"I Lyeo, Lion of the Bettus, Hispa Vuk, Wolf Gatherer of the children of men, stand before you naked in the light of purity and admit cruelty beyond the measure of the Gods. Fear Me for I bring only bitter tears and terror and in My passing consume the bounty of harvest and womb alike. Your children are My coin, your lands are My larder and all who dare to face Me are doomed."
So repeats the speech that bloodies the ears of ally and foe alike. I have no mercy in My soul, the reaper took all care from Me with My fallen fortune and comrades. I am the last in the line of great wanderers and since the destruction the Khans great city I am but a plague left to feast upon the innocent. Time stopped when the tents of Bettia turned to flames in the eastern sky and the river Omeg ran red with Bernard blood. I have no home, no people and no pity. Feast upon each other humankind and dance only for My pleasure and caravans. Whether horses and hounds for the great Khan, eunuchs for the Drack Sultans, sickle warriors for Saltag Kings or painted harlots for the brothels of Dross, all are fair game for the Wolf to gather and gold to line My funeral mound.
Eight centuries and the world has barely changed, evil but becoming the currency of power instead of the affliction of madness. Yes I am a monster but one that serves a purpose. I am the buffer between the child molester and the innocent child, betwixt the rapist and the virgin's purity. I supply chotgor his quota and kharankhui burkhan leaves the multitude in sweet ignorance of the horrors that might otherwise be. Life is good to Me and I am kind and generous to all beneath the fall of My whip. There is but one Wolf Gatherer and a universe of waiting sheep.
The stables smelt good. Lyeo took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma of horses and leather. All the stalls were empty, war had touched this place too long for any creature to be safe from the pot and He was saddened. Many times He had eaten stews and goulashes that were a mystery to Him but His men knew better than to dare to cook the flesh of a horse, even these centuries later the Khans laws still held sway over the outcast, even mortal flesh was far more acceptable than equine in a last resort. He lay upon the last vestiges of the hay, His great cloak wrapped around Him for warmth and comfort. The gnout He leaned against the wall close to hand, not that it was needed before daybreak but He felt the want of its company.
The woman and girl came quietly into the stable. They both wore traditional Bock dress, moukriyani, fine delicate materials totally unsuitable for the winter temperatures. The woman was probably thirty nine years old, the girl just nineteen and by similarities in hair color and features could be assumed mother and daughter. The girl looked steadily at the straw covered flagstones, but the mother, much braver and haughty, looked steadily at Him as He watched them approach. Looking behind them Wolf could see the shadow of His bodyguard one-eye hovering close, imagining himself out of sight, always ready, always on guard.
"Master of slaves, I have come to ask you a great favor. My daughter is unmarried and has never known a man. She will suffer rape and torture at the hands of the buyers who wait below. Please take her so she may now one night of love."
Lyeo carefully scrutinized the woman as she spoke. Her dark brown eyes shone from below the traditional heavy eyebrows, her nose large but shapely overhanging a well-defined mouth, dark almost purple lips open to show white perfect teeth. The daughter was beautiful, but young. Thin, through careful eating and constant exercise her body had yet to reach the full roundness of the mother and had still the almost boyish stature of such Bock girls. The moukriyani she wore was sheerer than the mothers and had no customary pantaloons below. He could distinguish the slight mound of her sex showing through the fabric, shaved completely as was the custom.
"Lord, please. I do not wish her to be known by any of your followers, but if needs be they have offered."
Lyeos eyebrows met like black clouds before thunder. His voice spat out in annoyance.
"My men should be sleeping or on guard not offering favors to you or your daughter. You forget her value is far greater as a virgin."
He made to rise but suddenly the daughter dropped to her hands and knees, her forehead hard upon the stone floor, her hands gripping the ankles of His boots.
"Mighty Lion, I am of little matter in this world and have no right to expect Your kindness but please forgive my mother for her impertinence. She has too much pride and little understanding of the precious value of Your time."
Wolf growled to Himself. The girl was playing Him and He knew it, but His chest puffed a little as she massaged His ego and He Found her voice somewhat captivating.
"Master of slaves, I know I have no right to ever be considered worthy of such as You and am mortified that my mother acts so disrespectfully. Please punish me for her sins. I would not wish her to suffer at your hands because of her love for me."
The girl had quietly managed to shift forward so her hands now rested upon His knees and He caught the smell of her deep in His nostrils. Glancing up at the mother He saw at once that this was arranged but He already felt a stirring in His body that would not halt till he had her.
"Lord, she is innocent in body but has all the knowledge necessary to be a perfect concubine."
The mothers voice was filled with pride and time seemed to echo backwards to when droit de cuissage was the commonplace custom.
"As you wish."
Wolf pushed back the saddle blanket He had hastily pulled over Himself for warmth and gently gestured the girl upright. The mother moving forward a little eased the flimsy fabric of the moukriyani up over the girls body revealing first her thighs and mound, then her almost perfectly flat stomach and finally two pert breasts centered by small puffed nipples. The girl smiled happily as her almond eyes met His and then ecstatically lowered her body against His reclining form.
The girls skin was so soft to His touch. His hands were hard and dry from days in the open, sheepskin gloves doing little good when temperatures averaged below minus ten. His finger tips were already cracked and bleeding round the nails; a condition He had inherited from generation upon generation of antecedents; another curse of the blood. Now the lotion applied to her body felt like precious oil, His hands absorbing the balm like blotting paper.
Her lips began to press against His lips. Not the open sexual kiss of a practiced lover but with a nervousness that at once was arousing and frustrating. Wolf allowed her timidity to reign, the night ahead would be long and there was no point in rushing this experience. Rather it was a time to be savored like the finest Tokay or the sweetest Lokum. Wolf allowed His hands to caress her back, feeling the strong muscles below the softness, admiring her conditioning. The small of her back curved gently till it wandered to become the valley between her hard buttocks. His fingers slid down that sensuous pathway till the tips found first the tight opening of her anal passage and then the back door to her sex. The opening to her womb was moist with anticipation and He felt the entrance gape a little in wantonness. Her breathe seemed to stop and then with a gasp sped like a fiery saltag mare wanting to reach her goal.
