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Friday of February, year 884, Kingdom Wafftam

Every page smells of our past adventures. Marcella's tears are imprinted into the paper along with the blood of her past fights and the seed of our love. I remember it like today, how she scribbled into it after our wild matings of the evening, when she was marked with the essence of me, the white fluid dribbling from her fingers and onto her hand written words. I couldn't take my eyes off her, only pretending to be asleep....

The scents tell more of a story than her words do; the same words I'm largely unable to read after all this time. They bear such emotions which my heart wouldn't be able to relive, and she herself has left the diary behind. Not to mention, that with her attending to business in Melessen at the current time, I'm somehow unable to peek into it without her given consent. We have our own brothel now, in a fair sized town Afertal of yet another kingdom I hadn't even known of existing - Wafftam. Our morph kind is on the seldom side in these parts. Who isn't a regular human is a mustelid at best, and just the sight of me strolling down an alley causes most to clutch to their swords. With humans making most of the possible customers, my wild girl decided to call this place the Vixen's Tear - the fox to lure one in, and the tear to symbolize the joy you'd find inside; and all the sadness that had spurred her to create the place.

"A lifted tail is only an invitation if you back it up with a good bending over." Would be her words on the matter. As such, the first thing she had done with the place was hanging burgundy curtains onto the roof beams of the outside walls. And did this place need such a touch. Even with all the gold we had brought with ourselves from the wretched lands beyond Kordonia, finding a place affordable enough to turn into a brothel was a true challenge. Melessen was our first guess, but with how infamous Marcella's name has gotten in her travels, and even with the Duke Schimon capable of holding his protective hand over us, she had found settling there too risky. And everywhere else, the gold the well fed merchants asked, especially for the fallen apart property we could afford, reeked of rotten fish. That was when we travelled here, into the kingdom kept a secret from common history. Wealthy bald skins - I really should stop using that term - hide here from the plotting of the rest of the Kingdoms, and spend their mellowing elderliness in company of servants and high class whores. Plenty of clientèle right off the start. The knee pads my love wears at all times had proven vastly useful in our humble starts in this place. And when we came upon this two storey wooden structure - a former library - she was sold on the idea of setting our brothel here.

The starts were rough. Rougher than when I was just a young pup, lost in the vast pine forests and looking for tribe, desperate, alone, not knowing where to turn. Among the frowning noses of the townies, the rooms of the library so ingrained with mould that most were unusable, and no girls willing to really put their heart into the courtesan craft, our outlooks were grim. But what gave us the most trouble were the town guards. Their constant pestering and unjust taxes were bleeding us dry. Marcella was the only - I don't even want to use the word - workforce at the time. The amount of freebies she had to dish out just so we could stay in business was absolutely disgusting. But she was always a clever fox. One after another, she wrapped all the young and naiver guards around her fingers, and with me challenging their captain for a tribal spar, which to this day I don't understand why he accepted, eased a lot of the pressure we had to withstand.

Things only started to move when the odd bull Mana from my home kingdom of Ferlow sent Marcella three of his vixens. I remember them by their scents mostly, as only one of them wasn't wafting of foul intentions from a valley away. She had an adoringly small tail for a fox, a beautiful butt always on display, all curves and irresistible crevices, and the most innocent muzzle I've ever encountered. Sofien. She is still working with us to this day, and the white furred fox really helped us in the beginnings. The other two were both red foxes, and while I eventually took liking to them as well, they were in it only for the coin. Luffy was a very skilled dancer, while Sissa, the thinner of them, was so accustomed to anal sex some clients grew especially attached to her.

Marcella was a real stone fox when it came to her brothel. Once it became known a girl wasn't putting her heart into the craft, and wasn't willing to learn any new skills, she booted her out. And I have to agree with her. Whenever our courtesans cheated someone for coin, or brought out their services in the form of a limp rag doll just waiting for the client to finish, it hurt our brothel for weeks. Word of mouth passed fast; mind numbingly fast, in fact, given what a taboo the topic was - and still is. Eventually, with the two vixens gone for good, we acquired or first vixen off the street. Marcella wooed her into joining our brothel. And with her slender legs, small butt that seemed to be parting at all times, naive looking face and coating of silvery grey fur, she was a real eye catcher. But by the spirits, how whiny she'd grow at times. No matter how many times I tried to help her with her problems, the next day, she'd whine even stronger, constantly pulling off drama in the entry hall....

Ah, they were all mischievous and needy little things. But since fantasy rarely turns to reality smoothly, I only sparsely delivered my knot to other fox than Marcella. Yes, they were carnal little creatures, their tails rarely ever dropping, but they turned cold and indifferent when approached. It made for plenty harsh, lonely nights while my Warrior Vixen was out there hunting for new girls, or visiting her old contacts and gaining more support for building our cause. In her mind, bringing more love into the world was the most acute duty in the world...but oh boy, was I a lonely pup of a wolf with her gone. By the first year coming to its end, our overly fractured lives have calmed down again. We had the guards tamed, the first five loyal vixens with unending passion for whoring under our protection, a good deal of the brothel fixed, and with several wealthy, good natured patrons visiting us routinely, it was all starting to look good.

I remember the sweet, lingering smell in the entry hall clearly, Marcella having called all of our courtesans down there. It was the regular meeting we were having, usually at the end of the week as she addressed any complaints the clients had given us, and as well, to check up on the girls herself. With the place nearing full renovation - mostly because we paid a good deal of the work with a bent over vixen - the entry hall was a grandiose chamber of chestnut wood pillars, richly red carpeting, and walls lined with engraved wood panels, only lighter in colour and softly reflective. It had an enveloping aura of raw, yet subtle ecstasy. And that sweet smell? That was my slutty vixen Marcella, already dripping with strands of her fox nectar, when she dragged me behind one of the pillars.

