Veiled Vixen
For Lapsa.
Kristen had been in the desert village of Uryadh for only a week and already her expedition had run into problems. She had sent a team of five out to scout the ruins of an ancient temple on the very edge of the old settlement and she would have gone with them had she not been preoccupied with the paperwork she received from the government to clear her crew for a full-fledged dig. Sill, as the white-furred vixen sat in her room at the inn, she couldn't help but feel this was fortuitous. Sure, filling out form after form of needed signatures, information, and red-tape was uninteresting and definitely not what she had went into the field to do, but it beat digging around under the hot desert sun. Kristen flicked the radio on, turning it to the frequency of the scouting team's radios...
And she still got nothing. She had tried time and time again, until it became something of a nervous tic. She had a feeling in her gut, that tense unease that made her jittery and restless whenever she just knew something had gone wrong. Sheila and Tamara were always so reliable, checking in like clockwork every hour for a status report. Now, there was only static. Kristen's mind flashed to when she had tried to hire a guide from the local jackal population. The young male she had propositioned had a reputation of a diligent and honest guide and was reputedly something of a scholar himself, but when she mentioned the old Nightveil temple, his pointed dark-furred had ears drooped and he had turned her away, even when she offered extra pay. "That place is taboo!" He had insisted, she could still remember the way his voice had shook as he spoke. "Those who desecrate its hallowed ground shall be punished!"
Punishment for simply going into a temple that had been abandoned for over a century, Kristen scoffed at the idea... still, even with her mind honed by years of study and scientific rigor, she couldn't help but ponder if the jackal was right about something. She still didn't believe curses or divine retribution, but the idea that something unfortunate had happened to the team in the temple wasn't out of the question, but it was simply a coincidence it happened on a trip to an allegedly cursed locale. Kristen rose from her chair and gathered her pack, stopping in the mirror to examine herself.
Her fur and hair were a frizzy mess thanks to the hot shower she had taken before settling in, but other than that she felt like she didn't look half bad, with her olive green button-up shirt tucked into her khaki safari shorts. She turned around in front of the mirror, her bushy snowy white tail fluttering behind her. She took her hat from the desk and place it on her head as she stepped out into the village streets. There was nobody but her out and about, and the warm night air felt right for it... so Kristen brought her black-furred hands up and undid the top few buttons of her shirt, letting her chest breath a bit more.
The difference in comfort was immediate, and so she set off in the direction of the temple. Thankfully, it wasn't too far away, easily reached in a half-hour if she kept up her brisk, jogging pace. She almost hated to do it, to intrude upon a closed-off site when the villagers had shown such hospitality, but then again, her team was MIA... possibly in trouble or hurt. She couldn't risk their safety to maintain propriety.
The top minaret of the temple came into view, breaking through the village's modest skyline almost like the haunted towers she had read about in fairy tales as a young kit. The structure itself had seen better days. Hell, it'd seen better decades; years of being exposed to the elements had worn the once-elegant stonework down to rough edges and cracked surfaces, the tiles of the steps leading up to the door long since reclaimed by the desert sands. The portal itself was a battered wooden door bearing a tarnished brass handle. Kristen pulled at it, getting some of the tarnish and dust on her palm pad as she pulled it open. The hinges squealed as the vixen forced the stubborn door open, revealing the interior of the temple, drenched as it was in the inky shadows of night. She crept inside, trying to make as little sound as possible just in case; a feat not aided by how her leather boots came down on the loose ceramic tiles. The flight of stairs leading up to the entrance lobby were wreathed in cobwebs, the once-brilliantly colorful and intricate patterns on the walls now a faded mess of shattered tile and stone. Her footsteps echoed throughout the empty building as she made her way up into the lobby. Kristen couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness overcome her. What had happened all those years ago that made this once-regal place of worship such a reviled and lonely place? Sure, the legend the locals passed around told of a magician being confined to it, but she put as much stock in that as she did talk of UFOs. Surely there was a real reason, a perfectly rational story that would explain-
Kristen froze as she reached the lobby, her jaw hanging open in shock. There was Tamara, the red fox alive and well, alongside the rest of the scouting crew... but they were dressed differently. Gone were the rugged and utilitarian khakis and safari suits, and instead the girls were dressed more in-line with the local flavor, or rather... what the local flavor would have been a long time ago: Their bodies were loosely draped in deep purple abayas, though the way they were barefoot and how their scent could so clearly be picked up from even where Kristen stood, meant that they had to have been wearing nothing underneath. And more curiously, they were all veiled in purple headscarves with golden trim embroidered in intricate ivy-like pattern accentuating the edges of the veil, their pointed ears being the only thing aside from their faces exposed.
