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Royal Cock

Chapter 44

Prince Adrian didn't mind fox brothels so much anymore. When his son opened the first one twenty years before, he was furious. In doing so, Florian had robbed his subjects of their right to slaughter those foxes in defiance of King Etienne and his foolish and naïve ban on the Hunt. Because of Florian, nobles everywhere turned their back on Adrian and his family. Because of Florian, it had taken Adrian twenty years to regain the trust of his allies. Because of Florian, it was only now that Adrian was able to rally any sort of decent army against Varimore. Sevra was already in his pocket, and Krodor and Maldoene would soon fall in line. Poston was relatively small beside Curith and would scatter easily enough should its key players take a hit. And if everything went according to plan, the queen of Idria would be found facedown in her bath the next morning, leaving her brat son on the throne with a parcel of bickering nobles vying to pull his strings, and it would be a small matter, moving in and taking control of that land. As for the remaining two kingdoms? Kingdom Farnod and Kingdom Balsaro would fall in line, uniformly and quietly.

Kingdom Balsaro was ruled by a bunch of frilly Affenpinschers, whose royal family worshipped the goddess Zihma. The kingdom had been sacked so many times by so many rival kingdoms - including the desert kingdoms - that it contained the most diverse gathering of breeds in the empire. Its army and economy were constantly in fragments, for each time they drove invaders out, they barely had time to recover before another opportunist arose, and in this manner, Balsaro remained weak and constantly in mourning. The royal family of Balsaro had been living underground as part of a rebel faction for many decades, emerging in times of peace only to go into hiding when the kingdom was attacked all over again. Balsaro was often referred to by the other kingdoms as The Kingdom of Woe and with good reason. It had long been taboo for the high king of Varimore to set foot in the place, for fear the misfortune would rub off on him.

Kingdom Farnod was considered the sister kingdom of Balsaro, though - ironically enough - it was known as a place for its good fortune and joy. It was ruled by an upper class consisting mostly of golden Aidi dogs, who stood as constant guardians alongside Balsaro. Kingdom Farnod was the reason Kingdom Balsaro never stayed conquered for very long. It was often said that if invaders could just get rid of Farnod, they could finally take Balsaro for good. The royal family of Farnod were green-eyed golden Aidis who worshipped the goddess Eden. King Basile had a very fetching daughter who Adrian had been considering as a replacement wife. His current wife - Florian's miserable mother, Princess Sophie - hadn't touched him in something like five years and it was time to be rid of her. Perhaps her and Florian both. He would have to kill them quietly and make it look like an accident. The both of them had too much information, knew too many of the Carrington secrets to live. Then he would be free to take Princess Anna Maria for his wife. She would rule with him on the throne of Varimore and bear him many pups. He just needed to take Varimore.

Adrian sat naked on the steps of the bath, the water slapping softly around his ankles, as he thoughtfully smoked a cigar. His fingers winked with rings, and the soft sack between his hard thighs rested heavily on the step as his ears pricked forward and back in his mane, listening to the distant strum of a whore's lute. Those who had known his father often said he was a younger replica of King Louis - much to his irritation - for he had the same red mane, the same sharp green eyes. Like the rest of his family, he was a red Andalusian hound, and his chest was white, as was his chin. He sat on the steps of the bath in the swirling mist of incense and candlelight, listening to the brothel whores giggle and gossip and thinking of Sophie, his wife, and the most dignified way to kill her. He didn't want Sophie to suffer. He didn't hate her. He was just . . . tired of her.

Adrian glanced up as one of the whores waded through the bath toward him. She was a lovely young vixen, like all the vixens in the brothel, and but unlike the other vixens, her fur was a unique golden color. She had bright silver eyes that winked like diamonds in the glow of the candlelight, and a gold ring was in her pink nostril. She was very voluptuous, all softness and curves, with large swollen breasts that knocked softly with her slightest movement, and a plump, high backside under her tail. She was the prettiest whore in the brothel. Her name was Itesha.

