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#1 of Chloes Journey

Chloe Wintermane had never seen a slave before today.

As the twelfth daughter of Gavril Wintermane, lord of the little nation-state of Ivolgin (landlocked in nearly the dead center of the Vusik Peninsula) and one of the dozens of minor princes and lordlings that loosely made up the Canine Principalities, she was no stranger to servants. Of course, some might split hairs and class the indentured servants that all but the poorest dog or wolf was familiar with as slavery with extra steps, but she felt there was a clear difference, and felt that even more so after seeing the Exusian visitor's vixens. The servants she had known had collars identifying who they worked for so they could be returned if found abroad, and if they were disobedient then they could be thrashed, but they dressed in ragged clothes just like any of the common folk. They could leave the home, with permission, had holidays, would at least in theory someday work off their debts and be free folk again. Her family had dozens of such servants, especially with more children than the lord (or his wife, the volatile Lady Nastassya) could raise without ample help, and Chloe had been reared by them as much or more than she had been by her own parents, with servants providing her practical education and even the occasional tutor (that she had to feign interest in) that was meant to teach her courtly affairs.

The vulpine slaves of the Exusian envoy who had just this afternoon arrived to visit their crumbling family keep, however, were undeniably slaves, in the truest sense of the word. Where the collared commoners, of the sort that had bathed Chloe that morning or scurried about the table now delivering hors d'oeuvres and little glasses of vodka or anisette to the assembled guests at the banquet table, wore functional clothes and were decidedly un-sexualized, the two vixens (a red fox gird in fine gold chains and a smaller sandy-brown one with huge ears and a leather muzzle) were naked as the day they came into the world. More than just more extravagant collars than the servants they bore leashes, the circle round their necks not simply meant to identify them but to collar them like beasts, lead them the same way, and with looks of utter gratitude the two complied, padding around the smoothed stones of the banquet hall floor crawling on all fours. The albino wolf had thought to herself she had not before now even seen another woman naked, much less one in such a compromised and sexual position, and it was clear that their servitude wasn't limited to simple things like washing master's back or folding his shirts, although the girl had very little concrete idea of what that might even entail. As a virgin who was youngest in such a vast litter, she had had nothing in the way of sexual education outside of knowing the basic "Tab A goes into Slot B" of it all and her imagination tried but failed to fill in the gaps in her knowledge. Whatever capacity these foxes served their imposing Exusian master in, she was confident it must fall under the umbrella of things she did not know and blushed to even consider, although when she thought no one at the table was looking she considered them almost obsessively.

At nearly eleven feet in height, the Exusian himself (Lord Mearracar, rumored to soon be marrying into a seat at the Empire's High Council) looked as if he had walked straight out of the stained glass of a Mondic church, only missing the divine halo. This was apparently somehow average height for an Exusian male, and despite seeing the true-to-size artworks she had always assumed they couldn't possibly be so huge and intimidating in person, that it was all artistic license to make them seem greater. She had apparently assumed wrong. Lord Mearracar was everything they had said about Exusians given form: a bit under double her size, weighty enough that a special chair had been brought that would support his muscular frame, long canines protruding from his mouth past even his chin even with his mouth open, and a proud regal tuft of fur a slightly lighter brown than the rest of him protruding from the open collar of his smart green tailored suit. The thing that most gave him away as Exusian, though, was his attitude. His Lordship did not request things, he asked for them in a way that felt like a command, his tone giving off a distinct impression that despite his kind words you were always on a knife edge and best be quick about complying with his requests. People responded to it (God, she responded to it) when he wrested control of the conversation and eventually the entire dinner, and so naturally that no one noticed and would in fact be confused were he to ever give control of the conversation back. When he set his hand down in the air, the head of a vixen nuzzled into it, happy to even serve in such a simple capacity as their Master's hand-rest. Chloe watched him intently from a few seats down the long table and across, where she had ended up closer to the guest of honor than she ever had been, all thanks to her sister Anna taking ill and father not wanting a single seat at his banquet table empty.

"Your little slice of the north interests me very little, Lord Wintermane," Mearracar said frankly, his flat words somehow making it sound as even acknowledging a non-Exusian as a lord was something done for amusement alone, never respect. "Ivolgin is utterly landlocked. Your only warm-water port is still frozen over five months of the year and is near the headwaters of a river that doesn't connect to others until three provinces over, meaning it's useless for shipping anything that isn't originating within your borders. There's no modernized infrastructure to speak of outside of your homely capital - the roads are inconsistent enough that my retinue traveled her by zeppelin just to avoid a prolonged cart trip. And your political influence is so weak that the last two times the canine states convoked a council to determine general policy, you did not even attend." The unflaggingly confident Exusian did not even break eye contact with her father during the drumming-down, even when the fennec slave began to rest on her laurels instead of maintaining a straight back and his hand shot down to firmly pull her back to attention by the scruff of her neck. Chloe had felt a strange tingling herself, then, and suddenly his blunt assessment of her little kingdom as worthless went dull in her mind as she tried to place what that feeling was, ending up watching the slaves much more closely after that. What... must that be like, I wonder, having a man so powerful as master of your whole life?

"Please, Lord Mearracar," her father went on obsequiously, a gray wolf of almost fifty dressed in enough antique ostentation that one could scarce see his traditionalist waistcoat. "Much as this jewel on my finger makes the whole of me shine the greater for its diminutive size, so too would I want Ivolgin to be worn upon your own finger, small but precious and rounding out the whole. We may not have much in the way of agriculture, or manufacturing, but we are modernizing quickly, quicker than our neighbors, and in these modern times is it not prudent to hoard what resources one may, given that the next technological breakthrough could take something as singularly worthless as saltpeter or sulfur and produce something as world changing as black powder? Who is to say that some of our resources that currently have no practical use won't end up the most crucial component in the next train, the next battleship?" A red fox Ivolgine servant in humble clothing with nervous eyes dropped off the next dish of the extravagant multicourse meal, little bowls of deep-pink cold beet soup, all the while apprehensively eyeing the vixens at Lord Mearracar's side, who, as well trained as they were, ignored her. As she left the hall the mature-bodied servant-girl tugged at her collar reflexively, tail raising just a hint until she halted a fraction of a second and willed it back down.

"And in exchange for these hopes and dreams, Wintermane," the Exusian noble asked pointedly, "you would ask for... what, exactly?" Shortly following the cold soup, a worrisome-looking cold pork aspic wobbled to the table in the hands of a different servant, this one a male collie, and the red fox slave stood wordlessly to her feet to serve her master. Chloe tried not to gasp as she got her first good look at the vixen's front: the white wolf had been aware that both vixens were starkly nude but standing like this her round breasts were pushed out in front of her, jingling with the fine gold chain that linked them to glinting rings of the same gold pierced through her stiff pink nipples. The chain connected down her front in a triangular drape formed from two lower arcs of chain, then one large one, then a small one that looped around her waist and sat on her ample hips. In addition, a length of chain went from the waist down to... the teen wolf spent several long seconds puzzling at not just the first adult vulva she had ever seen but also the first pierced one, the chain tugging a heavier ring that pushed behind or possibly through her clitoris. Chloe studied the last in particular, having been hitherto unaware that that part of her held any special significance at all. As she cut out portions of gristly preserved meat jelly to serve her nonplussed master, the chain shook from her body movements and each time any of her piercings were gently tugged she let out a little muffled gasp. Chloe reached between her legs in sympathy pain, then away when she with shame realized the strange tingling sensation's source only once her hand was upon it and almost gasped aloud. That's... strange...

Lord Wintermane stammered, having just started to take a sip of his tiny glass of vodka when presented fully with the nude slave and was red-faced by the time he could speak again. Chloe's mother forced a smile that was a clear bellwether of trouble to come later that night, and across the table and down two seats from her, her one-year-older brother Arkady chuckled to himself and stole all the glances of the vixen that he liked, which was several. "W-w-well, your Lordship - there are, are certain financial considerations of our humble principality that leave us unable to progress f-further in modernizing ourselves and without such, gracious investment, there is a chance of ah..." He didn't finish speaking, and this time not because of the gorgeous slave girl, but because Chloe knew that it would kill the older wolf to admit that his province was badly in need of money, although she didn't understand all the complexities of it all, wasn not privy to them.

The slave girl turned to hand the commanding Lord Mearracar his little silver plate of pink wobbly aspic, and Chloe bit back a gasp audibly, too audibly, to spy a fine radiant-cut red gemstone set between the cheeks of the red fox's curvy buttocks and realized that rather than being clenched there it was attached to something that disappeared inside of her, something firmly and unquestionably inside the girl's ass. Would that even... what would that even feel like, I wonder... Several eyes shot her way at the noise, her mother's most threateningly, and Chloe wanted to sink into her red-and-gold dress and disappear, and in fact had begun to attempt as much as her father cleared his throat to draw attention back to the conversation. "Milord I- we, all of Ivolgin, will do anything we must to curry your favor, because without outside assistance- "

"You'll starve." Mearracar finished, pausing long enough for an audible gulp from the lupine noble. "And then either your neighbors will move in, sensing weakness, or your peasants will turn their sickles from the rye fields to your throats." He groped the red fox's ass as she went to kneel back down again and earned a thin desperate moan as she tried quite obviously (and failed quite obviously) to remain quiet. She continued to her place, but there was a look exchanged between master and slave that said he was incensed at her inability to keep silent and was already planning her punishment. Chloe tried not to make it too obvious that she was watching, idly picking at her aspic, only half-hearing the dire predictions of what might be their future.

"I-I-I mean, starvation? Preposterous! Why, we've still got our root vegetables, our pigs, our- "

"This? Your banquet? This is theater, Wintermane. You've chosen to entertain me lavishly, despite your... interesting cuisine. How many peasants would this have fed under a more prudent ruler?" Mearracar pushed back from the table slightly. "Or: your gold finery, the stones of this old keep. How many modern steam tractors would they have bought you, ten years ago when it would have been the right time to make such sacrifices? You are only modernizing more quickly than your neighbors because their coffers are robust, filled by natural resources or skilled labor your own province does not possess. For this chilly slice of Vusik you need to modernize at a rate you cannot afford, just to avoid becoming a failed state." Chloe heard Arkady snigger, self-satisfied, somehow enjoying the savage rebuke of his father by a wiser man who actuated real power, but all she felt from the conversation now was chills as the severity of the political matters were becoming apparent even to an untrained girl as far down the line of succession as she was. "The time to 'do anything' was years ago and six children ago, it is clear. Tell me, what does 'anything' look like for Gavril of House Wintermane at this late day?"

