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2008 Gren Drake Va Mawtne lay stretched out in the tub. Her wings were partially extended, laying over the sides. Gentle scents wafted up from the water; herbs had been mixed in before she had entered to perfume the water, and to soak into her fur to leave her with a gentle scent when she was finished. One of the servants stood beside and slightly behind her, hands lathering the soap through the short fur on her back, between her wings. It was an area hard for her to reach. Her eyes were closed, her head resting on a padded stop as the servant slowly cleaned her back; she had finished the rest of the bath before calling the servant and now had only to relax. And she needed to relax. She had recently learned, or rather, confirmed a particular piece of information. She needed to discuss the matter with her husband and she knew the conversation would not be pleasant. Thus, she wanted to relax as much as possible in advance The servant's fingers left Va Mawtne's back. "I am finished, mistress." Va Mawtne raised her head enough that she could speak. "You may leave early today. I will need privacy with my husband tonight." The servant bowed her head. "Very good mistress. Thank you." There was the tapping of toe-claws against the tiled floor as the servant left the bathing chamber. She remained in the tub for most of half an hour more. She used this time to decide how to pursue the conversation she would be having with her husband. There was one bright point in all this; Re Vataen was doing so much better lately that she didn't need to worry about the stress doing him harm. He trembled less, almost as little as when she had married him, and had no more weakness now than he had then. She wondered what the cause of his regression was. His condition was supposed to be progressive with remission being very rare. She sighed; there was no point putting it off any further. She opened the tub's drain and climbed out as the water flowed through. The air was slightly chilled with a mild breeze blowing into the bathing chamber. The curtain of beads that separated the room from the rest of her home shifted slightly, the air currents blowing through it. Water dripped from her, forming little pools on the rough, tiled floor. Taking a towel from the rack, she carefully dried herself. She took her time, removing as much of the moisture as she could. There was no rush; she wanted to put the conversation off as long as possible, but there was no way to avoid it anymore. Not now that she had evidence. Now finished, she put the towel back on the rack, hanging it loosely so the circulating air could dry it. With a small brush kept here for just this, she started to groom her fur, giving it the smooth, flat appearance that was the current fashion. Then she took the breast-cloth from its hook and put it on, the neck-cord and tail-cord slipping around their respective limbs to hold the simple sheet of material against her body. It was not a garment suitable for going outside, but it was sufficiently modest to wear in her own home, at least as long as she had no guests. With everything she could use to delay the conversation done with, she stepped through the bead curtain and into the common area. From the silence she could tell that the servants had already left, something that was both what she had intended and that was disappointing. No more delay, she decided. As soon as she found her husband, she would get it over with. He was, unfortunately, in the first place she looked. He had pulled one of the thick, hard cushions in the entrance hall into the middle of the hall and was seated upon it. A hefty section of sugar-bread was in one hand and he was tearing bits off with the other, tossing them to the jiruan that sat a few feet away from him, snapping the bits out of the air. "My husband." Her voice was admirably stable, given the circumstances, but some bitterness showed through. He turned to look at her, pausing in tosing the bread. "There is something we must talk about; let us retire to the commons and be done with it." "My wife. What is it that bothers you? Have I given offense?" "I would not discuss it in the entry where the wind might carry our words to other's ears." He nodded. "Very well then." Slipping the remainder of the sugar-bread into one of the pockets of his plain clothing, he stood and followed her back into the common area. This part of their home was mostly open space; it was a large circular area into which most of the other rooms opened. In the center was a raised platform that served as a table and had scattered cushions around it. Va Mawtne settled onto her haunches on one of these cushions near a small black box on the table. Her tail curled tightly around her legs as Re Vataen spawled onto one across from her. "So, what did you want to talk about?" She slid the box across the smooth surface of the table to Re Vataen. "Take a look." He opened the box, pulling out the pictures inside, looking at them one by one before tossing them in a loose pile on the table. Ve Mawtne couldn't see the pictures from where she was, but she knew what they depicted. A couple of months previous she had personally installed security cameras in the entry hall and the grooming room next to it. The photos were extracted