The Trouble with Idioms
"Stupid... stupid father..."
The voice would have been sweet--feminine, barely adult--if it wasn't carrying so much irritation. The sound arrived in the stables well before the speaker did. It gave Rell plenty of time to gather himself. He'd been finishing up the daily tasks in the stables at a time when few workers and fewer visitors were around. Something was surely amiss.
"It's not my fault... wasn't even my idea to go to that party... but nooOOOooo..."
Rell was washing his hands in the nearby basin just as his visitor arrived. The door at the foot of the spiral staircase opened, and out stepped one of the people he'd never expected to see there. Just her entering seemed to change the atmosphere.
Cass opened the door at the bottom of the spiral staircase and emerged into the stables area. One person there, good. She didn't recognize him per se. Oh, sure, she'd seen him around, but more as scenery than anything else. She didn't even know his name.
Her father would not have approved of her engaging the hired help in conversation.
So she took her first good look at him as she stood there, intruding on the nightly routine. He was young--not as young as her, but definitely not the stuffy middle-aged types her father hobnobbed with. His species was some kind of wild cat, with sandy-colored fur, but no patterns to the fur, no mane like the lions her father so approved of, no true distinguishing features. His clothes were the same, functional, undecorated, practical. His expression suggested he was a beat behind the times, and also that he always was.
For his part, Rell could scarcely believe his eyes. He was normally at least two people removed from any member of The Family. Those rare occasions when the master of the house did deign to notice him, it was always to abuse him for some minor inadequacy. He never had the pleasure of meeting the daughter of the house--yet here she was, replacing the place's ambience with her own.
She was dressed for high society: long gloves (each more expensive than any garment Rell owned); strategically placed jewelry; a dress that somehow managed to conceal her breasts while fully advertising their presence. Her long, fluffy squirrel tale distended the back end of the dress.
Her face was warped in irritation, which put Rell (after snapping to his senses) on his guard. "How can I help m'lady?" he said warily.
She huffed--even a gesture like that was somehow appealing, prim, proper on that gorgeous face. "Well, let's just say that..." she took a deep breath. "...there's something I have to do."
He dreaded asking her what, but he didn't have to. Before his unbelieving eyes, she turned away from him, and her tail started curling up behind the hem of her dress, lifting it ever so slightly. In moments he could see the backs of her legs (which were encased in silk stockings which matched the gloves).
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she challenged in hollow tones. "I'm raising my tail for you, aren't I?"
Rell would never be quite sure, in hindsight, how he avoided laughing at this critical moment. She thought that was 'raising her tail'? It was absurd, through and through--so absurd there had to be something more to it. "You don't really know what that phrase means, do you?"
"Of course I do!" she said. It was a lie so obvious even the horses would have called bullshit. "It means this, doesn't it?"
Rell said nothing. Cass' cheeks burned steadily brighter over the next few seconds, until finally she admitted, "Well, actually, no."
Once again, most people would have laughed. Rell didn't, as if he could sense, on a level below thought, that something special was going on, if he could just keep her here and not scare her off.
"Where did you hear that phrase?" he asked.
She gave a mighty inhale. "Well, it started when daddy took me to this party," she began, and soon the words were geysering forth. They were words she'd been dying to say to someone--anyone!--and never had, it wouldn't have been right, no one understood. At this point, though, it was just a relief to get them out, even if it was to someone barely a step above shrubbery.
"...so he dragged me away from the party and said, 'I'll not have you raising your tail for any ruffians,' but I wasn't raising my tail and they weren't ruffians, they were on the invite list for the party and father had okayed the list, so they must have been okay, and anyway they were really nice--they laughed at all my jokes, and they were always close by, and they smelled so good..."
Rell blinked, hardly managing to keep up.
"...I mean, it's not like it's my fault I barely get to interact with people my age, what with father hauling me to one of these events after another, and introducing me to a constant stream of older strangers, Lord What's-his-face and Count Muckety-muck and Viscount Whatever, and most of them barely even look me in the eye because they're there to talk to father..."
Rell wasn't exactly a linear thinker, and his thoughts didn't come to him in complete sentences. The head butler always remarked unkindly that this made Rell a perfect fit for working with the horses, who had even less use for linear thinking, and none at all for complete sentences. That didn't mean he was dumb. Though this torrent of words was too much to follow beat-by-beat, a picture was beginning to emerge to him.
