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Pretty Killer

Chapter 50

"But did he have to fuck her, though?" Milly complained. She was a maid at Howlester and a fluffy Akita Inu breed, which meant her breasts, belly, sex, and inner thighs were covered in fluffy white fur, while her back, tail, and shoulders were golden-brown. Her short mane was the same golden-brown hue, and fell in a mess across her angry eyes as she knelt before the vixen and sponged her clean.

Jonathan had ordered the vixen brought to his personal chambers, and after tying her wrists above her head to the bedpost, he left her to sit on the floor as he paced back and forth, interrogating her. She told him everything, defiantly and loudly, laughing in his face that the "Children of Yfel" were coming and they were coming soon. She claimed that her name was Mogethis, that she was a priestess of Yfel, and that she would spit on his corpse before the day had ended. In a sudden rage, Jonathan lifted her up . . . and took her against the bedpost. She looked him in the eye as they rocked and was defiantly silent for a long time . . . until he stabbed inside so hard and so deep that she grudgingly began to moan and scream. Her juices were oozing down her thighs by the time he was through, and then he pulled free . . . and squirted on her face before he left.

Marvene had seen the entire thing, as Jonathan had asked her to stand guard as he interrogated the vixen. And though she knew in her heart of hearts that the vixen was the enemy, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the creature. Jonathan had always disgusted her. She remembered how the snobby marquis hit on her when she first arrived at the manor, and when she politely turned him down, he asserted that she was "queer."

It was true. Marvene _did_like females. And only females. But his arrogant assumption - that a female must be "queer" to not want him - always bristled her fur. And it was with cold smiles that she greeted the obnoxious marquis ever after.

But Jonathan didn't seem to get it. He didn't seem to understand that he had been rude. He was so accustomed to getting away with being a dick, so unused to anyone correcting his bad behavior, that he believed he hadn't even offended Marvene - who was in no place to correct him. In fact, he believed Marvene liked him and enjoyed serving him and so he always went to her instead of Estica for everything, calling her pet names, such as his "pretty killer" or else just "killer."

It made Marvene almost regret ever coming to Howlester. She loved serving Duke Charles and was devoted to him, but there were several times a day when she found herself holding back the urge to strangle his obnoxious son. Because the truth was, Jonathan didn't come to Marvene for everything just because he thought they were friends. He came to her for everything because he felt less threatened by her. Estica was tall and strong, beautiful and fiery. She had been born a high lady and was not the sort to hold her tongue should Jonathan step out of line. In fact, Estica was so used to being able to speak her mind, that it took her some time to adjust to having someone like Jonathan talk down to her, and there were many times when Duke Charles had to play referee because Estica and Jonathan had almost come to blows.

Marvene knew she would have left long ago if not for Estica. She stayed on for her. For there were many times when Duke Charles apologized for Jonathan and took her aside and told her that he would release her with enough coin to get by for a year without working. If that was what she wished. But she thought of leaving Estica's side . . . and she just couldn't. She couldn't leave. Sleeping with Estica in the same bed had become like a heartbeat. And she didn't want to give that up.

But with love there was always pain, and Marvene had been burned by Estica's fire enough times to seriously consider leaving Howlester because of her.

"He's such a prat," Milly went on angrily. She dipped the sponge in the nearby bucket and continued dabbing the cum off the vixen's face.

"Be quiet, Milly, eh?" Marvene complained. "Before someone hears you."

Milly snorted. "Let them hear me! Maybe Master Charles will stop coddling the brat, as I done told him to stop for years an' years now. Decent folk don't fuck prisoners and spray shite all over 'em."

Marvene laughed flatly. "Just be glad it wasn't really shite," she muttered and Milly laughed mirthlessly.

"Ha! Might as well be," the maid grumbled under her breath and dipped the sponge again.

Marvene looked off, frowning and anxious and terrified that Duke Charles was going to walk by and hear them. She had already gotten on the duke's bad side. The last thing she needed was for him to walk by and hear. He might think she was badmouthing Jonathan right along with Milly, and it would just put him in a fouler disposition toward her.

