Birthday Wishes
Roffi rolled out of his cot in the morning right on top of Shikka. "Sorry!" he said hastily as she sat up, shaking herself awake.
"I had to get up anyway," she said with a yawn that showed off her pointy little teeth. All over the room, on the floor and on cots, the other otters and weasels were stretching and yawning and scratching bed-matted fur. One or two had looked over at Roffi's yelp, but were soon back to their waking rituals.
"Still not used to all the people being here," he said, grooming himself.
"Only another few days," Shikka said. "Then back to normal, yah."
"Yah." Roffi nodded. The Burning Waters was the closest resort to the governor's mansion up the mountain, where the king and his court were vacationing this year, though why they wanted to be up on the cold mountain rather than down in the nice warm valley he couldn't figure. Maybe they were all thick-furred and liked it cold and wet. But the ones he'd attended down here in the last few days had certainly seemed to enjoy the heat. So maybe there was another reason.
"Give my paws a rest," Shikka said, stretching. "Even with all of us here it's so busy!"
Roffi nodded, looking around the room again. Usually no more than five otters at a time stayed here, but all twelve on staff had been retained for the weeks of the king's visit, with the promise of the chance to wait on royalty, or, failing that, generous tips. That meant, among other things, that they all slept in the small boarding room, taking turns between the cots and the floor, and that Roffi hadn't been able to travel back to his home in the south of Vellenland to celebrate his birthday today.
Birthdays in his village were usually close family affairs, with lots of cavorting in the pools of his village and a great deal of playing. Some of his friends said it didn't really matter whose birthday it was, because everyone had a great time, but since Roffi had gotten his very nice job at Burning Waters, he only really went home for his own birthday. He could go home any other time for someone else's, but it was a week's trip, so it was hard to take the time.
If he told the other otters here, they would insist on doing something, and everyone was as worn out as he was, so no one would enjoy it. He didn't want to be the cause of that, and besides, he was working himself up to feel good and sorry for himself, which would not replace a birthday party but was nearly as self-indulgent, and so he felt it appropriate.
Mick, the weasel they all reported to, poked his head in the door. "Sunrise on the way," he said, and vanished as quickly as he'd come.
Everyone groaned, and then Shikka waved her paws. "Happy faces people! Today we serve the king!"
Roffi grinned and cheered with the rest of them, his sad mood temporarily forgotten. They had not yet seen the king himself, and had been told they would not, but they had seen a couple noble bears, and it was a sort of competition between them to see which one would get to groom the king after his bath if he did come down to the resort. Each of them had promised to make a full report to the others in that case, and each of them hoped to be the one to sit at the head of the boarding room telling his or her story to the rapt audience.
Roffi spent a few extra minutes patting down his sleek fur and examining his hips and waistline from every angle, adjusting his shorts to be modest yet alluring, a little lower on the hips than was absolutely necessary. Shikka adjusted her little white tunic similarly, letting it hang down off one shoulder and hiking it up past her knees. "How do I look?" She spread her arms for Roffi.
"Delicious," he said. "How about me?"
"Good enough to pin down and tickle." She grinned at him, wiggling her claws.
"You don't have the energy," he said, laughing, and she joined him.
"Right. Let's go meet the sun and the king." She hooked her arm through his and he walked out with her.
Shikka was his oldest friend at the resort, as they'd joined the same year and were still working three years later when most of the other staff had been replaced. They walked out together and reported in to Mick, and then stood and gossiped while waiting for their first customers. Roffi kept reminding himself to be depressed, but it was hard around Shikka.
"Did you see Yelty and Dinn sneaking back in?"
"No! I saw Yelty sneaking out with Chima last night though."
"She gets around. But listen, Dinn woke up Hux and went right back out again."
Roffi shook his head. "I can't believe anyone has the energy after working all day."
"Well, Dinn doesn't exactly work all day," Shikka said, indicating the bathroom.
"I guess not, but still.Yelty does."
"Yelty's fifteen. Remember when you and I were fifteen?"
