FSE

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My hands tremble at the mere thought of writing down the last two weeks of my life onto these pages. Everything went to hell, and I have only Lady Luck to thank for being alive. I haven't felt this much pain in my existence... Not even the night when I had started to fight, when I had sworn to find the only person I had ever trusted. And now all I can think of is giving up.

In these times of darkness I can only find comfort in my companion, who never left my side, even when I turned out to be the worst of a person to him. I am finally beginning to truly trust him, accepting my feelings toward him and - dare I say it - thinking of him as my soul mate. I may as well start writing now. Perhaps if I make sense of what had ensued after the ball, I can find it in me to go on.

Sunday, 25th April 830 / Cyrila Capital

"Wow, it looks tailored to fit." The wolf exclaimed enthusiastically, resting his elbows on a dining table and dreamily staring at me.

I smiled back at him. "And you were worried that it would look bad."

Amand lightly laughed, his cheeks lifting up and gaining mass in a sincere, fond smile. "I just didn't think that that pain of a bear would pick a good size, careless as he is with everything else."

We had persuaded Villion to open the dining room's curtains, letting in some natural light which presented the room in an all new mood. I gazed at the city behind the arched windows, letting my mind drift for a short moment. In the sun of the high noon the city was as blinding as snow covered mountain fields of the southern kingdoms; I blinked, returned back in front of the wizard's mirror and to my companion.

"I still can't believe he left the gem of magical shielding carelessly lying around." I remarked, playing with the folds of the emerald green dress.

The wolf stood up and walked behind me, dragging his hands across my belly in a gentle hug. I felt his relaxed breathing on the scar of my left ear, then with a soothing tone of his grainy voice, he said, "It was not just lying around. Remember how I had to organize the library? Got a little carried away and flipped through several books, one describing magical artefacts. I got really interested when I saw a familiar looking green gem. I was sure I've seen the bear experimenting with a gem like that several times. Found it in one of his locked drawers."

"Oh, you rascal! My little lone wolf and such a thief?" I turned around, kissing him on his dry nose passionately.

"It helped, didn't it? Though once were done here, I'm returning it. I'm not a thief, as you seem to think."

Looking up into his brown wolf eyes, I realized how much fond of him I grew. Once I sunk my fingers into his densely black facial fur, he half-closed his eyes and happily sighed, one of his ears fluttering lively. But the other - the one I had shot him in - only limply twitched. Despite what I normally let be known of myself, I felt strong guilt for what I had done. It was his choice to travel with me, I gave him plenty of warnings that he wouldn't be leaving unscathed from that, but those were only empty excuses and false justifications. I had no right to hurt him.

"Amand? I have to say something... I-"

His eyes froze, his mouth corners lowered into a worried expression, and what hurt me the most, was the knowledge that every time I wanted to talk about something serious, he only expected another painful blow from me. "I'm listening Marcella. What is it?"

I took a deep breath before speaking up again. "I feel sorry for what I did. I overreacted and hurt the one person that tried to get close to me and... I'm sorry. I just, I feel terrible for it."

The wolf tightly hugged me, resting my head on his shoulder and delicately caressed my back. "We do horrible things when we feel pushed back against a wall. Don't blame yourself too much, I've done bad things in anger too."

"I almost killed you Amand. And for nothing."

"All is forgiven, love. Just try not to mangle my other ear as well, okay?"

In the heat of the moment I chuckled at his remark, feeling a lot better. "Thanks."

He seated me on a chair and picked up a teapot, filling a mug with a stream of delicious smelling tea. Softly pressing it to my lips he urged me to sip. "I know you prefer harder drinks, but have a taste. I made it myself, and it will ease the stress."

The liquid ran through my lips and teeth, filling my mouth. I remember the taste clearly, a mix of herbs that filled me with a fuzzy feeling of peaceful calmness. I finished it, and as if just to break our personal moment, the latch of the door clicked and Villion walked in. From under his thick robes emerged a bear hand, in its clutching fingers a golden mask. It was modelled just to fit a vulpine muzzle, with the jaw omitted and two small golden fangs protruding where mine would normally be - if I dragged my lip up.