Her father looked as though speaking with the Exusian was draining all the vital fluids from his body, his frame sagging more and more as it became apparent that any hopes of this meeting with the Empire which he went to great pains to organize was a colossal waste of time and resources, that he had made a horrible misstep and that it was merely the latest misstep in a long series of them. "O-our relations with- and, and our absolute loyalty to the Empire, could- "

"Could what? The Principalities are less one bargaining body and closer to a hundred. None of them are influential enough to sway the whole, even with little alliances here and there, and if I were to approach the most influential alliance, it would not be one in which you are currently present." The lord adjusted his collar and drank down the anisette as if it were water, not even flinching at the bittersweet licorice-y liqueur. "And in service of what - handing your own people, your own species to your betters, to the Empire? King Jarok is content to deal with the borders of the empire where they are at, for now, and the council is in agreement (with a few noteworthy dissenters). But even if we had designs on expanding our borders into the Vusik Peninsula, I would not wish for here and now to be where I place my own mark on things, nor for the person I chose as my most vital ally in that undertaking to be you." The fennec dabbed his suit free of crumbs, showing off huge ears set each with several rings and with one large round hollow plug that let one see clear through them to behind her. It was obvious even through the muzzle that she was smiling, overjoyed to serve.

Gavril Wintermane looked to literally die of shame. Still, he made one last play. "Th-then! Anything I have, it's yours, merely ask! I'm not so proud I can't beg if it would stave off utter ruin...!" He spread his arms, robust body jingling with jewels that were decidedly not tractors or infrastructure. Then, with a certain caged-animal fright not befitting such a proud predator as a wolf, he looked to his wife, then across to the side of the tables where his daughter sat, pausing pointedly on Chloe. His youngest daughter sank into her chair until she was barely visible any longer. He looked at me like... like an object. Like something he could sell besides his jewels. If everything the Exusian noble says is true, are we- am I in grave danger?

The fox servant from before - Bleriana, that was her name, called Billi, she remembered - returned bearing a heavy rectangular chafing dish, that with a bit of wobbling beneath its weight she successfully conveyed to the banquet table despite nearly stepping on her hem. She had gotten significantly closer to Lord Mearracar than she had dared before to do so, and she squeaked abruptly and froze as he reached out with a long arm and grabbed her troublesome black dress from under her, lifting it to above the backs of her knees so her long uneven hem would remain out from beneath her feet. Like a shot her tail lifted straight up and pulled it even higher, exposing her bottom to the imposing nobleman. Even to a strange fox he's never met before he's this forward, persuasive? Do Exusians lack shame, or is it simply excusable because they see their superiority as natural order? "Such a shame to clothe them, like this. It only gets in their way, see? And foxes especially are meant to be shown off." He let the servant's dress go, and she quickly unlidded the chafing dish with a black paw and turned to pad off again, though this time lingering for a pregnant second or two making eye contact with Mearracar - and, Chloe swore, smelling him. Then she was off again, padding quicker this time, her tail ramrod straight and giving all present a full view of the vixen's knickers. She was... Billi was like putty in his hands. That lucky little... hm? Chloe a brief pang of jealousy that quickly became confusion when she recognized it.

Mearracar leaned in towards her father. "I made the journey here solely for personal reasons that had placed me nearby, by sheer coincidence, and I thought it might be an amusement to entertain your attempts to cajole me into an ally." He sighed, frightfully bored. "I am, however, afraid you have little to offer that I do not already have in great abundance, Lord Wintermane, much as was my initial assumption. If that should change, I will of course send Adora or Saoirse here to let one of your servants know I have need of you again."

"Th-then you're... leaving?"

"The table? Yes. Ivolgin? In the morning. Zeppelin flight by night is not my preference, and the sun is getting quite low. I've heard it does that, half of the year, as far north as we are."

"But! The, the shaslik..." Even Chloe's mother seemed to pity her husband at this point, no grim schadenfreude to be gleaned from watching a man so thoroughly lain low. The dish in question, marinated pork on skewers, sizzled where it sat, yet unserved and giving off a heady spiced meat aroma. "It's... the main course and there are three courses aft- Ah!" The robust wolf's hands had begun shaking some time ago, and he jumped in surprise as a heavy ring thunked off one finger onto the table loudly, all his finery seeming more than ever gaudy, performative, unearned, foolish. By the time he was recovering what he could of his dignity, Lord Mearracar had already stood up, and his vixens with him, apparently leaving in enough haste that he did not wish to spend the extra time it would take them to pad out of the room on hand and foot.

As soon as they were out of sight, Arkady sighed exaggeratedly and stood, walking around the table jauntily. Her older brother (her only living older brother, actually, the rest of the male heirs were her youngers) was a gray wolf like their father and her other siblings, lean in build but while not hardened from labor like a commoner neither was he soft in the middle like her father and deceased older brother Rodya. He had worn a checkered coat with a gaudy fur ruff to the banquet, the checkers an impish red and white to match his impish smile, knowing that while socially acceptable for the occasion his father would hate it. The family of wolves remained in stunned silence from the disastrous end of the meal and nudging food about their plates soberly, only Arkady up and animated, and when he reached the girl's side of the table, he leaned on the shoulder of their comely older sister Katherine for support as he launched into the kind of theatrics he was known for. "Dear sister Katya, it seems our goose is cooked!" he said melodramatically, using her familiar name and placing the back of his hand on his forehead. Having been holding in his laughter all night, however, it quickly burbled up and overflowed from him, becoming so forceful he leaned hard into Katherine's lanky frame and braced himself against the table.

"Please. Do not shame our father further, Arkady," his older sister weakly pleaded, looking like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

"Arkady Wintermane!" their father roared, his deflated form suddenly animated with his mercurial rage. The older man slammed the banquet table and startled Chloe's other present sibling, the younger boy Vanya, who was anemic and was, as ever, dozing off. "Your boyish rebel spirit may have been precocious when you were but a boy, but as a man it is impious and infuriating - I am your father and your lord! What is it that you find so very funny?" Gavril rose, seeing his wife's expression urge calm and promptly ignoring it. "What is it, pray, about having our creeping decay as a noble house and as an independent province being laid bare before our best chance at salvation that amuses you so? Do you simply enjoy my torment so much that the trampling of my pride as a wolf is jest to you?! You are not so old and wise as to judge my failings, boy, I remember when you were still pissing your bedclothes and you are still not so old that I cannot take you over my knee!"

Her brother's face went slack from full laughter, like any of his emotions were a put-on. He hissed as he exhaled, and when he smiled toothily the red birthmarks of their house at the corners of his mouth widened. "Because, dear father," he almost spat, "the noble Lord Mearracar has spent your entire tawdry meal reiterating to you everything I have been saying to you since I was twelve. Things that you pushed aside, saying I was just a boy, that everyone whose wisdom I heard and that you remained deaf to were fools, that your wise rule was not to be questioned by boys and politicians. Things that I gave up on convincing you of when it became clear that the wise rule of Ivolgin was far from your top priority." He paused for a breath, and to of course sneer directly at his apoplectic sire. Arkady pressed his attack, now almost shouting as he paced confrontationally behind their parent's chairs. "Much more your priority were fine meals, fancy clothes, sexual affairs and excess that we all pretended not to see, while we withdrew from the world stage purely out of sloth and gluttony! While each year, our people grew thinner, and the fields returned less and less, and the world passed us by!" The young man, his speech as gadfly to his seething father and Lord coming to a perfect dramatic close just as he'd surely scripted it ten times before today, sat in Mearracar's chair, the seat of honor, and put his feet on the table. "It just crept into my head, you see, the thought that as we all die ignoble dog's deaths and history remembers us too little to curse us, you will at the last feel the crushing weight of knowing your despised Arkady was right from the start, that at twelve I was more skillful at statecraft than you have ever been and now ever would be, as it all goes black. And, you must admit, mother, wolves of my blood, that there is some dark humor in that miserable fact."

Gavril stood up, fully pushing away from his overwrought chair and reaching for the dull ceremonial dagger in his belt. "I've heard enough of your sinister theatrics and black contempt to sate me a hundred lifetimes, cur I will not deign to name! I gave you life, and I will gladly take it from you, you churlish-! "His wife placed a hand on his wrist, a serene denial in her expression like an acceptance of loss, and Lord Wintermane halted in place, took a deep breath, and sat back down, sulking, his mad energy fading. "Go. All of you! I regret that I have nothing to give you but dust and ashes, but I regret just as deeply that of all my children, my three sons are between them sick, dead, and a heartless devil. I tire of seeing all of you." He snapped at Vanya, who had begun reaching for a skewer of shaslik. "Go!"

It wasn't the first time that Chloe had seen her father this volatile, but this felt more foreboding than his and Arkady's usual venomous exchanges - she felt she finally understood the word "doom" properly, if this feeling was indeed that. She dutifully pushed away from the table as the servants were coming out with the next course and were promptly waved away, puzzled looks on their faces, and Chloe wryly thought that the ones who cleared the table tonight would eat particularly well.

Night had fallen. Of course, night fell around dinner time this time of year, but it had been dark for what she assumed was two hours, maybe three and the moon was over halfway to its peak in the firmament. Chloe had frittered away her time playing cards with Vanya (who was only eight and needed lots of hugs after such a worrying night) and then gone to visit Anna in her sickbed. It had been hard to tell over the conical mask everyone who entered his room had to wear for fear of catching whatever was ravaging his lungs, but she felt like he might be looking better and that maybe the illness wouldn't come back this time. She hoped so, at least. Now, though, she was alone with her thoughts, and her mood was sour to say the least. "Where does Arkady get off, kicking father when he's down like that," she said quietly, thinking aloud. "Even if he's right, and. I mean I hope that he isn't, or else. Shouldn't we be running? Pawning our jewels for passage somewhere that the starving common-folk won't rightfully blame us?" She wondered if they'd hate every Wintermane, even though certainly none of the children had had effect on the lives of the people in any meaningful way. "They wouldn't just murder us out of spite... would they?" There had been more incidents in town lately, more dissenters to be made example of, and she thought grimly that it fit in well with the narrative of unrest spiraling out of father's control.