"Yeah." He grinned, and then Mick came around and handed him a stack of towels.
"Cabin three. It's not the king," he said, as Roffi opened his mouth to ask. "Weasel's tail, I'm sick of you people asking. It's a bobcat."
Roffi waved to Shikka. "See you tonight," he said, and composed himself before going out to the cabin.
Cabin three was for medium-sized customers, taller than Roffi's four and a half feet in height. He sniffed the familiar piney aroma emanating from the pile of white dust in the long wooden bath in the center of the cabin, and padded to the corner to make sure there were enough towels there. Keeping one ear open, he took the long-handled rake and raked the dust, more to fill the air with the aroma more strongly than to smooth out the dust.
The bobcat strolled in, his fur damp and scraggly from the baths. He had only a towel around his plump waist, which he cast aside as soon as he walked into the cabin. For a moment, he stood naked, scrutinizing Roffi, and the otter lifted his chin and chest. Here was where tips were doubled or tripled, as the customer made the decision about how much "grooming" he wanted.
"Hmph." The bobcat lay down in the dust without another word.
Up close, the wet cat smell overwhelmed even the pine, no matter how much dust Roffi scooped on top of him. He tried brushing it through and snagged the fur in the brush several times, twice in the short tail, and even though the customer didn't say anything, he was upset at himself. "Turn over, sahr," he said when he was done, and the bobcat levered his bulk around to lie on his back.
Roffi scooped more dust onto him and brushed more carefully through the matted fur, making it nice and soft. He guided the brush expertly around the sheath, and then, even though he didn't really want to, teased the bristles lightly up it, holding his breath.
And, unfortunately, the bobcat was getting hard, already showing at the tip.
Roffi finished his brushing and sighed inwardly. "Anything else, sahr?"
"Yes," the bobcat said, waving a lazy paw down at his crotch. "You can finish that."
"Yes, sahr," Roffi said, trying to look pleased at the prospect. He reached down to stroke the bobcat's growing hardness.
"With your mouth," the cat said, and lay back and closed his eyes.
"Yes, sahr." Roffi leaned over and put the tip gently between his lips, keeping his paw wrapped around the base and squeezing gently as the bobcat got stiffer, his pink length sliding further out of his sheath until Roffi's little mouth was nearly full. The salty cat taste wasn't so bad, he supposed, bobbing up and down on it and licking the warm flesh as it dripped pre. It certainly wasn't the worst thing he'd had to do, and it was all business.
"Unh," the bobcat grunted, and Roffi could feel the twitching in his shaft. He curled his paw around the tightening sac and massaged with gentle fingers as the large hips thrust up towards him, forcing his head backwards. The rapidly leaking tip brushed the back of his throat as he leaned back, and then the bobcat's meaty paw was on his head, forcing it back down.
It took a great deal of restraint to keep from gagging. He struggled against the paw, but could only reposition his head so that the thick shaft didn't quite hit his gag reflex. Fingers closed around his ears and pushed him up and down as the bobcat shuddered, his body rippling under the fur. "Unh, yes, good little servant..."
Roffi closed his eyes and let the customer guide his head, concentrating on not gagging as he was pushed up and down the cat's shuddering erection. His fingers felt the spasming in the base of the cat's shaft, which gave him a moment to prepare himself before the hot seed gushed into his throat. He coughed, trying to get some room to breathe, but the inexorable pressure of the cat's paw kept his head imprisoned around the hot shaft as it continued to spurt seed into his mouth. He tried hard to swallow and keep his mouth closed, but he couldn't help a few drips down the length as the bobcat continued to come.
That seemed to go on forever. He swallowed two mouthfuls, and then finally the bobcat sighed and relaxed into the dust, sending clouds of pine scent into the air that Roffi could barely smell around the thick odor of cat musk permeating his nose.
It took him three cups full of spiced tea to get the taste out of his mouth, but at least the bobcat left him a good tip. Happy birthday, he thought morosely, relaxing by himself in the waiting area and munching a piece of dried fruit.
