In the well-lit gym, the only sounds were our grunts and the slap of flesh on flesh as we sparred. The three-minute rounds were always followed by a ten-minute pause. Next up was, I guess, our sixth round, and Mariella was getting the hang of managing her adrenaline.
We had also made a pact, a pact of honesty. This meant she called me a "nasty cow," and I called her a "pussy with legs," or whatever else came to mind. Our little game of honesty wasn't just limited to us, though. We'd agreed to sass whomever we wanted, and they'd just have to take it.
Mariella's insults made me smirk, too, as I imagined how Charles might react if she called him a "beancounter" who liked numbers more than, well, you know, pussy or sex. I had a few inventive names for Damon, too. He was an "overly concerned relic with a twisted sense of power" when it came to controlling women.
Oh, we were getting creative. Mariella had a nickname for Wulfe, too. According to her, Wulfe was the "forever boyfriend," and I'd called Damon the "longtime forever playboy with a Daddy fetish." Adam was working, so he wasn't there to hear Mariella's inventive version of him, the "ex-wolf with a crossed mother hen and obsessive compulsion of caring."
As I said, we didn't hold back. Mariella called Demon her "black itty bitty kitty," and Lepard, he was an "oversized serval with a too curious mind." These were just a few examples of our insults, and we weren't about to stop, not at all, as it was so damn fun to let it all out.
We hadn't paid attention to the clock when a voice from the door asked in icy stillness, "Have you two lost what little reason you had? What the fuck is going on here?"
Damon was standing with Charles at the gym door, his expression tight. Charles wasn't too happy either. We still had a minute left, and then we stopped as the buzzer sounded.
Mariella said to Damon, "Chill out, we're just blowing off some steam. We're not porcelain dolls on shelves but capable females having issues and needing to vent them out."
Damon took a breath and walked a few steps closer to Mariella, his voice soft, silky, and dangerous. "Have you forgotten the fact you are currently carrying three of my offspring in that quite damn bruised belly of yours?"
I'd gotten in a few nasty kicks, and I also had new bruises. Mariella was fast when she needed to be.
Mariella's voice dripped with sarcasm as she retorted, "Guess what, Damon? I know I'm pregnant. I can't eat anything in the mornings, my breasts are growing by the day, and you treat me like I'm made of glass, you damn male, always overreacting. And you, Cornick, how is it you had time to stop your little numbers, or do ledgers and numbers call you already?"
Charles's eyes flashed, but Mariella ignored him, speeding up her tirade. "Yeah, Cornick, the perfect protector, except you haven't touched me as a husband should in ages. You're always on Mimi's side, conveniently forgetting you're my husband too, and making me feel like trash, like I only have a husband who cares about my body, not my mind."
She glared at Damon. "I'm sick and tired of understanding you, Damon. I'm fed up with always being the one who has to listen and try to rack my brain to find something to say to ease your burden. No more, do you hear me, you goddamn lust-driven old hoot?"
She was quite inventive, and when she kept this up, it wouldn't be necessary for me to speak when she had both of them riled up nicely.
Damon said to me, "Look at you, all bruised. Do you really want to stay at home all the time? You're carrying five babies, do you understand it?"
Oh, fine, time to sell this. I just turned slightly, so my bump was even more visible.
Charles said in a thick voice, "You have a bump, oh my god, you are showing!"
I replied in a rather bored tone, "I'm not even through my first trimester, and I refuse to be wrapped in cotton wool. I need to move. My muscles need to be in shape, as these five are going to strain me, so my body needs this. You two need to get a grip and start using reason, not your emotions. God, I now understand how they always tell in shows how males get pregnant with them, well, it's not quite the same."
Damon stared at my body, speechless. I rolled my eyes. I'd been pregnant before, had a bump, and it wasn't such a big deal, but this time these two made it feel like they were seeing me pregnant for the very first time.
Mariella continued to taunt Charles. "Oh, Cornick," she began, "is it difficult to watch your wives fight? Is your brittle ego getting crushed? Can you see how good we are at this? I bet you can't even fight me, can you?"
Charles approached Mariella, stopping right in front of her. "Zip it, lustlady," he growled, "I'm not in the mood to beat up pregnant ladies, no matter how much they open their pretty little mouths about what would be more suitable wrapped around my hard, hot cock."
