FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Your highness, no! That is not the training quarterstaff!"

Tsarmina ignored her aid's protests and hefted the sharp shaft of hardwood in her paw, holding it out at arm's-length, measuring its balance and weight.

"The guards you sparred with last time have barely recovered, we cannot afford a further loss of-"

The staff blurred in a roar of air and scythed to within a paw's distance of the weasel's long, pointed nose. The creature leaped backwards, his legs shaking so badly he could barely walk.

"I am more than aware." Tsarmina twirled the staff, snapped it straight, then brought the metal-tipped end down hard against the flagstone floor of the training hall. The crack boomed into the high vaulted ceiling above and echoed from the walls. "I wish my armor."

"Your ar... but, you're, already..." the weasel whimpered, backing away.

"This is not armor." She ripped one of the flimsy training shoulder pads off, the leather tearing like paper, and crushed it in her paw. "This for cubs who play dress-up."

The weasel saw how thin the ice beneath his feet had grown. "At once, your majesty princess Tsarmina-"

The base of her staff struck the floor with another resounding crack.

The weasel scampered with a yelp of terror and ran for the barracks with his clawed feet scrambling on the floor.

That word. It grated at her. Her paw clenched the staff hard enough to define every one of the toned muscles in her arm. She relaxed with a slow sigh. She would not have to endure being addressed as 'princess' for much longer.

Her personal armorers arrived. A pair of astonishingly dependable canines with one, or perhaps two lots of wits between them, they were a rare enough occurrence for her to assign them permanently to the duty. She noted with satisfaction that it was in excellent condition and oiled and ready for battle at a moment's notice.

The process of replacing her training armor with the full battle suit, timed in her head, she estimated at around twenty minutes; moderately acceptable.

Its weight and prowess around her felt exactly right. The plates were flared at their edges and mostly the dark bronze of the castle arms, but the borders and edging were shining highlight gold. Intricately adorned, it had belonged to her mother, but the old queen had hardly ever worn it. Tsarminal smiled as they fixed the plates on - she would mean to change that. They left her tail free at her bequest; tradition said to bind it against one's back to reduce the risk of injury, but Tsarmina relied on speed and balance more than most.

Once free of the pair's methodical paws, she strode, then jogged, and finally broke into a sprint around the edge of the room. They'd bound it tight, and the plates barely uttered a creak or a clunk at all, exactly as she needed them.

She plucked the quarterstaff from the rack beside some far-more intimidating looking devices on the way past. She'd always valued its speed, versatility, and often severely-underestimated ability to maim and kill over other, clumsier weapons. It tore the air, ripping sound from its sharp ends, her nimble yet powerful frame flowing through the motions of a warm-up routine. When she came to a twirling stop, Tsarmina shouted to the weasel and her aids, "I want every soldier in the barracks in here, now!"

They knew better than to argue with a fully-armored lioness. The weasel scampered out of the door at a flat out run followed quickly by the two canines.

She watched the castle barrack file in two-abreast, gripping the staff before her, eying each of the heavy-set canines in turn. The commander of the guard came through last, barking orders left and right, lining his dogs up along the walls. "Yer in the presence of the princess ya mutts! Act like ya' know what respect is!"

Tsarmina met the captain's eyes. If there was any hint of recognition in the big canine that the lioness had licked and suckled his knotted cock and had swallowed his seed, he hid it utterly and completely.

She looked across their ranks and caught fear in some of their stares. She seldom wore her full battle armor and the sight was enough to set them rightfully on edge. Her paw lifted, she swept a clawed finger across the four directly in front of her, and set her stance to await them.

They shot glances at each other but knew better than to refuse. They came as a group, shoulder to shoulder, their wooden training staves held at the ready.

Tsarmina let them approach and held herself coiled. The room around them fell into tense silence, interrupted only by their heavy footfalls and the creaking of their training armor.

Her staff roared and shattered the staves of the two on the left. They flinched back, clutching their wrists, leaving the other end of her still-moving staff to sweep their legs out from beneath them and the backs of their heads to strike against stone.

The other two lunged, exactly as she knew they would. Her staff still in motion, she twirled in place and brought its momentum up across their exposed faces, gashing the unfortunate one closest to her and knocking his companion out cold.

Tsarmina burned with disappointment. She snarled at the four useless lumps at her feet, baring her fangs, angry enough to throw them back against the wall.

"Would my lady care for a more suitable opponent?"

All eyes darted over to the entranceway where soldiers were busy moving aside to let the speaker through.

