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Sheer Pleasure

Chapter 72

As with every morning since she'd been at Wychowl, Yeneneshe awoke in the garden, in the dirt, hoping against hope that all of it had been a dream. But it wasn't a dream. She was still in Wychowl - the wretched place -- and Nkwe was far away, Mogethis was dead . . . and King Damon was still trying to bend her over and take her.

The first time King Damon approached Yeneneshe was in one of Wychowl's many gardens, in the middle of the night, as she lay down in the high grass and flowers, crying herself to sleep. She missed Nkwe and Mogethis desperately and was blinded by her tears when she heard footsteps approaching. She went very still, knowing that it couldn't be Ettoras. The one who approached was clearly wearing boots, and Ettoras refused to wear boots - or, in fact, any of the clothing that was offered to him. It wasn't until Zeinara had white robes especially tailored for Ettoras that he changed out of the tight, torn pants he'd taken from Canderly. Now he strolled through Wychowl like an angel wrapped in silk and golden sandals. And indeed, with his magnificent wings and boyish demeanor, many of the courtiers called him just that.

No, that was not the sound of Ettoras' flat, golden sandals approaching. It was the sound of boots. Dog boots.

Suddenly determined not to cower in the grass, Yeneneshe lifted her chin and got to her feet, her fists clenched at her sides, her lips tight with anger. She had asked not to be disturbed, after all, and was ready to lecture whatever Honor Guard mastiff had fumbled across her, but she went completely still when she saw King Damon approaching down the garden path.

King Damon was a handsome black Pointer - handsome for a dog anyway, Yeneneshe thought - with piercing black eyes and a sardonic smile. Most everyone in the castle failed to perceive him as the true threat he was, with the exception of Zeinara, who seemed to loathe him as strongly as Yeneneshe did. Somehow, it made Yeneneshe glad, because she knew if she lost her temper and blew off Damon's head, Zeinara would protect her.

It honestly baffled Yeneneshe that so many within the castle blindly trusted King Damon. He had been suspected only years before of having orchestrated the murder of his older brother alongside Helene, who'd been married to Damon's brother at the time and had killed him to get out of the marriage. Damon was left holding the bag, and most believed for years that he'd committed the murder. And though incriminating evidence had been found against Helene after her demise, many still believed Damon had been a willing participant in his brother's "accident." After all, he had everything to gain from it and nothing to lose. He was now king of Poston and would soon have a paw on the world's reins through Sterling. He was the last beast anyone should have trusted, and yet he pranced around the castle with everyone doting after him. Yeneneshe thought they were all fools and was grateful that Zeinara, at least, had the sense to keep Damon under constant scrutiny.

King Damon approached with his paws behind his back, dressed in a black waistcoat with a dark blue shirt underneath. His pants were tight and black and flowered over his boots in the typical Poston style. His long black mane was loose around his square shoulders, and in his eyes burned with something between desire and delight. They traced over Yeneneshe's body from head to foot, and he licked his lips as if he'd noticed a delicious snack.

Suddenly self-conscious, Yeneneshe touched her mane and covered her breasts with one arm, her dark eyes glancing around for something to step behind. Unlike Ettoras and Kayya, Zeinara hadn't had any new clothing tailored for her, and when the princess of Varimore offered, Yeneneshe refused. Instead, Yeneneshe continued to wear the same dirty clothing she'd been wearing since the SummerValley: her brother's tattered bearskin coat and no pants. Her mane was a filthy white mess cascading around her in wild tangles that fell past her tail, and she was suddenly aware of her long, slender legs and how the coat barely reached her thighs. As King Damon drew near, she felt exposed and vulnerable, and she hated that he made her feel that way. She could practically smell his lust. All dogs were like that around her, treating her like an exotic curiosity, an object no more sentient than foreign pie. She was well aware of why: most dogs did not view foxes as anything more than dumb beasts, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"Look at you," King Damon whispered and lifted a lock of Yeneneshe's wild mane. "Such a pretty thing."

Yeneneshe slapped his paw off and he chuckled.

