FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Marie Leclerc hummed a light melody to herself and smiled as she watched the pretty young bunny woman put the finishing touches on her order.

The bunny wasn't a superfur, that much was to be sure. She'd checked with her contacts.

But she could tinker with machinery and make special orders like none other. Watching her grey-furred fingers nimbly maneuver a tiny screwdriver to set the last piece into the long, silver jewelry box case was truly a sight to behold. Not to mention how her brows furrowed and her little pink nose twitched in concentration, and the corners of her lips tugged into a small smile.

Marie let her eyes wander over her form; pert breasts, a slender midriff that filled out to wide hips and a rather cute bum and a well-fluffed bunny tail that seemed to just draw her attention.

She licked her lips as her eyes returned to the bunny's, they just begged to be kissed. A young woman with such talent would be perfect for her organization.

And she wouldn't make a bad addition to her harem either.

Right along with my darling Strikira, she thought. Marie approached her target, swaying her hips as she walked around the work table and sidled up beside the bunny. "Is it ready?" she asked, loosing a faint trace of pink, gaseous musk from the pores in her body.

The bunny's nose twitched. She blinked a few times and shook her head as if to clear it. "Y-Yes," she said, turning to face Marie. Her soft, gray cheeks tinged a dusty pink when their eyes met. She gave an awkward cough and averted her gaze as she gestured to the case. "It's been altered and fitted to your exact specifications, Madame Leclerc."

"Parfait!" Marie praised in her native tongue. She made as if to accept the case, but clasped her hand around the bunny's. She would have this one. A perfect addition to her employ and her harem. A new acolyte to worship the living goddess of love. Her scent grew stronger. "I believe that meets all my needs. You truly have gone above and beyond to meet my expectations."

The bunny nodded, her eyes flitted to up meet Marie's gaze. She blinked a few more times, as if she were struggling to keep her focus. The pink in her cheeks deepened, her eyelids began to droop. "Y-Yeah ..." she said vacantly, her lips curved into a goofy smile.

Marie giggled. "You've been most helpful with my little project, cherie," she cooed, bringing her free hand up to cup the bunny's chin. "Your employer was not exaggerating your skill in the slightest."

"Huh?" The bunny shook herself and blinked as if she'd come out of a deep sleep. She let out a gasp, pulling back a step. "I'm so sorry, Madame Leclerc!" she said in a panicked rush. "It's just--I'm just sensitive to strong perfume, and it makes me a bit spacey. Rabbits have rather sensitive noses ..."

Oui, ma cherie. They do. Marie stroked the back of her hand. And all the better to enthrall you. "No trouble at all, dear. I understand entirely." She stepped closer, enough that she was almost nose to nose with the bunny. Her tail came around and teased beneath the bunny's nose, trailing her special musk along with it.

"I just love perfumes," Marie whispered. "They create the most enchanting scents, non?"

The bunny made as though to speak. Her nose twitched, her eyes crossed and seemed to glaze over as the goofy grin slowly returned to her face. She leaned forward, clasping her free hand around Marie's and nodded vacantly.

Marie hummed a note, the Gem of Hathor set between her breasts flashed. "Your work is without parallel, I've not seen anything like it," she praised. "Such a pity your employer would not give me the pleasure of knowing the name of a beautiful bunny such as yourself." Drawing in closer, she nuzzled their noses together, her lips brushed against the bunny's as she spoke, "Might I have it, cherie?"

"R-Rebecca," the bunny breathed. "Rebecca Halle."

"Rebecca Halle," Marie repeated as if testing the taste of a fine wine, her accent playing upon the last name. "A beautiful name, it suits you wonderfully." She maneuvered Rebecca's hand up and leaned down to brush her lips against her knuckles. "Enchanté, mademoiselle."

Rebecca squeaked and babbled something incomprehensible, the blush coloring her cheeks spread throughout her face, even tinging her eartips.

Trailing her tail beneath Rebecca's nose again, Marie smiled. "You know, cherie, this shop of yours is very ... quaint." She looked around at the messy work area with a derisive sniff, then returned her gaze to Rebecca. "And I'm sure you're paid well--"

"I'm ... I'm not, really," Rebecca cut in. "M-Mister Warner has me at an entry level salary."

Entry level? Marie's eyes flitted to the case. Such work was high quality, she knew for fact that the likes of Hatcher and La Rouge would pay top dollar to have Rebecca working for them.

If they didn't simply enthrall her.

Her smile grew. She took Rebecca's cheeks in her hands, cupping them softly like she would a lover. "Would you like to work for someone who appreciates your efforts and earn more money than you could ever dream, cherie?"

Rebecca's breathing quickened. She nodded. "Yes. I would!"

Marie let her hands wander around Rebecca's neck, she drew in close. Her lips parted, ready for a kiss. "Would you like to join the harem of French Rose?" she whispered. "And worship the living goddess of love?"

Rebecca's lips quivered. With shaking hands, she wrapped her arms around Marie's neck and leaned in. Her lips parted.

She nodded once. "Yes ... my goddess."

Submission was always so sweet.

Marie captured her lips in a heated kiss. She let out a hum as she ran her tongue along Rebecca's lips, coaxing them apart so she could slip in and prod its counterpart into a dance. With natural ease, she massaged and teased until Rebecca let out a deep, throaty moan and melted into her embrace.

Pulling apart, Marie beamed as she surveyed her newest thrall. Thick blush, panting, her mouth hung open in a vacant smile, and head over fluffy bunny tail for her. She dotted Rebecca's nose with a kiss. "Gather your things, cherie. We'll get you situated and discuss your new positions." Fixing Rebecca with a smoldering gaze, she licked her lips and added, "And perhaps we'll see that you get a proper induction into my harem."

