Chapter Eight: Serendipitous Satisfaction
Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble.-John Barrymore
The incoming ships had held themselves in orbit, rounding the reddish-gold and green planet, over and over, until all the Chivas had been completed. Tensions cycled high on the ships whose females had completed their marking Hunt first and then impatiently had to wait for their slower sisters to arrive. The atmosphere inside those waiting vessels had been increasingly infiltrated with the scent of male stress as well as the intoxicating cocktail of female Huntresses coming into the full hot temper of the breeding season.
When at last the final Hunt was completed, the ships were piloted into position, strung out like so many skulls on a leather cord, until they were ready to make an orderly descent down to the spaceport. Gathered at the port, spilled out like so many insects onto the surrounding roadways were countless Hunters who had gathered to welcome their female counterparts home. Never in history had so many females gone on their Chiva missions at the same time. Never in history had so many males congregated to greet them, ready to attempt to bask in their heady fragrance and tantalizing tempers. Nearly every Hunter on the planet wanted to be able to tell the tale of having been there to welcome the reemerged females of Yaut. The promise of victorious females who might already broadcast the beckoning rut fragrance that drove even the least Hunter to hold his head high and unwisely challenge those he knew would beat him bloody, proved a potent lure even to Hunters who had never swathed themselves in the perfume of a Huntress before.
Each ship landed in turn and the hatchway opened to reveal a parade of victorious Yautja females followed by the older Hunters assigned to the mission. Each Huntress carried her trophies and held them high for all to admire as they were introduced by the mission Elder, one by one, to the roaring crowd. Then, a phalanx of black armored Arbitrators swarmed over to escort each female to her first adult dwelling. It was there that she would also be introduced to her mate – an Elder. All of them were of the High Council, except the Honored Ancient A'dairfr. All pairings had been chosen by drawing lots as agreeing on which Elder should mate which females had proved an impossible task.
Since all the High Elders, with one exception, were mating two females – that pair of females would be in separate living quarters, right next to each other. The High Elder would then select which one he would mate first or possibly let the females decide. The Elder who had only a single female to rut, due to the death of his other chosen female, had been satiated by being promised females from the already-in-training next generation. And the Ancient A'dairfr? He was quite satisfied with being on the list at all.
As yet unknown to her, Chance had been paired with A'dairfr – the only male to mate with a Yautja female this season who was not on the High Council. He accompanied her off the ship and soon disappeared with her behind the living black wall that was their guard. She had been wary of the closeness of this very old one but soon welcomed a familiar figure as the cluster of Arbitrators guided them through the crowd and to Chance's new quarters. She wondered why the Honorable Ancient had come with her. It was considerate of him, she supposed, to want to make certain she was in her new place safely. It was a long hike which took even longer due to the pressing crowds of Hunters blocking their way. The Arbitrators barked orders to them to clear a path, but the Hunters were more interested in trying to obtain a huff of Chance and did not obey. This resulted in them being physically tossed to the left and right as the burley and unsympathetic Arbitrators opened the way. Along the route, some of the Hunters even tried to get through the Arbitrators in order to get to Chance. They were simply mowed down or slung out of the way. As they bounced into others in the crowd many fights ensued. Chance could hear the challenge growls and sounds of earnest scuffle as she was being escorted to her dwelling. But she could see little with the massive guards surrounding her and the greatly honored old Hunter blocking her view.
Ulfrde and her sisters, Arndís and Signý, were also being taken, each one in the middle of a cluster of midnight armor, to their respective suites. Ulfrde had lost sight of Yrándr as soon as the Arbitrators had closed in around her. She felt suffocated within the moving cocoon and stifled the urge to slug one of them out of the way. Periodically, the face or arm of an unknown Hunter appeared as he tried to force past the guards to her, gasping for huffs of her scent, only to be thrown to the pack which congealed around them. The growls of fighting made her blood rise in excitement. She knew they were fighting because of her. Due to her size and reputation, she might be the most desirable female on the planet right now. I demand to make the choice myself! Her thoughts came out in a long growl, causing several of the Arbitrators to look at her. One even ventured a small huff. She glared at him and quickened her pace, knocking into the guards in front of her. "Hurry!" she ordered, and the guards hastened at her command. Their crowns bristled involuntarily, her rut scent and the issued order aroused them, but they kept discipline and moved along. Soon, they reached her destination – the guest quarters within the Matriarch's house and she left their ranks, hurrying through the main door and securing it behind her. Some of the Arbitrators joined the regular house guard to form an impenetrable wall outside the Matriarch's main portal. Others ran to stand guard at the other entrances. There they would stay until Ulfrde had healed and could be taken to her proper living arrangements.
