Emilia

Jaeger Dominus

I held the note in my hand as I knocked on her door, early into the night. She didn't respond like the other whores did, where they'd open the door in a sultry dress, raise their eyebrows and flick their ears to tell me to come inside. "Come to come?" Some would ask, making clear there would be a deeper embrace that night, and almost immediately. But she didn't respond, and there was no one at the door when I opened it.

"Hello?" I asked, feeling my hand push into the door as if in instinct. Usually a foot would stop there, to confirm if I had truly paid for the room with them, instead of just wandering the halls to get my cock wet while my shared room partner slept. But there was no resistance: the door swung open and slammed into the bathroom door. The lights were on; someone was in there. I didn't know who I'd meet.

To be honest, I didn't care about the sex in that moment. I went to the one place I knew where I could be warm and have someone to talk to. A shared hotel had its stigmas, well-earned because they employed those stigmas for more business, but I wanted to use it for its original purpose: to talk to someone, and to not be alone. My family kept talking in the letter I gripped how their "life was so much better" and how I "seemed like a stranger." In a way it felt like taunting: I was so deathly ill they left me in Zinnia to move north, and all I was left with was my own semblance of self-defense. They had the gall to as me for money in that note, as well, why would they? Their life was so much better without me, why involve me further?

I entered the room.

"Hello?" I asked again. "Is this--"

"Rivaine?" a voice returned. I turned the corner to the room and saw a woman in white lace, wearing a veil over her face to hide her shame. She was an opossum-woman, her fur frazzled and her hands pink, folded on her lap. She looked to the floor.

"Emilia?" I asked.

"That is me," her voice continued. "What do you wish?"

"I wish for a warm room," I said. She turned to me. What she would have saw was a rat-man, black fur all over his body, and a mess himself, with frazzled fur and whiskers. I hadn't had running water for a week; I hadn't had heat for a day. In a rainy winter, that's a death sentence. I was lucky to have found a place to hide in my younger years, but eventually I scrambled enough together to rent a townhome. That worked for a year, but my jobs eventually ran dry. And still my parents asked for money. How wretched were they to ask the near-homeless for money?

"Anything you else wish for?" she asked.

"A shower."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you a foreigner?"

"No," I said, "I've lived in the town."

"You've also visited plenty of times before," she said. "I've seen a younger you through the wall slats, where your partner in your shared room moaned relentlessly."

I had found housing in the shared hotels. I had a way with my dick, but the hard part was having to say goodbye to someone you forged beautiful memories with. Such was the horrid ways of the whore. You pay them and yet you leave with less than what you gave.

"Yes," I said, "But I'm not in the mood tonight."

"So why come here?" she asked.

"For a warm room and a shower," I said. "That's all I can ask for right now. I'm going to be evicted, my power and water are already off, and yet going to the one of the few places that gives me some semblance of comfort is questioned?"

"Yes," she said. "There're hotels where the whores don't infest it."

"It's not an infestation," I said, "it's an agreement here. You understand."

"You don't."

She turned back to her bed, and I sighed. My ears flopped downwards in disappointment, and I could smell the scents of clean linens. She hadn't had to use them all day; usually, when I was with other partners, they had slightly dirtied sheets. The more popular ones preferred the floor. She either was unhappy for one reason or another.

"I'm going to shower," I said. "If you need to, I'll be -"

"Just go," she said.

I felt my eyes well. For choosing the cheapest room, I got less than what I paid. She didn't have to put out, yet she was still morbidly upset. What bugged her more than what bugged me?

I headed into the shower, undressed, and readied for the water to wash over me. She had a standing shower with a basin to lay down in. This could have been the place I - no, I knew I couldn't. Could I? I didn't know if I had the strength.

The whoremaster, also known as the front-desk clerk, warned me about the room. She said I wouldn't get my money's worth, since she was always mopey. All I needed was someone to wallow in sorrow with, so I disregarded her warnings. But she had a point, and I felt a deeper sadness dealing with Emilia. She accepted me without hesitation, only to make me look like a fool.

There was a razor, a straight one, in the shower, as I washed off. Was it hers? Her way out in case things went terribly. I had deep, intrusive thoughts, on what I would do with it. Would I maim myself in such a fashion?

