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Clothing. Such a bother when a being, blessed by Goddess, is in peak physical form. Hewn by Her own hand, and covered head-to-paw in luminous silky fur that grew without kink nor mat, a being had no worries about clothing. So long as justice reigned supreme in the land of Jahaliya, so did Goddess bless their land and them, Her denizens.

This balance in Jahaliya rested on Prince Ryoga Miscon's wide shoulders, and he served his land with a sure confidence. He did so under his parents, King Gohrig and Queen Malva, who in their growing faith of their virile son's impressive talents placed more and more responsibility on the silver and alabaster brow of Prince Ryoga Miscon and his two princesses. This burden Ryoga took willingly, and the more they piled on, the taller he seemed to stand, and the louder his parents praised Goddess for a man so passionate, strong, and virile. He took it all on with a frolicsome twinkle in his eye.

The prince sat alone in his den with an untouched snifter of Jahaliyan Crème Wisk over a desk rife with correspondences. One paw held his silver and alabaster head aloft; the other coursed over a frayed cape laid in his otherwise naked lap, stroking the rough fabric. His wife's servant, a fennec femme named Sapphire, came in once to check on him, who was soundly fucked over Ryoga's paper-strewn desk and then sent dripping on her way.

Perslamus Silk...it was one of the few luxuries not afforded his people in Jahaliya. It was one of the softest, strongest, and most luxuriant fabrics known to any fur--in their land or in others. Even their own Jahaliyan pelts, blessed by Goddess softness, would feel like dry grass in comparison. And Ryoga's people deserved Perslamus Silk. He, Prince Miscon of Jahaliya, deserved it. The only problem, he later reflected as his wives suckled on his thick lupine cock and massaged his heavy sac, still wet from the fennec fox's femme nectar, was that it was only accessible from the nearby land of Perslamus, a kingdom oppressed by a culture rumored for its wanton cruelties, violent excesses, and stalwart enforcement of harsh religious laws.

Perslamus was a land of sloth and subjugation, a malicious and lazy kingdom built on the backs of slaves and women. Such was its religion, too, passed down from fat, piggish king to drunk, ignorant king. Their minds were as clouded as the cupfuls of liquor they threw down their greasy throats.

"Could I justify the support of such a harsh land, even if by trade?" he asked his panther aide Lydra as he lay her down on a chaise lounge and thrust into her wet folds, her legs thrown over his shoulders. Lydra hummed her acknowledgement to Ryoga's quandary as he passionately tongued her stiff nipple, panting into her breast.

Days passed, a conclusive answer eluding the prince. Then, as if an answer by Goddess Herself, Ryoga received a trade petition straight from Perslamus, sealed in a gold foil envelope and tied with a ribbon made of the land's legendary silk. It was hand-delivered by a nervous Perslaman fennec boy, who badly blushed and balked at the respectable diplomat wolf. Despite the blatant and rapid tenting of his baggy Perslaman silk pants, the boy had to stand with poise and at attention before royalty, arousal spotting his uniform.

Such poise was a vaunted challenge for the young boy, as he had delivered the letter while Ryoga was soundly knotted within the rump of his Harem skunk, Tina. She was no less occupied herself licking the fluffy chunks of a Jahaliyan crème pie out from between Natasha's breasts while the skunk played ruthlessly, passionately with Natasha's clit to the Mistress of the Bow's delight.

"Boy, you do a good service," the prince congratulated the blushing, trembling fennec as his eyes glazed over, he dumping seed deep into Tina's rump. "And with great poise under the circumstances! What's your name and occupation? Speak up!"

The fennec opened his mouth, his paws tightly knotted behind his back, but was quickly overshadowed by Natasha, whose thighs ran wet as her cunny clenched with orgasm.

"I, I, I'm just a librarian!" he cried, then ran from the room, his arms bent like a dinosaur's to keep his paws away from his crotch.

"Quite the diplomatic trooper," Ryoga said, untying himself from his sexy skunk Harem slut. His seed poured from under her tail, coating her thighs and pussy. The envelope was still in his paw as he dismounted from the entangled femmes, and he opened it while he paced, his cum-smeared erection bobbing in front of him.

"Impressive how brave and professional his presentation was, considering his background. Perhaps I should have met with him alone? No; perish the thought! To them we're a foreign land with foreign customs; he needs the practice," he said with a grand sweep of his paw, bringing his eyes down to the opened letter.

He burst into laughter.

"They want Jahaliyan Cream!" he chortled as he strode about his den, passing a roaring fireplace. "They may as well ask for bales of grass, or sticks fallen off our trees!" With the one paw that held the trade petition covering his laughing eyes, the wolf took a poker in his other and stoked the fire.

They wanted Jahaliyan Cream--and would trade anything for it. This substance was the basis for all the kingdom's indulgent and fluffy pastry and cake desserts, and in due thanks to the Goddess it was produced by their cows in abundance. The problem was, however, was that they wanted it: Perslamus. King Unctuo. That cruel, violent land and drunk, ignorant king.

"But at what cost?" Ryoga later exclaimed, alone as he balanced his Crème snifter atop a bothersome erection and rimmed the glass with the finger of his free paw. He had to please his Goddess, which would be especially problematic were he to commune with such brutes. Even if it were just for trade. He resolved to summon two more of his Harem mistresses, satisfy them both, and turn in for an early night. He was feeling frisky, but he couldn't be up all night on some rampant orgy.

That next morning, he went over diplomatic law with his mother whilst straddled over his wife Robin's chest, thrusting in between her voluptuous breasts while discussing with his Queen how this trade with Perslamus could affect Jahaliya's reputation with other lands, with the Goddess. Despite the delightful and salacious play at paw, and even though her nethers had grown moist with appreciation, the Queen's face grew very serious.

The Queen stonily tapped her claws against her nose, her lips drawn tight against her teeth.

"This is all for the rich, luxuriant cloth of the Northland of Perslamus? It is out of the question. I would not trade an entire kingdom for the dismay of the Goddess."

"Perslamus Silk is the most premium fabric in the closest seven lands, mother!" Ryoga protested as he sprayed Robin's chin and chest with heavy ropes of cum, groaning as she rubbed his cock between her messy breasts. "Oh, Robin; that was fantastic... Mother, the Goddess Herself should understand how tempting this offer is! And all they want is Jahaliyan Cream, which our cows make by the vat. It's practically theft to give them something so cheap for that beautiful fabric."

"These cows only produce that cream because of Goddess' Blessing, Ryoga. You are giving it to glorified religious bullies and scoundrels. And, my son, let us not forget how famous you have become to the other kingdoms. Shan't I remind you of the attempts on your life? This trade will make us appear opportunistic, and Goddess save us should that _insipre_other lands. Perish the thought.

"Our cows, when slaughtered, make the finest leather. Our sheep, when shorn, the softest cotton. We can do without this 'perfect' fabric. I could neither stand to lose the Blessing nor you were we to commune with those slothful heathens," she said with a bat of her paw, and then settled back in her throne and smiled, putting her foot up on the gilded armrest.

She snapped her fingers at a distant, young, virile chamber-fox, summoning him over.

"And, like that word you so confidently reclaimed last year for Jahaliya's good satisfaction, that delightful term 'slut,' you know I would not use the word 'heathen' in a negative fashion unless it were against such...fools, who did not conduct themselves to the Goddess's liking."