She was clad in a loose black corset, just so so hiding her nipples and pushing her white furred breasts into open gazes. The fabric was speckled with stripes of wine-red cloth, running from her waistline and up under the line of her bosom, accentuating her features so well - the generous curves keeping my eyes safely on her waist. Her frill sleeves were slender and tightly hugging her arms, holding onto her just by a strap on her finger. And looking as deviously sexy as ever, she shook her hips, smiling her muzzle of delights, sending her puffy skirt swaying with her.

It was a strange, custom made piece of attire she wore at all times; fully covering her hips and butt with nicely fluffed fabric, folding into flaps of no less bordeaux lure, but over her pubes, it was cut open and putting her ever slutty vixenhood on full display. And with her transparent thigh highs, metal knee cushions and slender long boots, no less black than her corset, she was the spawn of seed dripping heavens of absolute sodomy.

I was firmly in her sweet trap of honeyed orifices as she skilfully unbuttoned and unzipped any clothing I had, dropping my purple attire to the ground. My balls were the first to be kneaded by her, the vixen purring into my ear, "You big pointy wolf...I know my girls don't give you the attention you deserve."

She was swelling my pride with mere touches, my wolf spear already throbbing in the warming air. "They...they think I'm too whiny for them...."

"Whiny?" she trilled, her velvety hand tracing along my sensitive flesh. "Dear, that is the best thing about you...well...." She chuckled, closing her fingers about my inflating knot. "...other than your large...delicious...throbbing...veiny...ohhhh...you sexy bastard."

Marcella dragged me out of our hiding place, out amidst the courtesans sitting encircled at the centre of the hall, their bushy tails cushioned on luxuriously padded chairs. Despite I was more naked than clothed during my years with Marcella, and however our wanton courtesans were used to naked tribal wolves jutting outright, I still felt anxious to be so exposed before them.

"Miss Tanith?" one of them asked, her tail swatting at her chair. "Why are you parading your lover in here?"

Marcella made it a point to use the goddesses name, Tanith, with anyone but me. Bounty hunters and her infamy alike, using a fake identity was our safest bet. And the clients loved it. Where else could you get a chance to share a bed with the vixen goddess of sex and courting?

Marcella...well, Tanith, grinned at me, her fangs reminiscent of the passionate hunger that was always bubbling up within her. I felt her hand tugging at my wolf cock, causing me to yelp, when, growling in her sexy voice, she dropped onto her knees and my heart leapt with excitement.

Her cute whiskers tickled my wolfhood, my hopelessly slutty lover talking just hairs away from kissing my tip. "I don't like it, but I have to address a serious concern, my girls. It has come to my attention, that you, my courtesans...have serious skill deficits in sucking delicious wolf cock!" She leaned in closer, delivering a small kiss on my crown, gently and so lovingly perverted - just what I had hoped for in my imagination.

She was there, at my feet, her muzzle about to slide all the way to my knot as she closed my pointy tip inbetween her lips, warm and wet - a promise of raw pleasures. Her tongue submerged my underside in her spit, and as she suckled deeper along my flesh, her cheeks swelling with my throbbing girth, she moaned as if her carnal prayers have been finally answered. The moist flesh of Marcella's muzzle was the perfect sheath for me. I took a quick glance at the girls, the mischievous vixens watching us, some puffing their cute button like noses in arousal, some rolling their eyes in boredom; but one, sneering at the display - which had stung me as if a claw - stood up, and wagging her tail angrily, worked her way through the chairs to leave.

Marcella withdrew off my throbbing spear of love, several strings of spit and precum hanging from her lips. She barked aloud at the girl, "Hey! Where are you going. Hm? Is this how you value your work?"

The courtesan stopped mid track, her brush of a tail delivering a sharp flick. And as she turned around, the orange-white fur of her face writhed in disapproval, she answered Marcella in a flat tone, "I have better things to do than watch you suck your pet wolf off."

"Is that so, then?" my love was quick to retort. "And how do you hope to have faith in anything at all, if you cannot give the wolf that protects you the oral pleasure he deserves? Seriously, get down here. I will tutor you on his magnificent wolf cock, before you forget how to even court."

"With all due...respect...mistress...are you really...," Her voice tailed off, the vixen's muzzle sinking to the ground. The sudden disappearance of her feisty tendencies had baffled me, but only for so long, before I looked at my love. Her eyes were squinted into thin angry lines and her muzzle was only fangs and growls, the vixen, to me so tenderly, seemed about to lash out at the girl.

I felt Marcella's lips dragging tightly along my vein engorged shaft, as she murred and smacked her mouth noisily, aiming those deeply blue eyes at me. Her love was her carnal desire, all the spit, precum, and heavy musk to mark her fur and body. She allowed my tapered phallus to come falling from her cute mouth, and as she gulped down the mixture of fluids pooled atop her tongue, she urged the uncooperative courtesan to kneel at my feet. "Come and prove your skill. If you have any...and if not, what better place to train, than under a virile wolf's crown?" A wave of heat rushed along the length of my body, hearing her words.

The apathetic vixen groaned, but her hips brushing by the other sitting girls - all curious smirks plastered on their faces - she walked to my side, her gaze firmly on the flooring.

