THREE

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The thing I’ve most come to regret about the work I do is how it reduced sex to just another task, something routine. The women I serviced came from many walks of life, from tradeswomen through artisans and even a few examples of minor nobility. They had many body types, some almost masculine, some so lushly female that it was almost daunting. But to some extent, all the faces and bodies blended together.

Angelique was somewhat more distinct in that regard, if only because I saw some snippets of her life, and to some extent, she was working to keep me happy, not only the other way around. It was almost relaxing – exhausting, but in such a satisfying manner that it felt good.

The days rolled by into weeks. My eighteenth birthday passed by, and a few weeks later came the first snows of November. Then someone came in who truly caught my eye.

She was tall for a woman, only about a head shorter than myself, and even more slender than most, but that wasn’t the most distinct thing about her. Instead of the usual black-tipped cream fur, sable mask around the eyes, and dark fur around the hands, feet, and tip of the tail, she was a pure, unspoiled white from one end to the other, shown to good effect by a sapphire-blue gown. Her eyes were the usual dark brown, and against the backdrop of that pale fur, seemed almost black in contrast. Around her neck was a silver necklace shining with jewels, and she stood with great poise and confidence.

The game of dice paused, and Marcus, the man on my left, nudged my ribs with his elbow. “Must be a Royal,” he hissed into my ear. “That fur, that dress, that necklace… don’t see her like in here very often.”

“Could mean something big, getting her eye,” said Josef, on my right. “Winning the favour of the royal family? An easy ticket to an easier life, that.”

The last member of our game, Karl, grinned and set down his dice, leaning back to get a better look at her past my shoulder. He said nothing; he just let his gaze linger on her, and let his pose radiate confidence and poise that I could only dream of.

As he was the oldest of us, and thus the most experienced, that was hardly surprising. Of course he could be confident; any woman who chose him, he could satisfy. He knew it, and after one look at him, so did they.

Marcus and Josef looked her over as well, smiling, confident in themselves, doing their best to look attractive, handsome, appealing. With the game thus abandoned, I gave up and turned my chair around to get a better look of my own.

She was confident, yes, but there was something beyond that in her eyes; something daunting. This was a woman who was not only used to the deference and respect due a woman, not even just that due a woman of station. This was someone who was used to giving an instruction and having it done, quickly and well. A woman who was used to results.

That was rather intimidating, really. I was a youth of a mere eighteen summers; what could I know about pleasing one such as she? All I could do was take advantage of her presence while I could; study the way she walked, the way she carried herself, and do my best to remember it as a sign of confidence. If I could reproduce a look that was even half so self-assured, I would count myself lucky.

She spoke some more to the man at the desk, and she slid a small purse of money over to him; and then she sauntered toward our table. I heard breaths draw in on either side of me as she looked us over. Marcus let out a sift sigh as she slid a hand along his jaw, tilting his chin upward, peering into his eyes. For a moment I was sure she was going to choose him.

But then she let go, moved on. Marcus slumped in his seat, letting out the rest of his breath, but he kept his attention on her, ever hopeful.

She gave a similar treatment to Karl, but even he was left behind; and as she moved on, I could see, though he could not, that there was a glimmer of dissatisfaction in her eyes. No, she wasn’t merely getting a look at all of us to decide later; she had already decided that she did not want him, at least.

Josef held his ground under her attentions, staying still as a rock, sitting proud and upright; he, too, was left behind, though she didn’t seem decided on him just yet.

And then she stood in front of me.

I swallowed hard, feeling that finger slide along my jaw. I didn’t know what to do; didn’t know how to carry myself, even how to breathe. Yet as her fingers slid a bit lower, nearer my throat, some part of me sensed… affection? An overture toward it, at least. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, nuzzling at her wrist.

Her hand turned over, fingers pressing behind my ears, claws grazing over the skin. “You’ll do,” she said, her voice soft, but with such certainty in her tone that the same sort of confidence still showed through.