Ulfrde stood at the door for a moment, enjoying the sight of her Bearer again. "Mom!" she rumbled out and embraced the small human woman standing in front of her. "I am so glad to see you!" The great Huntress bent down her neck to bury the front of her face in her Bearer's soft silvery hair. She huffed in the beloved scent that had comforted her since she could remember while Sally's arms went as far around her giantess daughter as they could go.
"I am glad you are here, Ulfrde," she murmured. "Easy daughter, your arms are strong!"
The Huntress let go of her and beamed down at her Bearer's face. "I did it!"
"I know! Sig-dan has been giving me reports. I am so very proud of you! No mother could be prouder of her offspring than I am of you, my dearest Ulfrde."
"Would you like to see my scars and hear of the hunt?"
"Of course I do! Let me show you to your room for the next few cycles and you can tell me all about it. Sig-dan says you are to rest, so I will be waiting on you." Sally's voice was full of joy. To spent uninterrupted time with one of her daughters brought happiness to her heart.
Ulfrde's mandibles formed a Yautja frown as she heard Sally's words. "You should not wait on me, Mother. That is a job for your Aseigan!"
Looking around to insure they were not overheard, Sally retorted, "I know, but I claim a mother's privilege – and also a Matriarch's! So off to bed young lady and I will bring you some food!"
It was only in privacy that her Bearer referred to her as 'young lady'. Ulfrde knew that this, along with an insistence upon feeding her in bed, was an oomanism and she tolerated it out of love for her sometimes quirky Bearer. "Sure, Mom. We'll pretend I'm a pup again!" She spread her mandibles wide and watched Sally head toward the house galley with a little spring in her step. It was good to see her Bearer again and good to be in her care, although such a fact must never become known outside of the two of them. Fearless Huntress returns from Chiva to Bearers personal care. How many challenges would I have to face over that? Ulfrde wondered to herself. She obediently headed for the large bed, leaving a neat pile of her worn clothing on the bench at the foot. Before climbing into the lush furs, she paused at the three-way mirror to appreciate the pock marks that now peppered her back and the large depression in the shoulder muscle where Sig'dan had dug out the Hard Meat tail tip. That will present quite the seductive view, she decided with satisfaction, and then slipped between the furs. How will Yrándr be able to withstand that? Her tusks clicked happily as she waited for the feast her Bearer would bring and began to think about how she would ensure some time alone with Yrándr.
Arndís walked with her usual grace and calmness through the thumping, sometimes howling, crowd of overexcited Hunters. She and her sisters had been first to complete their Hunt and that honor was not lost on the mountains of vigor that surrounded the shield of Arbitrators who accompanied her to her quarters. She held herself regally in perfect imitation of her Bearer and pretended to pay no notice to the waves of Hunter musk wafting through the air, the chatter of clicking tusks and loud huffs that trailed in her wake or the Hunters that vainly tried to breach the dark, deadly barricade surrounding her.
Once installed in her apartment, her assigned mate would present himself to her. Not knowing which of the High Council Elders it would be disturbed her usual easy-flowing train of thoughts. It would require an immediate reaction on her part, she realized, if the assigned Elder was not to her liking. Even though she had previously decided, after careful study and review of each of them, that only the Council Leader would really do she had decided to keep an open mind. He was the one she wanted to join her genes with and create new life. There were several others on the Council who wouldn't be a bad match but it was difficult to get enthusiastic about anyone except her mind's chosen. What will I do if it's not him? What if it's one of the acceptable choices? Oh Paya! What if he's not acceptable at all?
She tried to hide her inner nervousness as the door to the new dwelling was opened for her. She entered and enjoyed taking a breath of cleaner air – air that was not chewably thick with Hunter tang. To her relief, she scented no one inside. There was no telling when her mate would show up. She had recently bathed and prepared herself back on the Hunt ship, dressing in her finest leathers along with the beautiful jeweled necklace that her ForeSire had purchased for her many cycles ago. It draped from around her protective collar as the fiery stones gleamed against fine skin and sparkled as her breasts heaved with nervous breaths.