"Do you know who I am?" the king asked gently, as if he were addressing a child.

"Yes, I know you, dog lord," Yeneneshe snapped in her clicking accent. "You are the dog king of Poston. Should I care?"

The king chuckled again. "Ah. Now that I've heard your voice it's clear . . . you're from my lands. How would you like to go back? I could take you there."

"Or you could go to hell."

King Damon laughed again, walking a slow circle around Yeneneshe as he sized her up. "You have spirit, at least. Vixens with spirit usually suck cock rather well."

Yeneneshe felt her cheeks blushing furiously: Ettoras certainly seemed to think she was good. She wanted to scream. "Get away from me, dog lord," she warned in a low voice. Her lip curled when she felt him standing close behind her, so close that his breath tickled her ear. His paw smoothed up her thigh, pushed up her coat, and touched her sex. His other paw squeezed her breast. Her lips parted in surprise when his careful fingers glided inside her and she twisted to escape, but he was strong. He gently caressed her clit back and forth between his finger and thumb, and she felt it swelling and throbbing in response, getting hard and hot and pulsing from his skilled touch. She blushed now in shame. But she was trembling all over with arousal.

He pushed aside her mane with his nose and whispered in her ear, "I could fuck you better than that boy could. Longer. Stronger. Harder. Little kisses all over your soft, supple curves . . ." He smoothed his paw down the dip of her waist and over the rise of her hip, then pushed aside her tail and squeezed one of her high buttocks.

"Sss . . ." Yeneneshe wanted to tell him to stop, but his paws felt so good, she only managed a slurred hissing sound. Her head fell back against him and she sighed as he fondled and groped her, burying kisses in her neck that left her tingling all over. Her coat was open in seconds and her large breasts bare in the moonlight, high and blushing and jutting with tiny pink nipples. He groped them in both paws now, kissing up and down her neck in a sudden frenzy. She reached back and touched his face, but when his stiff cock brushed her through his pants, her lashes fluttered and she came back to her senses.

Suddenly furious, Yeneneshe elbowed Damon in the stomach, and when he had doubled over, she kneed him in the face. Blood flew, he went over like a sack, and at supper that evening when a shocked Judith asked him what had happened, he lied and said he'd tripped on the stairs. He then looked across the table at Yeneneshe, silently commanding her silence, and she smiled nastily and went back to her plate.

But King Damon wasn't going to give up so easily. He seemed determined to have Yeneneshe on his cock one way or another and even told her so to her face as they stood in the garden, in the moonlight. He thought it was a waste that she was "dallying" with Ettoras, who - according to Damon -- was little more than a child and hadn't any idea how to please a female.

When the king wasn't assuring Yeneneshe that he was more sexually skilled than Ettoras, he was offering her presents, silks, rings, perfumes - as if she cared about any of it. She returned every gift and told him flat-out that she had no intention of going back to Poston with him to be his whore. When he told her that she was a whore, she slapped him across the face so hard, her nails left red lines of blood.

"What more can you hope for in this world?" King Damon demanded angrily and dabbed his bloody face with a kerchief. "Don't be stupid, girl!" he snarled at her. "Foxes have spent an eternity in the dirt. I'm offering to let you live like a queen in my castle, and you're spitting in my face!"

"No, you're offering to let me live like a toy in a box," Yeneneshe returned darkly.

The king shook his head. "Ettoras can't give you the world, girl. I can. Think about it. Ettoras can not rule here - his blood is cursed. What do you think will happen when Etienne wakes up? Zeinara will maintain her place as future queen, she will marry my son, and you? You won't become queen of Varimore as Yfel planned - oh, yes, I know who you are," he added when Yeneneshe's face smoothed over with shock. "I know Yfel meant for you to rule here after her invasion succeeded. Only it didn't succeed, did it? And now your sister is dead --" Yeneneshe turned away, but King Damon grabbed her and snatched her back around with a toss of her mane. "Your sister is dead," he repeated through his teeth, squeezing her arms hard, "and your brother has abandoned you, and Ettoras is just a child with no magic, no immortal light to save his precious S'pru, let alone protect you. Now there's_no one_ to protect you --"

"I don't need protecting," Yeneneshe said through her fangs and shoved Damon's paws off.