They disowned me. They didn't want me anymore. No one did. Not even her, the whore I hired. I hired the room, actually, but there was the implication. I wanted her to give me the attention I desired, that sweet emotion of focus on another Hastark. Instead, though, she laid no love, not even a care, upon my life. Who was she to call herself a prostitute, if she couldn't give me the love I craved?

I grabbed the razor, ready to head out of the bathroom, nearly turning the water off. But then I stopped.

No, I couldn't hurt her. I couldn't.

I put the razor down, but my hand twitched. There was that thought again, that thought of suicide. It penetrated all throughout my life, before they left, and long after. Would this moment be the end?

In my mind, I decided it would be.

I picked up the razor, put it to my neck. I could end it here, in the place I'm happiest. I could, I could--

The door opened to the shower room, and I put the razor away in a dash.

"What are you doing with my razor?" Emilia asked. "Why did you--You don't seem the type to shave beards."

"I'm tired of this life!" I felt myself blurt out, as the numbness of near-death washed over me. "I can't take this pain anymore, this horrid suffering my life has been for the past decade!"

"Get out of the shower," she said. Her love was tough. "Let me see if you're hurt."

I wasn't, thankfully, but I turned the knobs to the shower, stepped out, and presented my nude body to her. Her eyes examined me over, and I noticed her eyes having a harder time straying from my legs. She saw my thickness down there, and I saw her smirk for the briefest of moments. But then her eyes went to my neck, and she reached out to part the fur.

"I'm okay," I said, "I'll be -"

"Let me check," she said, and she felt the graze of my neck. It felt almost sensual, her touch, and I gasped. She looked concerned at first with my gasp, as if I was truly hurt, but then she disregarded it and chuckled.

"You sure you're not here for a good rest?" she asked, using innuendos to what most people did in rooms like these.

"I'm alone, but I'm not in the mood."

"You don't look like you aren't," she said, and her eyes darted down. My cock throbbed hard, from the touch. "You sure you know what you want?"

I gulped. "I honestly want to die."

She backed off, her eyes glanced to the razor, and she looked at me.

"What?" She asked. "You went to a whorehouse to kill yourself?"

"Shared Hotel," I corrected.

"I can't have you dying in my place," she replied, ignoring my correction. "You're going to make me unable to leave for the rest of my life. You hear me? If I can't leave, I'd never be able to pursue what I wanted to do before I got into - into this trap!" She flung her hands around the bathroom. "I'm stuck here, and this wet rat-man is going to ruin it all for me."

"I'm sorry- ''

"Are you?" she asked. "Are you really? I don't think you are. You seem to want to ruin people's livelihoods, feasting on the pussy of whores. You've been under my learning gaze at least twenty times. Have you ever paid your bills to enjoy your home instead of what you were forced to pay?"

I gulped again. Roughness didn't start to describe the touch of pain I felt.

"And what's this?" she asked, taking the note from my hand. "A suicide note? Come on!"

"it's disownment," I replied. "My family disowned me."

The color of her cheeks under her fur flushed away. "Is it because--"

"They don't love me," I said, and cried. My tears were blisteringly hot. "Oh, they don't love me, but they love me enough to rub it in my face. They're not apathetic to my plight, they hate me! I don't even know if they always had hated me."

"Jordan's grace," she replied. Her arms sank and her ears flattened. "I can't imagine. My parents died long ago, on our trip down south. Gentrification colonization, some folks in Zinnia called it, but seeing as our phenotype was from the south, I thought we'd fit in. Apparently, they can even tell when the native is foreign."

I had thought she was a vixen by her northernized name, myself. I was willing to be less moody if I was given touch from a fennec, or even an orange fox. But she didn't, and that led to where we were - here.

"Tell me about your life," I said. I was intrigued to hear more of her story. I wanted to cry about my own story as I thrusted deep into someone's daughter, but right now hers sounded more interesting.

"Would you like to get dressed?" she asked. "I'd prefer if you wore at least underwear while I talked."

I nodded, though I could have easily said no, and she would have to talk to me with my wet and sweaty nakedness. I didn't want to do that to her though, and I couldn't figure out why. She seemed special enough to listen to at least.

