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Another anonymous commission, a little less grim and more character-focused than the previous two installments of the series.

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"So, this is one of the Hatari warrior-priestesses?" mused the Kos Siha had been told would be her new... owner. The proud young feline kept her chin up and her slitted eyes looking ahead, despite having been told to keep her gaze pointed at the floor by the loathsome canines responsible for her fate.

"And a maiden at that..." the reclining Kos pointed out as he took another sip of his host's wine. "And soldiers being what they are, it wasn't easy keeping them intact..."

"A princely gift, to be sure. Some might say a bit too extravagant for a retired legionnaire..." the elder of the two canines remarked, Siha's ears folding a little at the sound of the other Kos' chortle.

"Others might say 'a fitting reward for a celebrated commander'. Especially from a former subordinate who has every reason to be grateful. And if I may say so, Sir, a gift that should keep you entertained in your life of leisure..."

"You may, but don't call me 'sir'. I'm a civilian now, and you are an officer." The Kos corrected his guest and Siha had to keep a bitter smile from spreading across her muzzle. Despite his words, the elder of the two Kosith still spoke like he was instructing a man under his command. Even though she had a decent grasp of their language Siha had been blissfully ignorant of Kosith culture until the disastrous day that had immersed her in the worst parts of it.

One thing she learned was that the canines held a great deal of respect for those serving in their legions, and practically revered those who led them. As a warrior-priestess sworn to Ishtra, she couldn't help but feel disgust at the arrangement. Retirement! What a euphemism for abandoning one's oath! Along with her sisters, Siha had sworn to serve her goddess until the moment she was reunited with her. Those of her order who reached the age when their bodies began to fail them became commanders or instructors. If this man had truly been fit to lead others into battle, why had he been placed in this rich house when he was barely past his prime?

"Force of habit."

"Were they really as formidable as their reputation would have it?" her new owner asked, managing to tear his eyes away from her body long enough to pay attention to his subordinate. For the occasion, the young Hatar had been washed thoroughly, doused with water smelling of flowers and spices, with a length of linen wrapped around her waist and nothing but her own fur covering the firm breasts riding high and proud on her chest.

"Gods' blood, yes! We should have had enough to overrun them - a fast, clean _razzia._Instead we paid dearly for every Hatar we caught." The younger Kos said, and Siha could see that despite the naked young body on display, he now had his former superior's complete attention. "This one was one of the younger ones. She wore a purple robe -a step above a novice as far as we can tell - and she still managed to lay three men down before we netted her. The ones wearing warmer colors took an even greater toll, and the ones robed in white... well, we had to kill most of them. Might as well try and rope a demon..."

The words of the Kos officer stirred Siha's own memories, albeit from a different perspective. While the canine viewed his losses as unacceptably high, for the Hatar it seemed like they'd killed too few. What good was it that they'd left the dry plain covered in Kosith bodies, when they had an endless stream of armed men stepping over the torn and bloodied corpses of their comrades? It was like stepping on a nest of fire-ants and fighting off the biting swarm. What good is it to kill them by the dozens, or even hundreds, when thousands remain?

"We didn't spare the rod while breaking them, and while this one's a virgin she'd seen enough of her sisters taken to know what will happen if she tries to misbehave. Still, I'd keep an eye on her, just in case..." the younger of the two said, and Siha could once again feel the older Kos' eyes on her. But while earlier they'd lingered on her breasts and her nubile hips, he now seemed to be focusing on the straightness of her back, the set of her shoulders and the fine muscles along her limbs.

"Some of those monastic orders do produce fine warriors..." the elder Kos mused, meeting and holding the Hatar's fierce gaze.

Their talk had stirred memories Siha had tried to repress or at least hide. Memories of being an acolyte-sister, honorable and blooded even before the Kosith attack. She knew some of the fire she kept burning in her heart must be flickering in her irises, the hidden will to resist and if at all possible escape the wretched fate the canines intended for her. As the Kos held her gaze she was sure he could see it and expected to be either reprimanded or beaten for showing such subtle but incontrovertible insolence. His own eyes didn't flinch or blink as he held her gaze, breaking it to continue conversing with his guest but not acknowledging what he'd seen in his new slave's face.

"True, but the age when warriors won battles is nearing its end. This is the age when wars are won by cohorts. By generals who approach warfare as a science and who can enforce discipline even in impious recruits."

"Hmm. Sounds a lot like a young officer I had serving under me, who'd rather pour over his ledgers before a battle, rather than offer a sacrifice to the gods." The older Kos remarked.

"He's grown a little more respectful since then. We've taken an enemy who'd never before been defeated as soundly and as thoroughly, and I do not for a moment believe we could have accomplished such a thing without divine assent."

"Well, that's as much humility and piety anyone can expect from a soldier, the Gods included. To your victory..." he said, raising an ornate brass cup to his former subordinate as the two toasted the worst day in Siha's life.

*******

Kneeling on the spacious bed, Siha did her best to keep her expression and bearing as stoic as she could. Not that her new owner could see her face. The Kos knelt behind her, his chest pressed against her back, muzzle buried in her neck as his hands roamed her body in such a way it left little doubt he considered it his rightful property. The behavior of a dominant male, taking what he desired.

She wondered if he would mistake the quickening of her pulse and the tempo in which her bare chest rose and fell for arousal? The Hatar doubted it. The male didn't strike her as foolish enough to believe she would enjoy what was to some. Revolting sights rose up out of memory, as bitter as bile as they flooded her mind with images she'd been forced to witness and unable to forget.

It was a poor comfort to know that what was about to happen to her would be far less shameful and painful than what her sisters had been forced to endure. The rapes had started the moment they'd lost the battle with the canines, and only the maiden sisters had been spared. And she knew even then what fait awaited those of them who were fitted with chastity belts, for she understood the Kosith tongue and the soldiers had speculated on what sort of price a 'fresh' feline would fetch. Fresh, Siha supposed, as opposed to 'used', which the remaining Hatar certainly were - their bodies defiled along with the monastery that had been their home, and every night on the trek to the slave-markets.

And she suspected she was more fortunate than even most of the younger sisters, most of whom had been bought by brothels and who wouldn't remain chaste for long. Part of her wanted to thank her Goddess for sparing her at least some of the pain and anguish, but she hesitated to offer even a silent prayer to Ishtra. It had always been a comfort to know that the great huntress-mother watched over her, but with the powerful male running has hands over her body as he breathed into eh soft fur of her neck, Siha found herself hoping her Goddess couldn't see her like this.

One canine hand was cupping and squeezing her right breast, the powerful paw easily palming the firm mound of feminine flesh. The other had been caressing her belly, seeming to appreciate the layers of hard, fine muscles under the soft fur. If it was a thrill, it hadn't been enough to keep the old canine's hand there, and the young Hatar found her jaw tensing as dull-clawed fingers pushed through the tiny tuft of creamy-white fur covering her mound before settling on the smooth skin just under it.

