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As Zwilt reported, he kept his eyes on Vilaya's tail, swishing over her bed of grasses and skins, ruffling the furs beneath her. Rabbit furs, squirrel furs, even a fox fur from some minion who'd disobeyed once upon a time; all well-cared-for and invitingly soft, but none as silky-soft and beautifully groomed as Vilaya's own. She positively glowed in the candlelight of Althier's throne room, black fur shining in warm yellow light, and this close up the jasmine water rubbed behind her ears served only to accentuate the musky scent of her own body. It was summer, and breeding season. In the June heat, Vilaya the Sable Quean was in her *own* heat, and Zwilt couldn't possibly miss it. She was uncharacteristically fidgety, rolling and stretching in her pillowy pile, making a rumbling purr deep in her chest. A goblet of wine sat beside her, ignored. Her purple silk cloak was wrapped around her and, from the way it draped, he was quite sure she was wearing nothing underneath. As he talked, she barely seemed to listen to good news or bad (more new recruits arriving, several prisoners dead and their leverage lost).

"Majesty, are you listening to me?"

She didn't even care about his rudeness. Her paws entwined in the edges of her cloak, as if she needed it to restrain herself, and she didn't look at him. "If it's not urgent, it doesn't matter, and if it is, you should make your delivery more interesting."

Zwilt bristled. "Yes, Majesty."

It was then he made up his mind that he'd have her, right there in the throne room. Neither the adder fangs at her throat nor her own fangs in her mouth would put him off, and she'd thank him for it afterwards, he was certain. Both Queen and Quean she was, and quean was just another word for whore.He stood up from where he knelt before her and stepped up to the dais, taking the two steps with one bound. At that, Vilaya turned to look at him, surprised.

"What are you-?"

"Majesty, is Dirva not at your side today?"

"She's off mixing potions," Vilaya said with a scowl. "Accursed summer, I can hardly think. Perhaps she'll be able to bring me some relief."

Zwilt hid a smile. Relief from him would be far preferable to some slimy herb concoction boiled up by a dried-up old rat-witch. He knelt by the side of the stone throne. "May I assist you instead, then? Summer heat can cause dreadful headaches, I know. Please, Majesty, permit me to ease your burden."

He seemed to have fooled her; she lay her head on the seat's arm, and he stroked her brow gently, back and forth, admiring the silvery shine of her undercoat in contrast with the golden above. He was a sable too, of course, but his fur was closer to brown, not Vilaya's deep polished black from tip to tail. Besides, even another sable couldn't resist petting fur so soft. Peculiarly to their species (and to moles, though he didn't care about that), the fur remained smooth whichever way he stroked it, lying flat however he tried to ruffle it. He took advantage of this, pressing his fingerpads into her temples and massaging gently. Her purring deepened as his paws travelled down to the scruff of her long, graceful neck.

"Ohh, that's good..."

Zwilt shifted around to her side to reach her shoulders without looming over her face, wanting her to stay at ease. "There, Majesty, relax. Doesn't that feel good?" How he longed to bite that scruff, sink his teeth in and tear that silky fur so nobeast who saw her would ever forget he had. Just being so close to her was making his sheath swell, his tip emerging. He inhaled as quietly as he could and continued rubbing her shoulders and neck, feeling her going limp under his paws. Her eyes closed, and she seemed relaxed enough not to notice what he was doing; when he gently pushed her, she rolled to her side, and he was able to reach the clasp of her cloak and unfasten it. Wanting her to stay oblivious for the moment, he let her flop back over to her front, but the brief glimpse was enough to confirm she was wearing only the cloak. What a slut, he thought to himself.

"Mm..." Vilaya reached down to her cup and felt around, her eyes still closed. She got hold of the goblet after a little fumbling and held it up to Zwilt. "Drink?"