Rebecca let out a shuddering gasp, her shoulders shook as she leaned in for another kiss.

Marie brought a purple furred finger to her lips, stopping her just short. "Not just yet," she chided playfully. "There's still one little detail we need to take care of--a small condition of admittance."

The way Rebecca's eyes seemed to shine with want and silent plea to know the cost, she was ready to pay any price to earn her place in French Rose's harem.

Excellent.

With a throaty chuckle, Marie said, "I need you to help me put together a romantic anniversary dinner for my lovely Strikira, a wayward member of the harem." She cupped the bunny's chin and drew near. "You will, won't you cherie?"

Rebecca nodded so fast her ears flopped back and forth. "Yes! I'd be happy to help!"

"Excellent." Marie kissed her tiny, pink nose and smiled. "Then let us go inform Mister Warner of your immediate resignation and collect your last paycheck. Won't you lead the way to his office?"

She took Rebecca's hand and let the beautiful bunny guide her into the back of the dingy little workshop to a pale blue door with "Reginald Warner" displayed across its face in big, black lettering. When Rebecca knocked, a grunt and a gruff "What?" came in reply. Annoyance flickered across Marie's face as Rebecca opened the door to reveal a portly tiger dressed in faded gray pants and a stained button down shirt. A quick look into his eyes was all it took to wrap him around Marie's purple-furred finger and coax him into offering his ex employee a hefty severance package to go along with her final wages. A generous spray of her foul musk into his cramped office as they shut the door and left would give him something to think about when he awoke. Something for him to mull over for a few days if he was lucky.

Marie led Rebecca out of the workshop to where a black limousine with darkened windows awaited. The driver nodded to both and opened the passenger door to allow them in, earning a soft kiss on the cheek for his troubles.

They sat side by side, close enough that their hips touched. Rebecca even dared to lift her leg to brush against Marie's knee. Such an adorable thing.

Glancing at the jewelry box, she smiled and let her eyes wander over Striira's name written across the face in elegant cursive. Her plan was coming together. "Now, cherie," Marie purred as she drew in for a kiss, "let us discuss the evening I have planned for my lovely Strikira and the part you will play ..."

***

Strikira eyed the old warehouse from atop a stack of cargo containers. She scanned the windows and shipyard grounds with her night vision goggles, searching for any sign of French Rose or her infamous cyborg henchfurs. An anonymous tip placed her at this very warehouse, but so far, Strikira's stakeout yielded a single, definitive result:

Nothing.

She drew in a sharp breath through her nose, almost as though she expected to catch the faintest hint of that familiar perfume.

Still nothing.

"I don't like this," she muttered to herself. The memories of her first encounter with the self-proclaimed Goddess of Love in this very warehouse flitted through her mind. How easily she'd been enchanted by French Rose's scent, how her hands fumbled to undress the skunk, their lips pressed together and their tongues dancing as she fell to that witch's thrall.

Strikira shook her head. It was only a stroke of luck that she'd gotten out of that spot."Why the hell would she come back here? She got what she wanted the first time around."

With a frown, she scanned the windows again. Light poured out from within, the shipyard's floodlights were even turned on to reveal a long pathway leading straight to the front door. Without any obstacles for her to dive behind.

Whoever was inside, French Rose or otherwise, didn't want her to have any chance to sneak up.

A low growl escaped her lips. She had a tip and she'd be damned if she was going to let that skunk enchantress get away again.

Strikira hopped down off her perch and made her way to the northeast corner of the warehouse. Her eye flitted back to the front door, just in case someone came out to patrol. Seeing nothing, she darted for the side of the building, pressing herself up against the wall to hide as she searched for an entrance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a partially opened window. Strikira took a quick look to check her surroundings, then bolted toward it. Nimbly, she leapt up and tugged it open so she could pull herself inside and land in a low crouch in one of the back storage rooms.

"Infiltration, done," she muttered. "Good on ya, sheila. Now let's see if there's anything to that tip."

She did a quick check behind the boxes just in case there were any henchfurs waiting or any traps to be sprung. Still nothing.

Frowning, Strikira unlocked the door and slipped out into the hallway to check the other rooms.

Something about this was seeming a bit too easy. Too convenient. Like French Rose wanted her to come right in and walk straight into her arms so she could be smothered in kisses and dosed with a generous helping of her hypnotic scent.

Not this time, though. Strikira wouldn't let her guard down, no matter how easy it seemed.

With each room she checked and found empty, her suspicion rose. Slowly, she made her way toward the main office. Her muscles tensed as she approached a direction sign ahead and hung a left, away from the storage space so she could get a look at the office overlooking everything.

The hallway was well lit by a row hanging lights that led straight up to a lone gray door. Strikira's muscles tensed as she slowly made her approach. Through the cracks in the door, she could see the soft yellow glow of a lit desk lamp.

Strikira narrowed her eyes. A lit lamp this late at night? She could almost hear French Rose calling to her, beckoning in her deceptively sweet, accented voice to come closer. Not that she had a choice if she wanted to put a stop that striped strumpet's latest scheme.

Still, she couldn't help but shiver at the thought of the self-proclaimed goddess waiting for her in that room with open arms and a smoldering smile as she greeted her like an old lover. "Come to me, mon amore. Let me hold you once again." A shiver ran down her spine. She wasn't going to let that happen again, no matter what trickery that witch played.

She took a deep breath, gripping the doorknob tight. Get in, take her by surprise, and subdue her before she starts working her charms. With a sharp jerk, she pulled the door open and slipped inside. Her hands came up, balled into fists and ready to put down any of French Rose's minions.