Marcella teased her with her causal sarcasm, "So? Eager to begin? Or are you looking to scrub the rug?" My love shuffled to the side, almost remorseful of having to leave my knotty delight uncared for, when the red-fox courtesan dropped onto her knees dully, bringing her small nose at the tip of my throbbing meat.

From under her strands of freely hanging braids of hair, she pierced me with a resentful gaze - as if commanding me to stop it all. With her pointy muzzle perched so close to wrapping tightly about my phallus, her angry, bright grey eyes unmovingly gawking into mine, and her kneeling form dominated by my tribal qualities, that was the last thing I'd ever want to do. I placed my paw on her head, rubbing her sharp tipped ear in my fingers, and as I smiled down at her, I uttered in the sweetest voice I could manage.

"You will do fine. I'm sure of it."

She snorted through her nose. The wetly feeling draft of breath washed over my knot and the vixen shut her eyes - as if too angry to even look. Every vein in my cock pulsed with understood anticipation. She parted her mouth, and the softly pink flesh of her lips, lined with creamy white fur, wrapped itself about my pointy tip. I moaned acknowledgedly, her wolf untouched mouth sucking small distance forward, dragging itself onto my girthier parts, and giving her ear a playful flick, I hid both my paws behind my back, allowing her free reign.

If only she enjoyed it as much as my love did. The vixen was overly mechanical as she angrily snorted every time she bottomed out on my length, eyes closed tightly and dancing with her head atop my spear. Only the feeling of warm jets of precum meddling with her vixen saliva, smearing me all over, gave me the rush of passion I so hoped for.

Marcella pinched my buttcheek to interrupt, asking, "How is she? But honest, Skimpy Tail. I know you like to give the girls some lenience."

Momentarily, the cute fox courtesan giving me oral pleasures hastened her efforts, even giving her limp tongue a jolt of action, flicking it across my underside. But I had my reply ready. "She is not putting her whole heart into it," I said, as warmly as I could.

I wasn't in the least prepared of the angry vixen gaze the courtesan bestowed me with, and only once she sucked me deeper, the tips of her fangs grazing gently - yet profoundly - against my swollen shaft, it fully occurred to me she was gaining all control. Yet against all that, she was turning out to be a true heaven. The vixen began to moan, smacking her lips and gagging as she took me to the knot again and again, her warm embrace steadily rising in resemblance to my one and only Marcella. And as soon as a string of spit formed on the red fox's chin, dangling wildly along with her motions, my warrior vixen stepped in.

She tapped on the courtesan's head, the act oddly cute, before she growled in a high and firm voice, "Better now, isn't it? You have to desire what you have on your tongue, dear." Marcella turned her head towards the rest of the courtesans, continuing, "...then, you will always win a way into their heart. And well, if they don't appreciate you, you can always show teeth to remind them you can bite...." Her unrestrained titter filled the hall.

The vixen at my feet kissed the tip of my enlarged to bursting rod, chuckling to herself. Then, she shuffled away, her gaze of darkly grey eyes seeming to be drifting atop arousal; so much different to the contempt she was showing at the beginning.

"So, who goes next...," Marcella exclaimed, nuzzling my pubes and stroking the bottom of my wolfhood as if presenting it. "...some eager vixen? Eager for a wolf vixen? Come on...Sasha, when was the last time you tasted a real male?"

A young vixen growled in response. She was somewhere close to me, but I was too dazed to pinpoint her, gazing at the red fox that was servicing me mere moments ago, as she swayed her tail the short distance back to her chair.

"Gosh, miss Tanith. Are you expecting us all to take turns sucking his cock?" one of the other vixens asked, her voice squeaky with bewilderment, but also marked with arousal.

Marcella took a deep inhale of my groin; and going by the spark in her vividly blue eyes, she was revelling in my musk. "I want you to learn, my dear. Same as when I ask you to train...and hold a sword properly, is this a training. This wolf...my wolf, is keeping you safe and well mannered in my absence. And when I ask you to please him a little...? You are struggling to deliver! Shows you have real deficits, girls. How I can trust you to please a client, if you cannot take the proper care of one of ours?" Her words lingered heavily in the air, and my heart thumped vigorously in my chest, both thanks to her speech, and thanks to the young vixen Sasha that had decided to depart from her chair. She shuffled on her knees under me, and as I felt the warm breath of another young vixen washing over my spear, all of my fur tingled.

She looked at me from under my thick shaft, biting her lip and asking a question, "Was this your idea, Amand? You know...you could have just asked for my muzzle." Not waiting for an answer, she moaned happy, sliding herself onto my red phallus, her sweetly damp mouth to be desecrated by my overflowing fluids - slowly, but surely.

And as with the first red-fox, I kneaded her ear, murmuring to entice her. "Heh...perhaps...but no, really, I'm just being the role model here-"

"Really?" Marcella was quick to whip me with her sarcastic tone. "Haven't you wished for your vixens to service you? The big, mighty, powerful...virile...tribal wolf you are? For us to kneel at your feet, sucking you, hoping to release your nectar upon our needy maws?" Her honeyed words intoxicated me as strongly as the public pleasures, the depraved nuances of her poetry flowing into me akin the gazes of the courtesans chirping with each other - some chuckling merrily, others stroking their own bodies in arousal.

She was the one vixen in the world to make me feel like a true god. And joining Sasha who was delicately pursing her lips about my pulsing wolfhood, she was a goddess to nibble gently at my testes, the one vixen to forever change my life.

