FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Dim light and muffled echoes, and the creature asleep on my table. I sighed out deeply, luminescent eyes dull as the hanging, yellow lamp in my private, curtained dining room. Body sushi, for the fourth time this month.

The catch must have been higher quality, this time. My promotion several weeks ago meant I didn't notice the dent in my wallet, so I didn't even look at the bill anymore. I just looked at the mustelid that had been knocked out and left in a room with me, stripped bare and adorned with grape leaves heaped with balls of rice around or under raw fish and vegetables. Some were dotted or coated with tiny sunburst dots of roe, the Japanese caviar. Some were bright pink, others dominated by the verdant seaweed in them, others even glowing orange with mango. It was nearly ethereal in the ambient lighting.

Through the crimson, velvet curtain to my right came a wet, slurping sound accompanied by muffled gasps and cries, and I could see the silhouette of half a doe sinking into the wide maw of a hungry bear. I watched for a while, enjoying the show. She struggled, but he had already pinned her arms, and she was hardly half his girth, even as round as the thighs so delicately outlined in his throat seemed to be. He had probably been licking her clit while she woke up.

It sent a brief stirring through my ample loins, causing them to surge with gentle heat against the fine fabric of my charcoal slacks. I once wore jet black, but the paler color feels like it makes me broader when I spread my legs and lean on my elbows to grin at a client and explain why we won't be buying shit products from him. The roar my father's species is so well known for is better enhanced with jet black, yes - sharper, more direct, like the yowl of my mother - but softened by gray, it becomes a more surreal impetus to immediately leave or bow or both, and besides, I try to handle things before they get to that point. Roaring is animal, and petty. Albeit wildly exhilarating.

I let my eyes swing back to my meal and idly clicked my lacquered chopsticks together. There was a pot of sake simmering to my side, suspended over a single, hot coal, but I ignored that for now. His sushi-swathed chest beckoned to me, so I undid the top four buttons of my shirt, revealing a hard chest that was neither the barrel of a rhino nor the chiseled stones of an otter, and partook.

Salmon is a weakness for me. I delicately parted my chopsticks around the cushion of rice holding it, plucked it from a leaf loaded with a variety of other fish on his creamy, left pectoral, then dipped it in a bowl of specialty soy sauce that was seated over his navel. It dripped with the thin, rich broth and stained his low-sloping, slender, peach-colored, oil-glazed flank, and I purred as I placed it in my teeth and chewed slowly, savoring every moment. The rice was thick, gooey, and had a ghost of sweetness to it. The salmon was flush with flavor, completely raw and recently caught, from the faint, metallic tang left behind by fresh blood that lined the overall salty, meaty flavor. I swallowed luxuriously, and sighed again, feeling my groin stir again as the anticipation of doing the same to my dinner guest washed through me.

His breathing was so soft that I hardly believed he was still alive. An ebony contraption that covered the top of his nostrils and adorned his muzzle and forehead held a low concentration of chloroform, to keep him asleep without constricting his breathing too much. His head was balanced between two sweet loaves (ostensibly, of course - the truth was in the bowl-shaped indentation in the table that was deep enough to cradle his skull and shallow enough not to hide much of it from my view) and a small goblet had been included in the design of the half-muzzle that kept him unconscious, holding lychee berries bathed in sweet wine and topped with sakura blossoms.

He was truly a feast that was not meant to be enjoyed alone. But here I was. Again.

In very little time, a dozen of the expertly-rolled balls of sushi had vanished, and in that time, I had lost my jacket and the next few buttons of my shirt, revealing my ivory belly and portions of my mosaic, dappled and webbed flanks. The patterns were intricate and deceiving, as they faded to a more constant gold as they approached my back. It was a particular treasure each time someone new explored them. My eyes glazed as this thought made my loins yearn for release yet again. Those desires would be sated soon, though, so I kept my paws above the level of my waist.

Eel glazed in honey and a piquant spice was my next target, and I interspersed the sweetness with edamame that had been scattered around the edges of his orange hide. The eel had been propped on his slightly swollen middle, around the soy sauce, and I ate them in direction of the circle they made as I steadily unveiled my prize.

On top of his thighs lay a particular oddity, one I enjoyed immensely: beef sashimi. The thin, julienne slices of uncooked meat were arranged in symmetrical, overlapping lines, one on each supple thigh, in long grape leaves that held an expertly-portioned helping of some sort of teriyaki marinade, so that I could gradually make my way closer and closer to his groin. It was impossible to tell what waited underneath the great heap of food surrounding that portion of him, but I growled deep in my throat in anticipation of finding out and ponderously opened my thighs as I licked my lips after each succulent morsel that vanished into my gullet.