"Roffi!" He jumped to his feet as Mick leaned around the door. "Cabin thirteen."
The otter's eyes widened. "Thirteen? Is it..."
Mick grinned at him. "Ay, don't know, but might be. Go, go!"
As fast as he could, he ran to the wide shadow cast by cabin thirteen, the large cabin they'd built just to accommodate the king's court. The bath it held was a full eight feet long and six wide, big enough to hold eight otters and weasels, and they'd had to prepare a huge pile of dust for it. Roffi had heard that they'd had to import ten more gallons of pine oil. It had been used three times so far, all for bears who were not the king.
They didn't have any larger towels, but they'd prepared twice the normal number. Roffi checked three times to make sure there were enough, double-checked the basket to make sure it was empty, raked the dust until the air smelled like a mountain forest, and then fluffed up his chest fur, smoothed down his sides and groomed his tail, until he heard someone approaching outside. He stood up and snapped to attention.
A tall, young stag stepped into the cabin, dressed in a loose tunic. Roffi blinked, but managed to keep his ears up. "Oh," he said. "Welcome, sahr."
The stag looked around the cabin and then approached him. "Good afternoon," he said. "Please excuse the imposition."
Before he had time to ask 'what imposition,' the stag had knelt down and placed both hands on Roffi's shorts, feeling and squeezing them from all angles. He was gentle on the otter's sheath, not so gentle on his rear, and when he was done, brushed his fingers along Roffi's legs. From there, he checked Roffi's tail and then stomach and chest, and finally stood.
Roffi blinked, bewildered. He'd never had a customer be so straightforward about expressing interest in him, and on top of that, the stag stayed impassive throughout. "If sahr would lie down," he said timidly, but the stag ignored him, striding back to the entryway.
"Come in, sir," he said, and the doorway was blocked by a massive shadow, and Roffi understood everything.
The bear ambled in, his fur matted and damp, but his smell wasn't nearly as objectionable as the cat's had been. He raised a paw and smiled at Roffi. "On my back or stomach?"
Roffi's eyes flicked to the stag, who stepped quietly out of the cabin and drew the curtain. His antlered shadow stayed fixed on the fabric like a stitched pattern. The otter looked up at the bear. Despite the cat and all the tea, his mouth was suddenly very dry. "Stomach first," he whispered, "then back. Sahr."
"All right." The bear lay obediently on his stomach, filling the air with clouds of white scented dust.
Roffi set about his grooming, noting as he did how well the bear's fur was kept, and how even though he had a soft layer of fat under the fur, it wasn't nearly as thick as the obese bobcat's. Roffi could feel the powerful muscles underneath easily, even from just the motions of the brush. He grew nervous as he brushed the small tail and rear, but he forced himself to brush with firm strokes.
He worried that the bear might be asleep by the time he was done nearly half an hour later. It had never taken him that long to brush someone, and it didn't help that he kept going over the same areas on the backs of the thighs, up the slope to the base of the spine, and the backs of the massive arms, just to feel the muscles there. But when he coughed lightly and said, "Turn--turn over now, sahr," the bear responded immediately with movements so smooth and gentle that he barely raised any dust at all.
And there was his chest, twin plateaus of muscle above a well-rounded belly. And on the other side of his belly, a thick sheath as large as Roffi's wrist. He couldn't stop staring at it, wondering what it would look like when fully erect. "Here, sahr," he said, draping a towel over the bear's muzzle. "For--for the dust."
"Thank you," the bear said in his deep rumble from under the towel.
"You're welcome, sahr," Roffi said, fidgeting and finally scooping dust onto the bear's chest, belly, legs, and sheath. Starting at the chest, he began to brush through the wet fur, taking his time to admire the broad curves of muscle.
He traveled next up the stately hill of the bear's belly, smoothing the fur in regular patterns down the body, admiring the thickness and how well it lay with the dust. Misremembering how long the sheath was, he didn't see it under the dust and brushed the tip of it with the bristles.