Sasha was a red fox too, albeit with a very different fur pattern compared to most of those mischievous creatures. On her face, she had a streak of white fur running down her forehead and around her lips - the moment moist and dripping with my own precum - that was framed with brightly orange fur covering her bulging cheeks and bridge of her muzzle, contrasting nicely with her chestnut hair. It was almost shameful to desecrate such a pretty young face, but to buck my hips to poke at the poor girl's throat, to hear her mouth squelch against my rigid erection as she slid back and forth, to continue until all our mixed fluids streamed into the crack of her cleavage, it was a delight to stain both her revealing dress and the white fur of her firm breasts.

And with Marcella licking over my sensitive knot and prodding her tongue into my sheath, I felt the sensation of tightness grow within my pubes, every vein in my wolfhood throbbing as I firmly explored the vixen's mouth - soft, warm and velvety, the courtesan hungrily sucking at my flesh totem pole. All of my seed was already bubbling down to erupt within her mouth, when pinching pain at the root of my spear forced me yelp like a pup. I looked down in distress, the pressure within my groin climbing to burst, but with my lusty vixen's fingers closed tightly about the root of my manhood, all the feral seed was trapped to stay.

Marcella stroked my abdomen passionately, purring through her lips, "No no...not yet, my love. How am I to train the girls if you pop right away?" Then, aiming her blue eyes at the vixen Sasha - who was then absently twirling her tongue about my crown - and Marcella released her with a distinct praise in her voice. "Ohh...very nice, Sasha. That is exactly how you handle a wolf. Poor Skimpy Tail almost shot his load." She chuckled, closing her fingers about the base of my cock even firmer.

With a lecherous grin, the red-fox Sasha departed by kissing me on my angrily twitching wolf spear. "Tasting good as always, little wolf," she said, coiling her tail closely behind her back. "I might give Tanith the benefit of doubt, and taste you plenty more often." To mark her words, she slurped her fingers clean, seating herself back upon her chair to watch the rest of the spectacle.

I felt Marcella's tongue on my tip next as she eased the grip upon my root, applying only the amount of caress to keep me rigid, but not to arouse me further. "To be honest, I'd love to have you for myself...," she whispered in breaths of velvet and indecency. "...but this spear...the wolf power you have hiding under the odd layers of violet, is a tide of virility too precious for only one vixen to enjoy."

Her words were instilling me with arousal of unlike this world, and as she placed her pinkish vixen lips on my red crown, all smeared with vixen saliva, I splattered her mouth with a rope of my thick precum. She sighed in delight, swallowing audibly before she continued her gale of deliciousness. "See? It's so rich in tastes, I'm already dripping wet. You were just made for giving the vixens your knot...hmm? Weren't you, Skimpy Tail? Can you smell it? Can you smell them salivating all over their chairs?"

Marcella's blue eyes glinted as I panted rapidly, and the spicy smells surging through my contested nose, all a mix of vixens vying for a thorough knotting, I felt that raw, primal scratching at the back of my mind. They were all there for me, moist and virile, dripping for a strong male to take them.

Only Marcella's voice kept me on a leash. "Pick one. They won't be able to resist. Right, girls?"

Her wavy flocks of brown reddish hair, the red fur of her eyes topping the white and grey mingling on her muzzle, that nose just asking to be glazed, and her aqua eyes, at all times sharp and flowing with mischief...I wanted to take her like the old times. Tie my fingers into her silky hair, intertwine us just like our souls in the stream of time, and bring my cock down her throat, fucking her face in the ways she loved the most. Depraved, forceful, and downright ingrained with juices of sex.

A rough pinching snapped me from my primal needs, as if small fangs grazing me. I glanced down in distress, meeting one angry vixen there, her maw open and her teeth sinking gently into my cock flesh. "Thinking of using me for one of your rituals again? Pick one girl, Amand, or I'll be having your curvy backside instead," Marcella growled in a playful tone.

And truly. Why have one vixen, when I could have any and all in the room? At least that's what my knot had to say about it, because on the contrary, my heart belonged to one and only. The grey fox at my feet....

I licked my lips obscenely, letting my grin show full wide. "Mmmhm. Which of you needy tails should I pick for my godly needs?" Down from inbetween my thighs, Marcella giggled. I gave her a quick smile, and raising my eyes back up, I chose a vixen in the room. "Oh yes...Oleska...come kneel before the wolf." I pointed my finger - and with it my meaty spear - at a black furred fox sitting cross-legged on a stool closest to me. I could smell her need so well as if I had my nose buried in her delicious vixen flower already.

Oleska blinked, giving Marcella a wide eyed glance. "Tanith?" she whined, already shuffling onto her knees before me. "Are you sure he is not...it is, the thing, how he gets all savage, my mistress. I'm off the herbs right now...."

Marcella chuckled, sliding aback to give the dark furred fox some space to please me. "You aren't afraid, I hope?" she used her soothing charms to calm her. "He is well mannered, my girl,...and...I mean, you'd known that if you ever took the proper care of him...right? So, show him some love, Oleska."

My skin tingled under the barrage of small drafts of air leaving Oleska's nose. She was already poking her tongue out to taste me, her muzzle quite blunt and meaty for a fox, but no less cute. She had a lot of blood mixed within her, at least dozen dogs, quite the high number of vixens, and even one wolf - if I was to believe my nose.

She wagged her fox tail, plopping on her butt and opening a tight corset to free a pair of beautifully rounded breasts. Oleska was the sweeter of the foxes, even if then was the first time I received a prolonged taste of her steamy mouth, her words marking that. "Look, I never wanted to get between you two. You and him, you have history...and, I wanted to keep my work here."