Little by little, as the leaves covering him lost their weight, I saw more and more of his chest and thighs. His soft, rounded hips in particular had been hidden by edible blossoms - violets were prevalent - and his groin had an elaborate sequence of different fish intended to be eaten in progression. I won't claim to know each one, but I know that I left it for almost last while I gorged, purring despite all claims my ancestry wouldn't allow it and enjoying the pleasant pain of pressure against my fly while to my left and right came the sounds of slurping, belching, and muffled cries for help that made my libido surge forth. I lost myself in the sensation of eating.

When I came to my senses, the deftly-tied seaweed strings that had been suspending gobs of tuna from his toes were gone; the yellowtail on his left pectoral was a memory recalled only by a sliver of flesh dropped on the leaves there; the remains of the edamame were scattered about; the candied flowers were gone except for those above his forehead; only a few larger medallions of rice and fish remained on what proved a surprisingly gifted hidden mound between his legs, one with mango and kiwi balanced on his throat, and the lychee berries beneath the remaining blossoms, drenched in the cup held in place over his head. I was nearly full, though I knew I would finish everything in front of me. But then...

He also came to his senses.

I gave a snort of surprise when his eyes snapped open and immediately moved to catch any falling pieces. They were beady, black, and beautiful, and flicked around in amnesiac confusion within the jet rings circling them in a field of white. His ears moved, also, displacing the juices that had filled them to the brim. I growled in disappointment. That was one of my favorite parts. Someone had failed to dole out his chloroform correctly. The tip was going to be minimal, tonight.

My mane was not quite the full, glorious bush of my father's kind, but when it flared out in anger like it had now, even its slightly dappled coloring brought with it a sense of immitigable command. "Why are you awake?" I murmured with dangerous softness.

He proved himself a quick thinker, and a tenor. "To pour your sake, sir." His fingers and toes clenched and unclenched as his wrists and ankles strained against bonds that had been made to look like seaweed strapping him underneath the table.

Intrigued, I leaned back and let my mind wander for a few moments, in no small part to renew the strain against my zipper. I rolled my considerable shoulders one at a time, shrugging off my shirt, and opened my button and fly with a prolonged sigh, not meeting his eyes with my tawny ones while the eye-boggling transitions of golden, brown, and cream colors from my belly to back were revealed. I wanted to see him grovel and serve, and he knew it. So he did.

"If you take the... soy sauce off and replace it with the pot and a cup, sir, I can show you. If you're displeased, I trust your creativity to punish me." His eyes flicked briefly to the hot coal still heating my sake near his head. My tail twitched. His was hidden underneath him and the table. Apparently no one had wanted to include it in the preparations. He knew how hot the sake was going to be, but he also knew he had precious few means by which to impress me into keeping him alive after I fucked him.

Meeting his gaze and idly pawing at my growing erection that was framed in outline through tight, black boxers, I leaned forward and took the bowl in my teeth, breathing out hot air underneath the leaves at his groin. He gasped quietly and I watched the rolls remaining rise slightly. I carefully set the bowl down on the table next to him. Now that I was no longer ravenous, I felt like I could be civil. Coolly, imposingly civil. So I fished my pink, growing cock out of my underwear and let it slap thickly against my thigh, knowing he would be able to smell the unleashed wave of musk and be unable to move and see its source, and shifted my pants down my hips.

Silently, I took my chopsticks and grasped the neck of the heavy pot of sake. I had spent enough time in Japan that chopsticks had become like extensions of my paw. The ceramic was not easy to move, but neither was it difficult. I placed in on his navel for a long second and watched his belly and chest ripple as he shivered and sucked in, trying to avoid the searing heat. I smirked, and murmured, "Where would you like this?" My other paw had begun slowly stroking my hard-on as it continued to make the slow transition from half-flaccid and cresting my navel to throbbing and nestling against my sternum, at least if it hadn't been draped over my thigh like waiting python. I raised the pot just slightly, growling deeply enough that it was more of a purr, so if he released his control on his abs even a little, he would touch it. He hissed as he did so, unavoidably, and whispered, "A few inches above my navel, sir. Cup on my navel, so I can pour."