A near-empty observation deck greeted her. A desk and swivel chair sat against the left wall, a coffee mug with several pens rested beside a neat stack of papers and a computer monitor that was outdated at least twelve years ago. Along the far wall, a window ran from end to end, overlooking the warehouse floor. Strikira's attention, however, was drawn to a hanger bearing a long, yellow and black dress hanging on a rolling rack beside a changing curtain, and a small table bearing a TV set.

And the bunny dressed in a frilly French maid uniform that left little to the imagination standing before her with a vacant smile, glassy eyes, bow-shaped lips and light gray cheeks tinged a dusty pink.

Strikira sniffed. A familiar scent made her feel a bit lightheaded, her muscles relaxed and the thought to just walk up to that cute little bunny and kiss her silly--

She blanched, clapping a hand over her nose. "Where is she?" she barked.

The bunny giggled, then curtsied. "Good evening, Miss Strikira!" she chirped. "My name is Rebecca! Mistress Rose asked me to bring you an invitation!"

"How nice," Strikira drawled. "I'm sure she's planned a nice little date. Front row seats to watch her ruin some poor sod's life for her own gains? Or is this one just straight up, classic robbery?"

Rebecca shook her head. Her smile never faded an inch. "Nothing of the sort. Mistress Rose wishes to extend a dinner invitation for two, and asked that I bring you myself." She motioned to the dress. "She also requests that you wear this. It's a personal design, inspired by you."

A date? Strikira snorted. Not a chance in hell. "Sounds like she's awfully sure that I'm going to accept. Maybe I've got plans tonight--after I've put her behind bars and get you some help."

With a smile, the bunny gestured to the TV. "Mistress Rose said you might say that. But she wished to speak with you herself. Allow me." Rachel pulled a remote out from behind her back and bent low as she pointed it at the TV, giving Strikira a rather generous view of her cleavage. With the press of a button, the screen lit up.

Strikira felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the voluptuous skunk's face, graced with a coy smile and smoldering, half-lidded eyes, appeared before her. She gritted her teeth, growling out her name, "French Rose."

"My darling Strikira," French Rose purred in greeting. "You look lovely, as usual. You've been well, non?"

"I've had better nights. Anonymous tip mentioned a skunk villain and her gang sneaking about a clothing warehouse, kind of annoying since I had plans with a few friends." She feigned a casual shrug. "You know how it is."

French Rose gave a mock gasp and pout. "Why, dearest! The way you speak sounds as if you're not happy to see me! And I had such a lovely dinner planned for us!"

Keep her talking. "Sorry, but I'll have to decline." Narrowing her eyes, Strikira glanced at Rebecca. "You seem to have her all wrapped around your finger. Sure she's happy you're trying to date another girl?"

As if on cue, Rebecca beamed. "Mistress Rose is very loving and affectionate to all she holds dear to her heart!"

"Quite right," French Rose affirmed with a nod. She sighed and slumped in her seat. "This is a bit upsetting, though, darling. I pulled quite a few strings getting a private venue for the occasion. After all, it's our anniversary."

Strikira blinked a few times. "Our... what?" Her ears perked up. "What are you talking about?"

The skunk gave a pitying smile. "Oh, dear, I was afraid of this. Although, I suppose it's to be expected--you do spend so much time running after all those so-called other super villains." She sniffed derisively, then continued, "But, that's quite all right. I planned the whole thing out so you won't stress too much. You won't even have to get me a gift--" she paused to nod to gesture toward the dress hanging on the rack "--seeing you in one of my ensembles will be its own reward."

"How about I meet you halfway? You tell me where you are, I'll meet you there, and we take a trip down to Colmaton Station without a fight."

"A generous offer. But allow me to one myself." French Rose reached into her cleavage and pulled out a slender, metallic object with a red button on the end. A trigger. Humming to herself, she caressed her thumb along the edge as if running it over a lover's coat. Her smile turned vulpine. "Strikira, my darling. I would like you to put on the dress I so lovingly crafted for you with my own two hands, and then join me for a lovely dinner. In exchange, I won't press this trigger and release the Pink Lady powder I've hidden in various buildings throughout the city."

Strikira's blood ran cold. Her hands clenched and unclenched, shaking in poorly suppressed fury. "You ... How many?" she demanded.

Chuckling, French Rose shook her head. "That would be telling," she simpered as she slipped the trigger back into her cleavage again. "And before you think of calling your friends for help, I should warn you that I have a few lovely henchfurs monitoring the area for radio signals. If any but my own should emit from the warehouse, or the limousine I've sent for you, I'll press the trigger." Her eyes danced, she ran her tongue along her lips. "I would much rather have you at my side tonight, darling. But, if I must, I'll happily console myself with a few buildings worth of furs ready to lavish their affections on me. The choice is yours."

Damn it. Strikira closed her eyes and took a deep breath, fighting to reign in her temper. With French Rose out of reach (for now), she couldn't stop her from using that trigger. And if that powder got dispensed and all those innocent furs were enthralled ...

The self-proclaimed goddess of love would have a veritable army of devotees ready to worship and carry out her every whim.

She took another deep breath, then spoke, "You're not watching me change."

"Oh, darling! Do you really think I'm that uncouth?" French Rose's laugh made her want to squirm in place, but she resisted. "That's what the changing curtain is for. Rebecca?"

"Yes, Mistress Rose?" the bunny answered from Strikira's side.

"Be a dear and help my darling get ready. I imagine she's quite tired from all the sneaking around she must have done to get into that warehouse."

Strikira looked away as Rebecca happily gave her assent, then turned the TV off and bounced over to take Strikira's hands in hers, whisking her off to change for her date with one of the most dangerous and alluring super villains in the world.

***

Strikira squirmed in her seat and tugged at the dress throughout the limousine ride. The fabric was nice and soft, like silk brushing against her fur. In fact, she was willing to bet good money it was genuine. Still, it just felt so wrong to dress in French bloody Rose's clothing and ride in her limousine alongside a beaming, simpering bunny.

