have been a reasonable-looking man. He crouched into her and caressed his nose up her scarlet cheek and down her delicate neck, clenching her in place with hands larger than her head. Attempting to grab away was unnecessary, so she held an enthusiastic, impassive posture.
"You're in for a pleasure tonight, little Elizabeth." He menacingly cackled as he rose, foully kneading his groin. Despite her decisive behavior, she paled. "Oh, little wolf, don't you dare fear. You'll get more than just me tonight, and I won't even be the nastiest of it. At least when I have my way with you, I'll get you to scream a bit!" With this, he snatched her up and hurled her over his shoulder. Elizabeth's tied hands dropped lamely down his back, and her chest jerked uncomfortably against his shoulder blade. Before she had time to evaluate her predicament, he hit her backside with a harsh slap. She shrieked in surprise at this luscious deed. "Blimey, little wolf! Already making you cry out. My men are going to love that."
He took his tremendous lumbering strides toward the bright bonfire in the distance. With every step, her body swiveled, making it impossible for her to breathe. Her ears let in the raucous voices of the men mixed with the shrieks of women. Was her voice to be added to the congregation of ferals? The glow of the bonfire of the first camp they neared began to light up her face.
Her sluggish curls matted with the dirt and blood of the cells shone a murky, dreadful orange glow. While her eyes adapted to the glimmer of the flame, the faces of different men became noticeable. Each face was equally dreadful and horrifying. They were feral faces that had observed months of indescribable chaos and difficulty. Yet they were all chuckling. Some smirked and idolized her form as she was transmitted, while others already had their hands in their breeches, readying for what was certain to be her doom. The feral man taking her stopped and quickly plunged her. Without notifying, she fell and hit the bottom badly without the help of her hands to conserve her drop. A low chuckle thundered through the throng of feral men who had been procrastinating for her.
Elizabeth fastened herself up on her wrists and strived to push herself into a kneeling position. "You can just stay like that little wolf if that's how you want to commence the night." An ugly face cried out from the crowd. More laughter emerged. She glared and stood unhurriedly, raising her shoulders and altering her head so that it sat high in the air. She would not give them the pleasure of heeding her pleas for compassion or showing nervousness. She stood strong and waived, her eyes feigning not to evaluate the unexpected peril that she was in. The group closed in tighter as the feral man who brought her began to speak.
"Gentlemen, today we have a wonderful doll off the Whiteland of dear old Alpha Jefferson, the Alpha that cannot stand on its own! Give us a spin, my little wolf." As he said these words, he yanked her bound hands over her head, chafing her wrists even further and spinning her in a circle. Some men started to shout and clap; others just blackened their regard. The man holding her halted her unexpectedly and grabbed her flush against his body, her backside to his front. He clenched her hands above her head with one of his and deliberately meandered his other hand down the length of her body—over her breasts, curving down her waist, out over her hips—and ended with a rigorous grasp on her bottom. He did this all while shifting his hips and suggestively rubbing against her.
"My friends, this little wolf is ready for us, and she feels so good." He shrieked through his teeth.
At this, he furrowed her out from against his body, letting her hand go and propelling her into the crowd of feral men. All at once, hands were grabbing her everywhere. Elizabeth’s mind was in turmoil, struggling to adapt to the experience she was going through. A massive man grabbed the neck of her petticoat and snatched it roughly from her body. She attended the deafening tear and instantly strived to cover her now unmistakable corselette, but to no avail. Her breasts heaved indecently as she attempted to catch her breath as the many hands proceeded to pull at her torn garment. She braced herself against the tugs at her limbs and clothing, attempting to keep her petticoat around her ankles where it should keep up.
The feral man who carried her into this predicament roared across the crowd. "Alright men, let me have a go at this little one." The tugging halted, and she slumped to the floor, unexpectedly tired from the attack on her body. He crept towards her, deliberately swirling his hips, his fingers slowly loosening his belt and the top button of his breeches. Once he reached her, he grabbed her into a kneeling stance and leaned down so they were face-to-face.
"Little wolf, listen to me, milady; you will live longer if you cooperate. Be a charming girl, and make me happy." He rose to a standing posture and started to let his breeches plunge when there was a sudden—and welcomed—interlude.
"David, you fool! You wouldn't be accomplishing anything you should not be accomplishing now, would you?" The voice was intense and steady. It was spoken with a composure that emitted authority. The crowd gasped.
Elizabeth could not yet see the face of this man because he was standing with his back to the fire. He materialized in shadow. The man's face went stark as he strived to hold his breeches up and do his belt. "My apology, sire. Just having a bit of entertainment, some of the men and I, we, un, we desired to relieve ourselves."
"With whom might I ask David?" The voice boomed again.
"Whiteland lad, we took from the mansion. Nobody of importance, sire."
"Well, David, while I do comprehend the desires of man," the crowd laughed," I must remind you that I spent a fine silver to employ plenty of whore for my men, you included."
"I know, sire, we just wanted a bit of fragile meat, so-to-speak. Like I said, just a Whiteland lad, my sire. Entirely a glamour too. I believe that my men seized her up along the mansion of the Whiteland village we raided."
"A daughter of Alpha Jefferson, I believe, David?"
"Yes, sire."
"Stupid move, you fool! Very stupid." At this, the mystery man bent his head to the side to get a look at the young she-wolf on the dirt. Her flaming blond hair was whisked around in a delirious mess, curling around her neck and falling to her shoulders. Her dress, roughly torn, hung limply from her shoulders, which he glimpsed being pushed back in a courageous chance. The delicate pink lace of her corset was laced with a pink ribbon up her delicate, small waist to her breast and lined her full bosom, emphasizing every rough breath she took.
The little ribbon lacing in the pretense of the corset was undone, and the opening led numerous hairbreadths down her chest, but the impacts of the corset had not been lost. Her breasts thrust upwards and together formed a delicious but appealing cleavage. He had never glimpsed this kind of undergarment on a woman before, watching as it belonged to only the rich, and he usually wasted his time with women who were less fortunate and more susceptible. He searched back up to her face and was only able to take in the fierce blue eyes he met there. They glistened with arrogance and gleamed against the flame of the fire, and her eyes were full of anger, yet her wolf wasn't in there. It was suppressed.
"I see. Did any of you think to notice anything before you destroyed this shewolf? Anything at all?" The man asked with his hands out in front of him. He swiveled around to get a look at the crew. "Hmm? Anything? No. Okay." He strolled towards Elizabeth and held his hand out. She took it cautiously, and he helped her to her feet.
"A corselette. She is wearing a soft, rich corselette. Do any of the ordinary peasant women you ravaged around wear one of these? Not to mention her eyes; have you all noticed her eyes? She doesn't have a wolf with her, and by all means, if you all ravaged her, you all will be cursed for eternity. Her wolf was suppressed for a reason. Have you not noticed it all? Especially you, David?" The crowd of men stared dumbly back at him. He continued.
"And the material of her dress, the pink trimmings, the lace alone. She certainly is some sort of nobility, and for the fact that all of you knew about her being the daughter of an Alpha."
Elizabeth looked at the group with hard eyes and denounced them for their attempt to dishonor her. The man turned from the group and looked at her once, pausing at her eyes. It was the second time they met. She knew him, and his eyes offered comfort. The man held her gaze while he spoke his next words slowly: "A noblewoman is always taken to my chambers."