FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Willow hadn't seen a single male since entering the Moult offices. It was surreal, not to mention absolutely thrilling. Already, this place was shaping up to be far different than any other company she'd worked at or interviewed for. The company certainly had earned its mystique and prestige. The fact that she'd gotten this far in the interview process was equal parts exciting and terrifying.

The tawny-furred serval was clutching her shoulder bag's strap rather hard, making furtive eye contact with the workers who passed her by. Everyone, from the well-dressed managers to the hurried interns, looked absolutely stunning. She felt incredibly under-dressed; the pantsuit she'd gotten from a charity shop was not a patch on their attire. Her heart was trying to escape - either up through her throat or straight out her chest, and she was having trouble keeping it down. Could they see that? Could they smell her fear? She was almost positive they could. She probably stank of it.

If they noticed, they didn't seem to show it. No one seemed to look down their noses at her. Anyone who passed by her offered her a warm look and a smile that seemed to be genuine, if not the facsimile of it.

"Where're you off to?"

The serval's green eyes shot to her right, to see a short chinchilla looking to her. She had a calm, confident look about her, and was probably a good decade or so older than her. She looked to be a manager or an executive, judging by the quality of her dark green pantsuit.

"Oh, uh, I'm h-here for an interview!" Willow responded. "I'm looking for Meeting Room 4..."

"That's what I thought. You're very early." the rodent offered a small hand. "You can call me Mrs. Smiley."

"Y-yes Ma'am!" Willow said, taking the paw and shaking it. "I mean Mrs. Smiley."

"You don't need to call me Ma'am, this isn't the army! Or is it?" she barked out a little laugh, a disarmingly joyous one. Willow felt a little more at ease at that.

The room wasn't too far away, thankfully enough. They made a little bit of small talk; or, more specifically, Mrs. Smiley asked Willow lots of questions about her. Nothing too probing, of course, but the chinchilla seemed genuinely interested in the shy serval. She was quick to clarify that it wasn't part of the interview, but Willow couldn't be too sure, so she kept her answers pleasant but to-the-point.

She tried not to let her eyes wander too much as she walked and talked, but she couldn't help the massive blown up magazine covers adorning the walls, of gorgeous models or close-ups of well manicured paws on pastel backgrounds. Pliés was Moult's 'flagship' fashion and culture magazine, one of the few print publications that still survived thanks to having a ton of money behind it, and thanks to turning the print editions into proper boutique items. Each monthly issue of Pliés was practically a coffee table book in itself, lovingly bound and lovingly crafted. Just like every fragrance and cosmetic Moult produced. Willow had managed to get a few second-hand issues herself. Whenever she got a 'new' issue, she would always turn to the last page first. That was where Scáth was always waiting for her. The smoky grey-and-black cobra would be dressed in a fine suit, or a beautiful gown, smiling a smile that turned Willow's insides into tingly mush. It would always be accompanied by a piece of poetry or a little bit of affirming prose; written, Willow assumed, by the CEO herself. She radiated positive ambition. Willow would always stare at her and wonder what it would be like to see her in the flesh. She wasn't expecting that to happen here, of course. She probably never would meet the boss of the company, even if she got hired.

"Here we are." Mrs. Smiley had stopped in front of a glass door leading into a small carpeted meeting room. Cursive letters were frosted onto the door, proclaiming that this was Meeting Room 4X. How many meeting rooms were there, she wondered?

Before she could ponder any further, Mrs. Smiley opened the door for her, and she saw who was sitting and waiting around the table. There were some people that Willow didn't care about or really notice, and then there was _her._Mrs. Scáth herself.

Willow died for about a fraction of a second. Not metaphorically. She knew that was exactly what happened to her. She took a step into the room, clutching her bag even harder.

Scáth snapped one of her fingers, the sound like a gunshot to Willow's ears. A well manicured finger with a deep violet claw at the end pointed directly at her.