The touch made her heart race even as her ears folded back in shame at the brazen way the Kos slid his fingers up and down the pink lips hidden between her thighs. She didn't really know much about the act of mating, not counting the vulgar and violent displays she'd been forced to witness since her sisterhood's defeat. But ignorant as she was, she knew that this wasn't it. Bardas wasn't trying to be cruel, but neither was there any kindness in his caress.

It was an expression of dominance, subtle but unmistakable. He was showing her that he could touch as he pleased, and that she couldn't challenge him, and every second that went by with Siha remaining passive, she knew he was being proven right. Even when the paw-pads of his index and ring finger pressed against her folds, pulling them apart so that his middle digit could slip in between them, the once-proud Hatar didn't make a sound, her muscles tensing for a moment as she fought an instinct to flinch.

Her nostrils flared as the wolf's finger explored the delicate pink flesh without harming her maidenhead. It hadn't been the first time the young Hatar had felt a stranger touch her there. Apart from the Kos doctor who'd examined the captured felines to find the virgins among them, the slaves who'd bathed for her first encounter with her new owner had been very thorough. But that had felt different. This was the touch of the male who would take her, and as revolting as the knowledge was, she wasn't surprised to feel herself grow wet.

She didn't want this male, and never would, but her body was nubile, just entering its prime and eager for masculine attention, no matter what opinion her heart or mind held on that matter. And her body's response, she felt, was all the Kos behind her really expected. He gave no indication that he was displeased by her silence, nor did he break it himself. There was really no need. The hardness she felt against her lower back and the base of her tail told her enough of his mood.

The feline did her best to still her breathing, hoping it would serve to help her focus her mind and ignore what was being done to her. Her ears flicked back, folding against her head in an effort to block out the moist noises the Kos' finger made as it dipped in and out of her femininity, for what little good it did her. She knew what would happen tonight, that she would leave her carrying this male's seed within her along with the shame of being taken in such a way.

But it was this delay that she found insufferable, especially because she recognized it for what it was - a display of dominance. With the large canine's muzzle at her neck, and one paw groping her chest while the other prepared her to take him Bardas became a looming figure, invisible to her but for the strong limbs roaming her body. Combined with the heat of his body against her back and the unsubtle hardness just a little lower, it was a message to some part of her that lurked just under conscious thought, insisting that this was a strong male, a worthy mate. She'd been taught to hone her mind along with her body, and she was sure that without such discipline, her own urges and the Kos' touch would have reduced her to a writhing, mewling mess. And even with such discipline to fall back on, she still couldn't slow her breathing, something she doubted the experienced male would miss.

When he finally pulled his finger from her, the digit was noticeably wet in the soft light and the Hatar could smell her own scent on it. The paw that had been hefting and squeezing one of her breasts released it with some reluctance, and it dawned on Siha what was to follow. She'd known what the Kos would do to her the moment she'd entered his room and saw the glint in his eye as he ordered her to disrobe. She had intended to endure her fate stoically, but with the moment seconds away she was surprised by the sudden surge of anger and violence rising up within her, cutting through the confusing anxiety the male had stirred in her with his touch.

Finely-honed muscles tensed as the feline prepared to twist around and leap at the hated canine behind her, her body propelled by a desperate need to keep the Kos from taking what little she had left. But the canine hadn't missed the play of muscles on her nubile body and as quick as she was to raise one clawed hand the male was equally fast, his own paw shooting up with the speed of a serpent and tightening around her wrist.

The Hatar's training was forgotten as she snarled and tried to break the male's grip, thrashing like a feral animal desperate to escape a trap. She found herself being pushed down on to the bed, feeling Bardas pin her arm behind her back as he caught the other flailing limb. She still tried to struggle even with the weight of the larger canine holding her in place, his legs nudging her thighs apart and making his intention clear. He still meant to claim her, and despite her continued struggles she knew deep down that she no longer had any hope of stopping him.

He growled something, an admonishment the Hatar couldn't hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She continued to writhe under the bulk of the male despite knowing how futile it was. She could feel something hard and pointed jabbing between her thighs, knowing it would only be a matter of time until the Kos found his target and took what little dignity the chastity belt had left her with.

The tip of the canine member had been between her folds for less than a second before her owner's body wend stiff on top of her, every muscle tensed before Bardas bucked his hips, sending most of his manhood into the feline femininity. What left Siha's throat was half-way between a scream and a yowl more befitting a feral cat, the pain of having her sex invaded cutting through the haze of mindless rage that had gripped her.

She was no stranger to pain, but she'd never felt anything quite like the burning sensation deep inside her as her maidenhead was torn and her body forced to accept the canine shaft. Siha had little time to get used to it before the Kos mounting her bucked against her once more, sheathing almost the entirety of his length into her and leaving something hard and warm grinding against her folds. The young Hatar had watched too many of her sisters get violated to remain ignorant about just what it was.

Fear twisted her stomach as she remembered the sight of Kosith knots and the sadistic delight with which the soldiers had forced them into their feline captives. The vulgar bulges would draw cries from Hatar conditioned to withstand pain as they were forced in and out of a sex never meant to accept such a shaft. The things would grow larger with every thrust, until they invariably remained lodged inside a feline, binding her to her rapist and forcing her to accept every drop of his disgusting seed.

She could feel the shaft within her move, a little too soon for the young female who was still trying to adjust to the invader. The sensation of it leaving her was almost pleasant, a relief she knew would last all too briefly. She bit her lip in time to stifle another cry as Bardas once again forced the entire length into her, his knot causing her folds to strain as it smacked into them but failed to force its way past them.

There seemed to be no passion to the Kos' rhythm as he began to rut against the feline trapped under him, just a need to find release within that silken tunnel wrapped around his lenght. Siha could feel tears soak into the fur surrounding her eyes, wondering briefly if it was the pain that had coaxed them out, or if she was mourning the loss of what little dignity she'd managed to keep until now. She knew that many of her sisters had suffered worse even before they'd reached the slave markets, and suspected some of them were still subject to even fates even more loathsome than hers. It was a bitter line of thought, and the Hatar was almost grateful for a particularly powerful thrust that sent fresh pain lancing through her abdomen, enough to force her to focus on her own predicament.

The canine cock kept jabbing away at her cervix even as the knot battered at her splayed lips, making her wonder with each thrust if it would be the one that pushes the red lump into her. The rutting Kos increased the speed of his thrusts until the bolts of pain became an ache running through a strange heat building within Siha. She had lost track of how long she'd spent under Bardas, wondering at how much stamina the older male had in the hard body lying on top of her own.