Trying to distract herself, she tried to think of more pleasant things and instead ended up thinking about the Exusian, Lord Mearracar, and his two vixen slaves (Adora and Saoirse? She wasn't sure which was which, exactly.) The dinner earlier certainly wasn't the first time she had felt what she had put together was arousal (at least from the gossip of the coarser servants), and she vaguely remembered times she had rubbed her burning-hot folds against the rounded edge of a bedknob until her legs went funny and she had to lie down till it passed. But those had largely been at random, or triggered by very conventional stimuli, like seeing one of the particularly well-muscled stable boys without his shirt on, which she was assured was normal.

But Mearracar had been completely clothed and had set her loins ablaze! Was it his voice? It was a deep and handsome one. His intimidating size? Maybe. It certainly felt like he could sweep her off her feet and take her away, though for what purpose she had incomplete information. Put his penis inside her? That was what she had heard from a garrulous kitchen servant, once, as her entire sexual education. "The man puts his thing inside your womanly place, and after he finishes you get pregnant and have a baby". What did "finish" even mean in that context?! She had long pondered that question. Today had been an utter wealth of new sexual information to attempt to contextualize, but more than anything on her mind was the conflicting notions of "these girls are slaves and have no freedom, are subject to degradation and pain and whatever sort of twisted things a master like that would do to them" and how much she wanted to find out more, about how they lived and felt and what on earth was in this for them. Why they looked so...

...happy.

She decided, after at minimum thirty minutes staring at the stone ceiling from beneath her heavy sable-fur blanket, that she was not going to be able to sleep without at least attempting to seek some answers, and threw off the blanket with resignation, slipped into a baggy nightgown that still hung attractively on her nubile curves, and lit a candle to light her way. Ivolgin Keep was, after all, as behind the times as the rest of Ivolgin, and the bulbs and tubes of light the inside of the Exusian's ship obviously bore were nowhere to be found. Chloe slipped into some padded fur-lined house shoes, and crept through the hallway toward Lord Mearracar's room, keeping her lantern lidded and using as little of its light as she could stand. I mean, I'm certain he'll be asleep. What would I even ask him if I got to speak to him alone? Still, some part of her was yearning to know more, any small tidbit, about the glimpses she'd seen of the world outside of bleak Ivolgin.

Chloe ran across no one in her journey, no servants in the wing her room was in this late since it was assumed she had already bathed and didn't need coddling the way some of her younger girls might. The closer she got to the guest's bedchambers (the one extravagant suite they maintained in case they coaxed out a prestigious visitor such as this one), the more she heard a strange voice crying out, a woman's voice, in bursts and not necessarily in words. She tilted her ears towards it, as it bounced strangely off the old stone walls and distorted, making it hard to tell if the owner of the voice was in pain or enjoying herself. She rounded another corner, and suddenly there was light, and for purposes of staying hidden she closed the little gate in her lantern that snuffed the flame out. The voice had become crystal clear, as well, and as her eyes adjusted to the streaming light, she could make out a few things: she had nearly stumbled right into Lord Mearracar's chamber, and the voice was the red fox slave she had seen at the table. The Exusian towered over her, head nearly touching the high ceiling, naked and commanding and-

OH. Oh.... oh oh oh...

Mearracar stood in his full glory, massive and powerfully muscled for what she had assumed was a man her father's age. But this was no man: this must have been the moon god Alpha incarnate, only missing the moon in his eyes and stars in his mane. His brushy tail hung still behind him, and his wickedly angled ears were fixed almost straight up. He's... amazing... Between his thighs hung the first adult penis she had ever seen, and it would subsequently ruin her expectations of every non-Exusian cock she would see from then onward, because while proportional with the rest of him (if still large even then, hanging almost to his knee) it was almost as big around as her leg, engorged and at attention. THAT'S supposed to fit inside of a person?! she thought, stifling a gasp. How?! Before him, the red fox dangled at his mercy, a rope fixed round her wrists and binding them together over her head as far as she could reach upward. A blindfold was tied over her eyes, and from the looks of it unless she stood on her tiptoes the rope would pull painfully on her wrists. Chloe, knowing her childhood home back and forth, ducked into a little alcove where servants would set trays or whatnot the room might need that was currently empty, and, considering herself the picture of stealth, stared unhindered at both the slave and her impressive master.

"Saoirse, I didn't hear a number that time," he growled sensually into her ear, "I told you to count every stroke, not simply to cry out as Master beats discipline into your cheeks. We'll be starting again from zero, and you'll be getting the weights now as well."

Her lips quivered. From here Chloe could more clearly guess her age was closer to Katherine's, somewhere in her mid-twenties, still plenty of youthful tightness to her curves if past normal marrying age. "B-but we were already on nineteen! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry master I'll- "

"You'll learn one of these days that the answer to my commands is never to grovel and plead for lighter treatment, the answer is 'yes, master'," he threatened sibilantly. "You were wild for some time there, and you have so many more instincts to train out than Adora. But your master is gracious and will ensure you learn." The awe-inspiring Exusian noble set down something Chloe couldn't make out.

"Th-thank you master!" she cried out. "I'm so grateful that you'd have pity even on such a useless vixen like this one!" Chloe could see in the firelight that despite what seemed like scandalous torture, moisture beaded on Saoirse's dewy flower, even some droplets glittering in the fur of her upper thigh, the same sort of moisture the young wolf found herself producing when she felt sexual want. She's... enjoying herself? Maybe not fully but. How can that even be?

Mearracar pulled something from a kit lying on the bed, which turned out to be little steel weights, cute and reminding her a bit of fishing weights. But the purpose of these was certainly not so mundane as carrying a hook deeper underwater and keep the lure from floating. Instead, it became abundantly clear as he hooked the clasp of one into the gold ring of one nipple, and the fox cried out in pain, the whole apparatus of her piercings sagging under what couldn't be more than a few ounces of weight and tugging viciously at her delicate nipples. For a moment she faltered and dropped off of her tiptoes, and the unbearable weight against her nipples was replaced with rope digging into her wrists, until Mearracar spanked her hard enough the impact echoed, pitching her forward with the impact and pulling at both wrists and piercings. "On your toes. No slouching." Her breaths were rapid as she wobbled back into position, and she was almost relieved when he attached one to the other nipple, at least balancing the weight.

Chloe found her paw inside of her knickers, slick fluids upon it, without her having sent it there. In testing how much of her underclothes she had soaked through, she brushed the other spot Saoirse was pierced: the little nub near the crest of her pretty pussy that for Chloe was usually hidden in pink flesh. The sensation was electric and seeing the red fox's pink nub exposed as it was and being jerked about by her jewelry, Chloe curiously explored herself to try to understand what it might feel like, why it had been singled out along with her teats for pleasure slash torment. Once her semi-rigid nub was free, she brushed it again and- "Ahn!" The albino wolf cupped her mouth, feeling like she might die of shame if Lord Mearracar found her here like this, spying on his private discipline administration. But she realized, gratefully, that she must not have been heard, as when her short yelping moan finished a strained one from Saoirse was still trilling. As the bound vixen wriggled in place, Chloe saw that a third and final weight had been placed on her clit piercing, and the vixen was in obvious pain but also hot with arousal, to the point where Chloe almost thought she could smell her from where she was hidden.

The Exusian noble admired his handiwork, the dangling vixen now weighted down at her most sensitive places. "And you know what you did wrong, pet?"

"I-I made noise at the dinner table when I was ordered not to! I, I couldn't help it I-"

"And you know what the punishment is," he said matter of factly, narrowing his eyes.

"Tw-twenty strikes," the vixen said defeatedly.

"Very good." Lord Mearracar nipped at her neck, above where her silver collar sat, and despite her obvious discomfort, Saoirse moaned. The object he had laid down reappeared, and Chloe winced to see it revealed: a broad wooden paddle with holes augured through it, just the right size for swatting a grown woman's bottom. Distantly she remembered being paddled as a child and tried to remember what it felt like, and could not, due in no small part to her fingers now working overtime between her legs and madly teasing the part of herself she had at least discovered. Somewhere along the way the petite exotic fox with the over-decorated ears had seemed to materialize in the room, now without her muzzle, and gave her Master's powerful thigh a cute nuzzle. "Be sure to count," Mearracar said to Saoirse with a smirk, ignoring the fennec save for acknowledging her with a single pat, "Your body won't take another twenty if you fail this time, and I will be burdened in thinking of a more lasting punishment for a vixen who cannot accept normal discipline."

"I'll be good, master, I'm, I'm strong enough! Thank you! I won't fail you!"

"You will not." He reared back and swatted her hard, the paddle moving at such speed air whistled through the holes before it struck the vixen's ass with an almost-cartoonishly-loud smack, and through the sense-rattling sting Chloe heard her distinctly cry out:

"ONE!"

Chloe worked at her unspoiled cunny with little desperate moans, for as much as she tried to stopper them, she could only succeed in quieting them. There were random pauses between each strike at the pinkened exposed cheeks of the struggling Saoirse, but the wolf found that if she timed it right, she could let out a proper moan when the strike hit and have the voice of her own pleasure be subsumed in the vixen's forceful counting. Saoirse's voice was both ragged with tears and burning with arousal at once, and her tail stood straight up as her strict punishment was meted out. Her eyes by now seemed glazed, and her thighs quivered partway from the effort of remaining up on her toes and partly from somehow relishing her Exusian Master's abuses. At least it looked like abuse to Chloe, whose only experience with physical punishment was being spanked on very rare occasion, and occasionally seeing someone thrash a servant with a belt for being derelict in their duties. But then... if what Mearracar did was just abuse, why did it feel like the slave was still enjoying herself, like he cared deeply for her in some way Chloe couldn't give a name to? Why did it feel right?

"You're curious about her aren't you."

Chloe clasped her hands tight over her mouth as she lost balance the way she was sitting and scrabbled deeper into the alcove. The shriek of surprise came between strokes, and she waited long seconds in terror wondering if her paws had caught enough of it or if a powerful Exusian twice her height would be on her in seconds, already fully equipped for punishing her. She only started breathing again when the next strike rang out, and her swimming vision focused on the intruder that had nearly given her away: the fennec slave. Adora, by process of elimination.

"Sorry! I am very quiet, yes! Master sometimes gives me little bells for my jewelry, so I do not startle people!" The girl spoke with a slight accent and a few grammar quirks that gave away that this was not her first language, adding to her slightly foreign mystique. Chloe hadn't gotten much of a look at her at the banquet table, not nearly so much as she had of Saoirse (then or since), but up close she must have been some other breed of fox entirely. She was six, no, eight inches shorter than Saoirse (already that much shorter than Chloe, herself, who was not even a particularly tall wolf) and her muzzle was shorter, her nose cuter. The biggest giveaway of her exotic origins were of course her ears, which were each the size of the rest of her head, scoop-shaped and slightly pink on the inside while the rest of her fur was a very pale sandy brown. Her jewelry at the moment was much more subtle, the only piercings two fist-sized gold plugs (one in each ear) through which Chloe could see the hallway behind her. She wore a less-elaborate gold chain that wasn't attached to any piercings and was more petite in build than her fellow slave, and she crept on broad paws that probably only added to her startlingly quiet movements.

