A Party Of Thrice

The winter drove over Mellowhale like a great ice dragon's breath. The killing front left some men dead in the streets, freezing them to the earth in dark corners of alleyways behind buildings. 'A cleansing freeze', some elders would mumble from the comforting warmth of their fireplace. The street's live trash was cast into a merciless freezing slumber, then put to death's bed under a six foot blanket of snow. Dirty Mellowhale had become a clean winter wonderland for short span of time.

Yet in warmer dens, others like Horace Hoofenite enjoyed the uncommon season. This kind of winter gave meaning to a sunken floor bed filled with warm dark bear furs and pillows; an inn room with burning coals in the fireplace; and a thick woman who had passed out aside of him, trying to keep up with the mead he had consumed the night before.

'Hoof,' as all of his friends called him, was a barbarian horseman of Haught. He was a man of large stature, size and profession. Hoof was well known in his broad circle of friends as a hard working beast of burden. So it was nothing for him to take the slumbering woman with one of his mammoth hands, and pull her closer to his immediate morning needs.

She protested a bit. He ignored her rebellious hands and words, and pulled the chubby woman under him with one rough tug into the pool of covers sunken into the floor boards. It took but a moment to mount her struggling body. Underneath him, she fought to keep her legs together. Her endeavoring aroused him further.

Hoof's solid meat prodded against the soft giving flesh of her belly, as his knee worked between her meaty thighs. He saw her angry brown eyes flash up at him. Her auburn hair a flat tangled mess on the deeply stacked pillows beneath her. His hands went to her full breasts and coaxed her cooperation with gentle pinches of her perked nipples and hard kisses on her neck. She halfheartedly cursed something he didn't understand in her growling native tongue, but he felt her legs relax and open to his firm insistence, giving him shameless entrance to the wetted part between her thighs.

Horace took advantage of her renewed willingness, lowering his hips until his sex was upon the warm entrance to her feminine opening. With a grunt he worked his sex up into her furry hole. She grimaced at his size, but took his girth in without much complaint or resistance. He felt her hands explore the horse-like musculature of his torso, as he began to stroke her with unbridled heat. His cock slid out of her slit, doused with her warm juices, and then pistoned back into her slick embrace. His large hands slid down to her large doughy hips as his humping became more urgent and feral. She moaned with each push, arching her back and meeting his bucks with taught presses of her thick body. He humped her mercilessly as he sought relief somewhere deep inside of her womanly crevice. She began to insistently complain again in her own foreign language, but Horace shook his head at her. There was nothing to protest, the enormous horseman had already decided he was going to cum into this young heifer.

She tried to resist, but Horace placed one hand on her shoulder and clasped it tightly, taking some of her hair with it, and holding her down forcefully. With several heavy plunges into the depths of her snatch, he began to release himself. Each drive into her cushioned softness he pumped ample amounts of his maleness into her heavyset body. Begrudgingly, her dark eyes rolled backwards and closed as she gave in to her own climax, driven by the engine of muscle that humped her body with fervid strength and patience. Her sex came alive, flooding him with renewed liquid warmth. Their sweat slick bodies slid against each other as she moaned and bucked gently. Horace felt her arms embrace him tightly again, her nails gripping into the skin under his sinuous back. He throttled into her several more times before completely finishing himself inside of her. Once done, Hoof crashed upon her with heavy pants. He kissed and licked the soft skin of her neck in appreciation.

She said something more generous in her own language. Horace smiled and released his grip on her. She didn't flee. In fact she seemed quite content under his weight. He slowly removed his softening member from her still twitching cream-filled center. He didn't know her name, but he kissed her on the lips and she kissed him back. Their tongues licked a dance of mutual appreciation.

This was how to spend a winter, like a bear in his cave.

There was an insistent knock at the door that caused them both to sigh.

"Hoof!" A familiar feminine voice called out from behind the door. It was Tarakina. "Hoof we must get going. The snow has let up, we can make it to the caves!"

Hoof was actually a nickname Horace had picked up from his younger days of stable work. Hoof never regretted an honest day's under those king's horses. Not to mention that the job itself opened the door for his induction into the inland Saddled Guards of Mellowhale.