Sheila turned to look at Kristen, the black-furred vixen's face showing not surprise or fear or even confusion, but rather the warm welcome of someone seeing an old friend.
"Sheila?" Kristen said, taking a cautious step forward, Something about the black fox was changed. Gone was the self-assured air she put on, gone was her back-country roughness; instead everything about her was demure, meek, and deeply feminine. "...What happened to you? " Kristen took another step forward, feeling that same unease in her stomach she felt back when she tried to contact them, and she could detect a coppery and almost floral smell hanging over the changed females.
"I am Shahla now," The black fox said, her voice soft and unimposing, her southern accent replaced with a much more regional one. "I welcome you to this place, and soon it will again be beautiful."
Kristen balked, she looked into her former friend's yellow eyes, noting they were bright as ever... but they had a glassy hollowness to them. It was if Sheila was stuck in a waking dream, unconsciously playing a role someone or something had assigned her.
"Just... let's just get you and the others back to town," Kristen said, reaching over to take Sheila by the wrist, "we can talk about this later." The veiled vixen snapped her arm back, out of Kristen's reach, her bushy tail fluttering with her ankle-length cloak.
"I cannot go," Sheila, or rather Shahla said. "It's improper for me to go out without my Master escorting me."
Kristen rolled her eyes. "Sheila...sorry, Shahla. You're not from here, you don't have to follow their customs!" She held her arm out, pointing to the doorway behind her. "Just... let's go. This is weird enough already."
Shahla shook her head, her expression now a defiant glare. "No! You can return to your grave-robbing, but we have found a nobler calling... his calling." And having said that, she motioned to the rest of the veiled and changed girls. They lined up and started back into the depths of the temple, with Kristen following after them, calling their names in vain hope it'd snap them out of their enthralled state.
As she ran after them, they turned a corner and then another... and soon Kristen found herself lost in the temple and the last of her lost co-workers vanishing into the darkness. Kristen was panting, still feeling like she was in shock. Maybe the locals were onto something with the curse... Kristen then banished the thought. Her friends had been drugged, or worse; she couldn't entertain such silly superstitious notions at a time like this. She would get out of here, alert the authorities and whoever was responsible for this would be brought to justice.
"Damn you..." She growled under her breath. Then, she heard footsteps behind her... Kristen whipped around and reached for the leather bullwhip she kept at her side, glaring at the unannounced visitor. Her eyes, now adjusted to the murky dark, fell upon the imposing figure of a brown-furred jackal, dressed in elegant robes of deep crimson and violet, his long pointed ears pierced and bearing golden rings, two on each ear. His piercing gaze fell upon her, his yellow eyes almost seemed to stare through her own eyes into her. The vixen blinked, and still with her eyes shut, she could see his eyes.
"Why..." He said, his voice reedy and gentle in a condescending way very much like the older gents of the village. "...are you trying to take my concubines from me?" His voice was only accusatory in the slightest, mostly he sounded confused... even amused at her actions.
"They are not your concubines." Kristen snarled. "They're my crew. Whatever you did to them, you better put a stop to it." Her balled fists hung at her sides, the whip was within immediate grip if the sicko tried anything. "Or I'm going to the authorities."