A beaming, simpering, enthralled victim, she corrected herself as she glanced at Rebecca out of the corner of her eye. The bunny caught her gaze and perked up her long, floppy ears, ready to talk. Strikira looked away. Once French Rose was dealt with, she'd have to figure out a way to free the poor bunny from her spell. Who knew how deeply under the thrall she'd fallen?

Or how long it would take to set her free.

The limousine pulled into the parking lot of an upscale Italian restaurant called Cavalcanti's. Strikira found herself taken aback for a moment, but was jolted out of it as the limousine rolled to a stop so the rear passenger side door lined up perfectly with the restaurant's glass door.

Rebecca slid her way over to the door as the driver tugged it open, beckoning Strikira to follow. Strikira grimaced, but followed despite her unease. All she had to do was go along until she could get that trigger.

She followed Rebecca up the pathway and into the restaurant, and took a moment to glance around the waiting room. Reproductions of famous paintings, polished wood trim, and black cushions for hungry patrons to sit while they waited--rather typical of a high-end restaurant that didn't want to go too far in making itself look classy.

Not at all what she expected from French Rose. Strikira arched a brow, a million different possibilities ran through her head. Was French Rose trying to put her at ease so she wouldn't notice her underlying motives? Was the restaurant chosen because of its proximity to the buildings rigged with her compact powder? Had it been chosen so there would be plenty of innocent bystanders for her to enthrall or hold hostage?

The hostess standing behind the counter, a young tigress, greeted them with a vacant smile that matched Rebecca's. Strikira could see fresh smudges of red lipstick upon her lips. Strikira sniffed, her brows furrowed at the familiar scent of French Rose's perfume. Another thrall.

"Good evening, Miss Strikira," the tigress said with a bubbly, lovestruck giggle. "Mistress Rose has reserved out the restaurant so you both can enjoy your anniversary together." She gestured toward the hallway on her left. "If you'll follow me, please."

Strikira walked a few steps behind her, with Rebecca matching her stride for stride. They made their way across the floor to the lone table in the center of the room. Her eyes narrowed and locked on its occupant, who matched her gaze with that damnable coy smile and half-lidded stare. Both had eyes only for each other.

Give the devil her due, French Rose looked as beautiful as every one of her enthralled victims claimed, but was sporting a different look. Gone was her typical battle dress; instead, the skunk sorceress had opted to wear a rather slimming red dress with slits running all the way up to her thighs, giving a rather enticing glimpse of the purple fur on her bottom. Her violet hair was let down, running all the way to her shoulder blades. She wore black leggings with tiny red rose patterns running up the outside, and high heeled shoes as red as her namesake and the gem hanging from her necklace, just above her voluptuous breasts.

The villainess rose slowly, her red lips tugged into a smile that made the young furs accompanying Strikira bite their lips. "Strikira, my darling," she purred as she stepped around the table, holding her hands out in open invitation. Her fluffy, gold striped tail swished and arched behind her back. "I'm so glad you could join me this evening."

Somehow Strikira managed to force a tight smile. She took French Rose's hands in hers and tried to ignore how soft and inviting the skunk's fur felt against her own. "The pleasure's mine," she said through gritted teeth. Her eyes flitted to French Rose's generous bosom in search for the trigger. "Where is it?"

French Rose gave a throaty laugh, then leaned in to whisper, "Perhaps you'll find out later tonight, mon amore." A shiver ran down Strikira's spine, she felt soft lips press against her cheek, she tried to ignore the scent of perfume teasing her nose. The skunk drew back, fixing her with an amused smile and raised brow. "You kept your mask."

"You never said you wanted me to take it off."

"Naughty wolf," the skunk teased. Her eyes shone with mischief. "Perhaps I can convince you to take it off by the night's end."

Strikira quickly averted her gaze and fought through the haze that accompanied her musical voice. "Uphill battle there, sheila," she retorted, opting to set a little bait. "Better furs than you have tried."

Her quip earned another laugh. Warm and genuine this time. "We'll see, darling." She released Strikira from her embrace, then turned to Rebecca and the hostess, holding her hands out to them. With bright smiles and rosy red cheeks, they all but bounced into her embrace, each giggling as she dotted a kiss on their lips before sending the tigress back to the front. She held Rebecca a moment longer and took a moment to whisper something that made her blush spread to the very tips of her ears.

Rolling her eyes, Strikira scowled. "Should I be on the lookout for two missing fursons in the near future?"

"Of course not," French Rose replied, pausing to share another kiss with Rebecca before she faced Strikira again. "Rebecca and I met during a recent business venture, and fell for one another. She's working for me now. Samantha--" she nodded in the direction the tigress had gone "--met us at the door and, well, you know what they say about love at first sight. After all, you and I were the same, non?" Her smile broadened just enough to give a peek of her canines. "You remember our first night together? In the same warehouse you met dear Rebecca."

Strikira held back a growl. She forced herself to keep smiling. "I'm not really sure flirting with your new toys is going to help you win me over." She felt a hint of satisfaction at the way French Rose's grin faltered. "I'm not big on sharing and, well, this whole open relationship thing just doesn't suit a girl like me."

"Then perhaps I'll be able to convince you otherwise." French Rose parted from Rebecca and sent her off to a side room with a nod, then she pulled out a chair, gesturing for Strikira to sit. "Won't you join me, darling?"

With a curt nod, Strikira took her seat, muttering her most insincere thanks under her breath. She kept her eyes trained on French Rose as she took the seat across from her, half expecting the familiar compact to come out in short order.