Abruptly Chloe realized that the exotic fox was practically naked, and as well as that something of a close talker, and she stiffened a little. I've never been this close to a naked girl... not in an adult sense at least, only when helping bathe my littlest sisters. She smells... very sweet, actually... "Shhh! Are you mad, I'm trying not to get caught, I'm not supposed to be here!' she rasped. Not far away, Saoirse counted the seventh strike.

Adora looked at her quizzically, then shrugged. "You will be fine! Master enjoys his discipline and will be focused on naughty Saoirse until she is properly tamed." The fennec grinned, her smile wide and genuine and showing off delicate little canines.

"And all of this is for... not being able to hold her tongue at the table, even when he was the one who made her cry out?"

"Mm, mm. Master's orders are very strict, and he ordered silence, after all. Sometimes, this one thinks Saoirse likes the discipline more than herself and gets in trouble on purpose though," the fennec said conspiratorially, and giggled soundlessly into her paws.

"How could," Chloe almost raised her voice out of her whisper, "how could anyone enjoy all that pain and discomfort and, and teasing and...degradation..." She trailed off, watching the strange smile on Saoirse's lips that kept creeping in between her cries and sobs.

Adora shrugged her shoulders dismissively, as if she'd been asked a very obvious question. "Pleasure and pain are two side of the one coin, yes, and sometimes sex and pleasure can get all tied up in things like that. If a person lets themselves open to it, it can be..." she trailed off a moment, closing her eyes, smiling, and shivering pleasantly, lost in some reverie. "It's the way of we lesser races, yes! The Exusians were made to rule us, made in the image of great Alpha the moon-and-stars, and others like this humble fennec or sister Saoirse (or even you, snowfur!) have the instinct to know our betters. It is joy to not have to, to make this one's scatterbrain spend all day doing things like making decisions or pretending to be strong and capable of anything like her master is. Acting on instinct and being Master's beloved pet is so much simpler, and when I feel bad things, I feel good because they are from him, and when I feel good things, I feel good as well of course! Mm, I am grateful every day that I have this chance! Am I talking sense? Sometimes I talk and talk and keep talking, but master is trying to break me of it, yes, this is the first time that I have been unmuzzled for this long in months!"

The fennec's rambling justifications seemed to be utter nonsense, to Chloe, but to her bafflement at least half of it almost made sense. But all of this about servitude? I may be far enough from succession that I will never rule but I have been an adult almost a year now, and I have learned to do much for myself! ...even if servants still take care of much for me, but that's their lot in-. She caught the cognitive dissonance as she thought it. ...huh. She had to admit, as well, that the character of domination she had grown up with among servants, and that which the Exusian noble exerted on all around him but especially his slaves, were of entirely different classes. Maybe our servants... have it worse, in their way? Even with the little freedom they have. To me the Masters and slaves of the Empire seem lascivious, sex-crazed even, but what if we're simply the prudish ones, not letting ourselves experience the full gamut of pleasurable feelings out of some misplaced independence and dignity? Giving our servants what looks like freedom on the surface but is in so many other cases slavery with extra steps?

Adora blinked a few times as another number rang out of Saoirse. "But why is this one explaining all of this to you, snowfur asks? My ears are very sensitive, but my nose more so, and when I padded past here returning from fetching this-and-that I smelled a lovely girl in the corridor, much younger than the redfur I well knew, yes, and the smell of sex off of her, no less! And, mm, I maaay also have heard you enjoying yourself at Saoirse's punishment as much as Master or Saoirse, heehee..."

The albino wolf stammered and held her shift down hard so there was no chance of the exotic vixen seeing her shame and went hard into denial. "Th-th-that's, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Mm, my nose does not lie, snowfur, nor do these ears" She shook her head, and her oversized ears nearly thwapped Chloe in the face she was so close. Then, lowering herself a bit she pushed in closer, trapping the lupine eavesdropper in the corner. "They could even hear the lovely little wet sounds of snowfur's pretty flower as she played with it, and this close your maiden-scent is strong and sweet..."

Chloe blushed deep red. Denial wasn't going to get her anywhere. "...fine. Perhaps I, I was. Let's say that. That doesn't mean anything, certainly not that I want... that," she protested, a little weakly, and tilted her head to indicate the sexual discipline still very much in progress, a little weakly. Adora rested her paws on the wolf's knees, listening and making unflinching eye contact and grinning conspiratorially. "I-it's just my coming of age, that's all, there's a. There's a certain age I suppose where a, a young girl discovers her body and-"

Adora gasped so loud Chloe winced. "Discover, she says?! This is snowfur's first?!"

The Wintermane girl squeezed her eyes shut in hot shame and forced herself to respond, "...yes..." She wanted to cringe so hard out of embarrassment that she folded in upon herself and blinked out of existence.

The fennec's eyes sparkled, her smile beaming. "So innocent, this girl! Already nineteen and never having explored herself, never let herself feel release? Oh, this one is so proud to be able to offer her assistance, she loves blushing virgins soooo much!"

"A-assistance? Hey what do- mmph?!" Chloe, for the second time in the last few minutes, shrieked, but instead of her paws muffling it this time it was the cause of her surprise: Adora's lips on hers, pushing into her, wet and luscious. M-my first kiss... she thought distantly, as unlike the chaste kisses she had seen between married adults in public places the fennec's continued, and as soon as Chloe relaxed even a smidgen, she found her mouth opening into the other girl's. Adora moaned softly as Chloe let her in, and deftly sent her tongue to tease out the taller girl's, coaxing it into action and then giving it no quarter. The intimate press of the slave girl's lips into her own coupled with the invasive yet utterly delightful sensation of Adora's tongue teasing her maw, filling her mouth with the taste of sweet passionate womanhood in the flavor that was hers and hers alone, was more than pleasant enough for Chloe's guard to drop almost entirely, still trying to keep quiet but relaxing her tight-wound body, craving more of what Adora had to show her.

She almost whined when Adora broke the kiss. "Your lips taste lovely, snowfur. Am I your first, not simply your first girl? Ohh what an honor, yes!" She smiled broadly. "People can be so uptight in your cold homeland - I wonder if you even knew that girls could please each other like men could?" Chloe shook her head no, dazed and panting softly. The petite fox's hands on Chloe's knees spread, and with the wolf practically drunk on being led by her experienced partner she offered no resistance as Adora spread her soft thighs apart, or even as she hiked up the wolf's shift to just below her bust. Someone else being in control of her like this, even someone so soft and gentle, made her feel that fluttery feeling again, the one she felt when Mearracar spoke.

Chloe felt hot, her skin flush everywhere, and to cool herself she removed the rest of the shift and let herself be naked as only felt natural before her unexpected lover, stiff pink nipples peeking out from the white fur of her perky C-cups. She realized she had unconsciously covered her last most intimate spot with her hands once the shift was off, and with some trepidation moved them, showing her damp pink pussy to another person for the first time. "Sh-show me... please..." the wolf moaned, that desperation she had only earlier identified as arousal now overwhelming her, drowning her, all towards some end goal she could only guess at. However it was that this process usually concluded, she knew the fennec would show her, and she was by now far too dizzily horny to care a whit whether the first to do so was a beautiful girl.

The slave-vixen smiled warmly, herself flush in the presence of a nubile and for-her-exotic lupine teenager, and drew in close to drink in the sight of the sopping snatch that begged for her skilled touch. "You're shapely, here, mm... all pink and dripping for me already, smelling luscious..." For that matter, there was something in Adora's scent that was growing stronger as well, and that fed Chloe's arousal as well as made her salivate somewhat. Lewdly, she realized that aside from any perfumes or clean sweat, that much as Adora could smell Chloe's arousal, Chloe could now smell hers. Did... did I do that? She's flush and aroused and wet the same as I am - because of me? Because of my body, or my smell, or anything I've done? It felt like being told she was beautiful, but on a more primal level, sincere as it could be and with no option to embellish - Adora's body was honest, and she wanted Chloe as much as Chloe was surprised to find she wanted her back. "Still your cries, lovely snowfur, this one thinks you will very much enjoy her talented tongue here even more than dancing with your own." "Here"? She doesn't mean... oh wow... The intensity of gently rubbing her clit in a vague imitation of what Saoirse's piercing jewelry might feel like, with Chloe fumbling around her bits looking for buttons to press, had not prepared her one bit for someone who knew what they were doing, and as she first felt Adora's cute tongue against one of her nether-lips she wanted to scream her name, louder than Saoirse had just counted sixteen, not giving a damn who heard.

Distantly Chloe registered that sixteen was drawing awfully close to twenty strikes, even with the seemingly random delays likely meant to frustrate and tease the dangling red fox for her master's amusement, and that in all seriousness it was time to bolt, all the way back to her room, and into bed so the imposing Mearracar had no idea of her voyeurism. But one lick from the fennec's tongue became a flurry of new sensations, each one incredible, and nothing mattered more than that any longer. The tentative lick became a veritable tongue bath, gently lapping the dew from her folds and occasionally even darting her tongue inside to drink Chloe's nectar more directly. The soft lips that had tasted the wolf's own now showered her other pair of lips with affection, pressing here and there, sometimes even gently nibbling. Adora's fingers joined in, at some point, and made sure that she always had the best access to her snowfur's dripping snatch, and as she kept up eating the albino wolf girl out those same fingers gravitated to the spot that had been such a revelation for Chloe earlier: her cute rigid clitoris.

The first touch upon it was even more electric than Chloe's own touch had been, and she lost control of a loud moan that burst from her just in time to be drowned out by a lusty "Seventeen!". It was a bit like tickling oneself, she thought - she could still get pleasure out of her own clit on her own but add in a partner and the sensation was all-consuming. The pink lightning of delight that coursed through her veins seemed to collect there, a nexus of sexual energy, and as Adora went from brushing it with a finger to running her tongue along it, Chloe felt like she was going to lose control of herself, have a thrashing seizure like poor Vanya often had. "So close already, snowfur? Mm, I am not surprised, with you pent up like this - your first orgasm is long, long overdue, and this one cannot wait to watch you feel it. You taste like spiced honey on my lips, yes - my muzzle fur will smell of you for hours, I hope," Adora teased, which Chloe supposed was a compliment. "I will be sure not to break your maidenhead, but poor snowfur does not know how empty she is, yes! Pretty puppy, this lovely wet slit between your legs is meant to be filled, you know that much do you not?"