His grunts turning into growls made her wonder if he was reaching the limits of his endurance and if she might be allowed to leave his bedchamber unsullied by his seed. She was proven wrong when she felt something surge within her, an almost gentle sensation of heat as the Kos shortened his thrusts until he was grinding his knot against her. Siha suspected she should be grateful she'd been spared a tie, but she found gratitude in short supply as the male continued to breed her.

She hid her face against the mattress, feeling shame surge within her with every rope of canine seed she was forced to take. She folded her ears against her head, feeling like she wanted to both sob and snarl and knowing that either would have been preferable to hearing the male's mess squirt from around the shaft still embedded within her. Without a knot there was nothing to keep the deluge inside her, and as the warm mess soaked into the soft fur around her privates the Hatar could only clench her jaw as she was marked with the canine's scent.

She could hear both their breaths become slower and deeper, the twitch of the maleness held within her sex releasing less and less of the Kos' seed until she finally felt the hard mass being pulled from her freshly deflowered slit. As the tip slipped out from between her parted lips they leaked yet more of the thick, warm fluid. Her sore sex continued to drip and Siha was surprised that the relief of having the male dismount her was tainted by a strange feeling of emptiness as his mess cooled on her drenched crotch.

She remained laying as she was, hesitant to face the man who'd just taken her virginity. A fresh wave of shame and outrage surged through her at the unreasoning cowardice implied by such reluctance. She'd killed even before the battle with the Kosith, and didn't balk even from meeting the eyes of an enemy as she took his life, so shy would such courage fail her now? Her thoughts were interrupted by a touch on her still sensitive nethers, and it took the young feline a few moments to realize Bardas was running a linen cloth between her legs, trying to clean up the worst of his mess.

It could hardly be called an affectionate gesture, considering that the male had just taken her against her will, but it was one of basic decency and consideration, and enough to put him into perspective. While she'd struggled with powerful, unfamiliar sensations, her mind had built the canine into some malevolent, looming presence, and this reminder that he was just a male when all was said and done gave Siha the courage to face him.

She glared at him through eyes rimmed with tear-damp fur, showing him that while he could do what he wanted with every part of her body, her will was hers alone. Bardas' own eyes had cooled now that he'd spent himself within her, but the male didn't flinch as he held her gaze, resisting the temptation to let his eyes wander elsewhere along the sinuous feline form laid out before him. He turned out to be the first to break the staring contest, getting up and putting on a bed robe before making his way to the door.

"Rhada." He called out along the hallway, the way the sound of cloven hooves on stone followed almost immediately making it obvious that the bovine house-slave had been expecting her master's summons. "Help her wash and get her settled in for the night..."

"Yes, master." The woman responded, and a moment later Siha found herself being helped up by the matronly cow, following the older woman eagerly for a chance to wash the smell of canine still filling her nose and clinging to her body.

Thus ended her first day of servitude.

*******

Why does he persist in these games? The young Hatar thought, grimacing as she writhed on the fine sheets of her master's bed. One of the Kos' paws was resting on her trim belly, no doubt feeling every twitch and quiver of the firm muscles on her abdomen that his other hand was coaxing from the feline's body. This was not his first time bedding her, or the second or even the third and Siha still couldn't puzzle out what her owner got from toying with her this way.

She might have considered it was a matter of power, that he got a thrill out of watching her writhe under his touch. There were those among the Kosith who took a sadistic delight in humiliating others, and she remembered one of her maiden sisters being dragged of by a group of soldiers and forced to use her muzzle to clean one of the elder sisters the canines had used for their fun. But while she could plainly see the hunger the sight of her naked body tensing and bucking stirred in Bardas, he never pelted her with the sort of vulgar taunts their captors had enjoyed, nor did he seem to take a delight in the embarrassment she still felt when she was bared before an aroused male.

He had two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside her, and despite the fact that his paw was almost drenched he still seemed to have no intention of withdrawing them and mounting her. While Siha wasn't eager to feel him enter her she wished he could just take what he obviously wanted and leave her be. When not attending her master, she helped Rhada with the housework, and the Hatar would much rather be sweeping floors than lying on a feather mattress with a naked male trying to...

Truth be told, she still wasn't sure what her master's intention really was. She was hardly ignorant of sex and what a man wanted from a woman, but she still couldn't understand what Bardas could hope to accomplish by toying with her this way. A lover might treat his mate in such a manner, but there was no love, or even any affection between them. She thought briefly that he might feel guilt about using her for his pleasure and that he was trying to satisfy her needs, but she quickly abandoned that notion. Bardas was a Kos through and through, and the idea of slavery never troubled him.

Siha would have been loath to admit it, but the male's touch betrayed an experience with female anatomy greater than her own, and as his fingers stroked and prodded the silken walls of her sex the pleasure had once again grown into frustration. After the first time the pain of taking the large male's member had lessened, and after the second time it was all but gone. But in the wake of physical agony came disturbing thoughts and an anguish that came from her heart rather than her body.

The third time he mounted her she'd actually felt pleasure as the hot, steely length sheathed itself within her. Guilt had followed suit quickly, souring the sensation and filling her with self-loathing at the thought that she might grow to enjoy coupling with Bardas and her new life as a bed-slave. The anger soon shifted from herself to the male on top of her, but the Kos must have read the violence in her eyes because he'd caught her wrist before she'd managed to strike him. She'd expected to be punished for it, but the male had simply pinned her hand and continued to thrust into her.

She was sure the frustration would drive her mad when the canine pulled two glistening fingers from between her folds, keeping his eyes on hers as he positioned himself on top of her. Siha found her eyes sliding along the Kos' body, appreciating the fine form of a warrior who had been careful not to grow soft despite his surroundings. She took in the wide set of his shoulders, the hard muscles along his torso until her gaze settled on the red length bobbing between his legs, the tapered tip sending a few thin, clear streaks across her belly, betraying the male's arousal.

_Finally..._she thought, denying the eagerness the sight of the erect shaft stirred just below her belly and assuring herself that this demeaning ordeal would soon be over. He would mount her, buck and thrust to completion, and then she could wash and return to less demeaning labor. She did her best to ignore her own body's half-understood reactions, such as the way her nipples stiffened as Bardas laid his chest on top of hers, or the way her pulse quickened when she felt the heat of his member resting on her mound.

She held her breath as the male covering her shifted his hips and expelled it as a soft groan when the tip of his shaft found her well-fingered quim. With one smooth stroke he was within her, every inch save for the knot pressing against the smooth lips now hugging the canine length. The old Kos had yet to tie with her and Siha was beginning to wonder if her body could even accommodate the bulbous canine knot. She had to admit to herself, albeit grudgingly, that she was grateful to him for not simply forcing her to take it, like so many soldiers had done to her sisters on their disgraceful trek to the Kosith lands.