Now he was a four-year seasoned scout for the Guard. Tarakina was a Burning Plains ranger, who was building a reputation herself by action.

Tarakina was left in Hoof's protection. Until her lover, another ranger and friend by the name of Tyeson, returned from a trip out to sea. Up to this point, she had lived up to her reputation as a handful. Her beauty didn't help either. Tarakina was a striking, ebony-winged woman. It was rumored she was born from the myth of a fiery tribe in the Bloodsand's Desert.

Hoof had seen little to doubt it.

She knocked again insistently. Hoof rolled off of his heavy warm plaything, and rose out of the covers angrily, "I'm coming!"

It took him more than a moment to get to the door, he unsealed several latches and opened it. There stood Tarakina before him, dressed fully in black riding armor and red fox furs. Her large wings rustled angrily over her shoulders as she glared at Hoof with angry blue eyes. "Hoof you're not even dressed," She exclaimed drawing her angular features into a cute frown. Her eyes peeked down at the slick maleness that trunked downwards before him. "It smells like whet wench in here."

Just then, the covers from his sunken bed came to life, and out popped a large fat orange cat with angry brown eyes. Its ears lay flat, and she hissed angrily at the two. The defiant animal then scattered out of the room between Tarakina's legs.

Tarakina looked at Hoof. "Hoof, a Tabythian?" She questioned, "I thought even you knew better sense than to knock up alley cats in Mellowhale."

"I had no idea," Hoof grumbled meekly while falling back into the room to a wash basin. "I was cold. . ."

Tarakina pursued as he knew she would, stepping into the room with him, her magical whip dancing on her hip. "How many kittens have you sired in Mellowhale?"

"Enough!" Hoof bellowed in his deep voice as he finished cleaning himself with a wet rag from the basin. He then began strapping on thick leather pieces to his torso. He tightened their platinum buckles and flexed his muscular arms for their fit. In the mirror Tarakina was taking sharp examination of him, especially the magical brand that was seared into the flesh of his ass. The horseshoe shaped scar was carried proudly by the Horses of Naught, and Hoof was one of few humans to wear it. Hoof pulled up his riding britches over the mark.

"We need to make it to the caves today," Tarakina said, letting her mockery of his sex life go. "There's a teen in the Chasil Caverns that needs my assistance. He is a Cholt. Message has come to us that his dwelling has been struck with a plague, and he is a lone survivor."

"He's probably dead," Hoof said candidly. "This is a cleansing winter."

Tarakina shook her head. "It's said this boy is a healer, that his body resists whatever has plagued his tribe to death."

"How do we know for sure?"

"A messenger made it from the mounts," Tarakina replied.

"Let us speak to the messenger then, to get a firm map of the area," Hoof said. "We'll need it in these conditions."

"We can't," she replied, taking his side and pressing a slender hand on his hulking shoulder. "The winter killed him outside of the gates. The Guard wouldn't let him in for fear of infection."

Hoof turned his head towards her, golden strands of his hair twisted along his neck. "This travel could be for nothing. We could become plagued ourselves, if not frozen to death."

Tarakina picked up the brute's heavy sword and slapped it against his chest. "If I have faith in your brawn. They you'll have better faith in my instincts," Tarakina said. She pulled her hair from her face and kissed his biceps. Less than innocently, she peered up at him with a pleading look.

"We could use the help of another, a tracker" Hoof suggested pretending to ignore.

"I have just the girl in mind," Tarakina answered.

That was enough for Hoof. Tarakina's friends had always been trustworthy. "Then this will be an easy trip," he said with persuaded confidence. "I know the mountains a bit."

"Like the taint of an alley cat?" Tarakina teased.

"Very closely," he replied; pushing her towards the door with a playful shove that caused her wings to flutter

***

The heavy hoof of Alexina's brown mount landed in a deep puddle of frozen mud. She had been pursuaded into leading the duo for a trek into Chasil Caverns during the winter season. The winged rangerette and a barbarian horseman had purchased her tracking services with a sack of heavy gold and a refill of Rehd Tavern's best in her silver flask.

Yet, her ultimate motivation for joining them was far more complicated.

The whiskey did a good job of keeping the rogue woman warm. Her slight frame shivered under the mounds of robes that draped over her shoulders. Even her hands withdrew into the robes, grasping the reins from within. She hated the cold. She respected it, and knew how to survive in it; but hated it with all of her heart.