I put my clothes back on, we sat on the bed.

"So," she asked, "what do you want to talk about?"

"We're here to talk about you," I said.

"Not you?" she asked. "I mean, yes, I was going to talk about me, but why would you want to hear my story?"

"Well," I said, "I've been alone for most of my existence. I got sick at a very young age when my parents were moving north, and they left me here. They kept in touch--" I nodded at that. Touch was something I desperately lacked. "--and I had to fend for myself when the foster system would no longer hold me. I had to fend for myself to find warmth in this city, and eventually I got myself together to get a job and support myself."

"But why am I interesting to you?" she asked.

"Because you are?" I asked, looking at her in confusion. "You seem interesting enough."

"You were close to ignoring me," she said. "You'd never hear from me again."

"That's true. But you sound like you've been through the similar things I've been, so I wanted to hear your perspective."

She nodded and told me her story. She was once a young landlady, at the age of eighteen, when her parents forced her to sell all her property like they did and move to the south to buy cheaper land and crop-run for orchards. They thought it would make a fair deal of money, and she knew her way with money.

"I have this note of all my expenses," she said, pulling out a paper from her inner breast pocket. "I try to cut wherever I can to get over the whoremaster's debt."

As we talked through the night, I learned more. The whoremaster never let on to their deals they made in the back. But that meant she had some sudden debt she had to pay? There was only one way to have sudden debt in Zinnia, and that's with sudden death. I listened intently to how her parents had died, from a Cholera outbreak in the travelling company that spread to the rest of the travelers. They made it to Zinnia, without knowing dying in Zinnia was a death sentence to the rest of the family: Funeral costs were extravagant, mandated by the local religious authorities, and taxed to kingdom come.

"It was horrible, to see them die in such a way. My mom used to be a healthy lady, but to see her fur matted and her bones nearly sticking out from the disease's erosion was too much for me to bear. All our money was gone, and then some. There was no way out but to use my body."

She teared up at that part, the horror of her face exasperated by her bawling. "Oh, the freaks I had to sleep with every night! The horrid things I had to do in the name of making it out. But they never paid enough. Oh, they never paid enough. I couldn't escape the payments to the whoremaster, and I did everything I could to meet them. This could have been my final night on this planet, since I was so close to finally paying off my debts. I would have stuck out to see if you were worth it all, since you always paid handsomely. But if you weren't here--"

I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. After all this time listening to her life, I found a liking to her personality and body, and a comfort that made me forget my sad moods. A deep liking, one of caring and compassion, like one would have for a partner. My mind had left the suicide gone, and I felt the attention I desperately needed that prompted it. She seemed to care for me, along with her actions of checking me for wounds. I felt like I was cared for. It made me feel bold. And that made me wonder if there could have been anywhere else she could have gone. From her evident knowledge of money, she could have been a desk manager, a genius in her own right, or at least found somewhere safer than a shared hotel to stay. I noticed the sky lightening out the window, and her initial fear of me seemed to fade with the night. She had a glint in her eyes, something that told me that she was more comfortable now with me. I would ask my question.

"Sweet spirits," I said, "why are you here if you're so smart?"

"I could ask the same of you," she replied, "but I, Emilia, have the luck of a rabid dog. I was screwed from the start."

I chuckled. "I can feel that." I brushed the side of my maw, feeling nervous. "I haven't met anyone here that had your wits."

"Well, they're mine, not theirs, so there's that," she said, and chuckled. "But people like head more than they like brains."

"I like your mind," I replied. "It's more beautiful than any love I made here."

She smiled. "Thank you."

I looked her in the eyes and took her hand. "You're honestly worth so much more than any other person I met here. I'd love to take you out of this hell, if you'd prefer to take me out with it."

"Suicide?" she asked.

"Oh, no," I said, almost forgetting I had that incident. She hadn't. "I meant getting our lives back together. I still have my job, I can recover it, but I want to see you by my side every night for the rest of my life."

"Rivaine, that's really sudden--"

"Think of it," I said. "Even if we all fall through, we can't find love any more for the rest of nights, you'll be able at least to get out of this situation. I'd love to use me to help you. You know what I mean."