"Oh, many thanks, Majesty," he said softly, still petting her neck. He raised the goblet. "A toast to your power, and your beauty." He knocked back the cup in one go and put it back down. With both paws free, he decided it was time to act; he held Vilaya's shoulders down and jumped up to straddle her.

"What-?"

"Shh." Zwilt ground his hips on her back and kissed her neck, then started unfastening his belt. "Shh, you know this is wh-what you... want... ugh?..."

Everybeast knew of Vilaya's necklace and the poison in its fangs. Zwilt reflected, as he passed out, that he really should have kept an eye on her finger-rings as well.

~

Zwilt was less astonished to wake up almost naked and tied to Vilaya's bed in her underground chamber than he was to wake up at all. The waking up wasn't necessarily a good sign, he knew. It just meant Vilaya had plans for something less quick than death. While he was alive, though, he resolved to enjoy his location. Rough ropes bound all four of his paws tightly and scraped his skin raw, marking his lovely fur, but the bed was spread with pelts as soft as those on the throne, and the small room had no windows, only candles. The scent of Vilaya's heat was even more intense in here, and Zwilt's mouth, which had been dry with fear, filled with saliva as he breathed in as deeply as possible.

"Good morning."

Ah, here came the consequences of his actions. Damn. Zwilt sighed and turned his head to see his Quean standing by the bed, cloak re-clasped but open and showing her puffy vulva (not her nipples; her fur was too thick for that). In her paw was a very sharp and very shiny knife.

"I don't suppose that's for the ropes?"

"What do you think?"

Zwilt didn't waste his breath with an answer.

Vilaya toyed with the knife, shaving slivers off the tips of her claws. She climbed onto the bed and sat between Zwilt's legs; he raised his head to keep his eyes on her. Now he was worried more than his throat might be at stake. All she'd left him in was his linen loincloth, and its protection seemed decidedly inadequate in the face of the razor-sharp knife.

"Presumptuous," she murmured to him. "Treacherous. A Ravager wishes to become a ravisher?" She laughed. "You know this can't go unpunished..."

She held the knife up, and swung it downward. Zwilt the Shade, the most skilled assassin of the Ravager horde, fearful of nothing until this moment, flinched, squeezing his eyes shut...

He heard a snicking sound and felt the cloth unwind from his waist, and Vilaya laughed again. When Zwilt opened his eyes, she was pulling the loincloth away, the knots cut. She caught him blinking at her, and said "Well, why would I punish myself? You were right about one thing. I do want this. But *my* way."

The threat of the knife had made Zwilt's hopeful semi-erection disappear rapidly; Vilaya set about remedying that, groping and gently kneading his balls, breathing hotly onto his sheath. Her paw-pads were almost as soft and smooth as her fur, and the chittering rumbling sound she made caused her breath and whiskers to vibrate teasingly on him. It took several minutes for him to relax enough for her to make any progress, but eventually, when the knife didn't reappear, his shaft started to peek from his sheath again. Vilaya seized the opportunity and put her mouth over the bare flesh, sucking hard as if she could draw the whole thing out like cordial through a straw. The pressure was harsh and she was careless with her teeth, but Zwilt didn't mind it rough at all. He hissed through his teeth and arched his back, and when he tried to push further into her mouth she drew away, leaving him untouched and gasping.

"Now you might be of some use," Vilaya said, moving to sit in his lap. Her pelt brushed his furless cock, light as thistledown, but he was so worked up he felt it as strongly as he had her tongue. He clenched his jaws and paws and took deep huffing breaths through his nose, trying to calm his racing pulse; if he came and rendered himself soft again before she'd had her pleasure, the knife would most certainly be back.She slid down, and her insides felt as cloudy-soft as her outsides, and he almost lost himself anyway.

"Well?" she demanded, ears flicking. "Are you any more use than that, or should I just find a use for the knife's handle as well as its blade?"

"I... just a moment, Majesty... ahh..." Zwilt bit his lip and rocked his hips experimentally, slowly, then faster. "Please do tell me how best I may please you."