Her snarl deepened, but a fierce smile played over her face.

Ninsen strode through in training gear. The big leopard's calm, confident smile greeted her, his bright amber eyes fixed her as he moved. He carried an identical quarterstaff in his gloved paws and wore a set of training armor reinforced with chain-mail bracers and shin-guards. He strode into the center of the room with her, ignoring the crowd, every bit the champion his reputation spoke of. Unlike the captain of the guard, the look in his eyes forcibly reminded her that she'd pleasured him like his girl of fancy, purring as she'd lapped the seed from his malehood, kneeling naked before him, letting his produce drip from her muzzle onto her bare breasts.

Snarling, Tsarmina brought her quarterstaff hurling round at him only to be parried with a bone-shattering clash of wood on wood. The sound cracked through the hall and made those closest flinch back. She twirled and landed five blows in rapid succession with both ends of the staff, but found Ninsen's own at the end of every one, the sharp cracks snapping one after another.

A crowd had begun to gather in the hall. The soldiers pressed inward, creating a circular ring around the two of them, and an assortment of staff and courtiers pressed against their backs and peered over their heads to watch.

Tsarmina kept up her offensive, twirling and darting to bring her strikes sweeping in from random angles and directions, her movements fluid and agile, her tail flicking and curving out for balance.

Ninsen parried her each time and began to throw blows back. The leopard was stronger and blocking his swings sent jarring vibrations through her bones.

Her anger ignited. The room darkened around him and his staff became her only focus. She threw herself at the fight, holding nothing back, and flickered into a blur of lightening fast strikes.

The metal tip of her staff found flesh and bone. The leopard twisted to one side, his balance gone, and Tsarmina seized the opening; she let the staff carry her momentum away to one side, twisted her hips, and slammed her foot dead-center into his chest.

He sailed bodily into the open space in front of the crowd. His back struck the flagstones with a thump of leather on stone and he flopped to a limp heap against the legs of the front row of soldiers.

Her snarl of rage pushed the crowd back; they bumped against each other, jostling to get away. The courtiers and servants ran for the door, scrambling over one another to flee.

Tsarmina gasped lung-fulls of air. The fire in her veins, the burn in her muscles, the tremble of her limbs: she reveled in it, elated and searing for more.

Ninesn shook his head and looked up at her from the floor. The line of soldiers behind him watched in barely-contained fear, their training armor knocking noisily against each other, their terrified stares darting between Tsarmina and the door.

"Is this how you would greet our enemy!?" Tsarmina barked, her shout echoing through the hall, "Is this the legion of Tisarma!?" She hefted her staff and swept its end across the rows of quaking soldiers. "A hundred laps of the yard, now!"

"Ya heard the lady ya spineless dregs, now march!" The captain of the guard kicked and shoved the dogs nearest him, herding them out of the hall's double-doors; swings of his wooden training sword landing on their armored backs and tails.

Ninsen climbed back to his feet and stood watching her with that infuriatingly coy smile of his. He shouldn't have anything to smile about, but somehow the leopard always managed. When the last of the troops had left the hall in their clattering armor, he stepped forwards and let his voice carry across the hall. "Still unmatched in battle, my lady: a more fearsome warrior I have yet to meet."

Tsarmina ignored him and walked to the weapons rack against the back wall. She slid the quarterstaff back into its bindings and made straight for the exit. She lifted her paw as she passed him, snapped her fingers, and gestured for him to follow towards the door. A soft chuckle came from behind her, but his obedient footfalls fell into step at her back all the same.

---

Tsarmina leaned forwards against her paw. She trapped the snowy-furred feline attendant girl where she stood, hemming her in against the wall. "I wish the baths for the rest of the day. I am not to be disturbed. Is this clear?"

The girl nodded, her wide eyes giving her guarantee of obedience.

Tsarmina smiled, the tips of her fangs just showing. "Fetch my armorers from the barracks."

The girl nodded again and slid along the wall to turn and escape down the vaulted corridors of the castle's deep basement.

"Ninsen." Tsarmina walked forwards into the main corridor of the baths, stood with her arms raised, and turned to fix the leopard with a single eye over her shoulder. "You many remove my armor."

If there was any amusement or surprise in his reaction he hid it well. The leopard simply walked up to her and began unfastening the clasps on her arms with nonchalant efficiency.

