Tani’s room stood in stark contrast to Fila’s, decorated in dark hardwoods and unbleached cloth. The raccoon’s bed—a substantial four-poster trimmed in tethering rings—dominated the floor, with a large chest at its end. A wardrobe stood against the opposite wall, and against it hung a polished sheet of glass. A wooden table and two chairs sat near the main window, in front of which hung a simple shade to block the light. A pair of small witchlights sat to either side of the head of the bed. The only sign of residency was the bookshelf beside the table, its shelves bending under the weight. Aside from that, it seemed more like a room at an expensive inn than someone’s home.
The door latched behind Mister Dion with a heavy clack as he dropped a latch into place. “So, this is it,” the vole murmured, his voice gliding lightly around his words. “Stand there, Stannis, and let me look at you.” He motioned to the window, then stepped to the table himself and lightly tossed his cap onto its surface.
I blushed, but I did as he asked, taking up a position under the window. Once I was in place, he raised one paw and twirled a finger in the air. “Arms at your side. Now, deep breath, let it out, and turn, slowly.” I could feel my ears and cheeks flushing, but I did as he asked, letting my paws hang by my sides. “My, my,” Mister Dion said in response, audibly licking his lips and sending a shiver down my spine. “You are quite the lovely creature, aren’t you?”
“Sir,” I said in response, keeping my head carefully bowed. I really had no idea how to respond to his words, but I had a fair idea of what he meant to do about them.
Mister Dion smiled. “Stop, boy, and come here.” He raised his arms to his sides. “Help me out of these clothes, but slowly. I want to watch you work.”
I half-bowed in response. “Sir,” I repeated. The cape was secured to his shirt by the brooch and a simple length of chain; both came free with little effort, and I folded them carefully and set them on the table. I fumbled with his buttons next, ears reddening even more, his eyes warm against the top of my head as my fingers traveled down his chest. The cut of his shirt was generous to hide a paunch around his middle, but from the rest of his build he was no stranger to a hard day’s work. As I tugged the fine-woven cloth free, he lowered his arms again so that I could pull the garment down from his shoulders. At his wrists were strips of darker brown fur, a curious pattern that had been covered by his sleeves.
He turned as I folded his shirt, then leaned back against his paws on the table, the end of his long, thin tail waving slowly back and forth. “Good, good,” he crooned. “Continue.” He lifted his hips, and I knelt in front of him. His pants were wool, like his cloak but combed much thinner, held around his waist and over his tail by hardwood buttons. Those came unfastened easily enough, though my fingers shook even more than they had with his shirt. I’d been the object of the cook’s rough affections before, and I remembered the lessons from the slaver that had accepted me into this world, but it was another thing entirely to have all those warnings come to pass. My paws hesitated on the waist of his pants, my muzzle suddenly dry once more, and a warm tingle spreading down my spine.
Mister Dion’s paws rested on my shoulders. “Is there a problem?”
I shook my head quickly, swallowing heavily and wishing for some water. “No, sir.”
“Why the hesitation, then?” The vole’s voice was gentle, soothing, and yet his gaze unnerved me greatly, eager and hungry.
“I—” I swallowed again and lowered my gaze. “I’m not… used to this. I was bought to serve as entertainment, not—”
“Stop there, boy,” Mister Dion interrupted quietly. “Entertainment, you said? What is this, then?”
I ducked my head. “I mean… forgive me, sir, I was… Miss Aida meant for me to be a minstrel and for her other… her girls to use for a bit of amusement, not as—” Memories of Milos’ shaft in my muzzle came to me, and my cock twitched in its sheath in response to the memory. I licked my lips, a response to their dryness. “This is… new… to me, sir.”
The vole’s eyes opened wide. “This is your first time, then?” At my nod, a wide grin settled across his muzzle. “Well, well, well.” His voice was a near-whisper. “Then this will be special for both of us. Go on, Stannis. Pull them down, nice and slow.”
I hesitated a moment, then whispered, “sir,” and slid the pants down Mister Dion’s legs; beneath, he had only a simple pair of linen breeches that came to his knees, held in place with a wide knotted strip of cloth. It took some effort and focus to loosen the tie enough for me to pull them down as well, but once undone, the final layer of clothing fell to Mister Dion’s knees, exposing his sheath. His pink shaft already rose from its home, and its tip was already slick with excitement. His musk was faint, a bit reminiscent of smoke, with a hint of sweetness. As I watched, it twitched, and a fresh drop of his arousal beaded at its tip.
Mister Dion’s paws met the back of my head, guiding my muzzle to his groin. “That’s it, boy,” he murmured encouragingly. “Nice and slow.” My stomach knotted, but I didn’t need orders to know what to do. I parted my lips and pressed them to his sheath, kissing lightly, then sliding my tongue through the short fur, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. Almost instantly, the vole snapped his teeth together, sucking air through them in a sharp hiss. “Ye-es,” he whispered encouragingly, his fingertips playing over my ears as I brought him to full arousal. “Savor this moment, boy. You won’t get another first time.”