Damon staggered back, but his lips curled in a smile and he looked at Yeneneshe with bright admiration. "No," he agreed, "my darling, you most certainly do not. I would like you to come to Poston with me just the same."

"No," Yeneneshe said flatly. "Touch me again and they will ship you home in pieces, dog lord."

King Damon chuckled. "It would be worth it," he said, staring almost absently into Yeneneshe's eyes, "to know the warmth between your thighs." With that, he walked away, leaving Yeneneshe burning and aroused.

King Damon never gave up and came to see Yeneneshe each night in the garden, making certain never to approach her during the day, as Ettoras came to see Yeneneshe in the garden every morning. The nightly arguments with Damon were a secret and a burden, as Yeneneshe did not want to worry anyone with what was happening.

At the same time, Yeneneshe could tell that Gallus, at least, seemed to suspect that Damon was making passes at her. She would be surprised if the king of Poston didn't leave his smell behind when he surprised her with a hug.

Ettoras also seemed to sense that someone was making Yeneneshe uncomfortable. He knew she carried a strange scent but never quite put two and two together. Yeneneshe was suddenly and eternally grateful that Ettoras wasn't exactly the brightest apple in the bunch. It would break his heart if he ever guessed that not only was King Damon approaching her for sex every night, but she enjoyed his groping. Damon was right: he was better than Ettoras. And she hated the fact.

If Ettoras ever found out, there was no telling what he might do. Ettoras was a peaceful soul, but Yeneneshe knew that underneath lurked a nasty temper. And if Gallus ever had his suspicions confirmed, he would sentence himself to a quick execution by hauling off and stabbing Damon with his spear.

To protect Ettoras and Gallus from themselves, Yeneneshe had to keep Damon's actions a strict secret. She finally decided that the best way to handle it was to promise King Damon that she would sleep with him - then leave the castle immediately after. After she'd made her promises, she would go to Asres and tell him she was unhappy and that she wanted to leave. Gallus would support her, as he was only too eager to leave the castle as well. Asres would want to stay behind and care for Etienne, so the timing had to be perfect: as soon as Etienne awoke, Yeneneshe would set her plan in motion.

Present-day Yeneneshe was passing through the garden on her way to breakfast when she overheard Azrian and Gallus talking in low voices beside the fountain. She backtracked through the flowers, ignoring the Beauceron gardeners who glanced at her with curiosity, and crotched in the rose bushes. Peering out, she could see Azrian and Gallus sitting together on the stone basin of the fountain. Azrian was - as usual - wrapped snug in her bearskin pants and coat, with her hood drawn up and her face practically obscured in shadow. Gallus sat beside her, black chest bare, wearing a deerskin skirt. Feathers were in his glossy black mane, and sitting beside Azrian, he looked more the wild fox than she. Azrian looked like a sleigh dog from the north.

". . . Asres thinks so," Gallus was saying.

Azrian sighed and seemed uncertain about something. After a pause, she said as if she were confessing some sin, "Asres is right. I am a child of Ti'uu: I can walk in dreams and come out on the other side. I have the power to wake Etienne. I . . . just don't want to."

"What? Why?" Gallus asked, completely baffled.

Azrian looked out across the garden, and Yeneneshe realized with a start that Ettoras was nearby, meditating under a tree. Ettoras came to the garden every morning before breakfast, and Yeneneshe usually met him there. If she took too long with Damon, he would wonder where she was. She had to move quickly.

"When Etienne wakes," Azrian said heavily, "he'll want to know why I kept Ettoras a secret. Ettoras is also angry with his father. He thinks Etienne should have come for me . . . the way Zeinara did."

"And you aren't ready for the arguing," Gallus said. He nodded. "I understand. But Etienne has to wake sometime, your highness."