Chloe heard a yelped nineteen right as she was penetrated for the first time, two of the petite slave's fingers plunging into her. The wolf girl had had to touch herself before, of course, but only ever in cold clinical ways (like when she was on her moon-blood and needed to staunch herself with a damp cloth) and had never had anything pushed inside when she was so phenomenally wet, let alone had anyone do it for her. The difference was like night and day. Adora's fingers slid against her effortlessly and pressed on her walls, and Chloe felt muscles she was barely aware of squeeze down, not wanting them to withdraw. Withdraw they did, however, only to push back in again a little deeper, stroking her velvet-soft passage the entire way back. It felt amazing - no, it felt right, as though after all these years she was finally using her womanhood the way it was meant to be used, and she quivered helplessly for her generous lover. "See, see how your slick hole squeezes my fingers? You were born for this, snowfur. Naturally sensitive, beautiful as the full moon, innocent and worldly at the same time - you would make someone a very happy master, yes!" Chloe barely heard the words but blushed anyway. "Silly girl. Adora will let you finish, so you can think again. One day you will return the favor, she is sure of it!"

Adora pressed her lips down on Chloe's button once again, but this time softly suckled it in short bursts, never so long the intensity felt like something to squirm away from, and pumped her fingers deep and then out again, which as they became completely soaked in the passionate virgin's juices squelched audibly. Chloe was unsure the last time she heard a number. It didn't matter. Something was coming, building deep inside of her, and it didn't matter if she was a little scared of what was happening to her body, what mattered was the seizing pleasure building hot between her legs and radiating dully to her limbs and that it had to break eventually. And at last, after nearly making it out of her teenage years without even so much as masturbating, Chloe's first real orgasm hit. It rocked through her in waves, made her hips buck against the fennec who practically danced with her, always somehow still with her tongue and lips upon her and her fingers inside her, no matter what angle. Chloe thought she might do anything for this feeling again - it was drugs, religion, everything. Her attempts at quiet had already become quite futile, and when it hit, she cried out, not an affirmation or an exultation or even Adora's name but just a howl of lust from somewhere deep, a girl awakened at last.

When the fennec withdrew, Chloe collapsed where she had been sat halfway up, and the short girl was over top of her, pressing her warm body against her and intermingling the two girls' sweat, the hot kiss of Adora's own arousal clear as day across one of the wolf's thighs. "You were gorgeous, snowfur. This will be first of many for you, this one hopes, mmm." Adora kissed her again, not as long or as breath-taking as before, but bearing a new flavor, a subtle pheromone-laden tang. The panting wolf shivered as she realized the flavor was her own lusty juices still on the fennec's lips.

Chloe panted as weaker waves of shivering pleasure rolled through her and held Adora close as she recovered her sanity, the world coming back to her clear and harsh. That was... oh god, I never knew... I couldn't have known! I- She abruptly began to think more soberly, about what situation she was in before Adora made her head feel so fuzzy. Weren't you hiding, stupid girl?! The, the dignitary, Mearracar, his disciplined slave, did he, did she make it to twenty? You've been heard. There's no way they didn't hear. Y-you have to go! She struggled to stand but Adora wouldn't budge, lazily nuzzling her, cheek to cheek. "No need to worry, snowfur. He knows we two are here, there is no needing of haste, mm..."

The albino wolf's blood turned to ice. "H-how?!"

The fennec looked confused. "I told you did I not? This one padded back to her Master's room and smelled you along the way. I told him he had an audience, hm hm!"

The half light in the corridor, entirely streaming from out of Mearracar's, began to darken, eclipsed now by something, someone in the doorway who had to duck slightly to exit through it. Chloe thought for a foolish moment of panic that if she squeezed her eyes tight, he would go away or somehow not see her, like a malign spirit. But despite her efforts to banish Lord Mearracar before he saw her nakedness and shame, two heavy footfalls brought him to the entangled girls, and his sonorous voice filled her ears, even more irresistible when it was directed purposefully at her. "It appears that you have enjoyed yourself more than I could have anticipated, Wintermane girl. I thought you more a curious observer here to gawk at foreign customs, but I now see I had mischaracterized your interests. I am pleased, in this occasion, to have been proven wrong." He was framed in shadow from the lamplight, but as Chloe's eyes adjusted, she could clearly see his yellow eyes in the half-dark, and his predatory fangs. "Adora."

"Y-yes Master!" the fennec responded, sitting straight up at once on her thighs but still straddling Chloe looking guilty.

"I told you to keep her company and explain things if she asked. Did any part of my orders sound like permission for you to sample the girl yourself?"

"N-no, my Master," she admitted, ears drooping.

"And if I did not permit something, then it is...?"

Adora swallowed hard. "Forbidden..."

"Correct. I am thankful you can at least answer correctly, even if your actions give away how much work we yet have to do. Leave us. Tend to what of Saoirse's sore spots that I have not. "The fennec stood on shaky feet, no punishment promised yet but already seeming quite certain it hung over her, and padded near-silently back in the bedchamber, where Chloe could almost make out Saoirse, laying on her side. "Here. Stand." Mearracar knelt to lend her a hand up, and she was half relieved, half disappointed to realize he had donned a black robe since she had last seen him. His words were commands, even though he was doing her a simple kindness, and she thanked him reflexively as he helped pull her to her feet. Standing here, this close to him at his full height, she realized with a flutter that she came to barely a foot above his belt, and that Mearracar's vixens were even shorter. The act of helping Chloe stand had felt almost gentlemanly, but it began to feel more self-serving as she stood, as though if she served his needs better by standing and that if she would do so better lying disheveled in the alcove then that was where he would leave her. The Exusian also made zero attempt to let her clothe herself, nor to avert his eyes politely, looking down his broad chest at her and appraising her body like he knew he had claim to it. "Adora is disobedient, but her eye for the female form is keen. You are beautiful, girl."

Chloe hid her blush in her paws, knees unsteady as her body instinctively tried to hide itself and her mind for whatever its reason fought back to proudly display her. "Th-th-thank you... your lordship, sir," she stammered.

He arched an eyebrow. "'Sir', the girl says, and it rings much truer than the formality of 'lordship'," he mused. "You've sensed something about my harem pets, about me, haven't you? Explain it to me. I want to hear what you've understood."

Her tail fluffed up, always poofy but especially in response to things like girlhood crushes or, well, to what Adora had done. Chloe thought for long hard seconds about what she was being asked (even if it wasn't a question), what his aim was, what answer would deliver her from the situation best, and she decided on candor despite her reservations. "You... you and your slaves are... the first Exusian and the first real slaves I've ever met." She took a deep breath to steady herself, still a lady of Wintermane despite her nakedness before the superior creature. "I have grown up attended by servants, so I am no stranger to the sight of servility. But. The servants of Ivolgin, of all the Principalities of Vusik, are... well, they're just commonfolk. They're treated as such, outside of belonging to a house by contract. They have nearly as many rights as any washerwoman or miller, but their lot is. Sad, somehow. Something to be cursed. Their owners are as various as the people of this province themselves are, but in general those who own them treat them like... employees, maybe of low rank and without many of the comforts one might expect as hired help, but employees nonetheless."

She heard Saoirse hiss in pain in the other room as Adora gently applied a salve to her stinging rear. Chloe was barely distracted and kept going. "But. You are... not like the masters of servants I know. You don't "tell people to do things", you command things to be done, as if there should be no question of whether to obey. Your vixens - slaves," she corrected herself, "are not employees. They wear collars of silver and little else but that enhances their nakedness, and they serve you unquestioningly. They are set far apart from commonfolk or servants, and yet they wear fine jewels." Chloe tried not to think of the red gem between Saoirse's cheeks at the dinner table. "They do not choose who they love, who they have s-sex with," she stammered, then cursed her own stammering internally, "they are as much if not more so than our servants your chattel. When my father disciplines a servant, it is with a belt to their clothed back or rump, and always cruel, always with the servant simpering below him promising they will not fail again. But. When you discipline yours, the torments are elaborate, sexual, prolonged. (Well, at least if I'm. Assuming this is standard, ahem!)" Chloe fought through her red cheeks and pushed her fists out to her sides, standing as confident as she could muster with her feet apart. "I... may be inexperienced in the realms of, of sex, and that may be plainly obvious, fine. And from my... acts... with miss Adora I, think I understand why it can be rewarding or worthwhile, on one's own terms. But your foxes, they do not choose their own terms, do they? You are in control of their sex lives as much as the rest of their lives, all of it orbits around their Master. Their punishment and rewards are both somehow sex, even though I fail to understand what was sexual about," she nodded towards Saoirse, now having cream rubbed into her sore piercing-less nipples, "the older fox's punishment."

"And? You've said much and understand more than many would at a glance, but there is a question that you are afraid to ask me."

The Wintermane girl gulped. He sees through me so easily. "...Alright, I will be blunt then, if you will pardon my forwardness." She closed her eyes to center herself, then opened them and met his, high above. "Why do they look so much happier?"

A tiny smile crept onto Mearracar's lips. "Happier than Ivolgine servants?"

Chloe paled. "Happier than... me."

The Exusian took in a deep breath, and she almost worried for a moment he was going to shout at her, started to make herself smaller, but what came out was uproarious laughter, incongruous and disconcerting coming out of such a stoic man but very genuine, even if she was uncertain who the joke was on. Thankfully, he did not laugh for long, and his face slid back into its usual mask of authority, although now that hint of a grin was bordering on just being an actual grin. "Snow-furred wolf, I have not been amused like that in a great while. I would almost say that my stopover in this bleak place has been made worthwhile. When Adora told me that the girl from the banquet who could not keep her eyes off of us was watching from the hallway and touching herself, I expected an amusing distraction, but I could not have expected a second member of this household seeking me out tonight to satisfy some intense fascination with, and incredible innate affinity for, servitude."

Second? Who...? She thought of who else was as preoccupied with the Exusian as she. Billi? "...what do you mean, affinity for servitude?" she asked after some consideration.

