A Tale of Fur and Flesh Page 3

  His gaze penetrated her so harshly she felt violated. The king was not laughing. His expression was gravely serious.

  “Surely you jest,” she went on. Lally’s skin became cold. An icy sweat broke across her brow. Her pleading gaze shot to councillor Offal, but her father’s man was looking squarely at his feet. The muscles in Lally’s calves twitched to carry her from the council room, from the castle, from the kingdom.

  More emphatically, she repeated, “Surely you jest, father. Is your mind diseased? Know you not who I am? I am your daughter! I am Lally! Do you not remember telling me tales when I was small, and singing to me as I slept? I am still that same golden-haired child.”

  The old man’s gaze was fixed on her tangled locks, the hair so like her mother’s. When he reached out to touch it, Lally jerked her head away. His eyes shone with a kindly lunacy. His scent was heavy as death and decay. “I made a promise to your mother. Never would I take a bride less beautiful than she. There is only you, Lally. My Lally with locks of gold, golden hair like her mother’s. We will be wed in the morning, my daughter.”

  “No!” she cried, rising to her feet. Her chair tumbled behind her. What else could she say? How to reason with such lunacy? This was not the father she knew. This person was mad. Snake had been right. There was danger in the castle. There was danger at home.

  The demented king slid his skeletal fingers through her golden hair. Grabbing hold of it, he pulled her down. When her knees met the cold, hard ground, he took her hair in a fist and pulled it. Lally released a tortured scream. “Why do you hurt me, father? I love you and you do me harm…”

  “We shall be married in the morning,” he repeated, his voice calm and firm.

  In pain and confusion, she could do nought but weep. For how could she bring herself to strike out against her own father? Particularly after waiting ten anxious years to see him again.

  “Please, your highness.” Offal’s voice was pleading and small as he interjected from across the room. “Release your daughter. Can you not see the pain you cause her?”

  Father’s grasp loosened, but he did not let go. With her eyes to the ground, Lally whimpered like a child. She could not bring her mind to function through the haze of disillusion.

  “Let us discuss this business of marriage,” Offal continued. “It is forbidden for a father to wed his daughter. No good can come from such a crime, and the kingdom will bear the brunt of your personal ruin.”

  “The king will not be dissuaded,” father interrupted, releasing Lally from his grasp. “The wedding will take place on the morrow, Offal. Take Lally to her mother’s chambers and guard her through the night. She shall marry me in the morning, or you shall hang, councillor.”

  Lally’s attempt to scramble to her feet failed. Her muscles were limp with bewilderment. Offal’s fresh cologne salved her pulsing temples as he lifted her by the underarms and carried her from the room. With black boots dragging along the corridor, she seemed to float above her body. Was she living or dead? Married or maid? This evening had surely been a dream. She would wake to find the world as it had been.

  Chapter Four

  Awakening with the sun in the bed of her mother’s chamber, Lally realized with great horror the preceding evening had not been dreamed. Mother’s copper gown was twisted tight as a siren’s tail around her restless legs. Councillor Offal dozed in a chair blocking the door. Her stomach turned as she recalled father’s intentions. How could a once-good man imagine such an unspeakable coupling? Was he mad? Doubtless. There was nothing left but to flee.

  The heavy silks of her mother’s gown rustled like autumn leaves, stirring Offal from rest. Shaking his dreams from his head, the king’s councillor bolted upright. He pushed his solid chair against the only door to freedom. Lally had little choice.

  “I shall give you anything you like if only you allow my escape,” she offered, unfastening the ties that bound her into the copper dress. Mother’s gown fell at her feet, revealing the bustier of black snakeskin, tattered skirts and tall black boots underneath. “Pray, let me flee this accursed castle. It will be my death to stay here, for I should rather kill myself than give my hand to the man who gave me life.”

  “You waste your breath arguing with me, your highness,” Offal replied slowly and deliberately. Lally’s stomach clenched as the lean councillor approached her, his gait meandering. “I agree with you. This marriage would be a travesty. I will gladly be your saviour, but I ask nothing in return, dear child. I have known you from infancy. It is my duty to serve and protect you. To that end, I bring you this…”

  In his hand rested a walnut.