The jackal chuckled, stroking his chin with his thin fingers. "Oh you simple girl," he said. "The only authority in this place is me, the great Haazim." He held his arms out to his side, the flowing sleeves of his robe waving as if moved by an unseen breeze. "A mere vixen such as yourself would do well to show respect."
That did it. Kristen bared her fangs and made a grab for her whip only to find the holster completely empty at her side. She looked back up to the jackal to find the whip still coiled in his hand, he held it up with a mocking smile.
"Looking for this?" he snorted.
Kristen watched dumbstruck as the whip, her trusty leather bullwhip, erupted into bright blue flame in the jackal's clawed grip. Almost as quickly as they appeared, the flames died down into nothing, her whip obliterated completely, not even a single fleck of ash or a single spare ember was left of it.
"How?!" Kristen cried out, backing away from him.
"What's the matter?" Haazim said, walking towards her with a pace to match her retreat. "Don't you believe in magic?" Kristen felt cold stone against her back, there was nowhere to run... and she knew somehow this was because the jackal mage willed it.
"Well, I'll make you believe..." He said, closing the distance with almost ethereal grace and speed. It was like he was gliding along just above the floor, not just walking on it. In mere seconds, he was upon her, and she could feel his breath in her face. She lashed out, kicking repeatedly at him with her heavy-soled boot, but somehow the jackal managed to turn his body just so her kicks would miss entirely, he let her keep it up until she tired herself out... then he placed his hand beneath her chin and turned her face up so their eyes met.
"You're going to have to learn to behave as a proper woman," Haazim said, his golden eyes now glowing like searchlights. She could feel his gaze inside her head, needling into her brain.
She tried to yell in his face, but he held her muzzle shut. She tried to clinch her eyes shut to keep his gaze out, but he had this magnetic pull about him so that the longest she could keep them shut was just a brief moment. Her traitorous eyes opened again, and she could feel the needling and teasing at her mind grow in intensity, an almost tipsy drunken feeling came over her. Her struggling subsided into impotent squirming as he pinned her against the wall, her mouth hanging open as she gazed into his eyes.
"You," Haazim said, his voice mocking but not contemptuous, "...you're not an impressive specimen, not at all like the houris you sent here."
Kristen tried to speak in protest, but the jackal squeezed her throat, only a strained and gagging moan escaped her lips.
"They were so easily won over, their simple minds like clay...eager to be molded into any shape I desire..." He chuckled as if recalling their breaking fondly, then continued as the vixen tried to push him back. His flat chest was unyielding, like a stone wall before her. "You, however... you're rough and mannish, nobody would take you as a concubine, much less a wife as you are now."
And as he said that, Kristen felt guilty, she knew the guilt was inserted into her mind by him; an intrusive thought and nothing more... but it felt real, and she found herself doubting if it really was his doing alone. Kristen was indeed tomboyish, and she never had much luck in dating or relationships. Her work felt lonely so many times, and the danger had her second-guessing herself so many times.
"Don't worry, pet." The jackal said, patting her ear with his other hand. "I can salvage you, so you won't live the life of a whore. Though, that can be said of so many of your kind, yes?" He leaned forward, his cold black nose touching hers. "Foxes are impious whores, so they say. Maybe you are different. Are you?"
Kristen wanted to scream, to curse at him, to give him a swift kick in the balls and make a run for it... but no matter how she tried or how much she willed herself to do it, her body heedlessly remained still. It wasn't paralysis, but rather her body simply chose to not obey her. She was trapped, helpless, a damsel in distress.
"I...I..." Kristen sputtered. "I am different." She didn't want to say it, not like that. She wanted to defend her choice of career, to defy him and his archaic, sexist notions... but her mouth stilled before she could say any of that. Her body was no longer her own.
"Look at yourself not in despair, but hope." Haazim said, "Grave robbing, wandering the world like a vagrant... this is not who you were meant to be."
Kristen huffed through her nose, trying to shut the jackal's voice out... but the more she resisted his voice, the more his words corkscrewed deeper and deeper into her mind, until she felt herself repeating the phrase: "Not who I was meant to be."
