Snow fell softly onto the rooftops of the grand city. Winter had come, but the streets remained cheery with lamps lit at every corner and in front of every doorway. The mothers were ushering their children back into the houses for supper, while the fathers and young adults returned from a good day’s labor. The cobblestone roads that wound through the city were lost under the blankets of white, spotted from footsteps here and there.

It wasn’t long before the streets became empty. All was still and peaceful. Unbeknownst to the regular citizens of the city, a very special celebration was coming close to beginning. The echo’s of hooves and crunching snow bounced across the walls, hushed by a slight wind. The destination was a large building near the center of town, jointly owned by numerous wealthy families, all sharing one very special connection. That building shone the brightest on that night, for the hour of the Slavier’s Winter Ball had arrived.

 

 

One by one the carriage way in front of the Ball House was filled. The carriages were pulled not only by feral beasts, with glazed, tame looks in their eyes, but by anthros as well. Strong ones, from horses and bulls to bears and rams, their dress varying from nude to completely encased. However, their eyes all matched that of the ferals; glazed, docile, simple.

From the carriage stepped members of the wealthiest houses, their clothes elegant and well made. It was considered bad taste to appear in any training clothes during a gathering, though there was no objection to wearing said outfits underneath their formal clothing. Nearly all of them were escorted, and their escorts were often dressed quite differently. Some stepped out of the carriages with nothing on except for a collar and perhaps wrist restrains, guided along by leashes of leather or chain while shivering from the fridged air. Others were held in bondage suits, straps attached to metal rings across their bodies, some more intricate and restrictive than others, hobbling speech, sight, walking and even the movement of tails. A few were completely enclosed in suits of leather or colorful rubber, and some were lucky enough to be dressed somewhat decently, their eyes filled with naïve pride and child-like joy. Gender, species, age, it did not matter within this exclusive sphere. All that mattered was whether you were the one with the leash in your paw or the one with the collar around your neck.

The main hall was nothing short of beautiful as the guests entered, one by one, their slaves following in groups of two or three or half a dozen. Four chandeliers of bright quality candles hung from the ceiling, lighting the room so that nary a shadow could be found. Impressive tapestries, perhaps generations old, hung from the walls. Carpets of excellent and expensive weave covered the floor, with numerous round tables and carved chairs placed about for the guests to relax themselves and enjoy well prepared food on command.

All of the guests had provided a certain number of their slaves to work as the staff for that evening. Cooks in the kitchen were chained by their ankles to their individual stations, and monitored for behavior and proper food preparation, with punishments to ensue for taking too long or complaints from the one who ordered. The servers were all wearing proper maid uniforms, with no concern for their gender, all of them a festive red and blue instead of the traditional black and white. The organizers had decided together that sex with the servers would not be permitted to any of the guests, the same it had been for many years, due to the servers tending to collapse from exhaustion toward the end of the festivities. However, any and all fondling, petting, and touching that were non-penetrating in manner were perfectly within the rights of the guests, and they made sure to make good use of that right. Already, soft yelps and whimpers could be heard as tender rubs and light swats arrived on many a servant’s behind.

The party was soon in full swing. Masters were smiling and laughing amongst themselves dining on fine food and showing their escort slaves off. Gossip and training techniques were conversed until a certain guest arrived, and then the whispered talk shifted onto him.

The black panther stood tall as he entered, wearing a navy blue suit with gold trimmings and a white cravat. His golden eyes scanned the crowd slowly as his smiling muzzle issued cordial greetings to those he passed. They, of course returned the greetings while their eyes focused on the young male’s escorts.

Both of the slaves were young, barely eighteen years of age. Their dress and their behavior, however, suggested children much younger. The one on his right was a short hair ferret, her fur downy white and her eyes a lovely lavender. Her face was clean of makeup, her head fur grown down to her shoulders in a light, springy curl, and a pair of pink pearl earrings in her ears. The female wore a child’s party dress, rosy red with white trim, with puffy shoulders and dainty petticoats under her skirt. White tights ran up her legs, with rows of lacy frills across the rump. Black Mary Jane sandals were fit with silver buckles on her feet, and a purple collar sat around her neck with a silver ID plate.

The one to his left was a male gray squirrel, his head fur kept as short as the rest of his fur and his eyes a bright brown. He wore a white dress shirt with a green vest buttoned over it, a pair of black shorts and a black bow tie. Long green socks rode up to his knees and a pair of black dress shoes with neatly tied laces were on his feet. The young male wore a bright green collar with a similar ID plate to the ferrets.

The panther took his two slaves over to a free table and sat down with them. As he motioned to one of the servants padding about, a pair of female slaviers from a nearby table watched him with interested eyes.

“So, the latest focus of the gossip circles has arrived. The up and coming feline slavier with a strange taste in his pets.” Stated Delia, a tan cat with three thick lines of red running from her forehead down back to her tail. The feline wore a sensually cut gown of wine red material, sleeveless with long, wide slits running from her hips to her sleek outer ankles. She was a pet slavier, her specialty being single breed or ‘wild’ anthros. Sitting obediently on the floor besides her were a pair of her finest works, a silver wolf and a white tiger, both males. Their fur gleamed from hours of washing and brushing and they sat at attention, hoping to look as best as possible for their mistress.

“Yes, a mister Avm…” replied her companion, an elder skunk in a particularly lavish dress named Megan. “However, I wouldn’t say his tastes are strange, Delia. Many that I train find themselves wearing very juvenile uniforms.” Megan trained service slaves, who were primarily taught to be obedient and be knowledgeable in numerous household activities. Those she didn’t keep she sold or traded, like over half the other slaviers within the building that night. It was very good profit, and helped provide funds for further training and supplies. She was also the biggest donator for the service and cooking for that evening.

“It’s not the clothing, dear lady, but what they wear under it that’s strange.” Delia replied with a sly chuckle, stroking her tiger’s head.

“Hmm? What’s under? How do you mean?” the skunk replied curiously.

“Those two lovely little things are wearing diapers.” The cat purred. Megan blinked in surprise, and then snapped her fingers. One of the servants quickly walked over to her, and was given some hushed instructions. She walked off and passed by Avm’s table, then took the long way around to return to her mistress and whisper in her ear.

“You’re sure?” Megan asked.

“Yes, Mistress. They both carry the scent of talcum powder, and their bottoms bulge quite a bit.”

“I see… that will be all.” She replied, waving off the female.