Itesha's long, golden mane hung around her shoulders and fell down her back smooth as silk as she emerged from the water with dripping pink nipples. She was completely naked, but if she weren't in the bathes, Adrian knew she'd be wearing nipple tassels and a transparent veil for a skirt. She looked at Adrian with hooded eyes as she crawled up the steps and between his thighs. Adrian closed his eyes as her wet little mouth devoured him in long, slow, gentle sucks and sweet, imploring, little kisses. He slowly hardened in her mouth, and as if encouraged by his arousal, she sucked wetter, slower, closing her eyes and relishing in every lick and taste. She was perched on her knees with her big breasts hanging down and her tail swaying back and forth in excitement. Her knees were spread and her backside pointing out, which only accentuated her curves. The walls were covered in mirrors, and looking across the bath, Adrian could see her pink sex between her thighs, swollen with arousal for him. There was nothing Itesha loved more than to suck a dog cock, especially royal cock.

Adrian closed his eyes and brought his cigar back to his lips. Itesha was pleasuring him almost desperately today and he knew why. She had been begging him for weeks to please purchase her from the whorehouse -- her and some other vixen who he suspected was her lover. The mistress of the brothel was cruel to the whores, some fluffy Akita bitch from the northern realms who'd come to the nine kingdoms and struck a fortune by hunting foxes and forcing them to prostitution. Apparently, she took Florian's idea and expanded upon it to cruel lengths. Florian treated his whores like valued beings who were protected and cared for. But Madame Chu? She was a tyrant, whipping the whores and threatening to skin them. Some of them she did skin to frighten the others into submission, others she sold to be skinned.

Madame Chu was famed in Curith for restoring the Hunt behind Etienne's back. She ran the brothel under the pretense of just whoring the foxes out - which wasn't entirely illegal at the moment - but paid foxhound hunters under the table to bring her skins as well as whores. In this manner, Madame Chu continued to sell fox pelts to the nobility who couldn't get them otherwise and also employed the many hunt masters who had resorted to begging on the streets overnight thanks to Etienne's decree.

As far as Adrian was concerned, Madame Chu was doing a good thing and had his patronage. He came to the brothel - located in Finway, a city near Norwich - every chance he could get, and because of him, an excessive amount of coin from the castle treasury had covered the place in silks and finery. The whores were well fed and well cared for and by him. Adrian was disgusted each and every time they complained.

Adrian's family, of course, objected to his use of the whorehouse. Florian accused his father of taking his idea for a hospice and twisting it into something evil. In Madame Chu's brothel, the whores were treated like commodities and products to be killed and sold on a moment's whim. According to Florian, it was absolutely "ghastly," and Florian finished up by saying he hated his father before storming out in one of his fits. Then Sophie had run crying from the room, declaring that she just didn't know who Adrian was anymore.

Adrian doubted Sophie ever really knew who he was. They were betrothed at fifteen and married at sixteen, and even then, he'd spent more time with his sister than his own wife. Alexandria would have seen the necessity of such a brothel. Alexandria would have understood. In financing and backing Madame Chu's brothel, Adrian was employing dogs who would starve otherwise thanks to Etienne's decree. And really, why should he care about some fox whores getting skinned and fucked? He shouldn't. Anymore than he should care about geese having their necks snapped for his supper.

The whorehouse was simply known as Madame Chu's, and Adrian loved to come there because it was the one place in Curith where he could think and scheme without being disturbed. The pretty vixens strutting around naked were just a bonus. Behind him, two lovely red vixens stood, slowly fanning him with palm leaves in the steam of the bathes. They were both of them very young, with tiny tits and skinny legs. They had nothing of the curvaceous glory of Itesha, and as a result, were often given to menial tasks, such as standing around looking pretty as they held candles and lamps and fans and serving trays.