This is foolish! I'm honing my worries needlessly. Find something else to focus on and deal with whoever is your mate when they appear! She ordered herself to dutifully begin the arrangement of her Hunt trophies on the large wall along with several worthy skulls she had obtained during her training. Proper placement of treasures from the Hunt was one of the courses she had attended prior to her Chiva. There were acknowledged guidelines as to the correct sequence and order of the bones and skulls. It took an artful eye to achieve a pleasing balance and textural variety.
She nearly lost herself in the pleasant task and had just completed placing the last of her Chiva skulls when her door signaled. He's here! She willed her stomach back down to its proper place and touched the viewer control to see who stood at the door. Her tusks ground together in distress as the form of an Aseigan appeared. What the Hel?
"What do you want?" she spoke through the com.
"My Master wishes to know if you are prepared to receive him." The servant kept his eyes low.
Well, his Master is either very considerate or…what's that word Mom uses? Wimp, I think. Is he a wimp? A High Elder? NO! He couldn't be. She replied, "That depends. Who is your Master?"
"The High Elder of the Dor'an."
What? The Dor'an Elder will mate with someone outside his Clan? Since when? The blood of challenge raced to her face, and she ripped open the door, foregoing the com, "What kind of a prank is this?"
The Aseigan cowered at her imposing presence, his eyes begging the floor for help as a strong male voice came from behind him. "It was only my way of gently informing you, Honorable Arndís. My servant was following my command to him. I knew that my being your mate would come as a surprise." He assertively pushed his way through the door and stood in the entryway, shutting the heavy door behind him. Arndís took several unexpected steps backward. Taking in the High Elder of the Dor'an Clan, the astonishment combined with disappointment could not be mistaken in her scent, or upon her face. Her tusks went from challenge to droop and then back to challenge again as a low rumble formed in her throat.
"I assert my right, as old as time, to choose my OWN mate, High Elder! My choice is not you!" She filled the hallway with her growled words, her eyes burning bright and dangerous. The High Elder's hand went unconsciously to the weapon at his waist. This was not the Arndís he had been expecting - the nimble, social Arndís who was charmed by his sense of humor, chittering to be mated by an Elder of the High Council.
She raised her face in challenge to him, not the challenge of rut but in the challenge of the fight, as a ferocious roar issued forth from her open jaw-ways. His mandibles dropped in shock as she stomped towards him ready to deliver his demise, her brown eyes sparking out anger. His response was to crouch down to the instinctive posture, stretching his heavy tusks out in full display. Then he answered with a growl that trembled the room and could be heard well outside of the dwelling. The black-armored guardian Arbitrators flashed tusky upper mandible grins at each other and resumed their watch just as an armored Elder Hunter approached the front entry.
Quickly, they tightened their grouping and were about to order him to stop his approach when they recognized him and became completely confused. He stopped in front of them to raise one fist and bounce the other off his massive chest, before roaring his challenges. "Come out and fight me, if you dare! You are not worthy of the Huntress who dwells here! I claim our ancient rite of battle for the privilege of mounting her!"
The Arbitrators stared at each other. Why was he here, making challenge, when he should be with his assigned females? This was definitely out of order and had not been planned for. They looked to their highest ranking for a solution. He assessed the gigantic Elder before him, still strong in body and will and was glad he would not be the one who had to fight him. Even with all his training, to go up against one so experienced in his craft was to invite at least severe injury. It had been some time since he had witnessed a rut fight, and even longer since he had watched a serious battle between two High Elders. This was completely within the law and would be most entertaining to watch. With a nod to the challenger, he motioned his troops aside and assumed the passive stance of an observer.
Inside the dwelling, the mounting aggression between Arndís and the Elder Dor'an Hunter came to a stand-still as they both heard the deep voice from outside. With a snarl, the Hunter sprang from his crouch and rushed outside to deal with the interloper. Ulfrde's heart, stopped by the sound of the well-known tones, resumed beating as she hurriedly followed outside to watch.
It's HIM, the one I want! How? Why isn't he with his females? Arndís head spun with questions as she watched her two suitors charge each other in a great clash of rock-solid bodies and light armor. Each of them held a weapon and she knew this fight would be to the death. The very serious business of passing on one's genes was not taken lightly by the Yautja. Anyone who dared to challenge a Dor'an High Council Elder for his right to a female was risking much – even if he was the great and glorious Leader of the High Council. This fight would be for everything: for honor, for your place on the Council and for the continuation of your bloodline - truly, the only things of value to these senior Hunters.