from the video footage. They showed Re Vataen engaging in carnal acts with the jiruan, the beast that guarded their home. "Ah," he said as he finished going through the stack. "Is that all you have to say? Ah?" He shrugged. "There doesn't seem to be much else to say." "Perhaps you could explain why?" "Why not?" "If the church found out the best you could hope for would be exile." "It would be nice to see Re Kamae again." "Pardon?" Va Mawtne blinked. "Who?" "My cousin. He was exiled a few decades back. It was the unnatural crimes bit the church pinned on him. He has a rather successful printing business in Pasha Za Fojun Fae, I hear." "Runs in the family, then?" "My wife, two people do not make a run; besides he is a third cousin." Most of the pictures were on the table, but he still held a few in his hand, holding them as though they were playing cards. "If you needed to satisfy your lusts, why didn't you ask me? I am your wife." "The jiruan is far more flexible than you are, my wife. And besides, it has something you don't." "And what is that, my husband?" "A penis." "You-" Va Mawtne stuttered; she was barely able to force the words out of her mouth. "You have unnatural urges." "Don't we all?" Even as Va Mawtne was being overwhelmed by emotion, Re Vataen appeared calm and relaxed, infuriating her all the more. "What do you mean?" He tossed the photos he still held on the table so that they slid across the surface to her. A creeping horror came over her when she saw them. They were not her pictures; the angle was different. At some point he had taken pictures of her when she'd allowed the jiruan to take her. Va Mawtne did not raise her eyes from the pictures when she spoke. "What choice did I have? You are not the only one with needs." "You seemed to enjoy it just fine." She ignored his words. "You knew? And you let me continue to defile myself?" "Really, you didn't seem to mind." "Gah!" The building emotional tide within her finally broke, leaving her inarticulate. Re Vataen stood and disappeared into the entry hall. She tried to call out to him, but her throat was still so tight she couldn't speak. He returned a moment later with a video casette in his hands. "Shall we retire to the office, my wife?" He gestured with the cassette towards their shared office. She had arranged for a television and VCR to be installed there when she'd installed the hidden camera in the entry hall. Va Mawtne followed her husband into the office, her muscles so tense her toe-claws tore little pits in the flooring. "Take a seat," he told her once she'd joined him, gesturing towards the thick cushion she'd brought in for when she was reviewing the camera footage. She settled onto it, her claws digging into the fabric. It resisted her efforts, not even providing her the release of shredding it. Re Vataen pushed the tape into the VCR and turned the television on. It flickered for a moment before the picture stabilized, showing the 'film'. The scene was the small hidden room Va Mawtne used to groom the jiruan. The angle was different then that of the camera she had installed; this camera had clearly been installed by Re Vataen, an impressive feat for someone who had trouble crossing the room a few months previous. Even before she saw herself and the animal enter the room, she knew what she was going to see. She watched as the Va Mawtne on the screen slowly stripped, tucking her clothing under a protective cover on the shelf. Then her film-self moved into the center of the room and bent over, exposing herself to the animal. She could feel herself start to become moist as she watched herself allow the beast its pleasure. Had she become so accustomed to such bestial acts that they had become erotic? Perhaps she didn't dread the act, but rather her response to it. She jumped slightly when she felt fingers against her neck. She was quick to release they were her husband's. The fingers stroked through her fur as they undid the straps holding her breast-cloth and pulled it away from her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see it land on the low desk across the room. Then his hands were on her again, stroking her neck, rubbing the base of her horns. She purred from the attention, starting to turn towards him. He grabbed one of her horns, holding it (and her head) firmly in place, her eyes on the screen. Slowly, the hand raised her horn, forcing her to rise from the cushion. As she watched herself moaning under the animal's attentions on the screen she felt something at her neck. She reached up, her hands exploring the unfamiliar object, quickly realizing what it was: a collar. More than that, it was a radio collar such as the jiruan wore. She could feel the tiny radio unit attached to it. She gasped as she felt a weight on her back, pressing against the membranes of her wings. At first she thought it was the jiruan. How had it gotten here? The radio collar should have kept it in the entry hall. Then realized it was her husband. His fingers slipped through her short fur, searching across her body as though it were an unfamiliar landscape (which, given how rarely they touched each other, was entirely possible). Quickly, his fingers found what they were looking for, stroking the insides of her thighs. Her already moist sex doubled its lubrication. As Re Vataen's