The heat of battle still burned in her veins. When he removed her bracers his rough paws brushed through her fur; Tsarmina fought to keep a purr from ticking into her throat and kept her eyes away from his. When it was time for him to remove her chest-plate though, she didn't try to avoid his stare, or disguise the smile that edged at her the corners of her mouth.

His paws unfastened the clasps and lifted the padded carapace away from her bare breasts, leaving her naked above the waist. Making no moves beyond his duty, the leopard crouched behind her and moved his paws down to her waist. The clasps and buckles against her hips and along her thighs came undone swiftly under his attention, and his paws pulled the rest away from her golden fur.

Her two armorers arrived with the servant girl in tow. They bustled in, gathered the armor straight from the floor, and jogged swiftly out without so much as a flinch at the sight of their princess standing naked beside the court champion: the very ability that had let them keep the position for so long.

Tsarmina flicked her tail and caught his eye; every bit of meaning conveyed to him in a single moment. She turned and strode towards the central baths on her toes, crossing her stride, deliberately swinging her hips and toning her legs. She didn't need to turn her head to know the leopard's eyes were riveted to her, exactly as they should be, or to see his knowing smile at her gesture of allowance.

The central baths were her second favorite haunt behind the training hall. Three separate pools were fed with steaming hot water from the kilns and furnaces beneath the castle: the middle was edged with marble stairs like the stepped seats of an amphitheater, and the two side pools were deep enough to allow her to submerge fully. All were invisible in the heavy, thick mist filling the entire room.

Cloying heat washed over her face and she blinked against the heavy, condensing moisture. Her coat ruffled and curled in the soaking air all the way to the marble edge of the central bath so much that she was already dripping when she reached it. She stretched out a leg and touched the water with her toes; satisfied, Tsarmina sunk her foot into the deep, radiant heat and climbed down the steps until the water flowed over her shoulders.

A rumble of contentment vibrated from her chest. The heat massaged at the tension in her muscles, the bone-jarring shocks of combat, the strain and tearing she had willfully inflicted. She stood on the very bottom with her shoulders submerged just beneath the surface.

Ninsen's padded foot-falls moved away towards one of the other baths. Water sloshed, waves lapped at marble, and then all was tranquil once again. He knew better than to interrupt her before she called him.

Tsarmina waited until the waves died away to leave the surface of her pool flat and calm. Steam moved in wisps across the surface, rising in swirls and arcs, drifting on unfelt currents in the silent space. She breathed the moisture through her nostrils and closed her eyes. The battles of the last few days, the adrenaline she'd run on, the thrill and triumph of seducing Denmien; all of the stresses that had worked at her under the surface began to slowly come loose.

A while later, she blinked her eyes open to keep from falling asleep. Wondrous drowsiness had taken her into its warm embrace. The water barely felt hot anymore, merely a pleasant softness like blankets wrapped around her. Tsarmina fought her reluctance to move and walked slowly through the flat, steamy glass towards the increasingly shallow end of the pool. Her shoulders emerged first, and then her breasts and her hips until it finally washed around her knees and ankles.

The amphitheater-like steps gave way to a shallow slope in a secluded area at the back of the pool. She walked from the water with streams of it running from her sodden coat and lay down against the warm stone. With her back against the marble, one leg bent and one straight, she put both paws behind her head to cushion against the hard surface and posed comfortably as though bathing in the sun.

Sleep drifted upwards to take her and her eyes closed under their own weight. But then they opened again, and for a moment she wasn't sure why. She blinked up at the mist filling the room, the ceiling lost to it above, and slowly realized there was a shadow in the whiteness by her side.

Tsarmina turned her head and gazed up into Ninsen's lust-heavy stare. He knelt beside her, naked and dripping, his spine-covered manhood half-erect.

She held his eyes for a moment, then turned her head back, closed her eyes, and let her bent leg slide down beside her other.

A rumble came from her side. Paws brushed onto her thighs and pushed her legs open - she allowed him and let a smile edge over her.

Warm breath huffed onto her sensitive folds and his rough, wet tongue brushed into her dampness and heat.

She hissed at the ceiling and tensed. Her paws gripped the marble, her back arched up, her legs lifted higher around his head, and her feet pointed down towards the still water.

His tongue began to lap at her in earnest and his paws slid around her thighs and beneath her to squeeze her and hold her up for his eager attention.

She bit her tongue and refused to let the long, deep moan leave her; Denmien's inexperience and the excitement of last night had left her sorely in need, but she would not show such weakness to Ninsen. Her breathing quickened and deepened though and soon her breathless pants huffed hot into the steam of the room, her body tensed around the male tongue buried between her legs.