She blushed, and she put a hand to her maw. "That's... actually true. Mind I ask, how much did you pay for the room? I know it's always handsome, like you are, but--"

"I'll pay whatever you need to get out. Well, all I can afford. I have two hundred shellacks left, and payday comes tomorrow, this weekend. Anything you need, my sweet Emilia."

She silenced for a bit, and nearly wept.

"Thank you," she whispered. She brought the tip of her maw to mine and kissed me. "You're one of the better ones I've had to share this room with. And I hope I never have to have my room paid for again."

"You'll be safe with me," I said, and stroked through her hair. "You're safe with me."

She chuckled. "You're good with your hands," she said. "You know, you still have this room for the night, and I wouldn't mind spending a consummation with you, if that means I can leave."

I had it on my mind, as well. She was strikingly gorgeous, though I liked my women thicker. She had thinner arms, thinner legs, thinner everything. She seemed fragile, as if she skipped meals to make her rent. She had shown me how she saved up, that was true, and that helped her get out of this rut that was her life.

"You can leave whenever you want," I said. "But if you want to have some fun--"

I squeezed her thigh.

"--I can arrange that."

She shuddered, before she chuckled. I noticed her lace outfit wetted between her legs, her excitement showing from her crotch. I couldn't wait to have my way with her, but things took time before they could burst into proper, fantastic emotion. I wanted to treat her right, and she would love every second of it before she would have her freedom.

I kissed her again, caressing her thigh, before gripping her ass. "Oh, you're beautiful," I moaned lightly, "and so smart."

"Oh," she said, and giggled, "grip me like a rein."

I nodded, though the thought of comparing her body to the reins of a saddle-animal was odd. Whatever made her mind blossom, I guessed.

I gripped her, rolled her over, pulled slowly on her lace. "You don't mind if I take this off," I asked, just in case she said no. "No," she replied, and she helped shimmy out of her own clothes. I did the same, and soon we were two naked Hastarks, with only the fur on our skin to hide ourselves. She had a gray back, hidden by her white lace, and I rubbed my hands on her back, massaging her skin with my calloused hands. Working in a factory did that to them, but it made for more sensual touch. Already, with the warmth of our bodies, I felt a sweat build, and I smelled stress coming off from me.

"You're sweating already?" She asked, looking back to me.

"I'm stressed," I said. "I've done it more rote before, the sexual pleasuring, but I'm nervous I'm not doing it right."

"Oh, you're doing it right, alright," she said, "Just move a bit further down, to my thighs. I have a knot down there I need untensing."

I moved to her thighs, rubbing in them with my fingers and knuckles deep. With her fur and hot skin, her throbbing pulse, her everything, I felt a dripping of precum from my cock. Spirits on soil, this was hot. If only I could take her right, then.

"Drag me to you," she said, moaning and giggling with her words, "pleasure me, please."

I did so, by gripping her by the hips and pulling her along. Her entrancing body caught my eyes, and I didn't know what to do next. But I wanted to play this out as long as I could. With my hands, I played with the lips of her labia, before flicking her clit with my palm. She started tensing, squirming, and moaning in ecstasy.

"Faster, finger me too," She whimpered. "Oh, yes, yes, yes."

Keeping my claws down as low as possible, I ran two fingers around the edge of her cunt, before slipping them in. She gasped in pleasure, and cried "deep, deep!" I fingered faster, pleased she wanted me so. It felt amazing to be wanted. No other woman, not even the previous prostitutes, made me feel as wanted as she made me feel in that moment. I needed Emilia in my life, as much as I could.

"Oh, fuck me alrea--unh!" she cried out before she shuddered, arching her back. I got her to orgasm, and she convulsed on the bed gasping in every euphoric breath. But, like she wanted, I would--if she was going to be okay!

I couldn't help but watch as she recomposed herself, her slightly tearing up from the force of her climax. Her claws had extended, a sign of copulation enjoyment in ancient Hastark, but her toes claws did too, which meant she had such an intense orgasm it activated her fight or flight. She laid on the bed, stunned for a second, before she came back to.