fingers mussed the fur on her thighs, they spread her juices, sullying her fur. Her tail was lifted, gently pushing her torso downwards. She took the cushion she'd been sitting on earlier in her arms, pulling it below her chest to support her as her husband moved her tail out of the way. Then his penis spread her as it plied its way into her. He moved slowly, without the frantic motions the jiruan was demonstrating on the television. One of his hands slipped in between her thighs, first brushing against the edge of her sex were his flesh met hers, then moving forward, softly rubbing the side of her clit. His hips met hers; she was mounted by a man of her own species for the first time in decades. He pulled back quickly, forcing a gasp from her. Again, he thrust in with agonizing slowness, his fingers pressing harder against her clit. His third thrust was faster, and the fourth yet faster. His fingers keep up with his hips as he slowly increased his tempo. It was like the video on the screen, an unholy union of person and animal, only now she was both, and she was being taken by her husband. She was amazed at how aroused she felt, how much the desire to be filled with him, to be beneath him, overwhelmed her. She was naked, save for a collar, and very much at the mercy of her husband. And she was so very aroused. Her arms tightened around the cushion, crushing it against her chest; She raised her hips to encourage Re Vataen's ever-so-slow thrusting. She felt like an animal now. The role her husband had given her was overtaking her, becoming, in many ways, more real than reality. Her secretions were mixed with his leaking from their union, running through her fur, staining the cushion. She gasped for breath and her heart pounded against her ribcage; her eyes were closed, blocking out the physical world, replacing it with the fantasy Re Vataen had created with his collar. The sensations were building up; a virtual explosion of desire and bliss waited within her for a key moment. "Don't stop." The words were barely audible and were slurred. The collar was pressing into her neck, her husband thrusting rapidly now, more bestially. She pressed back against him, forcing his penis further into her. A moan escaped her lips; the feel of Re Vataen on top of her, of his member filling her, faded for a moment as the built up pleasure was released, overwhelming her with bliss for a moment. The world returned slowly. She felt more relaxed, more calm than she had in years. Re Vataen was still on her, still penetrating her, but no longer thrusting. She turned her head to look at him. His body looked limp and a seed of worry began to grow within her. "My husband?" she said, her voice soft. Not only did he not answer, he didn't even move. "My husband?" This time she did not speak softly; her voice was firm with just a touch of her worry audible. Worry that was quickly growing, devouring the bliss left by her orgasm. "Re Vataen." Her words were insistant now, demanding. He had yet to move. When he still didn't respond, she stood, lifting his weight with her own. Slowly and carefully, she pulled herself out from under him. His body slid over her, and his penis out of her. Both his fur and hers were mussed as they rubbed together, becoming disarrayed. He slipped to the floor were he laid limply. A thin cord of semen hung strung out between his penis and her sex; this she severed with a quick motion of her tail, leaving a sticky trail across it. She knelt next to him. When she found he still had a pulse some of her worry departed. He had done this the day they'd been married; at least this time no one was watching. Leaving him for the moment, she stopped the VCR and pulled the tape out, setting it to the side. Then she turned everything off and fetched her breast-cloth from the desk. She slipped it on, staining the lower part of it with the sticky fluids that still lingered around her sex. Then she went to leave the room; Re Vataen would recover soon enough on his own. She yelped as she felt an electric charge zap her. Then, only a moment later, it zapped her again. The collar. She moved back into the room, then reached up, her fingers exploring its surface, looking for a latch, or a buckle, or anything, but she found nothing. If only there was a mirror, some way she could see it, perhaps than she'd be able to get it off her. Re Vataen was still unconscious. She wouldn't be able to go anywhere until he woke up and got the collar off her. She sighed and settled onto the cushion she had so recently been crushing to her chest. The calm, relaxed feeling was gone entirely now. As she sat, her eyes flitted between Re Vataen, laying awkwardly on the floor, and the doorway she wouldn't be able to pass until he removed the collar. Then they would be having another talk. It was far too dangerous for him to use a real control collar; too many things could go wrong. Especially considering his health. Despite the aggravation that filled her, the tenseness of her body slowly flowed away; knowing that she had re-achieved a physical union with her husband to match the political soothed her. Soon she found herself slipping into sleep. Her last thought before sleep overtook her was the realization she was going to need another bath.

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