Milly was one of the older maids. She had been working at Howlester Manor many years, was there when Duke Richard's mother died, had known Duke Charles since he was in swaddling, and didn't give a damn what her masters thought of her complaining. Finding help wasn't easy for the dukes given the public's disapproval of their relationship, and so maids who had been working at Howlester Manor for more than twenty years were assured no dismissal.

"Got an old bitch like me," Milly grumbled on, "down on my knees scrubbin' some boy's load off some vixen whore --"

Marvene's ears flattened. "Don't call her that!" She glanced at the vixen. The fox sat against the bedpost, paws still bound above her head, her deerskin dress covered in the white blotches of Jonathan's cum. Her long white mane was down and tousled, falling across her pretty slanted eyes. She stared past Milly at Marvene, completely ignoring the sponge that touched her face. Her blue eyes were intense.

Milly laughed derisively. "Why? Because she makes you all buttery in your knickers? What would your precious Estica think? Or do the two of you just fuck about with whoever you please?"

Marvene's lips tightened. "Get out, you munter."

Milly paused with the sponge and just looked at Marvene, proud that she had hit a nerve. She and the old bitch had never gotten along.

Marvene's eyes flashed, though she hadn't turned her head. She stood at the door, looking out at the hall, and she was still dressed in her silver breastplate and jacket, her sword on her hip and a dagger sheathed at the small of her back. Her back tightened angrily as she barked, "You heard me!"

Milly smiled. She dropped the sponge in the bucket with a splash and sauntered out, proud and straight-backed, her wrinkled paws clasped before her apron. On her way out, she said with a smirk, "Fine. Bathe her yourself then. I know you were just itchin' for the excuse to get your paws on her."

Marvene bit back a retort, not wanting to give the old bitch the satisfaction. When Milly had gone, she went to the vixen, and after hesitating, she knelt down and started to bathe her.

It was almost supper. Before long, Duke Charles would be setting out from Howlester with Judith and Hadly, and they would take the prince with them. The rest of the servants would hide in the manor's many hidden rooms, while the guards did their best to defend them. And the brat Jonathan would be leaving as well, thank the gods. And then she and Estica would have charge of the manner, and old bitches like Milly would have their lives in her paws. The foxes were coming. The foxes were coming.

Marvene swallowed hard as she wrung out the sponge and dabbed at the vixen's face. She watched Marvene with quiet, thoughtful eyes and sat against the bed, completely still. Marvene looked at her and knew she was probably one of the foxes who had led raids against Howlester, who had killed pups and females to steal milk and eggs and meat. She had to remind herself that the creature before her was dangerous, that it would kill her were it free.

But she looked in the vixen's eyes and didn't feel afraid. She just felt a pull. The magnetic pull she had only ever felt when looking in Estica's eyes as they made love.

Marvene pushed her thoughts away and gently dabbed the sponge against the vixen's breasts. With her arms above her head, the fox's large, soft breasts were thrust forward, as if they were being offered. The water soaked through her deerskin dress, bringing out the plump shape of them, the hard nipples. Marvene wiped the cum away with a shaking paw.

"Why are you afraid to touch me?" the vixen whispered after a while. She peered at Marvene steadily with her bright, hungry eyes. "I know well that you desire to."

"No. I don't." Marvene frowned, dropping her eyes to the sponge as she wrung it out over the bucket.

The vixen laughed softly. "I am Mogethis, priestess of she who cackles in the moonlight. All wish to touch me. My beauty has driven entire tribes to blood frenzy."

"What!" Marvene cried. She didn't know why she responded. Or why she was allowing the vixen to draw her into a conversation. She blinked and dropped her eyes to the sponge again. "I mean . . . s-shut up."

The vixen laughed softly. "Shut my mouth . . . or my legs? I can still open my legs, can I not?" So saying, she slowly drew her legs apart, setting her small feet flat on the carpet. Her fluffy tail curled around to lay beside her, as her deerskin dress slid back over her thighs, revealing her pretty pink sex. It was still glossy from the juices of her arousal, and her big breasts were practically pouring from her deep neckline. Marvene traced her eyes from the vixen's sex, up her narrow waist, and to her cleavage, but she quickly took up the sponge and went back to dabbing her face clean.

