Changing Ways

The strange creature lounged on her throne of dark marble, gazing sleepily at the mandala that hung from the wall.  Fingers tightly laced, eyes half closed, it almost seems to sleep, to dream, perhaps.  It does neither of those things in truth. It's mind is a constantly changing sea of dreams, and sleep is impossible for that which does not live as mortals live.  Yet it is not unfeeling, nor is it insensate, as it does live;  neither undeath nor made thing, it existed long before mortal life crawled from the muck of the seas of many worlds - though, by the standards of it's kind it iis yet a childish thing.  Slowly, three eyes widen, as the ever shifting pattern of the mandala slowly reveals what it desires, what is desired of it.  It takes a more pleasing form, one with which it's companions, it's playmates, are more familiar, more comfortable.  Slipping from the throne which dissolves into dark, iridescent muck, it comes to a decision, and immediately it is ElseWhere.

Scent, as always, precedes sound and sight, in your world.  It is after all, the single greatest sense you possess, is it not?  If nothing else, the thick perfumes of the chaos creature's presence would set your heart to beating faster, your little black nose twitching wildly.  Orchids, incense,  strange poisons and sweet drugs precede her into the room, and her smile glows from beneath triplicate eyes of dull gold.  Her horns shine, and her tail lashes slowly, with w flutter of her tightly closed membranous wings.  As you sit up, her half melody voice greets you, asks of your well being.  As always, your well being is on her mind, and today something is different, you are excited and pleased more than usual to have your strange princess come to you.  Telling her so, she smiles, and leans down for your kisses, and you oblaige willingly, licking her chin and neck, her lips.  Unlike many two legged beings, she responds in kind, delicate, ever shifting tongue of coral pink lapping back at yours, tracing your silky muzzle and grooming your ears, which flick as they are tickled.

She slowly kneels - which is the first hint something is indeed different, for she is usually sitting upon the couch with you, petting and caressing.  not this time.  She slides  from her belt a single length of silver chain, delicate and chiming softly.  This she attaches to the collar, the collar she made for you one evening as you and she played at teasing one another with your dreams and fantasies.  Her voice is a soft whisper, less command than invitation, despite the leash.

"Heel, my lovely one,"  she murmurs to you, sending a thrill down your spine that makes your bushy tail wave in anticipation.  What is it that your would be mistress, you friend, wishes to show you today?  Perhaps another lovely sculpture, perhaps a painting or a drawing, for she is an artist, and while perhaps not the best, her love for the work makes it a thing of beauty anyway.  You pad next to her, tail held high, as those others who live here smile indulgently or enviously, as suits them.  Your longtime companion smiles, her glittering eye closing in a wink as her chinadoll face slowly breaks into a knowing smile.  she makes her way to the room of viewing, where she may observe what occurs.

For your mistress is leading you down the corridor, the rooms of transformations on either side of you beckoning, but none has drawn her interest yet.  Your heart begins to beat quick within your chest, and your tongue slips from your muzzle in soft pants, as you realize with growing excitement her destination, your destination.  the room at the very end of the corridor, the room containing...

The Carousel. Your carousel.  It had been made for you, for your dreams and desires, and the empty places upon it hold poles for entrapping those who enjoy such delicate pleasures as giving themselves over to the joy of children or little ones who desire to ride the strange and magical beasts that decorate it.  Bright lights and colored glass, mirrors and soft music have played here, and on some occasions, it has been you, held fast by the transfixing poles, giving to your master or mistress a ride for their pleasure.  You almost wriggle in anticipation, and a loving, laughing glance from your mistress forces you to hold your dignity.  She kneels once more, tracing your muzzle with one of those three delicate, chemise soft fingers.  You lap at them in excitement, and she giggles softly.  "Be still, my lovely fox."  And so you do hold still, though it is hard to contain your excitement.