"Give me a new tagline for Moult, please." It didn't quite sound like an order, but it certainly was said with urgency.

A less experienced copy-writer might have tried to wing it. But Willow always came prepared with a full suitcase of ideas.

"Uh - Reveal A Better You!" She said. Willow was aware that probably spoke a little too fast, but she sounded confident at least.

Scáth stared back at her, her pale eyes piercing right through her for a moment. She nodded.

"Not a bad start. You'll have time to develop it, if we hire you."

Shit. She just gave away some of her material, without any hesitation. Willow knew that was a bad idea. They could steal that tagline and pay her nothing. And she'd just established herself as an obedient pushover. Bad start, bad start...!

"Please, have a seat," Mrs. Smiley smiled as she passed Willow by to take up a seat on the other side of the table. Willow was alone on her side. The chair both looked and felt way too comfortable for an interview chair. But it did put her slightly at ease.

"In case you're wondering," Ms. Scáth said, "I don't normally sit in on job interviews for low level positions. But I had some spare time, I glanced over your resume, and I thought you seemed quite interesting."

"Th-thank you," Willow squeaked.

"You're welcome," Ms. Scáth responded. "Just pretend I'm not here."

How was Willow supposed to do that?

Ms. Scáth began to introduce the HR team; the people she was supposed to be speaking to. But Willow found it very hard not to look at her. The poised grace with every move she made, like a predator coiled and ready to strike, and yet like a gliding feather. The lustre of her scales was dazzling. Perhaps she'd only recently moulted. And her voice... hearing it in an interview video was one thing, but in person, it made her shiver. She completely missed every single name that was put to her.

"Well, if you're ready," a young-looking ram said, "Let's begin. Tell us a bit about your experience, Ms. Willow."

Willow honestly didn't remember much of what was said during that interview. Her gaze and her attention was magnetized to the cobra sitting behind her interviewers. Luckily for her, she was able to pay just enough attention to answer all of their questions to the best of her ability. When she was asked to share some more examples of her work, she slid over the cardboard-bound portfolio she brought with her and let them peruse.

During that silence, she allowed herself to look at Ms. Scáth a little more. She had to have noticed the cat-girl's eyes on her, her star-struck expression. Scáth was mostly reading her own notes, giving the odd look towards the interview. Willow was certain she was listening intently though. She was getting more and more curious by the moment. Just what was the snake's angle? Why was she here? What did she want from her?

At a certain point, she stood up and walked out quickly without a word. Willow tried not to let it rattle her, even though the sight of her long, thick tail made her quiver and blush. From that point, she found it much easier to focus on the interview and compose herself, even if there wasn't much left to it.

"Thank you very much for your time," Ms. Smiley said, shaking her hand as they stood at the door of the meeting room. "You'll be hearing from us within the next week."

"Thank you Ms. Smiley, I look forward to it." Professional as hell, Willow. Nice one.

Willow kept her head held high as she left. When she received a kind smile in the hallway, she reciprocated with far more confidence. She couldn't remember much of the interview, but she was almost positive she rocked it. They normally didn't say that she would hear back. Often she wouldn't even get the courtesy of a 'Sorry, we regret to inform you' email. The fact that she had been emphatically told she'd heard back was a great sign. She was bound to get an offer. She had a few more interviews for a few more companies, but she fully planned on phoning them in. It'd be very difficult to convince her to take another job, if she was offered it.

The sounds of traffic assailed her as she exited the office building. She hated the city. Luckily she was only a short train commute away from the comparatively quiet little hamlet-turned-suburb she lived in. She checked her phone. The next train was in about 20 minutes; she could make it if she walked quickly and didn't get stopped.

A tiffany-blue limousine pulled up to the kerb beside her, and a door slid open to reveal a spacious seating area. It looked like a vintage car with its art deco curves and its canvas roof. For a brief moment, she imagined what it would be like if the car was for her. That thought was dissolved by the most delicious perfume she'd ever smelled in her life. Someone brushed past her and stepped into the back seat of the car. It was...