He walked next to me, giving me a slightly scornful gaze, and then opened his mouth to let himself be heard. "Good, the dress fits. I just hope you made no stains on it in my absence."

Amand deeply growled, his usual reaction to the master wizard.

"Shush, tribal wolf. So, lady courtesan, have you prepared yourself fully? In four hours the ball begins, and I wouldn't want to hear you forgot to polish your claws, or groom your tail." Him ending with a slight smirk, I couldn't help but chuckle at the display.

"Ah, the king's jester has returned." I smiled mischievously. "Anyway, still got some loose ends to tie. But that won't be long."

Laying the mask on the table, the bear walked halfway back to the door, when he looked over his shoulder and made a swift gesture with his hand. The chair my wolf companion had cushioned his soft behind on turned in place - slowly at first, and then yanked violently from under him. Falling flat on his butt the wolf shrieked in surprise, flailing his limbs around in an attempt to gain balance. I failed to stifle a laugh, while Villion slipped out of the room in the meantime.

The wolf cursed aloud, "That son of a bitch!"

"Sorry for laughing. You all right?"

Springing to his feet, he righted the chair and sat back in it. "Yeah. I can't wait to get back to the forests. Being here is really draining me."

I brushed my tail by the wolf and squeezed his shoulder, comforting him. "I know what you mean. Don't worry, before long we will be chasing each other through nature's wonders."

"Not the only wonder I'm looking forward to..." Amand growled sensually.

I walked back in front of the mirror, placing the mask on my face and latching it in place with a leather string that was attached to it. The inside of it was cushioned with puffy cloth, preventing the most severe signs of discomfort when wearing it for prolonged time. I decided to do a last inspection of myself, before taking a short nap in preparation for the big event. Preparation started with my dark-brown hair, which was tied at the back of my head, bouffant and combed in a manner that produced handfuls of exquisite, long curls. At the front of my face, two strands were running by the sides of my cheeks, curling and ending at jawline. As much as I liked the style, I was sure Fiona - the lovely cat lady from the brothel in Krelholm - would be capable of making a hair style of more grandiose qualities.

The dress was really the pinnacle of my noble lady attire. The rich emerald green silk wasn't the best choice for my natural fur colour, yet seeing it tightly hugging my upper torso and reflecting the sharp glow of the outside sun, I wouldn't have wanted to wear anything else for the occasion. It ended just above my breasts, and as it was sleeveless, it was mainly held in place by a seamlessly sewn-in corset which pushed my bosom provocatively higher. Playing with the decorative folds of the neckline, I learned it was designed to be easily pulled down, revealing the contents explicitly to the outside world. A handy feature I just had to try several times in front of the mirror and my wolf companion, whose eyes darted over me in arousal. My arms were covered by long arm gloves, same colour as the dress and ending at wrists with a half transparent lace.

Visually, the largest part of the dress, the skirt, covered my legs and bottom fully. Just like the décolletage, I was able to easily roll it upward, exposing my vixen pussy to anyone I deemed wise to. It wouldn't be me if I had any underwear, and the thought of bending over and simply pulling the mass of cloth up to enlighten the duke Schimon with my naughty bits went along nicely with the rest of my plan. My thighs and legs were clothed in half-transparent stockings, with my poor vixen feet crammed in shoes with heels. Nice and classy as they were, heels just weren't my thing and they were the only part of my disguise that irritated me. To fully finish the attire, I decorated my neck with a jewelled choker and tied a small ribbon to the base of my tail. Thanks to the large skirt, I had to hold my foxy brush high and slightly curved behind my back - exactly like noble morph ladies do - which had made it a decoration on its own.

Finished with the inspection I uttered to myself, "If this won't win his heart, then I don't know what will," I felt nausea taking over me, knowing I had to leave my diary and the rest of my possessions with Amand. But what other choice was there? I certainly trusted him more than that bastard of a wizard, Villion. "I trust you with this Amand. Take good care of my things, especially the diary. And if I hear you turned tail and escaped with my gold-"

"You won't. I will keep your belongings safe, and you have my word I won't peek into your diary." He stood up, pressing his body tight against me, running the tip of his muzzle across the golden mask and my chin. Then, no more than whispering, he asked. "Marcella, please, don't do anything that would put you in danger. This isn't worth risking your life for."