She moves to a pole, gazing at it, and her three eyes change, glowing softly with iridecense, looking more like opals trapped within whiteness, framed by her creamy skin and coppery locks.  The tiny horns almost shine as she caresses the metal of the pole and the Changing begins.  It flows like water, like clay within her seeming delicate touch.  It splits, a widening gap forming within the pole, and this she opens wide, spreading the metal apart.  Slowly and implacably, her hands and tail move to separate and guide the metal, forming a large open square in the pole, large enough that a carousel beast and rider may fit within an not fear touching or striking themselves against the hard metal.  you quiver in delight, knowing those hands will soon be touching, caressing, playing in your fur, your flesh.  She has finished, and now beckons once more.  You move to obey, knowing that finally, one more dream, perhaps two, will come to fruition.

The creature born of primal chaos gestures, and murmurs melodiously, "Up, my love!"  She gestures through the 'hoop' formed of metal, and you hasten to obey leaping for the hole.  With a start, you realize you have stopped, been stopped, by some force, suspended in the middle of that gaping square, as though trapped by the pole, suspended by nothing at all.  A startled yip slips past your lips, but her hands are there, soothing, caressing your neck, your muzzle.  "Hush, my love.  Be thee still."  You quiet, relaxing, under those delicate touches in your fur, against your warm skin.  Slowly she runs delicate both hands down your body, caressing sides and legs warmly.  Yet a third:  her tail, the twin prongs sliding something supple and black against your body.  Leather, you scent, and with excitement you know she intends to ensure you do not struggle overmuch.

Slowly, gently, the leather is strapped about each hind paw, tying them together with utmost care.  A buckle, you head, chiming softly.  It is an effort not to squirm with pleasure as she slides twin lengths along each leg, and begins to buckle a second strap at the bend of your hind legs.  Then a third buckling, but this one is more intimate.  Her fingers trace along the backs of each leg, tail guiding the leather straps, until she reaches your beautiful tail.  with great care and delicacy, she proceeds to slide the leather sheath about the closest three inches of your tail, her fingertips just grazing the soft, warm spots you love to have scratched just above it's silky length.  As she snaps the tail harness in place with her lovely tail, her fingers are already guiding the straps about your hips, underneath you, buckling it there as well, forcing your tail high and proud.  a soft giggle emerges from behind you as you whine in frustration, for her hands have left you once more.  "Do hush, my lovely one.  You will be treated well."  You quiet, a bit abashed, with your impatience so gently admonished.  Then soft leather once more wraps about your legs, this time your forepaws, gently lacing about and between them, slowly twining to the lowest bend.  You wriggle experimentally.  Tight, firm, but not constrictive, you may wriggle and thrash, should you so desire, but escape, no.  Even if you could break this spell that holds you suspended, the flutter of your racing heart and the warmth in your belly would forbid it.

She steps in front of you, holding yet more leather straps and binding, but these you recognize.  Your bridle and muzzle, a gift from a previous master, jewels and bells shining, making soft music in her hands.  She leans close, licking your muzzle gently as she slowly slides the soft leather about it, her perfumed breath making you ache for her, ache for your princess.  The flush of her cheeks and rise of her breasts, the scent of her through silk informs you of her own ache, and your heart is fit to burst with the joy it feels.  Gently, she slides your bridle into place, but her fingers part your muzzle tenderly, and the addition she has placed in your bridle becomes apparent.  A ring of hard leather is placed in your jaws, placed behind your canines, holding your muzzle parted for her, and she slips her tongue into that ring, to lick your own.  You respond with delicate laps and kisses of your own, and she shares in the joy, even as her fingers and tail tighten the straps about your head, your neck, your ears.  The soft chime of the bells upon your harnesses make music as you wriggle in your pleasure.