The whores knew better than to speak unless spoken to, but Adrian loved making them speak to him, because he loved hearing their pleas and cries for freedom. If they weren't begging "his majesty" to let them go back to their families, then they were begging that he at least purchase them and save them from Madame Chu, who whipped them and starved them for the slightest offenses. Adrian found it all deliciously hilarious, and he reveled in his power over them. When he had finally taken Varimore, he would litter Wychowl with vixen whores and get rid of all the male Beauceron slaves. He could never understand why Donica had insisted on male slaves while ruling Wychowl nor why her petty law had prevailed. In Curith, house slaves were always female and field slaves always male. That was the way of things. Only those males who liked male tail ever had male house slaves. Adrian shook his head as he thought of his uncle, who had always paraded around his male Akbash sex slave like some glorious prize. And even now, King Etienne was sitting in Wychowl, no doubt having his dick sucked by some male Beauceron slave.

Adrian's personal Akbash slave was a fluffy white bitch he'd had since he was seven. He went with his mother to purchase her, as it had come to the queen's attention that the easiest way to allow her son to discover female anatomy was through a slave. In particular, a slave who he had known for years and had thus developed affection for. The queen then purchased Pooki for seven crowns, a skinny and unhappy little white puppy who Adrian had picked from the crowd of other white pups solely because he liked her fluffy tail. Pooki was led from the musty cell in which Akbash children were kept between auctions and her leash was handed to Prince Adrian, who then took her home to Wandourg and made her his slave.

Like most Akbash, Pooki was for the most part indifferent. Seven-year-old Adrian would drop his toy in the lake and order Pooki to fetch it, and she always did so without complaint. She also never protested when Alexandria, out of pure jealousy, was cruel to her, pulling her tail and slapping her and even kicking her with her sharp little slippers on occasion. When Adrian was fourteen, he made Pooki give him oral pleasure every night before bed. He made a toy of her, feeling her sharp, budding breasts and tasting her nipples. When they were sixteen, he took her virginity -- both in her anus and in her sex - and made her climax from both places. By the time they were seventeen, he was banging her every night and leaving her mussed and dazed by the morning. Yet she always bathed, groomed herself, and had his breakfast tray ready for his convenience, no matter how late he kept her up. She was his willing slave, for though she seemed to remain indifferent, it became apparent to him that she enjoyed serving him. She laid his clothing out with love and care, she groomed him with careful fascination, she gave him oral pleasure with utter devotion, sucking him without stopping until he had climaxed and allowing him to ejaculate on her pretty face. The queen's mechanizations had worked: because he had Pooki, Prince Adrian never strayed, never fooled around with star struck nobles, and never defiled Sophie until their wedding night.

Adrian was beginning to think he should have done something similar with Florian, who was always for the most part alone. He thought with sadness of his son, who had spent his life in isolation, with no siblings, with no personal slaves, just his overbearing grandmother and weepy mother.

Adrian, meanwhile, had never been alone in his life. Princess Alexandria had been Adrian's constant companion growing up, and Pooki had been taken for granted by him in those early days. Yet after Alexandria's death, Adrian found himself taking Pooki everywhere, depending on her for everything - even affection and companionship - to the point that his own wife was envious.

Adrian felt badly for Sophie. When Alexandria was alive, he ignored his wife to be with his sister. Now that Alexandria was gone, he ignored his wife to be with his slave. The one female who was supposed to be the center of his universe was all but dead to him. For the duration of their marriage, he had often sent Sophie flowers and treasures but never bothered coming to their bedchamber to see her. He had insisted on keeping to his bachelor quarters and sleeping almost on the opposite side of the castle with Pooki in his bed. He did not and would never love Sophie. And Sophie . . . would always resent him for the fact.

Adrian wondered how Florian was and if Edgar Gaston had succeeded in securing him. Contrary to popular belief, Adrian did not hate Florian nor did he hate his son's same-sex activities. In truth, Adrian did not care what two males did in the same bed. It wasn't the act itself that disgusted him. It was the fact that these same males often shirked their duties as princes and kings for male tail. As royalty, one had to put all selfish desires and pursuits aside for the good of the kingdom. Adrian did not hate King Etienne because he slept with his male slaves but because he preferred to sleep with his male slaves over doing his duty in finding a wife and producing a proper heir. Princess Zeinara was no proper heir and everyone in Curith knew it. She was a half-breed fox bitch and an abomination. And if Etienne really cared about his kingdom, he would put his selfish desires aside, find a proper bitch to marry, and produce a proper child.