"...and father's always talking about how my marriage is soooo important to this family, and how this will get us all the noble titles he's always been craving, like that'll make such a big difference to us all, but it's hard for me to think about that, especially when it means I'll be spending the rest of my life with some musty old broke noble who just wants my dowry..."
She was saying all of this over her shoulder. Her back was still turned to him. Her shoulders heaved as she breathed, somehow, without there ever being much of a break in her words.
Several suspicions were floating towards the top of Rell's mind.
"...but I know I'm supposed to be obedient, I'm supposed to be a good little girl, but it's weird when they call me a girl and also call me a femme, and it's harder than ever to obey these days, I've been so distractible, I really wanted to spend some time with those males..."
Rell knew perfectly well what raising one's tail meant. And the daughter of the house didn't. And there appeared, somehow, to be a very real chance he could communicate that understanding to her... by a most practical method.
"...and I'm just so lonely, which is weird because there are people all around me all the time, but none of them really know me, and they all stay away because of father, he scares everyone off and then shuts me up again, and he says he's just 'protecting his assets' but I don't even know what that means..."
Rell knew exactly which assets the master of the house was protecting--the same ones his daughter was so confusedly offering. No one could resist that.
"Would you like to?" Rell said abruptly.
Cass stumbled over his words. "W-what?"
He gestured towards the half-raised hem of her dress. "That's not really raising your tail. There's more to it than that."
"Oh..." said Cass, her voice suddenly failing her. Years of social isolation--and her awareness of it--choked out the sound. "Is there?"
"Yes," he said, in the reassuring tones he used to soothe the horses. "Don't worry, I can show you... if you're interested, that is."
She hesitated. On the one paw, she was just glad to have escaped her handlers and her father's suffocating grip, and doing anything to keep the good times rolling had to be better than ending them. On the other paw, her father had just gotten done explicitly telling her not to do this. What even was 'raising your tail'? She hadn't known what it was before and she'd still gotten in trouble. She might as well know. And if her father had a problem with that, he should have told her himself.
That little extra bit of spite gave her energy. She nodded her head vigorously. "Yes," she said. "I want to know. Show me."
Rell felt as if some charitable god had just made good on some karmic IOUs. "Move closer to the wall," he said, voice steady despite his rising excitement. (Nor was that all that was rising.) "Now put your hands on it, and lean forward a little."
"Like this?" said Cass, complying as best she could.
"Keep your legs still, and lean forward more," he said, voice and pants both tightening.
Cass frowned. Okay, that caused her hips to push back, and her tail did rise some. The changing posture reminded her vaguely of the few dance lessons she'd had, back before her father had grown irritated with the instructor and fired her. "Is 'raising your tail' like a dance?" she asked.
"Sort-of," was the very slow reply. "Yes. The barnyard dance. It's a dance you need two people to do."
Well, there was no harm in just a dance! Cass wondered what her father could possibly be so upset about. "Would you do it with me?" she asked.
"I'd love to," he said sincerely, "but I need you to actually raise your tail some more. Try to touch the back of your head with it."
She did as she was told, concentrating hard. Bit by bit, her tail did, in fact, rise--taking the back of her skirt with it. Soon her tail had made it almost all the way, and her skirt had pooled at the base of her tail.
That left the panty-clad butt of the daughter of the house exposed to the stable boy's ravenous gaze.
It was plump, untoned, the product of a lifetime of indulgence and very little real exercise. Even so, it was an ass, and it was barely clothed, and it was right there--which made it, at that moment, the best ass in the world.
Already Rell's heart was hammering in his chest and his cock was nearing full hardness. He got plenty of exercise and was in the prime of his youth and virility, a fact that often ran headlong into his meager station and left him with painfully blue balls. Now, unprompted, this gorgeous and untouchable femme had come to him. Was asking him, knowingly or unknowingly, for a good stuffing.
He couldn't afford to lose this chance. He stepped forward, so that even if her tail relaxed it couldn't return all the way down. His hands went to her sides, to her hips. To him, this was an incredibly suggestive act, a sneak preview of sorts. To her... the gesture was lost on her, wasn't it? Nothing about it screamed "I will fuck you" to her naïve mind.
