Having a bloody good time

Alastor had reveled in the girl's screams, her tears, her pleas for mercy and freedom. Her body, previously untouched, had been ravaged beyond recovery as the giant brute held nothing back. Manea had kept him horny and frustrated for over a week, and now she was receiving the brunt of his lust and violence. The sensations of her body breaking beneath him had been orgasmic and the taste of her blood in his mouth was intoxicating like a rich merlot. But despite how badly he ached and wanted it, Alastor didn't finish. No, he wouldn't waste his seed on this pathetic being, unfit to even be thought of as a wolf. She had been used merely as a means of pleasure, to get himself aroused and ready for Manea. His mate would receive the unbridled affects of his lust and violence, and every potent drop within him would go to her, to quench her heat and relieve his frustrations and create their family. But by that point, this squirming marshmallow would long be dead.

Above her, the dire wolf grunted and snarled, panting hard, pink tongue hanging from an open grin of satisfaction. He noticed after some time that the girl, in all her struggling and screaming, wasn't giving in to Manea's demands, leaving her frustrated and unsatisfied. He grinned wider; good, now Manea could have a taste of her own medicine. Ah, but what would his wife do if their gift wasn't playing along? Would she simply break the little creature? Alastor gave an especially brutal thrust that slammed his hips hard to the pallid girl's, then held himself there while he grinned down at both the ladies, glancing to Manea with a curious look in his obsidian eyes, questioning what she would do about this little bitch that was so flagrantly disobeying her. He was far beyond words at this point, but the expression on his smiling face and gleam in his dark eyes said everything he needed to.


"Alastor"