This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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His Control
Chapter One
Part Two
She agreed with her master, of course, that revenge was to be had. It was not that he controlled her mind in that manner but her heart pulsed for it, driving and pounding like the thrust of his cock into her pussy. As much as it was hard to think about anything else when he was engaged into grinding into her hot sex over and over again, all for his pleasure, she could think of nothing more satisfying than taking revenge on those who had sought to abuse her good position in the elfish community. She was a warrior, an assassin, she was someone in high-standing in the world - and they had thought to use her for such a common goal, a crude goal? All had, of course, come to light after that initial sexual meeting of their souls, how Eric had thought to steal the relic and the priest had escalated it, all unduly, to an extreme level. It was an overreaction to someone like Eric at the best of times but did lead them both to wonder, at least a little, just what was so important about that relic that they wanted to protect it so.
If it was different, that was their quarrel to bear. Yet they would have their revenge on those who had sought to grind them down, use and abuse them, cast them aside from the living, breathing face of the world.
The abbot that Eric sought out was not far away, staying in the guest chambers of the priest, whose less than humble abode was attached to the church. Maybe, in the grand scheme of royalty and nobles in the world, it could have possibly have been considered humble and simple but it may as well have been a palace for how many worlds apart it was set from what Eric was used to. The stained glass had been placed carefully to give the stone building, set with ornate lantern holders, an air of lustful ignorance as to how the poor lived, despite how simply the priest seemed to be dressed. In hindsight, Eric could recognise the quality in the cloth he bore, especially when compared to his own. That comparison, however, would soon no longer be present in such a stark contrast.
The abbot travelled, although not far, overseeing a few monasteries and nunneries, although her sway extended further than the reach of her eyes. The priests were also managed, her feeding of information down through them what channelled the content of the often daily sermons, although it all seemed, at least to Eric, to be a rehash of all that had been said before. Her power, regardless, was absolute and only those higher than her in the standing of the church could really do anything to control her, all looking up to her for her eagle-eye and chilling demeanour.
She, however, was not a woman to be trifled with. Eric did not quite know how he could have forgotten that the abbot, the leader of the monks and nuns in that denomination of the church, was female but religion beyond what he was forced to attend had never much concerned him. His mind had been too simple back then, too easily distracted, and that was all well and good and understandable; he'd been a different man back then. But the woven rug and rich colours drew on a pang of longing in his heart, wanting to curl his toes into it and see just how different it was from a cold, haggard dirt floor.
Soon.
He would have to be patient.
Up the stone stairs, quietly, Asha leading the way. He copied her, walking slowly and lightly, shifting his weight as if he was afraid of floorboards creaking, which was also a very real threat once whey emerged onto the first-floor landing where the guest chambers, apparently, were located. It had been servants that they'd overhead talking about the abbot and when she took to bed and to prayer, though the little information that they'd gleaned had been more than enough. Truly, there was no threat to those in the church in their world, the threat of going to hell more than enough to stay the hand of many that could have otherwise have sought to steal and usurp, and the doors were not even to be found locked as they stole through the abode like mice down by the church pews.
Abbot Magrathe slumbered as if she was an angel, although one could have considered her to be a very dark kind of angel indeed. Even in sleep, she had her hands folded across her chest in prayer, tucked between her breasts, which were a little on the large side, it could be said. That, however, would require her clothes to be removed to truly tell, even as the effect of gravity lightly tugged them to either side of her body, unsupported even in her status. It was probably deemed something too garish and crude to support one's breasts when they were sleeping, although the light definition of her nipples showing through in the flickering lantern-light did draw his eye in the most delectable of fashions.
Reaching for his power, Eric exhaled slowly, trying to find it once more. It was a strange thing that he had played with in the days since everything had changed, hiding out with Asha in a rudimentary shelter in the forest that was, of course, much more homely than his little hut. He couldn't let the priest know, as yet, that he was still alive, not until he could control what had been so graciously gifted to him, what was now his to wield as he chose - or not, as it was.
It slipped through his fingers, clutching and squeezing through a busy mind, and he nipped at his lip, one of his teeth chipped from an accident as a boy. He thought it gave him character but he wouldn't have wanted to be gap-toothed. He wanted to be one of those men that the ladies couldn't keep their hands off, ladies like Asha. And Asha couldn't keep her hands off him, which was a good thing indeed as he had her working his cock day and night, seducing him and pleasing him, letting him build up his stamina more and more as he pounded her.
As if she knew what he was thinking, her hand crept down to the bulge in his only slightly better cut trousers (that had been a little something, at least, that she'd been able to assist with, her skills a little better than his in that regard), squeezing and groping. His bulge fit the shape of her palm perfectly even as the flesh down there hardened, rising to attention, though she whimpered softly, holding her breath, eyes shining in the darkness.
Then, and only then, did it come, the glimmering of power slipping out and teasing around Magrathe, whispering in through her ear, although it could not be seen by a mere human eye. No, that sort of power was something that only a demon could see and Malekor was surely watching from hell, the underworld boiling over beneath their feet, a driving force that fuelled every nuance of evil and debauchery in the world.
Asha eased her hand inside, up against his erection, and he fumbled, the woman on the bed stirring before them. Yet she was too deep in slumber to rise so easily, tossing and turning over on her side, heavy breasts spilling to the side of her evidently chubby form, grey hair fanned out around her head in a false halo.