The bear didn't react, but Roffi jerked his arm back, heart pounding. The towel covering the bear's features didn't move. He licked his lips, and then continued brushing as if nothing had happened, moving carefully around the sheath and down the thighs.
Once the shock of his mistake had worn off, though, he couldn't keep away from the sheath, brushing closer and closer to it, around the bear's huge sac, until that was the only part white with dust and he could no longer put it off. Glancing again at the towel, he drew the brush up the long sheath and then down the sac, then repeated the gesture again, working the dust into the thin fur.
He didn't register the engorgement of the sheath immediately because it happened gradually, but when he saw the pink tip show at the end of the dark brown sheath, he blinked and pulled his paw back. How long had he been stroking? And the customer hadn't...he hadn't...
The bear had twitched the towel free and was looking right at Roffi, a small quirk of a smile on his muzzle.
Roffi's knees gave way, dropping him to kneel on the floor of the cabin. "Oh, sahr," he said, "my apologies. Your grooming is done."
"Mmm," the bear said, and stood up from the dust bath, shaking himself. Dust and pine filled the air. "Not quite," he said, turning around so the otter could see the patterns of dust in the fur on his back.
"Oh, yes!" Roffi scrambled to his feet, applying the brush as high as he could reach. When he'd finished, he looked up at the bear's shoulders, still sprinkled with white. "Um, if sahr could..."
"Of course." The bear knelt, allowing Roffi to groom his shoulders.
"All done, sahr." Roffi smiled. His heart was starting to return to something like its normal pace. He wasn't going to get in trouble for fondling the k--er, his customer. He might even get a good tip.
That statement remained lodged in his head as the bear turned around and Roffi saw the long pink shaft held in one loose paw, the thumb and finger still working along the length. The bear must have been...all the time he was brushing his back...and that meant...that meant...
"Now," the bear said, "perhaps you would kneel for me?"
Too many words crowded the otter's throat for him to speak. He just nodded and dropped to his knees, and even so, he had to crane his head up to reach the proper height. The bear helped, angling the tip of his shaft down so Roffi could take it into his short muzzle.
It was bigger than the bobcat's, much bigger, but the bear was gentler, allowing Roffi to go at his own pace. He closed his eyes and sealed his lips around the warm flesh, bobbing back and forth and reflecting that the bear's musk was far preferable to the cat's. As he slid his muzzle as far down as he could, he lifted a paw to fondle the dangling sac that spilled over the edge of his fingers, and the bear lowered a paw, but only traced the fur around Roffi's ears with a claw as the otter pulled back and slid forward.
Musk filled his muzzle, but not the full musk of climax, just more and more pre drizzling down his tongue. He gulped and felt his own arousal growing at the intoxicating taste of bear, and his tail curled around his ankles as his body shivered. And then the bear was pushing his head back, and Roffi licked his lips, looking up. "Sahr?"
The bear smiled. "Do you have any...oils?"
"Oh, yes sahr!" Roffi reached below the bath and brought out the small bottle of flaxseed oil. "Would sahr like..."
The bear dropped to one knee and brought his huge paw up between Roffi's legs, rubbing the otter's erection as Roffi gaped at him. "Sahr would like," he said. "Would you?"
And again, Roffi could only nod. The bear pushed up gently until Roffi got to his feet, tottering unsteadily, and then the bear tugged his shorts down.
Roffi stepped out of them, carefully, as the bear's paw had returned to feel his length, stroking up it with a thumb and forefinger. "You're quite delightful," the bear said, and smiled.
"Th-thank you, sahr," Roffi said.
The bear kept smiling as he put the flaxseed oil into Roffi's paw and turned him around gently. The paw that had been stroking his erection lifted his tail and held it there.
Roffi dumped the oil into a paw and slapped it under his tail, pressing a finger into his tailhole and making himself as slick as possible. He felt as though this might be a dream, that he had dozed off in the waiting area and was dreaming that he was standing in this cabin about to get the k--a noble inside him. A small part of him made him use another paw full of oil, reminding him that dream or not, the bear was pretty big.