Adrian knew his duty clear as day and had known for years: Florian was a liability, Florian must obey or die. Adrian didn't hate Florian, but there could be no room for defiance, and Florian had defied everything - his father, the church, his destiny - at every turn. There were several years where Adrian felt nothing but resentment and embarrassment toward a child who not only publicly embraced fox savages as "equals" but also refused to marry on top of that. A real prince was willing to sacrifice everything - even his own happiness - for the good of the kingdom. Adrian thought he had taught his son this lesson but realized he must have failed him as a father. Florian was a selfish, spoilt little boy who refused to see the way of things. A prince must marry a princess. That was the way. But Florian refused to bend. He was stubborn just like his grandfather. And just like his grandfather, Adrian was not above letting him die. It was for Curith. It was all . . . for Curith.

". . . my prince," came Pooki's tinkling little voice in Adrian's ear.

Adrian glanced up to find his slave bending over his shoulder, her long white mane swinging down to veil to the side of her face. Her pink nose extended from the sweep of her mane, and her breath smelled sweet. It always smelled sweet.

"What is it, Pooki? Has Edgar returned?" Adrian muttered. He placed a paw on Itesha's head, silently urging her to stop. Itesha pulled her hungry mouth from his penis and knelt obediently in the water, her head down in a sulk. Adrian ignored her pouting and gestured one of the other whores near. The whore came to him with a tray of glasses and he took a one, the cigar still between his fingers.

"Yes, my prince," Pooki whispered. "He waits in the foyer."

"Good," Adrian said, swallowing a shot of vodka. "Does he have my son?"

Pooki cast her eyes down in response.

Adrian set his fangs. "What am I paying this idiot for!"

"Shall I send him away, my prince?" Pooki whispered.

"No, no," Adrian snapped and got to his feet. A vixen whore ran to him with his robe, her breasts jiggling as she helped him into it. Adrian tied the robe shut. "If he's come to me, he must have information. He'd _better_have information. Run ahead and tell him I'm coming."

"Yes, my prince," Pooki whispered. She backed away with a bow and hurried from the room with swaying hips.

Adrian stood at the edge of the bath, smoking the last of his cigar as the whores watched him hopefully. Whenever he left the brothel, he usually took one or two whores with him back to his room at the inn for the night. The whores always considered it a great opportunity to beg and plead that he should buy them. The stupid savages. Why should he buy them when he already had Pooki?

When he had finished his drink and cigar, Adrian waved in a beckoning gesture at Itesha, who perked up and followed him from the bathes as the other whores watched bitterly. Edgar Gaston was waiting in the foyer as Pooki had told Adrian, pacing back and forth in his scarlet cape. Pooki stood beside the brothel's front door with two Great Danes from Adrian's bodyguard, her head down and her paws folded.

Adrian took a seat on one of the benches against the wall and patted his knee for Itesha to perch on it. She did, keeping her eyes down and her mouth shut, as all whores had been trained to do. And as she sat curvaceous, soft, and naked on his knee, he stroked her golden mane and waited for Edgar Gaston to acknowledge sovereignty.

Edgar dropped to a reverent knee before Adrian and muttered to the floor, "My prince."

"And what news have you brought your prince?" Adrian asked wearily.

Edgar rose to his feet and took a step back, trying with all his might not to look at the naked beauty of the little fox on the prince's lap. He was a Great Dane, which meant he was huge, at least seven feet tall, with dark chocolate-colored fur that was almost black and small, watery black eyes. He was wearing the scarlet cape that the Honor Guard of Curith usually wore, but underneath he was clad in leather traveling pants and a jerkin, both torn. He also had bloody bandages glaring through the holes in his attire. Something had happened. The jowls on his long face wagged when he began to pace again.

"Calm down," Adrian said, irritated by the Great Dane's agitation. "And tell me what bloody happened before I lose my patience."

Edgar swallowed unhappily and stopped pacing. "Yes, my prince," he said and took a deep breath. "I don't quite know where to begin. I was on my way to Maldoene to rescue his highness the prince when I came across Maret's priest."