He couldn't resist. He stepped forward again, and pressed his erection against that revealed rump. It slotted perfectly between the cheeks of her ass. Even with his trousers on, the feeling was sensational. The promise was more potent still.
She stiffened at the moment of contact. "What's that?" she asked, with some small trepidation.
"It's just me," Rell answered with some effort. "Nothing to worry about. It's just... part of the dance."
"Is it?" she answered weakly. She was fully out of her depth. She knew what that was like. She had, once, been taken on a boat out on a lake. She'd looked out into the boat and very nearly panicked, realizing in that moment that she had no idea how deep the lake was, or what might be in it.
She was there again, in the hands of someone she hardly knew, and the thrill was smaller than her fear.
Then he rolled his hips.
Whatever that hotness was on her pampered behind--she'd never felt anything quite like it--something happened when it moved against her. Her body responded with another shiver. She sucked in a breath. The fear was still there, and her footing was no more sure than before, but something else, something new, was competing with it.
Her eyes had widened and she didn't know why. Her breath hitched as whatever it was rolled against her pampered bottom.
She could get used to this, she decided.
She was getting used to this.
"This... is the dance?" she asked.
"The first step," he explained patiently.
"Just the fir--oooh," she cooed. His hands had moved to her waist and squeezed. Then they'd moved up again, and squeezed under her arms, the tips of his fingers curling around and brushing the sides of her mommy-parts. No one, she realized in a rush, had ever touched those orbs of hers, not from the time she'd first noticed them swelling on her chest. Servants and seamstresses alike had gone out of their way to avoid going near them, a feat which grew steadily harder as her bust increased to proportions Cass thought, frankly, embarrassing.
She found herself wishing he would touch them more. She wondered what would happen if he did.
His hands shifted one more time, up to her shoulders. He gripped them tightly, deliberately pulling her back against him, wedging his cock more firmly against her ass. If her insides felt half as good as her outsides... he gave himself a half-growl to restore his focus. He had to do this right. He had to not spook her.
Something like this, he was sure, would never happen again. He wanted to wring every iota of pleasure out of this once-in-a-lifetime chance. He also had to be sure she didn't bolt. Her quivering beneath him suggested she was ever so close to that. Best to bring her along slowly.
"The first step," he repeated. "I'm going to take the second step, now."
She barely had time to register that she had an opportunity here to stop it. It was gone before she'd noticed. In its place was that longed-for touch on her mommy-parts--and it was different and more intense than she'd imagined.
It was as if the other parts of her just didn't matter. Her paws pressed against the wall? She could barely feel the stone beneath her fingers. Her back, arched still with that hot thing pressing against her bottom? It was a vague, meaningless sensation.
No, it was the fingers and paws rubbing and caressing her mommy-parts that had her full attention. A new and different feeling was bubbling up within her. She had no name for it, but it was strong, and it was blanking the thoughts from her mind and overshadowing her fear.
She wanted more of it.
She gasped aloud as his fingers pinched her nipples. Somehow, they'd gotten hard--save for a couple of times in the cold she'd never felt them do that! She was anything but cold now, so how was this happening?
This was a fun dance.
Rell leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. He was using her tits as leverage to continue his dry-humping, and it was making him feel great. Almost too great--this moment was so saturated with lust he felt like he was losing himself in it. That was unusual, even if he was pent-up. Was this just because the femme was such a prize? Maybe... and yet some of her words floated up to him through the hormonal haze. Something about how all the males at the party had been circling her, trying to be around her...
Oh, perfect. There was a way to check, to be sure, while pacing himself at the same time. He nuzzled into the soft, short fur of her neck, his hot breath washing visibly across her fur. "I'm glad you raised your tail for me, aren't you?"
"Yesss..." she hissed out, like a slow escape of steam.
"But even this isn't really raising your tail," he said regretfully. "There's more, still."
"More?" she said, voice surprised and disbelieving.
"Only the best parts," he said, and he tried to inject as much promise as he could into the words.
"Better than this?"
"Much." He gave a buck of his hips and caught her nipples again in his fingers.