She closed her eyes as the male resting on top of her paused to savor the feline femininity wrapped around his shaft, the twitching of the hard member betraying his arousal to the young Hatar. She closed her eyes, like she tended to do whenever her master didn't chose to take her from behind. This depraved parody of mating was causing her to feel things she didn't fully comprehend herself, and she didn't want to give the Kos a chance to get a glimpse at her unguarded thoughts.

With her eyes closed, other senses came into focus - the sharp musk of a male cutting through the sweeter scent of her own arousal, the heat and weight of the hard body resting on top of hers, and once the canine began to move, the frustrating friction of his red length sliding in and out of her velvety sex.

She knew that the physical act of mating was pleasant, that the desires of males and females drove them to explore and savor each other's bodies. And even though her first sight of physical intimacy had been witnessing in stunned horror as her sisters were taken brutally and against their will, during her nights with Bardas she'd realized that despite what her heart felt and her mind knew, her body made its own judgments on what it needed.

And even though it still shamed her to even admit it to herself, it welcomed a male, especially one who obviously had experience with what a female needed. There was a confidence to the Kos' touch, his bearing, and his movements when he was inside her. It was tempting to try and forget what her life had become, to imagine that he was not truly her owner and master, but rather some anonymous lover.

She wondered what it was like for the elder male, working himself up with a clear goal - breeding the female he was with, even though the differences between them made it impossible. It would still be a powerful drive to feel that release and empty himself somewhere tight, warm and wet. She wondered if the coming of her heat would stir something within her - a need to feel his seed flood her even though there could be no child. In the meantime she settled just for focusing on the sensation of that pulsing length working its way past her splayed lips as the walls of her sex slung to the ruby-red surface.

She felt her breath quickening, her chest expanding against the canine's and pressing her breasts against hard muscles with every inhale. She bit her lip to keep herself quiet, knowing just how embarrassing the noises trying to get out of her muzzle were. Her body was responding, seeking what it needed and what the male on top of her could provide. Not true mating, but the sensation of rutting, the heat of a shaft inside her that built and grew with every thrust.

She could feel the bumping of Bardas' knot against the lips wrapped around the canine length, and the way they stretched just a little with every thrust. There would be a mess again, the warm, thick trickle running from her sex and across her tail-hole, soaking into her fur as it went. The sharp and by now familiar scent of his seed as he pumped it into her with every grunt and grind. At least he didn't gloat she thought, remembering the positive delight the Kosith soldiers displayed when admiring their handiwork.

More often than not they'd push their fingers between a Hatar's bruised folds, or under her tail if she'd been that unfortunate, scooping up as much of the gooey mess and smearing it all over the abused feline's face. Or spreading her as wide as they could, so that even those spared such torment (the way Siha had been) could see the thick white mess of one or more males drool from the thoroughly rutted orifice. Bardas would merely wipe her down with a clean sheet of linen, a strange courtesy considering he didn't balk at mounting her against her will.

It was that thought the young feline clung to while the powerful canine worked his shaft in and out of her by now thoroughly wet passage. The responses of her body didn't matter, nor did the miniscule kindnesses Bardas showed her. He was still forcing himself on her using her for his own pleasure even if he did so without the cruelty she'd initially expected.

She held the thought as a familiar tension mounted in her, a frustration she knew must be born out of the conflict between her mind and body. The lure of the senses was strong, beckoning her to forget circumstance and lose herself in the moment. Bardas was attractive, the sort of male she might have found herself interested in under normal circumstances, and maybe more than interested if he'd been a Hatar like her.

Toned muscles began to tense and twitch along her body, and it was only the fact that it was pinned under her that kept her tail from lashing. The Kos had his muzzle buried in the soft fur of her neck, taking in her scent as he panted and grunted into the fine fluff. Siha kept fighting the instinct to lift her muzzle and bare her throat to him, an intimate gesture between two lovers that dated back to a time before sentience.

He's not your lover. Endure, he won't last much longer. She reminded herself, fighting the urge to sink into delusion that she was anything other than a pleasure-slave. It would be easier if Bardas just took what he wanted from her, without this misguided desire to try and stir her passion. And he was getting better at it, learning a little more about her body with every mating. His fingers had been enough to make her drench his paw, and the nimble digits still couldn't compare to the living, throbbing length sawing in and out of her slick passage.

The tension rose, spreading through her body and filling her mind with a frustration so deep she was sure it would drive her insane. Every exhale was ragged now, her nostrils flaring in an attempt to pull in enough air, a task that would have been so much easier if the feline would just open her muzzle. But despite the rapid pace in which her lungs were working, Siha kept biting her lip so hard she was surprised she wasn't drawing blood. She would not let this male reduce her to a panting, whimpering mess. He had already taken so much, she'd be damned if she'd give him that!

Her mind continued to spin, unable to form a defiant thought, so she settled for anger to try and keep back the tide of pleasure. She could feel herself writhing under Bardas, letting out little muffled growls that did nothing to slow the male down. It was useless, of course. She knew that from the hard heat resting on top of her, moving within her in a steady rhythm, every thrust having the same effect on her body as a bellows did on hot coals.

"Haa! Haa! Haa!"

The strange gasps made her ears perk up, and it took her frazzled mind a few seconds to realize that her muzzle had fallen open and they were coming from her. She tried to close it, to silence the weak little noises, but her body was no longer responding, and with every second she felt her hold on her consciousness grow weaker. For a brief moment she was sure that she was truly losing her mind, her will breaking under the struggle of holding back the sensations her body was subject to. And a fraction of a moment later, the tension shattered.

Siha felt like she'd been walking a tightrope over a deep chasm, struggling to use every muscle in her body to maintain balance and with it her life. She had slipped, but as she plummeted all the tension and the desperation to remain in control left her, leaving a bizarre relief in their wake. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her muzzle still letting out those peculiar gasps but she could no longer hear them.

All of her awareness was now between her legs as muscles she never really knew existed stirred to life, caressing the length that was still pistoning in and out of her. They had been taught that smell was a sense that spoke to instinct rather than reporting to the sapient mind the way the others did, and in that moment the young Hatar knew it was true. Her mind was still spinning, but her nose didn't need it to work, and she was shocked by just how much of her own sweet musk she was drawing in with every panting breath.

She felt a twinge between her legs, and then a strange stillness followed by a feeling of hard heat. It didn't seem to matter though, since she felt like her sex was now moving around the member held within her body, pulsing and milking the steely length. She could feel the red organ throb, seemingly in response, each pulse of it making her feel more full until a note of pain intruded on the mind-numbing bliss. Her hand shook, the muscles twitching as she pushed it between her and Bardas, fingers sliding along the slight bump in her flat belly until they reached her lips. Her eyes went wide as she felt how distended her folds were, and how slim and narrow the shaft sticking out between them.