Two years had given me the right reflex to respond to that; I scrambled up to my feet. “Th-this way, then,” I managed to say, gesturing toward the stairs. She waved me ahead of her, and so I obliged and took the lead, conscious of the stares of my fellows on my back.

It wasn’t until I’d ushered her into my room and closed the door that I had the nerve to say anything further. “Forgive me for asking, but… why me?”

“First, you’re simply appealing. Second, because you weren’t so full of yourself as some,” she replied, wandering about the small room, leaning over to sniff over the bowl of as-yet-unlit incense, taking in all its details. “Finally, because you’re the first hired man I’ve encountered this year who dared to show me some affectionate contact on first meeting.” She came back to me, reaching up to slide an arm around my neck. “I have enough formality in my life as it is.”

“I can imagine that,” I admitted, sliding an arm around her in turn. She felt nice against me like that; there was no need to hurry if she didn’t want to, not as far as I was concerned. “I’m sorry for not knowing you by sight. My fellows told me that you’re…” How did I put it without sounding totally ignorant?

Luckily for me, she took the matter out of my hands. “I’m one of Princess Allyria’s cousins, yes. My name is Rebecca. I’m not anywhere near in line for the succession, don’t worry; I have my needs…” Grinning widely, she tugged my head down to brush her lips against mine. “Just like anybody else. Just like any other woman you’ve met, and just… like… you.”

“You don’t need to convince me of that,” I sighed, and couldn’t help but shiver a little. With that hint given, I brought my hands around, tugging at the cords that held her dress in place. “I’m here to serve, after all.”

“So you are. Much more directly and personally than many of those who get more credit for it.” She brought her hands down in turn, pulling at my shirt laces to loosen them.

We shed our clothing in what felt like an amazingly short time, but then we lingered. Specifically, she asked me to hold still, so she could get a little more familiar with me, and that she did with her hands and her muzzle, the former roaming all over my back, my sides, and my rump, while the latter stirred about my chest, nosing through my fur, her lips closing around a nipple, giving it a light tug, then a bit firmer of one with her teeth.

Nobody had done that since Thomas. I shivered; the groan that slid out of my muzzle and over her ears needed no artifice in the least. I let my hands wander in turn, feeling the shape of her under that lush fur. Though slender, she was quite firm – athletic; wiry and muscular, yet still sleek, flexible, and very much womanlike. She sank a little lower, her back sliding past my fingers until I could only grip her shoulders, her breath warm on my stomach. One of her hands rested on my hip, leaning on me a little; the other slid in between my thighs, cupping under my balls, and she turned her head downward, her breath washing through my fur, caressing my rising member.

She slid her lips around it, her tongue bathing the head of my manhood, coaxing it to full and eager attention. Then she drew it in still further, lapping at it all the way as her head bobbed along my shaft, suckling, almost nursing upon me. After a minute or two of my groaning, clutching at her shoulders, and rocking into her attentions, she lifted off with a soft, moist pop, curling the hand that had cradled my pouch around my shaft instead, stroking along the now-slick skin.

“You’re young,” she breathed, “and I’ve paid for the rest of the day if need be. Perhaps I could get two rounds out of you, hmmm? Most men I’ve met have been so serious about it, always wanting to get to the ‘real’ business, to slide into me, bring me my pleasure, and have done, but you…” Her fingertips danced around the rim of my lower head, tapping the slit on its crown. “You seem to know how to have a little more fun than that, yes? How to enjoy it, instead of just doing the job and moving on…” And then her mouth slid onto my piece again, and it didn’t stop until her nose was against my hip.

With that sort of encouragement, I wasn’t going to last terribly long no matter how hard I tried to endure. But she didn’t leave it at that; she kept going, for one, her tongue sliding all over my naked flesh, but she also kept her hands busy, the one stroking over my balls, the other… the other slid under my tail, two fingers stiffening, pressing against me… sliding into me.