Instead, French Rose gracefully sat down and folded her hands in her lap. "Now, tell me," she began with a winning smile, "how have you been, darling? It's been too long since our last tete-a-tete--far too long for my tastes."

"Fine," Strikira replied cautiously. "Had a few cases come through the Bureau lately, but none of it was too difficult to handle. We came across a group of moonshine runners in the southeast a while back."

"So I heard. I followed the story in the papers. How is Lionheart's arm healing up, by the way?"

"It was minor." She shrugged. "She's already rehabbing it. Wouldn't want to be in their shoes the next time she gets her hands on them, though. Almost makes me pity them."

French Rose hid a bout of giggles behind her hand. "On that, darling, we agree." Glancing away for a moment, her eyes lit up. She beckoned someone forward with a wave of her hand.

Curious, Strikira turned to see Rebecca striding toward them with a bottle of wine and two glasses balanced on a serving tray. She watched the bunny set the glasses in front of them and fill them with a clear liquid. "Going with white wine? I'm surprised."

"I thought you might like to avoid the headaches some reds are known to cause--and I wasn't sure of your palate." French Rose took her glass in hand and raised it. "To your health."

The glint in French Rose's eyes left little doubt what she expected. Strikira's smile was forced, her actions deliberate as she mimicked the gesture. "And yours." They clinked their glasses together then drank, though Strikira paused a moment to make sure her "date" did so first.

French Rose never gave so much as a hint of a tell as she took her first sip, then sighed in content. "I love a good wine. Don't you?"

Strikira took the tiniest of sips. "Not normally much of a wine girl, I'm afraid." She licked her lips, then added, "This was a good choice though. Tastes light, but not watered down."

"Watered down?" The skunk brought a hand to her chest, a wounded look flashed across her face. "Darling, please, give me some credit. I'm a criminal mastermind, not a savage." She dropped the look, her smile returned in full force. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you. The linguini and clam is to die for."

"Don't exactly have a choice in the matter, do I?" Her eyes flitted to French Rose's chest. Or, rather, where she imagined the trigger to be hidden. "What with you holding that trigger over my head."

"Of course you have a choice, darling. There's always a choice. I'm simply giving you incentive to make those that go along with my design."

"Not helping your case."

"Master criminal, darling. I've never pretended otherwise, not to you." French Rose winked, taking another sip of her wine. Humming a low tune, she added, "Our food will be out shortly. Until then, I believe a bit of music is in order." She looked off to her right and snapped her delicate purple fingers.

Following her gaze, Strikira found herself gaping as Shadow Bouncer walked out from a side room, carrying a chair. He was dressed in a rather expensive looking tux, but still sporting his hat. He tipped his hat to her, then placed the chair to his right and gestured for someone else to join him on the floor. A young, blond vixen with orange and white coat wearing a sleek blue dress stepped out, carrying a well-polished violin and bow. The vixen bowed, then took her seat at his side.

The vixen began to play, coaxing forth a sweet, soothing melody that filled the room and made Strikira feel at ease. The sliding of a chair against the tile floor made Strikira turn to face French Rose, who had risen from her seat and stepped around the table. She held out a delicate hand, and asked, "Would you care to dance?"

Her first impulse was to refuse. Too many "dances" with French Rose began with a heist and ended with her choking on that rank skunk musk while she copped a feel and tried to weave her seduction magic. And without her gear or the Bureau backing her up, Strikira was like a proverbial fish out of water.

Then she remembered the trigger and the lingering threat of Pink Lady powder. Strikira rose, accepting the skunk's hand and allowed herself to be led a dozen or so steps away from the table. The second I get so much as a whiff of musk, I'm throwing her through a wall.

French Rose laid her free hand upon Strikira's waist, then began to lead her in a slow waltz. Two sets of green eyes met, one dancing with glee and subtle playful edge as their owner raised her right hand and sent Strikira into a graceful twirl. For a moment, panic gripped the wolf's chest, her free hand came up to block a grab for her wrist.

Instead, she found herself dipped, held up by just one of the skunk's strong arms. French Rose gave her an affectionate look, then stood her upright again and resumed their dance without the usual jerking motions or sudden, disorienting spins. There wasn't even a hint of musk!

Strikira was at a loss. Well and truly lost in unfamiliar territory. Every instinct told her that now--right now, in fact--French Rose would drop her façade and start her usual seduction. She would smell that alluring, aphrodisiac musk any second and have to fight with all her will not to fall under the self-proclaimed goddess' sway.

The vixen finished her first song without any such incident, and was well into her next--an upbeat melody that would have fit right in at a fancy restaurant on Valentine's Day--before either spoke.

"I don't get this," Strikira said, breaking their silence.

French Rose hummed. "What ever do you mean, darling?"

"Don't give me that, you said it yourself: you're a criminal mastermind. What does blackmailing me into a date get you? One of your big guns is in the room with us, sans equipment or androids for backup, but he's just standing next to the violinist without a care in the world." She furrowed her brows. "And I'll wager that tip was your work?"

"D'accord. And I've told you what I want, darling." This time, French Rose released one of her hands and held Strikira at arm's length, then flicked her wrist and spun her so her back pressed into the skunk's front, her head pressed against those voluptuous breasts. "It's our anniversary," French Rose whispered. "I want a night with you in my arms." With another flick of her wrist, she spun Strikira out to take her position again.

Strikira blanched. "You're honestly going to stick with telling me that you threatened innocent furs' lives for a dinner date?"

"Would it help if I added that I would have you tomorrow morning as well, if all goes smoothly?"

Rolling her eyes, Strikira shook her head. "Fine, I'll figure it out myself." Again, she glanced at French Rose's chest.

"Now, now," the skunk chided teasingly, "if you're going to stare at mine, I should get to stare at yours."