Ms Scáth's tail brushed against Willow's ankle. She could almost swear it curled around her for a second. She froze on the spot, her fur puffing out as though she was fresh out of the tumble dryer. She mumbled a "sorry" that must have gotten lost in the din of the other vehicles on the street, and turned to leave.

"Hop in," the woman called from inside the car. "Come on."

Before Willow could think, her body obeyed. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Ms. Scáth was sitting directly in front of her, and gestured to the cushioned seats on the other side. Willow raced to it and sat down quickly, trying to look anywhere but the snake's eyes. She didn't sit directly across from the cobra - their legs might have touched otherwise.

"Where are you headed to?" Ms. Scáth asked. She sounded just a touch less business-like.

"Oh, uhm... Primrose Station."

"Mm, not too far out of the way. Good. Driver, please take us there."

The car pulled off so smoothly, Willow wouldn't have realized they were moving if she didn't look out the window.

"Th-thank you," Willow stammered. "You're very kind..."

"Don't worry about it too much," The snake responded. "I try to do five little acts of kindness a day."

"Oh, that's nice," Willow responded. That's nice? Come ON Willow.

There was silence for a time. Willow started to feel like she was in the fanciest taxi she'd ever been in. Ms. Scáth was silently reading something nestled in a hard-cover book. Willow was too polite to ask.

"These are the proofs for next month's issue," Ms. Scáth explained, unprompted.

"Oh, wonderful." Willow responded. "I can't wait to read it!"

"It should be good," Ms. Scáth responded. "I still need to write the Affirmation column, so I'm looking for inspiration."

"Oh, I love those!" Willow said.

No response. All of a sudden, she felt like she was being interviewed all over again. Her gaze could not settle in one spot. She looked at the floor with its rough wool carpet, at the velour-upholstered cushions, and at the skylight on the ceiling.

Whenever she glanced down, she swore that Ms. Scáth's tail had shifted just a little bit more towards her, imperceptibly. Almost shyly. Like a kid on a date with their crush, working up the courage to hold hands.

She felt the tail drape over her foot and curl around her ankle. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up, and -

The door opened. Willow glanced away from the cobra and towards the aperture. They were at the station. Willow practically leapt to her feet, almost banging her head. The tail sloughed off her ankle without any resistance.

"Thank you so much for this, Ms. Scáth!"

"Of course." she smiled, and Willow tried her best not to melt or giggle. "Have a safe trip home."

"Thank you, goodbye!" Willow scrambled out of the door and shot upright, turning to give a little wave before walking, quick as she could, to the turnstyle. Her hands could not stop shaking as she fumbled with her train pass and ambled through the gates. Her heart was fluttering like a rabbit's, and her throat was seizing up and keeping her from calming down.

She did, eventually. But even then, star-struck obsession still had her, tightly in its grip.

The serval couldn't stop thinking about the scent, and the touch. She tried to commit it to memory on the journey home. She couldn't stop smiling, thinking about it. She was radiating joy, so much so that everyone around her seemed to notice. She was beaming, her legs fidgeting, and was blushing bright red. She murmured to herself too, re-capping what she'd said to the cobra, and what she'd said back. She was so absorbed in the memory, in fact, that she only realized she missed her stop the moment the train was pulling out again.

"SHIT!" she cursed, racing to the door and mashing her paw against the round button to open it. No joy. It was locked, and they were in motion.

"Piss..." she sighed, looking back to see several pairs of eyes staring at her throughout the carriage. Some of them politely averted their eyes. Others kept staring. She remained standing, close to the door, awkward and self-conscious.

The memory of the encounter with Ms Scáth brought a smile back to her face before long.

Whenever her phone pinged over the next few days, she was very quick to check it. She had set up a specific chime for whenever she got an email specifically, and would snatch it as soon as she heard the tell tale sound. It was usually an offer from her local pizza place, or a newsletter. None of her friends ever contacted her there. Really, who even used email for casual stuff like that anymore? It was all business and junk mail.