His behaviour baffled me the moment. "What has gotten into you? I'm just adding one more supporter to Mana's cause, I'm not going into a war."

He looked deeply into my eyes, undeniable worry hidden in his dark-brown orbs. "I know it is your dream to make some kind of difference, to be valued for your skills as a mercenary, but... Don't let your dreams destroy you."

Growing annoyed, I overlooked the truth in his words. "What am I supposed to do then? Just give up and let everything be? This is what I strived for so long, and no one ever got anywhere by playing it safe."

"I'm not trying to discourage you. I'm with you no matter what, just return safely. I love you."

I kissed him on his lips as I answered, feeling his familiar wolf taste invading my taste buds. "I will return to you, don't worry."

A desire coming true

I rode a luxurious coach to the lower portions of the royal castle, my mind filled with high expectations, as well as an unhealthy dose of self-doubt and nervousness. Having nothing to do but to wait, I played with my ring, rolling it in my finger pads and slowly repeating my fake identity and the whole plan to myself. My name was Natalia Tate, daughter of a wealthy nobleman from Kordonia. The type of spoiled brat that was above all bored and burning through daddy's extensive coin reserves, attending social gatherings and meeting new people. The fake characterization was only minimally elaborated; playing a simple hussie didn't require much concentration, which I would need for other things. And once I would find my prey, duke Schimon, I would be myself and there was no chance he could resist. The identity was really only to fool the guards and ball personnel, as it was too risky to use my real name.

The coach gently slowed to a halt; I placed the ring back on my ring finger and waited for the driver to open the door for me. Stepping out into the early evening the royal castle was before me, a huge structure of several levels and built over large enough area that almost all of Krelholm could be hidden inside. I was only at the foot, the lowest level of it all, and yet it was the most magnificent building I had seen in a while. To get to the ball room I had to traverse up a handful of steps of a large stairwell, then get past the guards who were overseeing the visitors. I took a swift look around - only a handful of nobles were outside, and even those were rushing to get to the ball. Behind the front windows, which were as high as the entry hall itself, more nobles than I could count were chatting and enjoying themselves under the light of magical chandeliers, their light brighter than what little illumination the setting sun offered.

Approaching the plate-armour wearing guards I prepared my forged invite, acting indifferent and distant. The guard, a tiger morph, inspected the document with the help of a magnifying glass and searched for my name in a long list. He looked like a cute lad, but my desire to flirt had to wait.

After a short moment he invited me in. "Enjoy the ball, lady Natalia."

I walked through the open door and into the social gathering. The entry hall was simply breathtaking, my shoes tapped on marble tiles as I slowly walked onward, here and there muffled by stripes of dark green carpet which were laid over the ground. Several columns made from polished stone were supporting the balcony of the upper level, where some guests were resting on the stone railing and looking down onto the crowd. But that was nothing compared to the ball room itself, which was so large I couldn't hope to see the other end of it. The wall opposite the entryway was fully made of glass, granting the visitors a beautiful view on the castle garden and the adjacent rich quarter of the city. My imagination was flowing on the tunes of the slow dance music, when a man approached me.

"May I have this dance?" A casual question of a middle aged human, who was, just like me, wearing a golden mask and enjoying the ball. For the while I pretended I was just another visitor looking for a dance, and agreed.

Thanks to the two weeks of relentless training, I fell right into the rhythm of the song, enjoying the orchestrated sequence of steps and gestures. The man's hand was firmly holding me by my waist, influencing my course and gently leading me whenever I did a misstep. Once the song had come to its end, I excused myself, despite wanting to live in the fantasy a little longer.

I couldn't count on the duke finding me on his own; I moved some distance away from the dancing crowd and commenced the hunt. His smell was deeply etched into my foxy nose thanks to the handkerchief Villion had provided, and I softly sniffed at the air, dragging it through my nostrils. I felt the combined scent of the whole ball room, but Schimon's natural fragrance was not among it - I frowned under the mask. Slowly walking along one of the walls to find a different spot, I tried to search for him again. I sniffed two times, letting the heavy air full of scents roll into my nose. Nonetheless, the result the same - nothing.

