FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Tsarmina the lioness smirked at the jaw-dropping stares of a late-night patrol as they passed her in the marble corridor. Slinking her hips from side to side, she padded past the two soldiers as naked as the day she was born, the cool castle air flowing over her bare fur, every bit as regal and elegant as the royalty she was.

After a few steps she stopped and turned her head, glancing back at them with a wickedly innocent smile. "Yes, guards? Is there something I should know of?"

The canine on the left jerked to attention first, smacking his partner hard in the ribs with an armoured elbow, averting his rightfully-fearful eyes straight up at the ceiling. "Err, no yur majesty, princess Tsarmina. There be nothin' untoward."

Her eyes settled on his colleague, the hapless male transfixed by the sublime female form of his princess. Obviously a new recruit. She turned to face him, standing casually, making no effort to hide her assets. "Yes? Is there something you would say?"

His eyes dropped straight to her bare breasts, wide and transfixed.

Smiling again, she strode right up to the greenhorn and stopped a breath away from him. She stood up on her toes, pushed her chest out towards him, and purred softly, "touch me, if you so desire."

His collegue watched in open horror as the dog's rough paws lifted to grasp her chest, pawing her shamelessly, rubbing hard pads across her nipples, his face lit up with delight.

Tsarmina purred loudly, staring into his glazed eyes, holding her chest forwards for his rough, boorish touch. She let him grope her, and allowed herself a hiss of pleasure, but only one, then the princess stepped nimbly back from the grinning male, and with one blurring swipe slashed her claws straight across his exposed throat.

The soldier dropped to the marble floor with a clatter of armour and a horrible gurgling wail, clutching at the foaming blood coursing from his neck. His colleague backed away, mortal fear etched on his face. He turned and ran, leaving his fellow soldier to drown on his own life.

Tsarmina bent down to wipe her claws on the writhing dog's tunic. She licked them clean when she stood back up, purring, and watched the last of his life flow out onto the white marble. She simply turned her tail, and without a backwards glance strode off down the corridor. There were no more encounters on the way. She passed though empty hallways and grand staircases lined with sconces that burned their charred, paraffin smell into the air and left a dark wisps of smoke trailing along the ceilings.

At last, she sighted the king's door. Situated beneath a grand archway, the royal bedroom was as grandly appointed as any would expect. Golden engravings of the Tisarma family arms adorned the wood; a sceptre held in the paws of a roaring feral lion.

"So, you have finally let it come to this, then."

Tsarmina didn't turn around. She knew the old Vixen's voice, could smell her vulpine scent clear as day in the air, and hear the rustle of a long, gypsy-style dress behind her. "Greetings, Varla. Where are your manners?"

"I don't suppose you'd let me live if I were to tell you what your mother would have thought?"

Her paws tensed with the flash of rage that hit her, and she barely managed to keep her claws sheathed. Tsarmina's voice dripped with sickly-sweet anger. "No, I don't suppose I would. Queen Hessina is dead, dead and gone from us. I do not think her opinions matter any longer, do you?"

The vixen spoke softly. "You will never call her 'mother' again, will you, and I would wonder at your actions? Nay, for they were decided by her deathbed, were they not?"

Tsarmina wheeled on the greying, aged vixen; eyes burning, claws unsheathed, fangs bared, and with a snarl building in her throat.

Varla stood demure but dignified in the centre of the corridor, a green dress of the kind she wore fallen about the fortune-teller's wiry old figure, her once magnificent coat of fiery orange fur laced with white and grey."Do you remember the stories I used to tell you when you were cubs, by the fire in your nursery chamber?"

"I remember your lies," Tsarmina spat, "lies and untruths that poisoned the gullible and weak of mind."

Varla smiled, but with deep sadness. "Those like your brother?"

Tsarmina composed herself, her nudity all but forgotten, and controlled her anger. "You would know, would you not?"

"Yes I would. I know that Denmien is gentle, kind, and ignorant of how twisted the soul of his once loving sister has come to be." Varla looked the lioness up and down with knowing eyes. "He will not have the will to resist you, of that I am certain; the pleasures of lust are too new to him, for his taking of a mate has not been permitted, and his own shy tendencies have prevented otherwise."

The vixen padded silently across the marble, seeming to drift with her dress to the side of the chamber door, where she stood and bowed her head towards the lioness, clasping her paws as though in prayer. "If you enter his chambers on this night, then fate decrees you will have what you desire, and will bear the fruit of your brother's loins in two heirs; one male, one female. These inbred heirs will bring you and your kingdom great suffering, Queen Tsarmina of Tisarma, but none compared to that of your sibling, your brother, your lover; King Denmien. Your seduction of him will be the unravelling of the long, prestigious line of Tisarma, and the end of your rule. So speaks the eternal fates, and their voices though my own."