"Shut up!" She snapped, her cheeks burning. "I'm not looking at your breasts, you pervert! I'm wondering just how long you're going to keep this up before you give me that damn trigger!"

"Oh, that?" French Rose chuckled. "Once our date is concluded, I'll give it to you straight away."

"That's a blank check."

"There is dinner, dessert, your first gift, our final dance, and then your second. And then our date will be concluded." She winked. "Unless you wish to continue, of course."

"Uh huh. Right." Strikira narrowed her eyes. There was a lot of gray area in that promise. "You'll hand the trigger over without pressing it," she ordered.

"Without pressing it," the skunk confirmed as she suddenly twirled and fell into Strikira's arms, bringing a hand up to trace the wolf's chin with her delicate fingers. "No tricks, no dropping it on the floor button side down, nothing of the sort. I, French Rose, will not press the trigger to release the Pink Lady across the city. You have my word, I will put it in your hands with a smile and a kiss."

Strikira let out a long-suffering sigh and halfheartedly batted her hand away. Just take what you can get, old girl. Don't move until you've got it in hand.

They danced for a while longer, easily through two more of the vixen's tunes before Strikira noticed Rebecca come striding across the floor toward their table with a tray of food balanced on one hand and bearing a tray jack in the other.

French Rose stopped dancing, but didn't let go of Strikira's hand as they walked back to their table. Her thumb delicately traced the lines of Strikira's palm, drawing a shudder, a perk of the ears, and an unconscious wag of her tufted tail. None of which went unnoticed, much to the wolf's chagrin.

The burn returned to Strikira's cheeks as French Rose kissed her knuckles, then broke away to take her seat once more. Strikira had to take a deep breath and count backwards from three before she could calm herself enough to take the last couple steps without fear of looking rattled. Or worse, flattered.

She turned her attention to the delightful scents of pasta, deep red marinara sauce, and sautéed clams. Across the table, she watched French Rose unroll her silverware and place her napkin in her lap, then set about eating her food. Each motion was dignified, like something straight out of a school on proper manners, but completely natural to her. Casual, even.

Her eyes flitted up to Strikira, she raised a slender brow in silent prompting, then squeezed her arms against her breasts almost flirtatiously. But with a sinister edge just beneath the surface: Eat, or the trigger comes out.

Strikira hastened to obey, tossing her napkin in her lap with just a hint of vindictive pleasure. She twirled herself a generous fork full of noodles and took a big bite. Her ears perked. The sauce tasted divine, like none she'd ever sampled before. She slurped up a stray noodle, which drew a wince from the skunk across the table. A wicked smirk spread across her face, a little bit of civil rebellion was in order.

Slowly, but surely, they ate. Conversation was kept to a respectful minimum, albeit with a few flirtatious quips or topics normally shared between friends like "have you ever vacationed in southern France". Every so often, Strikira would slurp up a noodle, lick sauce from her chin, or smack her lips, anything to make her date wince and mutter under her breath in French.

Rebecca was ready to take their empty plates away almost as soon as they finished, then deftly replaced them with small dessert plates. Upon each plate, a slice of fluffy yellow cake with pale yellow icing rested. A generous slathering of rich, red malba sauce zigzagged across the plate, and a dollop of whipped cream and a pair of strawberry slices rested a mere inch away from the cake itself.

Strikira took a bite without prompting this time, lest she invite French Rose to go for the trigger again. A light lemony taste played upon her tongue, mixed with a hint of sweetness. The cake seemed to dissolve in her mouth, almost like cotton candy. She glanced up to see French Rose dip a piece of her cake in the whipped cream before taking a bite. Curious, she did the same.

Her eyes lit up as an explosion of flavor hit. Before she knew it, Strikira had taken another three bites. The cakes vanished in short order, all too soon for her taste.

She blinked, her mind raced as Rebecca hurried to collect their plates once again. Why on Earth did she want any part of this to drag on longer? For cake? Strikira gave herself a mental shake. Head in the game!

"Rebecca, my sweet," French Rose began, "go and fetch Strikira's gift for me, please."

The bunny bobbed her head. "Yes, Mistress Rose!" she chirped in reply, dotting the skunk with an adoring kiss on the cheek before she scampered off to the kitchen with their empty plates.

Strikira let her gaze follow the bunny for a few steps before turning her attention to French Rose just in time to catch the skunk fixing her with a contemplative look, idly tapping a finger against the table. The slow smile that spread across the skunk's lips made her muscles tense. "What?"

"Nothing, darling. I was just enjoying a rare moment of seeing you at ease. You're always beautiful, of course, but this is something I don't get to see unless I watch from afar and you remain unaware." She heaved a remorseful sigh and shook her head, and fell silent for a moment. Her smile stayed in place. French Rose shifted in her seat, so she could prop her chin on her other hand as she began to trace circles in the tablecloth. "You look more beautiful in that dress than I ever imagined."

Blinking, Strikira made to retort, a sarcastic quip was right on the tip of her tongue. Then she took note of French Rose's tone. There was no hint of huskiness or wanton lust. Certainly, there was flirting, but it was--dare she say it?--genuine.

Before she could gather her wits, French Rose shook her head and chuckled. "Fitting, I think. I design a dress specifically for you, I engineer a situation to force you to wear it, and you, darling, make my work pale in comparison to yourself." She sat back in her seat with a rueful sigh. "C'est la vie, non? Perhaps next time."

"Uh, right." Strikira fidgeted. As well-behaved as the skunk had been, she wasn't quite sure she'd chance another date. Twice might be pushing her luck.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Rebecca gliding toward them with a long, thin white box held flat across her hands. The bunny stopped a step away from Strikira, waiting to be prompted. Across the table, French Rose gave a single nod, and waved toward Strikira.