"Hmm," Adrian said thoughtfully. "The one Ayni warned me of. Did you kill him? The last thing we need is for him to help Zeinara get her half-breed tail back on the throne."

Edgar looked at Adrian sheepishly, and the prince slowly glowered.

"I tried, your highness, have mercy --"

"There is no try!" Adrian snapped over him. "There is only doing as one is commanded by his prince!" His body tightened, and he yelled so loudly that Itesha flinched on his lap. His paw absently stroked her mane to calm her.

Edgar dropped to knees and bowed his head.

"For the love of god," Adrian continued in disgust, "I gave you every means by which to claim my son, and you have continued to fail me again and again. Tell me right now why I shouldn't just have you strung up!"

"I deserve to die, your highness," Edgar humbly agreed and pressed his forehead to the floor. "I am a worm. I deserve --"

"Enough," Adrian sneered. "Tell me how Asres managed to escape your clutches. Then tell me where the hell my son is."

"Yes, your grace," Edgar returned meekly and sat up again. "The priest of Maret was not alone. Two others were with him. One was a young fox, who I mistook for the priest and attacked immediately. The second . . ." he glowered as he thought of it, "was a large black dog, a Beauceron, very skilled in paw to paw combat. Even with magic on my side, I found I could not best him. He ran me through with a spear and left me for dead. It was by the grace of the gods that I survived. I put on Ayni's ring - as you instructed me - and it healed my wounds. My life was restored, and I continued to track Prince Florian to Maldoene."

"Yes, yes, just tell me where my brat is now," Adrian said impatiently. "And tell me that moron Jule has paid for this."

"The marquis was dead by the time I reached Maldoene, your highness," Edgar admitted to the floor. "Slain by Tabitha le Frey. Or so the whispers said."

"Hmm," Adrian said and thoughtfully stroked his chin. "More likely he was slain by whoever Etienne sent. Wouldn't make much sense for Tabitha to kill him, as such a thing would only jeopardize her position at Canderly. If Zeinara was truly in Maldoene at the time, as my little birds tell me, then Etienne would have sent someone to secure her in secret." He laughed bitterly. "The king and I do think alike, don't we? We might have been friends if he weren't such a fool."

"Jule's brother Simon McIntyre was ruling by the time I arrived, your grace," Edgar said.

"Ah," Adrian said and nodded approval. "Now that would make sense, wouldn't it? He likely had Jule murdered and blamed it on that Tabitha bint. Got to love royal politics." He smiled sardonically, his fangs winking in the glow of the candelabra.

"I thought the same, your grace," Edgar said, "but as I was pursuing the prince, I was intercepted by Etienne's assassin."

"Underdog," Adrian said darkly.

"Yes, Underdog," Edgar said with a dark nod.

Adrian swore under his breath. Etienne's little pet had been foiling his plans of invasion for many years now. What he wouldn't give to have that bitch's head on a pike. "Is it too much to hope that you at least killed her?" he demanded of Edgar.

Edgar nodded almost proudly. "I tracked the prince into the tunnels beneath the manor and to a shrine the marquis had been keeping there. The prince had already passed through the portal and Underdog was laying there in her own blood. Someone had beaten her badly. She was gravely injured and was trying to open the portal but could not find the right button. I beat her and interrogated her and she told me all I wished to know."

"Tell me!" Adrian snapped. "And be quick. I'd like to get to bed before dawn." He glanced at Itesha, whose sex was still swollen and aroused for him. She caught his eye and smiled seductively before dropping her gaze again.

"Yes, your grace," Edgar replied and drew himself up, very proud now. "She told me that the prince had escaped with Princess Zeinara and that I was too late, as the portal was shut from the other side."

"Where did the portal lead to?" Adrian demanded. "And why on earth didn't you follow?"

Edgar's face darkened. "Underdog was not alone. I stabbed her, but as I was turning away, a mastiff came out of nowhere and attacked."

Adrian went still. "A mastiff?"

"Yes, your grace. He was wearing the colors of Varimore. He must've belonged to Wychowl's Honor Guard. His eyes were . . . strange," Edgar said, gazing off as if haunted by the very memory. "He fought relentlessly, as if he was under some spell. Eventually, I subdued him, but I barely made it out alive, let alone unnoticed."