Tsarmina was half way towards the vixen by the time Varla looked up. Grabbing her by the throat, Tsarmina lifted the old vulpine straight off the ground like a bag of feathers. She grinned wickedly at the stricken look of shock in the fortune teller's eyes, gripping the frail twig of her throat, flexing the straining muscles of her arm. "Shall I silence your lies forever, Varla? One twist, one jerk of the wrist, that's all it will take. I am not a cub any longer, as is plain to see by looking at me. I do not have to swallow any more of your filth."

"...wouldn't..." Varla choked, her paws lifted to pull weakly on the lioness's powerful grip.

Tsarmina smiled, and increased the pressure on the vixen's throat. "...kill you?" Her voice became low and incredibly dangerous. "You know nothing of how little I have come to value the lives of those who anger me, and the dearth of patience I have left for them."

Varla's struggling intensified, her feet kicking out from under her dress, her eyes burning with the manic light of pure survival; the light that Tsarmina had come to savour most. For a long, lasting minute the only sounds in the corridor were the vixen's choking and the soft rustle of her dress.

Tsarmina whispered gently and earnestly to the struggling vulpine. "It would be so easy for me, you see? So easy to snuff your life away, as easy as a candle flame dying under brass."

She opened her paw, and the vixen fell to the floor with a crack of old bones striking marble. Varla's cry of pain echoed around the high, vaulted roof. She lay for a moment, shuddering, and gingerly tried to pick herself up.

"Remove yourself from my sight." Tsarmina kicked out with her bare foot, catching the vixen on her shoulder, sending her crashing sideways onto the solid floor. "Your queen shan't listen to any more of the waste that emerges from your mouth. There will be no place for your kind under my rule. You shall see that soon."

Varla's head lay on the marble where she'd struck it. Slowly, somehow retaining her air of dignity, she picked herself up and limped to the nearest corner. Before she vanished around it, her eyes caught Tsarmina's one last time. Instead of anger or hate, the only thing the lioness saw in them was great sadness and profound regret.

Wasting no more time, Tsarmina slunk over to her brother's chamber doors, and slipped between them with silent feline stealth.

The huge four-poster bed that had belonged to their parents sprawled at the far end of the room with heavy velvet curtains drawn closed around it. The ornamental extravagance of the room was lost in the secluded darkness, but Tsarmina's excellent night vision let her slink on tip-toes across the thick rugs and chests overflowing with jewellery and gold-embroidered scrolls.

She heard his breathing through the curtains, slow and even, still fast asleep. Her whole body tingled with apprehension and excitement; her nakedness only adding to the heat of arousal taking hold over her. By the time she reached the side of his bed her nipples were solid, hard nubs aching to be touched.

Carefully, silently, she drew the curtains aside, and laid eyes on the sleeping form of her sibling.

The diminished looking lion lay in the very centre of the bed, an insignificant lump in the middle of the huge plush covers, his head turned away from her on a single pillow.

Her tongue licked across her fangs. Poor Denmien, she thought. So incapable of ruling, so nieve and vulnerable. Do not worry, my brother. Make me your queen I will lift all from your shoulders.

Queen Tsarmina. She savoured the words, the sound of them, the implication of total dominance and unquestioned rule. So close now, close enough for her to reach out and sink her claws into.

With smooth, unyielding grace and agility she lifted the covers and slid her foot carefully into his bed. Watching him raptly for any sign of wakefulness or disturbance, Tsarmina climbed slowly beneath the covers, entering a world of dark, soft fabric that rubbed her naked fur, and filled her nose with the strong scents of her brother.

She moved alongside him, and brought her head slowly out from the covers, fixing her eyes to his mane of sandy hair. Her paws crept to his fur, and with tantalizing ease found the key to her rule, her queendom, and her brother's submission; the lion's limp loins warm between his legs. Claws sheathed, she fondled him gently, exploring her brother for the first time.

The shaft of muscle twitched and jerked in her paws, filling with heat, lengthening to its fullest under her touch. He growled softly beside her, his legs shifting under the covers to allow his loins the space they needed.

Her paws stroked his arousal until drops of wetness emerged from its tip. Tsarmina settled herself against his back, spooning him, and nestled her muzzle into the crook of his neck. She purred deeply and loudly, her breasts against him, her feet rubbing along his legs, her toes dragging through his course fur.

He rumbled with pleasure, shifting unconsciously to welcome her embrace and her touch.

Tsarmina closed her eyes, and began lapping the back of his neck with her rough tongue, brining him slowly awake.

He gasped sharply as her fingers stroked the sensitive tip of his lionhood, and his head turned on the pillow, bringing his wide, shocked eyes into his sister's serene smile.

"What, who- Tsar!?" His whole body jerked violently away from her, but her muscular arms and legs clutched around him, holding him fast.

"Shhh..." she soothed, redoubling her stroking and fondling of his loins, leaning forwards to nuzzle his cheek with her own. "It is alright, all is well."

"Tsar...!" he gasped again, his body bucking involuntarily, overwhelmed by her touch, raw fear shining in his eyes.