"The Harem will protect him!" Robin protested, wiping the white spunk from her dark lupine jaw. The Queen smiled down at the supine lupine, murring quietly as the fox chamber-boy knelt before her and began lapping at her moistened velvety folds.

"My dear," Malva said with a lustful snarl, "It's not whether we bring war upon them, it's whether such violence would be sanctioned; and I do not sanction it."

As the chamber-fox lusted himself between the Queen's thighs, Ryoga stood from his wife, brushing spunk from his silver and alabaster groin.

"There has to be a way, mother," the wolf prince said as he reaffixed his worn cape, "don't you trust my diplomacy?"

"I do," Malva said as she leaned forward in her seat, putting a paw against the back of the fox's head and thrusting it into her moist cunny. He squealed with delight, muffled by her femmesex. "And that is why you can provide your Parents further incentive. Please the Goddess, and we shall be pleased."

Another chamber-boy, this one a sheer black skunk, emerged with a creme pie held in either paw. Malva promptly took one and splat it down upon his bobbing erection, and the other she slammed upon the top of the fox's head, eliciting another groan from him as his cunnilingus turned creamy.

Ryoga stepped into his boots and then slapped the heels together, respectfully bowing to his mother before leaving the room.

***

The streets of Perslamus were empty when Ryoga, his Harem, and his librarian Jessica arrived in the foreign capital city. They were in full Jahaliyan garb which proudly displayed their voluptuous bodies, leaving little to the imagination except what a lusty fur would do if he/she could get under one of these eight beautiful individuals. Prince Ryoga surveyed the poor housing lining the streets with his chest out, his fur tufting around the leather harness he wore. His gilded sword swung against his muscular thigh.

The scholarly vixen Jessica quickly indicated she wanted to go to the Perslaman library for research, which has been emptied by all as arranged beforehand. Her lust for knowledge was even more powerful than the libido Goddess had blessed her with.

"We'll hold for our guide," the wolf cautioned, holding his paw aloft, "and with his permission, you'll have your literary feast."

"Yes, m'lord."

Their Jahaliyan uniforms--straps, belts, and boots that accentuated their bodacious forms, rather than concealing them--quickly gained the clandestine attention of eyes and faces, youths and any who dared, peering out from the poor housing's shutters and curtains. In a land where males walked freely in nothing but silk pants and women were forced under law to cover themselves almost wholly, this roving band of nude warriors was an extravagant, daresay outrageous sight.

The people had been told the Jahaliyans would be coming, and they were to hide from the foreigners' "shameful forms." Even so, now the Jahaliyans were here, lusty groans could be heard from some of the windows. Many were masturbating in secret, and who could blame them? The Harem sluts were cut from their wildest forbidden dreams, displayed with pride and self-confidence. They were all gorgeous, all seven of the females... and a robust wolf prince stood before them, tapping his foot as the guide finally appeared.

The guide was a tall, lanky red-maned wolf whose posture was limp and petulant. He carried his scroll in the pit of his arm and wore his pants lower than his waist would recommend. He regarded the Jahaliyans with an overly loud clearing of his throat.

"Greetings, our honored guests, Prince Ryoga and his Harem," he recited, "If you'll follow me this way, I shall lead you to the distinguished King Unctuo, ruler of this fine land."

"That will be good," Ryoga said with a noble bow, paw resting on the pommel of his sword, "If I may make a request, can my honored scholar take a sampling of your archives?"

"Excuse me?"

Ryoga straightened up. "Ahem. Do you have a library and can Jessica access it?"

The red-maned wolf let out a sudden laugh, pulling his pants up with his free paw.

"It's fortunate you came as soon as you did. The King's council has fought for its decommissioning for years, and they've finally gotten themselves in a position to 'purge the seditious texts,' as they say."

The hackles on Jessica's fur raised, but Tina, the Harem skunk, was quick to put a paw on her shoulder and whisper, "Easy, Jess. These aren't nice people."

The red-maned wolf waited for them, not hearing the conversation, and then continued, "So you could probably take whatever books you wanted. The council won't notice."

Jessica's mood immediately changed, and she leapt for joy.

"What are you waiting for?" Ryoga demanded with a happy growl, "Go!"

And like that, the vixen was gone.

"So," Ryoga said, turning back to the red-maned wolf, who had been watching Jessica bound down the lane and now sported a very obvious erection, "shall we be off to see the king?"

"Y-yessir!"

King Unctuo was surrounded by his council. They were of various canine and feline species, all were male, and were in various states of disarray, both with their fur and with their drunkenness. King Unctuo was a greasy-looking jaguar with a turquoise vest and silk pants. There was already a splatter of red wine on them, and by Ryoga's estimation of time it had barely passed the noon hour. He had seen very few clocks, and none of them had been wound in years.

"My lord," the red-maned wolf recited, clearing his throat overly loud again, "this is Prince Ryoga Miscon of Jahaliya and her Harem girls are behind him."

Ignoring the lazy parlance of their escort, the prince put his paws behind him and slapped his boot heels together, bowing so low that the sheath of his sword bulged upward through his worn cape.

"I am indeed Prince Miscon and I come on behalf of your trade petition," the silver and alabaster wolf spoke. "Shall we begin our discussions?"

The wolf's eyes were quick about the room, always surveying. While King Unctuo looked at him with half-lidded eyes, the others in his council were looking past him, explicitly diverting themselves from his admirable male form and leering at the six women that flanked him. Some had already begun to lewdly touch themselves, while others just sat with their paws on their knees, leaning forward upon their fat pillows of pure Perslamus Silk, stained with liquor and crumbs.

This was despite all six females being armed with understated confidence, standing with the posture of trained warriors. However, The council seemed only able to concentrate on their lusty forms and the thought of them writhing in their beds.

"...yes!" the King exclaimed after too long a pause. He took a quick drink. "the Jahaliyan Cream. Yes, yes; we need something to mix with this rancid wine!"

The Prince cringed. Poisoning their cream with this foul liquor?

"...aye, that was our agreement," he said with a braced jaw.

"Here!" the jaguar said, yanking a thick sheet of paper from under his rump. It was wrinkled and it was stained, but it was indeed their contract.

The prince took it in his paw and quickly scanned it. He had to snap his jaw closed before he burst with laughter. It was a legal contract indeed, but the handwriting was atrocious and the King's own name had been misspelled.

Ryoga kicked off his boots and undid his cape before he placed himself down on a clean-looking Perslaman pillow with his legs crossed. A couple in the council looked at his hefty sheath with obvious disgust. They looked away when the prince tried to make eye contact.

"Shall we get down to the finer details?" the wolf asked, holding out his paw congenially.

"Yes!" the jaguar king slurred, "Would you have some wine?"

The prince's paw immediately turned flat as if to physically push the idea away.

"Jahaliyans don't drink," he said, "it enhances the desire, but enervates the performance. But I am most appreciative of your offer."

"More for me!" the jaguar declared.

And with that, their discussions ensued.

***

"Well, that's a promising start!" the wolf chuckled as he cast off his boots and cape, though he didn't have time for his belt nor harness, as those were hastily removed from his body by the hungry paws of Nell and Corsi. The Harem warriors' books were scattered about their private room, which was proudly furnished by silk curtains and pillows, with a tile floor underneath. They had been studying all afternoon just prior to the prince's return; there were many tenets of both Jahaliyan and Perslaman literature to attend to.