Rebecca bowed her head, then gently set the box down before Strikira and moved to stand just behind and to the right of French Rose.

"Joyeux Anniversarie, mon amore," French Rose said. "I hope you like it."

Strikira eyed her cautiously for a few seconds, then looked at the box. Carefully, she took hold of either side and pulled it closer, gently brushing her thumbs against the lid to push it up so she could feel for resistance--namely, any sign of a trip device. She found none. The top came off to reveal metallic silver box with her monicker written in elegant, flowing cursive. A jewelry box.

She lifted the jewelry box out and set it on the table. It didn't feel any heavier than a normal one. Still, she took care as she lifted the lid and looked inside. A yellow rose pendant set upon a black backing shone in the light, and a thick, black piece of leather stood in contrast to the yellow cushion it rested upon. She blinked. "You got me a collar?"

"I had it made for you," French Rose corrected.

"It's ... pretty. Very much so, actually. Why a yellow rose?"

The skunk flashed a grin. "Symbolism is a wonderful thing, darling. If I am a vibrant red rose who demands attention and adoration, you are my beautiful yellow rose who brings comfort to those who see it."

Strikira palmed her forehead and laughed. "I walked right into that one."

"Quite. Won't you put it on? It's meant to go with your dress, and I'd like to see how it looks on you."

Almost to the end. With a halfhearted shrug, Strikira picked up the collar and found herself looking at a small, barely noticeable nozzle the thick leather had hidden.

Pink Lady powder burst forward with a hiss, catching her full in the face before she could so much as blink. Strikira fell backwards out of her chair, clutching her snout and coughing. Her eyes teared up, her vision swam and blurred. She could hear French Rose laughing as her thoughts grew cloudy, images of herself held safe in the beautiful skunk's arms as they kissed flooded her mind. It felt as though someone had set her body aflame with desire.

Strikira fought against the powder's influence with all her might. She stumbled to her feet and turned to face the rising villainess.

French Rose's green eyes caught hers and danced with glee and naked lust. Strikira couldn't look away, she found herself drawn in, like she could just stare forever and lose herself in such a goddess' gaze.

The burning desire erupted into a roaring inferno in her loins, she managed to jolt herself from her stupor and set her jaw. Letting out a strange fusion of a snarl and a lust-filled moan, Strikira stepped forward and made to throw a sloppy punch at the skunk's face. She didn't notice the green clouds of gaseous musk fill the air until it made her nose curl and her vision blur again. Her throat tightened and her stomach churned, as she stumbled and gagged. She tried to cover her nose to block out the stench.

French Rose caught her wrists and pulled her in closer, pressing her breasts against Strikira's face. Grinning wickedly, she drew in a deep breath and gave a happy sigh before planting a kiss on Strikira's poor nose. "I've been waiting for this, darling," she whispered huskily. "And now, as promised, our last dance." Nodding to Shadow Boxer and the vixen, who had both donned gas masks, she led a clumsy, choking Strikira through another waltz. The music started up again, accompanied by the skunk humming in her sweet, entrancing voice.

Every twirl, every dip seemed to come out of nowhere, stealing the very breath from Strikira's burning lungs. She was forced to follow along in a daze, drunk on the rank odor that dulled her senses and assaulted her nose. Her knees began to feel weak, she slumped forward, burying her face between French Rose's voluptuous breasts. All the while, she found herself drawn to those beautiful eyes. Thoughts of kissing the skunk flashed before her eyes again and progressed to lust-filled fantasies of the pair entwined together in the heat of passion, naked as the day they were born.

Strikira clenched her eyes shut and fought it off, she tried to jerk her right hand free, but the skunk held her fast. "The ... trigger," she choked, desperately clinging to consciousness even as blackness creeped into the edge of her vision.

French Rose simply giggled and guided Strikira's hand to press against her chest. Then, she took Strikira's wrist and forced her to unclasp her fingers as she slipped it inside her dress. She slowly guided it along so the wolf could feel the warm, soft fur and supple breasts before the touch of metal brushed against her fingers. With deft skill, she helped Strikira take hold and withdraw it from her cleavage, though not before leaning forward to press a kiss in the middle of her forehead.

The images came back in full force, and then some. Strikira could feel those soft lips teasing her body, a warm tongue circling her breasts, as though they were in bed together rather than in a restaurant. Her breathing came in short, panting gasps, her eyes fluttered shut as she felt French Rose's lips brush against the tip of her ear and whisper, "My second gift to you, darling." She kissed Strikira's ear and ran her tongue along the outside of the tip, drawing forth a needy whimper. Her hand wrapped around Strikira's again, forcing her to hold the trigger tight. "Before I explain, let us enjoy a new song together."

As she spoke, the vixen's song changed from an upbeat waltz to a slow, sensuous melody. Strikira staggered, unable to resist as French Rose pressed her cleavage against her face and trailed a hand down her back to squeeze at her butt.

The rank odor gushing forth from the skunk's body was replaced by a sweet scent that teased her nose and commanded her to inhale. Her burning lungs forced her to give in, she gulped down deep breaths of sweet oxygen along with the alluring scent. The images overrode her very thoughts, her entire body burned with wanton lust and love for the beautiful skunk dancing with her. Strikira's eyelids drooped, a vacant smile spread across her face as she gazed longingly up into French Rose's eyes and tried to follow along with her dance.

French Rose kissed her cheek, then spun her around and held Strikira tight, pressing her breasts into the wolf's back.

Soft lips pressing against her shoulder drew a whine. Strikira clenched her eyelids shut and tilted her head to the side, panting as French Rose trailed fluffy kisses up her neck and along her jawline. One of French Rose's delicate hands gave her right breast a firm squeeze. Strikira squealed, wagging her tail as she rolled her hips and ground her backside against the skunk.