Marcella exclaimed in a gleeful voice, "How sweet!" Then, switching her tone into gentle sarcasm, she marked her every word with passionate murmurs. "I never thought a vixen would wait for a permission. But now you have one. And I'd like to see, my sweet, how well you can pleasure a real wolf." She nipped a kiss on the young vixen's cheek.

I could only whine in high pleasures, the pleasantly shaped and big bosomed vixen Oleska parting her lips and pushing her muzzle against my knotted spear. It disappeared in her slowly, first the pointy end of my cock, slicking against her tongue, then the blunt edged crown of my meaty shaft popping in, sounding a muffled gaps from the vixen's throat, and finally, her eyes aimed at my fur covered pubes, she slid her soft mouth across my whole length, great and comfortable warmth enveloping me.

Only then I realised how incredibly messy she was. Just the first three bobs of her head smearing me with her spit, and stringing ropes of saliva were already splattering between my tingling balls and her well sized breasts. She smacked her lips each given chance, moaned, sucked against my rubbed sensitive skin, and yet as I saw her neck contracting, swallowing all that goodness, globules of saliva rolled across the vast plains of her furred décolletage, creating a literal river in the crack therein.

Marcella watched with glee, not bothering to hide the overly approving tone of her voice. "So messy, my girl. See, my dear vixens, this is how a real oral pleasing should look like." She positioned herself next to Oleska, extending her tongue to lap in one heavily hanging rope of spit. "I can taste you both in here...mmm...so virile, my wolf. Oleska, mind slowing down a little...? Good. Girls, pay attention. While the techniques of manhood pleasing are important, what is far more crucial is your heart. You have to feel what the wolf wants, how deep he demands you...and once you give him a hairs length of what he expects, you can tame him. Because...when he feels you yearn after him, that during the moment, the only thing that matters to you is his rigid phallus exploring your mouth, he might puff up so much he thinks he has the upper hand. But if, at the same time, he feels he hasn't seen all of you yet, that he hasn't explored all of you yet, he will obediently give himself to you. And you have him conquered...."

As much as I knew her during my life, her little speech, her idea of a love song, had caused the skin under my fur to burn as if I was in fever. The words were, after all, Marcella's biggest weapon. There were plenty vixens that could chase down your cock and make you cum as if you were bursting open. But only my love could wrap her ministrations in such poetry, that the act of love making felt as if connection of souls.

Oleska mumbled something hard to comprehend - which was, with my thick wolfhood muffling her, not surprising - and gagging herself on my pointy tip, I felt my knot teased by the stretched flesh of her dark lips. Drenched wet and soft, her throat contracted upon the blunt edge of my crown. I couldn't believe my eyes - the girl was sinking deeper to take my knot within her mouth.

"Oleska...? Are you sure about this?!" Marcella gasped. "That is a dangerous feat...be careful...."

As if synced with her words, my sensitive knot popped behind Oleska's lips. Her neck bulged, her cheeks stained with fresh tears, and most notably, she started to gag on my overly swollen cock. I growled in feral pleasures. For a wolf, to knot a virile fox like her was the peak of existence; and with my sensitive orb of flesh locked tight behind her lips, I was numbed in mind and senses.

But the poor girl was not only knotted, she was completely stuck. Her tears glistened in the rivers of desperation that flowed down her cheeks, when, her nose twitching and leaking, the poor vixen gagged in a dire fight for air. It took me a second to notice her struggles. But as soon as I did, I snapped from my feral drives. Her muzzle was already drenched fully wet when I placed my paws on it, trying to slide my thumbs behind her mouth corners. It was my good will to dislodge my knot and free her.

I said in soothing voice, "Sorry...a knot's a knot...I'll get it out." When, me tugging a little, my swollen lump of flesh snapped free, right into a mixture of wet throaty coughing and tides of spit dripping en mass onto the carpeted floor. "Are you all right there?" I asked her, holding her muzzle upright.

"It will pass, my girl...you're doing great," Marcella chirped in. "...lucky he is such a sweetheart. Your run of the mill tribal wolf would have kept you knotted, amused of your struggles." Upon finishing the sentence, her tail twitched angrily.

Oleska cleared her throat, her breasts downright soaked in all kinds of bodily fluids, and crossing her eyes, as if speaking to my spear instead of me, she coughed up, "I got a bit ahead of myself.... Thanks Amand. G-give me a breather."

My pointy tip spurted a lengthy rope of precum on the vixens face; she twitched, and I couldn't do other than chuckle, "...heh...sorry about that. My spear seems to be pleased. Yes, take a break, my vixen. You were incredible." And growling of mischief, I poked her nose with my cock. "...and...whenever you need someone to practice on, my knot is ever eager. You'll be taking a wolf as well as my love in no time...."

I felt two fingers creeping along the crevice of my posterior, when, two small claws brushing by my tail a warning, they forced themselves into my ass - a good deal of stinging discomfort following in their wake.

Marcella gazed at me from under her brow, just as a vixen growling in upset would, but the glow in her eyes told me otherwise. "You're getting a bit too puffed up, my love. Luckily, I know how to tame a misbehaving wolf." Her fingers flexing and twirling, I was left yelping and whining amid the amused vixens, their tails wagging as if one. "Theory time, my girls. How do we tame a cocky wolf speaking not his mind, but his knot?"

They kept silent, only low titters breaking the whistling of my pulsing nose.

"Really? No one? Well, it seems I'm taming the wrong tail here," Marcella exclaimed sharply, pushing her fingers so far up my tail opening I howled. "All of you girls, next to me. The difference between being tamed and taming, is the amount of skill you put into the tugging. For example, if Oleska had been more versed in handling knots? Skimpy Tail here would be, in no way in the Kingdoms, as puffed up as he is right now. Is that correct, my loose tail?"