A whole hour passed, in which I walked not only the ball room and the main hall, but also the entirety of the upper level, very quickly loosing my patience. After all, I hadn't come all the way to fail so stupidly, by not even finding the man I was supposed to. Leaning on the side of the balcony I let my eyes sink down to the couples dancing atop the marble floor, thinking who I could pry info on Schimon's whereabouts from. As I was descending the stairs leading back to the entry hall - determined to carry out the new plan - my nose twitched and I whiffed in. It was him! Before I could lose the scent I took a look around, searching for the origin of the smell. In a short while I found a morph who fitted the vague description I had been given.

The man was a ferret, roughly 190 centimetres tall and moving with the trained grace of a high noble. His well kept, dark grey hair was neck-long, softly swaying about his refined facial features and short round muzzle, his tail pointy and curled upward behind his back, and his facial fur combination of dark-grey and white. He was aiming for the ball room, searching for something in his creamy white suit decorated with golden details. Squeezing through the thick of the crowd I went after his distinct scent, sure I had found my prey and happy that nothing was lost yet. Inside he was interrupted by one of the castle's attendants; I quickly hid next to a small group of visitors and eavesdropped on the conversation.

"...she is waiting on you, please stop by after the ball."

The ferret responded, forcing the words out of his mouth as if he didn't want to speak at all, "I think I'll go visit her right away. I'm not in the mood for the ball at all."

The attendant, a cat morph, tried to change the ferret's mind. "Stay at least for a while, duke. It would be a shame if we lost the best dancer this ball ever had. Maybe Lady Luck will be on your side this time."

"Thanks Willfred, but I'm really not feeling well. I'll seek you out once I'm done speaking to her. An old friend like you deserves my time." He lifted his golden mask and stroked the fur on his forehead.

"I'll be on my usual post. Thanks, and enjoy the conversation." The cat-morph departed, nonchalantly waving to the duke.

"...yeah. Sure," The duke uttered.

Judging by the conversation it was clear the two men knew each other for some time, in spite of their distant social statuses. I also knew I had to act fast, if I was to get close to my target and succeed. I walked slowly by the duke, brushing against his lean body with my tail and hand. Making one slow step I followed with another, then turned around and gazed into his eyes. At first I thought he would leave, as his stare darted to the side and his hands flexed and tensed.

Deciding to try something else before asking for a dance myself, I tilted my head to the side and smiled fondly. He took notice immediately, returning the smile and closed the distance between us.

"I don't remember seeing you here before, lady," he said, gently stroking his chin.

I playfully exposed my fangs. "That is why you don't want to dance with me?"

"I'm sorry?" He blinked his blue eyes in confusion. "Oh, excuse me. May I please then?" The golden mask hid his expression, but I knew I had him where I wanted.

"My pleasure."

He grasped my hand and slid the other onto my waist, leading me further into the ballroom and amid the other dancers. I felt a bit strange giving him control over me, but once he started dancing, I relaxed myself and followed his lead.

"May I ask for your name?" He asked.

At the question I missed a step, almost kicking him in the foot. "Why so eager all of a sudden?"

Lifting my hand above my head he spun me in a pirouette; to my own pleasant surprise, I kept on my heels without as much as a hint of trouble. "I hope I have not offended you by asking?" he said.

"Not in the slightest, I just prefer when the partner introduces himself first." I fell into the rhythm of the music at that point, and compared to my first dancing partner, the duke was flying across the floor. Even I could say he was an incredible dancer.

"Schimon Merengard, the Duke of Melessen at your service." Knowing officially I had the right man lifted a great burden off me; ever since I had met Amand, I simply stopped trusting my nose.

I slightly stroked Schimon's paw and pressed tightly against him, feeling his body pressing against mine. It gave him something else to think about other than the dancing or his bad mood. Then I introduced myself. "Nice to meet you. I am Natalia."

For the rest of the dance we kept silent. I teased him whenever an opening arose, brushing his thighs, throwing suggestive looks, and when I pressed my nose on his own after another successful pirouette, I heard the imaginary trap clicking in place. The music faded and we applauded the musicians. Turning myself back to him I realized Schimon's stare was fixated on me, with his breathing so masked I couldn't hear it at all.