Mariella retaliated with a knee to Charles's groin, a kick to his chest, and a final blow to his jaw.
She took a few steps back, declaring, "That was my opinion on your little suitability for me, Cornick. Come on, or are you a little chicken?"
The taunt ignited a fire in Charles's eyes.
His hands clenched into fists as he took a few soft steps toward her, almost whispering, "Zip it, little one, or else you're in a world of hurt."
Mariella then kicked his shin, stomped on his toes, and delivered a final blow to his groin. That was all Charles needed.
"You want to fight? Fine, let's do it," he said. "Three minutes on, ten minutes off, so you can try to cope with the pain. Prepare to be in pain like never before, little one."
Mariella simply smiled, eager to continue egging Charles on; it was her favorite pastime.
I remained standing as Mariella led Charles towards the mats. Charles was ready to fight, but Mariella was not so easily defeated; she knew how to manipulate him. I gave her some instructions, my expression smug and confident.
This, of course, was catnip to Damon, who approached me and said, "Oh, little girl, wanna see what I've got?"
My sentences poured out, "I'm not sure if I'm in the mood to be your little outlet. If you're in the mood to kick my eye out of its socket again, you just can't fight fairly against me, can you? Nope, just because I'm better."
Damon stepped closer. "Better, really, baby? Well, I have no control over your collar or your implant, so I guess it's just you and me. Wanna beat me into a pulp? Come on then, show me what you've got."
I scoffed, assessing him from head to toe, debating whether I felt like entertaining him. Internally, I was itching to fight, but this was all part of my little game, designed to make him overconfident.
"Fine, let's see if you can take me. Three minutes on, ten minutes off. This is new for you, old fool."
I sneered and walked toward the blue fighting mat. Mariella and Charles were ready. I had told Mariella that we could swap, but first, we needed to teach our opponents a few painful lessons. Then, we could have some fun and make them lose it, for real.
Of course, I also had a deeper plan for myself, and it required careful preparation to execute as I had envisioned. This was just one of my backup plans, and I intended to involve Wulfe, but not yet. First, I needed to get these two heated up. Then, I would have time to deal with Wulfe. Charles was only home this week, after which he would be gone again. I would be pack leader, all part of my little plan.
Charles would be gone for a week or so more, as Christmas was approaching. He and Adam would sync up after Christmas, meaning they would both work for two weeks and be home for one, starting on December 29th.
This would give me much more time to be pack leader, which was perfect. I was going to show the whole damn pack that I wasn't an invalid, only pregnant, and that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my pack. Of course, time would tell if Damon would ever be pack leader, but not yet, not in the slightest.
As the buzzer sounded, I hit Damon with a flurry of carefully planned hits and kicks, designed to hurt, not to maim, but to piss him off and make him lose his cool, preparing him for Mariella. I knew those two needed to clash, to fight, as it was important for Damon to express himself physically, brutally, not just through sex.
I was planning to let Mariella see just how beneficial it was for Damon to take a spin in the gym and beat him into a pulp so he could also lash out. Maybe it would elevate those two to the next level, or something. I wasn't feeling lustful, not right now, and I wasn't planning to be part of what would happen after this little lesson, nope. It was part of my plan all along. Maybe I was sabotaging my happiness, but then again, I was more than a mere lust creature.
Damon grunted as my heel dug into his ribs, or my fist snapped his jaw with an uppercut. He was clearly pulling his punches. Cute. I offered no mercy, and with each blow, I chipped away at his cautious restraint, driving him to charge at me like a rhino. Then the buzzer sounded, just as he was starting to heat up. Time to cool things down.
He paced, cursing under his breath, his adrenaline surging, ready to go again. Even Mariella had caught the fever.
She approached Damon, cooing, "Oh, what's the matter, my love? Getting beaten up by a pregnant lady? Too bad, it must bruise your ego. Nice kick, Mimi, by the way."
She smirked at me as she saw the flash in Damon's eyes.
He muttered, "Be careful there, darlin', or else I might…"
Mariella smiled smugly, "Hit me? Oh, please, Damon, you don't have the heart to hurt me. So, I can beat you to a pulp, and you'll still be pulling your punches."
Damon's expression hardened. The atmosphere shifted as his aura expanded. Mariella knew exactly how to push his buttons.