"Now..." Haazim continued, his tone patient and indulgent like a school tutor. "You will listen to what I tell you, and you will not contradict me. You will stay and listen until I am finished and you will take everything I say to heart."
Kristen felt herself nod, her body had again betrayed her but her mind would have to double down. She had to resist, no matter what he said. She couldn't let herself become a plaything like Sheila had.
"Don't...don't do this." She said, finally willing herself to talk back.
"And this is your first lesson." Haazim said, gently holding her muzzle shut again. "You are to be silent, you are not to speak unless spoken to. Your voice has corrupted those around you and compromised your rightful place of submission. You will not argue with your Master, nor talk back to him. Through silence you will learn and be humbled."
Kristen made an attempt at mentally refuting this point, but her reasoning fell apart under the hypnotic assault of his words. She knew how to argue against it, but when her mind tried to hold and articulate this position, it became amorphous and vague, while Haazim's command only grew in its rigid profundity and allure. And he did have a point, after all. Maybe the vixen talked too much, valued her own opinion over others... maybe if she learned to shut up and listen she... No, no. Kristen had to fight it.
Satisfied that this lesson had taken hold, the jackal continued, releasing his grip on her mouth. She could talk back, but didn't. He could continue without further interruption.
"Your second lesson is to know your place. Dangerous work such as yours is unfit for a delicate little thing. If you hurt yourself, who shall care for you? If you reject your Master's authority, who shall correct your mistakes? And if you pursue your arrogant theories of science and history over the eternal truth of servitude, how shall you reach enlightenment? Your place is as a concubine, a wife, a mother and servant to your Master's whim. Through servitude you will be free of doubt and every endeavor will have purpose and merit."
Kristen's resistance weakened still. She recalled her studies and the places she'd been, and she was viewing each increasingly hazy memory through the lens of doubt. Did she really learn anything, even after all this time... all this hard work, and for what? A piece of paper with her name and school on it? A bunch of meaningless minutiae regarding ancient relics of dead civilizations? The more she doubted, the more his words flowed in, shaping new meaning and form from the fragments. Maybe she would, at least, be happier in some ways. All she had to do was just settle down and let things fall into place.
Haazim turned his critical gaze down at the vixen's outfit, his smile contorting into a displeased grimace. "Your third lesson is to dress properly. Your shorts bare your legs, your shirt is unbuttoned and all who look can see your breasts. Such immodest, ugly clothing. We'll have to change your sense of dress and how you present yourself. A lady does not wear clothing meant for work, it masculinizes them. Every day you dressed like this, you sullied your feminine grace. You will learn to embrace your feminine self, reject this decadence. Through rejecting this false image, you will learn to embrace a new and beautiful image of yourself. Do you wish to shed these clothes?"
Kristen nodded, only dimly aware of what she was doing. Her mind had gone sticky, all she was certain of was that Haazim was making more sense than her own thoughts, which were rapidly becoming little more than inarticulately negative reactions to what she was being told.
"Y-yes. I wish to shed them." She said, and as she uttered these words, her outfit felt uncomfortable, even embarrassing to her. Her shorts were too tight in the waist and drew unwanted attention to her butt, her tights were too hot and stuffy on her legs, her shirt and bra did nothing to offer protection or support for her soft, delicate body. She rejected her outfit, and as this sentiment was made final in her thoughts, her body was wreathed in gentle blue flames.
The flames burned away her shameful attire, while all she felt was a pleasing, toasty warmth on her fur and skin. It was oddly refreshing in a way, like a hot shower. The flames subsided when her clothing was burned away totally, leaving her naked and utterly helpless before the jackal. Kristen felt at once vulnerable and exposed, yet more comfortable than she had been. It was a step in the right direction, or so it felt.
"Good girl, you are already such an eager pupil." Haazim said, beaming as he knew the vixen was taking in everything, her mind like a sponge. He reached down, dipping his finger into her moist lower lips, prompting a quivering moan from the vixen. "And so eager to give your body over!"