  “It is yours,” he went on. “I swept it from the council table when you became incapacitated.”

  Relief wafted across Lally’s chest like a cool breeze. The nut was enchanted. It would open up when the time came she needed help. The time was nigh. Danger slept in the adjacent chamber. Mother’s care would save her from a fate worse than death.

  “Oh, thank you a thousand times over, councillor Offal!” she exclaimed, kissing her liberator’s gaunt cheek and snatching the walnut from his hand. “Now, open up, little nut!”

  The walnut rested, unmoving, against Lally’s palm.

  “Perhaps you must crack it,” Offal suggested.

  Taking the knife from her waistband, Lally placed the walnut on the ground and stabbed at it many times over. With each stab, it rolled along the floor.

  “The knife is not working,” Offal pronounced with urgency.

  “Yes, I can see that!” Lally replied with frustration in her voice. “Gott im Himmel, is that father’s footstep approaching?”

  It was.

  “Place the nut under the foot of the bed,” Offal commanded. “The weight of the solid wood will crack it.”

  But even this attempt was unsuccessful. Climbing upon the bed, Lally jumped with all her strength. The walnut survived. Again and again she threw her weight upon the bedstead, but to no avail. There was a rap at the door. Father had come to take her to the altar, the feast, the marriage bed…

  “I come for my now daughter, my soon wife,” her demented father called out.

  Lally collapsed into the feather mattress. The disappointment and dread in her heart culminated in a violent scream. Tears burned her eyes, her throat. What could she do?

  “You must go now, out the window!” Offal whispered, bolting the door.

  “Why flee?” Lally asked, resigning herself to her sickening fate. “Father will only have his huntsmen track me down and return me to his marriage bed. And you will be killed for your part in this deception. I shall go quietly to the sacrificial altar…”

  “You shall go to the woods. You shall flee this kingdom, princess! I would die gladly, that you should be safe,” Offal commanded, retrieving the walnut. His gaze was then caught by three golden possessions of the late queen’s, resting on the dressing table. In Lally’s trembling hand, he placed a golden needle, golden thread and a golden ring.

  “I thank you from the depths of my soul, councillor. You are the bravest of men,” Lally esteemed, kissing the councillor’s thin lips.

  “Safe journey,” he wished the princess as she fled.

  * * * *

  The whole day and night, Lally travelled through forest and stream. She was so desperate to flee the kingdom and the mad ruler she once loved, she took neither food nor respite. From that day forth, she decided, she would adopt the name of Allerleirauh. She would not disclose her relation to her lunatic father and betraying mother. Her name would be that bestowed upon her by the departed Snake. Now she must construct her protective mantle of many furs. But how would she know which creatures were to help her?

  When she had run a safe distance from the castle, Lally slaked her thirst in the brook. She set about collecting berries and herbs to satiate her hunger and maintain her good health. As she bent to pluck a particularly ripe raspberry, a small blur flashed before her feet. What was that? There it was again.

&nbs
p; “Snake’s skin? Snake’s skin!” a jumpy little voice called out. “You’re Aller-Aller-Allerleirauh!” A tawny hare hopped tentatively from behind a birch tree.

  “Yes, I am Allerleirauh,” she replied. It was the first time she had said her new name aloud. Al-ler-lie-row. Allerleirauh. A new woman.

  “Oh goody. Oh goody,” he cheered. “That’s great! I know what to do now.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh as the scatter-brained creature transformed into an adorable young man with a trail of fuzzy bunny fur encircling his navel. His tawny hair was floppy; his upwardly sloping sex anything but.

  “I take it you will be helping me with my mantle?” Lally chuckled, leaning upright against the birch tree. She parted her legs a touch. It was the first time she had laughed since leaving the castle. Reaching toward Hare, she grasped his curved cock. It was curiosity more than lust. She’d never seen a man’s rod so furry.

  “Yes, oh yes, oh yes,” exclaimed the young man. She stroked him slowly as he pawed at her tattered skirts. It felt lovely and soft against her palm.