"And Simon has no clue you were there?" Adrian asked skeptically.

"None, your grace," Edgar confirmed.

"Well," Adrian said wearily, "that's one thing you did right."

"Two things, your majesty, as I have brought the mastiff with me," said Edgar and nodded to one of the Great Danes guarding the door.

The Great Dane nodded in turn and disappeared outside. When he had returned, he was leading a mastiff along with chained wrists and ankles. Just as Edgar had described, the mastiff was blank-eyed and unseeing, and he was indeed wearing the colors of Varimore. Varimore's roaring lion was on the back of his jacket, and his breastplate was smudged with blood and dirt. His long mane was loose and wild and fell around his shoulders and in his eyes. He looked empty, hollow . . . as if some distant entity had their paw up his butt. The mastiff shuffled into the foyer, and without a word, dropped to his knees before Adrian.

"Who are you?" Adrian asked the mastiff.

"My name is Guss," the mastiff replied in a soft monotone. "Guss Hoddle."

Adrian cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't expected an answer. "Why did you attack my assassin?" he asked next.

"She commanded that I prevent any and all from passing through the portal," Guss answered mindlessly.

"She?" Adrian repeated with raised brows. His eyes narrowed. "She who?"

"Hawkeye," Guss answered, staring straight ahead, completely still.

Adrian looked at Edgar for an explanation.

"Hawkeye was some vixen witch Simon hired to kill his brother, your highness," Edgar explained.

"Ah," said Adrian and his lips twisted in a wry smile. "So the three assassins crossed paths: Etienne's, Simon's, and mine. Did mine alone emerge victorious? Where is this Hawkeye?"

"Hawkeye was the one who attacked Underdog and left her for dead. I think she made it through the portal before it closed. I couldn't think to follow," Edgar admitted with flat ears. "I was too badly injured to think of anything but getting away. And for some batty reason, Guss Hoddle here followed me. Couldn't shake him off." He looked at Guss, caught somewhere between baffled and disturbed by his very presence.

"Hmm, so Guss is a thrall completely open to suggestion," Adrian said thoughtfully. "What finally made him stop beating you to a bloody pulp, I wonder? Did you perhaps scream for him to stop?"

Edgar bowed his head in shame.

Adrian sneered. "Of course, you did," he said and looked at Guss again. "This is powerful magic but sloppy magic nonetheless. This Hawkeye gave Guss a command and then relinquished her power over him without first lifting the spell. She must have been in quite the rush. He is a mindless slave, left to be commanded by all and any who order him about. . . . poor bastard. I could bind him to my will and my will alone with the right blessing from Ayni. He would work for me. And he wouldn't fail me. Which . . . means something terrible for you, doesn't it, Edgar?" Adrian smiled at the nervous Great Dane, who gulped visibly.

"I have only ever s-served his grace," Edgar began unhappily, "to the b-best of my abilities --"

"Stop your wheedling," Adrian sneered over him. "The best of your abilities has never been enough, has it? Maret's priest - a powerful sorcerer -- is in Wychowl right now, something which could have been prevented but was not thanks in large part to your fumbling. This powerful priest will aid and protect Etienne when I invade, possibly preventing my triumph. My son is also lost to some distant land and I have no _idea_where he --"

"I know where he is, your grace!" Edgar cried eagerly. He folded his paws in supplication. "If his grace would but spare my life --"

"Tell me quickly," Adrian snapped. "And then remove your cape. You do not deserve to die wearing it."

Edgar sadly and slowly started untying his scarlet cape. A tear gathered in his eye. Adrian coldly ignored his weeping as one of the guards came forward to collect the cape.

"The prince used the sh-shrine to enter the SummerValley," Edgar stammered and blinked out tears.

Adrian raised his brows. "Truly?"