"Easy. It will hurt a little, but you'll be fine..." the Kos said, his voice a rumble in her ear that betrayed his own tension. She realized he was fighting instinct just as she had, holding himself still inside her to avoid hurting her.

In the weight of her first ever climax, her mind was still filled with strange notions, but the idea of being patronized still managed to strike a chord in it. The canine held still, but it was Siha that began moving, pulling her hips back and thrusting them up as best as she could. The swollen ball now stuck inside her tugged on the sensitive lips holding it in, the whole rock-hard length moving if only barely deeper inside her than any male had ever been.

She caught Bardas' gaze, and was sure that he could tell from her look that her behavior was born of defiance, but looking at his eyes, she doubted he'd care either way. He began moving against her, tugging and grinding as his grunts turned into growls. Every time he'd finished inside her so far, the feline had been too frustrated by almost reaching the peek she didn't know existed to truly focus on the sensation.

But in the post-coital clarity she could feel the exact moment when the twitching shaft sent the first rope of canine seed into her, and if she'd had any desire to she could have counted of the throbs that were slowly flooding her womb, especially now that the thick torrent had nowhere else do go but deeper inside her body.

She was surprised when the still grunting canine wrapped his thick arms around her, spinning the two of them around until he was on his back with her draped on top of him. Placing her palms on his shoulders, the Hatar carefully pushed herself up, not fully trusting her still wobbly arms as she sat astraddle of the old Kos. The fact that she was now in a dominant position didn't fool her into forgetting which of them was the master, but it was a different perspective.

Bardas didn't seem to mind the view, his eyes pointed at the firm breasts pushed together between the arms still resting against his chest. They were still a little dim and unfocused, small surprise since she could feel the Kos continuing his climax within her. It was now the older male lying with his throat exposed, and with Siha's paws inches away from it. Despite the occasional tremble in the muscles of her arms, she knew that she could almost certainly move fast enough to get her paws on that bared throat, after which it would only be a matter of unsheathing her claws. The notion ran along the pathways of her mind, but failed to find a violent impulse that would move the feline to bloodshed. Instead she just heaved a sigh and laid herself back on top of the male, avoiding his gaze or any conversation as the seconds slipped by and her belly slowly swelled.

*******

Despite the late hour, Bardas' eyes betrayed none of the bleariness one would expect from a man woken in the middle of the night. They were clear and hard as he regarded the Hatar being held between two of his house-guards, defiantly staring back at him with an equally unwavering gaze. The gall! Captured runaways were usually contrite, hoping such behavior would earn them some lenience.

"How far?" he asked one of his men, morbidly curious about how close Siha had been to escaping.

"Not very. She had the misfortune of blundering into a patrol. Probably would have lead us on a chase otherwise. Your orders, sir?" the man asked, and Bardas let the question hang in the air. He'd be lying if he said he'd been surprised by this, but he'd still hoped it wouldn't happen. He kept peering into those slitted eyes, as their owner kept staring into his, her defiance undimmed even by the catchpole fastened around her neck.

"Ten lashes." He said in a steady voice. Enforcing discipline was the first duty of every officer in the legions, and his even tone hinted at the number of men he'd sent to be flogged, hanged or even crucified. He turned his back on the Hatar and went back to his chambers. Normally, Bardas would have told his men to wait until morning, so that the cries of a slave under the lash wouldn't trouble the sleep of the rest of the household. But he didn't really expect the fierce young feline to cry out, and as the minutes ticked by the silence of the night proved him right.

*******

"Easy! It's not that bad, but you're still better off letting me clean you up..." came a soft scolding from behind her, the tone of motherly concern doing its work and making Siha sit still as the cow dabbed at the tender flesh of her back.

"It's nothing. At the temple, I used to flagellate myself before training every day..." she said, omitting the fact that her own lashing had never broken her skin.

"So is that why you tried running away? To feel the strike of leather on this nice fur of yours?" Rhada chided. Despite the claims of the Hatar that she was inured to pain she made sure to be gentle, because she certainly wasn't accustomed to inflicting any.

"I had to. Do you know what he does to me?" Siha almost spat the question out, hoping it would force the bovine into an embarrassed silence.

"I do." The cow replied, unperturbed.

"And do you have any idea what that's like?"

"I do." Rhada replied, and Siha found herself craning her neck to look over one shoulder. The cow gave her a curious little smile before continuing. "It was a while back. Master Bardas had been awarded this estate before he even left the legion, a rare honor as I understand. I had been a good deal younger back then, my curves a little... well, less generous. I was bought to clean the house of a man who rarely ever lived in it, but on those occasions he did return from some campaign or other, he'd ask me to his bedchamber every now and again."

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she said, regretting the accusing tone she'd used on the matronly bovine.

"Don't be. I actually didn't find those duties all that objectionable. But I don't think Master Bardas found them particularly stimulating..."

"Why?" the Hatar asked, driven by honest curiosity. Middle age had made the cow's figure a bit plump, but it still left a strong hint of what she would have looked like in her prime. Siha suspected she could stir a man's interest even now, and couldn't imagine how she'd fail to do so when her ample curves were firmer.

"Well, I've always been gentle-natured, and I suspect he found me a little too meek in bed..." Rhada confessed, and the young feline could see her point. Despite her powerful build and the fact that she stood almost a head taller than their master, the cow had a quiet, timid manner to her. Siha was sure that she'd never stared defiantly into Bardas' eyes, never bit her lip to keep quiet while she was rutted, and definitely never tried to strike him while he was in her.

"I know it's hard for you, but remember that it could be worse..." the cow continued, and Siha knew for a fact that for many if not most of her sisters, it was. It was a disquieting thought, and one that filled her with a strange sense of guilt for acting out the way she did. The cow's next words seemed to echo her thoughts. "We live in a fine home, our labors do not break us, and we are clothed and fed. Yes, we are slaves, but there are plenty of free citizens who struggle to survive. But if you'll listen to anything I say, then listen to this: the one thing we can least afford is to ignore any kindness we are offered..." she finished. The words had the weight of a life-lesson that had come at great cost, and Siha nodded, remaining silent and pondering the older woman's words as Rhada finished dressing her wounds.

*******

"I am not going to ask you why you ran..." Bardas began, sitting opposite her on a vine-roofed terrace. "...but I am going to tell you not to try again. I am not a cruel man, but I cannot respond to defiance with mercy." He finished, and Siha just kept looking into his eyes.