"Good god," she moaned, "that was strong. They've never felt that good. I almost panicked."

"Probably because the pleasure wasn't a sign of enjoyment before," I said.

"It was always forced upon me," she said, "and it felt even worse when it happened against my will. I had puked before after forced orgasms."

"Are you sure you want to get fucked?" I asked. "I don't want to hurt you."

She seemed half as stunned by me saying that. "You sure?"

"If you get upset," I said, "because of my own pleasuring, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. How would I live knowing I hurt someone as precious as you?"

She rolled over, sat up in the bed. "Rivaine, honey, I know you care, but for you I want you to have that strong of pleasure as I did."

"Are you okay with that?" I asked.

"You care too much. You never cared this much with the others."

"I didn't know they wouldn't have wanted too either. Spirits on soil, how many people have I hurt?"

She was standing up now, her claws clicking on the floor. "Not now," she whispered. "Cum inside me. For me?"

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Lay on your back," I said.

She did so, and I picked up her legs from underneath.

"Oh, that's a good position," she said, and she slightly tensed when I lifted them up past my hips. She recognized what I was doing, and when I climbed upon the bed she was laughing. "Oh, you're doing the mating press. That's not done a lot."

"I need your scent on me," I said, before prodding her. "I need your everything, no matter how crazy I am. I need you, Emilia."

"And I need you, Rivaine," she replied. "But stick yourself in already!"

She was so wet I slipped in without effort. I slammed her hips and pussy with my own, thrusting as fast as I could. Her moans came out in quick bursts, with every jump of me onto her. I neared, so quickly too. It felt comfortable, like a warm home in the middle of winter. An oasis in the desert, a lush paradise in a world of ruin. I teared up and tensed as I quickened my pace.

"I'm cumming!" she cried again, and her legs pulled me in, and her hands dug into my back. In my orgasm I pumped once, twice, three times into her cunt, before pulling out and letting my ejaculation shoot onto her chest. Some came upon her breast, and she giggled at the sight.

"Oh, you're a thick guy," she said. "I came again during that, but without all the shock. It felt comfortable."

I laid on my side, recovering. I had to recover, to not run away, to not feel the fear of the mess I made like a feral dog. I was so scared, the feelings I felt, the wants I wanted.

"Yeah," I shuddered, "I heard."

But I recovered, and we cuddled. We laid in the loving embrace of each other, covered in sweat and musk from one another. She loved me, clearly, and if she didn't it was the best ruse, I ever willingly partook in. I loved her, and I knew that. I wanted her to be my only, and I knew she wanted me to be the same. How much I desired her charms, her beauty, her intelligence. I never met anyone like her before.

"You're amazing," I whispered into her ear. "But now comes the time we get you out of here."

"You're really doing it, huh," she said, and flicked some cum off her tit. "You already let me get out of here before, by being my last patron. What do you have in mind?"

"Where are you going to go after tonight?" I asked. "And what happens when you cancel your stay early?"

"Well, I get reimbursed half of my payment," she said, "and I planned to do this a bit more to make money--"

"You'd be in the same trap that made you miserable," I said. I gripped her shoulders, and put my head to hers, locking eyes with her. "You can't keep doing this. You need a way out, and not to rely on it."

"And if I cut my stay early," she said, the gears in her mind turning, "I can get a bit of extra money for you. As thanks--"

"All I ask is that you stay with me," I said. "My loneliness is vaster than a dry desert and as desolate. I cannot handle another night alone, and I assume by that razor neither can you."

She looked down. "Right, yeah."

"So, we stay together, and get out of this trap. We find a better job for you, using your smarts, and we get out of this cycle. What do you say?"

Her eyes seemed to glow from joy now. She had hope, for the first time in years. "I'll take it. I'll take you whenever, but I'll take this once in a lifetime chance. Oh, spirits on soil, am I going to get out of here!"

I agreed. We readied to leave, her packing her things and showering. We showered together, and I helped clean her off. We threw the razor out the window, probably dangerous for others but we were safer as a result. We mixed our scents, wore each other's fragrances, and we kissed on the bed a second time. It was a true a love as any, and by Zinnia customs the sharing of fragrances was a proposal sign. I explained it to her. All she could do was chuckle and smile.