"You are drawn to serving a superior master, you have simply never met one before today," he explained, as if it was a fact and not simply overwhelming self-confidence. "Seeing these girls punished, ordered around, repulses you but fascinates you. Your inner nature is at great odds with your nurture, raised to be all of these things: independent (as much as any woman in your patriarchal part of the world can be), a noble lady, chaste, incurious. But since you first saw my vixens pad in before me, something inside you wondered if you were actually all of these things, any of them, or merely pretending at them out of duty or social contract."

"That's... not..."

"Is it not?" he asked, and startled her as he squatted, the only way he could look her straight in the eye. "Then I have misjudged, and you may gather your things and return to your room."

"Wa-wait!" Chloe cried, and then wondered why on earth she had said that.

"I will make you a proposition, Chloe of House Wintermane," he said, eyes the yellow of the moon when it was a honey-moon. "If you are nothing that I've described you as, and you wish nothing else to do with I or my pets, you will decline and return to your room, and neither of us nor my pets shall speak a word of any of this encounter to anyone. But if you are, in any part at all, the girl I have painted a picture of for you, allow me to offer you a demonstration."

Instinctively, she covered herself again and looked away. "O-o-of what?"

Mearracar closed his eyes for a second and spoke the simple word, "Discipline."

Chloe felt like she might pass out. Discipline like Saoirse in there? I can't believe you're considering this! Why on earth would you volunteer for... for that? On the huge bed, Saoirse was already smiling serenely again while Adora rubbed scented oils into her fur, smiling just as happily. They're brainwashed or something, end of explanation. They can't have chosen to feel this way, can't find that much joy in- She peeked out of her closed eyelids and met Mearracar's eyes, which had not moved a muscle and were still fixed on her. -in serving a worthy master... The thought made her tingle again, as though whatever energy Adora had helped bleed off was already building once more, which Chloe realized with a sinking resignation was her responding to all of this, sexually, primally, despite all the masks of civility and polite society she wore to hide it. "...and if I stay?"

"The same as before. No one will hear of this unless you choose to tell them. Your virginity will remain intact. You will give yourself over to my orders for one hour. And whatever conclusion you take from it, you take with you after, and in the morning my zeppelin departs back for the foot of the Pale Peaks. I doubt I will ever return to this place."

Just... no strings attached, just like that? To get to have his way with a foolish young noblewoman? To, I don't know, prove a point? And I would get to- She caught herself thinking in terms of what she would "get to do", and only then realized her decision was made long before he asked. "I have your word?"

He smiled, seeming amused to broker with a lesser being that he wasn't forced to. "You have it."

"...I accept."

Chloe was sat next to Mearracar on the edge of the enormous bed, the one her father had had custom-brought to hold an Exusian and as many slaves as he chose to dally with at once. She could see now in the light that the chest of his robe was open, exposing his toned musculature, but while she remained quite nude, he seemed to make no move to remove his robe, which when she thought about the massive phallus contained therein, she was a bit grateful for. He had made no move since they sat down, letting her just look around, letting the vixens kneel at their feet ready for any use he had for them. She nearly jumped when his enormous paw stroked her hair, then practically melted at the unexpected tender touch. Mearracar brushed his massive claw-tipped paws through her white fur like a gentle bear, able to kill with a swipe and holding obvious destructive strength but still stroking her like he might a pet. When she turned his eyes were on her, almost affectionate if you looked hard for it, and Chloe, in keeping with her word, did her best to relax and let him do what he chose. His chaste petting continued down her back in a way that made her feel small but also safe and continued down to her tail which earned a surprised moan-yelp from her and made it poof back out. "Sensitive here. Noted," he coolly appraised. She nodded wordlessly.

The girl was unsure how long this went on, here in the flickering candlelight with a strangely alluring foreign dignitary treating her like a favored housepet, but it was long enough for her reservations to dissipate into foam and simply enjoy the present, the moment where things would be okay, and a strong irresistible male had complete control of her and thusly would protect her from everything that wasn't himself. If this was all it was... I'd understand it more easily, I think... she thought, beginning to whine happily.

Adora was first to break the silence. "Aww, master see how much snowfur likes it? This one knew she sensed something, yes!"

Mearracar opened one eye and glared at her. "Saoirse, fetch the Red Box for me." Adora whined, disheartened, as Saoirse stood to follow out her order, retrieving for her master a large (perhaps three, three and a half feet wide) red lacquered-wood chest.

Chloe deeply wanted to know what contents the box could hold to make Adora carry on so, but she did not have long to wait. "Here, master!" Saoirse said, fairly bubbly in tone although feeling more put-on than Adora's natural cheer, and opened it to display the contents lying inset into black velvet, contents which she went on to explain to the inexperienced wolf. "You'll be picking one of these, noble girl." She first pointed at a fat coil of red silk cords. "These are for tying people up, which I am, if I am permitted to say so, very good at." Adora groaned at that, obviously less keen on being bound than her peer. Her pointed finger moved to a little gold chain with a rigid shape at once end, sitting next to a tiny ring that was an incomplete circle, the ends sharply tapered but blunt. "These are clamps, and they're a lot like my piercings, for your clitoris and guiche." Chloe did not know what a guiche was but darted her eyes back at the clitoral clamp whenever she had a free second, the lewd device remaining on her mind. Saoirse gestured to a fishhook-shaped object, one end a hitch and the other a smooth bulb of cold steel. "This one's an anal hook - it would go in your tight little virgin rear, maybe even hooked to the cords" she smirked, having earned a shudder. "This one's a silk blindfold, I'd imagine that'd be obvious." It was.

Saoirse pointed to the last object, although Chloe knew what this one was, as well. "And this one, you've likely gathered, is a collar, just like hers or mine. It doesn't have a permanent lock though, just a clasp, so really, it's only useful for people to play slave with or mess with people. It's good silver though, and liable to fit your neck." The twenty-something "wild" fox (which meant little to the Wintermane girl) grinned, half playful and half spiteful. Chloe reached out and traced a finger over several of the items, her mind running wild with the sorts of wildly creative sexual escapades these foreigners must get up to, what Mearracar did with his slaves. What he might do to her if she only asked. "So, little voyeur: pick as many as you like, but you have to pick at least one. Whichever you pick, our Master will give you a taste of it until your hour is up. The Red Box is a sampler, really, fairly gentle as far as discipline goes but for an unvarnished maiden like yourself a slow start is preferable. Be glad you have such a chance."

The white wolf looked up at Mearracar, who simply nodded. Chloe tried to imagine herself in all of it at once and felt lightheaded, so it was quickly apparent that she would need to pare them down. She was awfully unsure about anything that might go into her bottom, baffled still by its existence, and being tied up sounded to her like it would make her feel too vulnerable, as would the blindfold. The clamps though... from the look of them, it would be a taste of Saoirse's piercings and maybe of the joy the red fox had felt underneath her visible distress not long before. And the collar... Yes. I'm not sure why but. Yes. She gestured to the clamps. "These, and- "she pointed to the collar as well, "this. If that's alright.."

Mearracar nodded. "Level-headed. Not the mildest choices nor the most extreme, not enough at once to overwhelm. Adora, bend over and stick your ass out - you get the rest of the box."

The fennec whined again. "B-but Master knows how much this one hates being tied up?"

"Get her muzzle too, Saoirse," he added to Adora's further consternation but eventual grudging acceptance. The petite fox only sulked for a second or two before turning on her knees and propping up on all fours and thrusting out her pert butt, brushy tail lifted. "While Saoirse gets her supplies in order, you, Wintermane girl." Chloe realized Mearracar was not just talking to her but ordering her and sat up straight, nervous but a little excited. "Hop down on the floor behind her. I want you to watch Saoirse work, and to get a good look at the way my Adora takes her punishment, even if she appears unable to keep her mouth shut without assistance."

Chloe did as he ordered, biting her tongue as it did not appear that he require any response to his orders save potentially "yes Master" and she wasn't ready for something like that, felt it would feel too much like actually selling herself into his harem. Silence seemed to be an acceptable response, and he nodded as she settled behind the exposed fennec on her own hands and knees. Nearby, Saoirse stretched out the ropes and unwound them, fetched little glass bottles of lubricant, and polished the hook with alcohol and a cloth, preparing her tools. Adora squirmed before her, heart-shaped rump, and pink pussy surprisingly close, and Chloe took the time to study her. Sure enough, no piercings were hiding down here either, the fennec only adorned with ear piercings - perhaps she was more averse to pain? Her ass was cute and girlish, soft for the squeezing but without an overabundance of extra fat, and between her cheeks the dark star of her tailhole sat puckered and undefended. Her flower was closer than Saoirse's had been, seen from the alcove, and Chloe sighed happily looking at her tighter folds and the few dewy drops of moisture clinging to them as to petals before dawn. The slight smell of her sex from the corridor was heady now, and while she wouldn't have herself described the exotic slave's scent as anything poetic like comparing it to flowers or honey, there was something primitive about it that made the deep parts of her brain light up, parts of the brain that were developed long before courtly graces or even agriculture: the parts that responded very simply to pheromones and potential opportunities for mating.

A broad hand grabbed Chloe's sensitive tail about halfway down and stroked up, once without repeating, and Mearracar was cheered to see her shiver. "You look hungrier than you did at the banquet table, young lady. Spread her with your fingers, feel how soft she is. If you see fit, you may give her a taste." Chloe wanted to react with shock, with "well I never!", but in honesty he had read her like a book, and she was happy to obey, not really realizing that she was now listening to the Exusian's commands even in a sexual sense.

Adora moaned cutely as Chloe touched her lower lips, feeling the wolf's fingers running up and down her and getting a feel for how another girl felt. "Mm, maybe the ropes will be worth it this time, I think. Give me a kiss, snowfur?"

The Wintermane girl hesitate only briefly at the suggestion. It had been a long, strange day, and she had already tasted more of adulthood than she could have dreamed even existed. Adora had stroked and licked and kissed at Chloe's own cunny until she screams with pleasure - who was the wolf to balk when asked to return the favor? The fennec was soft and responsive beneath her fingers, and surprisingly warm, and the musky nectar on Chloe's fingers made her what almost felt like a feeling between aroused and thirsty. Deciding to waste no more time, she wrapped her fingers around the front of Adora's thighs and pushed her muzzle against the fennec girl's vulva, first kissing her dripping slit and feeling fluids moisten her lips and then licking said lips clean. Just like her scent, there was very little sweet or poetic to describe the taste of the slave-vixen's pussy, but it had the slightest tang to it, a musky complexity with just a hint of salt and of metal, that made her brain interpret all of it as utterly

intoxicating, lighting up clusters of endorphins in her brain that sent her back for more, greedily drinking.