She would even check it over and over in bed, staring at her inbox app on her phone until her eyes got too heavy to stare at the screen. She placed her phone on the bedside table - next to the open issue of Moult, turned to the last pages - and closed her eyes for sleep.

She didn't know exactly what the dream was. All she remembered was Ms. Scáth telling her how she was a very, very good girl. Her praise would ring in her ears, the only memory of the wet dream. It was_always_ a wet one too. Each time she had it, she woke up with her thighs soaked in the leavings of an orgasm.

She had these dreams in the past of course. But never this frequent, never on consecutive nights...

--

On the fourth day, she got an email from Moult's Recruitment.

Dear Willow,

Thank you very much for your time. We were very impressed with your interview, as well as your portfolio. We would be delighted to offer you...

Willow grinned from ear to ear.

...an opportunity to take part in the final round of interviews.

"Final round?" Willow said out loud. The interview was supposed to be the final round. What changed?

"For fuck's sake..." she sighed, slumping back in her chair. The hardness of the chair reminded her that she was in a coffee shop. She looked around, seeing that once again, numerous eyes were on her. Including a poodle woman who was covering her young child's ears. Willow grinned wide and mouthed an apologetic 'sorry' before going back to the email.

Please confirm if you will be able to attend an interview in the morning tomorrow. We will give you more information upon confirmation.

All our best,

_Sarah

Pronouns : She/They_

_HR and Recruitment Assistant

Moult Beauty_

Willow's fingers pecked at her phone as she hastily typed a response.

Hi Sarah,

Thank you for your email. I would be delighted to attend. The whole morning shits me just fine. I look forward to hearing back.

Yours,

Willow

It was only after she sent the email that she noticed what her phone auto-correct had put in instead of 'suits'.

"FUCK!"

She could hear the poodle mother's loud tut from where she sat. She stood up and took one last drink of her coffee before racing out the door with her tail between her legs. She'd fucked up now. Really fucked up. Maybe they wouldn't notice; they'd just read the message without scanning it in detail. Emailing to correct it would be a terrible idea. That would only draw more attention to it...

Her phone pulsed. At first, she thought it was an email, but with the second, then the third vibration she realized it was a phone-call. The Caller ID said 'Moult Ltd.'

She took a deep in-breath, then a shuddering out breath, before answering the phone and putting on her best customer voice.

"Hello?"

"Hi," a bright voice on the other end said. "This is Sarah from Moult. Thanks for getting back to us so fast!"

"Oh, hello, uh, th-thank you for calling!" Willow realized her voice was extremely loud, and tried to modulate it.

"I'm just calling so we can arrange a pick-up for you in the morning. I'd just like to confirm your address for the driver."

"The driver?" Willow choked.

--

The next morning, Willow was waiting outside her front door. She'd grabbed a bottle of water from the shop which her flat sat under, and was bouncing on the balls of her paws. The half-drunk bottle crinkled and crumpled in her hands. She couldn't stop playing with it. She would have to throw it away quick. She had made even more of an effort to dress up; she blew a not-insignificant amount of money on a beautiful sea-green sundress yesterday. The bottle of water stuck out like a sore thumb.

Once she'd downed the rest and pitched the bottle, Her next nervous tic was to keep checking her watch. The driver was scheduled to arrive around 9, and it was five-minutes-to now. She'd been waiting outside for the last ten minutes. A cocktail of nerves sloshed around in her head, about five parts excitement to 1 part terror. This special treatment meant something big was in store for her. Just what was this interview going to involve, she wondered...

She saw the blue limo a mile off. Her heart raced for a moment as she realized that this was to be her ride. Would she be riding with...?

The carriage was empty. Her heart sank a little, both with disappointment and relief. She was half-hoping the snake would be waiting for her inside. At the same time, she felt like it was too early for her to deal with Ms. Scáth again. Well, deal with wasn't the right word... Bask in her presence? Bask. Yes, that fit a little better.