The snow had slowed in the past day, but tremulous mountain winds blew down upon them. They were closing in on their final destination, but wouldn't reach it before sunset. She urged her mount to slow and allow Tarakina to catch up to her lead. As she drew aside her Alexina tugged on Tarakina's gear for her attention over the howling wind.

"We must camp!" Alexina beckoned. She pointed to a huge freshly fallen tree. It's snow covered trunk was a good eighteen hands in height, and provided the perfect wall of protection against the elements against the rising ground of the mountain. Hoof had noticed their stop, and drew himself around to collaborate their decision to camp.

Alexina had dismounted and wandered to the edge of the path. She leaned over and examined some overturned dirt. She had seen things that bothered her. For one, they were a day behind a band of knolls. Though their abandoned campsites were hidden enough to fool the common eyes of her companions, their dog like tracks were blatantly left in the open to her trained eyes. A mark of the race's sheer stupidity.

It could have been nothing, perhaps a rogue party caught in the elements. Or it could be the knolls knew about the Caverns also, and were looking to make a quick meal of a weakened tribe. There was no way to know. She didn't wish to mention her findings to her companions until she felt it was needed to do so; and it wasn't- yet.

In minutes, she returned to the clearing to find the canvas skins were already thrown, framed and pegged by Hoof. Alexina, who was no pushover when it came to surviving the elements, was impressed by the man's endurance. She watched with due diligence as he brought a hammer down on the pin of the final corner of the tent. She could see the great many pounds of muscles working together so each strike was committed with power and force, driving it into the icy ground. Even in the freezing cold, the majestic sight of him struck a heat in her carnal core.

"He is something." Tarakina admitted cautiously behind her, just audible enough over the wind. "Beware of him though. Horace Hoofenite is no pushover. He is a stallion bred with the mare's blood of Naught."

Alexina turned and eyed Tarakina. "You've sampled my talents for yourself. You above all should know that I could even give a man like that all of the satisfaction he could ask for."

"He needs more than a hot bitch," Tarakina said unwaveringly. "Though I would not have invited you if I didn't think Hoof would fulfill your needs."

Alexina growled, letting her emotions be known to a woman she often hated, respected and sometimes loved. They seemed like sisters at times. "Perhaps he will want more from me."

"I think not," Tarakina retorted. "Hoof is easy, but not stupid. I'll see through your final payment." She then left Alexina, and plunged into the tent behind Hoof. The winged ranger looked like a raven storming into a birdhouse.

Alexina stood outside for a moment longer. She let the freezing cold wind simmer her resonating reactions. She had chosen to come along on this venture in part for the purse that hung on her hip, but largely for the opportunity Tarakina had arranged for her. Timing would be everything.

Alexina would seduce the barbarian. His romp would give her more than he could know. Who knows, if she played her cards right, Hoof could be her life mate. Not a bad choice, no doubt. Never the less, Alexina would be mothering a belly full of oh-so strong pups this spring.

She finally entered the tent and was greeted warmly by the darkness within. Alexina found it difficult to sleep within an enclosure filled with the scent of his masculinity. It caused a flushed heat to spread between her lower belly and her chest. She bit her lip as her hands slid downwards to release a bit of pleasure covertly. At times it was so difficult to keep the beast tame.

***

Tarakina missed Tyeson sorely. Her dearest mate was away for two seasons, on a training expedition aboard a large ship at sea. She knew he was ported elsewhere, riding out the winter and the remainder of his service term to the king. He had left her in the keep of Hoof; who was not the smartest man, but formidable in every other way.

She felt guilty for setting him up this way. Tarakina knew before she had approached Hoof that they would need Alexina to guide them to the exact spot in the Caverns. She also desperately desired finding that boy in the caves before he passed. The third part of Tarakina's deceptive equation was Alexina. She was a true companion for Tarakina. The only female in Mellowhale Tarakina had found good company with.

At times she had been more to her, a lover in her impoverished moments of loneliness. And though they seemed like sisters, Alexina was vastly more complicated than Tarakina. Alexina was bound to her cycles, and the latest moon commanded her to mate in a way Tarakina's love could not fulfill, not completely.