  In no time, the rabbit boy lifted her dress and swiftly penetrated her cavern…or so he seemed to think. The darling creature couldn’t have been more inattentive. It appeared he didn’t realize he was simply stroking his fuzzy rod against her mound. The sensation was wonderful nonetheless. Lally stretched back against the birch as he thrust against her sensitive lower lips. She sighed with pleasure, pressing her body up against his until she could feel her wetness dripping down her thighs. It was only fair the boy should get to feel her inside as well as out. Taking him in hand, she showed his strange cock into her cunt. The hare grasped at her skirts. Lally could count on her fingers and toes the number of thrusts he issued. It was over almost before it had begun, but at least she secured one of the hides she was searching for. The pelt from his furry back came right off in her hands. As she held the soft rabbit fur, the boy became fixated on a point over her shoulder. “Eeep! Must depart,” he cried. Naked, he scurried out of sight.

  “Wait!” Lally hollered after him. “Why do you run, Hare?”

  A twig cracked behind her. There was movement. It sent chills through her body. Suddenly, the evening seemed much darker. “Allow me to clarify, Allerleirauh.” The creature behind her spoke in the deep, raspy brogue of the Western kingdom. Lally spun on her heels, nearly falling over in her snakeskin boots. He was the wolf. One eye blue, one eye brown. His silver mane and sharp incisors shone brightly in the blue light of dusk. With his violent gaze fixed on her, Lally was unsure what to do. His pelt would make a welcome contribution to her mantle, but would he have her for dinner first?

  “That hare were going to be me meal, before ye came along,” the silver creature said, taking heavy strides toward her.

  “You would not think of eating me instead,” Lally responded with a nervous chuckle. Awakening her courage, she rooted her heels into the forest floor. She was going nowhere without his pelt. In any case, Snake said the forest creatures wished to protect her.

  “Nay, lass. I wouldn’a eat a fish with other mongers’ hooks in her.”

  Lally’s blood percolated, warming her neck and her cheeks. She hadn’t anticipated such insolence. He was supposed to help her, and instead he called her a whore! “How dare you address me thus, wretched dog? I am a princess!”

  Wolf issued a throaty cackle. As Hare and Snake had done before him, the wolf stretched until he was more man than animal. All that remained of his prior form were his silver mane and tail, the pale fur along his belly, the blue and brown eyes, and his violent demeanour. The muscles of his human form were slight and lean, but his height rendered him imposing in the extreme. His countenance retained a leathered attractiveness, which a few more years of exposure to the elements were certain to disintegrate.

  “Ye’re nothing but a wee doxy,” Wolf maligned, circling around her.

  Lally opened her mouth to argue, but it was true, wasn’t it? She no longer held any power. By the warmth emanating from the wolf’s body, she knew where he was with respect to her. At her back, her shoulder, her side. She did not turn her head to look at him. In fact, she closed her eyes and took in the musty scent of dark earth. When she opened her eyes, he had returned to his starting place in front of her. If she desired to caress his fur, Lally would have to walk a good ten paces toward him.

  “And now ye tread through excrement and all manner of things with my good friend Snake for boots,” Wolf continued. “How can ye live with yerself after the crime ye’ve committed?”

  “That was an accident,” Lally replied. She had to defend herself, even if she agreed with Wolf. “I meant no harm against Snake. His death is a matter of great regret.”

  “Sure, ye feign to love all God’s creatures, but ye royals only care for yer own rampant luxury. Ye’re nothing but a grassback, wearing Snake for a corset. Look at ye, using me friend’s skin to press together yer wee titties.”

  Lally’s rage erupted. “My titties are not wee! Rather, my breasts are not small. I shall wear your pelt as a loincloth, dirty dog.”

  “Now, why would a dead easy lass need to shield her loins? Better use my skins to hide yer face in shame. Och, what would yer mother say of ye, Allerleirauh?”

  Lally’s skin pricked at the mention of her mother. “How dare you invoke the name of the good queen?”

  “Yer mother was ten times the woman ye’ll ever be. Every life in the village, and every creature of the woods, had value to her. And look at yerself, lass. Made in her image? Nah. Ye go ‘round putting a right fright into everyone in the kingdom. Ye’re mean and ye’re cruel. Ye’ll never be half the leader yer ma was.”