She trembled beneath him. "How can there be more than this?"
"I'll show you," he promised. "First... I'll need to take off your panties."
"What? No," she said reflexively. "Daddy never lets anyone see me naked." Her tail relaxed, only to find it pinned against the chest of the stable boy. She looked over her shoulder at him. He was, in her startled eyes, suddenly much closer and much larger and much more male than he'd been before. No one had ever looked at her like that before.
The fear rose again in her--but it wasn't a fear that felt bad, somehow. At least half of it was excitement.
"And your daddy never wanted you to know what raising your tail is all about," he said slowly. "But it's been good so far, hasn't it?"
She bit her lip. She'd never spoken ill of her daddy, no matter how restrictive and confining he'd been. But then... she was here, wasn't she? Her body still tingled under the stable boy's touch. "More than good," she admitted.
"It's made you feel things he never let you feel."
A spark of anger rose in Cass' chest. How could her father have kept her away from this when it felt so good? That was so mean! "Never," she agreed.
"And you'll feel even more," Rell continued, and with each sentence he caressed her, inflaming her with words and touch alike. "More things. Deeper things. Things you can't imagine. Would you like that?"
Frustration turned to anger. Anger, plus this new feeling (which she couldn't have named 'lust'), turned to recklessness. It overtook her. "Very much," she said. "What happens now?"
"I take your panties off. Just keep your hands against the wall."
He didn't wait for her to answer--which was just as well; she had no idea what she might have said. Instead he began to sink. His hands came away from her mommy parts, much to her disappointment; his head moved away from her shoulder. Even the hot hard thing vanished from against her bottom. She could still feel his body behind her, but vaguely, not with the intense present-ness of just a moment ago. She pouted about this. Even her tail began to sag back to its usual orientation.
All of that stopped when she felt his fingers undo the tail-band of her panties.
"I--" she began, but there were no words that followed. He hadn't let her say anything before sliding the panties down and off her bottom and partly down her spread legs. Instead, she gasped, because the sudden contrast of cold air to the heat down below was jarring.
More jarring than ever, though it took some time to realize that fact, and begin to understand why. She had only the barest familiarity with the area covered by her panties. She didn't even have a word for the place that bled a few times a year; only that it was a "private place" that had never been discussed even obliquely by the servants.
But that private place was wet.
A fact that hit Rell right in the mating instincts.
There could be no doubt, now. The smell was intense, intoxicating. It was unmistakable to someone who'd encountered it before, in femmes and ferals alike: the delirium-inducing smell of female fertility.
It was only by some miracle that Rell didn't laugh this time. He recognized the power and the consequences of her body's state in a way she didn't. No wonder she was so persistent in seeking out company! No wonder that party had ended with males sniffing her out and making her father act to protect her!
She didn't even know what it was he was protecting. Rell had thought it was just her virginity. He knew that was a prize among the nobility. He'd never seen the virtue of virtue; all his past lovers were well beyond that point by the time he passed through their beds. Those nobles and would-be nobles, though? They put a price on it.
They put a higher price on heirs.
And the master of the house--that pretentious, arrogant, abusive, desperately anxious male whose money demanded deference but could never buy respect--knew those prices. He was so determined to maintain their value that he'd put his daughter in a virtual cloister.
A cloistered existence which, in turn, left her utterly defenseless.
Defenseless... against this.
Rell leaned underneath the daughter of the house's tail and licked.
Cass squealed as she felt something against her private place. She tried to squirm away, but she couldn't. He had a grip on her, and her muscles weren't working right. Nothing was working right. She'd thought the touch on her mommy-parts was intense; it was a candle compared to the bonfire of sensation whirling through her now.
"What..." she tried, before she felt it again--a wet, rough, overwhelming feeling of something dragging against her private place. She had no understanding of what he was doing, what she should be doing; there was only the feeling of her body trembling and getting hotter under the assault.
Gathering her wits, she tried again. "What are... you doing?"
He chuckled against her, which vibrated nerves that had seldom before fired at all. "I'm licking your pussy," was the muffled reply.
"Pussy?" she repeated, and untried muscles began to activate, as if responding to the word.
