Part 1: Potpourri Bath
'Oh why does she have to be left behind?'
As a gifted healer with a keen mind, creative spirit and sharp eyes that seemingly miss nothing, she pleads with Sirius to take her with him on the battlefield.
Cynthia still has a desire to help in the fight against the werewolf packs in whatever way she can, but alas her husband refuses to honour her wishes. Instead, he opts to hide her in a tiny cottage in the English countryside.
Cynthia has been lying in wait for months waiting to hear word on the status of the war, when he finds her.
It is an unusually hot mid-July afternoon; an almost subtropical heat wave has been coursing through the village for the past week or so making it nearly impossible for Cynthia to do any strenuous gardening or housekeeping chores.
With perspiration surfacing on her forehead, her rose-tinted cheeks, the bridge of her well-defined nose and a stream of sweat now running down her back, she makes the easy decision to run a bath.
Unlike so many other women she knew, Cynthia is lucky enough to have access to an enamel claw foot tub. It is one of the few things that she has brought with her when she made the move from her lavish estate to the shabby cottage. Now her permanent residence, the cottage is also meant to be a safe house for vigilantes who were resisting the werewolf invasion.
Unfortunately, for a very bored and lonely Cynthia, nobody ever comes by.
Cynthia strips off her silk dressing gown and bends over to pick up a silver pail of fresh goat's milk. Not thinking twice about wasting such an expensive commodity, she dumps it unceremoniously into the bathtub, along with some fresh spring water.
She adds a half a cup of Epsom salt, a spoonful of honey, a dab of rosehip oil and a basketful of potpourri. She puts together the potpourri mixture herself, making sure to add orange peels, lavender flowers, juniper wood shavings, lemon balm leaves and jasmine buds.
Feeling satisfied with how she's drawn her bath, she eases herself in, breathing out a sigh of relief as the knotty feeling in her chest and belly loosen. Her body is now fully emerged in the milky water, save for her voluptuous breasts that peak just above the surface.
For a few moments, she allows her thoughts to shamelessly roam to impure scenarios. Fast thrusts, panting, sweating, grinding -- Cynthia closes her eyes to picture her handsome, aristocratic husband claiming her body over and over again as she screams for release.
Wishful thinking.
Almost two years into their arranged marriage and they have yet to consummate the union. For a time, she thinks that the problem lies with her. That she is not beautiful enough, not feminine enough, not clever enough for him to fancy her.
However, the day she catches him feverishly plowing into another man like a pig in heat, she understands instantly. Her beautiful, kind husband is a common pillow-biter.
That never stops her from dreaming though.
Gingerly, she lets her hand roam over her breast and down her midsection. Gently, she teases her secret nub adding pressure every so often, causing a light moan to escape her lips.
Lost in her own fantasies, she begins to rub against her maidenhead furiously. Her moans become louder and louder. For once, she is glad that she lives alone.
Feeling frustrated at the lack of friction, she rubs at herself harder. On the brink of a powerful release, she inserts two fingers into herself, rougher than strictly necessary. Because she does it too fast, too hard, not thinking to at least clip her fingernails before engaging in an act of self-pleasure, she hurts herself.
Cursing like an escaped convict, Cynthia withdraws her fingers and groans in defeat throwing her head back, not in ecstasy but in agony. She won't be climaxing today.
Disappointed, she climbs out of the tub and wraps a fresh dressing robe around her naked torso.
That is when he chooses to make himself known.
It happens uncharacteristically fast. A rough hand grabs her raven locks from behind and slams her forehead against the side of the tub.
Cynthia cries out before her assailant does it again. Her arms flay about her, but it does little good. The intruder grabs her crudely around the throat.
"You should have closed your windows," a raspy voice hisses into her ear as warm blood drips down the side of her face. "I could hear you panting for cock a mile away."
With that, he slams her head into the tub one more time before the world goes black.
--
Part 2: Taken
Groggily, her eyes flutter open slowly taking in the warm sunlight.
"Up, up, get up girl," strong hands yank her to her feet, sharp nails digging into her flesh. "Mama wants to do an examination before I fuck you."
Cynthia has been lying on her side but now she finds herself standing upright, dizzy from the earlier beating. The man behind her reeks of sweat and stale whisky.
His voice is coarse from disuse. In some ways she is grateful that he is supporting her weight. If he didn't, Cynthia would surely tumble to the ground. Her legs feel like jelly.
An old woman with thinning hair, a curved spine and a mouth with no teeth limps toward her. Cynthia takes in her surroundings as the haggard woman approaches. Dozens of men in tattered clothing begin to encircle the three. Looking around, Cynthia notices that most of them have untidy hair, dirty hands and scars all over their faces.
She freezes in fear. Werewolves.
The woman yanks Cynthia's robe open and the men holler their approval at being able to see her stark-naked body on full display. She wiggles against the assailant holding her upright, like a small child throwing a tantrum.
"Stop doing that girlie," he grunts. "Otherwise I'll have to take a bite before I fuck you."
Cynthia stops squirming immediately. A werewolf bite would infect her with his disease, a deadly curse in their world.
Werewolves are monsters who have an uncontrollable thirst for human flesh. They experience painful transformations during every full moon and are fully ostracized from all aspects of normal human society.
The woman runs her hand over Cynthia's creamy nipples, pinching and prodding to test their firmness. She smiles evilly to herself.
Against her will, Cynthia's nipples become heavy and erect with the stimulation.
"Adequate for nursing as is," the hag murmurs. "They'll get larger when you've impregnated her though."
The crowd around them grows denser as it becomes obvious that their alpha is putting on a show. Cynthia shudders when several of the men begin to pull out their erect cocks and begin stroking them diligently, hungry eyes focusing on her pink pussy and rosy nipples that are now stiff in response to the prodding.