The air seemed to cool, but she stood firm, sneering, "Oh, nice trick, expand your aura, try to intimidate me? Cute. Really cute, Damon, too bad it doesn't work on me."
Damon took a breath and said softly, "Fine, princess, you asked for it. Let's take the next round together, me versus you, and I promise you, you'll be in the pain of your life."
Mariella just rolled her eyes, "Oh please, Damon, you're doing it again, all talk, no action." She was clearly egging him on, and badly.
Charles looked at me and said, "You seem self-satisfied. You've really gotten Mariella in a mood, I see. But tell me, honey, do you have the guts to fight me?"
I glanced at Charles, and with a quick burst of my alpha power, I pushed, stopping him in his tracks. Soon, I heard footsteps, and Wulfe's alpha power slammed into me with full force, but I held my ground.
Wulfe said, "Oh, you're in a spry mood, huh? Wanna fight? Fine. You against me and Charles, unicorn. Let's see how well you can attack us. Three minutes in, ten out. Come on, we're ready."
A few other Salvatores had walked in, and I had called the girls in, too; they had skills of their own. Soon they were pairing up, irking a few of the Salvatores, getting them riled up. This was going exactly as I had planned.
My display of alpha power, which I knew irritated Charles, also caused Wulfe to adopt a stricter approach towards me. This was exhilarating; I was eager to have some fun with these two, not in a sexual way, but through fighting. This was crucial for all of us.
It also served to show the men that I, like Mariella, was not invalid in my need for care. I was simply tired of being sick, tired of being a victim, and wanted to prove I was fine. I was not frail, mortal, and in need of constant care.
The look on Damon's face after the operation confirmed his perception of me as a victim, not a force of nature. Well, too bad. I was not in the mood to play the victim. I was going to show them that we would be more than fine and that there was no need to fuss over us so much.
In the gym, the soft mats and white walls, now infused with pheromone-heated air, spurred us on. We exchanged hits and kicks in three-minute bursts, punctuated by grunts. Then, it was time to calm ourselves. This wasn't easy for most of them.
Mariella, Charles, Wulfe, and I knew how to do it, but the others struggled, though they eventually learned. We went through about ten rounds. By that point, Mariella was ripping the men's clothes off, inspiring other females to do the same. I fought without undressing, and whoever came at me got my A-game. No more pussyfooting or seduction.
After the last round, they went to the showers. Wulfe went too, as Emmylee and May had riled him up; he needed it. I was the last to walk to the shower, or perhaps teleported to my room, took a shower, and enjoyed the rush of endorphins.
The feeling was empowering, euphoric, and made me feel good. After a long, hot shower, I smiled as I took an inventory of my numerous bruises and contusions. But they made me feel alive. Number Two had stopped using his pendant, so the pain was manageable.
I walked to the kitchen, ate a lot, and prepared for the next day: time to go back to work. I knew the rest of the pack might take the rest of the week off, but that was fine; we would be just fine. I was the alpha female, and my little plan had unfolded exactly as it was supposed to.
I padded back to my room in the dim night light, lit my fireplace, grabbed an anatomy book, and went to bed to read. I wasn't in the mood for sleeping, especially since my little encounter with the light pole would likely resurface in my dreams, mixed with bittersweet memories of losing my cubs. That was not the mindset I wanted to be in. I was, once again, a force of nature.
There are several reasons why I chose to lead the group into the orgy but not participate. First, I needed time for myself, to be Mimi, the alpha female, not a victim, a pregnant doll, or defined by my pregnancy. Second, I wasn't in the mood. While I'd spent time in bed with men before, my body wasn't receptive. I didn't want to analyze it; I just needed space to feel. It was difficult to relax and be present when over twenty people were watching me, offering care and concern. I needed room.
Besides, the orgy benefited everyone. Sex was a healthy outlet, and denying it wouldn't help Damon. It allowed the girls to release their energy, as they were passionate women with needs.
I was also looking after my pack. This meant taking care of the newly hatched snakes, deciding when, where, and what they would eat. Furthermore, I wanted time to myself, free from the constant attention of well-meaning people.
Now, with my laptop, I've ordered more Christmas decorations: rugs, curtains, and other items. I'm unsure what this Christmas will bring, whether lustful or not, but I'm getting into the spirit. Tomorrow, I'll return to work. Perfect.