"Or your vagina," he said, before the sensations rocked her again. (Was that him licking her? She should be grossed out, right? ...but it was soooo... something!) "Slit." Lick. "Pussy." Lick. "Cunt." Looong lick. "Whatever word you want. I like 'pussy', myself."
Cass' fingers curled against the wall as her brain tried to orient itself, rocked as it was by waves of sensation. This was uncharted territory, but whatever fear there had been was quickly succumbing. This new feeling was far too strong for something as trivial as fear to hold it.
She didn't have the words to describe or process what she was feeling. All she knew for certain was that she never wanted him to stop. She moaned aloud, scarcely aware she was doing so. Her brain had no focus to spare anywhere away from her... pussy, that was it. She liked her pussy.
Rell liked her pussy, too--almost too much. There was no doubt about it: she was deeply fertile. He could taste it and smell it and feel it. Her body was screaming the fact in a way her brain never could. One reason Rell had gone muff diving was to pace himself, to lower his stimulation a little bit before the final act. It wasn't working very well. The femme's hormonal broadcasts were speaking directly to his libido.
To put it more directly: she made him want to plunge his cock balls-deep into her needy pussy. His cock throbbed in eagerness.
His brain agreed. He was going to take the first bite of a forbidden fruit, and fuck over the bastard of the house in the bargain. This was delicious.
It might not be fair to the girl to make her pay for her father being an asshole, but Rell didn't have many ways to strike back, let alone ways that were throwing themselves at him with spread legs and a drooling cunt.
Throb.
Fuck, he needed to be inside her.
Her scent, her taste, were demanding he fuck her, breed her. They ate away at the last of his patience. She was ready. It was time. With a last swipe of his tongue that reached almost to her tailhole, Rell stood again, and moved to drop his pants.
Something was building, Cass thought, through a delirium of new sensations and hormonal flux. It was like her guts were tightening, expecting something to happen, something terrifying and new and she wanted it, oh she wanted it--
--but he stopped. That wonderful tongue stopped and moved away.
"What?" she said, blinking, belatedly realizing her eyes had been screwed shut. "Why'd you..."
Untested muscles were clenching, newly awakened nerves were firing off, and she'd wanted those things to keep doing what they were doing. The 'building' sensation stumbled, began to recede, and she wanted it, wanted it back. How could the boy be so mean, to take it away?
"Why'd you stop?" she whined. It was supposed to be a demand, but she couldn't get there, not with her legs weak and her mind overwhelmed and her juices flowing freely.
"I stopped so I could show you what 'raise your tail' ultimately means," he said. "What it truly means." His voice, she could tell, had shifted. It wasn't as soothing anymore. There was a growl in it. There was animal in it.
Another time, that might have frightened her. Now, it made her private place--her pussy, she remembered--quiver. Her baser instincts heard the animal, and responded.
She was scared, still, but not nearly as scared as she was horny (another word she didn't know). "I want to know," she said. "I want you to show me."
He chuckled deeply. "That's more like it," he said, putting one hand on her hip and holding her tight. "That's what I want to hear."
"I wasn't ready before," she said. "I am now."
He chuckled, more at her words than with them. Oh, she thought she was, didn't she? With his free hand, he grasped his rampant cock and aligned it to her opening. He could feel the literal heat and the metaphorical heat alike pouring from it. Her body was honest in its intentions, at least, in a way her father hadn't been.
She didn't get it. Not really. Her father and "polite society" had seen to that. And soon she would be unfit for "polite society", like the rest of the low-class, rutting, breeding animals that tended her home. Her father would have a hard time selling her off for her virginity when she had a lowborn bastard swelling her belly.
Fuck, he wanted to knock her up so much.
"You'd better hold on," he said. He traced his cock over her nether lips, gathering up the copious moisture with his cockhead. It was taking all his self-control not to just bury himself deep inside. He had just enough rein over the animal within to keep it steady, controlled--at least until there was no going back. When he judged himself lubed enough, he seated himself firmly between her pussy lips, grabbed hold of her hips, and pushed in.
She had no words to describe the sensation. She'd led a life her caretakers kept sanitized and censored, pristine--and, she now realized, false. This was real life, heat and fullness and throbbing and the takeover of nerves and instincts she'd never known.
And he hadn't even reached her maidenhood yet.