But now, with the grand prince's return, their only goal was to strip him naked and put him through his sexual paces. The prince took this attack with a laugh, and dove into the voluptuous furry pile with an erection that sprung pre right as it popped out of its sheath. Thrown onto a thick silk pillow, his legs were split and pulled to the sides. Nell nuzzled under his heavy sac and began licking his taint; Corsi lowered herself upon his muzzle and he supped of her silken folds, his tongue penetrating deep. Natasha grasped his foot and suckled on his toes, and Tina held his other footpaw, pressing her hard thumbs into his arch to ruthlessly massage him, sending waves of pleasure up his already electrified body.

"For the Goddess' Blessing; stop or I'll cum already!" Ryoga cried, laughing as sweet feminine nectar coursed down his muzzle and wet his neck.

"For the Goddess's Blessing," Corsi moaned as she moved down on him, straddling his chest, "we know you can spare one orgasm."

The otter ground her slick sex against the wolf's chest as she moved down on him, kissing him soundly on the lips, and lapping inside of his mouth, as she angled herself against the wolf's massively engorged cock. She rubbed her wet labia against him and the wolf cried out, sending ropes of cum against the underside of her tail and arcing past it, splattering her back with his semen.

"See?" Corsi mewled, grasping his cock and angling it against her femmesex, "that's only round one."

"By the Goddess, you will all end me," Ryoga growled with a wide smile on his face, thrusting into her slick cunt as best as he could, his feet in the air and lavished upon by his buxom rabbit slut and his muscular skunk bruiser. The tigress Nell continued to drag her raspy tongue against his perineum, and then moved lower to tongue the wolf's sensitive rump. As he relished the attention, he saw his Harem rabbit Eleanor watching out the window with her sword at her side, one ear turned to enjoy the sex at hand.

Natasha and Tina suddenly let his feet down, which provided better leverage for plowing, but their distressed hurry brought the coitus to a pause, and Ryoga bent his head backwards to look at the doorway.

There was a servant girl; her species was indistinguishable under an all covering heavy Yakka cloth with an eyeslit cut out. She was holding a tray of mugs filled with coffee, which clattered against each other as she beheld the lewd congress. Her eyes widened immediately at their salacious antics, and shivered with an aroused tingle.

"I...I was wondering if our lord and his mistresses would like some refreshments?" she asked, her voice tremulous under the thick cloth.

Well-practiced in times of inadvertent interruptions, the Jahaliyans disassembled and Ryoga was fast in his cape while the others sat around him and returned to their literature.

"I am sorry you had to see us in our time-honored traditions," the wolf prince spoke, bowing low, "we were not expecting any conveniences this evening. Thank you for the coffee."

"I will just leave this here," the servant girl quickly spoke, sliding the tray onto a corner table and then fleeing from their room. Though Ryoga did not feel shame for his actions, he felt sorry for her and the blatant culture clash she undoubtedly experienced. He also smelt an unfamiliar musk in the air--the servant girl had been aroused.

"Poor girl," he mumbled as the rabbit Eleanor changed her post with Tina and pressed her breasts against the wolf's back, her paw sliding down the front of his torso.

***

The next morning Ryoga awoke, entangled in his cape, to screams in the distance outside his window.

"Arise!" he barked, quickly buckling his sword to his waist, forgoing his other raiments.

In a rush of bare footpaws, the Jahaliyan seven padded onto the streets to a scene where a half-naked Perslaman girl--a dalmatian--was thrown to the ground and beaten with fists and the pommels of swords.

"This slut scratched me!" a mutt dog male yelped, clutching his neck over a wound that was negligible at best.

"Are you her husband?" Ryoga asked, naked save for the sword on his belt.

"None of your business!" the mutt snarled, drawing his scimitar. "Are you the Jahaliyans?" he asked, eyeing the seven naked furs.

"We--"

"No, we're locals out to disgust you with our blessed forms!" the skunk Tina snarked, her fist fast around the hilt of her own sword.

"Hold fast, my dear," Ryoga said, his jaw stiff, "there is little time for sardonicism. What is this woman's crime?" he asked.

"Are you deaf, wolf?" the mutt yelped, "this bitch, my daughter, scratched me when I whipped her for leaving the dishes dirty!"

"I was going to do them!" the dalmatian protested.

"Before I woke up!" the mutt barked, punching his daughter in the jaw. She yelped in pain. "And you," he snarled, "walking around our respectable land with your cunts and cocks out in the open; how dare you!"

"Didn't you read the edict?"

"I don't read! INFIDEL!!!" the mutt shouted, charging the wolf with his dagger held aloft and the mob behind him.

"Jahaliyans, form up!" Tina barked, drawing her sword.

The girl's aggressors didn't stand a chance. Their heads and arms lined the street in disarray, separated from their bodies. Each Jahaliyan had to take one, perhaps two swings at best when the ravenous group charged them. Only the dalmatian girl remained, bloodied and beaten at the place where they'd left her.

"What is your name?" Ryoga asked, kneeling before her and offering his paw.

"My name is Perditia," she coughed, her muzzle showing that her bottom right fang had been knocked out.

"And this is expected?" the wolf asked, swinging a paw backwards at the gore as Nell began to growl.

"Yes; that is the law," she quavered, standing with a weak stumble, quickly covering herself with her arms. "You may be punished for saving me."

"Like Hell!" Tina snarled, cleaning her sword against her thigh.

"Perditia," Ryoga inquired, "are you all right?"

"Halt!" came from a distance, the clattering of armor moving up on the naked warriors. The city guard surrounded the Jahaliyans quickly and brandished their swords in ordered fashion. The Harem warriors, in turn, dropped their own weapons to the ground and raised their paws. Ryoga beheld the situation, Perditia in his arms, without unsheathing his sword.

"Punishment for the indolent daughter!" one of the guards cried. "Slaughter of our citizens! Death to the Jahaliyans!" said another. Ryoga looked upon them with a stoic, angry glare.

***

"Your majesty, it was all in self defense," said Prince Miscon to the King, bowing low. "We appraised the situation and were quickly attacked. They took offense to our exhibitionism, which you had approved."

"Yes, you requested being naked," King Unctuo said, taking a loud gulp from his cup. "But our locals are sensitive to that."

"Then we are free to go and pursue our trade agreement?" Ryoga asked. He was escorted, as were the rest of his warriors, by troops with polearms and ugly curses.

"Yes; yes. Unless you'd like to stay for the dalmatian bitch's execution."

Ryoga's eyes lit up. "For dishes?" he exclaimed, "No; that can't be so. Our agreement is off if she dies!"

The king gravely shook his head. "No, no; I'm sorry," he said, "It's the law. We can still trade, but the girl must die."

"We can punish her!" Jessica exclaimed, running before Ryoga. There was a mass of scrolls under her arm; she had been busy. "Your law states that Perslamus can delegate any kingdom in binding alliance--that includes trade--to dole out any punishments prescribed by Perslamus.."

"Jessica, we're not killing a woman who's done no harm," Ryoga whispered to her.

"Just give me another night in the library," the vixen whispered back, "I've got an angle."