"That's not a problem for you?" I asked.

"Not at all, handsome," she said.

My heart warmed. We left to check out, heading down the hall past all the rickety rooms, and into the luxurious lobby, where the whoremaster stayed and worked. She was a burly tabby-cat, thick and wide, and was originally a prostitute herself before she 'moved up the ranks.' She was my first partner in the carnal pleasures.

"We're checking out," I said.

"We?" she said, her eyes widening. "You're leaving with Emilia, Rivaine?"

"Of course," she said in my steed.

The whoremaster squinted at her, before turning to me. "You know, I can raise your debts whenever I need. You won't be able to escape this shared hotel. You never will. It will linger with you, the taint of the men who used your body, the stench of cum that slathered over your chest from a good time, the joy you felt whenever they plunged in and out. It will never leave, and you should be ashamed for getting this far."

"Well," she said, "I'm gone now. All my debt has been paid."

"And how do you know that?"

"I have a receipt!" she shouted, pulling the paper from her breast pocket again. "This says I no longer owe you anything. I kept this receipt and have been paying it off to its terms. The terms are done."

"I could just kidnap you, then," she replied. Hastark generosity only gets so far, but cruelty can go so much farther."

"You wouldn't," Emilia said, staring her straight into the eye. I never felt so intimidated for someone else in my life.

The whoremaster blinked her sheepish eyes, sighed. "You have a point," she said. "I can't run dirtier money than what I do now. Running prostitution is one thing, but kidnapping women off the streets? I'd get arrested. Consider yourself lucky, Emilia. You no longer have any debts to pay."

I wanted to cheer.

"We're leaving," she said, and headed out the door. Quiet as a feral rat, I stepped out with her, onto the streets. The sun readied to rise on the planet, and the sky was blue with early sunrise. It was almost as beautiful as her.

"That felt good," I said, "Huh?"

"Never felt more alive," she said. "I felt almost dead before meeting you, Rivaine. That razor in there? You were right: It actually was for taking my own life. But you almost doing it made me stop myself, and then you showed me kindness no man had before." She chuckled. "Plus, you have a way with your cock."

"Damn right," I said. "I hope so, I've at least twenty women's experience before."

"And more with men for me," she replied. "But why would you want to spend forever with a soiled woman?"

"I'm a soiled man," I said. "I've been ruined many times before. But you're worth the best, and I can only hope I can match that."

"I'm worth you," she said. "Are you worth me?"

I stayed silent as we walked through the streets, to my apartment. I didn't know how to respond. If I was worth her, then did that mean she deserved little or was I what she deserved? I pondered it, as we headed into the dark cold room and headed to bed, before we embraced in love a second time, a free love that we could feel in safety. I would answer her someday. It would be a yes, yes. I hope so.right, and she would love every second of it before she would have her freedom.

I kissed her again, caressing her thigh, before gripping her ass. "Oh, you're beautiful," I moaned lightly, "and so smart."

"Oh," she said, and giggled, "grip me like a rein."

I nodded, though the thought of comparing her body to the reins of a saddle-animal was odd. Whatever made her mind blossom, I guessed.

I gripped her, rolled her over, pulled slowly on her lace. "You don't mind if I take this off," I asked, just in case she said no. "No," she replied, and she helped shimmy out of her own clothes. I did the same, and soon we were two naked Hastarks, with only the fur on our skin to hide ourselves. She had a gray back, hidden by her white lace, and I rubbed my hands on her back, massaging her skin with my calloused hands. Working in a factory did that to them, but it made for more sensual touch. Already, with the warmth of our bodies, I felt a sweat build, and I smelled stress coming off from me.

"You're sweating already?" She asked, looking back to me.

"I'm stressed," I said. "I've done it more rote before, the sexual pleasuring, but I'm nervous I'm not doing it right."

"Oh, you're doing it right, alright," she said, "Just move a bit further down, to my thighs. I have a knot down there I need untensing."

I moved to her thighs, rubbing in them with my fingers and knuckles deep. With her fur and hot skin, her throbbing pulse, her everything, I felt a dripping of precum from my cock. Spirits on soil, this was hot. If only I could take her right, then.