Azrian smiled, and Yeneneshe knew she was sadly amused by Gallus and his insistence on calling her by titles. Gallus still viewed Azrian as the queen of Varimore and his mistress to boot. It was the reason why he feared her disapproval so greatly. Gallus would be eternally loyal to Azrian, to his grave.

"You're right," Azrian said. "I will . . ." she took a weary breath, "go to him."

Gallus smiled and put a sympathetic paw on her shoulder. "It will be alright, your highness," he said gently. "King Etienne loves you."

Yeneneshe bit her lip. If Azrian was going to wake Etienne today, then it was time to finally put King Damon and his sexual advances to an end.

Azrian and Gallus continued their discussion as Yeneneshe backed slowly from the rosebush. With bare feet, she crept silent as a ghost back toward the castle, keeping her head down and ignoring the Beauceron gardeners who continued to observe her. King Damon would be in his quarters preparing for breakfast. It was the perfect time to corner him, as he was too careful to raise Zeinara's suspicions by ever missing a meal and would, therefore, not attempt to take Yeneneshe before he had eaten.

Yeneneshe climbed the back stair that was usually reserved for the servants, her fluffy white tail twisting out behind her. The backstairs were spiral and two sets led up to the higher chambers, one from the kitchens and another set from the laundry.

Yeneneshe took the stairs leading from the laundry and noticed Beauceron slaves carrying fresh sheets up to Damon's quarters: the king of Poston was having his sheets changed. Yeneneshe was glad for the timing. If a gaggle of Beaucerons were standing about changing the bed, Damon would want to keep the conversation between them short, as he would not want to risk that any of the slaves were actually Zeinara's spies.

The Beaucerons seemed mildly surprised that Yeneneshe was following them to Damon's quarters, but none of them questioned her and all went back to ignoring her when Damon called from within that they could enter. The two dogs guarding the doors - two Pointers from Damon's own Honor Guard -- opened the doors, looking straight ahead, their expressions neutral. As Yeneneshe passed them into the room, however, she could feel their furtive stares, their smirks, their thoughts. They thought she was there to fuck King Damon and they were secretly leering about the fact. She wanted to haul off and smack the both of them with a fireball.

King Damon was sitting at a table in an alcove, wrapped in his housecoat as the morning sun streamed pale across his glossy black mane. His mane was loose and magnificent as ever around his shoulders. Yeneneshe thought he looked like a pointy-faced lion. The king was enjoying a shot of liquor as his white Akbash servant, Icarus, stood dutifully over his shoulder with a crystal decanter, ready to pour.

"Yes, yes, hurry and change the sheets, will you?" King Damon said to the Beaucerons who filed in. "I would like the bed immaculate by the time I re. . ." Damon's voice trailed away when he looked up to see Yeneneshe. He went entirely still.

Yeneneshe halted some feet from the table, feeling unnerved by the calm and curious stare of Damon's serene male slave. Icarus had a male beauty that was sort of boyish, his eyes gentle, his thick white mane tumbling in a cascade over one shoulder. His beauty reminded Yeneneshe of Ettoras, and somehow, looking at King Damon's tense face, Yeneneshe was reminded of Simon McIntyre.

"Ah. Good morning, my dear," King Damon said in a voice that was almost strained.

Yeneneshe couldn't understand why the king seemed so unhappy to see her. Then he gave his head a slight jerk, and she looked over and saw Judith standing at the window. Yeneneshe's heart skipped a painful beat. Like the king, Judith was wearing a housecoat, but it was open, and she was completely naked underneath. Her black body was thin but curved in all the right places, and Yeneneshe even caught a glimpse of her bright pink sex nestled in the fur. She was drinking what smelled like coffee from a teacup, and though her glorious black mane nearly obscured her face, Yeneneshe could tell that she knew someone had come - she just didn't care. She smoothed an absent paw over one of her naked breasts and took another sip of coffee, her lips curling into a small smile when Yeneneshe continued to stare in astonishment.

Now Yeneneshe understood why the sheets were being changed. She . . . didn't know what to think. And for several seconds, she couldn't move. All this time, King Damon had been sleeping with Judith. So why did he want Yeneneshe so desperately? Yeneneshe glowered: dogs.