She slid the third finger into my tailhole, the act as beautiful as humiliating and forcing me to cry in response, "Yes! I'll fuck and knot you all, you slutty whores!"

Marcella slapped my ass, the blow folding my ears. "That's the spirit, you dirty tribal savage. Knot these misbehaving vixens!" Malice and wrongdoing, her voice was the tool of the wicked.

After a bit of coaxing, all the vixens knelt next to Marcella, forming a half circle at the base of my feet. Seeing them before me, kneeling in submission, under my rigid manhood throbbing in front of their sensitive noses, I licked my lips and grabbed one of the vixen's heads, already pushing my blunt rimmed crown past her puckered lips. I could only wonder how it was possible. With Marcella around, the vixens turned into my personal wolf sluts; and the act of misusing them, however vile, only set their eyes aglow with the dearest wishes of pleasing me fully.

The first vixen murred and slurped on my meaty wolf spear, her white fur glistening in the low light. Her cheeks inflated with every pass of my tapered length as I was bucking my hips into her hungry maw, her murmurs of pleasures turning into raw moans, I having fucked her face into a tear ridden painting. And the wolf spirits of my ancestors, commending me for my conquers, joined me at my side. She pushed herself deeper onto my phallus, against everything I'd ever expect, and the fox slid farther until my wolf knot was perched just at the edge of her lips.

My love Marcella propped herself closer, guiding my veiny knot into the courtesans mouth. "Slowly, now. I know you're all hungry for a real male...," she growled into her folded ear. "...but around such powerful thing as a wolf knot, you have to be very careful." Then, closing her fingers about the root of my knotted pride, she made sure I wouldn't ejaculate too soon, my knot finally slipping into the moist mouth of the courtesan.

Fur upon sensitive flesh, the vixens took me one after another, slurping at me and admiring my body as if I was a god. And Marcella, overseeing the whole oral knotting closely, made sure neither of the parties would get hurt. As far back as I can think of, she was always the goddess of sex, bringing the gift of pleasure to mere mortals in this world, where they wrapped themselves within the ecstasy of a fluffy fox tail. Could anyone blame her, that she wanted her girls to deliver the best of possible services? Me, certainly not, because she was always right: there is never enough love in the world. And my take on that love was a stiff knot entering the soft, warm insides of needy vixens, as they slurped, hummed and gagged, dripping their essence into the growing mess on the floor. Marcella was not satisfied until each of them took my knot. But her satisfaction also required all of our courtesans to be taught how to take the bulging tie properly. Oleska, the generously bosomed black furred fox, was able to take my knot with no hindrance at the end of the session.

Of course, only after a prolonged demonstration by my one and only Marcella, I was given the right to finish; her swollen cheeks and throbbing throat pushing me all the way to the climax. And that was how the carnal lesson had ended. All the long hours into the night, the grey fox with her incredibly large, bushy tail swishing, stripped herself fully of her already revealing clothes, and swaying herself to her knees, she made me the happiest wolf in the Kingdoms.

He tears of love made my heart flutter with forbidden passion. A mistress of sex, my knot was no challenge as she pushed it past her lips, letting her throat milk my spear for all its worth, and tugging herself off its relentless bulging - the firm grip of her lips easing - she withdrew and repeated her feat. There wasn't a single strand of my fur free of sweat, spit or cum. From the long evening where my body had been downright worshipped, only after each and every of the courtesans was trained to please me, was Marcella ready, contently humming on my wolf spear that had been created just for her, in the old ages whence we came.

My muscles all contracted into firmness of rocks, the feral spirit within me rushing to burst into Marcella's incredibly skilled muzzle. All I could do was gasp without any sound, holding her head, stroking her wavy locks of reddish hair, as I knew she was at the peak of her bliss. I could see it, the tell tale glow of bliss swelling in her eyes, and I could feel, as if we were one, that our beings were intertwined in time.

The first globule of seed burst right into my love's muzzle, the force of it shuddering my groin in a rippling mixture of sharp pains and carnal ecstasy. Yet, with the second ropey string of my wolf essence, she aimed my cocktip up and over her nose, with the rich, thick fluid slapping soundly into her cheeks and forehead. But the other vixens were not ready for what followed. Marcella's lust ridden laugh reverberated in the hall, and tugging me in all the wide directions with her softly furred paw, I painted the rest of the vixens. A display of pure indulgence; my white, glistening with virility seed splashing over their features, giving those cute noses, long, richly combed hairs and alluringly shaped facial curves a hearty share of my musky wolf cum. I was denied my release so long, that with the tides being opened, I howled into the ceiling. And with the violent throbs of my sensitive wolfhood coming to its ends, every mischievous tail in sight was dripping with my thickness, marked for me to enjoy and dominate.

The spirits of my tribal ancestors whispered approving chorales into my ears. I had lived their long lost dream, of finding mates both loving for soul and corrupt for flesh.

'To give the wolf conqueror what is just of his actions. Be it to give or take, a spirit is of decision what is his own.'

Sadly, with evenings like those increasing in presence, I'd be hard pressed to remember them all. But I received their love ever since, whenever Marcella decided her skilled courtesans were lacking in something. And as is her philosophy, she taught them the ways of bow shooting, tongue twirling, sword handling, and tail lifting. If they were to be safe, they had to know how to handle themselves. And as Marcella put it, the safest vixen is the one that can choose her client on her own whims, not the other way around.