As Chloe serviced her, the fennec was cut off a half-beat into an even louder moan as Saoirse pulled the leather muzzle over her own, stifling the noise but not silencing it. "Noisy girl. Enjoy the moment, I'm going to tie you so tight you won't be moving an inch until Master decides you're allowed to." The red fox kissed the fennec's forehead as she whined sympathetically, smiling, still caring if she wasn't very forward with it. "Nighty-night." Saoirse placed the black blindfold over her partner's eyes and tied it tight behind her. "Noble girl, if you're so eager with that tongue of yours I'm a little jealous of the chatterbox here. Why don't you give her tailhole a big wet kiss, too? Get her all wet and ready for this hook."

The pale wolf stopped in her tracks, lips still touching Adora and nose almost touching the pucker in question. "H-her... people do that?!"

"My harem slaves eat a well-controlled diet and clean themselves out every day so that if have need of them to take anything in their asses from a finger to my shaft, they are ready. And they bath more frequently and in sweeter scents than maybe even you," Mearracar elaborated, stroking her hair and making her fluttery again.

"Aaaalso it's Adora's weak spot, if you really want to see her carry on," Saoirse added.

Chloe decided that she did, in fact, want to see that, and despite her reservations there was little in the way of foul scent about Adora, even there and even with her nose practically against it. Besides, she had said she was keen for a demonstration, and this was a part of how the harem vixens lived too, wasn't it? She tilted her muzzle up and spread Adora's cheeks with her thumbs. Yes that's a. That's an asshole. These eastern visitors might really be sex perverts. But... let's see little miss sneaky chatterbox make some noise. The same as she had Adora's snatch, she dove in with gusto after her initial hesitation, not enough room between the fennec's taut cheeks to kiss her tighter hole but more than enough to run her tongue around it. Finding it tasted very faintly earthy and of scented soap and otherwise like nothing at all, she pushed her tip against the fennec's pucker trying to make sure she got inside as well.

Adora's knees wobbled, and she almost fell. "Mmmn! Mmh, mmhuuuhuhuuu!" she moaned, the muffling of her muzzle not hiding the erotic character of those moans. Emboldened, Chloe pressed on. It's mostly just neutral if one does the prepwork I suppose? I had thought they were asking me for something decidedly more toilet-adjacent. Look at her, already a writhing mess. God, look at me Yesterday you had a vague idea of where babies came from, and today you're on all fours servicing an attractive slave-vixen's ass, and more than how fast that all moved you're thinking about more ways to make her feel good? Maybe I was born in the wrong life... Chloe did not stop long to think on that statement and pushed it down to deal with it later.

"Whoa, okay time to slow down and let me perform my duties now, thanks- "Saoirse said, gently tugging Chloe's headfur to remove her from between Adora's cheeks. "Little oral addict, maybe. If you were actually in Master's harem, I'd love to punish you myself, sit on that busy muzzle till you drown in me." The red fox drew her back with a hand on her throat, barely touching but with a slight menace that made Chloe want to listen to her, and when she was free enough, she stole a kiss of her own, kissing the flavors of Adora of the wolf girl's lips and letting her taste her first older woman. Alas though, there was work to be done, discipline to be meted out, and instead of continuing she turned and brought up her other paw, containing the steel hook from before, slick with some sort of oily liquid. "Spit's not nearly enough lubricant for anal - but a little pre-lube doesn't hurt, and. You seemed like you'd have a good time. Glad to know I guessed right. Hold her cheeks apart for me like you were." Chloe did so. "Now watch and learn." Saoirse pressed the fat apricot-sized bulb of steel against Adora's slick tailhole, rolling it around until "slick" became "sloppy", and then began to push.

Adora braced herself, the fur of her tail standing on end and her ears angled back, as she said what sounded like a lot of words into her muzzle, not even the leather device discouraging her. "Our cute island girl is a consummate butt-slut, see?" Saoirse said, grinning, which caused her eyes to squint to slits. "I'll barely even have to push to get this in. Here- "she sawed it up and down a bit looking for the angle she wanted, then once she found it pushed forward, the fennec carrying on as it pressed at her rear entrance hard and then sighing and shuddering once the silver ball began to push in, stretch out the rim of her vulnerable hole. "The middle's the hardest part because it's widest, so once it's past that it should just- "Right as Saoirse said as much, the pressure on Adora's sphincter was all released as the silver ball passed that very point and her hungry tailhole sucked the rest in with no need of pressure at all, the fennec girl shaking so much her front half dropped to the floor and just left her back half up.

"It'd take that same kind of pressure to pull it back out, now, and we won't let her do something like that of course," Saoirse continued, reminding Chloe a bit of a school teacher, "And in just a moment it's going to be tied to her bound wrists so it will stay riiiight where I put it. You can uh, let go now. Give it a tug, she's fun to watch!" Chloe did so, and promptly watched Adora push her ass back against it, moaning long and low into her muzzle and now dripping wet mere inches below where the hook sat. "Good girl. Now give us some space, it'll take me a little bit to work my magic and you're overdue to be disciplined."

Chloe had almost managed to forget the massive Exusian male whose feet she had been kneeling at, let alone that once Adora was settled it was her turn, and she was a little embarrassed by as much, but once she looked up to her temporary "Master" for instructions, the subtle anticipation in his eyes behind his cold expression made her entire body remember it. She thought she sensed something of the swell of his bitch-breaking cock, beneath those robes, from watching his chatty fennec be properly discipline, and wondered how much if any of that arousal might be for a fumbling virgin like herself. Still, when he appraised her body from on high like this, she felt a distinct want for him to find her the same sort of beautiful he found his vixens, not necessarily to live like they lived but if just in the moment, be an obedient girl and serve the obviously superior creature before her. When he met her liquid eyes and said simply, "Up," her body instinctively obeyed, no complicated thoughts needed. It was just as simple when he followed with, "Back towards me, then stick your ass out so I can see," and with any thought of how scandalous this all was, she complied, swishing her fat tail in the air over her nubile rump as she lewdly exposed her most sensitive places for this near-stranger. I... I almost can't believe I'm doing this, but it feels so... easy... no... normal?

Natural.

She startled slightly when she felt Mearracar's hand upon her, working between her legs and making her spread them a little wider, then as he pulled his hand back stopped to appraisingly grope her white-furred ass. "Lots of potential. How a daughter of such good stock was produced from such parents is quite the mystery," he mused. "I will be attaching the clamps now. It will hurt, but not much, and not for long. Endure, and you will understand." The wolf had little to focus on except the open hallway, where despite the hour anyone could still, technically, walk by, and tried to keep herself distracted by watching the fascinating ropework of Saoirse, currently wrapping Adora's' chest and petite breasts into a harness of knots that looked like they might pull maddeningly once the rest of the work was complete. Paying as little attention as she was, Chloe was caught almost by surprise by the guiche "piercing", having only a brief second to think, Oh, the space between my womanly bits and my tailhole, that's what a guiche is- before the cold that had alerted her to something metal touching her there was opened and then let to close, pinching tightly to the flap of skin between her exposed holes and making her whine in pain.

"Owwwowow-!" she cried with a wince, then covered her mouth. She tried her damnedest to remain upright and presenting, but the little weight pulled at her, the initial pinch going from sharp pain to a duller one but never leaving. Each time she made any minute movement, it shook, giving a bizarre pulling sensation near the base of her vagina and weirder still at her tailhole, the spot apparently connected enough to the muscles of either hole to tug at them subtly. Lord Mearracar was right - it certainly hurt. But. She steadied her shaky breathing as best she could, and stayed where she was, showing the Exusian that she could take it and displaying her mock-piercing as it adorned the bridge between her most secret places.

Mearracar chuckled behind her and oh-so-gently tugged the clamp to verify its security, and the pulling sensations doubled, the pain returning in full but this time the pulling sensation felt less alien and at least a little... rewarding. "Brave strong wolf. If I gave you a harder tug you'd stumble, cry, perhaps wet yourself. But I will not. The clamp for your little rosebud will hurt much worse, but the pleasure will be much greater for it. Remain standing and I may even praise you." Chloe realized that she wanted that praise, to earn it, to prove she could take his punishments as well as his foxes could, and she steeled herself for the second of the two clamps.

It wasn't enough. The cold upon her pink button was already an unpleasant rush given how sensitive it was, and the pinch of the clamp went from something she could grit her teeth through to screaming agony in the fractions of a second it took for it to fully close, and her howl of pain rang ragged down the corridors. Chloe would have worried that it would rouse someone - that her family would catch her like this and then who knew what? Rescue her and then put her under lock and key, sell her to Mearracar as though she was expired goods? - but it was already enough work just keeping her legs from giving out beneath her and sending her pitching forward. Her front half which had been a bit above parallel with the ground sagged, and with her fingertips she brushed the floor trying to find some small bit of support from the unceasing sensation. Worse still was that despite the pain that made her want to cry and flee, beneath it where she couldn't truly feel it as yet her body was in lusty overdrive, the constant pinch of her most sensitive nerves enflaming her hormones and cranking any indicators of her arousal as high as they would go. Her nipples ached, stiff at the peaks of her mounds. Inside she felt her muscles contract needily and felt that distinct need to be filled she wanted to ignore, and she had no doubt that her well-displayed snatch was glistening wet. With any pain, there was getting used to it, all in time, but whether or not this was a level she could stand without passing out was another question altogether.

"You are still conscious and with your wits about you. That is more than many. Be proud, Chloe Wintermane." Around the sharp pains she was searching for any better way to cope with, she felt a flush of pride at that. I can do this. I can take it. "Stand, and turn to face me. Show your master-for-the-moment the pretty jewelry he has gifted you." Push it down, just push the pain down you can fight it you can- "Don't fight it, girl. You'll never push through that way, you will simply endure until you can no longer do so." Chloe's blood ran a little cold as she felt him practically read her thoughts, his intuition impeccable. "Embrace it. Let yourself feel everything, no blocking it out, and you will be able to feel the pleasure in it as well, the pleasure that's currently soaking those snowy thighs." She swallowed hard, standing up at last even though each movement made her clamps shake and pull at her further, and exhaled, realizing she was fighting the pain so hard she was holding her breath. Her eyes were already reddening with tears she was trying not to cry when she turned to see him, her knees a little wobbly, but when she glanced down and she saw the clamp with the pretty chain, so close to Saoirse's piercing, and managed to think that displayed for Mearracar like this she felt absolutely beautiful.