Ryoga clamped his jaw, but he did not look at the king.

"The Goddess Blessing rest upon you," he said to Jessica with a low growl. His shoulders sagged at the implications. "The Kingdom of Jahaliya rests upon you," he said with a quiver. A polearm jabbed into his back and he snarled, tears springing from his eyes.

***

"I can't take this pressure," Jessica sighed as she let another book fall from her thigh. "These books are ancient; they're ambiguous, and if we don't do things according to Perslaman law and appease the Goddess, we're dead. We're not _dead_dead, but there goes Jahaliya. Back to tribalism, war, and mediocre sex drives. I can't lose these, either!" she exclaimed to no one, fondling her breasts, squeezing their perky peaks.

The fennec librarian looked on with astonishment. The vixen had been let in by permission of the king, and was stark nude, stripped of her weapons and, due to their arrest, bearing no other clothing apart from her thigh boots. She kicked the boots off in frustration, putting a paw to her russet and ivory forehead. The fennec had a raging erection, irresistibly drawn to her beauty. The doors had been barred; no one else was allowed to enter.

"But they're ambiguous," Jessica said with a sudden spark, "there has to be some escape. Some semantic loophole," she concluded, grabbing up the scroll she'd read a thousand times over.

"Shamed by thrown objects, either lethal or disgusting," she recited, her claw nearly cutting the paper as it ran over, "like stones or dung, something something... blood shall be spilt in the name of Perslamus...Goddess," she exclaimed, "so if she lets blood and gets hit by something she doesn't like, then we're out on the easy."

The vixen grinned and rolled the scroll back up, setting it aside as she reclined in her chair. Her hips squeezed her legs together, and her bare breasts looked at the stars, resting on her chest like two great mounds.

The librarian fennec quivered--his pants had dark spots from the precum he was letting. He stumbled into her view with his paws behind his back, as was etiquette, and bowed to her.

"M-my Lady has found her satisfaction?" he stammered.

"Oh! You're still here," the vixen observed, placing her paws upon her armrests, smiling at him. "I have, and thank you. I should be going... my good sir, did you wet your pants?" she exclaimed.

"No! No, M'lady; I'm just not used to such blatant beauty from a woman and with kindred interests. Y--you're stark nude and I..."

"Hush, young one," the vixen said. With a fox's spry speed, she had encroached upon him and put her paws upon his stomach, kneading the fur between the flaps of his vest. "You are pleased by me. I fancy myself an intellectual and I am also blessed by the Goddess. If any part of me pleases you..." she trailed off, her vulpine jaw alight with teeth and a smile, "then please. Please yourself."

The fennec trembled and placed his paws upon her sides, just below her breasts. Dark spots dappled the front of his tented silk pants, which were held up by an erection so obvious that Jessica could see the head's slit through the stained fabric.

"Please," she said, loosening the sash about his waist, "and thank you."

"No!" he said, backing from her, covering himself, "We are not to commune with foreigners--unless we've defeated them--and I would have to marry you if we were to... to..."

Jessica looked once more at the barred doors before she approached him.

"I know you're afraid, and what you want to do is illegal," she said, placing her paw on his shoulder, "but there is no one else here--the king ordered that my visit be kept secret--and so if you won't tell," she said, loosening his sash so that his pants sagged and revealed his rump, "I won't either."

The fennec trembled as he sat upon the floor, but when the red fox's lips touched his, he melted into her, and moaned in quiet bliss as his pants fell the rest of the way. She kissed his forehead as she straddled him, but was quickly stopped.

"It's not against the law if I pleasure myself," he objected. "If you would just...oh, this sounds stupid."

"If I...dance for you?" she grinned, standing free of him and putting her paws on her hips, thrusting her bared breasts out for him.

"Yes!" he said, standing up, his modest erection bobbing before him, the knot full. "And with a book? I...like the intellectuals," he admitted.

The vixen grinned. "Now that's a kink I can get behind."

The fennec was naked, leaning in a corner with his paw fast around his cock, stroking it slowly. The vixen was in the center of the room, book balanced preciously in her paw as she demurely gyrated before him, thrusting her hips out to give him faint hints of the femmesex between them, her large russet tail undulating behind her. She rested the book against her breasts and covered one of her erect nipples, the other standing true, and gently twirled about the massive, condemned building as if she would own it--as if she could save it--while the fennec looked shakily on, groaning as he pulled at his penis, his warm pads massaging his knot as precum dribbled onto the floor, and it was a silent, erotic dance until he hissed through his teeth, freezing up.

"I'm going to--"

"Hush, young one," the vixen said, sliding to her knees in front of him, "would it be illegal if you so happened to spill on my face?"

"It'd be a fine of twenty--"

"I'll pay it!" she murred, stroking his thighs, "please enjoy yourself. For one night. Better on me than on the books, right?" she snickered, squeezing his fuzzy scrotum.

The fennec threw his head back and moaned, one paw flying to his chest under his vest as the other squeezed his cock one more time, his body trembling as it spilled rope after rope of pent-up, anxious cum over the beautiful vixen's face, soiling her immaculate fur and sagging until it dribbled off her whiskers onto her thighs.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Let's get you out of Perslamus," she snarked, standing up and tapping him on the nose. "I would love to see you in a proper harness and some calf-high boots. Unless you're into the thigh-highs?"

"I'm what?"

Jessica chuckled as she wiped her face and slapped him on the butt, walking back to her scrolls. "Now, before this library gets burned down, I need your help researching a few legal details."

"I'd be honored; just let me get dressed."

"Why bother?" replied Jessica saucily, "I don't need to, and neither do you tonight."

"You want to me to research like this?!" the fennec exclaimed, paws indicating his bare lower half.

"No, stupid," Jessica smiled, "you gotta take the vest off too. Show me them titties."

The rest of the night was perfect. It was studying in the nude, love-making in a locked, abandoned building, and the most perfect place for focus. Either his head was buried in a book revelling in this beautiful femme sharing her intellect and appreciating his, or it was buried in the sweet, sweet femininity of this free vulpine more directly, who was more than ready to take what he could dish out.

Neither his philosophies nor his penis fell short.

***

Ryoga sat with his muzzle on his knuckles in the center of the commons on the edge of a dried-up fountain, his worn cape ensheathing his back and draped down into the empty basin. On his lap, sparkling in the morning sun, was a brilliant crimson pile of Perslaman Silk with a gold chain ending with the signet of Jahaliya hanging between his legs. It was his new cape, but he couldn't bear it. Perditia sat next to him, wrapped toe to muzzle in old Yakka burlap, her fingers barely emerging from the baggy sleeves. This trade bore down on Ryoga and he would not return a single villager's stare as they proceeded past him. The wolf prince stared straight ahead at the distant Perslaman gates. Exodus, once Jessica got here.

His six Harem sluts sat about him and Perditia, all in sad, gloomy states. Even the mighty Tina would only glare at the lusty males who were today more openly ogling her envious form.

On any other day, Ryoga would have thrown that blood-red mantle over his shoulders and thrust his engorged phallus into the air, inviting any of his Harem to feast themselves upon it; a grand salacious display for the glory of the Goddess of Jahaliya!