"You are truly an incredible dancer Schimon. Wish I had your skill." I complimented him, hoping it would have the desired effect.

"I sincerely thank you for the dance. You have great, if unrefined, talent. If you are interested, I could teach you the true magic of dancing." He delivered the proposition in such a low growl my rebellious fox tail broke character and started swishing about happily.

"Oh absolutely!"

"When do you want to start? My schedule is free while I'm still in Cyrila."

I licked my lips carnally. "How about right now?"

Grabbing his I paw I pulled him after me, switching roles of the dance as I usurped control.

"Know a place where we could be alone?" I softly murmured.

The duke was treading after me, very confused judging by his slightly trembling voice. "The rooms upstairs are free. Why?"

"Just wait and see."

Once on the balcony Schimon unlocked one of the doors leading into a gloomy corridor; slipping inside unnoticed we hid ourselves from the ever critical public eye. Opening the closest door revealed a spacious bedroom hidden under the cover of darkness; I snapped my fingers and a chandelier came to life, blinding us with a sudden intrusion of light. Swaying my hips I walked into the opulent chamber, which despite its prevalent green colour of the carpet and furniture cushions emanated a warm and inviting atmosphere. The walls were white and with a simple pattern giving them a darker tone, while two curtains of green colour were giving us some much needed privacy, hanging from a pair of decorated pelmets. Compared to the never-ending bustle of the ball room it was pleasantly quiet, and we could finally lower our voices.

"A magician then?" He asked, closing the door behind us.

Revealing my face from under the golden mask I smirked mischievously. "No, only a little trick I learned."

As he did the same I realized how unnaturally smooth his facial features really were, his nose brown but catching pink tint on edges, and his fur without the slightest of flaws. "What a mystery you are. Where were you from again?" he inquired.

My actual birthplace almost slipped from my lips. "The Kingdom of Kordonia."

He opened his arms, with the palms of his hands pointing in my direction. "Anything more specific?"

"I believe a lady should be allowed a certain aura of mystique."

Accepting defeat, the duke closed his hands together. "Well then. Ready for your first lesson, Natalia?"

Nodding, I grabbed his hands and placed them on my waist, letting them slide all the way down to my butt. As with most males I seduce, the duke's first reaction was disbelief; his whole body froze along with his lips parting, him letting out a small moan. Out of pure instinct I pressed my muzzle on his, extending my tongue to explore his small ferret fangs. Deeper inside I found his tongue and softly massaged it, both his taste and smell overwhelming my receptors. I kept on deeply kissing him, feeling his hands sinking into the fabric of my dress when he groped my bottom tightly.

I only broke the kiss to voice my intentions, "I had something else in mind."

"Am I dreaming?" He joked, running his eyes up and down my vixen face. Hoping to reassure him that everything was real, I pulled down the neckline of my green ball dress. My nipples tingled as they met the outside air - and, more importantly, the duke's aroused stare. I loved how much he admired my body and I grabbed his hands once more, placing them on the sensitive white fur of my hand-filling breasts. As if on cue he squeezed and pulled, sending waves of pleasure through my flesh, as well as slutty moans out of my throat.

His nostrils flared under the tides of warm breath he was exhaling, his scent washing over me in irregular tides. Pressing my pubic mound close against the dukes crotch I was met by his growing erection. It poked me from under his robes, and feeling the unyielding pillar of flesh growing solely from my presence, my primal desires grew together with him.

"Let this naughty vixen take care of you. Or would you rather dance?"

He grinned ear to ear, "Only if we danced as the gods created us."

I liked the sound of it; starting at his neck I traced my clawed finger all the way down to the enticing bulge of his pants, opened them, and teased the tip of his throbbing cock, provocatively draped under a layer of underwear.

I looked up into his face and purred, "Planning to dance me out of my shoes?" I turned around and pointed at my upper back. "But you will have to unpack me yourself. The corset is awfully tight."