“Don’t trust me enough, madam?” Delia inquired politely, taking a sip from a glass of sparkling cider. Slaviers often avoided alcohol, since showing a loss of control in front of their slaves or fellow slaviers could often lead to very unfortunate results.

“We are masters of manipulation, my dear.” Megan replied with a good natured smile before looking back off toward Avm’s table. “So… he treats his slaves like children?”

“The majority, from infants to toddlers to very young children. He keeps a good number of them as adults, though, to help him take care of the others.” Delia informed, her finger trailing around her tiger’s ear.

“You seem very well informed on all of this.” The skunk said.

Delia smiled at Avm’s back. “I had one of my pets make a small scouting of his manor.”

“Indeed? Hmm… a curious fetish to say the least.” Megan replied. “Perhaps we should invite him to join us?”

“That sounds like a lovely idea.” Delia purred.

Megan smiled and called over another one of her servants over, and then sent her over to Avm’s table to invite him over to their table.

Moments later, the black panther arrived, his two escorts following with leashes attached to their collars.

“Good evening, ladies.” Avm said with a bow, his golden eyes glowing cheerfully at the two of them. “Miss Megan, the service from your servants here is top notch. Miss Delia, I do hope next time you take a tour of my manor instead of your pet.”

Delia looked a little surprised at the discovery of her intrusion, but not too much. Megan was allowing herself a small smile, always enjoying complements to her servants. As Avm sat himself, he tugged on the leashes and instructed “Go on, introduce yourselves.”

They nodded and the ferret went first, stepping forward and giving a lovely little curtsy. “Hello. My name is Darla. It’s very lovely to meet you.” She cooed her voice innocent and sweet.

The squirrel boy stepped forward next and bowed politely before saying “My name is Stephen. A pleasure to make your aqu… aquin…” he blushed as he struggled to find the word.

“Acquaintance.” Avm said with a smile.

“Thank you sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The young male said with a smile.

“Very good. Stephen, sit by Miss Delia. Darla, by Miss Megan. I expect you both to make the evening nicer through your presence.” Avm instructed, removing their leashes. The two of them quickly obeyed, seating themselves close to the two females, who watched their new neighbors with interest.

“What a lovely child, Avm.” Megan complemented, trailing her fingers around Darla’s ears. “I can see you’ve put a great deal of effort into her care. Silky fur, healthy weight… I’m sure most people would mistake her for a child of fourteen at first sight, if not younger.”

“Why thank you. I make sure to feed my pets a very specific diet aimed toward retaining a youthful look and tone to their bodies.” The black panther replied.

“There doesn’t seem to be much progress when it comes to manners, however.” Delia stated, giving Stephen a look most unamused. “Tell me, boy, do you think you’ll stop ogling at my breasts any time soon?”

The squirrel blushed bright and was about to say something, but the tiger was standing before him and had a paw around his throat, cutting off his air while growling dangerously.

“Oh Miss Delia, forgive the poor boy. He doesn’t ogle under the crude assumption he could ever bed you.” Avm purred lightly, not appearing worried at all that his pet was being choked.

“And what, pray tell, could be on his mind otherwise?” she asked, her tone dark. Delia was not one to believe she was on display for others fantasies. The only ones she trusted to worship her lovely body were her pets, for she knew their minds were purified of the thought that they could ever be worthy enough to make love to her without blessing. Even then, she refused them orgasm, using restraints to hold their rods stiff and tall while she rode them for her pleasure and hers alone. Not one of her pets had ever been given the privilege to so much as leak a drop of precum into her, and she certainly wasn’t going to let this impudent rodent stare at her body like he had a right to.

Avm simply smiled as he told her “He’s hungry.”

Delia raised an eyebrow, her emotions unreadable for the moment. She gave a small motion to the tiger, who let go of the squirrel’s neck before holding his face a foot away from the cat’s.

“Is your master right?” she asked him, her eyes delving into his. There would be no lies from her.

After giving a few small coughs, Stephen looked into her eyes with innocence and respect. “Yes ma’am.” He said, no flicker of doubt or deception in his soft eyes.

Delia’s temper soothed, and her interest became perked. “So, what WE’RE you thinking then?” she asked, stroking his chin lightly.

Stephen gave a shy smile, but continued to look into her eyes as he stated “That your milk must taste lovely, as rich and delicious as you are lovely and proud. That anyone who you permit suckle upon them should serve you eternally to repay you for such a gift.”

“Mmm… and would you do that? Abandon your Master for a suck at my breast?” she purred softly, almost lustily to him.

Stephen did not hesitate, his eyes still free of lies. “No, not at all. Simply love me the way you love your other dear pets. That would be all the incentive I would need to obey your every word.” He said sweetly to her.

Delia smiled, and then laughed lightly. “I’ll keep that in mind should I ever hope to collect, little one. Slash, put the boy back in his seat, then place your head in my lap.” She ordered.

The tiger placed Stephen back in his seat, gave him a glare of warning, then sat himself next to his Mistress and laid his head in her lap, soon closing his eyes in peace as she stroked his head. The wolf continued to keep an eye on Stephen, to make sure he behaved himself and kept his eyes on the table before him.

A set of servants arrived at that moment, passing around a few drinks and meals. Delia cut off a small slice of her roasted turkey and offered it to Slash. He sniffed at it thoroughly, checking for poison or drugs, before eating it gratefully and taking his head off her lap so she could enjoy her meal. Megan did not need to check her food, for she knew it had been monitored by her own loyal servants from start to finish. Delia’s pets were given bowls of meaty stew by her side, while both of Avm’s slaves were given what appeared to be large bottles of milky formula to drink. This didn’t really surprise them as much as Avm, who had prepared his coffee casually, without any worry of hidden threat, before drinking it with relish. This was an easy path down a bad road among slaviers. You could never know who would want to try to claim you for themselves, but apparently Avm was unworried by such things.

“Mmm… A lovely brew.” He purred lightly to himself.

Megan became more interested in the confident panther. She hid her thoughts about him well, but the ones about the young ferret girl next to her… those were a little harder to keep in check. She could feel her eyes give quick glances to Darla, watching her sit, smile, brush out her skirt, and now starting to nurse at her bottle.

“Child, come here.” The skunk said lightly, beckoning Darla over while taking a hold of a napkin. The mink toddled over to her with her bottle in her paws, looking mildly curious as she stood before Megan. The elder slavier tied two ends of the napkin behind Darla’s neck and under her collar, saying “We wouldn’t want to spill anything onto that lovely dress of yours, would we?”