"Do you know there are men out there who beat their slaves whether they deserve it or not? They believe that it is the only way to keep them in line, to keep them from getting lax, lazy or rebellious. Those men are fools. They do not realize that every time you met out punishment, it means you've failed to instill and maintain discipline in any other way, that you have no authority of your own and must resort to fear of physical pain. I hope you feel as big a failure as I do..." he said, and Siha almost opened her mouth to reply before realizing that it was what the Kos had intended - to goad her into breaking her defiant silence.

"It is a harsh fate that has befallen you, but it is not one that you can't cope with. You are strong enough that you can endure this..." he said, and even though the Hatar knew that this wasn't a taunt, she found it impossible to hold her silence.

"You would presume to lecture me on how to endure hardship? What do you know about it, other than inflicting it on others?" she spat bitterly, a puzzled look crossing her face when she saw a little smile curve the canine muzzle.

"I haven't been born to this..." he said, gesturing with his eyes at the pleasant property surrounding his luxurious home. "I had started out as a common legionnaire, and had gotten just a little further than that when my cohort was defeated..." he began, his gaze becoming a little less focused as his attention shifted to the images conjured by his mind rather than his eyes.

"In the blink of an eye I had gone from being a proud soldier to laboring under the lash of a whip. We were put to digging a ditch and building a palisade, fortifications to keep our foe safe from retaliation, and hopefully good enough to offer them a foothold in our territory. With prisoners around to do the labor the enemy troops had little to do, so they occupied their time by pelting us with stones as we worked. If anyone collapsed from either exhaustion or a blow to the head, they'd empty their chamber pots over the unfortunate soul."

"And yet here you are..." the Hatar accused, but some of the bite had left her tone at the realization that Bardas had suffered such a fate himself. The Kos continued, acknowledging the remark with a small nod.

"I tried to run away as well. Several of us. We failed, of course, and were punished in public - an example to the others who might harbor similar ideas. At dawn, we were hung from tripods by our wrists until our feet barely touched the ground. We were flogged and left there until sunrise the next day. To this day I remember how the muscles in my legs burned with every miserable minute that crawled by, but we dared not relax them. If we did, the ropes would bite into our wrists, and we knew that if blood didn't keep coursing through our hands they would turn gangrenous and have to be hacked off. I remember that the thought of being a cripple had scared me worse than the thought of being a slave for the remainder of my days..." he trailed off, and Siha could see the shadow of the agony pass over his face.

"I was freed around two months later. The enemy had overextended themselves, and after reinforcements failed to arrive their foothold was suddenly a vulnerable position, surrounded on all sides. My destiny hadn't been to be worked to death, like so many of my comrades were. And so I wound up with 'all this'..." he said, smiling a little but not enough to hide a bitter note that struck a chord in the Hatar's own heart. She was a bed-slave, not the mistress of a fine manor, but she still felt the worrisome question rise up in her mind - do I deserve this when my friends have fared so much worse? It was a gnawing, guilty feeling and a strange thing for a master and his slave to have in common.

"Do your people believe in fate?"

"Yes." Siha replied, miserly with her words. She felt uncomfortable sharing her beliefs with a Kos.

"Some think that life is preordained, and that one can't struggle against the pull of destiny. But some of us are just born fighters - we will confront anything, no matter the odds of winning, because we want to test our strength and find out where the limits of our abilities lie. So I believe one can go against fate, just as long as you don't delude yourself into thinking victory is assured."

*******

It had taken the old Kos longer than she figured to feel her eyes on him. Most of the Kosith villas were built to partially encircle a small tiled courtyard, leaving one side open to provide both a view and fresh air. Rhada had told her that the space was used to entertain large numbers of guests, something that most wealthy Kosith did regularly so as to try and further improve their station, and something that her Master only did when circumstances demanded it. The space was now being put to a use she suspected the high-born Kosith would find inappropriate, albeit not in Bardas' presence.

The canine had spotted her when he'd paused to have a drink of water, the wooden sword sitting comfortably in his grip. The size of the faux blade as well as the style in which it was used was unfamiliar to the Hatar, but she recognized the sort of drills one wen through to keep a body in fighting shape.

"I thought you had left the legion." She remarked, a terse if not outright insolent way for a slave to address her master. But there was no anger in the old canine's eyes as he replied.

"I'm fine with a soft life but not a soft body. Besides, a body doesn't get new energy without exhausting the old..." he said, and Siha found herself nodding in agreement. She had stopped to watch the Kos go through his paces out of curiosity, but also some longing. Neither the housework, nor the night spent with Bardas could truly tax her muscles the way a proper session on the training floor always did.

"Come out here..." the Kos said, but to Siha's confusion he turned away to say something to a nearby servant even as she stepped into the center of the sun-bathed courtyard. The slave Bardas had been addressing had dashed away and quickly reappeared carrying something. When the Kos returned to the practice floor he was carrying a real sword as well as the wooden one he'd been using.

"Here!" he called out, tossing the training weapon the Hatar's way. Siha snatched the hilt of the wooden sword out of the air, immediately noticing the weight of the thing. It was blunt, of course, but hard and heavy enough to match the length of naked steel the Kos was holding.

"Here what?" the feline asked, testing the grip of the wooden sword and the way it rested in her hand.

"I'm tired of swinging at air, and you looked like you envied me even that."

"You need someone to spar with? What about your guards?"

"No use. They refuse to press the attack, worried that if they wind up hurting me I'll dismiss them from my service and that they'd never be able to find another employer once the word got out."

"Well, you are an old man. Frail bones and all that..." the Hatar said, a weak jibe considering that she'd seen enough of Bardas' efforts to know he was still more than fit enough.

It wasn't the half-hearted insult that had caused the Kos to move, not with that eager gleam in his eyes. The swing was fast, but it was a simple swipe at head level. Even a novice swordsman would have been able to raise his blade to block the strike, and Siha wasn't a novice. While her mind was still considering whether or not to take the Kos up on his offer, her muscles moved on their own. The sturdy length of wood easily parried the strike, twisting along the naked steel blade and pushing the tip down and leaving the canine temptingly open for a riposte. The young feline ignored the opportunity, instead taking a pace back and settling into a guard stance. She might have scored a good hit, but she wasn't looking for a quick win.

The length of oak in her hand was old and heavy, easily standing up to the impact of a honed steel blade as the two continued to spar. She was aware several of the house guards had come to attend, muttering as they obviously debated whether to interfere every time it looked like Siha was getting the upper hand. A wooden blade couldn't cut, but it could shatter bone and cave in a skull. But none of them worked up the nerve to interrupt their master, and once the two panting combatants finally parted they all scurried away back to their posts.