He did in short order. He paused but a moment to gather himself, then pushed through.
Her eyes flew open at the sharp pain. She at least had a name for that, but she was quite unused to it--the same cloistered existence that kept pleasure at bay had made pain a stranger. She filled her lungs to scream.
The meat of his hand was in her mouth before she finished inhaling. Her scream never materialized; instead she bit down even as tears formed in her eyes.
"It'll pass, it'll pass," he said. "I didn't want you to be afraid, so I didn't tell you. It's just for your first time. In a moment it'll be gone. I'll be still until it's better."
Then you'll be still a while, she thought bitterly, biting down a little harder on his hand. Not that he minded this too much; a jaw used to handling sweetmeats and cakes didn't have much strength behind it. Nor did he regret having to pause. She was, after all, virginally tight, and deep in the throes of heat to boot. The warmth, wetness, and pressure were all incredible. Her pussy was grasping for his cum, and he would give it to her far too soon if he got carried away. He busied himself nibbling at her neck, stroking her sides, occasionally caressing a breast. Signs of affection and distraction would take the edge off the pain, bring her back to the world of pleasure... and open her legs for the last time.
She didn't know his thoughts, but she was going along with them all the same. Faster than she would have imagined the pain was receding, leaving an almost pleasant soreness behind. Her eyes began to flutter again as he touched her so nicely. She tilted her head forward subconsciously, giving him access to her neck as he lavished attention on it. His licks and light nipples brought a chirr out of her throat that caught her by surprise.
She released the grip of her teeth on his hand and gave an impulsive lick of apology. "My regrets, sir," she said, meaning it.
"It's fine," he murmured in her ear, and the hand went to imitate its partner in warming her body. It felt nice. So nice, in fact, that she didn't notice when her body responded with a subtle rock of her hips.
He didn't miss that particular gesture. Almost before he'd realized it, his hands grabbed a hold of whatever was beneath them and he'd thrust forward. She gasped as he pushed further into her untested depths, spreading apart what she hadn't even known was there.
And still going!
She had no frame of reference, no way to know how deep was deep, how big was big. All she knew was he kept going, impossibly--surely he was in her stomach, soon he'd be in her throat!--and with every moment she fell more and more in love with the feeling. She hadn't known how empty she was before. Now? Now she knew--but only because now she felt full. Gloriously full.
She'd been wrong before. THIS was real life.
She was sucking him into her--right into the heart of her heat. He couldn't hold in a groan as he pushed in to the limit, bottoming out in her. It was with immense satisfaction that he slapped into her ass with his hips. She smelled good and felt better, and now... ha!
Now he'd really gone and done it.
Whatever price her father was hoping her virginity would bring on the marriage market, that was gone now. The loathed little stablehand had gotten there first. And that wouldn't even be the best part. Oh no...
Fuck she felt good!
"Is..." she gulped. "Is this what 'raising your tail' really means?"
"Yeah," grunted Rell. "This is really it."
She sighed blissfully. "I can't believe I've never done this before..." A frown flitted across her face. "I can't believe... father... wouldn't want me to feel so good."
He gave a cough that almost sounded like a laugh. "That frustrates you, huh?"
"Yeah," she said indignantly. "It does!"
"Then let's live it up," said Rell, a hint of his growl filling her ear. "Let's really enjoy it while we can. Let's fuck."
Her mouth was open in unasked question when he began to withdraw. A needy whine came from her throat, unbidden but honest. "Noo-OOOhh!" The emptiness had been a tease, just a momentary thing, and now he was back inside her and filling her completely and oh, oh gracious, oh goodness, oh she had no words for this, no thoughts, there was just these amazing sensations echoing in her body and her brain and leaving no room for anything else.
No room to stop and think why her father had forbidden her this, nor why, exactly, it felt so good.
Rell's grip on her hips was firm now. He wanted her steady for him as he fucked her. It was hard not to get carried away--there was no doubt he'd hurt her if he just went full bore--but it was so difficult to hold back. She felt so good. Her fertility called to him, beckoned him. And, at the same time, he was taking out several weeks of pent-up lust and several months of resentment and frustration at her and her family.
He was repaying all of that with a barely-restrained fucking.