And me, I was their big, protective wolf. Well, not that big...but I like to think so nonetheless. When my lover and mistress Marcella was around, I had always spent all of my free time with her. One could say I loved all of the vixens, the little army of cock hungry whores, but the one I truly loved was her. Keeping her happy and well satisfied was something I didn't even have to think about. And whenever she was on a high pay client visit, the other vixens had me kept warm and happy.

We had always spent a good deal of the mellower days on the garden balcony, watching the rustling leaves and peaceful sky, our tails rubbing each other lovingly. Most wolves would speak of incredible stereotype, being tied to one mate and denied the rush of hunting. Me, I'd call them blind and stupid. Our sex encounters, however numerous, however frequent, were a new hunt every time. My slutty vixen had always found mischievously creative ways how to spice up our knotting sessions. As that one time, when, breaking all of her rules, she took her tongue to my tailhole. She had kissed my anus and licked me into release, not even squeezing my knot once. Try not to love a vixen like her.

Life was good. And...it still is, if we have our share of problems.

There was always the headache of getting enough gold to keep everything running. Marcella, as my love is, was always eerily good at opening purses and attaining more gold than other courtesans. But it is her nature that she loves whoring for the act of it itself; for bending herself over and letting the needy ones enjoy her love boundless, not for the piling mountains of gold. Not only was it a hell of a task getting the other courtesans to follow such outlook on the whole art, it also meant we were hardly scraping gold to survive. Marcella refused to fall into shady schemes to pry more money from our clients. But at the end of the day, it was her that came up with a solution. Her and our elite pack of spear handlers were to go under an expensive rate - for those most vixen hungry of men, and those who were simply looking for a place to spill seed, we had our regular courtesans.

Unlike our hand picked vixens, those were just local peasant girls looking for a way to survive and make money - Marcella had simply given them the safer alternative to selling themselves on the streets. A girl would come, get herself inspected by Marcella - we had to keep diseases at bay - and if she didn't have a pine cone for a head, she was free to stay and make gold. More so, they were free to use any unneeded clothing we had laying around and wear face masks to keep their anonymity. My slutty vixen was actually so good at keeping a whore's identity hidden, our brothel has seen a fair share of wealthy housewives hoping for extra gold, noble tush thrill seekers with a knack for being used, and if the rumours are ever to be believed, even king Vincent's dearest queen. But there was such a lid on everything, that even I, Marcella's soul mate and deeply knotted lover, am unaware who was that shrouded woman visiting us.

The large village we have picked as our rooting place, those three and some years back, had undergone striking changes along with our brothel. Once our little place, The Vixen's Tear, was fully renovated and our army of hardened battle vixens assembled, our business had started to pick up at an incredible tempo. A brothel was nothing original, especially in this world of death, cheating and misery, but my vixen's place, her dream we assembled from the ashes of one man's wicked existence, was a no ordinary whorehouse. The place spoke largely of Marcella, everything inside was touched by her creative, just as the bordeaux curtains always resembling the sash she had used to wear.

We couldn't turn down any opportunity in pushing the boundaries of what was considered desecration. The east wing of Vixen's Tear ground level hosted a grand dancing hall, where we planned our closed events. Be it singer's night, where the audience was captivated by a high vocal presentation of a vixen with a fist sized knot up her sphincter, or a night of the nature painters, where one of our girls got her all natural fur pattern touched up by our visitors seed.... I think I don't have to push the point she was swimming in it at the end of it. But me, I far more preferred being the knot in the singers event; or truly, anything that had needed my knot to go in a vixen. The infamy of our spectacles soon found its way into daily gossips, and while during the day we had new batches of guards pestering us, our little brothel was in no way threatened by them - because, the same guards were quick to join our visitors for the night spectacles. Marcella had stricken them in both the most vital spots; their groins and hearts alike. And in the end, the village grew alongside our brothel.

In the last year, I received far better handling from our pack of wild vixen courtesans. It wasn't uncommon for me to have a different vixen for each night bedding, simply coiled about my body and pleasing me for long hours. And all thanks to Marcella. The brothel really is her personal heaven amid the Kingdoms, her wants and talents manifested into the lovely structure where we reside. She passed all of her knowledge onto our courtesans, and while they can court as well as her, and are getting as good with the bow and a sword as her, they simply don't have her spirit. The brave soul I felt within her the first moments we tied, I found in no other woman I ever met. Before or after.

I can attest she had built something wonderful here, the decadence of wood and cloth, as she likes to call it, is no mere thing. It is her and her soul projected onto the world, within the slutty tendencies and a knack for rough, I dare no one had brought as much love into the world as her. Or, truly, who knows. She has me wrapped about her tail closer than the stockings she wears every day of the year.

"Skimpy tail?" Hearing that spoken into my ear, that mixture of snarky love and under purred vying for playful dominance, it got me every time. "How are the vixens now? Still misbehaving?"

"No...ever since you showed them the way, they are only playfully mischievous."

Marcella could stir an erection from me in mere seconds, and that time was no exception. "As in...waking you up at night, just to suck on your spear?" She pressed her lips onto my length, and murring, she spread her warmth across my sensitive skin.

"I shall correct myself...no, they are not behaving at all...."

She chuckled about my pointy cock, my love for her already swelling into reality. "That is what I wanted to hear, love."

She truly cared for her girls. The vixens we had amassed over time, she holds them as close to her heart as me. It never occurred to me before, at least not as clearly as when I had dug up her old diary, that how strongly she fought her nature by setting up this place. My ever travelling little Marcella, opening her legs for someone new each time, not keeping any contact with anyone for longer than a handful of weeks at most. But for me and our courtesans, she renewed contacts with her old acquaintances, gathered old favours and set up so much needed resource lines.