Darla smiled brightly and giggled, before mewing “Thank you, Miss Megan.”, and returning to her seat.

Megan sighed softly, her thoughts drifting to her granddaughter. The skunk slavier had given birth to a daughter many years before, a daughter who took more pleasure in pottery than in slavery. At first, she’d tried to ease her daughter into following in her footsteps, but her lack of enthusiasm and her personality had led Megan to give up. she was a little more than disappointed at the loss of an heir to her legacy, but she loved her daughter dearly, and focused only on making her happy.

She’d grown into a fine woman, married a good male (Megan chuckled, recalling her threats to reduce him to a panty wearing maid and selling him to a whore house should he ever hurt her child), and had given birth to her own child. Jessica was her name, and she was a lovely girl, just three years of age and still in diapers like Darla. Megan had sworn to her daughter that she would keep Jessica out of the slavier business, and she was required not to have any of her slaves around her when she visited, as well as not to bring Jessica to her own home.

It hurt her a little, never being able to have her granddaughter come over for a visit, but she understood and respected her daughter’s wishes. Seeing Darla before her in her best, however, rekindled those old feelings of bringing Jessica to her home, having every one of her personal servants adore the child, pampering her with a dozen of her best slaves, perhaps teaching her the proper commands that every servant must be taught…

Megan sighed with a little weariness, shaking those thoughts from her head. Jessica would have no dealings with slaviers. It was what she swore and she would keep it that way as long as she lived.

With meals finished all around the table, servants arrived to clear it off. Avm made a quick emotion to his two pets, and they quickly got out of their seats to walk over to him. Standing before him, he spoke to them quietly, and they both replied in shy tones. He gave their bottoms a grip, making them both blush brightly, before giving his fingers a snap.

A red fox servant, wearing a collar exactly like Darla’s and Stephen’s, arrived soon. She gave a curtsey to Avm, slightly revealing childishly frilled white panties, before taking the paws of the two younger slaves and leading them away. After such a scene, the two female slaviers could easily guess they were heading to the restroom for a change.

Avm sat back down in his seat and smiled pleasantly to the two fellow slaviers. They smiled back lightly, then Megan folded her paws in her lap before stating “So, Avm… I must admit, your pets are quite adorable. However I haven’t seen anyone take such childish treatment to the level you put your pets to. Do you really keep all of them in diapers?”

“Yes, I do.” He replied simply, waving down a nearby servant and ordering another coffee.

Delia wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. I wouldn’t be able to stand that, having to change so many dirty diapers. It’s disgusting.” The cat said with disdain.

Avm chuckled and replied “I’m sure many would think so. However, I have my pets fed special pills which negate the scent of their excrement, and about a third of my servants are devoted to the care and monitoring of the other two thirds. They serve as a good symbol of humility and keep my laborers laboring with fewer interruptions. Besides… the ones in diapers are simply children. It would not be right to keep children in garments meant for adults.”

“Children, eh? I would suppose they only regress to children after they visit you.” Delia commented.

“Oh yes, just like they become pets after they arrive to you, miss Delia, or miss Megan’s servants don’t start out as servants.” Avm said coolly, accepting his coffee and relishing the first sip.

The cat and the skunk blinked. “What exactly do you mean by that?” Megan inquired.

“Well, my dear lady, I know the both of you, with your lakes of wisdom and experience, know that a proper slavier doesn’t choose just anyone…” he said, aiming a sly eye toward the both of them. “You choose the ones who want it. Who want the domination, the humiliation, the status of being property to someone else.”

Both of them looked thoughtfully at Avm, starting to grow a bit wary.

Avm took another sip of his coffee, then continued. “The concept that we choose anyone who tickles our fancy is a myth. Our eyes are trained to spot those who yearn for the positions we put them into, whether it be a prostitute or a table. It is our place to put these needy ones where they want to be.”

Delia looked down at the tiger in his lap, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. She smiled lightly, tenderly rubbing his ear as she thought about what Avm was saying. ‘Me?’ she thought to herself as she watched him. ‘Choose the ones who want to be this way? It sounds farfetched… I’ve always gone after those that I’ve wanted… but at the same time… something tells me he’s right.

The cat looked over at her wolf and saw him glance at her, then shyly look away. She chuckled. ‘He might be right after all.

“Willing servants are good servants.” Was all Megan commented, enjoying her tea. Avm smiled thoughtfully at the both of them.

Stephen and Darla soon returned, looking quite happy as they resumed their seats. Avm gave his vixen servant a warm kiss on the cheek, then sent her on her way with a pat to her tail.

The conversation was about to begin again, but suddenly a presence approached the table, a heavily imposing one. His name was Cremel, one of the most, if not the most, brutal slaviers within the miles of the city. The killer whale stood tall and proud, his muscles bulging from his bare arms and under his tunic. His fanned tail alone looked sturdy enough to snap a tree trunk like a twig. He was a slavier who built killers, assassins, people who would brutalize children with a single command. He had quite a reputation, a very bad one at that, and those who opposed him usually ended up as one of his specialized pleasure slaves.

“So, this is all the new slavier on the block has to offer?” he growled lightly as he stood over Avm. The panther placed his coffee cup down and smiled slyly up at the orca. “Hello there, Sir Cremel. Is there something I can help you with?” the panther asked. The two female slaviers remained quiet, though they could feel the pressure starting to build.

Cremel’s deep black eyes slowly shifted over to Stephen, then over to Darla. “Cute…” he murmured softly. “But hardly a proper choice of slave training for a proper male.” He grinned, showing rows of sharp white teeth that made his face seem even crueler. “Tell me, kitten lover… are you sure you aren’t a woman?”

“I don’t believe so. No more of a woman than you are, my friend.” Avm replied coolly as he pushed back his seat and stood up to face the whale.

“That’s a laugh.” Cremel said with a rough chuckle. “I’m sure if you give me a reason to, I have a doctor who can change that conviction of yours.” He slowly licked his teeth before the panther.

“Oh? Well let me know when, so I can send you a lovely dress to go with your new genitals.” The panther replied, making his two pets giggle.

Cremel’s eyes flashed in sudden fury, and he launched himself toward Darla. There was the sound of fist on bone, and the chair she was sitting in tumbled over. “M-Master!” the ferret yelped, perfectly okay with Avm atop of her. The panther had rushed over at the last moment and had taken the powerful blow on his shoulder, and shook himself a little as he got himself off of his pet.