Regretfully she withdraws, and gazes upon you, eyes shining brightly in iridescent pinks.  She is more than merely pleased, you can see, and this is revealed even further as she slowly divests herself of black silk and golden bells.  Skyclad as shi is, you are reminded once more that your mistress is more than female, though shi is still feminine and sweet - hir masculinity a thing of delicacy and grace, the soft sheath between hir legs swelling faintly, the coral pink of the organ within peeking for you, even as hir nipples are peaked.  Lacking testes, the shine of hir feminine places again shows how pleased, how enraptured shi is by you, by your desires.  One soft, delicate hand rises to hir breast, three delicate fingers and hir thumb caressing the small swell, tracing hir nipple, and causing a droplet of iridescence to fall from it.  Lips parted slightly as shi sighs with pleasure, a single step brings hir close, and hir other hand and tail guide your head to the gentle slopes.  You tentatively lick the offered mound, tongue slipping from the muzzle to caress, to taste the spicy sweet nectar that shi produces for you.  Now both hands move to hold your head to hir breast, as you lap and taste.  The strange liquid burns your throat with it's spice, warms your stomach with it's sweetness, and sends you mind spinning, as your heart throbs with adoration.  Hir soft, breathy sighs excite you further, and your paws come up to press on hir chest, as you crane your neck, tilting your head to lap more effectively at the nub that disgorges hir bounty for you.

Slowly shi steps away, and your head swims, the strange, drugged nectar burning through your veins.  Your mistress has not finished, however, and pulls your head close to hir other breast, fingertips, tail tracing your ears, your silky lips as you suckle anew.  Then it truly begins, as shi traces your velvet fur...hir fingers trace and lengthen, stroke and shift the flesh, the sensitive skin, molding your muzzle though the bridle, with the bridle...gentle pulls and presses, forming and shaping your bones and flesh, painlessly - but not without sensation.  Raw, undiluted pleasure, from intimate caresses not merely along the surface but within your skin, as shi transforms your muzzle.  It becomes longer, more sensitive, your lips melding into one another.  Your tongue never ceases it's lapping at the warm trickle, until shi pulls away.  You gaze up into the ruby triplicate, deep, abyssal wells of pupilless red gems.  They shine with iridescence, her power full and grand as shi shapes, molds.  Fingers slip inside, along your muzzle, shaping the canine jaws into a sheathe, fur covered and rounded, teeth pressed back into the soft flesh of your mouth, to be slid along bones and removed from your mouth with gentle pressures and oh so lovely caresses.  Tongue becomes broader, longer, and the caress of hir thumbs pulls a nub of flesh to the front of your newly created sheath-mouth.

Hir fingers do not cease their manipulation, as they mold flesh and nerves, making the soft muzzle, the delicate flesh of your mouth even thicker, less firm, tight and soft, a bare vertical slit at the very tip, complete with a tiny nub just under your delicate, sensitive nose.  You scent your own self from your muzzle, not the scent of your lips or breath, but your sex, for that is what shi has given you, in place of a mouth.  Then shi draws you close, once more, offering herself to you, guiding those newly transformed lips to hir hard nipple.  Obediently, you lap, tongue darting forth to taste more of that spicy sweet, heady nectar...shi gasps, aroused even further by hir work, your compliance...then your lips make contact, and you are gratified to discover you can suckle truly now, despite the leather melded into your flesh.  In fact, the melding has given the soft leather a new dimension, that of sensation, a warmth and sensitivity as though it were part of you.  Greedily, you suckle, the soothing warmth of her drugged milk burning, warming, soothing.

Gently your princess pull away, as hir hands cease their caressing, and shi breathes heavily, staring into your eyes with desire so potent it could perhaps kill the unwary.  You do not fear, for you know it is your desire that drives hir, and your desires are strong, unwavering.  In this respect, it is you who master hir, and shi accepts this without question, even as you accept hir commands without question, trust and love the guide for each of you, each of your communications and movements.  It is this which guides hir to your rear legs, and you tremble, knowing what shi must do, knowing what must come next.  Slowly, hir hands caress your sides, your flanks, teasing traces along your tail and back.  They pause, massaging warmly, thumbs just brushing your nether places, as shi gathers her power and thoughts to the work.  Then a long, slow stroke, as hir fingers slide deep into your flesh, bringing a muffled chirrup from your muzzlesex.  Your legs shift, melding together slowly, with each long, languorous stroke, each deep caress sliding through muscle and down to bone, merging them, making your two legs into one.  This is but the beginning.  You squirm as hir fingers slide along, through your sex, your tailstar, shifting them, bolts of pleasure crashing through your body even as shi unforms them, transforms them.