"I'm going to devour you," I stated calmly in almost a growl as I acquiesced to his request. Each of his breaths was a shudder as he slowly adjusted to the heat that had already left a burn underneath his fur, but even though they shook, the vessels stayed upright, and he had not dared move his head - my lychee wine was very much intact. "I may force you to suck me off, first. I will choke you with my cock until you pass out, and then..." I trailed off as I watched him close his eyes, slowly raise his upper abs, and collapse his lower ones, tilting the pot of hot, fine wine until, somehow, he felt that it was pouring. His timing was immaculate. I watched, dumbstruck, as he poured my sake with his belly, and didn't spill a drop.

"Please continue, sir. Have I pleased you?" Good boy. Not even a hint of pride. His voice was steady for the most part, though his heartbeat made the leaves under his waist throb. He was excited. Based on the faint flush in his cheeks, the fact embarrassed him. It made me grin. I had no idea how old he was - honestly, with a species that never grows to be larger than the size of your owns' teenagers, it's hard to tell. Regardless he was... appetizing.

"Not as much as you will, morsel," I answered smoothly and automatically before snatching my cup, downing the contents, letting the fire swarm through my throat and insides, and replacing it. "Again." I didn't continue. I watched a creature who was certain I was about to kill him pour me sake. The crystalline flow and the heady scent mesmerized me for a short time, and I threw back a second shot when he finished. "Again." It was getting harder for him to pour, and as the alcohol suffused my body and senses - faster, from the heat, than other alcohols would - I felt my mind focus more and more on the process and on the coming pleasures. I was fully hard, now, and leaking precum against my chest, just from the thought and the sight of his sumptuous body. He overestimated the third time and the little cup overflowed, so I used the tongs to set the hot coal on the bed of leaves right over where I guessed his fuzzy little delicious balls would be, making every part of his body that could move tense up and twitch.

"Sir!"

"Pour my sake."

"Sir, please!"

"Pour my sake." He managed to satisfy himself with a gasping cry before a dangerous-seeming calm swept over his body. "Good boy." I smirked, then shook my head, trying to clear it. The thought crept into my mind, as it always did, that I wouldn't be able to enjoy him if I killed him, and I was enjoying this. I brushed it away. I always struggled with this, and it always ruined my appetite and forced me to take things to a different level.

His belly started to roll again, and I stopped him. "No." He froze, his eyes glazed with an attempt to be anywhere but here while the seaweed crinkled black under the coal. I stood and stripped off my boxers, letting gravity drop my engorged member to a healthy ninety degrees, where it sat, now within his vision, three inches broad and ten long, not tapering in the slightest, and instead sporting a broad, mushroom-like head. I put one knee on the table, then, confident in my strength, heaved the other over him and straddled his chest, chopsticks in hand. With my cockhead resting on his lips, I took my time first clearing off the remaining food near his loins before focusing on the treats that were left for my dessert. "Lick," I commanded in a growl.

He didn't hesitate. His ebon lips parted just barely and his pastel tongue slipped out to pass along my glans while I lifted the gold and green medallion from his throat and filled my maw with it, groaning with pleasure around the bright, citrus flavors. Salty precum rewarded his efforts, and he obediently lapped that up as well. The contraption on his nose impeded him not in the least as he carefully pleasured me, coaxing bead after bead of pre until it was flowing in a steady trickle.

I began feasting on the blossoms and lychee berries, savoring every diaphanous petal and every pop of the globular, sweet fruits, and paused to say, "Pour." He whispered, "Yes, sir," around my imposing cock head, only barely audible over my rumbling purr. I looked over my shoulder to watch, and while I was, remembered the coal. It had burned through the leaves under it, and when I casually swept them aside, I noticed quickly how swollen his balls were, and how red the skin underneath was, but also... how ready the cock that was poking my sake cup seemed to be. He was enjoying this.

I took the cup and drank, then replaced it and demanded again, "Again." It was a large pot - I had a few shots left, and I had a plan for one before it cooled down. He poured, and missed with some of it, but I took the cup anyway and held it in front of his eyes, while my other paw held a lychee berry in my chopsticks. "A reward, morsel. Open your mouth." He did as he was told, eyes unfocused. I put the berry on his tongue, then looked behind me, aimed, met his eyes, and pinched the red skin of his scrotum with my utensils. He thrust his chest up underneath me, surprising me with his strength as I was lifted slightly, and failed to suppress a groan that made me grin again. "Swallow when I pour." I used my wrist to push my cockhead in his maw and watched him use his tongue to let the berry fall to the back of his throat, then poured the hot sake down the length of my cock, hissing in pleasure as it trickled off my tip and flowed, flavored with my musk, across his tongue and the berry to his throat. He closed his lips tight around my flaring head and swallowed the load, berry and all, as I pinched harder and made him groan.