“Are you alright?” he asked Darla gently, smiling as he reached up and rubbed his shoulder. “Y-yes Master, I’m fine.” She mewled gently, helping him up to his feet. Cremel simply laughed at the scene, saying “Does keeping the value of your pets up mean that much to you? I’m sure there are plenty of pedophiles who’d kill to have that little doll of yours.”

“There is give and take to a proper slavier relationship, sea slug.” Avm said calmly as he rubbed his shoulder and moved it a bit before facing his opponents. His face was calm but his eyes glowed dangerously, the pressure between them suddenly skyrocketing.

Cremel, while a brute, was no fool, and he gave his fingers a snap. To his sides approached a pair of his slaves, one male and one female. The male was a wolf, and a horrendous display of opposites. His physique showed a burly frame that surpassed Cremel’s by miles, but his face looked worn and his placid eyes sunken like a person who’d seen one too many battles. His black fur was shaggy and unkempt, and he wore nothing but a blood red metal collar and a loincloth upon himself.

The female was a snow leopard, her limbs long and hanging. She wore only a tattered black leotard and a demonic red mask on her face with her collar, and from time to time her tail or her paws gave sudden, violent twitches.

“So, do you plan on setting your spittle lipped babies after me?” Cremel asked with another carnivorous grin. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want your precious toys to get a scratch.”

Avm looked at both of the slaves, then chuckled and folded his arms. “They’re nowhere near the level of my pets. Your slaves would easily be subdued by mine.”

Such a statement brought roaring laughter from Cremel, with a few smiles and chortles from the slaviers viewing the scene. How could such innocent looking pets have a hope of standing up against veritable war machines? However, all laughter stopped and the hall was cast into silence by the panther’s next words.

“I would bet my life on it.”

With a little effort, you could hear the sputtering of the candles burning within the chandeliers at that moment. Such a comment was as binding and as serious as a contract written in fresh blood. Should Cremel accept the terms and win within the crowd of witnesses, everything Avm was and ever would be would belong to the orca.

The whale folded his arms as well, no grin and no haughty attitude. He knew enough to respect such a challenge. “And what might the terms be?” he inquired, his brow furrowed with consideration.

“Quite simple. We have two of the spare bedrooms unlocked and checked over for any signs of tampering. One of my pets each enters a room, along with one of your slaves. We leave them there alone for an hour, while we remain here within the view of the rest of the guests. When the hour is up, the rooms will be opened, and we will see whose slaves had submitted to the other.” Avm replied, standing straight and tall while his two slaves gathered behind him.

“And what might you mean by ‘submitted’?” the whale asked, his tail slowly flexing up and down behind him. Details were beyond important in situations like this. If something wasn’t verbalized, the challenger could adjust it however they wanted in the aftermath. No slavier worth his salt and whip would ever skip the details.

“Hum… I suppose a third party would be the best to consult on that matter…” Avm said thoughtfully before turning to Megan with a polite smile. “Madame, perhaps you’d like to be our consultant?”

The skunk looked between the two of them thoughtfully, and then nodded. She closed her eyes and gave it a moment’s thought, then looked at the two again and said “Submission will be defined as one slave’s inability or unwillingness to further conflict with the opponent as per their orders at the beginning of the hour. In simple terms, when one slave has reached a state of ‘tame’ toward the other.” With a simple but unwavering conviction. Small murmurs of agreement went through the crowd as Avm looked back to Cremel.

“Is that a suitable definition for you, sir?” he asked, his tail swaying and curling behind him like a wisp of smoke caught in a draft.

Cremel said nothing for a moment, thinking it over, then said “the definition is suitable… but I don’t think the trade is quite even.” He allowed himself another predatory grin, stating “You see, I do believe my life holds quite a bit more value than your talc scented rump.”

Avm closed his eyes and chuckled in his throat, retorting “Oh indeed, my friend, indeed. You’re quite the ‘catch’, I must say.” His golden eyes opened quietly and slowly scanned the two silent slaves on either side of the smooth-skinned anthro. “I wasn’t expecting your life on the other side of the scale anyway. No, I’d rather have the lives of your body guards there, along with whichever other slaves you’ve provided for this evening.”

There was a physical wave of shudders that ran through the crowd as his price was heard, for both the slaviers and their slaves. The panther before them was willing to risk everything to such a merciless brute in exchange for the chance to earn half a dozen slaves? To be sure, the market price of them would be nothing to laugh at, but a slavier was considered to be equal to an entire top grade slaving business. The party guests all began to wonder if Avm didn’t think much of himself, had a gambling problem or was just plain mad.

Cremel simply grinned again, not giving half a damn why the panther was stacking everything against himself. He felt a primal hunger churning deep within him, one that would only be satisfied by sinking his teeth into some fresh panther meat. He certainly wouldn’t be passing up this chance for an easy kill.

“I do believe I’m satisfied by your terms, cat.” The whale told him, doing his best not to drool or lick his teeth from his hunger. “Not that it will change the outcome; I would like to choose which of my slaves faces which of yours.”

“Of course. The choice is yours to make.” Avm said with a polite nod.

“Hum… My male with your female and vice versa for the other pair.” The orca said with barely a moment’s thought.

The panther nodded again then held out one of his paws. As far as this paperless contract went, an equal grip and shake would serve as a signature from each of them. “So it’s agreed?” he asked, his golden eyes glowing with a cool confidence.

“You’re going to look lovely in tears.” Cremel replied, his own eyes burning with a heated lust as he put his hand in and gave the panther’s paw a grip.

 

 

“So…” Darla began, standing across from the ogre-like wolf in the small, simple yet comfortable bedroom, the only lighting coming from the full moon outside the balcony window. “What’s your name?”

The wolf slowly turned his eyes upon the girl. He took in her delicate frame, her soft fur, her adorable clothing and the scent of baby powder wafting from under her dress. What little he had left of a heart ached, like it always did before the crying started.

“Don’t have one.” He replied, his voice as haggard as his eyes. “Don’t need one. Weapons do not need names.” He couldn’t even remember what name he might have had before coming into Cremel’s service, or any semblance of a life he might have had before then either.

The white ferret tilted her head curiously, yipping “Really? That’s too bad. I could think up a nice name for you if you’d like.” Her lips pulled back in a lovely smile.

“Enough.” The wolf replied, his heart already hurting enough. “Say you will submit.”

“Huh? But I can’t. I don’t want Master Avm to lose his bet.” Darla replied, placing a shy finger to her lips. He winced as he looked at her; it was always the pretty ones who started crying first.