Slap, slap, slap. His hips driving against her pillowy ass made a lewd sound that filled the stable; the combined smell of their sex began to overpower even the usual scents of the animals. No one would have mistaken either the smell or sound for anything else, but they were alone. No one disturbed them. No one cuffed his head for acting above his station; no one dragged her off to her father before she could truly ruin things for him.
There was only heat and pleasure and fluids and grunts and sex.
Cass could barely keep her feet; if he hadn't been holding her up she'd have been on the ground by now. Her heart was hammering in her chest as it never had before. Her eyes were clenched shut, and yet bright lights seemed to dance behind her eyelids. Her fingers were curled so much that it was her knuckles that rested on the wall.
And still he rocked against her.
Still he pushed his whatever-it-was into her secret places.
Still he made her feel, somehow, better.
She couldn't believe it. Every time she thought she'd felt as good as she could possibly feel, he pushed her to some new height of ecstasy. She had no idea what to do or think or feel. Her body seemed to know, though. So she gave in. She surrendered to instinct. She let her body do whatever it wanted.
What it wanted was to get bred.
Rell was only too happy to oblige.
It felt so good, plowing these fertile, virgin folds, that he'd almost missed the sensation. There was no mistaking it, though: he was butting up against her cervix. The last line of defense for her womb, and whatever eggs were tucked away inside.
He drove her back against him like she weighed no more than a doll. Five times he slowly thrust as deep as possible, knocking on the door each time, smearing her cervix with his precum. Deep in heat as she was, the pre alone might be enough to knock her up... but why leave it to chance?
She hadn't asked him to stop, pull out, or use protection. Ergo, she must want this. It was a ludicrous thought--he knew damn well she didn't know enough about sex to ask him anything of the sort--but he wasn't thinking with the head that held his brain. He was thinking with the head that was swollen angrily and smeared with her sex juices.
That head wanted nothing more than to pry open the gate to her womb and paint her insides white with baby batter.
Fulfilling that request was simplicity itself. Basic. Instinctive. Even the most naïve, sheltered, ignorant wench knew how to go along with that.
You found a male and raised your tail.
That was what she'd done, and now she was getting exactly what she'd asked for.
"Yessss," she hissed senselessly. She'd started to feel hot--a pleasant heat, like a warm bath, only starting from the inside. Every time his body collided against her, every time she was completely filled, she got hotter. It was almost frightening--would it ever stop? She hoped not.
Something was building, something new, and she was no longer frightened, how could she be when everything about raising her tail had ended up ten times better than she could have imagined? She felt no fear as the heat rose and the tightness in her belly wound up and it seemed as if she could feel every bit of his strange maleparts inside of her.
She felt eagerness to experience this wild new thing.
She felt certainty that Rell would take her there.
"Please," she whispered.
He snapped. His fingers tightened almost painfully on her sides as he hammered away with abandon. Her untoned ass rippled with the heavy impacts. He was lost to rut, insensible to anything but the prospect of breeding the pretty little thing beneath him.
His cock swelled, and hardened, and jumped, and his balls churned and drew up. He growled like a feral as his mind receded, as all his attention went to the intersection of their fucking bodies.
He was going to fill this high-class womb with his plebian seed and fuck a bastard child right into her, and it felt so very good.
One. Two. Three thrusts as deep as he could go, so deep it couldn't be comfortable, so deep her cervix gave way beneath his pounding. One more thrust to fully breach that last defense, and then he erupted, cumming so hard it was almost painful, lathering her unprotected womb with potent, virile sperm.
She didn't understand it all, didn't understand what it meant. She felt the strange but exciting discomfort, somewhere beneath the haze of pleasure, but there was no thought or word that even came close before pleasure crashed over her all the more intensely. He was getting rougher and more excited, and she fed off of that, gorged on it, until...
"AaaaNH!" It started as a gasp and then completely caught in her throat. Her body was seizing up. There had been a jet of warmth into her, and, like a trigger, it had set something off within her. She was spasming; unused muscles were twitching at full strength; all she could feel or sense was pleasure from her forbidden places, rocking her, consuming her.
It was so very good.