"What can I do for you? I expect you've come to fetch Judith for her highness," Damon said in a pleasant voice that was entirely forced. It was clear he wanted Yeneneshe to just turn around and leave.

Suddenly very pleased by Damon's discomfort, Yeneneshe smiled nastily. "I came to make good on your offer . . . your majesty."

Yeneneshe had never called Damon by titles, and his brows went up in surprise. He stared at Yeneneshe a long moment, his dark eyes searching her face for the truth behind her sweet facade. ". . . yes," Damon said slowly, painfully aware that Judith was listening. "I offered you medicine for that condition of yours. Medicine from our homeland, Poston." Damon looked at Judith. "Darling, could you give us a moment? Yeneneshe has a rather embarrassing rash and I'm sure she'd rather not discuss it in front of you."

"Of course," Judith said with a smile, though her sharp hazel eyes searched the king shrewdly. She set down her coffee and tied her housecoat shut over her naked front. Her cleavage was pouring from her housecoat when she leaned down to kiss Damon on the cheek, and Yeneneshe would have been amazed by her shamelessness if she herself weren't standing there without pants.

Judith knocked on the doors, and when the guards on the other side opened them for her, Yeneneshe realized the ambassador was leaving her alone with the king, and her heart started thudding. The Beauceron slaves were also finished making the bed, and they left behind Judith. Now Yeneneshe stood alone in the room with Damon and Icarus, alone as sunlight streamed through the windows and birds outside chirruped to the morning sky. There was no telling what Damon might do now that they were alone, but Yeneneshe reminded herself that he wouldn't risk missing a meal.

When the doors had closed again, Yeneneshe turned to Damon, who was regarding her with his intense black eyes. Her face contorted. "You pig. You're sleeping with the ambassador but you come after me?"

Damon laughed softly. "I thought you were smarter than that, girl. The ambassador is sleeping with me._Judith has no real interest in me. She is merely protecting her king and seduces me to _spy for him and his beastly daughter."

"Don't talk about Zeinara that way," Yeneneshe warned, but she was surprised by her own words. She hesitated, then glowered when Damon chuckled.

"Taken a liking to Etienne's little tomboy, have you? I suppose I understand. My son says she has a sort of charm, and if she is to be my daughter-in-law, I suppose I had better learn to love her as well."

"You know Judith is just spying on you," Yeneneshe said, waving aside his comments about Zeinara, "but you sleep with her anyway?" She looked at him in disgust. "Waiting for the right moment to stab her in the face?"

Damon shrugged his massive shoulders. "No. At first I thought I could frighten her off by proposing marriage. When that didn't work, I simply figured . . . why turn away free head?"

Yeneneshe made a noise of disgust.

"Besides," Damon took a sip from his shot glass, "I thought I could turn her against Etienne. Make her spy on him for me." He set down the glass and tapped it, and Icarus dutifully refilled it from the decanter.

"Judith would never betray Etienne," Yeneneshe said with confidence. That was a fact. She had seen the ambassador fawning over the king's comatose body quite often in the last week. She was completely loyal and King Etienne seemed to be a friend she cared about a great deal. That she was spying on Damon by seducing him was hardly surprising in hindsight.

Damon only snorted. "Don't underestimate the power of a skilled tongue," he said and wiggled his tongue between two fingers to indicate.

Yeneneshe made a face. "Why tell me all this?"

"Because I know none of it matters to you," Damon answered at once. "What do you care if I scheme or if Judith schemes? You hate being here. You just want to go home, don't you?"

"I don't even remember Poston," Yeneneshe admitted. "I was very young when my tribe came here to Varimore."

"Yes," Damon said quietly. "I know." He didn't say more, just regarded Yeneneshe with his intense black eyes.

Yeneneshe couldn't read his expression and hated it. His mental defenses were also too strong for her to read his mind. It were as if he spoke to her from behind a wall made of steel. He sat there, muscular and powerful, his housecoat slightly open to reveal his hard chest, and she could feel arousal pulsing through her. She clutched in humiliation at her coat and suddenly wanted to turn from the room. That she actually wanted this insufferable_dog lord_ was excruciating and shameful to her.