He dropped to all fours when he was done, and the bear's bulk moved quickly over him, covering his body with dry, pine-scented fur and muscles. One huge arm moved under him, lifting him partly off the floor and holding him tight to the broad belly.
It felt like being lifted into a warm bed, but Roffi didn't relax, waiting for the pressure under his tail. When he felt the probing tip, he relaxed as best he could, and a moment later the shaft was sliding into him.
He panted, one dangling paw moving to his own erection and stroking. The bear kept pushing, until Roffi thought there couldn't possibly be any more inside him, his gut feeling warm from the hard length. Then the bear grunted and pushed, and Roffi squeaked despite himself, and the bear pushed again, and Roffi squeezed his own shaft, gasping at the pain and pleasure of being stretched so wide.
Finally, the enormous length slid out of him almost all the way, and then pushed back in. The second time wasn't nearly as bad, and the third time the pain began to subside. The bear grunted again, and his paw held Roffi tighter, lifting him higher off the ground until the otter was just hanging over his customer's muscular arm, squirming as the thick shaft thrust into him over and over. Roffi stopped even stroking himself, because his own shaft had become so sensitive that he worried he'd come all over the cabin floor. Instead, he closed his eyes and just let himself enjoy the sensation as his customer buried his length inside his tight rear, spreading it wide again and again, thrusting faster and grunting more loudly as he did.
His own shaft felt like it was on fire, and Roffi realized that he was going to come anyway. He tried to brace his legs against the floor, but he couldn't reach any more, so he braced them back against the bear's legs and tried to thrust back with his hips, squeezing the bear's shaft as best he could inside him. There was a small echo of pain, but his customer shuddered and moaned, and the thrusting quickened, so he did it again. Above him, the belly rippled and the bear gave a throaty moan, and the thick paw holding Roffi tightened around him.
Roffi closed his eyes and braced himself, moaning himself now with each thrust of the bear into him, and he couldn't stop his paw from stroking anymore. He squeaked as he came, spurting over his paw and onto the cabin ground, his body trembling and clenching around the bear's quickly moving shaft.
Above him, the bear growled and moaned again, and jammed him down hard on the rock-hard length. Roffi spurted one more time and cried out as he was lifted and jammed down hard again and again, and then pressed down and held down while the bear panted and growled and shuddered in climax above him. His insides felt hot, his feet twitching against the bear's legs as he absorbed the bear's seed.
He braced himself there, relaxing as his own climax subsided, and curled his tail under the bear's sac, rubbing as best he could until he felt the large ursine form relax. He was dropped abruptly to the ground, the shaft withdrawn in a smooth motion.
Roffi squeaked again in relief, and felt the warm ooze under his tail, but he didn't mind. He turned, on his knees, and reclined on his tail and paws, letting his sore rear rest. The bear looked down at him with a smile, already reaching for a towel to wipe himself off.
"Excellent service," he said, and then held out a paw when Roffi tried to get up. "No, no, stay like that. I like the view."
Roffi flicked his ears to hide the warm flush in them, but he obeyed. The bear pulled several towels from the pile and cleaned off his long shaft, and then called outside, "Shorts."
The shadow on the curtain moved for the first time, and then the curtain itself moved aside just enough to allow a hand to pass through, holding a folded pair of shorts. The bear took them and put them on, stopping Roffi every time he tried to get up, until he was dressed. "Now," he said, "you may get up."
"Thank you, sahr," Roffi called as the bulky shape moved past the curtain, and out.
He took a towel to clean himself up. His knees were still shaky, but he couldn't stop smiling, even when he rubbed the soreness under his tail. It was the king, he was sure of it.
He cleaned up the cabin and then went to tell Mick that he was taking a short break. He grabbed another piece of dried fruit and started to compose his story, thinking that perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad birthday after all.