Ditching his jacket first, he squeezed my shoulders and nuzzled the back of my head with his muzzle. Then, with a delicate touch of his fingers, he untied the strings, pulling the silky fabric of my dress down along my soft fur and the itching curves of my vixen waist. I sighed happily when the dress had fully slipped off, landing onto the decorative carpet. Faster than I could turn myself back, Schimon tore his robes from him, throwing them on the luxurious bed carelessly. Only few small pieces of fabric were left on our bodies; I unfastened the duke's neck cloth and threw it on top of the pile, then revealed his groin by pulling down a puffy cloth that the nobility likes to mistake for underwear. Ignoring his irresistible, pre ejaculate covered, fifteen centimetres of pulsing cock, I draped my leg over the side of his waist. Without any vocal request he gently removed the stocking, I switched legs and he rolled the second piece of textile off me, both times starting at my inner thigh and squeezing the pads of my feet once done. Impatiently removing the last piece of my attire - my arm gloves - I was ready to begin.

His body was leanly built, with soft muscles just pronounced enough to be visible under his velvety fur. Presenting my body in all its nudity flushed my face with the arousal of a teenage vixen's first heat, so perverted did it feel having someone new to show myself to.

Schimon grabbed my paw in preparation for the dance, while he waited for me to place my other hand in a correct spot. "Dancing lesson number one, where does the other hand belong?" His muzzle shifted into a cocky grin.

Looking into his glistening eyes I blindly extended my hand, landing it on something sticky and warm. Squeezing his crown in my hand I was rewarded by a fresh streak of warm fluids, as well as a loud gasp of my dance partner. The duke bucked his hips into my closed hand, sliding his cock all the way forward. Feeling his sack on my pinky I gently rolled it in my fingers, while his cocktip burrowed itself into my fur and smeared more liquid need into it.

I giggled and put my hand where it truly belonged - onto his back. He slid his leg across the carpet in the first step of the dance, softly speaking, "Not that I haven't enjoyed that, but I'm truly looking forward to this dance."

What was meant to be a harmonic unison of two adult bodies very quickly turned into a carnal display of arousal and need. The dukes hand on my back found the base of my tail and latched onto it, stroking the fur of it and teasing my buttcheeks, while Schimon himself couldn't keep himself from kissing me on my lips.

"I have only one question to ask. I don't want to ruin to mood, but you are protected by herbs, lady Natalia?" He nervously asked, sliding his warm length in-between my thighs.

"Naturally, duke Schimon." I stroked his back, letting my own hand slide down to his small tail and teasing its base. He smiled wide, more like a predator than a noble and lifted my hand in a preparation for what I thought was a pirouette.

Turning me only half the way around he stopped me with my back exposed to him, and placed both hands on my belly, tensing against me. "Oh, I can't deny myself anymore. Your perfectly sculpted body is that of a goddess, and I have to have you."

With his voice falling silent he withdrew his hands, and I felt the tip of his smooth manhood rubbing along the lips of my quivering pussy. To encourage him I clawed into my own bottom's soft flesh and pulled hard, spreading myself shamelessly open. I arched my back and lifted my tail, growling appreciatively as he softly stroked my waist, then pressured his length against my soaking wet vaginal opening. Meekly at first, then almost forcefully and finally, roughly groaning, he drove his girth halfway into my soft depths with the third buck of his hips.

The intrusion left me panting and moaning. Lost in the sweet numbness of sex I rocked my hips back and forth, swallowing increasing lengths of his veiny prick with my promiscuous vixen flower. A wave of shiver inducing arousal washed over me when my mate for the night loudly moaned next to my ear, gaining speed in his thrusts. His ever busy hands kept shifting from spot to spot, for one moment holding and keeping me in place by my waist, the other tugging gently by my tail and most of the time deeply latched onto my breasts. The sensitive folds of my roughly pounded cunt trembled in lust, reminding me how much I loved being explored by aroused males, who wanted nothing else but to fill me with their seed. I meekly moaned again, almost toppling over from the fantasies playing in my head.

"I doubt the kings courtesans are even half as sweet as you." he forced the compliment in my ear, panting and gasping, slapping his waist into my bottom at full speed.

"Have you just called me a courtesan?" I joked, when he missed his thrust completely and we both fell on our knees onto the dark green carpet. I started laughing first, showing the light-hearted nature of the act and soon he joined me.

"I didn't imply anything by it, only your dazzling beauty."