"You came here to trick me," Damon said eventually. The shot glass was in his large fingers and he stirred its contents absently as he looked at her.

Yeneneshe's unapologetic eyes glinted and she lifted her chin.

Damon smirked. "You came to offer yourself to me, then promptly leave with your Asres and Gallus. I suppose I should at least applaud your attempt to cheat me."

"Cheat you," Yeneneshe hissed. "As if my body were merchandise!"

"It is merchandise," Damon said carelessly and took a sip from his shot glass.

Yeneneshe's breasts heaved behind her coat. "I would gladly slit your throat if I could get away with it!"

"I know," Damon answered with a flare of his nostrils, "and it only makes me want to fuck you more." He swallowed hard, looking at her with fiery hunger.

Yeneneshe's heart fluttered. "D-Don't s-say --"

"Wild, beautiful thing that you are. You want me to fuck you," Damon went on. "You've never been touched by a male who _knows_what he's doing --"

"Shut up!" Yeneneshe burst, blushing to her hairline. "I-I don't want . . ."

"Yes, you do," Damon said gently. "At first I thought I'd seduce you, take you away to Poston, make certain your tail never touches the Emerald throne that I intend for my son."

Yeneneshe glowered.

"Now I know you don't even want the throne. And neither does Ettoras, from what I gather," went on the king. "Not that he would last very long. Cursed blood, etcetera. If he were to rule, he would meet a messy fate, and you would burn at his side, along with your child." Damon tisked. "A nasty business, and completely avoidable."

"Get to the point," Yeneneshe said darkly.

"I have a proposition for you."

Yeneneshe folded her arms, waiting.

"Leave here and take Ettoras with you."

Yeneneshe's lips parted in surprise.

"Take the boy and go," Damon went on calmly. "It's what you were going to do anyway. I'll not have anyone stand in Sterling's way. Anyone. Not even your boy toy."

Yeneneshe's face darkened. "And if I don't leave?"

"I will bend you over," Damon slowly smiled, "and take everything below your waist."

Yeneneshe swallowed hard, and she felt both her sex and anus clench at his words. She hated that a tiny part of her wanted that to happen. Damon was beautiful and powerful and his skills weren't just boasting: she would never forget his fingers gently caressing her clitoris to a throbbing climax. Just thinking of it now had her clit throbbing between her thighs. She bit her lip and hated herself when she blushed harder.

Damon laughed softly. "Look at you, standing there thinking about my dick in you." He laughed again when Yeneneshe scowled at him, and he took another drink. "You can't even bring yourself to answer me, you're so busy daydreaming about cock --"

"I'm not!" Yeneneshe burst, feeling like a child.

"Then what will it be?" Damon asked quietly.

"What if I sleep with you and you leave?" Yeneneshe defiantly returned.

Damon looked at her in surprise. "Well now." He shifted in his chair, and it was clear he hadn't expected such a proposition. He tapped his empty shot glass again, and again, Icarus filled it.

Yeneneshe's lip curled. "Do you really plan on getting drunk before breakfast?"

"I plan to do a lot before breakfast," Damon said, his eyes tracing over Yeneneshe's body.

Yeneneshe's blush extended hot over her breasts, and she was glad Damon couldn't see it.

"I wanted to stay for my son's wedding. He's going to marry Zeinara if I have to fuck every ragged fox in the building," Damon said, tossing back the shot glass. He set it down and thoughtfully licked his lips. "Maybe even Zeinara's little red whore. The vixen with the big tits and the sweet smelling pussy."

Yeneneshe's fangs bared in a scowl: he meant Kayya. "Just answer me! If I do this, you will leave here immediately after, go back to Poston and never return --"

"Why? Tell me that," Damon said over her, and his black eyes regarded her with intense curiosity. "You don't care about Zeinara or what happens to her. Why should you care if I stay or go? You aren't even staying here yourself. You will leave here regardless."