Edgar nodded, the tears coursing down his face. "Underdog said he went with Princess Zeinara. She likely convinced him to side with her against you, or maybe she forced him to go --"

"All the more reason," Adrian growled, making Itesha flinch on his lap, "that you should have found a way to follow by any means necessary. Hawkeye - some vixen whore -- had the skill and determination to follow my son but you did not? Has the day finally come when _savages_are better hunters and assassins than Curith's own elite?" Adrian glanced at the nearest guard and nodded at Edgar. "Put an end to him. And be quick about it."

"P-Please!" Edgar sniffled as one of the guards dutifully drew his sword and approached him. "I'll go back! I would do anything for you - I LOVE you, your grace!" he blurted wretchedly.

Adrian blinked in surprise, and the guard bearing down on Edgar was also so baffled that he paused with his sword lifted. He looked at Adrian as if he didn't quite know what to do.

Adrian cleared his throat. "You what?"

"I love you, your grace!" Edgar shouted and crawled across the floor to Adrian. He leaned down, tears clinging to his lips, and kissed the prince's feet in desperate ecstasy. "I have always, _always_loved you. I would do anything . . . anything . . . to please you . . . to make you happy . . ." He kissed up Adrian's bare ankle, and the prince kicked him off in disgust.

Adrian looked away. "Arrest him," he said to the guards, "and take him back to Norwich."

Edgar's eyes brightened when the guards obediently yanked him to his feet and shackled his wrists. He was frog marched out the door, smiling through the tears in his eyes, his mouth hanging open in disbelief that his life had been spared.

"Why did you spare him, my prince?" Pooki whispered, drawing near to Adrian's shoulder with softly riding breasts.

"Because Edgar has a hunger for royal cock," Adrian replied calmly. "He will do anything for me. Anything. A male like that is . . . quite valuable."

Itesha watched sadly as Edgar was marched away, and it suddenly occurred to Adrian that she pitied the fool. He pinched her chin and looked in her eyes. She had such pretty eyes . . . for a fox.

"What was it you wanted, Itesha, my pet?" Adrian asked softly. "Tell me. I am suddenly feeling very . . . generous . . ." He started kissing her neck, hungrily, eagerly, and her lashes fluttered.

"My p-prince," Itesha stammered, her head tipping back as the prince kissed and groped her. His fingers slipped between her warm thighs, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. "I-I asked his m-majesty to please purchase myself and my friend --"

"Your lover," Adrian corrected between frantic kisses.

"M-My lover," Itesha admitted with a blush as his kisses traveled to her nipple and gently suckled. Her head fell back. "My l-lover Opuma - H-Haaa!" she cried shrilly when Adrian slid his fingers deep between the swollen lips of her sex.

The prince withdrew his fingers and gently caressed Itesha's clit, watching with hooded eyes as her golden cheeks blushed scarlet. She was trembling and her pink nipples were rock hard. He caressed one of her nipples with the back of his fingers and felt the moisture when she oozed on his thigh. She cast her eyes down in embarrassment: she had wet his lap.

"Very well," Adrian whispered, gently rubbing his nose against Itesha's long neck. He kissed her fur and she trembled.

"You will?" Itesha cried in astonishment. "You will p-purchase Opuma and I?"

Adrian pulled back to look at her. "Yes," he said, touching her lip. "Go and get Opuma. And your things. The two of you will be entertaining me tonight. And possibly all morning."

"Oh!" Itesha cried happily. "Yes! Yes, my prince!" She leapt up, breasts bouncing.

Adrian slapped Itesha's plump backside to jiggling as she went. She squealed from the lusty slap, and he watched with narrowed eyes as she switched away, tail swaying. He took a cigar from inside his robe and lit up.

"Pooki," Adrian said, the cigar wagging in his lips.

"My prince?" Pooki answered at once, head down.

Adrian caught the cigar in two fingers, sucked, and exhaled curls of gray smoke. "The silk rope is still at the inn, is it not?"

"It is there, my prince," Pooki answered.

Adrian crossed one leg over the other, looking very tired as he took another hit from the cigar. "And the skinning knives." He exhaled smoke through his nostrils, not looking at Pooki as he peered thoughtfully down the hall.

"Yes, my prince," Pooki answered. "The skinning knives are also there."

Adrian nodded seriously and exhaled more smoke. "Good."