Ninsen's paws moved from her behind onto her flat, trim stomach. They slid upwards through her fur and grasped her breasts into his strong, selfish hold.

Tsarmina shivered against the stone and the breath left her in a rush.

His paws gropedher; not merely feeling or touching, but squeezing and moving her breasts, his grasp flexing around her, his pads rubbing purposefully over her hard nipples as though he were using her like the girls of the harem.

The control she clung so tightly to began to slip and a cry built in her throat.

His fingers closed around her nipples, tweaking them, and at the same moment his tongue licked upwards over the tight nub nestled on her mons.

Her loud yelp of pleasure filled the echoing room, torn from her, her control wrenched from her grasp. She bleated like his submissive lover and writhed around the leopards' dipping, bobbing head, her claws squeaking on the smooth, damp stone.

Ninsen pushed his tongue deeper and licked at her faster. His paws rubbed harder over her breasts, groping her ever more selfishly, driving her to the edge of climax; an edge he left her teetering on.

She flicked her head up at the sudden absence of his tongue, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and stricken.

His head dipped back down and his lapping tongue drove her back towards the edge, forcing her to flirt with it. Her muscles tensed with each lick over that tight nub, but just as she yelped and gripped the stone, preparing to fall over into euphoria, his tongue pulled away and left her stranded once again.

Tsarmina roared. The guttural, primal sound crashed around the steam-soaked room and she glared down at him with murder in her eyes, her claws raking over the marble...

He grinned at her for a full second and his tongue dove back down into her heat.

Her head fell back, her eyes winced shut, and her body fell instantly back at his command. "Bastard-!"

His chuckles huffed hot breath over her.

"I swear..." she snarled, panting too much to continue.

The leopard pushed his mouth and his tongue deeper into her, his paws grasped her breasts, and his claws rubbing over her nipples with a feeling of finality.

Tsarmina howled in helpless abandon, taken by a wave of pleasure that clenched every muscle in her body, his tongue licking electric jolts across her. Another wave crashed over the first, and then another; she roared, feral and wild, blood pounded through her head as though it could burst, her cries draining everything from her lungs until she descended into rapid gasps.

The euphoria left her like the last wisp of smoke from an extinguished candle. She lay smoldering in its wake, panting, huffing air into her lungs, awash in an exhaustion that no amount of training or sparring could inflict, and a satisfaction that neither could ever hope to give.

"...Does my lady wish to recover?"

Her head snapped up from the marble and she panted at him, still awash in it.

Ninsen's muzzle was matted with her musk and his pink tongue licked it from his wet, black lips.

She allowed a sultry smile and licked at her own fangs. "How do I taste?"

"Like you are on heat, my lady," he rumbled, still licking her form his fur.

Tsarmina climbed to her knees, moved to all fours, then brought their muzzles together and joined him in licking herself from his fur. Their eye contact flashed close and intense, their tongues met, and she leaned into a kiss; the taste of him and her musk flooded her mouth and she let the purr in her throat tick higher.

Ninsen pushed his tongue deep into her mouth, flexed his jaws with her, and an answering purr rumbled from his throat.

She allowed him until she could feel the feverish need of his lust driving her head backwards, then she broke their kiss and licked his fur a few times before sitting with her legs folded back on the marble beside her. "How many harem girls do you have to ravish after our little 'sessions' together, I wonder?"

He kept licking her taste from his lips and breathing deep. "As many as are present, my lady."

She grinned at the sight of his fully-erect malehood twitching between his legs, his spines lifted and aching to rake her insides. "Then your seed is every bit as potent as your desire. My eunuchs report four more girls laid with child this month." She reached down and stroked her paw over his leg, hovering near it. "Must you always spill your seed within them, Ninsen?"

His stare dropped to her breasts. "It pleases me to, my lady."

"You were instructed to use the soldier's wives for that." She stroked her claws nearer over his thigh and kept her stare on it, enjoying him. "Do you not enjoy ravishing them in their husband's beds?"

"I prefer our own women, my lady."

She licked her fangs and brushed her pads over his spines. "I cannot keep robbing the townsfolk of more feline daughters to feed your appetite."

He sighed and breathed, ogling her, his drive only barely held back.

Tsarmina rose back onto all fours. She lifted her behind and her tail high into the air, her knees apart to present herself to the empty baths behind them, then lowered her mouth down and took him onto her tongue.