"Drag me to you," she said, moaning and giggling with her words, "pleasure me, please."

I did so, by gripping her by the hips and pulling her along. Her entrancing body caught my eyes, and I didn't know what to do next. But I wanted to play this out as long as I could. With my hands, I played with the lips of her labia, before flicking her clit with my palm. She started tensing, squirming, and moaning in ecstasy.

"Faster, finger me too," She whimpered. "Oh, yes, yes, yes."

Keeping my claws down as low as possible, I ran two fingers around the edge of her cunt, before slipping them in. She gasped in pleasure, and cried "deep, deep!" I fingered faster, pleased she wanted me so. It felt amazing to be wanted. No other woman, not even the previous prostitutes, made me feel as wanted as she made me feel in that moment. I needed Emilia in my life, as much as I could.

"Oh, fuck me alrea--unh!" she cried out before she shuddered, arching her back. I got her to orgasm, and she convulsed on the bed gasping in every euphoric breath. But, like she wanted, I would--if she was going to be okay!

I couldn't help but watch as she recomposed herself, her slightly tearing up from the force of her climax. Her claws had extended, a sign of copulation enjoyment in ancient Hastark, but her toes claws did too, which meant she had such an intense orgasm it activated her fight or flight. She laid on the bed, stunned for a second, before she came back to.

"Good god," she moaned, "that was strong. They've never felt that good. I almost panicked."

"Probably because the pleasure wasn't a sign of enjoyment before," I said.

"It was always forced upon me," she said, "and it felt even worse when it happened against my will. I had puked before after forced orgasms."

"Are you sure you want to get fucked?" I asked. "I don't want to hurt you."

She seemed half as stunned by me saying that. "You sure?"

"If you get upset," I said, "because of my own pleasuring, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. How would I live knowing I hurt someone as precious as you?"

She rolled over, sat up in the bed. "Rivaine, honey, I know you care, but for you I want you to have that strong of pleasure as I did."

"Are you okay with that?" I asked.

"You care too much. You never cared this much with the others."

"I didn't know they wouldn't have wanted too either. Spirits on soil, how many people have I hurt?"

She was standing up now, her claws clicking on the floor. "Not now," she whispered. "Cum inside me. For me?"

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Lay on your back," I said.

She did so, and I picked up her legs from underneath.

"Oh, that's a good position," she said, and she slightly tensed when I lifted them up past my hips. She recognized what I was doing, and when I climbed upon the bed she was laughing. "Oh, you're doing the mating press. That's not done a lot."

"I need your scent on me," I said, before prodding her. "I need your everything, no matter how crazy I am. I need you, Emilia."

"And I need you, Rivaine," she replied. "But stick yourself in already!"

She was so wet I slipped in without effort. I slammed her hips and pussy with my own, thrusting as fast as I could. Her moans came out in quick bursts, with every jump of me onto her. I neared, so quickly too. It felt comfortable, like a warm home in the middle of winter. An oasis in the desert, a lush paradise in a world of ruin. I teared up and tensed as I quickened my pace.

"I'm cumming!" she cried again, and her legs pulled me in, and her hands dug into my back. In my orgasm I pumped once, twice, three times into her cunt, before pulling out and letting my ejaculation shoot onto her chest. Some came upon her breast, and she giggled at the sight.

"Oh, you're a thick guy," she said. "I came again during that, but without all the shock. It felt comfortable."

I laid on my side, recovering. I had to recover, to not run away, to not feel the fear of the mess I made like a feral dog. I was so scared, the feelings I felt, the wants I wanted.

"Yeah," I shuddered, "I heard."

But I recovered, and we cuddled. We laid in the loving embrace of each other, covered in sweat and musk from one another. She loved me, clearly, and if she didn't it was the best ruse, I ever willingly partook in. I loved her, and I knew that. I wanted her to be my only, and I knew she wanted me to be the same. How much I desired her charms, her beauty, her intelligence. I never met anyone like her before.

"You're amazing," I whispered into her ear. "But now comes the time we get you out of here."

"You're really doing it, huh," she said, and flicked some cum off her tit. "You already let me get out of here before, by being my last patron. What do you have in mind?"