Slowly it takes shape, smooth as shining scales replace warm red fur.  Muscular, strong, you wave the thick , serpentine tail slowly, shuddering as hir deep caresses send fearsome bolts of pleasure through your body.  Hir fingers trace your paws now, stretching, teasingly tickling, drawing the bones long and thing, the flesh between them stretching and wide, until you posses the tail of a great fish, rainbows striking out from silver scales, leather bands jingling as you swim in place.  Your sex gone, yet the sensitivity still present, unformed, but potent, your arousal the equal of your mistress'.  Hir wings unfurl, the webbed membranes stretched between thin ribs like fingers, sliding about your lower body, wrapping, pulling, enfolding and drawing, lengthening.  Finally shi is finished, and she breathes deeply, running fingers along the leather harness, until shi reaches your back once more, and leans close to lick your ears, tickling, kissing.  Your foxtail still held high, - a sharks fin of red fur, to brush against your rider's back.  You flip the newly formed mertail, a squeak of pleasure at the loving kiss that is hir favorite tease with you - the movement send your bells chiming, clear and beautiful.

Now shi begins work on your saddle, and you turn your head to watch, seeing the deep blush and the unfettered desire in hir expression.  Your very flesh becomes harder, as shi presses your ribs aside, curving them inwards, her tail sliding deep into your belly to guide organs out of danger, the most intimate pleasure in her caresses within and without your body.  You shudder, as shi traces wet places, places hot and deep inside you.  Then electricity, a jolt of intense pleasure as shi lays a kiss along your spine, tongue tracing the softness of your fur, the gentle run of bone there.  Hir hands manipulate and move, creating from your living flesh a saddle for your rider, hard and strong, yet warm and living still, sensitive and firm.  Along the center, however, shi leaves a strip of velveteen fur, as red as your forequarters and head, and you lap at your own muzzlesex excitedly, eliciting a pleasure almost the equal of what shi gives with that electrifying kiss.  Then hir tongue presses, hir fingers sliding to join her mouth along that slice of fur at your spine, your saddle.  It laps, licks, and then slides in, forming, creating.

The surge of pleasure hir penetration creature is intense, loving.  The untethered pleasure centers created by hir transformation of your hindquarters into mertail now has a focus, a location.  Even as shi probes and slicks, hir fingers form, transform, molding into your saddle-spine a sex, delicate and feminine, even as your muzzle has become.  Hir deeply probing tongue tastes, laps, and slides deep, writhing and sliding within your depths, forming into your very bones and spinal cord, delving and creating a place for a male rider to enjoy, or the tribadic femme's pleasure perhaps.  Deep in your belly hir tail slides, moves, up, almost to meet with tongue and fingers as they form a delicate and feminine orchid in your saddle.  Then out, through your back, but not through your skin.  Bone and flesh move at your mistress' desire, twin prongs sliding up and through, forming behind the sweet orchid shi still laps -  for a brief moment strictly pleasuring - and then hir tongue slides from your feminnine slit in the leather of your saddleback.  Fingers and mouth move, caressing, lapping, nuzzling the twin prongs, sheathed in your own flesh, and she begins more manipulation of your body.