Alexina was a werewolf bitch. Tarakina had seen her transform into the sleek silver monster she really was. In her true form, Alexina was a perfect meld of canine and human. She was upright, curvaceous, and direful in one breath. Alexina's also had a voracious appetite for heavy bouts of sex. Bitten by a pregnant bitch herself, Alexina was a cursed breeder. If she didn't have a belly full of pups every ten seasons, she would lose her ability to change; and perhaps her life.

Mating a wolf was a complicated thing. For one, the man that emptied himself into her feral hole was fated for one of two endings; a destiny by her side as her wolven mate, or death by her ferocious jaws.

To this point, no man had proven himself suitable enough to be her mate. So there was no honor in trying. Only death became of the men that were seduced for her doing- and Alexina was by all means a slut. Tarakina knew because she had often helped seduce the poor men that would server her needs with the tide of the moon.

Men like Horace Hoofenite.

There was a difference though, lately Alexina had admitted to Tarakina that the longing for a true mate was settling down in her soul. Still, Tarakina found that hard to believe given her voracious appetite.

Yet, how could Tarakina judge. She was not deserving of the man who loved her. Tarakina's guilt was immense.

Just a week ago she let Hoof rip off her own panties. In a moment of weakness she found herself bent over his bed, pleading for his discipline for her own transgressions.

Hoof was a barbarian man with a beast's heart, so Tarakina knew he would have no problems doling out the punishment she sought.

His monstrous hands wrapped around her chest from behind, and kneaded her full breasts into her body roughly. Hoof leaned over and prodded her most private of places with his aroused manly stud. She felt belittled under his weight and strength. Tarakina quickly realized she was completely at his mercy.

Yet, she did have some control in her hips, and to his surprise and pleasure, she guided his hardened rod to a less than desirable place to take in a man the size of Hoof. He took advantage of her invitation, pressing the oozing head of his sexual sword on the dark pucker of her ass. His large sex well lubricated with her saliva from the lip service she had given him a moment before.

His bear-like grip almost crushed the breath from her as he drove himself into her inch by stretching inch. The excruciating pain and shame suddenly satisfied the emptiness she had been cursed with. "Are you sure?" he asked?

"Yes," she pleaded! Almost halfway in, she felt him back himself out a bit, then pushed the remainder of his length into her mercilessly. She had never felt fuller! His prod into untouched depths made her let out a long moaning "OOohh!" After several grinding pushes, he rose off her back. His massive hands released her large tits, and repositioned themselves on the sides of her waist under her wings. He was upright now and behind her. Hoof's ungodly girth remained planted into her rump.

It wasn't enough she craved more. "Spank me," she commanded.

Being a horseman, Hoof understood discipline. Tarakina knew he valued her guttural urgency; that she didn't want to be love patted, but scourged. She braced herself, waiting for the slap.

He brought his hand down on her ass heavily. The blow shook her entire body, as if lightning had struck her behind. She let out a scream at the crack of it, and then the blistering heat of his palm caught fire on her round rump.

The strike was like setting a match to oil. As tears rolled down her cheeks, so did the warm dampness between her thighs. It enlivened her nerves and suddenly she could feel every inch of the maleness that remained unkindly planted in her ass.

"Please Hoof," she said in almost a whisper. He needed no urging.

Hoof had his way with Tarakina, like a wild old buck to a virgin doe. He was painstakingly slow at first, and she struggled against it. There was no escaping the huge man's assault, he held her at bay by the hips. The rhythm and motion of his thrusts began to overwhelm the sharp pain of his prods with dull pleasure. Soon Tarakina found herself uselessly clenching with her sphincter to hold his size in, but he slid out of her butt almost completely, before ramming her full again with his veiny timbered length. These thrusts hurt, and Tarakina cried out his name, begged him to slow his relentless pounding.

He ignored her and quickened his pace, their skin slapping against each other and causing her tits to jiggle underneath her folded arms. The motion of his humping struck fire in her, which she sought to release with her slender fingers at the top of her slit. As the orgasm built in her tummy, she greedily plunged her fingers into the wet folds of her sex to tickle her trigger within. His large hairy balls slapped against her more sensitive lower parts with each thrust.