  “You make my blood boil, you filthy dog!” she cried. His insults evoked in her the same feelings Offal’s had, long before she knew he was good at heart. Picking a rock off the ground, she launched it at Wolf. He evaded the stone and it struck the oak tree behind him.

  Allerleirauh braced herself for a stormy reaction, but the creature said nothing. He did nothing. His violent gaze pierced her like an arrow through her heart. Then a threatening smile crept across his face as he revealed sharp canine teeth. She felt naked before this rough beast. No other creature had rendered her so bare, so fragile. Could Wolf smell her anticipatory juices?

  The forest floor trembled under the creature’s forward steps. His voice was hot and rough. It was the sound of friction. “Nah, I’m no dog, lass. Ye know well I’m a wolf. And ye? Ye’re a good-for-nothing hoor. Even yer old da wanted a piece of ye.”

  Lally tasted bile at the mention of her demented father. It wasn’t her fault! How dare he? Her heart pumped with fury as she rushed the wolf-man, not knowing what she might do next. Strike him? Kick him? But no. What was she doing? Plunging her tongue into his hot mouth! Wolf caught her in his lean arms when she leapt at him. Holding her aloft, he returned her thirsty kisses. Even his mouth was strong.

  Breaking from the desperate kiss, he dipped Allerleirauh back. Blood flowed to her brain, making her dizzy as Wolf ravaged the breasts peeking out from under black snakeskin. He bit her tits. He sucked her tender nipples so hard they stung. He could do anything to her. She was his dinner. Wolf ran his rough tongue the length of her chest and up her neck, leaving traces of hot moisture in his wake. Again and again he lapped her skin. What strength in his arms, that he could he support her. The power she perceived in his body made her muscles limp.

  When Wolf raised her to his lips, the collection of blood in her head rushed straight to her cunt. A tremble shot through her core. Grabbing his silver mane, she kissed the beast unrelentingly. “You will help with my mantle, you dirty dog,” she disparaged him. “You harmful beast, you callous brute!” This would be their game.

  “Aye, I’ll help ye, trollymog,” Wolf replied, abruptly releasing his grip on her. When Lally tumbled down to earth, he continued their match of denigration. Grabbing her by the waist, he inverted his princess-cum-whore. “Turn yer belly to the ground, wee strumpet. I cannot bear to
look upon yer bawdy face.”

  “Gladly shall I turn my face from you, vile creature. I would rather press my nose to the worm-infested soil than look upon a filthy dog.” This was a slight exaggeration, for Lally placed the rabbit’s pelt under her cheek to separate it from the sharp twigs and cold mud. Taking in the earthy cologne mingled with the sweet aroma of animal fur, she surrendered fleshy buttocks to the cool night air. Her heart pounded. Allerleirauh ached to be penetrated by the rabid wolf. “Well, beast? Are you a wolf or a mouse?” she provoked him. “Ha! I knew you were not man enough to ravage me.”

  “Ye’ll find I’m well-favoured by Nature, wee stray. I only hesitate because ye reek of rank prossy. But since ye’re begging for a mount, I’ll oblige ye this once. To my own detriment, I expect…”

  The heat of his fur-lined torso impassioned Lally’s behind. How cruel of the man to make her wait for the dirty work! But it was this very malice that caused her lower lips to flow with lustful waters. In one swift motion, Wolf pressed his hands upon her back and thrust his stiff meat into her cunt.

  “Well-favoured my foot!” she cried through the sting of its entry. “Your member is no larger than my little finger! I have seen rats that outsized than you.”

  The slur encouraged Wolf to press Lally’s bare shoulders to the ground. A fallen branch scraped her arms, combining pain with pleasure in a sizzling dance through her body. Forcing himself into her with increased vigour, Wolf responded to the insult. “If yer sullytripe crevice weren’t so loose, perhaps ye might feel when a man’s infiltrating ya. Ye could take a tree trunk in there and not feel a thing.”

  How could he ransack her body and generate insults at the same time? Lally’s mind barely functioned through the tumult. Her brain melted into a puddle of pleasure at the friction of his thrusting.

  “You…” She grasped for an effrontery—anything to make Wolf hold her arms against the forest floor and plough harder into her ravenous cunt. “…you gut-monger!”