"Not looking too shabby!" Saoirse called from the corner where the wiggling Adora was now on the ground, too tied up to stand. The fennec's chest harness had been iterated upon and now bound her wrists behind her back as well, and as Chloe watched the red fox tied the wrist harness to the hook in the muzzled girl's ass, pulling it tight into a mildly-less-comfortable position and keeping it there. "Shh, be good, you!" she quietly scolded Adora, who whined pitifully.

Mearracar's finger stroked the soft underside of Chloe's throat, dragging his claw gently enough not to cause damage, just enough to let her know it was there and that the Exusian was powerful enough to do anything he wanted to her up to and including ending her life with a single finger. "You begin to resemble a proper slave, Wintermane. One crucial touch remains." The brown-furred older male brought up the silver temp-collar now, giving her a few seconds to look at it before he continued. The pain that Chloe was trying not to clench down on, not ball up her emotions or brace her flesh to lessen, was no less now, but somehow, she felt herself adjusting, feeling a warm sharp pleasant sensation from the tugging chain that almost made the pain worthwhile, and both sensations ramped her endorphins high. She felt good, even in this searing pain, felt that flutter through it still when she saw the collar. An irresistibly superior male desires you, adorned you like his favorite concubine, has a collar before you to keep you. And even with my button feeling inches from ripping off... I want it, at least in this demonstration, this moment. She nodded at him, unafraid, ready. "Oh?" he mused. "It's more common for foxes to instinctually know their place, but you're the first wolf I've seen respond so warmly to their first brush with our ways. This collar may look more appropriate, then, than anything you've ever worn." The silver circle of metal was clicked open, then placed around her neck. She kept eye contact with him, unflinching, as he closed it, just barely restricting her throat and making her indistinguishable from a third member of his traveling harem. She felt it with her fingers, cold and unyielding. For at least through the end of her "demonstration" she was his slave, truly.

"Now you look the part. Good. As I suspected it suits you. Now for your actual discipline."

She gulped. "Th-this isn't it?" The weighty little jewel at the end of the chain of her clit clamp danced as she shuddered.

"Oh no, no, this was simply preparatory. I was not unaware of how much you seemed to enjoy Saoirse's disciplining, and thought a lighter taste of the same would be... enlightening."

"The, the paddle?!" Chloe said, fidgeting.

"You're not nearly ready. Come, up on the bed with me." She obeyed, sitting gingerly. Saoirse giggled, not paying attention to them much as she looped another length of the cord around Adora's ankles and began securely fastening them as well to the anal hook. "No - lay down, across my lap, on your belly," Mearracar ordered a mildly-distracted Chloe, who despite a bit of puzzlement and despite the throbbing of her adornments complied, only to have him shift his knees forward, leaving her dangling off the back of them somewhat as thought she had been a naughty girl and her father was about to punish her with a-

...spanking. Ah.

"I will only be using my hand, curious Wintermane girl. But I will not go any easier than I deem absolutely necessary. I will count them myself, or else you will likely lose track more than once on me. Consider this fair repayment for eavesdropping." She nodded weakly, thinking with a chill about what the "piercings" would do when she was smacked thusly, resolving to stay conscious for as long as absolutely possible. "Twenty strikes, the same as before. No one will come to this room, I have ordered absolute privacy. Cry as much as you need, or moan if it suits you. Find for yourself how your sweet voice responds to it, and keep your proud tail lifted out of my way."

Chloe nodded again, and against her better judgment but wanting very much to try it out, answered, "Yes Master." She could swear she heard him intake breath in surprise, but she could not look up to see his face, and he said nothing. Instead, there was a short whistle of a hand through the air, and everything below her waist and above her mid-thighs was ablaze with pain.

His strike was true, and smacked satisfyingly into her undefended cheeks as he firmly counted, "One!" The guiche clamp swung wildly with the impact and tugged at both entrances, and the little chain clamped to her clit danced and jingled. Fresh pain sang through her, but horny as she was under all of it any further stimulation to her chained-up clit felt desirable. She cried out, an ugly noise, low and caught off-guard and marred by a moment where her breath froze in her throat. There are nineteen left?! How... why do I somehow still feel eager for the next? Just because it will tug my sensitive parts and feel a little good under a lot of hurting? Because it will make the Lord happy? I... I hope it's soon.

The next strike was soon enough to follow. "Two! Three!" came in quick succession, and the second of the pair had her flush with heat, the stimulation finally breaking through. Somehow, she almost felt herself enjoying even the rest of it, the simple act of receiving sexual punishment from a master she knew was interested in her, would find her beautiful in her struggling. It occurred to her that she was laid flat over that mammoth phallus, and the predatory musk the Exusian gave off was stronger now than she had yet smelled it. Is he turned on under there? Do I, do I please him? "Four!" Her ass stung with the impact and from the continued assault was more and more stinging even when he wasn't paddling her with his hand, but she felt something inside her slipping, in a way that was a little attractive and a little scary. Things... mattered less. Things like who might see them or the scruples she had built up over a lifetime raised somewhat religious and very ascetic in sexual matters, all the way to angst about her place in the family or the apparent doom of Ivolgin, none of it mattered compared to letting him complete his control of her. It felt simple. It felt good.

Chloe barely heard the next six numbers. As though it was happening to someone else, she heard anguished moaning, pleasure and pain howled out without pesky things like language, all in her own voice. The pain was constant, the pleasure throbbing and mixing with it to where she wanted more of both, wanted him to hit her until he was satisfied that she had learned her lesson. As she tunneled deeper into her own headspace she wondered if she was being a good girl for her "Master", felt the body she was attached to push its ass out a little bit between strikes showing her eagerness. The wolf felt if she came like this, her life would be forever altered - this was not an experience she thought she would be able to shrug off and walk away from, not without years down the line finding a husband who could treat her just like she had on this one amazing night.

And then suddenly Mearracar had stopped. Chloe's vision filled in, showing off a Saoirse rapt at attention with Adora's paws now tied to her chest harness and leaving her a whining ball of ropes and sensual flesh. Chloe was where she had been, across Mearracar's knees, but there was no counting, no strikes, as she started to come down. "Wh-what...? Did you make it to tw-twenty?" she said with difficulty, her brain pleasantly fuzzy.

"The candle is out. Your hour is up. You may leave, Miss Wintermane."

N-no, wait! She wanted to say, wanted to beg to be put back wherever it was she was going to, to feel that pleasure overwhelm her and consume her. "How... many strikes were left?"

"I last counted ten."

Halfway?! Come on, don't tease me - hit me harder! She found herself thinking, resolving to file that urge away for later. "Y-you should finish, right? I said I'd take, take it, and I meant it, Mas - Lord Mearracar!"

"Are you requesting further discipline, girl?"

She hung her head, embarrassed. "I... maybe...? Ugh..."

"Then say it. Clearly. Make a request. I am a generous man."

"...f-finish, uh. Finish spanking... me."

"Definitively. Command me in no uncertain terms."

"G-give me the other ten! I want it!" Chloe cried, significantly more desperate as the endorphins began to wane.

"Now beg."

She flushed red at that, but her pride as a noble heiress was already tatters and she simply knew she needed this badly. "Please, Master! Punish your bad girl fully, I need it!"

Chloe didn't have to look to sense him smiling. "Simply exquisite. I will not hold back nearly so much for the next ten - it would merely be disrespect to you, at this point." Despite the sharp tugging at her clit and the tingling as the clamp let it engorge with blood, she consciously now pushed her ass out, ready for the pain and pleasure she wanted to feel again.

The eleventh spank was so hard it made her tailbone ache, and the noise out of her lips was pure sex this time, as her body seemed to reinterpret the pain of all the tugging and soreness and impact as just another good feeling, another reason to flood her with those endorphins once again. "Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen!" There was no random waiting or anticipation in his strikes like there were with Saoirse, just the relentless punishment of the white wolf who had literally begged for it. Chloe plunged back into that warm dark fuzzy headspace again, wanting Lord Mearracar to do anything he wanted with her body, to just for the moment make her nothing, not even a person, until he was satisfied. His words were heard as if through a tub of water, but her pussy sang with pleasure, droplets of her arousal misting the air with each heavy spank, as his strikes turned her ass so pink that it could be seen through her pale fur.

Chloe felt a distant throb that rapidly became something concrete among the other blurring intensities she was under the spell of, and recognized it as the feeling she had right before she orgasmed for Adora. She had no idea how many strikes Mearracar had left but she knew she would beg him to continue until she came screaming over his knees. She concentrated on that through her starry vision, and right as she felt herself near the peak, heard herself moaning without ceasing even when no spanking was occurring, she heard the Exusian speak. "That is twenty." Before she could whine for more or even feel her mounting pleasure waning, he continued. "I'm going to remove the clamp from your clitoris. For you it will be quite intense." And then pressure that had been building since the collar was snapped onto her was unleashed, as if half of what she could be feeling had been stored up in the clamp as blood rushed to fill and engorge her freed pleasure buzzer.

The finishing blow was one word from Mearracar, no longer even touching her but a command nonetheless: "Cum."

Chloe thrashed in ecstasy as she did just that, howling like a girl on her wedding night for the strong master who had rewarded his pet for her good work, had disciplined her appropriately for her transgressions. At some point as she writhed in his lap, he removed the guiche clamp as well, but she barely took notice, too busy with more sensations than she had felt in all her nineteen years. She felt hot liquid practically erupt from her at the height of it, not knowing what a squirting orgasm was but too far gone to worry that she'd pissed herself. As it ran its course, she realized he had held her to his waist with a strong hand, making sure she did not roll onto the stone floor, and as the white-hot pleasure began to gradually dim at last that Saoirse was there too, offering a shoulder for her to rest her head on, stroking her hair and making noises like a mother soothing her child. She wanted to say thank you, to receive care for her wounds and ails as Saoirse had, ask Mearracar so much, but it suddenly occurred to her that she was tired, so, so tired - it had been past her bedtime when she left her room in the first place, and who knew what time it was now. And after the intense experience she had been put through, she had simply no more energy left to give. Blackness took her, and she fell asleep still collared, across the lap of one she had in the heat of the moment called Master, looking no different from the other slaves in his harem, secure, pleasured, and spent.

Her dreams were of slavery. Many of them worryingly less unpleasant than she would have imagined in her waking hours. In every one of them she wore a collar, just like she had tonight. And even in the mildly scary ones, she was smiling.