“Then I will have to strike you. I must strike you forty times if you will not submit.” He told her. Cremel always set a certain number of strikes. It was a game to him, making his slave count the hits, giving him that shred of pointless hope that they’d be able to hold back the tears with the next hit, the next, the next…

He could see Darla pull back in fear at the threat. “You… you mean you’re going to hit me?” she asked gingerly. She would not last even two hits, he was sure of it.

“Yes, I’m going to hit you.” He replied, stepping toward her and raising his fist. Forty was overkill for such a tender little pet. He held some sorrowful wish that she would simply give up, having more pity for her than for her slaving Master.

“Wait!” he heard her squeak, raising her paws up to defend herself. The wolf stopped, feeling a little relieved. The girl would submit, he wouldn’t have to make her cry and… he shook his head and lowered his fist, he didn’t have to think about that tonight.

“So you submit?” he asked, a tiny bit glad her Master had trained her so poorly.

“Um… n-no, I was just going to ask if you could spank me instead.” The mink said shyly, her paws folded bashfully on her skirt.

The wolf blinked, his ears flicking at the word. “Spank…?”

“Y-yes, spank me. You know, hit me on my bottom with your paw?” she asked him timidly. “I’d much rather be spanked then hit somewhere else.”

He looked down at the floor, sifting through his cobwebs of memory. He remembered serving as a guard in front of a building where Cremel was, and across the street a strict cat mother was holding her kitten’s wrist and slapping at his rear while he jumped and mewled and begged for forgiveness. So many tears fell down his blushing face… the wolf shuddered and cast the memory out.

“No… I can not…” he started but was quickly interrupted by Darla.

“Please sir, it’s not really that big of a problem is it?” she begged, coming up close to him with her hands folded under her chin and her bright eyes sparkling. “I get spankings all the time at home. I can even go fifty paw smacks without crying, even with my didees pulled down!”

The wolf froze a moment, and then quickly went through the book of rules that had been carved into his mind by Cremel. A strike was a full physical hit to any part of the body… so a spank could be counted as a strike. His little heart began to scream hoarsely at him, demanding he take the only chance he’d ever had to obey his orders without making someone start crying. He knew there wasn’t much of a chance, knowing his own strength and guessing the girl’s durability, but chances were something he’d not had in ages, and what person he had left was overriding the weapon he had been built as.

“Alright… I’ll spank you instead…” he said, none of this emotion showing in his body or languid eyes.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” Darla cheered happily, bouncing in her step and letting her tail flick about happily behind her. She did this for a moment and then waited, smiling up at the wolf.

There was a pause, the sound of the party downstairs coming muffled through the walls. Darla began to tilt her head curiously, wondering why the wolf wasn’t starting.

“… How… how do I spank you..?” he finally asked, not sure of the procedure. He could feel something stir in his chest and face… bashfulness? He relished the feeling while the ferret giggled in front of him.

“Well first, we need to get you a comfy seat.” She said, taking a hold of his paw and guiding him over to the bed. Once he’d sat down, she laid herself over his sturdy lap and wiggled to get comfy before looking back up at him.

“Now you move my skirt away.” She instructed next. He nodded and slowly pinned the back of her skirt and petticoats, fully exposing her diapered bottom. He was surprised at how thick it looked, reaching down and running a paw against the lacy rows of frills under her tail. He could feel a layer of rubber under the frills, and realized there were two layers. Rubber pants over the diapers to prevent leaks, and the delicate panties over the rubber for decoration.

“I… I have to hit your body…” the wolf told her, knowing the strikes wouldn’t count through so many layers.

“On the bare? Okay then.” Darla said with a nod, guiding him as she lay across his knees until her delicate white bottom was revealed. He took in the scent of baby powder and sweet oils that wafted from her rear, comforting him somehow as he pinned her tail with her skirts and placed his paw on her rump.

“Now you just slap away. Forty, right? Do you want me to count sir?” the ferret asked, still looking back at him with those sugary sweet eyes.

“No… just…” he sighed, praying things would go differently this time, that he could undo some small part of the hold Cremel always had on him. “Please don’t cry.” He then lifted his paw up and sent it hard against her rear.

Darla winced and tensed as she struck, then gave a weak little gasp as the next blow came right after it. The wolf’s spanks were far harder than she was used to, and every hit caused her to yelp, tense and jump like a real baby girl.

He felt himself slowly start to wince as well, feeling closer and closer to his own personal edge. That had been the main focus of his training under Cremel. The memories were hazy of what was done to him… but in the end…. He could no longer stand someone crying. The whale set limits to how many hits the wolf could make because as soon as the victim started crying, there would be no hope. His emotions would spin into a violent whirlwind, causing him to hurt and hurt and hurt… he would often black out at some part and wake up to find a bloody mangled heap of what once was his opponent. He couldn’t stop himself, and he’d lost all hope at ever being free of such a horrifying curse. That was… until right now. It seemed so silly and stupid and fanciful to believe that he could be saved… but just the merest blink of vision at not becoming some violent machine… what use was there to simply let it pass?

He bit his lip with worry as he continued to bring the slaps against Darla’s bottom, harder and harder as her gasps turned to sobs, her legs kicking helplessly behind her. He didn’t feel very much for her, he just didn’t want her to cry, for her and his own sake. He counted the strokes one after one in his mind, like a counter that had been constructed on his brain by Cremel. 27, 28, 29… her loud sobbing yelps didn’t help his confidence in the least, his heart feeling shrunk and his stomach dropping away into infinity. He grew so scared that as the last five slaps came, he closed his eyes tight, wanting to hold onto that hope a little longer. The last spank seemed to echo about the room a little, followed by Darla’s sniveling and whimpering.

Slowly the wolf opened his eyes and took a look at Darla’s face. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were shut tight with the pain, her little nose pulling back to sniffle… but no tears. His eyes opened wide. He looked at her exposed rear, the skin under her white fur a burning red. He checked in his mind over and over again and knew he’d counted right. Forty strikes, all of them carried out… and no tears.

“S-s-sir…” the ferret whimpered, sniffling again and rubbing her eyes (he made sure she shed no tears). “A-are we done? M-may I go stand in the corner now?”

He sat there, stunned with the girl still across his lap. He weakly managed to nod, giving her all the incentive she needed to get off him and go press her nose into the nearest corner with her paws on her skirt. The wolf just sat there, staring into nothingness, an emptiness filling him, a feeling quite similar to sitting in a quiet garden on a sunny morning. He had failed his Master, but he didn’t care… Jeremiah… that’s right, he, Jeremiah didn’t care. He slowly bowed his head and closed his eyes, slumping and relaxing and enjoying his failure.