"Good boy..." I whispered, and released him, beginning to slowly hump his lips while I enjoyed what remained of my berries. The sensations of exotic food and erotic pleasures washed through me, flowing from the sparkling, burning sensation in my malehood as well as from the sugary, heady treats on my tongue and meeting in my belly as a whirlwind of hedonism. He suckled like a babe, using his teeth and lips in experimental combinations - he was no expert - while I bucked and moaned around every mouthful. I eventually knocked the wooden adornment aside so I could grip his face with my tremendous paws, and began stuffing more and more of myself into that greedy little maw, not content to see so much of myself untended. My balls churned against his throat, billiard balls that required attention. Since his arms were tied, I put the cup back on his navel and rolled them between my fingers, letting the wet noises of his suckling drive me to greater speeds, especially now that he could breathe better through his nose. His little maw was tight and hot and he was a good boy who kept his teeth out of my way.

"Pour." He made a muffled sound. Frustrated, I swung myself around to the other side, making him gag as I haphazardly repositioned myself. "It's too-!" he gasped before I plugged his lips again, tilting his chin up to straighten my entrance. My balls rested against his forehead, now, and blocked his vision as I leaned over him and graciously fed him my cock, inch after inch vanishing and then shoving against and into the tight sphincter of his throat. "Pour, morsel," I demanded, roughly switching the vessels' positions to give him a better chance, and watched in awe as he again succeeded, though not without spilling some due to my motions. His cock was throbbing with need while I punished him. It leaked - there was a small pool of his fluids around the ceramic. I slammed the sake down my throat with the same grunt that forced me down his, feeling the fires in my loins reaching a peak, then set the pot down on the burner, knowing there was only one shot left and wanting it as hot as it could be. A few ample, throat-bulging thrusts later, while his muscles desperately worked my length in futile attempts to either swallow it or spit it out, I pulled out so he could splutter and gasp, stroked myself hard and fast, then forced his jaws open with my fingers, ignoring his weak protest, and rammed in once... twice... thrice... four times, and FIVE as I drained the pot of the last of my sake and pumped his stomach with my feline cream, blast after blast bulging his throat while I grunted and yowled in possessive triumph. "FUCK that's good!" I snarled. The electric fire roared through my being for a full minute. His struggles reached a peak while he choked on my cock and his began to spasm and spurt wildly, spraying his chest in a liberal splatter of cum, until he started to go limp and twitch. I outrode his orgasm with mine, thrusting furiously with each blast before pulling out halfway, then fully, letting my spent piece throb on his chest while I teabagged his sore, swollen, drooling jaw. The breath against my balls told me he was still alive and I sighed out in a rush of air. Such a relief, after waiting so long.

I dismounted and brushed away any debris still covering him, wanting to see my dinner completely bare, then sat in my chair at ease, once again adopting a more civilized air as I recovered from my lust. That's not to say I was finished - my cock throbbed between my legs in anticipation of the next round, and was already swelling back to full health. But it was time for a break, because I wanted him awake for this next part. Once I had sat, I sagged against the cushioned seat I had been given, thighs spread wide and lazy, arms draped to my side, massive member leaning on my leg - I was the picture of indulgence.

It did, in fact, occur to me that if I ate this morsel, as I so badly wanted to, I would no longer have him to play with. But if I let him go, I wouldn't be able to eat him. Those seem like such simple, obvious statements, but the fact was that I still wanted to ride his firm, pudgy rear, tie him in silk, collar him, and hear him call me "Master." I wanted to have this same experience again. I wanted to brand him as mine, then dress him exotically and put my trophy on display. I would eat him eventually, of course, once the Stockholm syndrome had taken full effect - there is no greater sense of dominance and pride than in nourishing yourself with your lessers' very bodies - but for a while, maybe a few months... I wanted this pet. Like I had wanted the others.

A note slipped under the door, and broke my concentration completely. I retrieved it with my toe, mildly irritated, lifted it, and opened it. It had been faintly scented, and was written in fine ink on thin parchment paper embossed with delicate, floral designs. "My colleague detects your indecision. The usual solution is described below. Thank you for your time." It was signed in deep, purple ink, but the signature was nigh illegible in the script she had used. My eyes scanned the rest of the note and the intricate, stylized mandala at the bottom of it. Then, I tore it up and tossed it on the stand that had held the coal, crisping the delicate paper and making the ink in the mandala seem to radiate as it was immolated. They offered this every time, and every time, I just burned it again. I'm not sure why they even asked anymore.