Ninsen hissed and grasped her head. His claws sunk through her fur and he stroked her cheeks, ears, and the top of her head as she pleasured him.

She raised and lowered over his length with his spines dragging over her tongue and the roof her mouth. He was tense, but she knew her court champion still needed several minutes of nursing to coax him into release.

Minutes she would not give.

Tsarmina gave him another long moment of pleasure, fully submitting into her role as his girl of fancy, her eyes meeting his every so often. Then she let him slide from her tongue and sat back up. "How is your control, Ninsen?"

The sharp disappointment burned in his eyes.

She licked her fangs, then turned fully around to point her behind directly at his face. She lowered her breasts to the tops of her folded arms on the marble and lifted her tail up and aside, her behind raised as high as she could lift it, her knees spread apart and her damp sex fully presented to the leopard.

Ninsen growled low and urgent, his eyes riveted to his princess.

Tsarmina breathed and watched him. She'd seldom shown him such a deeply submissive stance and it intoxicated her with the risk and danger.

He moved too quickly for her to react; his bulk was above her, his chest pressed down against her back, his paws beside hers on the marble. He reared over her and cowed her beneath him, dominating her, his twitching malehood held an inch from her folds.

She lifted her head and let him nuzzle her, their breaths mixing and their tongues lapping each other's fur. "Soon," she breathed, panting along with him, "...so soon."

He snarled in frustration and his hips moved above her.

She breathed with him and looked up, her physical submission to him complete, the lack of control and the danger dampening her further and beating her heart harder.

He was so close to taking her offered sex and sinking into her. She could see it burning in his eyes. His patience had been worn down and now his whiskers trembled with the constant snarl in his throat.

"Respect, Ninsen," she purred up at him. "Respect my line. My royal blood."

Ninsen snarled at her, his control slipping, and brought the tip of his malehood to touch against her damp, aroused folds.

Her eyes bore into his despite her cowed position. "Ninsen..."

He panted on the verge of thrusting forward. He would be in control if he did; both of them could sense it. But then his hips moved his malehood back and he pushed away from the floor to raise himself to kneeling behind her.

Tsarmina grinned back at him and didn't move. She kept her hindquarters up and presented to him and flicked her tail from side to side in the air.

He couldn't take his eyes from her sex. She knew it killed him to resist her like this, to deny himself what he desired most after being so accustomed to taking whatever and whoever he wanted from the harem and the soldier's wives. And she relished every moment of it. "My obedient champion. Do you desire your ruler? Tell her."

"You are wicked, my lady," he whispered, his throat filled with the growl of deep frustration. "Wicked and merciless."

Tsarmina moved her tail to brush over his face. "Do you enjoy me like this?"

He breathed harder and stared at her. "Yes, my lady."

"Show me," she crooned, and lay down over the floor with her legs together. "Spill your seed on my feet."

Anger flashed raw over his face; she was denying him the pleasure and release of her mouth after he had given such to her. This was further than she'd ever pushed him and it raced excitement through her.

Humiliated, the leopard crawled forward and held himself over her upturned feet - he lowered his manhood to her pads and her toes and began to slide against the soles of her foot-paws, his spines brushing her claws and sinking into the furry gaps between.

Tsarmina purred and watched him debase himself. "You enjoy a female's feet, do you not, Ninsen?"

He refused to answer her and it just made her purr louder. He rubbed himself against her for several minutes until he snarled, bucked against her pads, and came ropes of sticky white over her toes and fur.

A breath left her and she licked her fangs. She could taste his ruined pleasure, his anger and frustration. She lifted her feet and stroked his malehood with the pads on her toes as the last of the thick, sticky liquid spilled from him. It pooled between her toes and squished thick and cloying between her pads when she curled them in. She brought her pointed feet together in their air behind her and rubbed them together, dragging her toe-claws through her fur and rubbing his produce all over both as much she could.

Ninsen panted, climbed back up to standing, then turned and walked into the mist.

"Ninsen," she snapped. She finished covering her feet with his sticky lust, stood up, and walked forward with her splayed foot-paws sticking and slipping on the marble. She padded to his side, smiled at his forward-facing glare, then licked the side of his face. "You will have me soon," she whispered. "So soon. I must see the king."

He didn't look at her.

"Are there rumors amongst the guards?"

He nodded.

She smiled. "Spread them further."

He nodded again.

She licked his face, stroked her paw over his shrinking malehood, squeezed his spent balls, and strode off towards the doorway with his seed left in sticky paw-prints behind her.