The driver didn't speak to her for the whole ride. She kind of wanted to say something, but ultimately decided not to bother him. Instead, she looked out the tinted windows. She expected to be heading right back to the offices like before. Where else could she even have the interview?

The limo took her into the city centre, but quickly seemed to be veering off course from the offices. Her confusion only deepened when the limousine came to a halt outside one of the ritziest residential blocks in the city. One of those old historic buildings from the turn of the last century with burgundy bricks and filigréed moulding around every window. Each square metre of this place was worth more than everything Willow had ever owned.

Even though she was putting two and two together now, the serval didn't quite want to assume a thing. The door was opened for her by a waiting attendant, a doberman woman dressed in jet-black. As Willow passed and offered her an unreciprocated smile, she noticed her eyes were purple. That was unusual.

The same thing was true with the robin girl who opened the next door for her, and accompanied her into the marble-floored elevator. The proximity and the silence was too much for Willow.

"S-sorry, but am I here to see Ms. Scáth?"

"Yes, My Lady thought it would be best if she interviewed you at her home office.

"Oh, that's... nice." Willow murmured. My Lady? What an odd choice of words...

She was escorted down the brightly lit corridor, past doors with polished brass number-plates, until she was brought to apartment number 554. Willow was ushered inside after the bird girl unlocked the door.

The apartment definitely seemed much bigger on the inside. Every piece of furniture and every surface was opulent and intricate, and polished to a mirror sheen. It was like an immaculately kept wing of a rococo mansion, excessive to the point of almost being tacky. It wasn't Ms. Scáth's style, at least, she wouldn't have thought that.

The robin led her down the hallway and into a living room festooned with soft, downy chairs. Ms. Scáth was sitting in the middle of it, leaning forward and tapping away at a laptop on a stone coffee table. She was dressed formally, in a suit that Willow was positive she had seen - both in the magazine, and in the faintly remembered dream. She had a bowl of almonds next to her, and had just slipped one into her mouth. Their eyes met, and Willow felt another star-struck shiver flow through her.

"Your 10 o'clock, My Lady," the bird said from behind Willow, turning and leaving without another word.

"Thank you, Sarah," Ms. Scáth responded after quickly finishing the almond. "Please, Willow, have a seat wherever you like. Would you like tea? Coffee?"

"Uhm... n-no thank you, My L- Ms. Scáth."

"Good. Now sit."

"O-Ok." Willow's words were tumbling awkwardly from her mouth, and she was still hesitant about taking a seat. Her legs felt locked, and her feet felt like they were sinking into the lava-red rug. It was a terrifying sensation, but she managed to power through it and take a seat in the least-comfortable looking chair. Even that chair was gloriously comfortable, like she was sitting on a big marshmallow. She resisted the urge to moan, but her wide eyes gave away her pleasure.

"It's a good chair, isn't it?" the cobra said. "I think it's a good idea to spoil my employees once in a while."

"Employees? You mean-"

"You're hired, yes." Ms. Scáth was still typing away. "I'm sorry, just give me a moment. It won't be longer than five minutes. Then we can start to discuss your working arrangements.

"F-fantastic, thank you!" Willow nodded quickly, beaming from ear to ear. She tried not to stare at Ms. Scáth, instead electing to look around the room at the framed prints of famous landscape artists and blown-up photographs of the CEO with grinning celebrities or relaxed family members.

Why wasn't this a phone call, though? Surely they didn't need to go through all this to offer her a job. Unless...

The thought made Willow's heart skip a beat. No way. That wasn't going to happen. Perish the thought. She had to keep that relegated to her dreams.

Her eyes ended up alighting on the journey of one of the almonds in the glass bowl. Pinched between those slender fingers, slipped into the snake's mouth. She had such beautiful hands, and a luscious mouth...