But it was in its sheath, as his cape was on his lap, as his sword lay on the ledge next to him, disconnected from his belt. The doomed girl sat beside him, bent like a dry cocoon. Ryoga was a stranger in a strange land, and by lying down with these dogs with their damned dog-eat-dog laws, he worried he may awake tomorrow with fleas: actual fleas, too, if the Goddess should revoke Her blessing.

"Prince Miscon! Long stand Jahaliya!" came a cry from behind them. It was Jessica and the librarian--what was that boy's name?--sprinting to them with a bundle of scrolls in their arms.

"What in blazes," the prince uttered, standing free. "Goddess, if this is one of your tests..."

"Okay!" Jessica panting as they arrived. The fennec was gasping for air. "Like I said, I've got an angle. We'll be taking their silk paw-over-fist and Goddess isn't taking my harness-puppies."

"Speak proper before your prince!" the wolf snapped, but then gave a slight bow of apology. "You have good news for me?"

"We do," she said with a smile. "Raschid here helped me with the translations, making sure my loopholes were semantically sound."

"The logic is sound," the small librarian smiled, nodding. "Several of our ancient laws were written with the 'spirit'' implied; they have so many holes you couldn't carry gravel in them."

The prince regained his predatory sneer, and he unclasped his old cape with a flick of his claws. The garment collapsed around him as he spoke. "Well, it just goes to show you," he said, swinging the new cape around his shoulders. It glistened and sparked in the sunlight; his Harem let out a collective gasp. "There is not so much _malice_in this world as much as there is cowardice and loose integrity, traded for convenience. This is a kingdom fallen not to evil, but to negligence and greed..." he trailed off, looking at the swaddled and withered form of Perditia.

"And it's fallen deeply indeed."

A chill went over him as he suddenly saw what could have been: she dead in the streets, her muzzle broken and her eyes the color of thawing meat. He shook the grotesque vision from his mind.

"Jessica," he said in a low, even tone, "whatever machinations you and Raschid have conjured, let us get to them. We must rejoice in the life you will save, but..."

The wolf's eyes turned upward to the decaying commons, the ramshackle houses with their tattered awnings. Now that the Jahaliyans were standing, much of the populace had retreated back inside. The citizens' glances were pensive, hidden. Scared.

"Let us leave this horrible place. If Goddess calls us back for the rest of them, we shall return..."

***

"Our towers have not fallen and I awoke once more with the spirit of a young dragon," King Gohrig declared, the salt-and-pepper wolf pacing his throne room, "and so my son once again, courageous as he is stubborn, has maintained the Goddess' blessing."

The wolf stopped with a clap of his heels and turned to the Prince.

"How?" he demanded.

Ryoga stood before him with his paws knotted behind his back, under his flowing cape. The fabric was so light, so tender, that it seemed to undulate even in a room sealed from the elements.

"Our venerable and gracious king," he announced, and his entourage bowed behind him, "My deed is not done, but I place my full confidence in our adroit scholarly slut and her companion. May I introduce Raschid, Keeper of the Perslaman Records."

"I don't need to know the messenger boy's name!" Gohrig barked, beginning to pace, "and I've heard you brought a Perslaman woman with you as well! Why?"

"The end part of our bargain. A sudden, difficult addition," Ryoga said, steeling his jaw, "she scratched her father's face and must be punished by Perslaman law. As per our trade agreement, we shall be the arbiters."

"Perslaman law?!"the king roared, his paw springing to his sword, "If Jahaliya is to be ruined by your cocksure dealings, then I shall be the one to--"

"Father!" Ryoga barked, immediately falling to one knee as the king's eyes glowed with rage. "Execution is sadly common in their depraved land, but her death is not explicitly required.

"Jessica, if you will."

The young vixen tentatively moved past her prince, suppressing a tremble as she stood in view of her angered king. "Y-your highness, if this was a kingdom ruled by someone of your caliber, yes. We'd be doomed. But, if you'll bear me this moment, I can show you how we can fulfill their demands _to the letter_with cheap semantic dodges. The Goddess Herself would laugh!"

The great imposing wolf king stared at her for a few long seconds, then removed his paw from his sword and pushed his crown up his salt-and-pepper brow.

"Proceed."

***

The eight of them, led by a dead-silent wolf prince in an endlessly flowing cape of pure crimson, exited the king's chamber in straight, frigid lines with straight, frigid expressions on their faces, chased by the sound of bellowing, triumphant laughter from their monarch. They had won his approval by gratuitous bounds, but the imposing presence Ryoga's father could hold in any room enormously dwarfed that of their kingdom's confident diplomat.

And so it was a strange sight, the ten of them walking like stolid centurions through the castle, to the public amphitheater where they would carry out the dalmatian girl's punishment. This was Jahaliya, but they were marching as to an execution, which it certainly was not. The death of the girl would be the doom of the kingdom. Cleared of the king's chambers, Ryoga stopped with a weak clap of his boots and turned to his entourage.

"The punishment shall occur three hours hence. Please do not disturb our lioness Sylvia as she preens the young girl. Please see our ferret merchant beforehand should you also wish to partake of Perslaman silk; the first shipment I'm informed has arrived as of this morning."

Ryoga bowed to his entourage, and they--Raschid included--returned his gesture.

"For the glory of Jahaliya and the Goddess's Blessing."

***

"I'm so unused to your... free culture," the dalmatian quietly said, sitting on a high metal stool in the center of Sylvia's dressing room. Mirrors beset her on all sides, showing the nude lioness from all angles as she moved around the timid female. "Your ways don't make sense to me, but everyone seems so happy. Especially your females; nobody has the least bit of shame. There's no guilt; you..." she said, looking back at the lioness as her hood was removed.

"You're not even dressed so much as a whore. I...I'm sorry," she said as she saw Sylvia's fur prickle. "That is my culture's guilt, projected onto you. How 'dare' you parade around, your bosom and your femmesex exposed, put on display for the pleasure of all the males. And how 'dare' those males march about with their phalluses, thick and full like a donkey's, their pendulous sacs bouncing between their muscular, meaty thighs for the pleasure of all us...all you females."

Sylvia listened to the girl with her muzzle open, ready to object, but the dalmatian girl continued to ramble, her paws demurely clutched in her lap, her head bent down to look her knees, and never at the naked lioness.

"I...I'm sorry. I mean no offense. My death is today and so my language is coarse. I was born a Perslaman and I shall perish under their law, never to enjoy the decadent luxury your every Jahaliyan citizen enjoys. Not even King Unctuo knows of this land's bounty--only rumors. Our crass jokes of your 'assured' countless venereal diseases would so deeply offend you."

The former schoolmistress's brow creased. She had dealt with rambunctious girls before, like Robin. These insults that this dalmatian was throwing out--they weren't actually insults directed at her. They were frustrations. Deep wounds that had scabbed over, and Perditia was trying to scratch them. The older femme's gender tingled between her legs, and a wise smile spread across her face.

"You said that the males also parade around for all our pleasure. Do you like their cocks?" she asked, placing her paws on the dalmatian's cloak, revealing her shoulders.

"Oh, they were sumptuous!" Perditia said with a start, turning to the naked slut, "their sheaths were voluminous like travelers' satchels, and from many of them issued grandiose penises that swung as they walked, beating against their thighs with a hefty thump. And their chests, firm and full like the breast of an ox. I..."