I hadn’t had any attention back there in years; I yelped, squirming, not sure whether to thrust into her muzzle or to push back onto those intruding digits. Fortunately for me, she interpreted my utterance exactly as it warranted; her head quickened, her fingers pushed in deeper, slipping in and out of me, seeking inside for those sensitive places. And before two minutes had passed, I felt a surge of pleasure race through me, feeling my seed rushing down my shaft, coursing over her tongue.

Not a drop escaped me but that she swallowed it down; none of it slipped past her lips to mar her fur. She kept her mouth in place until she’d drawn the last drop out of me, and then she stayed there still, lapping at my aching flesh, catching every trace of my semen that might have escaped. Only when she was satisfied that I had no more to offer did she finally lift off, sighing over my shaft and my thigh, her fingers drawing flee.

“I haven’t known a man who gave himself so thoroughly to that in far too long,” she sighed, caressing my thigh and smiling up at me. “I was starting to despair of ever again meeting a man who wasn’t so concerned with me that he completely forgot that I might enjoy his enjoyment, too.”

“I enjoy my work partly because it makes others happy,” I mused, making my way to the bed, “so I think I can grasp that.” I reached out my hand; laughing, she took it and let me draw her onto the bed with me.

The smell of her was intoxicating, but with my immediate urgency slaked for the moment, it wasn’t so hard to keep myself confined to taking my time, exploring her from one end to the other. She enjoyed a gentle touch, and I obliged her, though I did try kneading along her spine. She seemed to like that, too, at least as a contrast from the gentler touches I used overall.

By the time my fingers slid between her thighs and into her, my manhood was already prepared for another performance. But I ignored it for the time being; I stroked her, felt inside her, caressed the lips of her sex. Her muzzle worked against mine, tongue stroking over my lips, her breath washing hot and quick over my whiskers.

She shivered atop me, a faint whimper slipping over my jaw, her legs squeezing in against mine, hips rolling, pressing down into my touch, her tail flicking and darting behind her. Still I kept fingering her, my touch moving inside and out. It wasn’t a very familiar task to me; never before had I really been expected to do it longer than was necessary to get a woman’s body ready to receive my manhood. Fingers weren’t enough for what I needed to do, or men might not have been necessary at all; by the time she left, I would need to come inside her. For the time being, though… why not? As she’d said, we had the entire day.

So I let my fingers explore, not only getting a feel for her body, but also for what manner of touch she enjoyed. Deep or shallow, soft or firm… it was hard to tell, truth be told; every manner of touch seemed to carry its own brand of enjoyment. I was almost surprised that the sounds and motions of her pleasure didn’t drive me to climax in turn, but… it didn’t, so there was more to look forward to yet.

At least five different times she shuddered atop me, squeaking or yelping or moaning, clenching around my hand, before she finally pressed her hands down against my chest, rising up over me. “Enough,” she growled, grinding her hips down toward mine. “However nice it is that you’re being thorough, there’s more from you that I want, and I want it now.”

“It’s yours to take, of course,” I said with a smile, but obediently drew my fingers out of her. With that hand I instead took hold of my very ready length; with the other I gripped her thigh, guiding her down toward me’. Not that she needed any such assistance; I had little doubt that she was much better at such matters than I myself.

As thoroughly ready as she was, she slid onto me without a moment’s hesitation. One stroke – from head to hip, she was all the way on me. And then I took over; I wrapped my arms around her and rolled to one side, tumbling with her, winding up atop her. She grinned up at me, giving a quick nod, as I moved my hands to grip the sheets.

And then I started driving into her as I scarcely ever had done before. Hard enough to feel the impact with each stroke, to feel my bones rattling from the force of it. Fast enough that I scarcely had time to feel one stroke before it was time to plunge into her again. All the need that had built up in both of us while I fingered her, we indulged to the fullest. Even when I felt the delicious pressure of my climax inside her, I didn’t stop, nor did my manhood subside; it and I kept going, kept hammering into her. Her hands roamed all over my body, raking but not piercing my skin, her moans mingling with mine between our frantic breathes.