"Ha! You need me to, indeed. You're a fool, but a marginally more useful fool than the others." Vilaya pushed back against him, slipping her hips up and down his shaft while her swan-like neck held her head still, right next to Zwilt's face. Her paws slid through his fur and pinched his nipples, making him chitter and purr like she had. "Move harder! Be forceful! You wanted me to submit! Show me there's anything there to submit to!"

Zwilt's eyes, usually dead-black, blazed indignantly as he threw all his strength into his movements, driving into her with the force of a battering ram. She seemed to absorb all his efforts, body bouncing, tail thrashing, grinning and panting and clawing at his chest.

"Yes! Better! Keep going, like that! Keep fucking me, keep trying to mark me inside! Keep trying and know you never will!"

In the heat of the moment she forgot Zwilt's head wasn't restrained; he craned his long neck up and sank his teeth into her shoulder. Just for a second before she shook him free and slapped him across the face, but he tasted blood, and he'd forever know he had. That was enough to make him grip the ropes white-knuckled and double his effort, thrusting into her in a wild frenzy, gasping and swearing, desperate to get her off before himself, and by both luck and force, he succeeded. Her orgasm seemed to surprise her as much as him, and she fell forward, yelping, sprawling across him, just as he finished too and filled her up. When he felt the last drop squeeze out of him, he slumped back, panting, worn out. Vilaya, also dazed, looked up.

"Five minutes, then you're starting again."

He smirked. "Give me three."

~

An hour later, he'd fucked her through three more orgasms before he reached his second one. The candles were burnt out, the bedding was torn or kicked off or at least merely rumpled, and the ropes were pulled painfully tight on Zwilt's paws. Both their bellies were matted with come, their perfect fur spoilt, and it was starting to feel sticky and cold.

"I hate to spoil the moment, Majesty, but if these ropes don't come off soon all four of my paws will. I'm losing blood flow."

"Oh! Yes, I'll take care of that in a moment..." Vilaya got up and reached under the bed for fresh candles and tinderbox. With the lights back on, she was able to find her cloak, and put it back on over her messy fur for the walk to the bath. She turned back and started working on the knots.

Zwilt wasn't the kind of creature to grin widely, but he certainly wanted to. He'd won. He'd tangled with the beast and come out alive, and she'd wanted more. He'd been right all along, get a stiff dick in her and she'd fold like any other jill...

The ropes on his wrist loosened, but only slightly. The knots, when he tugged, felt stronger than ever.

"What the-?"

Vilaya finished up the last rope and opened the door. "Daclaw! Slopgut! Thwip!"

Evidently the vermin in question had been lurking outside, possibly on Vilaya's instruction, as they appeared quickly, blushing to their ears and looking away when they saw her state. "Yes, Majesty?" they mumbled in chorus.

"I'm done with him. You untie him." She looked back at Zwilt and smirked, teeth gleaming. "Don't be too quick about it now, if you catch my meaning."

"What?! No! I didn't agree-"

"What goes around, my dear," Vilaya said, picking up the knife and twirling it, "comes around."

The three males crowded around the bed, grubby paws groping and grasping.

"By the fur, it's true what they say," breathed Slopgut. "Even this filthy, 'e's like touchin' a cloud!"

Daclaw sniffed. "Just the smell of 'er majesty's cunt's more'n enough fer us, eh? Got a warm body that'll do right 'ere."

"I've gotta try somethin'." Thwip started unlacing his trousers. "If 'e's this soft on the paws..."

As Thwip grabbed Zwilt's fluffy tail, Slopgut's weight indented the mattress, and Daclaw shoved the remains of Zwilt's loincloth into his mouth, Zwilt gave up on struggling and saved his energy for planning how what had gone around this time would come around back to Vilaya very soon. Meanwhile, Vilaya waited for Dirva to draw her bath, pictured what was happening in her room, and made use of the knife handle in the way she'd threatened before.