Her body was rewarding her. It knew nothing of shame, or ostracizing, or whatever other consequences might be coming. It only knew that it had been ready to breed, and a male had obliged her. All those biological imperatives had worked to perfection.
Now, one more: satisfaction. Even as the pleasure receded, a sense of vast satisfaction swept through the waif, whose schooling in this most primal subject had been so woefully lacking. Her body told her that she had done well. In the absence of any other information, she had to take its word for it.
She shuddered and collapsed against the wall. Her body felt like pudding. The cold of the wall contrasted so sharply with the heat radiating from her every inch. Her lungs were heaving breaths; this was more exercise than she'd gotten in years.
There was exhaustion, yes, but also exhilaration, and thrill. And, as always, confusion. "What was that?" she breathed.
He chuckled. "It's the end of raising your tail, that's all. The natural conclusion."
"I don't know why... anyone wouldn't want this," she said. "How it could possibly be bad..."
"Well," said Rell, "some people just don't like other people being happy."
It was a true statement, after all, even if it didn't exactly address her question. He knew the real reason you didn't just raise your tail for random furs when you were at peak fertility. It was a reason that was manifesting at that moment, as his virile sperm swarmed over the defenseless eggs her womb had offered up for him.
It was a reason that would become abundantly clear in a few months.
He sighed. He would, of course, need to be long gone by then. The master of the house was cruel enough without a particular reason to hate you. Knocking up his daughter, and taking her waaaaay down on the marriageability scale, well, that was one hell of a reason.
She was frowning. "I... suppose?" she allowed.
He patted her comfortingly. "Which is why we can't talk about this. He was in a temper about the idea that you'd raise your tail. If he knew you actually did..."
"...that'd be quite a scolding," she said with a giggle.
His first two or three replies died unsaid. "Yeees," he managed. "Quite a scolding."
He was, only now, beginning to soften. The idea of impregnating this upper-class wench had kept him hard longer than usual, and even now his cock was pulsing periodically, as if eager to squeeze in the last dollop of sperm that'd ensure the job was done. He smiled at the thought, and pulled out. Fluids immediately spilled from her, the same fluids coating his maleness: creamy semen, translucent and fragrant feminine juice, and a touch of her maidenblood. It dribbled from her pouting nether lips, thickly dripping towards the ground. It was, he reflected, a beautiful sight--visual evidence of a job well done. A wench well and truly fucked.
She groaned in disappointment as the delightful pressure left her. "But I felt so full," she whined. "Full and warm and..." She shivered in recollection and sudden coolness as his body heat went away. "Put it baaack."
"Can't," he chuckled. "Not right now. Not yet."
"So... if I come back another day, we can do it again?"
His cock throbbed, as if trying against all physiological odds to re-harden. "You'd have to be super careful," he said sternly.
"Of course," she agreed hastily. "But I could?"
It was playing with fire, he knew. She was already burned--he couldn't make her any more pregnant--but the flame could still touch him. Fucking her again would just be for giggles. Really good giggles, he admitted. Still... "Maybe," he said vaguely.
Or, he added to himself, I'll already be in another county by then. Before you begin to show. Before your father realizes your 'market value' has plummeted and decides to take the difference out on my hide.
Life was fucked up, he reflected.
"I can't wait," she said, blissfully unaware that the damage was already done, that her heat was already receding, that even then sperm were digging into her only-too-receptive eggs. She finally pushed away from the wall, and immediately staggered, light-headed and exhausted. He caught her before she collapsed; she nearly purred in appreciation. "Thanks," she said.
"No problem," he replied, helping her regain her footing, and copping a quick feel for his troubles. Her breasts were hefty enough; before long, they'd be swelling with milk to feed the babies he'd just fucked into her...
She pulled her panties back up and smoothed her dress down. Even if she didn't know what was happening in her womb, she knew that concealing this tryst was necessary. She couldn't wholly succeed in regaining the demeanor and bearing she'd possessed before. She still tried. "How do I look?" she asked.
Different responses cycled through Rell's brain.
"Fine," he said at last.
"Good," she said, satisfied. She turned to go.
He followed her long enough to see her start to ascend the stairs. As she went, the combination of the angle and her tail lifted the back of her dress--enough for him to see her panties saturated with sex juices.
Fine indeed, he thought, and smiled.