"It's an ugly thing..." she remarked, pointing at the sword in Bardas' hand as the two drank deep from a jug of cool, clean water. Although 'plain' would have been more to the point. The blade seemed well cared for, the glint of the steel suggesting it could hold a deadly edge, but it was just a straight, broad length of sharpened metal. Bardas merely chuckled at the insult she'd given his sword.

"Yes, I know what you mean - no cross-guard, no curve to the blade to follow the arc formed when one swings it. And something this heavy should probably have better reach. But blades like those are difficult to both manufacture and get proficient in, not to mention that very few can master either."

"So you leave your best to master it." Siha retorted, confused by what the old canine was suggesting. As part of a sect of elite fighters, she could see no flaw in the idea that those with an aptitude for it should pursue martial perfection.

"Yes, war is for warriors. Our people thought the same way, once. But in the meantime we decided that war was for soldiers. And an Empire was born largely out of that idea." he said, catching a sour look on the Hatar's face at the mention of the Kosith empire, but also a curiosity. She had the body a concubine would envy, and Bardas supposed it sometimes made him forget she was a fighter deep down, and likely shared his own appetite for war-stories.

"Every able-bodied young man is expected to serve. We gather our young males in a time of their lives when they have an excess of energy, and little wisdom. When they have a tendency to get destructive without something to do. We focus that aggression outward, to maintain peace in our nation. We return them to the population when those energies are spent. And by then they also learn something about discipline, of how much can be accomplished by following the orders of experienced commanders."

Siha's expression soured at the man's talk of Kosith legions, and the obvious reverence he had for the cause he'd given most of his life to. The Hatar still had memories of that 'aggression focused outward' and wondered if things had changed during the time the old canine had spent in this fine home, or had the years caused a patina to form on his memories, hiding the more detestable details. She might have been driven to anger by his words, but the time spent on the practice floor had left her pleasantly drained. It seemed to energize the old canine, and as Bardas continued to explain how the blades were designed so that they could be made en masse, and in a way to accommodate a fighting style that a legionnaire could grasp fairly quickly given enough drilling, she found herself listening with honest interest, as well as hoping for another chance to spar with her master.

*******

"Why?"

The words hung in the air between Siha and her master, as much of an accusation as a question. She had tried to run away, but this time Bardas didn't send her under the lash. They were in his bedchamber, alone, with the wolf demanding a question the young feline wasn't sure she could answer. She hadn't planned to flee. She'd woken up in the middle of the night, gripped by panic from some unremembered dream.

She was sure it hadn't been a nightmare. She had her share of those and they were always vivid, and always a grotesque reminiscence of that fateful day and the brutal ones that followed. For the past week or so she'd been sharing her master's bed, and on more than one occasion her thrashing and mumbling had woken both of them. At first it had seemed easier waking next to Bardas, the comforting heat of his body next to hers, and the by now familiar scent of the canine's fur. But she knew that was becoming a problem.

Even as she crept out of the room, there had been some part of her that didn't want to go. She felt like something was binding her to this man, and that she had very little time to try and break free of that bond. She'd been caught easily, and the thought of being whipped for the attempt had seemed almost a relief. Pain would clarify things, remind her that she was still this male's slave. It was a line that had become blurred in the past weeks. In both the bedchamber and in the courtyard she'd been growing close to the man she had every reason to despise!

"Answer me!" Bardas shouted, the first time the Hatar had ever seen him raise his voice or lose his temper.

Siha remained quiet, sensing her opportunity. If she couldn't muster the strength to act and sever these ties growing between them, she'd goad the Kos into doing it. She remained silent, watching his chest rise and fall as rage mounted. She held her tongue, looking him straight in the eyes while she waited for his fuse to burn down. When he grabbed her arm and threw her face-first onto the bed she made no move to resist, nor did she do anything when he pulled up the linen shift she was wearing, exposing her behind.

There was no foreplay, no touch or lick that usually marked the beginning of each passionate encounter between them. It wasn't really passion moving him, but anger, and the moment she felt the tip of his sheath press up under her tail she knew what form it would take. And as much as part of her railed against such debasement, she knew it was her last hope to rekindle some of her anger and hatred, a bulwark at these new feelings that threatened to bind her to this man in something stronger than a slave's chains.

She could feel a strong paw press between her shoulder blades, keeping her down even though she wasn't even trying to get up. She could feel the sheath grinding up against the patch of bare skin under her tail and it didn't take long for the tip of the Kos' tapered cock to poke against her so far unviolated pucker.

She clenched her jaw and folded her ears back as her rear was penetrated, the powerful canine continuing to grind his hips against her cheeks as his growing shaft emerged from his sheath directly into her tail-hole. She could feel her pucker strain around the red length, trying in vain to expel the canine shaft sinking deeper inside. She could feel the anger in her master as he ground his swelling sheath against the cleft of her rear, her ears picking up the anger in his gravelly grunts as well as the lust that mounted with every inch of his manhood that sank into a warm, tight feline rump.

By the time Siha felt his knot press against her stretched orifice she felt like someone had pushed a broom handle half-way up her rear, a painful sensation that got worse when a strong hand closed on the base of her tail, yanking on it and pulling her back to meet the Kos' thrust. Siha had to bite off a yowl as the still slim knot was pushed into her already over-stuffed behind, and again when it was yanked out, along with half the red length buried under her tail.

As Bardas began using her she knew what this was. Even when he'd taken her against her will, he'd never truly wanted to inflict pain on her as he sated his needs. But as his growing knot slipped in and out of her speared behind and his growls and grunts filled the room, she knew he was trying to hurt her. Or, more to the point - to hurt her back. When she'd been a mere runaway slave, he'd had his men whip her without so much as batting an eye. The fact he was reluctant to do so again made it clear it was personal for him this time.

She wasn't surprised the bond had worked both ways, and she wondered what it meant for a Kos like Bardas to fall in love with his slave. She only knew that she had to fight it in every way she could. Even if she didn't have her freedom, or a hope of ever becoming free, the feline clutched desperately to her defiance, her refusal to accept this life even though a part of her wanted to. She made sure to focus on the pain, on every ache and sting, on the degradation of being sodomized and used by the male that owned her.

But there were other sensations threatening to break that concentration, not the least of which was her nose. Even though he wasn't inside her sex, the sensation of Bardas' shaft in her body and the scent of his fur brought memories of more passionate moments to the surface. And even though the linens in her master's room were changed daily, with her nose this close to the bed she could pick up the odors of those previous nights - the sharp scent of canine seed, as well as the sweeter musk of her own desire, damning proof of the times she'd been driven to blissful release by the older male's shaft or tongue.

The thoughts dimmed her mind in a familiar way, and the feline found herself biting her lip in the hopes that the pain would cut through the haze and stop what she felt was coming. The rutting Bardas was giving her was still painful, but it wasn't pain that was making het build up in her body. As the steely length sawed in and out of her pucker she could feel the walls of her sex being pressed together, caressing and rubbing against each other as the heavy sack just behind the Kos's sheath slapped against her moist slit whenever he hilted himself inside her.