My dinner stirred, and I stood, to look him in the eyes. "I'm going to eat you, morsel. Enjoy it, if you can."

Edible finger and toe caps had been left on a plate nearby, to prevent the meals from clawing their diners on the way down, and I snapped these on him, deft now after nearly getting myself sliced open once before. He struggled, having given up on trying to woo me. "I'll bite you," he mumbled, and coughed up my seed.

"I'll muzzle you." I stood near his head and stroked myself, paw hardly able to wrap around my member while I grinned gently down at him, purring again.

"I can serve you better alive than dead."

"That's a matter of opinion." I licked my lips, gazing at his length and imagining how it was going to feel sliding down my throat. My member pulsed fat and almost ready.

He couldn't help but to eye it, and flicked his tongue out to wet his lips. "I'll be your slave. Your pet. I know how to set myself up like this again. I'll- I'll let you fuck me. As though I'd be able to stop you!" he gasped, panic setting in. My cock throbbed harder.

I basked in his desperation and tossed my mane. "Oh, god, why haven't I let one of you wake up before?" I walked slowly around him, meeting his eyes while he babbled, and tossed my cock on his, idly bucking my hips across it. He flexed in response. The sake had clouded my judgment, happily, so concerns over his life didn't pester me, and since he had likely not been fed, his single taste of it was making him susceptible to even mild pleasures. "Go on."

"You know I'm better than any other one you've had! Master! Master, let me serve you." He squirmed where he lay, eyes flashing.

"Ooh, say that again," I purred, again straddling his hips and now beginning to thrust unforgivingly against his smaller cock, dwarfing it with my length while his seed and saliva lubricated the way.

Something clicked. He calmed down. "Master, I want nothing more than to be yours, and serve you, and one day feed you." He shuddered.

I pretended to think about it, then tugged roughly at his burnt sac with one paw and thrust again, making him cry out and arch up against me. "Ooooh, no, but I want you now, little morsel." My pre was running freely again by this point while I humped his groin, smearing his seed into his belly fur.

He writhed and gasped, but kept his voice calm. "Nnn... fuck me, sir. Fuck me and tell me you don't want to own me."

"I don't normally take commands from my inferiors, but I don't see why not." I spread his ass cheeks with my thumbs, looking down at the tiny virgin hole there, lubed up one finger with his seed, and shoved it inside. Oh, and he was a virgin, from the way he shivered and groaned! I thrust hard, swirling my finger as I lubed him up, then pumped my cock a few times with my paw and pushed it against that tight pucker. The head slipped in, and he shouted.

"Sir!" He choked around the next word, forcing it out and making me laugh as I grunted and rammed in another inch or two. "Yes! Fuck me!" His swelling cock twitched as I happily obliged, hunching over him a little strangely due to his bonds, but slowly coming down to a seating position as I bucked and fucked him, each thrust ramming more of my length home until it was bulging out his navel. His tight passage massaged me, hot waves of pleasure bursting through my groin while he clenched and moaned around the pain of a first impalement.

"Tell me you want this!" I snapped at him, riding him hard on that table. I dug my claws into his throat.

"Yes!" he yelled, tears brimming in his eyes, chest arched painfully up against his bonds. "Every day! Every fucking day, sir!"

"Beg for it!"

"Deeper!" he pleaded, while I bruised his shoulders and cut into his skin, thrusting wildly as my peak approached like a nearing thunderhead. I felt it like a spark in a dark room and breathed in the musk, the sweet, the wine, the fuzzy numbness in my skull.

"Tell me you want to be mine!" I roared, my thrusts becoming harder and longer as I felt it arising.

For a moment he could only choke and gasp, until in the midst of his second orgasm that night, he whimpered, "I'm yours, sir. Forever."

I hung there, in that moment, and my face softened. I knew I had a choice. I knew I had two seconds to make that choice. I could take pity on the tear-stained, desperate face before me, and learn what was driving him so hard to live... or I could become a devil, and drink in his defeated voice. Each thrust as I hung on that edge came too fast, and too slow, and the fires and shocks of pleasure that raced through my loins were their own special torture.

I made a decision. My face broke into a grin and I growled, "Yes, you are," before slamming my hips home one more time and digging my teeth into his throat, tasting the sweet cocktail of blood and iron while I unleashed my pride into him. He was limp, and he was broken, and he was mine.