The next climax that raced through me, there was no denying. I don’t think I’d ever felt its like, and strong as it was, it seized my full attention. I pressed down against Rebecca, keeping myself in deep as my member bucked in the tight grip of her sex, my hot seed gushing into her, jet after fierce jet.

As the force of my pleasure waned, it was all I could do to keep myself balanced over her instead of sinking right down atop her, as I struggled to catch my breath. Her hand at the small of my back kept me from drawing out as I usually did; she turned sideways somewhat, and, once I’d got the notion a few seconds later, I turned with her, easing onto my side, still inside her. We didn’t say a word; we just lay together, breathing hard at first, growing measure by measure closer to normalcy with each passing minute.

It wasn’t until my spent and aching manhood had gone entirely soft that she stirred, crooning softly, pulling off of it to brush her lips against mine. “That was a delight,” she murmured against my jaw. “What’s your name, handsome man?”

“Edmond,” I replied automatically’. “Edmond Larson.”

“I could quickly get used to you, Edmond,” said she, pressing a hand against my cheek. “I’ve not felt this thoroughly relaxed in half a year, and with how much tension I was feeling before coming here, that is saying a great deal indeed. It’s so nice to be with someone who lets it feel natural, not studied.”

“You’re worth it,” was the first thing that came to my mouth. “You’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t I so enjoy being with you?”

She chuckled, setting a finger against my nose as she drew back away from me. “You’re very sweet, but you sell yourself short. You’re appealing to the eye yourself, you know. Truly a fine model of male beauty.”

I felt my ears heat, flicking back. So many of the men I’d seen around me in the past few years were themselves appealing that I’d felt plain in comparison.

Perhaps she read my expression; she paused to look at me, cupping her hand under my jaw. “It’s possible that you might understand this… you’ve seen some women, perhaps, that were… more slender than most, and heavier about the chest?”

My ears flicked back of their own accord. Yes, I’d seen such women, and they’d felt… somewhat off. Not so much as to make it difficult to perform, but somewhat off all the same. I nodded.

“Both of those are thought of as beautiful in women. What did you think?”

“It was… too much,” I admitted. “You’re more… balanced than they are.”

She leaned in to plant a whiskery kiss on my nose, and then she drew away, reaching for her necklace where she’d left it on the end table, tucking it around her neck. “Just so.”

I let that run through my mind, nodding slowly in the meantime.

She pressed me into assisting with her dress. I’m not sure how useful I actually was; I’ve helped remove clothing often enough, but putting it back on was another matter entirely. I’m sure my hands lingered a little longer than they needed, partly for that reason and partly, well, because she felt good to have my hands upon.

She laughed, twisting around to nudge her nose against my shoulder. “You do know how to make a woman feel appreciated. Whether it’s your waking mind that knows, or something deeper. I’ll be greatly interested in your progress, that’s certain.”

Just as she was about to go, she paused, slipping a ring off her finger. A gold ring, one side of it flattened and bearing an emblem of a diving bird, talons outstretched. “If you find yourself in need…”

At first I intended to wait for her to finish speaking, but when she trailed off into a few seconds of silence, I felt compelled to fill it. “What might I need that isn’t provided for me here?”

She shrugged. “That I couldn’t say. But it’s the unexpected needs that can prove most dire. Can you get sealing wax? And – forgive me – write, for that matter?”

“Both, yes,” I assured her. The question was not unfair; not all of my fellows could read or write, some of them coming from still-poorer homes and families than the one I’d lost. I was hardly a man of letters, but I could at least make myself understood.

“Then if you can send a message to Weston House, sealed in blue wax with that ring, I will know it’s meant for me, and will offer what help I can.”

Me? Send a message to a palace? Even if it wasn’t the one occupied by the actual Queen and King, the prospect still seemed absurd.

But if nothing else, it was a gift. I closed my hand around it. “I’ll keep it safe,” I promised.

“I don’t doubt that. Keep yourself well, Edmond,” she prayed, and stretched up onto her toes to plant one more kiss on my lips before she departed, a wisp of spicy perfume lingering in her wake.

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