It was only when the pain had all but faded that the Hatar felt close to tears. Fighting her fate seemed a less daunting prospect than fighting herself, and with every second she could feel herself losing. She no longer cared what Bardas was doing to her - just the feel of him inside her and the smell of him was eroding what little will remained to her. And she suspected that he'd been similarly drained. The grip on her tail was now merely possessive rather than cruel, and his grunts now betrayed exertion rather than anger.

The knot eventually grew too large to slip out, and as it swelled up inside her Siha could feel her heckles rise and her claws unsheathe, piercing the sheets and the mattress as the Kos' shaft throbbed between her cheeks. She felt like she was trying to hold on, as if she could keep herself from going over the edge she knew she was teetering on.

She heard Bardas' groan before the first rope of his seed spurted deep within her knotted rear, and the sound seemed to linger in her ears even as a whimpering noise left her clenched muzzle. It felt strange to feel her sex pulse and twitch around nothing, sending out a few squirts as the shaft lodged under her tail continued to pump her full of that strange heat that quenched. Either seconds or minutes had slipped by, and when she could hear nothing but her and Bardas' panting, Siha spoke.

"I... won't run..." the feline said, an admission rather than a promise. She knew it was true - even the savage rutting of the part of her that had so far remained unspoiled failed to stir the anger she'd hoped to kindle. It was tempting to stop fighting the growing bond between them, to at least try and accept the fact that she was starting to see Bardas as her mate. And with the Kos' seed still surging into her body, the exhausted Hatar gave in to temptation.

*******

Siha prayed silently, so that her breath wouldn't disturb the slender flame of the solitary candle burning in front of her shrine. It had merely been a conveniently flat block of wood she'd pilfered from the kindling pile weeks ago, bearing a crude yet carefully carved image of Ishtra. She'd kept it hidden for some time now, or so she thought, but several days ago Bardas had mentioned that she might want to bring it into what she'd come to think of as their bedroom.

He waited for her even now, reclining on the bed and as naked as she was. As she finished her devotions, the young feline prayed that her Goddess would understand the choices she'd made and the paths her heart had taken. She prayed also for her sisters, hoping that like her they would be able to salvage enough of themselves to find some happiness in the life fate had forced upon them. The reclining canine started to rise as Siha approached the bed, her step a little lighter and her tail swinging along with her hips. He seemed surprised when she pressed the fingertips of one hand against his chest, stopping him-mid way.

"Please?" she breathed out, and Bardas found himself laying back onto his bed even before he'd considered her request.

The corners of Siha's mouth lifted, the Hatar's bare chest rising as she took a deep, steadying breath. She kept her eyes on her master's as she got into bed with him, throwing one graceful leg over his hips until she was straddling the male. She let her gaze slip lower, along the body their sparing sessions kept firm and strong, her nipples stiffening as her eyes eventually fell on the red length laying against the older male's abdomen.

Her hand trembled as she touched it, and she found it strange that she felt so clueless and awkward considering how often that same shaft had been buried inside her. But then again, it had always been Bardas placing it in her, and as she angled the red length upward she felt like she was about to mate for her first time.

But a swelling of heat between her thighs dispelled the notion, as did the thin trickle of her nectar dripping from between the gently parted lips, her body betraying just how badly she needed this. She didn't bother stifling the breathy moan as the tapered tip slipped between those moist folds, her hips lowering slowly as she engulfed her master and lover. The sensation of her sex stretching to accommodate the canine member was familiar by now, but she'd never felt this at ease this early in their coupling.

Up till now it had only been after the tidal-wave of climax that she'd truly been able to relax, brief interludes without tension until the moment past and her will reasserted itself. It was so easier now that she'd embraced the truth she'd known of since she'd felt this bond forming. That even if Bardas were to grant the Hatar her freedom, she wouldn't leave him. Couldn't. she corrected herself as all of him but the knot slipped into her.

Siha just swung her hips back and forth for a while, savoring the way Bardas felt within her before giving in to her body's demands for more. Her back arched as her hips rose, her muzzle parting as her lips clung to the ruby length slipping out of her. A shuddering gasp left her throat as she once again lowered herself onto the canine spire, her lips pressing against the knot but stopping short of letting it slip in.

She saw Bardas reach out, his strong hands coming to rest on her full breasts, the touch of his palms against her nipples making her shudder and throw her chest out. Siha closed her eyes and threw her head back, her hips moving on their own in a steady rhythm as little moans made their way past her lips.

It wasn't their most passionate encounter, and to the Hatar it felt like it had been far too brief, even though she knew it wasn't. Her strength and endurance were formidable, but by the time she felt her climax approach the muscles in her legs were aching, pushed to their limit by the desperate need driving her. Her nose caught the scent of smoke and she realized that her candle had burned down, the wick drowning in a small puddle of molten wax and leaving nothing but moonlight to illuminate the two of them.

Flame had devoured the candle, and Siha felt that the same would happen to her if she didn't quench the heat she felt inside her. She clapped her hands to her lover's, pressing his palms against her breasts as the smooth rise and fall of her hips became more desperate. She knew he was close by the way her lips were straining and still failing to stretch around the swollen knot at the base of his shaft. In an effort to prolong the moment they'd ignored the little signs their bodies were sending them, and missed the ideal opportunity to achieve a tie.

Normally, whenever this happened Bardas didn't bother trying to knot her, and even though she knew he didn't need to burry his entire length in her to achieve release, she also knew that she had to. She needed to take him, every last bit, and pain wouldn't deter her from this. She kept driving her hips down with as much force as she could muster, her folds taking just a little more on every stroke until he finally felt the swollen ball slip in, her lips tightening around behind them and tying her to the male.

Only once he was within her did she realize she'd spent the last of her strength ensuring they were tied. Overcome by both pleasure and exhaustion, the feline laid herself down on top of her lover, their muzzles only inches away from each other until she found even that distance gone. As she kissed the Kos for the first time she fell her orgasm wash over her, a swelling of bliss that had her close to tears.

She made strange little mewling noises into the kiss as her master wrapped his arms around her, almost crushing her against him as his shaft throbbed within her. The silken walls had been milking him since she reached her peak and she soon felt the flood of warmth that her convulsions had coaxed from the male.

It was strange - Siha knew that nothing in her life had truly changed. She was still Bardas' slave, just as she'd had been months ago when she was first presented to him as a gift. And yet she was sure that when the sun rose it would shine on a different pair than it had set on, and that it would be the first day of a new life. A life, Siha suspected, she might find happiness in...