This time, hir desires are intense, and the bolt of raw pleasure as hir lips slide over one prong is indescribable.  Hir fingers slowly press hir tail from that length of flesh, her tongue and lips forcing the other out, but they remain hard and stiff, slowly becoming slick and firm, hard lengths...a tendril of hir tongue slides to the tip of the length shi suckles, and drives in , boring a hole into it.  The pleasure from this is like nothing you could describe, nothing you have ever felt, and hir tail begins work inside your wet, hot places again.  Forming, moving, creating in you the sensations and potentials of maleness for your saddle, as well as female now.  Hir mouth works upon the first length as it would a males, slow, deliberate sliding of wet, slick flesh around silky, smooth masculinity.  You begin to lap in earnest at the tiny nub above your muzzlesex, and you can feel the slow build of your pleasure.  Hir tongue slides from within and about your fist maleness, and hir fingers trace it slowly, leaving you wanting, unfulfilled.  Only then does shi deliver a second such pleasure, raising your desires and intensifying your experience twofold.  Hir tail still moves deep in you, thrusting, pleasuring, even as tongue and lips mold and form, shape a second maleness, only little smaller than the first.  Just upon the edge of your sweet release, shi pulls hir lips from you, and hir tail snakes from deep inside - clean and dry, despite where it has been, and gently touches the lips of your muzzle sex, preventing fulfillment and release.  Slowly your mistress steps away, to observe hir handiwork.

A beautiful merfox, harnessed in black leather, decorated with bows and jewels, ready to be ridden. Saddled of living flesh, a single stripe of red fur along the darkened leathery flesh revealing a feminine orchid, sensitive and sweet, and two masculine ones just after, ripe and full;  behind the saddle rises a full, beautiful foxtail, held high by the leather straps.  A playful smile glows from hir adoring face, as shi ties three bows along the soft fur of your tail, blue, white, and blue, making  it even more striking and proud.  Then your long, silvery fishtail, still bound by lovely dark leather, tight and firm against your movements, bells and jewels glittering with each wave.  Your front paws bound together by bell decorated leather, the bridle which surrounds a length of muzzle lacking in mouth, only the slender lips of a feminine sex opening from the end, your beautiful eyes gaze shyly at her loving, wonder filled gaze;   shi moves back to you, to tie further bows, one about each ear, and another along your muzzle, these blues, green.  Yet another bow about the leather just above your paws,  bright and gay, and shi runs a hand along the bells down your side and chest from the harness about your mertail and forelegs.  Shi sighs, shivering in anticipation...and then pauses, hir eyes glittering with new inspiration...

Slowly shi moves to stand before you, and slowly runs both hands along the ruff of fur at your chest, fingers sliding lovingly along the leather straps of your harness.  Then you feel twin spikes of intense pleasure - perhaps the drugged nectar you have pulled from her nipples causing your own to respond so strongly.  Shi smiles at you, and nuzzles you gently, hir copper locks tickling your muzzlesex gently as shi pulls and tweaks, massages...and causes your teats to grow, becoming full, ripe, soft breasts under hir gentle manipulation, pleasure washing through you as shi teases.  Then hir hands slip lower, to your second set, and shi again pulls, presses, kneads.  You whine happily as shi grows for you yet a third set of lovely, gentle breasts, softly furred in your velvet coat, sensitive nipples all hard and taut.  With a quick, gentle, and oh so intense lick of your muzzlesex, shi takes more brightly colored silk bows, and ties one about each hardened nipple, soft silk moving gently against your sensitive nipples and hir warm, loving fingertips caressing each in turn.  When you think you can no longer stand it, shi pulls away, finished at last.

Gazing upon you, hir eyes glowing crimson with unfulfilled desires of her own - you had almost forgotten, in your own pleasures and hir teases, that shi has not had release either - shi steps forward, breaths quick.  Your heart triphammers in your chest, knowing finally, shi is ready to give you what you desire most of all, what shi desires most of all, freely and with love.  Hir hands gently take your muzzle, and shi kisses you, deeply, lovingly, tongue slowly, almost tentatively seeking your own inside that lush, warm, tight sex of your mouth.  Hir soul kiss is intimate, gentle, but no less desperate for your response.  And respond you do. Lapping, pressing your muzzlesex into that kiss, your paws come up...to brush against hir maleness, the fully risen organ pulsing softly at the mild touch.  You shift a little in the leather, taking it between your paws, stroking slowly...and then the music starts.