"Where are you going to go after tonight?" I asked. "And what happens when you cancel your stay early?"

"Well, I get reimbursed half of my payment," she said, "and I planned to do this a bit more to make money--"

"You'd be in the same trap that made you miserable," I said. I gripped her shoulders, and put my head to hers, locking eyes with her. "You can't keep doing this. You need a way out, and not to rely on it."

"And if I cut my stay early," she said, the gears in her mind turning, "I can get a bit of extra money for you. As thanks--"

"All I ask is that you stay with me," I said. "My loneliness is vaster than a dry desert and as desolate. I cannot handle another night alone, and I assume by that razor neither can you."

She looked down. "Right, yeah."

"So, we stay together, and get out of this trap. We find a better job for you, using your smarts, and we get out of this cycle. What do you say?"

Her eyes seemed to glow from joy now. She had hope, for the first time in years. "I'll take it. I'll take you whenever, but I'll take this once in a lifetime chance. Oh, spirits on soil, am I going to get out of here!"

I agreed. We readied to leave, her packing her things and showering. We showered together, and I helped clean her off. We threw the razor out the window, probably dangerous for others but we were safer as a result. We mixed our scents, wore each other's fragrances, and we kissed on the bed a second time. It was a true a love as any, and by Zinnia customs the sharing of fragrances was a proposal sign. I explained it to her. All she could do was chuckle and smile.

"That's not a problem for you?" I asked.

"Not at all, handsome," she said.

My heart warmed. We left to check out, heading down the hall past all the rickety rooms, and into the luxurious lobby, where the whoremaster stayed and worked. She was a burly tabby-cat, thick and wide, and was originally a prostitute herself before she 'moved up the ranks.' She was my first partner in the carnal pleasures.

"We're checking out," I said.

"We?" she said, her eyes widening. "You're leaving with Emilia, Rivaine?"

"Of course," she said in my steed.

The whoremaster squinted at her, before turning to me. "You know, I can raise your debts whenever I need. You won't be able to escape this shared hotel. You never will. It will linger with you, the taint of the men who used your body, the stench of cum that slathered over your chest from a good time, the joy you felt whenever they plunged in and out. It will never leave, and you should be ashamed for getting this far."

"Well," she said, "I'm gone now. All my debt has been paid."

"And how do you know that?"

"I have a receipt!" she shouted, pulling the paper from her breast pocket again. "This says I no longer owe you anything. I kept this receipt and have been paying it off to its terms. The terms are done."

"I could just kidnap you, then," she replied. Hastark generosity only gets so far, but cruelty can go so much farther."

"You wouldn't," Emilia said, staring her straight into the eye. I never felt so intimidated for someone else in my life.

The whoremaster blinked her sheepish eyes, sighed. "You have a point," she said. "I can't run dirtier money than what I do now. Running prostitution is one thing, but kidnapping women off the streets? I'd get arrested. Consider yourself lucky, Emilia. You no longer have any debts to pay."

I wanted to cheer.

"We're leaving," she said, and headed out the door. Quiet as a feral rat, I stepped out with her, onto the streets. The sun readied to rise on the planet, and the sky was blue with early sunrise. It was almost as beautiful as her.

"That felt good," I said, "Huh?"

"Never felt more alive," she said. "I felt almost dead before meeting you, Rivaine. That razor in there? You were right: It actually was for taking my own life. But you almost doing it made me stop myself, and then you showed me kindness no man had before." She chuckled. "Plus, you have a way with your cock."

"Damn right," I said. "I hope so, I've at least twenty women's experience before."

"And more with men for me," she replied. "But why would you want to spend forever with a soiled woman?"

"I'm a soiled man," I said. "I've been ruined many times before. But you're worth the best, and I can only hope I can match that."

"I'm worth you," she said. "Are you worth me?"

I stayed silent as we walked through the streets, to my apartment. I didn't know how to respond. If I was worth her, then did that mean she deserved little or was I what she deserved? I pondered it, as we headed into the dark cold room and headed to bed, before we embraced in love a second time, a free love that we could feel in safety. I would answer her someday. It would be a yes, yes. I hope so.