The blaring roars did not last long as the two slammed each other. Arndís nearly flinched at the impact of the huge bodies hitting. She watched her desired one with eager anticipation and the rejected one with wary dislike. The musk of unbridled anger reached her mouth and she tasted just how furious the Council Leader was with his opponent. It made a shiver run down her back at the thought of his passionate demand for her. A demand so strong he had apparently abandoned his other mates to come for her. The thought made her burn deep within. The epitome of all that I want fights to mate ME!
The mountain of flesh that was the Leader of the High Council pounded on the sealed doorways before him. First going to one, he attempted to bash the thick metal in with fists leaving blood glazing its surface. Going to the other door, he kicked at it with one metal sandaled foot until a slight dully scraped area was visible at the bottom. Finally he stood, heaving from exertion, grinding his tusks in aggravation and finally letting the present reality sink in. They had locked him out! The two females that were his by the random choice of the lottery (wisely suggested by the Matriarch) had made their rejection of him plain by sealing their doorways and refusing to answer his calls on their coms. How dare they, had been his first thought as he stood, catching his breath from beating up doors. The calmness that always accompanied physicality suddenly washed over him and he began to think. They are as the females before them – controlling us…rejecting some and accepting others. In fact, it is most fitting. It is apparent…we should not have chosen for them. Who have these two chosen? Without the collision of the sexes, the challenges, the fights…our rutting season is much poorer. How were these two able to select the Hunters that would be the best Sires? Have their sisters done the same?
He hit his com to contact several other High Elders only to find that one had been taken by surprise and physically thrown out of a dwelling by both his females. Another did not answer so he assumed that one had been successful in gaining acceptance. His always proud shoulders slumped just a minuscule amount as he left the dwelling, his musk daring the Arbitrators to say anything or even take a deep breath as he walked he whirled and glared, his eyes informing them that if he ever heard the tale of this event being told he would deliver them to Cetanu!
He continued to walk away, immersed in deep thought even as his still rising libido competed with his mind for attention. If I could determine which males my females have selected, I could challenge them. Perhaps I will wait and see if they emerge and watch where they go in search of mates. He shuddered at the thought of hiding around a corner like a rut-struck pup, waiting to see where the Huntress of his dreams went and who she selected as a mate. All youths played such games and learned as best they could what kind of Hunters attracted the females. Out of nowhere the image of Arndís jumped into the vision of his mind. What choice has she made? She is worthy of me…worth fighting for! She was most coy with me during the training. He remembered her usual unflirtatious behavior changing whenever she was near him.
The watching Arbitrators outside the dwelling of the Hunter's rejection were disbanding and preparing to return to the Hall of Arbitrators when one of them drew the group's attention to the street to see the Leader of the High Elders leave and begin running as fast as they had seen any Hunter run. The breeze brought back the scent of his musk to them and they read the molecules of aggression and lust. They looked at each other in confusion. Why was he leaving? Was it possible the females had denied him? The sound of his fists and feet on the doors had been long and loud.
"Perhaps we should alert the masses," one joked. "Anyone who crosses him is in for the beating of his life."
"He is running in the direction of our travel," another noted, "Let us follow him and perhaps we will be entertained." The troop piled in to several hovercrafts and maneuvered down the avenue trailing the High Elder at a discrete distance. They took another track however, when the Elder, completely alert to their presence, stood in the middle of the parkway with his hands on his hips in wait for them, obviously ready to challenge them one-by-one if necessary. The hovercrafts abruptly turned down another roadway and the High Elder resumed his run towards the dwelling of Arndís which he had located using his com. He ran up to the guardian Arbitrators there, his body language rife with menace and soon blared out his challenge to the Hunter within her walls. His barks were answered with heavy footfall as the Hunter appeared, quite ready for the fight. He will soon be as the dust! And here is Arndís to witness my victory. She will know that I alone am worthy to Sire her pup!