Ms. Scáth noticed her staring, and gave her a smile. Her eyes were dazzlingly beautiful, even from across the room.

"Are you all right? You sure you don't want some tea or something?" she asked. Her eyes were so deep. So violet. So...

Willow caught herself.

"E-excuse me a moment, may I go to the bathroom?" she asked.

"Of course," Ms. Scáth said, not looking up. "It's just down the hall on your right."

Willow tried not to walk too fast. It wasn't an emergency... well, no, it kind of was. She entered the bathroom, turning the brass handle and letting the shell-shaped basin fill with water before splashing some on her face. There was a hand towel nearby, and she buried her face in it, ruffling her fur dry as quickly and thoroughly as she could.

She already had the job. This was just going to be a nice leisurely chat. There was no need to get stressed. No need to embarrass herself. She looked at herself in the mirror.

"You're okay, Willow," she whispered. "You're okay."

It was then that she noticed something in her eyes. Or at least, she thought she noticed something. Had her eyes gotten a little darker? Or a little less green, a little more blue? She peered at herself, rubbing her eyes for a moment before looking again. Yes, they looked just a touch different.

She chalked it up to the lighting in the bathroom and made her way back to the living room.

When she did so, she saw that Ms. Scáth was waiting for her. The laptop was closed, and she was sitting back on her couch, her legs crossed.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Willow said as she sat back in the chair, her hands neatly resting on her thighs. "So... uhm, what can I help you with now?"

"I'm just interested in learning a little bit more about you. I know you've told every interviewer so far why you're interested in working with Moult. But... there's more to it than what you've told me."

"Is... is there?" Yes there was. Willow knew it.

"Yes." Ms. Scáth's legs started to uncross. Her eyes were unblinking. And just as beautiful as before. "I knew that from seeing the interview videos, and from seeing you in person."

"R-really?" Willow rasped. "Well, I mean, I do look up to you."

"You do more than that," Ms. Scáth continued. Her legs uncrossed fully. Willow fought the urge to look up her skirt. "It's all right. You can admit it. I brought you here for that reason.

"Mmnh, I mean, haha, well, you..." Willow stammered. She couldn't look away from the snake's eyes. Anywhere else would have felt like a massive faux pas.

"It's all right. I brought you here to make you a different offer. You have a job with Moult of course, but there's another role that I think you would be very suitable for."

"There is...?"

"Yes. Come here."

Willow stood up and approached. It didn't feel strange that her body was moving automatically. In fact, it felt pretty nice...

"Good girl."

"Nnngh!" Willow shivered, her body clenching with a paroxysm of pleasure, like a miniature orgasm.

"Very Good Girl."

She groaned even louder that time, unable to take her eyes off of the CEO's. Ms. Scáth's hood was flared open, and her eyes were spinning. Two whirlpools of purple and black, rippling and swirling and shifting in such dazzlingly beautiful patterns, like a nebula in a pitch-black sky.

Willow... had seen these before. She was sure of it.

Willow remembered seeing them in the car a few days before, as Ms. Scáth's tail crept up her leg and between her thighs.

She remembered seeing them in her dreams as she stripped for the snake.

She remembered seeing them in a video call she had with Ms Scáth just before bed, being hypnotized to sleep and conditioned...

As those feelings flooded back into her, her legs buckled inwards and she fell to her knees. The cobra shifted forward quickly with an arm out, hissing. But then she relaxed again.

"Be careful, you almost hit yourself on the coffee table. Be mindful, like a Good Girl should be."

"Yes, My Lady," Willow mewled, just drinking in the colour of her sparkling scales and her glimmering eyes. She shuffled closer, carefully manoeuvring until she was kneeling just before Ms. Scáth's spread thighs. The scaly tail had crept under her shirt and was sliding around her waist and hip. The touch made Willow shiver and mewl softly. It was electric. She felt the familiar wetness she felt every single morning for the past few days.