Slowly, you rise up and down as the carousel turns, your paws helplessly stroking hir maleness as shi kisses you, a desperate, pleasure filled noise erupting from deep in hir throat.  Hir tongues probe, lick, and shi moves hir lips against the delicate orchid of your mouth, brushing oh so lovingly against the tiny nub with tongue and lips.  Beautiful music surrounds you both, your bells chiming softly, jewels glittering in the lights of the roundabout.  Shi parts her lips a bit more as you sink on the non-pole which holds you fast in place, tongues squirming as shi takes the end of your muzzlesex into her mouth, lightly sliding it between hir lips, almost fellating...but her tongue works inside, licking, tasting of your muzzlesex deeply, a tendril of that wonderful tongue slipping around the delicate nub that responds by delivering a wave of intense pleasure as you sink lower, moving down with the music...then rising once more, pulling hir maleness from your paws, hir mouth from your muzzlesex, tongues slipping from it.  Hir desire, her timid, perhaps confused lusts, evident, as hir desires have been fulfilled - shi seems to know not what she truly feels or desire.  You, however, know exactly what is desired, what your lovely princess needs.

Slowly, you lower your muzzle, tongue snaking from the orchid of it's sex to lap at each delicate nipple of hir small, firm breasts.  Shi shivers, gasping at the sensation, as a trickle of hir iridescent milk is pulled from her.  Your paws once again come to rest, leathery pads sliding along hir malesex, caressing it's silky, pulsing warmth.  You suckle a moment more, before lapping at hir other breast.  Hir hands shift, caressing your ears, tracing the silk bow, the leather bridle, sensitive as it is your flesh now.  Then you slip hir nipple from your suckling muzzlesex, and lower it slowly...paws sliding down, to slip that bow between legs that shi parts almost unthinkingly,  allowing you to move the silken bow along hir inner thighs.  As you sink lower from the carousel's implacable movement, your muzzle slides over hir maleness, and shi gasps, eyes wide and bright, shock evident in hir pleasure.  Down, down, until hir entire length, delicate rather than overbearingly large, comes to rest for a few seconds in your sweet muzzlesex.

But the carousel does not come to rest.  It forces you to rise, your muzzle rising with it, until only the very tip of hir maleness is trapped inside the delicate flower of your muzzle.  However, this also slips the silken bow tied about your paws - as sensitive as your own tongue, as warm and delicate - up, along hir thighs, to caress hir feminine place, eliciting a soft gasp and causing hir to flutter hir wings in surprised pleasure.  Ribbons of the bow become caught in the soft, silken folds of hir femmesex, remaining as the intangible - but oh so inescapable! - pole slides you down, leaving hir gasping as your muzzlesex enfolds hir once more, soft, wet, inviting hir pleasure to intensify, even as your own grows.  Up, and the bow caresses, teases open hir folds and petals, down, your own petals and folds surrounding hir fully...then up, as shi arches back, the twin pleasures intense, luscious...your own heightening slowly.  It is hir maleness that erupts first however, sending warm, spicy sweet liquid into your muzzle, coating it, filling you...shi cries out, inarticulate in hir orgasm, her hands sliding down to caress your muzzle even as it rises, pulling pleasure from hir.  Delicate, seeking fingertips caress...trace and touch the nub of your ,muzzlesex, even as the bow rises into hir own femmesex..hir orgasm crashes back, and those teasing delicate touches become intense, inescapable, as you feel your bow slip into wet, moist loving place, caressing...a gentle brush across the nub of your muzzlesex causes your own pleasure to explode, even as bow and muzzlesex trade places once more making your princess cry out, fall back, from the stimulation.