The jackal ran his grabby hands up and down her body, cupping and squeezing her pert breasts, tracing his clawed finger tips up and down her peach-shaped butt, stroking her fluffy tail. The attention felt good to Kristen, she felt wanted. Even though some voice in her head protested that she shouldn't be feeling this way, she couldn't be bothered to listen too closely lest she miss another of Haazim's lessons.
"Before we get you dressed, you will learn your new place. You are a servant and concubine, and you shall work within my home. If your service pleases me, and your loyalty proven... I shall make you my wife, and then you will birth my heirs. The joy and responsibility of motherhood shall be your reward. Through domestic service and submission to my authority, you will become a worthy lover and wife."
"Worthy..." Kristen repeated, leaning into his arms as he continued to fondle and pet her. She was now hot all over, soaking in her own need. Every touch was pure electric pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so good to her, and yet she wanted more, knowing that it would only feel better if he could just take her, if she could be good enough for him to take.
"And now..." Haazim said, a dramatic flourish to his voice as he produced a thin, purple cloth made from the same semi-shiny material the other vixens wore. "Your final lesson. You will wear the veil, the veil is a symbol of your modesty, your feminine virtue, and your unbound loyalty to your Master and future husband. Through the veil, you will be made anew. Your old life will be left behind, and you will not miss it."
Kristen reached out to take the scarf, acting entirely without thought. She wanted this, needed it. The scarf was soft and smooth to the touch. She placed it on her head, taking care to line her ears up with the designated openings. She carefully looped it around, once, then twice. It hung loose, covering her hair but keeping her blushing face bare for the jackal to admire. Then, she took the pin he offered her and fasten the headscarf in place. Immediately, a sense of pure bliss washed over her. It was like slipping beneath a warm blanket on a cold night, or settling into a warm bath: a sense of relief, she could feel all her worry and fear and doubt bleed out of her. All that was left was submission.
She looked at Haazim, and a torrent of simple, submissive joy came over her. This handsome creature, he would be her Master, and she would share the pleasure of serving his every desire with the rest of his eager harem.
"Now, Kaatima..." He said. "Kneel before me."
And so she did, falling gracefull to her knees as his hands went to his belt. He adjusted his cloak and his member bobbed out fully erect in front of her, his masculine scent drawing her in. There was no need for further instruction, Kaatima knew what she was to do. She took a moment to breath his musky scent in, then took his cock in her mouth. Her lips slid over the shaft and her tongue worked itself over the underside, she was all too eager to please, to prove her worth to her Master. Her own arousal reached a fever pitch as he pumped into her mouth as she sucked. The two of them reached a perfect unison with their bodies, Kaatima lost herself in the task, taking him in her throat as he gripped her ears, stroking their velvety fur.
They kept at it until the world around them melted away, the last of Kaatima's old life vanishing in a sea of pure bliss. This was what she was meant to do, and as she felt his cock surge in her mouth, a trickle of musky, thick precum running down her throat, she was filled with resolve to do it to the best of her ability. With a strained growl, the jackal mage came messily down her throat, with Kaatima's own sopping-wet climax following immediately after. With a wet pop, she slid off of his cock and swallowed his potent seed, falling to the floor at his feet spent but utterly satisfied.
"That'll do, my dear..." Haazim murmured. "You've earned your place in my harem.
It had been a week since then, and Kaatima proudly wore her royal purple abaya as she tended to her household duties. Aside from her fur, she was otherwise identical to her harem-sisters. She swept the last of the dust away and looked over her work. The temple's luster was being restored little by little. Suddenly, she felt his presence behind him, a playful nibble at her headscarf.
"You're doing so well, my dear." Haazim said, gently cupping her breasts through her cloak. She went naked beneath it, as he liked it. "I believe you'll be the first to carry my pups. You have the perfect hips for it."
Kaatima had never heard such a wonderful compliment.