Ms. Scáth leaned forward, placing two long fingernails just under Willow's head to keep it lifted. Willow allowed herself to rest against it, sighing with delight.

"Very. Good. Girl." Ms. Scáth said, each word like a bullet of pleasure right into the serval's head. Her thoughts were scattered apart, her mind flooded with the memories of every trance that had been gently plucked from her mind, and were now being poured back in. Ms. Scáth's other hand rested on the top of her head, stroking her like she was a kitten. Willow chirped and mewled. The snake's tongue flitted out for a moment, and a dark satisfied smile spread along her beautiful face.

"Now, tell me, Good Girl, what sort of role do you envision for yourself?"

"Serving... you, My Lady." Willow responded, beaming.

"Yes, of course, but how do you envision yourself serving me."

"Oh..." Willow was finding it very hard to think of anything aside from staring, and letting that tail wriggle between her thighs and stroke her netherlips. "A-ah..."

"Well, you're a talented writer, that much is clear," Ms. Scáth continued. "And most of the more conventional servant roles are already filled... so I was thinking perhaps you could write some original material."

"F...for the magazine?" she mewled, curiously.

"No." there was that beautiful smile. "Just for me."

"F-for you, My Lady...!" Willow practically squealed with delight. The idea of getting to praise Her Lady all day positively thrilled her. She could already feel the words forming in her mind, the myriad ways she could praise her. There was so much to write about Ms Scáth. She could write a whole book of poetry about her hands alone...

"Excsssellent," Ms. Scáth whispered. Her hiss filled Willow's mind with fuzz. She could feel unconsciousness starting to take her away again, and with it the sudden fear that she was about to forget everything again.

"M...My Lady..." she whimpered, her face screwing up with both arousal and sadness.

"What's the matter?" Ms. Scáth's paws were so soothing, keeping her face cradled and staring into the gorgeous eyes.

"Please... don't make me forget again..."

"Of course not, Good Girl." Ms. Scáth said. "Don't worry. You won't forget a thing. Your whole job will be to remember every little moment.

Her long fingers stroked Willow's ears, the bridge of her snout, her muzzle. Willow felt like she was about to cum again. Her lips opened in a wordless plea, her swirling eyes quivering...

"When you come this next time, Good Girl, we will have entered into a non-written agreement. You agree to serve me, and write me poems of praise. At least ten a week, but you can manage more. You will be paid the rate you would have been paid in my company, and will live on site here with me. Do you agree?"

"Yes... My Lady." Willow nodded.

"Good Girl," Ms. Scáth said. "Cum."

Willow let out a beautiful wail, and her contract was signed.

--

"Uh... so is she a reporter, or?"

"Quiet, please."

The good thing about writing with pen on paper was that it left one paw free to stroke between her legs. Willow let the words flow, gazing upon Her Lady's reclined. The muscular bear massaging her back was practically invisible to her. Her purple eyes were totally and utterly focused on capturing her beauty. She had a system by this point. She would write everything she could see, everything her body reminded her of, and assembling a wealth of material. From there, she would begin to put it into shape. She would get at least two sonnets out of this one, that much was certain. Her Lady would love them.

Each time she completed filling out one piece of A5 sized paper, she allowed another finger to slip inside herself. A previously-agreed upon incentive by Her Lady. She was only allowed to touch herself while writing, after all; it was a very powerful incentive. It even made it easier for her to write. Her Lady thought of everything to bring out her best.

Naturally, cumming was out of the question. Not until she was commanded to. She hadn't came since the contract was first signed. But after 30 or so poems, Her Lady was bound to take her aside and make her finish at some point.

Even if she didn't cum, she didn't really mind. Being called a Good Girl by Her Lady was better than sex. Far more rewarding.

She never expected to end up doing something she loved, _truly_loved for a living, and yet, here she was. Casting her eyes over every detail of the snake's gorgeous frame, committing every little bit of her to written memory. Painting her with words, so she would live forever. It was the least Willow could do for her, and she was more than happy to do it.