Perditia suddenly froze with her mouth open, and a red hot blush overtook her person. Her legs trembled as a warm, wet fluid misted between her thighs. "I am engorged," she said with a tremble, then looked to the lioness. The dalmatian felt her dress sag, revealing her spotted chest.

"Your vocabulary is brilliant, my dear," Sylvia said as she knelt beside her, "but I think you're hiding your true desires behind such eloquence."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a breathy sigh. Her dress fell again and she caught it before her breasts were revealed. Her tongue coursed over the hole where her bottom right fang had been.

"What did you want to do to those cocks?" the feline asked. Her voice was low and husky, and the musk of her aroused femmesex drifted about the mirrored room. In the mirror directly behind the lioness, the dalmatian saw that her netherlips were swollen and wet. Her own shivered in empathy.

"I desired, deep in the confines of my roiling mind, to caress their phalluses with the palm of my hand."

"To stroke their cocks?"

"Y-yes, that too," she whispered. Sylvia reached for the dalmatian's paw, which was holding her dress up. She pushed it down and Perditia let her, exposing her pert, modest breasts which rose and fell with heated breath. Her nipples were hard as diamonds. "And, should I find subconscious harmony in the male that chooses me...no. That I choose..."

"Yes," the lioness whispered, rising up on Perditia. She reached a paw out and the dalmatian took it, pressing it to her breast. She moaned as a sudden tremor overtook her. Perditia squeezed the woman's paw down on her, and Sylvia clenched her teeth as the dalmatian's claws pressed into her fur.

"I would embrace him fully and take his mighty shaft and thrust it deep into my body; my being would be otherwise incomplete once put in this fitful, intoxicating state. I would impale myself upon his needful rod, I would pleasure my aching body until finally I shudder, overcome, gratified at last."

Sylvia's breathing had become shallow. Her muzzle was inches from this girl's, from whom came an inner fury and an even deeper, keener sense of want.

"In your filthy, honest words," the Perslaman grunted, leaning her face toward Sylvia's, "I would _fuck_him."

The lioness wrapped a paw around Perditia's back and pursed her lips. Why shouldn't the girl's first experience as a woman be with another woman?

"But it is all for nought!" Perditia barked, sliding off the stool and casting her dress from her body, kicking the limp fabric aside. She wore underneath a high-waisted loincloth that covered her navel. This too, she unraveled with a yank of her paws and threw it aside in a bundle.

The dalmatian beheld herself, nude, aroused, and furious, in front of the mirrors. Ten of her stood all around. Sylvia had not seen it at first, but now that the girl--dramatically--was out in the open, the older lioness saw the bones of her hips, the crenulations of her ribs...the stark gauntness of her form.

"I am to die today. It was good to dream with you, Sylvia, but this is far as my broken wings will carry me. Thank you for taking mercy on me; I go unto Perdition with my head held high."

Sylvia came quickly to the dalmatian and gently placed her paws on her shoulders once more. The girl's natural scent was earthy, like fresh soil, but had a sweet tangy sting to it that tickled the lioness's nose.

"There is no ruin that awaits you here," the lioness said in a low, gentle tone. She had to lean down to reach her floppy black ear. "We would hardly wish such a fate on our enemies, much less the innocent. The Prince has it all worked out. You will see the end of this day with a smile."

"In my old land, a conversation like this would see me disemboweled..."

"You're not in the old land," the lioness firmly interrupted. She stood up straight and put on her old schoolmistress grimace. "And I shan't tolerate such language, young lady."

The sudden change put a shock through Perditia, and she coldly became conscious of her naked spotted body. The cloying musk of her arousal hit her nose all at once, and she gasped for air, on the verge of panic. "Y-yes, madam."

Sylvia braced her by the small of her back.

"Welcome to Jahaliya."

***

A loud rapping came against Sylvia's door. In the background were the sounds of splashing; Perditia was bathing. The lioness had begun to help her, but as her ambiguous reckoning loomed close, she'd asked to be alone with her thoughts. Sylvia instead took to replacing the sheets on her bed with luxurious Perslaman silk, purring as her paws coarsed against the perfect fabric. How could such a lustrous fabric come from a kingdom so...?

Knock knock

"Hasten me not, you honorable brutes!" she cursed at the door, anxious, recognizing the Jahaliyan Guard's curt knocking. She opened it with a firm scowl on her face, covering her own fuzzy feeling of dread. John, her former groundskeeper and now honorable mage, Ryoga's majordomo, stood beset by two centurions.

"We are here for the 'damned'," he said with a similar grimace. John's eyes went wide as he realized his words. Sylvia had to clench her jaw to stop herself from smiling. Their ruse had to be hidden from the girl: her "shame," at least initially, had to be genuine.

"Such deplorable language!" the lioness snapped, grabbing the mouse by the ear. "If you're to maintain such ceremony, at least you could soften the blow!"

The centurions openly laughed as their venerable leader was chastised like a school-mouse. They were getting a firsthand look at the world John and Sylvia had come from, and the comedy was shattering their own mounting dread.

The lioness quickly composed herself as she heard Perditia leave the tub, and she went to greet the dalmatian as Perditia toweled herself off, stepping into view of John and the guards. She let out a bark of surprise upon realizing the door was wide open, and covered herself with the towel.

"Majordomo John, may I introduce our guest, Perditia of Perlsamus. The accused who must be punished under Perslaman law, but," she said, turning quickly to the girl, "one that shall be 'reformed' by the arbiters of Perslaman law, we the people of Jahaliya. Perditia, if you would now look upon the sumptuous, robust, and exciting male bodies of John and his two stolid guards and entrust yourself to their care. Aren't they beautiful?"

The salacious undertones of the lioness's speech were making the girl blush.

"This isn't funny," she objected, clutching her towel, "You're making a parody of my execution."

The lioness's normally firm, emotionless face fell into a scowl.

"Guards!" she cried, tearing the towel from Perditia's body, leaving the malnourished girl naked and shivering, "Take her away!"

***

A metal collar snapped around her neck and she was lead, by the two long poles chained to it, to the center stage of a full amphitheater with her paws bound behind her back.

"You betrayed me!" she shrilled as she was pulled from Sylvia's room, "I should have died in Perslamus!"

"Jahaliyan ingrates! Lusty infidels!" she cursed as she was forced down the hallway. She spat at a passing bull wearing nought but an apron, carrying a full tray of creme pies. As he passed, her eyes glanced upon his formidibal gluteals, which tripped her in her speech.

"Sons of whor..." she started, but let out a wail of defeat as they soon passed the hallway and entered into the arena, loud with rabid cheering and rapid chanting.

This is my end... she thought miserably, falling to her knees in the center of everyone. The guards stood on either side of her, holding her control rods tight. Beyond her, in the center of the crowd, sat King Gohrig and Queen Malva. On either side of them was Prince Ryoga and Majordomo John. Ryoga's wives, Robin and Jasmine, sat in the row behind them, firmly holding each others' paws. The king handed Ryoga a scroll, bound in Perslaman silk, and the Prince received it with a bow and slipped the silk ribbon from the parchment. Raschid, sitting between Sylvia and Jessica in the audience, Horace on the other side of the lioness, whimpered as he fought back tears.

Ryoga unfurled it with a grim expression on his face, and when he cleared his throat, a silence rippled through the audience until all that could be heard were the echoes of his own voice.