I stood up, leaving a damp spot of our combined fluids on the carpet. "Such implications only turn me on." Laying back-first onto the bed I spread my legs, my tail limply hanging from the edge of the bed and rolling along the carpet. With my finger I played with my fully exposed nether lips, calling my lover to take me in a straightforward display of need.

Schimon faltered only for a second; before I knew it, he was aligning his pecker with my stretched pussy, ready to take me again. "You like being called a slut then?"

I grinned, and gave a sharp reply, "Says the one whoring himself with a complete stranger."

The duke chuckled, sliding the edge of his crown inside me and stopping only once I felt his balls on the fur of my butt. "If I have to be a slut to enjoy you, then so be it," he retorted, withdrawing from my love canal.

I clamped down in his absence, only to be stretched back to his size in a rude penetration of my folds. His vigorous rutting bounced me along the sheets of the clearly expensive bed; I laid my arms behind my head and enjoyed the ride, giving myself fully to the man. His rigid instrument rubbed my depths, Schimon relentlessly pounding at me, lost in lust, and I, barking meekly in response, feeling the pressure in my perverse flower growing. The swelling of his crown marked his end, with a drawn out moan he hilted in my abused orifice and tightly wrapped his fingers around my ankles.

Mind numbing warmth filled me in short, forceful streaks, his virile cum seeping into my womb and trembling walls. A muffled scream clawed out of the dukes throat, he winced and a last stream of his seed delighted my hungry snatch. He pulled out, slowly and deliciously, me feeling every curve of his instrument as he brushed by all my inner ridges on his way out.

"Did you cum, lady?" He asked, a serious tone of voice that snapped me out of my happy place, and truly, orgasm I did not.

I ignored the desperate look in his eyes and rising up some, snatched his paw and rubbed my clitoris with his trembling finger. Roughly handling my own sensitive bud I quickly reached my peak, all my muscles tensing in a display of tantalizing finish. Moaning and gasping, the release robbed me of my self-control and I gushed; a small stream coated the dukes belly and groin, while the rest of my femcum dripped down my butt, mixing with Schimon's ejaculate and staining my poor tail before finishing its journey on the carpet.

"Now you have," I said.

His cheeks lifted in a smile as he sucked on his own finger, getting a good sample of my taste. "Even your taste is a godsend."

Spreading my vixenhood agape, I teased, "You can have more of it, if you want." He quite hesitantly approached me, but before the duke could press his tongue on my vulva, I thought of something better to do. "Lay on the bed next to me."

He gently landed on the twisted sheets, huffing and puffing in the afterglow of our coital bonding. "Perhaps some gentle cuddling would do?"

"That is a bit boring, compared to what I want to do." I rolled on top of him, deeply kissing the duke before I turned around, presenting him with my conquered pussy. A small drop of ejaculate was slowly rolling down my labia, tickling my most sensitive of spots when he stopped it in its track by greedily lapping at my intricate curves. His fur enveloped my erected nipples, which I dragged across his belly as I bobbed my head up and down, softly sucking his deflating member in my insatiable muzzle. My tongue tingled under the taste of my own vixen nectar, soon replaced by a salty intrusion of what little cum I deliberately sucked from his urethra. Our muffled moans were a music to compliment our deviant cleaning process.

Once every strand of fur of our pubic area was fully clean and sparkling, we helped each other to our feet. Pulling his pants back in place Schimon dreamily asked, "I'd really like to dance with you again, Natalia. I hope we can arrange further lessons."

I was searching for one of my stockings under the bed, ass high in the air and tail wagging. "I'm travelling back to Kordonia tomorrow. But that can be postponed."

Schimon was already waiting with my dress above me, with his help the green silk enveloped me and he laced the corset. Speaking enthusiastically, he had the happiest tone of voice yet. "You made me the luckiest man in the whole of this kingdom. Wait until you see Melessen, you'll love it there!"

"Lucky you indeed are." It should have irked me how smoothly everything went along, but drunk of both the success and the wonders of sex, my thoughts were clouded.

Placing the golden masks on our muzzles we walked out of the room. I snapped my fingers and the chandelier blinked before sending the bedroom back into a mist of darkness. Schimon kissed me for the last time, and squeezing my paw fondly, he sighed, "I completely forgot. I have to talk to Lilith before we leave. Will you wait for me in the ballroom?"