Shi gasps, staring at you, and your eyes smile, your tongue beckoning to hir.  Slowly, hir eyes move up, along your bejeweled leather and bows, to the saddle, so inviting, so ready for your princess.  You can see that it never occurred to hir that hir place would be upon that saddle, though shi designed it for such as shi;  your princess naive and loving, made you as you most desired to be, simply out of love and affection, a desire to please you.  But now your desire, is to please hir, be hir beautiful toy, pleasure hir as only the most beloved of toys may.  The carousel ceases in it's movement.  Slowly, shi moves to your side, gently rubbing your flank, teasingly caressing the bows and jewels and leather that bind you and make you proud.  Shi carefully steps up, raising herself on stirrups formed from your very flesh, toes curling slightly about them as shi lifts herself above the soft, warm places made for hir alone, designed for hir by your desire and hir hands.  Slowly, gently, shi begins to sit, reaching back with tail, with hands, to guide herself and you into her, into you...

Oh, to have your princess held so, deep inside her!  How to describe the warmth of your maleness slipping into those slick depths prepared by the bow of your paws, until her moist nether lips are pressed tightly to the soft fur that lines the center of your saddle!  Her tailstar gently spread, tight and hot, slipping you gently into her derriere!  And then her own maleness, sliding deep into your femmesex, soft, moist lips pressed tightly against her sheath, and she lies atop you, hands draping about your sides to grip so gently a par of your breasts, tail wrapping about your reins!  To have your beloved princes to ride you, after so long a wait, so desperate a need to fulfill.  Shi whimpers in pleasure-pain as you take hir virginity from hir so carefully, take your princess in the manner only the most loved may, and you turn back, to nuzzle hir.  Hir face lifts, tears of joy shining in those bright triplicate eyes, gazing upon you with adoration.  Hir lips and yours meet, and you kiss...then the music begins once more.

Slowly the music rises, and slowly you rise, and move in hir.  Shi cries out, tightening around you twice over, pulsing in you as hir body is held in place, the organs growing as you rise...the kiss deepens, hir hands kneading your full, warm breasts, loosing the warm milk within and over your chest.  Hir desperation and need finally fulfilled, your own granted at last, as you sink, the organs deep within your princess retreating, the warmth of your feminine places tightening about hir.  Muscles within you slide about hir masculine organ as you rise again, the maleness of your saddle sliding deep inside hir twice, into the tight and hot, slick and warm.  Shi makes a muffled noise into the kiss, hir tongues twined with yours, lips moving against the sensitive folds of your muzzlesex.  Stroking, fondling, the tail-held reins pulling your muzzle tightly to hir lips, shi shudders, the deep sensations of hir sex in you, your sexes in hir, tongues and lips meshing tightly, lovingly...those softly glowing orbs gazing through you, into you, adoration, love, pride...as you lower once more, shi holds tight to your breasts, feeling you in hir, around hir, and whimpers, as your own pleasure crests...you slide out, slide around, kiss hir deeply, your foxtail brushing her back suddenly, caressing the soft places between hir wings.

Perhaps it is the rising of you into hir and along hir that does it;  perhaps the caress of your warm tail against hir back...but truth be told, it is the worship you have for hir, the willingness to be hirs, that causes it.  Your bodies merely echoes what hir heart feels, what your heart feels, what your hearts share.  The movements of your maleness in hir deep, tight and hard, the tightening of your feminine places about hir maleness, about hir tongue, the eruption deep inside hir of your malesexes as you spill forth shining seed deep into hir tightness and her softness...the rapid convulsions of your muzzlesex and your femmesex about hir tongue, about hir length, all at once - shi cries out, unable to resist any longer the overpowering tidal wave of raw, undiluted love!  Shi releases, as you release, your rhythms matching as shi moves against you, over you, in you, your own movements uncontrolled, but hirs voluntary, loving you, being loved by you.  Finally, shi collapses against you, panting, as you lick and nuzzle, caressing with fishtail and foxtail your beautiful princess, your beloved mistress, knowing you have served as only the most loved, most wondrous toy and pet can serve.

Xerxes