A husky chuckle tickled her ear. She felt a warm tongue run along the edge, her breath hitched.

"Your second gift," French Rose whispered, "is this." She squeezed the hand in which Strikira held the trigger. "Have you noticed something about the weight, darling?"

The skunk's enchanting voice cut through the visions for a moment. The weight? Strikira blinked and focused on the metallic object in her hand. It felt ... off. Like it was missing something.

"Empty," she breathed, laying her head against French Rose's amble breasts. "It's empty."

"Mistress Rose," French Rose corrected with a chuckle and a kiss to her cheek. "It's empty, Mistress Rose."

"It's empty, Mistress Rose," Strikira repeated dutifully. She turned so she could gaze up in adoration, to behold the unparalleled beauty before her.

French Rose stopped dancing and guided her to turn so they were face to face. She cupped Strikira's chin with one hand, her other held the smaller wolf in a tight embrace. Drawing in close enough so their lips were a mere hair's breadth apart, she said, "I told you what I wanted, you silly, lovely little wolf. You in my arms at last. No more games, no more fleeting nights spent as heroine and villainess where catching you is but one side benefit to my design. Tonight, my darling, was all about us. I want you to hold onto this--" she glanced at the trigger in Strikira's paw "--and remember how you came to be at your rightful place at my side. You will, non?"

Strikira licked her lips, nodding as she wrapped her arms around French Rose's neck and nuzzled their noses together. "Yes, Mistress Rose!" Her heart raced, she wanted so badly to just close the distance and plant a kiss on those luscious red lips. She whispered softly, "I love you."

"And I, you." With a smile, French Rose tilted her head and pressed their lips together.

The fire burning beneath her skin roared with renewed vigor as the lustful images flooded her mind. Strikira arched her back, parting her lips as she felt a warm tongue coax them open, then slip inside to massage beneath her own. She lifted one knee up and wrapped a leg around French Rose's. She rolled her hips, grinding her crotch against French Rose's leg as she gave in to the love goddess' kiss.

Who was she to resist Mistress Rose?

They parted, though not without another quick peck. Again, French Rose ran her tongue along Strikira's lips, teasing her until she stood on tiptoe and dry humped the skunk's leg without restraint.

Grinning, French Rose ceased her torment, dotting her with another kiss. "Not here, darling," she whispered. "You and I have the rest of the night together." Leaning in, she added, "As well as several days to help you get acclimated to your position in my harem."

A shudder of anticipation ran through Strikira's body. She sighed, drinking in another sniff of sweet musk, and laid her head against French Rose's chest. "Yes, Mistress Rose," she replied, happily snuggling against the soft white fur.

They stood together a moment longer, swaying in time with the music until the vixen ended her song. After thanking Shadow Boxer and his companion, French Rose led Strikira out of Cavalcanti's with her right arm wrapped snug around her waist.

The wolf laid her head against the skunk's shoulder and smiled as Rebecca and Samantha took their places on French Rose's left. As part of their Mistress' harem, they all belonged together. Her love, her will, her desires were theirs.

One by one, they piled into the limousine and huddled up close for the ride. The sweet scent of French Rose's enchanting musk filled the car, Strikira found herself panting, sniffing greedily for more. She moved to straddle the skunk's waist and wrapped her arms around her neck once again. French Rose smiled and leaned in for another deep, sensuous kiss that sent her all the way to cloud nine.

Strikira moaned into the kiss, happy that she was right where she belonged at last.

***

The ride over had been otherworldly for the lovestruck heroine. Kisses, licks, nuzzles, nipped ears, she and her fellow harem sisters made sure to lavish their affection on the beautiful skunk who so captured their hearts.

As French Rose led them through the hallway of her safe house, Strikira held the skunk's arm tight and heaved a contented sigh. Why had she fought so hard against her mistress for so long? What sort of silly fool fought against such a goddess in living form? Or love itself?

When they reached the end of the hallway, French Rose shooed Rebecca and Samantha off to one of the guest rooms with a kiss, whispering, "You've done me a great service, ladies. We'll begin your induction tomorrow. Tonight, however--" Strikira felt her knees shake as those beautiful green eyes flitted to her "--belongs to my darling, Strikira."

Her heart leapt. Strikira pressed herself against French Rose's arm and rubbed her cheek against her shoulder. She barely even registered the girls bidding both French Rose and herself goodnight before they walked arm-in-arm down the hall to find a room to share. Soft lips dotted a kiss on the top of her head, French Rose steered her down toward the other end of the hallway, toward a lone door.

French Rose held it open and waved her inside. The room was lovely. Soft red carpet, plush furniture, silken drapes drawn to either side of the French door leading out to the balcony on the left side wall, a fireplace on the right wall, and, straight ahead, a king sized canopy bed with wooden frame, several fluffy pillows in purple cases, and a royal red comforter.

The door closed behind them with a soft click. French Rose guided Strikira to the left side of the bed, and took a moment to look her up and down, surveying her with naked lust in her eyes. She drew in close, planted a soft kiss on the wolf's lips, her delicate fingers trailed down Strikira's back and tugged at the zipper. Her tongue teased and prodded Strikira's lips. With a whimper, the wolf melted into the kiss and hastened to remove French Rose's own dress.

They were naked in short order. French Rose parted long enough so they could look each other over again, both panting for breath.

Licking her lips, Strikira let her eyes wander over every inch of the skunk's body to drink it all in. Everything was perfect. How had she not appreciated it all before? Her gaze settled on those voluptuous breasts and pert nipples, Strikira swallowed.

A gentle hand cupped her chin and returned her gaze to French Rose's face. "Soon, darling," she purred. "As much as we want. You and I will be very thorough in your induction over the next several days."