"Poor brother," she crooned gently to him, "always so good, so obedient, never knowing a female's touch, all alone in your bed, night after night..."

"*huff*, I, ah, Tsar!" He gasped, his lionhood jerking and leaking against her paws, his pupils dilated, his gaze drifting upwards to the ceiling.

"Our kingdom needs a queen we can trust," she whispered, nuzzling him affectionately, entwining herself with him, "a queen who loves you, who knows you."

"Ah, uh, Tsar, I..." his eyes fluttered, and the breath caught in his throat. She eased her stroking, knowing she was close to spilling his precious seed.

His gaze dropped back to hers like a frightened animal searching desperately for reassurance.

Tsarmina pulled him into a tighter embrace, bringing them together in their parent's bed. "Touch me, feel me," she breathed into his ear, licking him, "I can feel your lust, your desire, don't hide it from me. Show me, let it all come forth."

His trembling paws slid across her back and down to her rump, feeling the curve of her buttocks. She purred louder, genuinely enjoying the sensation, basking in the certainty that she was winning him over. The heat between her thighs blossomed when his paws found her breasts, every brush of his fingers over her nipples sending shivers of ecstasy through her, making her hiss and writhe erotically.

He turned in her arms to face her, and she let him, pulling him closer to her. She gazed into his eyes, inviting him, encouraging him, slipping her fingers around the sensitive head of his erection, their breathing so close to each other's faces that she could taste him.

"Tsar..." he gasped, his eyes full of awe, "...we can't, I can't-"

"Shhh," she nuzzled him gently, silencing the lion, brining a dazed look to his face. "I say we can." Taking a firm grip of the covers, Tsarmina hauled the heavy sheets off of them both, dumping them in a heap on the edge of the bed. She sat up, and fixed her eager eyes on her brother's stiff erection.

He was bigger than she'd expected, but not as big as Ninsen. The leapord's was still the longest she'd taken into her mouth, though the captain of the guard came close. A realisation brought a shiver of heat through her. She'd finally be able to let Ninsen have her once she was pregnant with her brother's cubs; once the risk of the leopard laying her with his own was gone. Her loins burned with shameless anticipation at the thought.

Darting forwards, she wrapped her experienced tongue around her brother and closed her muzzle around his shaft with a low purr.

Denmien cried out, his hips bucking upwards, his shaking paws taking a tentative hold of her head.

Knowing how close he was, Tsarmina just let him feel the warmth and softness of her mouth around him before letting him go. She turned to look at him, smiling coyly. "Is that nice?"

He stared open-mouthed at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a glazed look in his eyes.

"Aww, poor brother..." She crooned, sliding her athletic figure into a sitting position, straddling his waist. "It is alright; you have no shame here, relax and let me to show you what you have been missing for all of this time."

Tsarmina licked her fangs, and sidled forwards to bring herself up against his twitching, leaking erection. You make this so easy, she thought. So exquisitely easy, dear brother.

He made no move to prevent her. His paws gripped bedsheets, his wide, staring eyes transfixed by his sister's magnificent figure, muscular and powerful, yet feminine and beautiful.

She looked into her brother's eyes, and watched them brighten as she lowered herself down. A soft moan escaped her, one she let him hear, and a deep purr ticked into her throat.

Denmien winced and drew a gasp of air, his eyes meeting his sister's with a look of fear as well as awe.

Tsarmina smiled, coy and seductive, and settled her hips around his malehood, holding him still inside her. She could smell his desperation, and it was just the tool she needed to sink her claws into him once and for all.

His hips tried to move beneath her, but she pinned him firmly, wrapping her legs beneath him to hold him still. He whimpered pathetically, trying to buck at her, too afraid to move his paws from where they gripped his sheets.

She leaned forwards, arching her back, her feline agility brining her nose to an inch of his own. She licked his muzzle, and whispered. "Do you want me?"

He could only stare in his fear, his bottom lip quaking in the darkness of the room, but the smallest hint of a nod eventually came.

Tsarmina unwrapped her legs from him, and raised herself off of his malehood, making him groan. She lay down beside him; her legs and her feet posed seductively, and just watched him like the predator she was.

Denmien couldn't move fast enough to give her what she wanted. The lion scrambled onto all fours, his now glistening malehood eager to give his sister the heir to the throne. His face glazed into awe as he looked at her, laid out before him, and his paws moved to touch her legs.

Hiding her amusement, Tsarmina merely watched and let him do as he wished, safe in the knowledge that he was now thoroughly her own possession.

His padded paws brushed through her fur, feeling her calves and down to her ankles. He stroked her feet, his erection twitching, and finally clambered forwards over her.

She lay herself open for him, and embraced him lovingly against her, stroking his mane and licking his face as he moved into her and discovered new ecstasies. Her claws sunk into his back, and her powerful legs wrapped him in an iron grip, so that when his shuddering climax overcame him he was her captive, her muscles squeezing him, milking her brother for all he could give.