"I . . ." Yeneneshe took a breath. "I do care about Zeinara. She's my friend . . . I think."

Damon laughed derisively.

"Do we have a deal?" Yeneneshe demanded irritably.

"If I leave, Sterling and Ethelyn will stay here," Damon said. "I brought them here to live, girl. Ethelyn is my eyes and ears. It would be no different than if I were here. I will always know everything."

"But you won't be here to make life difficult for Zeinara," Yeneneshe returned.

"Please. You don't care about her!" Damon said with an incredulous laugh. "This is about Ettoras. You don't want to be queen of Varimore, and you know if Zeinara is unhappy in her role here, she will run off with Kayya, and you and Ettoras will be forced to rule. Just as Yfel always wanted."

Yeneneshe glared to hear Yfel's name, glared because she knew Damon had mentioned the goddess just to anger her. She lowered her eyes to the carpet and suddenly felt very small. "I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it. I don't want to rule here - or to do Yfel's bidding!"

Yeneneshe's heart skipped a beat when Damon took her paw and drew her down onto his lap. "Yes, poor thing," he whispered, slowly unbuttoning her coat. "You just want to be free, don't you?" He pushed her coat open, revealing her high, pale breasts in the sunlight. Her pink nipples were rock hard and jutting. He looked at her breasts with soft eyes, then cupped one, hefted it in his paw, and massaged it with intense fascination.

Yeneneshe felt herself getting wet and a shudder went through her. Looking in a daze through hooded eyes, she could see Icarus still standing over the table, still holding the crystal decanter, as if he expected Damon to stop and order his glass refilled. His expression was neutral, and he watched what was happening with utter indifference. Yeneneshe thought he reminded her of Gallus in that moment, and she wished he would go away.

"Pretty, wild thing," the king whispered, his lips brushing hers. Then he kissed her, tongue and all, squeezing and massaging her soft, supple breast. He fingered her nipple as his tongue slipped deeper, then his paw smoothed along her curves and to her sex.

Yeneneshe trembled all over when his careful fingers glided inside her and he curled them in a massage that made her cry out in baffled delight. His arm closed tight around her, and as his hungry fingers continued caressing, his lips traveled down her neck. Yeneneshe fumbled to open his housecoat, and when the large brown cock was standing free in a nest of crumpled fabric, the king took her by the hips and guided her down on it.

A line of drool escaped Yeneneshe's gasping mouth as the king's enormous phallus slowly filled her, stretching the soft pink lips of her sex and holding them taunt. He looked her in the eye as it was happening, and she felt helpless and small and completely in his power, her coat open and hanging off her, her bare breasts trembling, her back flexing as he took her by the hips and guided her into riding him.

"Mfph," he grunted when her sex clenched strong on him. "Sweet lord, you're tight . . ." He grabbed her backside in fistfuls and helped her ride harder, deeper, until he was gasping and panting in time with her. Their gasping lips brushed as they moved together in the chair, and Yeneneshe could see the softness, the affection in his eyes. It surprised her. And without warning, he was kissing her again, fervently and hungrily on the mouth.

As they were kissing, his fingers found her clit and fondled it until she was trembling almost violently with arousal. Her head fell back as her hips continued grinding, and as he gently massaged her clit, she gasped at the ceiling and squirted in a helpless climax that left her blushing all over. He buried kisses in her neck and breasts as it was happening, his big paw cradling her as she leaned back.

Panting and trembling and weak, Yeneneshe dropped her face in the king's shoulder. She felt him rubbing up and down her back as he labored to catch his breath, and the feel of his hard chest against her soft breasts was wonderful. She clung to his neck, still trembling from the pleasure of it all, but she thought of Ettoras . . . and her heart filled with shame. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that she was doing this for Ettoras. Not for the sheer pleasure. . . right?

The king whispered in her ear, "Go lie on the bed and spread your sweet thighs." He smoothed his paw down her tail and slipped a finger in the tight knot of her anus.

Yeneneshe's heart fluttered. "W-Why? W-What about breakfast?"

The king smiled. "I'd rather eat your pussy."