"Perditia of Perslamus," he called out, "you stand here accused of dishonoring your father. While in following Perslaman law, to give you a sound beating for failing to cleanse your family's time-honored platterware, you unwisely struck out against this 'innocent' man and scored his face with your claws. These are wounds that shall never heal, especially now that he has met his untimely end against Jahaliyan steel; so unwise were his actions in his 'justifiable' rage.

"That cleanses not the sin against your father; may his memory be forever 'honored.''"

John watched the Prince closely. While Ryoga was a most majestic and graceful speaker, the mouse noticed the wolf's lip curl whenever the text praised or tried to exonerate Perditia's accusor. Behind him John heard the jackal and wolf snarls of Ryoga's wives.

"As interpreted and confirmed by our adroit scholar Jessica and her sharp aide and also our witness for today's tribunal, Raschid of Perslamus, Perditia the accused shall be shamed by no less than forty projectiles thrown at her body from a distance no more than two meters," he recited, noting as John, his Harem sluts, and a few Jahaliyan guards approached the stage, "for the sole purpose of soiling and/or bruising her 'seditious' and 'unfaithful,' body. Death will bring immediate absolution to the accused..." Ryoga paused as he scanned the rest of the parchment, and then saw Jahaliyan chefs make their way down the rows. Giggles vibrated through the crowd. Perditia, who could not see behind her, whimpered and hung her head, bracing herself now they seemed to be laughing at her. Raschid eyed the chefs as they proceeded, and let out a happy yelp. Jessica quickly shushed him.

"That mad, cocksure diplomat of a fur. Why did we marry him, again?" Robin confided in Jasmine, chuckling as she put her forehead in her paw.

"The first shall be cast by Majordomo John. May your aim be true," the wolf said, taking a seat by his mother.

Perditia heard the mouse grunt behind her, and her tail went between her bare legs. She was struck in the buns with a loud, sloppy splat, and her nose unconsciously pulsed, expecting the substance to be manure.

It was vanilla cream.

Tears of relief streamed down her face as her entire body trembled. As the pies rained down upon her, one after another in perfect synchronicity, the cream flying all over her frail form, getting in her eyes, running down her breasts, bouncing off her shoulders, trickling down her thighs, she laughed triumphantly. With a firm nod from Ryoga, the guards undid her bindings, and the dalmatian stood up, spreading her arms as the second volley began. Suddenly cherry, banana, lemon, and coconut creme pies were beating against her, staining her fur, streaming down her naked, liberated form, and with the mysterious Jahaliyan Cream, blessed by Goddess, Perditia felt a strange vigor as the material soaked into her fur. Seeing what was to transpire, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd and enveloped her like the cream.

"Welcome to Jahaliya," Sylvia whispered from the audience, her paws clutched against her chest. Next to her was the fennec librarian, whose pants were around his ankles and his hard cock in Jessica's paw.

"Remind you of your first?" Robin snarked as she elbowed her wife.

Perditia felt a surge of strength, of life, of spirit; the likes of which she'd never held before. Everything tingled, everything buzzed--everything grew. The ground below her grew a foot more distant, the legs that held her there filled out in tone and definition; her tail was as strong as a bullwhip. Her stomach, previously concave and quivering went flat, then developed muscles under the short fur that she'd only seen on Ryoga's Harem beforehand. And her breasts: they were full, they were round; they no longer fit in her paws, and those had grown, too!

Perditia took a swipe of fluffy cream from them and tasted the entrancing substance. Another jolt went through her, and she looked up at the Prince, who was now smiling with his paws akimbo, his crimson silk cape blowing behind him.

And his cock was fully erect, standing before him a good several inches more than she had expected, despite having seen other Jahaliyan shafts. That hunger that she had shared with Sylvia just a few hours prior returned to her in force.

"Our honored guest, and newest resident should you desire," he called out, silencing the crowd once more, "before you should retire in your reverie, there is one final, if unfortunate, tenet we must abide by if Jahaliya shall honor the law of your land."

"It is my land no longer!" the dalmatian snarled, foisting her fist.

"She renounces Perslamus!" he declared, and the crowd cheered again. "That said: blood must be spilt. Yours. Tonight. This could be as simple as a little cut, or picking an old scab, or..."

"Why don't you come down here and fuck me, you honorable cock-swinging nudist?"

The crowd went silent with a gasp. Sylvia's paw snapped to Horace's knee, and they looked at each other, aghast. Jessica's muzzle was around Raschid's cock. Her head froze mid-fellatio.

"I would not expect this of a Perslaman," the foreign-born Jasmine whispered to Robin.

Ryoga, too, was stunned: he couldn't even close his mouth. His head swiveled toward his parents, who were leaning forward in their thrones with expectant grins on their faces.

"You and that great big cock! Punish me like a Jahaliyan!"

His mother was smiling from ear to ear as she spoke to him. "She's going to have your job if you don't..."

The Prince flew over the crowd as if he'd grown wings. His cape, cast aside in mid-flight, glided into the crowd like a great crimson feather. He lost his boots at the stage, and was left only in his harness as he leapt upon Perditia and was seized by her legs, wrapping tightly around him as he plunged into her supple virgin folds and broke her guarded cherry with a loud reactionary snarl from his throat.

She growled back and soon the two were bearing their teeth at each other, nipping and fighting, their muzzles crossing like swords as she bucked hard against him and he thrust with a focused animal lust. Her claws dug into his back--it would heal in time--as he hoisted her up from the cream-drenched stage, clutching her firm rump as they beat against each other until he shuddered, overcome, and she tackled him to the ground as her own orgasm made her bay and howl. The fennec librarian in the audience gasped as he lacquered the insides of his scholarly lover's muzzle, and Horace leaned past Sylvia, applauding the youth.

"Well done, my foreign friend," he chuckled, eyeing the crumpled silk pants bunched around the fennec's ankles, "but tell me. You don't need those anymore, do you? We could cut a hole in the crotch and the seat if you're still so fond of them..."

The fennec looked over to the bear with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. As Jessica pulled her sticky muzzle from his groin, it was apparent he was still rock hard, and had begun to grow under the Goddess's blessing.

"Wh..." he grunted, looking at the pair, eyes darting from the lioness's buxom chest to the bear's enormous shaft, "...what are you two doing after the show?"

Sylvia gasped as she smiled at the boy, a paw reaching over to stroke his thigh.

"Well I never," she purred, "only a day in Jahaliya and already an impudent brat. Certainly, I and the Goddess welcome you to our land." She felt his leg muscles grow and swell beneath her paw.

"Is this the Goddess's blessing I've read about?" the fennec asked as his balls grew thick, pushing his thighs apart.

"That it is, my dear. Now, as for what the four of us are doing later..."

Ryoga slowly awoke from his daze a few minutes after he climaxed, tightly knotted to the Perslaman girl. Both of them were lightly bleeding, and the stage had buckled from when she had slammed him down. He awoke to a pair of keen, hungry eyes, Perditia leaning over him and breathing through her nose in long, hot gusts. He looked into her ravenous gaze and the crowd grew silent.

"It has been a long time since I've seen the Goddess take such an extreme liking to an outsider," he said. "You have the makings of a strong, fierce Jahaliyan slut should you choose to be. Your inner strength is incredible, now made physically manifest by Her Blessing. You have deeply gratified me in ways both surprising and known ... is there anything I can do for you on Her behalf?"