The circling was short-lived as the two magnificent Hunters crashed, made mindless with rage and rut. Each was in their prime. The massive High Council Leader, with a chest practically as broad as two of his brethren, and the more refined, muscled yet wiry, Dor'an High Elder. Arndís watched in wonder as their eyes glazed over and the brawl continued, not the elegant fighting form of Hunters engaged in jehdin-jehdin, but the bone-crushing, head-pummeling movements driven by the base desire to destroy the opponent and insure his Bloodline was ended. The Dor'an Elder was quick and spry. His battles were often won because he was faster and outmaneuvered his opponent. But in this fight, his sensibilities had left him and he joined the Leader in the time-honored Yautja tactic of trying to bash your competitor's brains out. The brawl was quickly ended as a massive downward crush from the swinging hammer-fist of the Leader drove the Dor'an Elder into blissful unconsciousness. Without a glance at the fallen, the Leader turned to Arndís, engulfing her in his glaze which immediately switched from the single-mindedness of battle to all-encompassing focus on planting himself within her.
He stood, gasping for air from violently beating the Dor'an, and waited for her to approach. She stood and stared back at him in a long teasing eye-lock as new eddies of her scent perfumed the air. She huffed-in his decisive maleness several times and then strode up to him with deliberation. Her walk was precise, designed to draw out the pleasurable agony of courtship. He watched her well-formed legs take each step; her hips making the soft leather draped from them sway gently. Her waist, small and tight, rhythmically driven with every step powered by her generously spaced hips. High and tight breasts caused the soft leather of her draping top to softly curve outward and a strand of jewels beckoned from her cleavage. The graceful neck led upwards to her aristocratic face where high cheekbones were underlain with a set of fine feminine mandibles. Each one graced by a delicate pure, white tusk above which a set of blazing eyes threatened to feast on him alive. Her softly ridged crown was high with excitement as the bases of her thick black locks erected themselves over the gentle ridges of her generous forehead. All in all, she was a true Yautja beauty to feast one's eyes upon who was also tall for her young age which placed her at the same height as the Dor'an who still snoozed comfortably on the ground. She came up to mid-chest on the Elder and he remembered that he needed to be somewhat careful with her this first time.
Her dominant hand reached out to plant firmly upon the rock of his mid-chest as a soft growl came from between her petite fangs. "I thank Paya that you are here. You are my first choice above all others." She tilted her head and peered seductively at him, releasing a new volley of want from her well-situated musk glands which were now on over-drive. Hitting him again, this time with greater intent, she said loudly, "As in cycles past, I proudly claim this male as mine. I claim him before you all as the witnesses of my claim!"
So she is a traditionalist after all, a rational thought cut through his desires. His reply came in the form of lightning as she suddenly found her wrists bound by cuffs of flesh and her body spun and bent forward, her cloth ripped from his hips and his immense warmth curved over her. "You did not even ask to see my trophies," he rumbled gently into her hearing.
"There was no need," she gasped, feeling his hot hardness prodding at her. His next words came loudly for all the witnessing Arbitrators he spoke the traditional response, "You are beautiful and most honorable, my Arndís. My desire will be completed within you." As he boomed this last, she felt his prods turn into a full thrust entering her body. Her flesh welcomed him, even as he stretched out and broke into the untouched part of her body. A flash of pain seared for only a moment while her partner thoughtfully stayed still. When he felt her begin to breathe again he began thrusting and was soon gliding in and out of her in conjoined ecstasy. Mutual grunts and growls joined slapping, wet nuances and as her inner muscles tightened around him, he drove deeper with shorter strokes. Suddenly it came – his large head was trapped within her clamping tunnel as she writhed and convulsed to pull all the seed from him. His accompanying bay of pleasure as he filled her with surges of eager liquid only stopped when he bent to sink massive tusks into the pliant flesh of her virgin back. Her blood oozed up around his tusks while his tongue played, lapping up the life spilled from her. He released his bite and surveyed the superior wideness of his marks. Surely any Hunter would think twice about challenging him in the future should she beckon him again. He felt her inner spasms die down and the moisture seep from around his base still buried inside her. Growling his admiration of her, he began again.
The group of witnesses had grown, as the Arbitrators following the High Council Leader had circled, resuming their search and finding him. Other Hunters, attracted by the scent and noise had also joined the crowd. The fight had been short, but spectacular, the observers agreed and watching such a well-earned rut was an honorable experience for all of them – not to mention fuel with which to ease their frustrations in the middle of the night. The sun was in the sky, Yautja males had fought and the winner was now involved in enthusiastically seeding the female who had accepted him, and all had happened under the public eye. All was right on Yaut.