To keep our girls free of pregnancies and diseases, we were spending large portions of our income on a special mixture of herbs. We had decided to steer clear of the low quality sludge most cheap whores used and to dish out for the best of the crop. But sadly, even the expensive price tag couldn't ensure to keep the side effects at bay. After long weeks of contemplating, Marcella decided to contact the bear wizard Villion, to see if he could extract the magic from her protective ring. The rune engraved, gold made jewel which had allowed her to be as slutty as she desired with almost no ill side effects - the gift from her father.

"...other than the broken hearts. Nothing could ever help there...." She would certainly add.

It was the first, and also likely to be the only time I was to carry out a journey on my own. Because, and I cannot really blame her, Villion was always a piece of work. If it was Marcella visiting him, the old bear would likely end up with an arrow up his bum. I was scarred like a pup to go alone, to go travelling without her at my side. However, I proved to be lucky in my travels, avoiding any dangers. But what baffles me, even if it shouldn't, is that Marcella trusted me with her ring. The only memento of her dear father, it was the one possession I never believed she could part with. Yet, she only smiled as she gave it to me, joking that I should hurry up because the herbs are going to make her insane - all kinds of knot shaped snakes crawling all over the place for her.

Villion had never changed much. At first, I was even looking forward to see the old bastard, because underneath his sour outlooks and never ending scowls, he was a peaceful creature. Of course, he had to throw it into my face I had broken his eye all those years back - the first words leaving his mouth upon our meeting, but it only made it so much more rewarding to remind him how he had begged for my knot. Yes...I couldn't do it at the time, not with my mind anxious for Marcella...but he had sort of mellowed after showing his colours. Breaking one's eye and then rejecting his pleas for a wolf tie; an odd way to get onto someone's good sides. But it had perhaps reminded the bear that not all of the world gravitated about his heavy behind. The same behind I knotted on my recent visit, turning the bear into a delicious vixen. Heh. But I shouldn't be boasting...once he was recovered, he bent me over a thick table, giving my poor butt a thorough conquering of his no less thick ursine cock.

With our negotiations concluding into a sticky mess, Villion had finally offered his help with extracting the spell. And it was no easy task; only after a week of experimentation, we managed to make a measly duplication of Marcella's ring. That seemed good enough for me, but the bear insisted on giving it more work, and not a day later, he had managed to create a derived formula for imbuing gold. Sadly, no other material proved to be as good in conducting the spell, but I could hardly whine. It was the much sought after improvement over the dreaded herbs - if expensive.

And so even I contributed a worthy ally to our cause. With Marcella currently working the Duke of Melessen deeper into our pocket - and deeper into some other places too, I fret - we are world equipped for almost any threat that could find us with a tail up and in heat. Which is, quite frankly, more a rule than a possibility.

I cannot do other than to miss her like crazy. I have seven dripping wet courtesans of pointy muzzles and bushy tails ready to drop onto knees and take my knot in any way I see fit, yet, both me and the forest spirits of my ancestors burn in passion for her, the vixen Marcella. I cannot simply see her as the descendant of the goddess Tanith, because she matches the goddess fox from the legends way too closely. And like her, she is of living flesh and fragile soul - caring and loyal, unlike most females I had the ill luck to tie with.

Her journey was a perilous one, spanning across several kingdoms and loneliness filled years, but if not for it, we would have never met. She had shared with me every heart shuddering hardship of her life, all the lows that had caused her to shed numerous vixen tears; but she was always as eager to lend her pointy ear to me and my own troubles.

We had nights during which we did nothing but cry in unison, the old pain too harsh for either of us to handle.

But that is as it is. That is the reason why I cannot take even a glance into her handwritten mementos on my own. What can I expect to find there, only for my old wounds to open in an act of forcing forgotten javelins back into my flesh? My old tribe's shaman would had disapproved of me; to leave something unattended is a call for rotten spirits. And he is right. Even if I had found everything I could seek in life, I do miss my old tribe sometimes, especially Akrimaratan. The good times before a new chief managed to overtake. To this day I shudder what he had done to our peaceful wolf tribe.

I shall only read her diary with her at my side, when she returns from her travels. It's the best for both of us, since with our future looking good for the first time in our lives, I'd want to have our past tamed. To give the shadows constantly licking at our heels rest...to give my beautiful Marcella the rest she deserves, so she can do what she does best. Make the Kingdoms a more love and caress filled place.

The day when I had met her is always in my dreams. Her voice, alluring and natural, and the image...oh, by my knot...the image of her bent against that tree, with that tail aloft and her vixenhood gleaming in the soft glows of that pine forest. Her scents had set me into a rut like no other, and when I rubbed myself against her, the perfectly cared for fur and loose lips brushing me on my way in, I had hilted myself to the knot, feeling more alive than ever on my hunts. Ironically, it was her hunting me that day, and she gave me a dream come true.

A brothel coming alive from fantasy, not a dangerous or a sleazy place, but one in which you'd find love, a pack of healthy, incredibly sexy vixens with claws sharp as their tongues are velvet, me, the wolf to look after them and cherish them, and one Marcella to keep us all free. My family.

We are who we are, and us wolves adhere to this perhaps stronger than any living creature of this world. And yet, I needed my vixen to show me who I am. Despite our wants do tend to swell to tragedies more often than not, this one carnal dream had worked out.

I love you, Marcella Gale.