"No need, I'll come with you. I'm so tired that another dance would be the end of me."

Schimon chuckled. "If every dance of yours is like the one we just had, then no wonder."

Playfully growling I slapped his hand. "Now that is rude."

"It was only a friendly tease, lady."

We walked into a completely different portion of the castle, and took quite a while to do it as well. I used to the time to get to know the duke better, and of course, to advance my agenda. The long hallways were lined with expensive furniture and intricate decorations; walls covered in white paint, like the city itself, and in the more luxurious wings decorated by seamless tiles of marble. High and mighty, by all appearances, but in the end as decadent as any brothel I had the 'honour' of working at. The sun had long ago crossed the horizon, covering everything in an eerie tone of blue light, pierced only by weak yellow shine of what magical light was on.

"I always liked this kingdom. In some of the others a vixen like myself can't even walk the streets safely."

"It's quite terrible. I try to rule my duchy as fairly as possible, even if that brings a lot of trouble into the process" He paused, glancing in my eyes. "What about your home town?"

Luckily, I knew enough about Kordonia to reply truthfully. "The only place I know where morphs have the upper hand. Humans keep away, really."

"Still a problem, in my eyes. I'd wish for at least some equality."

"Perhaps you could help?" I was preparing him slowly, one fraction at a time.

Exhaling harshly, he responded, "Unlike most of the nobles I don't groom my tail all day long. Keeping the city running takes most of my time, and what little energy I have left I concentrate on fixing this Kingdom's issues."

"Slavery?"

"Yes. I see we think alike." His round ferret ears perked up.

"Perhaps."

Before we could go deeper into our conversation, a harsh, female voice scraped our ears, echoing in the corridor. "Where in the hell have you been? Thanks for wasting my time!" Some distance down the hallway, next to an open door from which a sharp ray of light emanated was standing a lone silhouette.

"Yes, I'm coming." Schimon shouted in an annoyed tone.

I leaned closed to him and whispered a question, "Who is that?"

"Lilith. Captain of the royal guard and a headache of a wolf." The duke whispered back.

Stopping next to the open door I took a quick glance at her. She was a bit higher than me, with a wildly swishing wolf tail and big, green eyes that stared piercingly. What little I could make of her facial features spoke of her older age and rough exterior - and, most likely, years of experience. The dark grey fur of her body was peeking from under a ball dress of her own, but more resembling a uniform than something meant for a social gathering. Her hair was raven black, neck long, and in the low light darker than the worst of moonless nights. It didn't occur to me at the time why she felt so oddly familiar, or why my stomach tied itself in a knot when she gazed at me, her expression twisted in anger and mistrust.

"On top of that you brought some ball wench with you? You're dancing on very thin ice here, Schimon."

I clenched my teeth, keeping the barrage of offensive slurs locked inside me.

"Insult me if you have to, but leave her out of this." The duke groaned, his tail twitching in place. He then turned to me, speaking calmly, "It is only going to take a little while, Natalia. Relax a bit, and then I'm all yours."

He walked through the door, Lilith still scraping layers of confidence off me with the relentless stare of her wolf eyes. "Natalia? I know everyone who even licked close to the castle, and I never heard of your family, whatever that is."

"I'm Natalia Tate, daughter of Roland, a wealthy noble from Kordonia. If that's what you're asking."

"Not a very noble sounding name," she hissed.

"As noble as it gets in Kordonia."

"Really?" If contempt could be harnessed, I'd had a full bottle of it from that one word alone.

I sighed in relief once the door closed shut behind her, really hoping she had closed her tail in. I slowly trudged next to a small bench tucked to one of the hallway's walls, sat onto the cushioned surface and played with the ring that my father had given me in my hands. I sensed a storm coming.

I can't write anymore, I need to take a break. I seem to feel better, even if the worst is still ahead of me, and I shudder at the thought of having to relive it again. Perhaps I should talk to Amand, I feel it would help if I confessed myself to him. Yet if it is so hard to even write it into the diary, how am I to share the horrors of my life - this or the earlier - with another person?