He quietly played slap after slap on Darla’s behind in his mind. He tried to work up a bit of humor in himself to laugh, for it was indeed humorous to him. The wolf had had countless battles, having placed strike after strike after strike on the orders of Cremel… yet… yet this tiny, innocent little ferret child had given him a key to freedom. Spanking… if he had enough emotion, he would have chortled. It was just so ironic, something he would have never thought of, being the simplest of punishments. He wondered for a moment if spanking would have saved him conflict prior to this night… Jeremiah (It was so hard to attach himself to that name even now that he remembered it… it sounded so much nobler and wiser than he felt he was) supposed not. There were bound to be those who cried from the slaps, and Cremel would certainly cut off a number of his fingers for such an act.

He continued to slump there in peace for a while, and then slowly looked up when there was a soft tug on his arm. Darla stood before him, her eyes wet but still free of tears. Her glossy lips parted, whimpering sweetly “Am I a good girl…?”

The wolf looked at her, then gave her the smallest, weakest of smiles. It lasted nary a moment, and it faded from existence before either could notice it. “Yes…” he said slowly, nodding his worn black head to her. His dull eyes then followed her tiny paws as they held onto his wrists and guided them limply over to her diapers. He was confused a moment, then curiously gripped them and pulled them up over her red behind. He slipped her smooth tail through the holes in the back, and let his finger trail across it before moving his paws back to his sides on the bed.

Darla fidgeted quietly as she stood before him, and he questioned to himself what she was after. The punished girl took the initiative and sat herself on Jeremiah’s knee carefully before leaning against his sturdy chest and closing her eyes. The wolf watched her with a quiet detachment, wondering how she could pull so close to one who had abused her so badly. It took him a moment to realize, however, that his right arm had slid over protectively around the white ferret. He looked at his arm, then back to Darla before simply closing his eyes and resting his head in the air.

“Odd girl…” he thought to himself, too at peace to try to think about how the mind of an angelic little princess worked differently from the one Cremel had built for him.

 

 

Stephan wandered around the room curiously, his tail flicking at the air behind him as his squirrely whiskers twitched. Tugging at the back of his shorts a bit, he turned to face his ‘opponent’, the masked snow leopard. The mask itself was quite disturbing, resembling something like a demonic red shark, with rows of pointed teeth and the lips pulled back in an angry snarl. The kneaded brow held two empty eye sockets, the eyes within hidden by shadow.

The boy looked around the room again, as if to find something more interesting to play with, and then looked back to the female. Opening his mouth to say something, an angry, hostile voice interrupted him, affected by the wood of the mask.

“Do you think my mask is ugly?” rasped the leopardess, her head tilting rapidly to the side.

Stephan blinked, and then rubbed the back of his head in thought. “Um… yeah, it’s not pretty, so it’s ugly… but it’s a very well made kind of ugly.” He told her, smiling as if to be polite.

She gave a bout of loud, disturbed laughter, throwing her head and back into it, before rapidly pulling back into her prior position, her arm giving a violent shake. “I’m glad you tell the truth. I don’t like liars.” She explained, her head slowly tilting to her other side. “If you’re a liar, then I don’t like you. And you don’t want me to dislike you.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to dislike me either.” He replied, folding his paws behind his back and grinning happily. “I like it better when people like me. Can you tell me what else you dislike so I can get you to like me?”

The leopardess reached up and stroked the chin of her mask. “Hmmm… well… I don’t like… suck-ups.” She told him before extending her sharpened claws and launching to him with a banshee’s scream. Not giving Stephan the time to even think, she pulled back her claws and drove them right into… the air just an inch away from his face. The boy lost his balance and flailed his paws in the air before landing on his rump with a childish grunt.

She gave another maniacal laugh, joy, desperation and insanity all mixed into it. “Get it?! I don’t like suck-ups, and you tried to suck up to me before you knew that! I just almost killed you!” she laughed loudly, her arms wrapping around her as her body heaved. “I bet your butt hurts from falling down! I know it does! Tell me it does!”

“Oh? No, not really. My diapers are good padding.” He replied simply, brushing off his tail a bit, not seeming fearful in the least.

She stopped laughing, standing there bent over and quiet with her arms clutching her stomach. The masked feline remained there for a good fifteen seconds before she began to laugh harder than before, actually falling to her knees with the force of it.

“DIAPERS?! YOU’RE ACTUALLY WEARING DIAPERS?!” she roared with glee, pressing her mask to the floor as she bent from her chortling.

“Yes, I am. I don’t see why you’re laughing so much.” He said, pouting as he put his paws on his hips. “I mean, no ones even tickling you.”

The squirrel was suddenly pinned to his back by her knee, her chest heaving as she let out odd little giggles. “I want to see them.” She stated, pulling out all of her claws and starting to hack away at Stephan’s pants.

“H-hey! Stop that, those are good pants! Master Avm got them made specially for tonight!” Stephan wailed, kicking and struggling as the sound of tearing material filled the room. The leopardess ignored him, slashing away until there was nothing but tatters all around them and his diapers had been exposed: a simple pair of rubber pants with at least four layers of diapers underneath.

At the sight of them, his tormentor broke out into horrific laughter again, rolling off of him and holding onto her belly. “Dahahahahaipers! You’re wearing diapers like a stupid little baby! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!” went she.

Stephan scrambled onto his knees and reached down, picking up some of the shreds of his pants and looking at them. His ears folded back and his tail tucked down, under and up again, covering his rubber pants. He sniffled once, twice… he placed his knuckles to his eyes and began to rub them as tears started to form.

The leopardess stopped her laughing and looked right at him, her eyes still hidden within her mask. “Oh oh oh, you better not cry, crybaby!” she teased maliciously, sliding onto her feet and looking ready to pounce him. “I don’t like crybabies just like I don’t like suck-ups. If you start crying, I’m going to have to give you a real reason to cry, brat.” She sounded absolutely delighted at this prospect; one could almost hear her tongue sliding across her fangs in feral hunger.

She was to be disappointed however, for Stephan frowned then sucked in his tears, rubbing his eyes clean before looking right at his opponent.

“You know, I don’t care. They were just pants.” The squirrel chattered, folding his arms and standing proudly before her with his diapers exposed. “And I forgive you too, because I know you’re a very pretty lady behind that mask.”