Even if he’d permitted it, I didn’t want to explain the cook or my training. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. It only mattered for now that my owner had ordered me to serve Mister Dion, and if the idea of being my absolute first pleased him so much, then it wasn’t my place to correct him. Once his shaft was fully erect, I lifted my muzzle to its tip, kissing it gently before sliding my lips down around his length. His musk was stronger against my tongue, that sweet-smoky scent tickling my nose as I brought it closer to his groin. I closed my eyes and pushed aside the thought of his eyes as I tongued him, drawing a low moan out of the vole tightly clenched muzzle.
The vole started to claw lightly at the back of my head and around the bases of my ears as I worked. His head tilted back, his jaw clenched, and he began to trill excitedly at my attentions, his hips rocking slightly as he slid smoothly past my muzzle, now slick with his desire. Sensing his deep contentment, I started to relax and even to enjoy my efforts. My chest began to relax, and his thickening musk filled my lungs as I took a deep breath. I brought my paws up to Mister Dion’s rump, cupping the soft flesh as I pulled him deeper into my throat.
The sudden pain—a wrenching twisting jerk on top of my head—snapped me out of my reverie, my shaft retreating limply in shock. I let out an open-muzzled gasp, eyes snapping wide, and then fell backwards as Mister Dion’s paws shoved me away. His cock twitched, and a tight smile spread across Mister Dion’s face. His eyes seemed to darken, and they glittered when he spoke. “Well, well. First time, you say? No-one’s quite that kind of natural talent, boy. So, I’ll just have to find out if there’s something you haven’t done before.”
The vole stepped forward and grabbed my collar, hooking a finger into the ring at its front; Miss Aida’s sigil jingled as Mister Dion jerked me to my hinds. “Onto the bed with you, on your knees,” he said harshly. Then he shoved me again, back against the frame.
I collapsed onto the mattress with a whimper, but I still knelt as he instructed. “S—sir?” My heart, just starting to relax before, had begun to pound in my chest, and my fingers felt numb.
He clacked his claws at me with one left paw, rummaging through the chest with the other. “Quiet, boy.” All traces of warmth had vanished from his tone, leaving behind an icy whisper. “Paws behind your back.” When I complied, he grabbed my wrists roughly, and then started wrapping them together. He tugged harshly, making me wince as the rough rope tugged at my fur. He threaded it between my arms, then walked to the head of Tani’s bed. Once he had the end of the rope through one of the tethers, he pulled until my paws rose, forcing me down to the mattress, then further, until I cried out, pain shooting down my shoulders and arms.
“That should do,” Mister Dion said with a sick smile in his voice. “Spread your knees.” Without waiting, he shoved my knees apart, forcing my tail into the air, and then climbed onto the bed and knelt behind me. He put his paws on my rump, forcing me open, and then pressed his arousal against my pucker. He delicately caressed my ears with his claws and muzzle with his claws, and then his paws returned to my hips, and he drove himself forward, sinking himself into me in a single thrust.
Pain, already rippling along my back from the tight bind pulling my arms up and back, stabbed upwards from the base of my spine, and another cry ripped out of me. Mister Dion held still, letting out a deep trill. “My, my,” he groaned. “This is definitely new to you.” His paws moved to my elbows, and then he begun to withdraw, only to shove himself into me again, making me jump, and then again, over and over.
My pucker began to burn, a pain to complement the one in my shoulders, but with every thrust, it faded, bit by bit, and I felt my sheath begin to stir again as the vole forcefully took me, and fearful shock began to give way, bit by bit, to a trembling, nervous arousal. Each time Mister Dion stabbed himself into me, he brushed against something that shot pleasure up from my gut, and the grinding of my sheath against the mattress sent a matching shiver over my chest. Soon, his trills were met with my own limited whimpers as I tried to rock myself back against him, to get him to hit that magic point within me again.
“Ye-es,” Mister Dion groaned, his hips grinding rhythmically against me. His trill gave way to steady gasping, then to a tight, fast pant. “Hold fast, boy, your… first….” I let out a cry as he sunk his claws into my arms and drove himself down against me, and then his arousal flooded beneath my tail, filling me with his sticky desire. The vole shuddered, then slumped against my back. “Oh, oh… dear boy, such a joy,” he murmured, reaching forward to stroke my cheek with the back of his fingers.
I whimpered, shaking. My own arousal had been nearing its own peak, but with his release, he stopped striking that pleasure point inside of me; I was trapped beneath him, so close to my own climax but denied release. The vole cooed in response to my trembling, then slid out of me, wiping himself on my rump as he lay down beside me. “That was exhausting, but worthwhile. Good night, boy.” He smiled and delicately pressed muzzle to the side of my head as he curled up to sleep, leaving me trapped and desperate for a long and frustrating night.