I pulled out, releasing a small flow of blood and semen, and dismounted, watching him flop like a used toy. My belly growled, hungry from the workout, and I licked my lips as I looked at his toes. I undid his bonds and tossed him over my shoulder, then paused with one paw on the table, about to flip it out of my way. "Oh..." A modicum of civility returned, and I carefully set the sake holder aside before remembering how hungry I was, dumping the rest onto a seat, and moving the table so I could toss my prey on his chest on the floor and admire his abused rear while I stuffed his feet into my maw.

Mmmm... the glaze they used this time was breath-taking. I suckled, licked, gulped, and swallowed so quickly that I had his calves in my throat before I knew what I was doing. It was too much to resist, though. I knelt there behind him and tugged on his hips to slip more of him into my waiting gullet, then frowned and bit down. He twitched, and a surge of new desperation washed through him in a wave I could feel. With a happy growl, I pinned his arms to his side and gulped again, now lapping his thighs with my rough tongue while they rolled and twisted and thrashed within me, confined by my powerful throat.

"No..." he moaned, writhing against the ground. "Please..." His begging and the heavenly taste had me throbbing for the third time that night. I impatiently crammed his hands into my maw and held them down with my teeth while my tongue rasped his sore balls, and started jacking myself off. My eyes were closed with pleasure while my tongue roamed his beaten rear, tasting that heady, copper fluid mixed ravishingly with my own seed. I only had to snatch and trap one arm a second time when it got loose, but once I had gulped his hips into my gullet, he still hadn't given up.

While one paw stroked my reawakening member hard and fast, the other rubbed my distended throat, massaging his cock. I could feel the outline of it both inside and outside, and swallowed hard to fit even more of him down while his legs slipped and folded in my gut. He was small enough to just barely fit in there, and I yearned for the full, almost uncomfortable sensation of him bulging out my stomach and chest. And oh, God, the flavor, just... they had made it richer, somehow, as it got higher up his body, and my mouth was alive with it. Everything here... everything here was mine, and for me.

"No!" he demanded louder, his movements getting weaker as he tired out, and then stronger again as he would regain his determination. I would have chuckled if I could have, but instead just grinned and heaved myself up to sit on my heels and start letting gravity help me out while I continued pleasuring myself. His voice cracked. "Don't!" It shuddered. "Please! Let me out! Let me live! I'm begging you! Sir! I'll be yours!" And it broke. "You can have me, you can taste me, you can fuck me, love me, beat me, I don't care, just let me li-!"

I shut his maw with a muzzle, clamping my paw around his nose and mouth as I shoved that last part in. My teeth clicked and I felt his muffled cries as I swallowed again a few times, hard, damning him to my gut, where his legs would already be tingling, then burning with digestive fluids. He was forced to curl up, but tried to press, making my belly writhe and squirm. I leaned back, still stroking myself while he moved desperately, starting to choke. I swallowed air, which he gasped at desperately. I moaned at the sensation, paw moving faster and faster as his thrashing reached its peak, until I yowled yet again and spattered my belly liberally with spunk, one shot flying up to strike my cheek. My abs clenched down on him, fighting his struggles as his consciousness dimmed and began to flee.

"Alright then," I said calmly. The spark flared, and he stopped, stunned into stillness. "I will. I was given the means to - trust me, and sleep." He had no way of knowing if it was the truth or a lie, of course, but it got him to quiet down. I loved that moment - it felt good. "I swear," I murmured gently to him, purring with the brilliant content of afterglow and feeling his submission to hope.

I sighed, letting my cock flop, spent, on my thigh, and drip the last milky drops onto the floor. Someone would have cleaning to do, in here... Rubbing my still belly idly, my gaze fell on the rice paper and the violet ink on it. It was half-burned, but the mandala remained. I shrugged, and sat back against my chair to relax.

Maybe half an hour later, I realized I had been dozing, so I got up, cleaned myself with some damp towels that had "miraculously" appeared by my side, and clothed myself, sighing as I had to again cover up my lustrous hide. The shirt and jacket naturally did not close around my distended gut, so at least they could hang loose as I wrote a check, then strode outside into the open air to go home again, alone. But a small smirk lit my lips. Not quite alone. And if this was the fourth time, there would be a fifth, and a sixth, and on and on...

A white-furred waiter's eyes half-lidded in professional curiosity as he knelt to retrieve a torn, blackened sheet of rice paper from the floor. Much of it fell away the moment he touched it, but a scoured, flower-shaped symbol remained. He narrowed his eyes further and folded it in a napkin to study later. Four times that feline had received their offer, and four times he had charred it and left it for them. What kind of person was he...?