The female froze, her body seizing up, and her maniacal laughter ending in an instant. She stayed that way for a few moments, not making a single noise, and then slowly let out a whisper that Stephan couldn’t hear.

“What did you say?” he asked, before squeaking and jumping back at a sudden claw lunge from his opponent.

“TAKE IT BACK!” she shrieked, her dagger-like claws drawn as she slashed and hacked at Stephan, her exposed fur fluffed with outrage to make her seem even more frightening. “TAKEITBACKTAKEITBACKTAKEITBACK!”

“Ack! Eeep! Ah!” the squirrel squeaked as he was forced to jump and dodge about awkwardly from her raging attacks. He managed to escape to the other side of the room and whimpered “But all ladies are pretty. It’s true. Meep!” before dodging to the side as she dug her claws into the wall where he had been standing.

“I’m Not Pretty! I’m not lovely or beautiful or charming or attractive or striking or gorgeous or ANYTHING! I’M UGLY!” the feline-turned-banshee howled, her mask becoming utterly demonic with the tone of her voice adding to its frightfulness.

The furious leopard continued her assault upon the bedroom, chasing after Stephan until suddenly catching him in a feint and pinning him to the bed by the throat. The squirrel gave a choke and grabbed onto her wrist, his bright eyes growing cloudy as the oxygen was cut off from his lungs.

“Now you are going to die…” she hissed at him. “You’re going to die, because you are a liar, because I hate you, because I’m an ugly, horrible person who does ugly, horrible things…”

Stephen choked again and tried to escape weakly as she spoke, his ears focusing on her every word. He couldn’t be sure at that point, but there was sadness in her voice, an underlying sadness behind her brutality and savage words. There was a lady behind that mask, one that he wanted to adore like all the other beautiful females he saw.

“Yer…” he wheezed, letting a paw fall limp to the side. “PRETTY!” his paw flew forward, catching the side of the mask with all the force he could muster. The blow surprised the leopardess, whose head turned with it. The old string that held it in place snapped, and the mask went spinning off into the shadows, landing somewhere with a light clatter.

With his vision blurry, Stephen couldn’t make out the face of his attacker in the shadows, but he soon felt the pressure off his neck, which caused him to gasp and hack up a harsh cough.

As he sat up, he could see the female was on her knees, her face covered by her wide paws. “My mask…” she whimpered, surprising Stephan with its frightened and quiet tone. “Oh Gods, my mask… my mask, I need my mask… Master… Master can’t look at me without my mask… oh Gods, where is it, where is it?!”

She began to search the floor, crawling about within the dark room, one paw covering her face and the other patting across the floor. Stephan could hear her start to sob, his ears folding back at causing such an event to occur.

The feline finally caught sight of her mask, and stumbled over to it to grab it. However, another paw came down and grabbed a hold of it, picking it up and out of her reach. Stephan looked closely at the horrific red mask, then held it up high as the lady let out a cry and crawled to him, kneeling at his feet and reaching up in a pathetic attempt to grab it back, her body trembling with sobs of fear.

The squirrel may have been in diapers, but he wasn’t stupid. The mask he held now was of deep importance to the snow leopard, psychologically so. Without it on, she was the miserable, wretched heap at his feet, with little talent for violence or even standing up against him to retrieve her mask.

“Please… oh Gods, please, I need it…” the leopardess sobbed, covering her face with both of her paws again, not letting any scrap of her face be shown. “Please, I’ll do anything, anything if you’ll give it back, please...!”

Stephan perked up his ears at her words, and looked down at her curiously. “Anything?” he inquired.

“Yes, anything, please, I can’t be without it, please, anything!” she sobbed, her body starting to curl up from the force of her crying. She’d done so many horrible things with that mask on… there was nothing at all that she couldn’t do to get it back.

“I want to see your face.”

Except for that.

Her back arched so her face was aimed toward him, her face still hidden away. “Oh Gods, no, NO! No, no, no, no, anything but that!” she cried out to him, her voice drowning with desperation. “You… if you see it, you’ll know how ugly I am! You’ll hate me just by looking at me! You’ll scream, you’ll die, and you’ll want to kill me just because of how I look!”

She trembled more now, her body starting to curl up again, as if terrified. “And… and then once you give me the mask… you’ll die for sure… I have to kill anyone who sees my face… no one can know how I look… Master is the only one… the only one who can see it… since he knows… he always knew how ugly I was… he made sure I knew… always… always…” she stammered, her body shaking, her voice growing weaker, as if the stress were slowly killing her.

“You can kill me.” Came the reply, causing the leopardess to freeze again and point her hidden face toward him.

“Wh-what did you say?” she whispered with shock.

Stephan smiled, his long bushy tail giving a few flicks behind him. “You can kill me.” He told her again, holding the mask with both paws to his chest. “You were going to do that anyway… so at least now I can die knowing how you look.”

There was a quiet, eternal pause within the room, and then the ragged feline slowly pushed herself up onto her feet. She spread her fingers a bit, letting a pair of yellow eyes gleam through to look down at him. “You… you won’t hate me if I do? If I show you… my ugly face… and then kill you?” she asked him, almost in a daze.

“On my honor.” Stephan said with a nod and a bounce, giggling and wondering if he sounded like Master Avm when he said that.

She stood there pondering, her eyes watching his soft, juvenile face. Slowly, like old iron gates being pulled open, her paws slipped away, and she exposed herself, her features wracked with guilt at her crime.

“Mph… it’s too dark.” He said with a pout. “I don’t want to die unless I can get a good look.”

She nodded, understanding his request and honoring it like a death wish. She stepped back, back into the moonlight piercing through the window, standing still and silent before the boy as the silver beams illuminated her face.

It was plain, Stephan noted. He could see the ragged ring to her eyes, the dull tone of her fur, but he knew that was from something else, something that she’d been living with for years now. He looked past the wear, seeing the simple gleam of her eye, the length of her whiskers, the pattern of black spots across her silver-white coat. He could see how unremarkable it all was, with features that didn’t define her from another snow leopard walking down the street.

He had been right though, all along. She was pretty… so so pretty. Her eyes looked to him with such sadness, such kind and tender pity, for the fate she herself promised to enact on him. Her ears trembled slightly, her mind struggling to find a way to spare him, perhaps gouge out his eyes and cut out his tongue instead. And then her lips… the way they trembled so delicately… she wanted to apologize… for everything, for anything… she wanted to hold him and thank him and cry for him… before the mask came on… and she would no longer be able to shed a tear for his death.