The dalmatian raised her head and scanned the theater. The audience was still there in full attendance, but many had now taken to each other in gratuitous displays of affection and lust. On the stage with them now stood John and the prince's two wives, Jasmine and Robin. Perditia looked back into the wolf's eyes and sneered.

"Another!" she barked.

***

"It was very good," Perditia said demurely, standing still in the midst of Sylvia's

mirrors as he lioness groomed her. Sylvia let out a snort of amusement at the dalmatian's calm evaluation. "Ryoga is a very good lover, and John certainly knows his way around a tailhole. I never knew of such pleasures. I would guess he is a bisexual."

"Most of us are to varying degrees, my dear," Sylvia said as she smoothed the dalmatian's ears. Perditia was now nearly as tall as the lioness. "I was quite taken with you last night when you confided so lustily in me."

Perditia blushed.

"I want a red harness," she declared, "Like the Prince's cape."

Sylvia looked up from a trunk of effects, many leather straps in a tangled pile.

"Are you intending on marrying him?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm not sure I'll _ever_want to settle into another contract, honorable slut," she answered, "though in your land, it would hardly be 'settling down.' I have some grand designs, now that the Goddess has shown me a truly glorious and edifying way of life."

"You certainly have the gumption," Sylvia remarked, bringing out a bright red harness and a pair of matching thigh-high boots. She handed these to the dalmatian. "Shall we be off to the banquet?"

"I hope they've made enough for two Jahaliyas," Perditia returned, "for I could eat until Goddess, Blessed be Her grace, regrets her decision about me."

The two women shared a warm smile, and then Perditia leaned in for a long, grateful kiss.

***

"That is a huge cock," Raschid remarked, nursing his bare, sore rump as he placed it against a newly-imported pillow of Perslaman silk. He and Jessica had shared a passionate lovemaking session while they were preparing for the banquet, which had left his pants in shreds and his vest stretched out, punctured by grasping claws. Initially, he had been appalled by his deprivation of "proper" attire, but when one of the guards complimented his package as he passed him in the hall, the exhibitionist in him awoke, and he couldn't help but strut with pride as the two made their way to the banquet hall.

"Yes, yes; you have a glorious penis," Jessica chuckled, batting at it with a book she'd brought with her. "As do all you Jahaliyan males. Adolescent boys, the lot of you!" she snickered.

"I don't have your fantastic breasts," he countered, reaching for the closest one.

She batted his paw away with her book. "And you will later! Just try to make it to the banquet; I'm not giving it up in the hallway."

"Please?" he asked, bouncing his cock in his paw as it grew erect.

"No!" she laughed, striking his rump with a sound blow from her book, the smack and his subsequent yelp echoing throughout the corridor.

Raschid rubbed his sore left cheek as he gazed at the table's centerpiece. It was an edible phallus, two meters high, comprised entirely of cake made with Jahaliyan Cream. Jessica let out an amused snort as she turned a page in her book.

"Are you thinking of staying?" she asked, a free paw gliding over to stroke his brand-new bicep.

"I'd stay without the sex," he declared openly, which drew a few odd glances from the guests around him. "Your library is so replete with histories, texts, and amazing fiction I could spend the rest of my ... oh Goddess, what the?!"

Under the table, a mouse chamber-maid had slinked in between Raschid's thighs and was lapping at his sizable erection which sent bolts of lust up and down the fennec's body. His objection caught in his throat, however and so he spread his legs and let her proceed, precum leaking onto his belly.

Majordomo John caught sight of this from across the room, and watched with swelling lust as his sweet mousemaid pleasured their guest. "Kestral, you rascal," he said to himself as he filled his chalice with Jahaliyan Crème Wisk.

"Now this is a way to welcome our new guest; is it not?" Jessica laughed as she threw an arm around a trembling, sex-drunk Raschid.

"Wh-what are you doing later?" he grunted at the mouse.

"Oh stop, you!" the vixen cackled as she playfully slapped his arm. "We already have Sylvia and Horace coming over. Are we just going to declare an orgy in the guest room?"

"The whole kingdom is invited..." the libarian droned. The mousemaid's head emerged and her lips wrapped around Raschid's hard cock.

"Goddess help you when it falls off," Jessica grinned and muttered, rolling her eyes as she returned to her book.

***

Ryoga finished the scroll he received and tore it in half, shaking his head as he turned to his King and Queen. "King Unctuo is not exactly pleased with our interpretation of the law, but we have his council in fits of laughter. They may copy our punishment in the future, especially considering the Jahaliyan Cream we're now trading with them. There may be hope for Perslamus after all."

King Gohrig nodded approvingly, and the Queen leaned forward as she knotted her paws. "You've done well, my son. May Jahaliya prosper for another century, with you and your wives to take our place when the time comes."

"You honor me," he said with a deep bow.

"Tell me, is that a _red_harness?" Malva interrupted, sighting a figure at the end of the hall.

One by one, Jahaliyans caught sight of their newest citizen, the Esteemed Perslaman Expatriate Perditia, and applause erupted throughout.

Ryoga beheld her beauty and drew in a sharp gasp. "I come undone..." he said, beaming. Sweat formed on his silver and alabaster brow.

The dalmatian made her way into the hall with a demure smile, her paws held at her sides and her short-furred, spotted body put on full, illustrious display. The Prince cleared his throat.

"May I present--" he started, but was cut short by the roar of the crowd.

"Perditia!" they yelled, and everyone clapped, including her fellow countryman Raschid, who was jolting as he spunked heavily into the mousemaid's mouth and down her breasts.

"Yummy," Kestral purred.

The dalmatian spread her arms wide and turned in a circle, taking in the crowd's cheers as she had taken their pies just hours before, and then she stopped short as she beheld the cake in the center of the room. Her audience seemed to beckon her on.

"For me?" she mouthed, modestly placing a paw on her large breast.

The noise in the room only seemed to grow louder, and so she proceeded confidently, her crimson thigh-high boots clicking on the marble floor, until she got to the table, whereupon she stepped up onto it and walked across, skillfully stepping between the sumptuous meat and dessert-based dishes until she reached the massive cake phallus that was just a chin shorter than her.

The Jahaliyan furs were going wild.

And so, with a grin that put her full canine teeth on display, including the missing fang that Goddess had restored, she embraced the cock between her paws and put her open maw around the sweet, moist head, pushing as much of it into her face as she could, frosting painting her cheeks, until she took an enormous bite.

Jahaliyan Cream erupted from the cock and coated her front, from brow to breast to thigh, and she reeled as the succulent white substance gushed over her. A look of enraptured surprise took her face--that which was visible under all that mess--and a standing ovation was the last she remembered before many lusty males charged the stage.

"Welcome to Jahaliya!" Ryoga laughed as he pounced her into the cake, cream spilling everywhere.

"I want to come, too!" Raschid said as he tore his vest and climbed on up.

"Like you haven't already?" Jessica groused, jumping on top.

The salacious display commenced henceforth and continued through many rooms of the palace, Jahaliyans collapsing in the hallways and others joining in again as they rejoiced in their reverie. It could be said that their cheers, moans, and shouts could be heard from neighboring kingdoms, and Goddess looked down on her people with a brilliant celestial grin.