"Touch me," the vixen whispered and twisted seductively against the bedpost. Her long lashes blinked slowly as her slanted eyes peered into Marvene's. Marvene tried to ignore what was happening and kept dabbing with the sponge. But the vixen kept wriggling, until her large breast was hanging out of her neckline, full and swollen and sharp with a pink nipple. She moaned and sighed as she wiggled, flexing and squeezing her tight little sex against the air. Her thighs slid apart wider, and Marvene could see the moisture darkening the carpet as it leaked from her swollen lips.

"Mmm . . . I long for your touch . . . I ache . . . pretty creature that you are. . . ." Mogethis whispered. "Touch . . . touch me there . . . lick . . . suck . . ."

Marvene dropped the sponge with shaking paws, her eyes fixed on the vixen's curvy body as it twisted against the bedpost. She slowly leaned close . . . and buried her face in the large swollen breast that sat sharp before her, waiting to be sucked. She hefted it in her paw as she suckled, and it was so big and plump, it sank between her fingers until they almost disappeared. Her other paw found the vixen's sex, and her fingers glided carefully inside its heat, curling to stroke her toward throbbing arousal.

The vixen continued to twist and moan, and Marvene saw her white fur blushing prettily. Her lashes fluttered as Marvene gently pulled her lips away, then rolled her tongue carefully against her pink nipple, until a line of salvia connected nipple and tongue. She closed her lips on it again and smacked, and the vixen's sex gushed afresh. Her fingers sank deeper between her swollen lips, curling, caressing, until the vixen's head fell back and she cried out with heaving breasts. Her breasts rode in Marvene's face, and with sudden ferocity, she grabbed the vixen's neckline and tore. The vixen screamed softly as her big breasts poured out, naked and vulnerable, sharp with nipples and ready to squeeze. Marvene buried her face in them, trailing careful kisses up her neck, over her collarbone, nibbling her ear. She continued to finger, and the vixen was breathless and at the height of her ecstasy. Marvene heard her muttering breathlessly in her language, then her mouth found Marvene's and she kissed her passionately, tongue and all.

Marvene pulled her lips away, shaking all over and suddenly breathless. She could feel the moisture in her pants and blushed with shame. "This . . . I sh-shouldn't be. . . ."

Mogethis laughed softly. "So you say after ripping my clothes off. Untie me, pretty thing. Estica need never know."

Marvene blinked. "How d'you know 'bout Estica?"

The vixen smiled. "I can see your pretty mind. Now hurry." She twisted against the bedpost, her big breasts jiggling, the nipples rolling. "Hurry!" she hissed. "Untie me!"

Marvene thought of the pretty vixen sitting on her face, and licking her lips, she reached up to untie her. The vixen's wrists had been tied very tightly with the bed sheets - so tightly, Marvene silently cursed Jonathan when the sheet fell away to reveal the bruises on the vixen's arms. But the vixen didn't stop to look at her injuries. Blue eyes lit with hunger, she drew Marvene into her embrace and curled her fingers in her mane as she kissed her.

Marvene melted into the kiss, thinking with a thudding heart that if only Estica had ever kissed her this wildly - But her thoughts scattered when she heard her own dagger being pulled with a sharp ching. Her eyes snapped open. And she gasped against the vixen's lips as she felt the terrible pain of her own dagger slicing into her side.

"G-Gah . . ."

"Thank you," the vixen whispered, lips brushing Marvene's. She ripped the dagger free with a nasty crunch and blood splattered them both as Marvene fell over. Marvene clutched her bloody side with shaking paws and stared blankly at the ceiling, her body jerking as the fox yanked her sword free and took it as well. She sputtered weakly as her dark blood pooled slowly around her. And when she turned on her side, she could see the vixen's small feet running through her blood . . . as it escaped with her weapons.