Stephan slowly stepped over to the snow leopard, so that both of them were bathing in the glow of the moon. “You were the liar, not me.” He chattered with a smile, the mask still within his hands. She trembled and opened her mouth to reply, and then suddenly found her lips pressed up against his. It was a short kiss, like one shared between two children, but when he pulled away, the leopardess’ eyes were wide as saucers, looking to him like he had just proposed to her.

The years flashed back suddenly, vanishing quickly… she was younger… in a class room… with dozens of small desks and a chalkboard… kneeling, blushing, laughing… a shy badger child, barely five, his blush apologetic but his eyes sparkling… sparkling with the feeling of a first kiss to a lady fifteen years his senior…

She was back in the moonlight, standing before Stephan, the cold wood of the mask within her paws. He had given it to her… he really had, just like that. She looked down at the mask, the snarling shark with the dagger teeth… so much hurt… so much pain… so much fear… she looked back up, into the face of the boy. Gentle, smiling, forgiving, accepting, loving… so loving.

“I don’t want to.” Hissed the mask softly, sounding almost embarrassed at the admission.

We have to.

“His Master wins, we don’t.”

But the other…

“He wins, Master wins… boy is still alive.”

Why?

“… I lied.”

She wanted to die then… her heart, it felt so full… for the first time in years, she felt so many things at once… things she had stored away, feelings she wasn’t allowed, beliefs that meant nothing anymore under… under His will… tears streaked down her face, tears of joy, grief, sorrow, agony, hope, faith, and freedom… such sweet freedom…

“Wet…” was all the mask whispered as the tears splattered across its surface.

“I… I won’t put my mask on…” she whispered quietly, her head bowed as she continued to cry. “I submit… you win.”

Stephan blinked in shock, then grinned brightly and began to flick his tail with delight. “So that means you’re not going to kill me?” he asked gleefully.

“No…” she replied, shaking her head and allowing herself a small smile. It hurt. It’d been so long since she smiled. She did it anyway.

“You’re not going to hurt me?” he asked next.

“No…” she said, lifting her head so that she could see his joy and so that he could see her smile.

“No matter what I do?” he asked next, a glimmer of mischief within his eye.

“No matter what…” she said, sighing with relief.

“Good!” he cheered, before grabbing her and forcing her onto the bed. She yowled with surprise, her paws splayed behind her head with her mask in her right paw.

“Wh-what are you… AH!” she gasped with shock as Stephan took a claw and tore a line down the front of her leotard. ‘Oh dear Gods, is he going to rape me?!’ she thought with disbelief, wondering if all of her kindness had been wasted.

She got her answer once her breasts were exposed. Without a second thought, Stephan dove in and latched onto his prey’s teat, his paws gently cupping her lovely mound while he closed his eyes and began to suckle in earnest. He knew she had no milk to provide, but the chance to nurse upon a feminine teat was one chance that was not to be missed!

Embarrassment! No shame, not humiliation, but shocked, wonderful embarrassment filled her entire body as she felt the squirrel latch onto her sensitive teat. His paws pressed and fondled at sensitive scars that had long been hidden by fur, and the sensations mixed with the situation put her in a state she was most unfamiliar with… she had no idea if she wanted to stop him or not!

“Ah! W-wait! Auuuh! Th-that’s uoh! D-don’t touch there! Ah! I-I mean it, stop, stahhhh! Th-this, this isn’t right at all, you shouldn’t be doing this! G-get off! I… I mean it, Get ooouuuuuuffffff… Hnnnnnnn… AUGH! Oh Gods, not the teeth, not thooouuuuu… uhhhhhhhh, you’re going to chew it right offffff… I’m not one of your pacifERS! W-was that your… oh Gods, it was, ouhhhhh… how is your tongue so soffffft…. Mhnnnnnnnn…”

“Put me on! Put me on!” the mask demanded loudly before promptly being shoved under a pillow, its outraged cries muffled as she lay back to enjoy the touch of a master.

 

 

The party continued on downstairs, though the topic of discussion was locked into the conflict within their company. Jokes were told, fears were revealed, and bets were placed while furtive eyes slipped always back to the center of the main hall.

The two opponents were facing each other, sitting about ten feet apart from one another in comfortable plush seats taken from one of the smaller lounge rooms that weren’t occupied during the party. It was a bit terrifying to watch, since the two anthros seemed to be in exact opposite states of mind.

Cremel looked nothing short of ravenous. He was leaning forward in his seat, his eyes staring hard at Avm. His heavy hands were flexing and gripping at his knees, his tongue constantly grazing across his razor teeth while his tail was slowly raising itself before coming down with a harsh speed, as if he were flogging the air with it. He spoke to no one, only giving anyone who approached him a brutal gaze that made them quickly depart. He was the perfect image of anxiousness, not the worry of an oncoming threat but the impatience of a child wishing to open presents on his birthday.

Avm was far from anxious. He was smiling and chatting with those around him, and had insisted his chair remain within polite speaking range of Delia’ and Megan’s table. The panther was sipping now at some soda water with cherry syrup, his paw lightly drumming a beat upon the arm of his chair. He even gave a cheery smile and raised his glass in a salute to Cremel, though his golden eyes held anything but respect. All they held were a condescending pleasure, as if he were already looking upon the spoils of his victory when he looked at the ferocious orca.

“Ladies, since the air seems ripe with gambling at the moment, would you two like to take me up on a bet?” he asked. At the sight of their incredulous faces, he laughed and waved a dismissive paw, stating “Nothing to the extremes of the wager I find myself in tonight. Simply an exchange based upon the outcome of tonight’s main event.”

“Go on.” Megan stated, her experienced eyes thoughtful as she glanced over at the panther.

“Let us see…” Avm purred thoughtfully, stroking his chin with a playful smile on his face. “Should I win, I will prepare a lovely pet for each of you, free of charge or trade.”

“And should you lose?” Delia inquired, attempting to look uninterested while gliding a paw down the back of her wolf.

Avm’s golden eyes glimmered as they glanced over to the feline, purring “I would ask for a farewell kiss from each of you.”

The cat returned Avm’s glance with an irritated glower, then perked her ears up as she heard Megan state “Deal.” The two females exchanged a look, with Megan’s frown giving off a tone of ‘pay respect to a dead male’.

Delia sighed and flicked her paw as if it were a trifle, stating “Very well, I accept. I will not restrain my pets from tearing you apart out of jealousy afterwards, however.”

Avm chuckled warmly, replying “My dear Delia, you would be showing me a mercy befitting of a Goddess in letting those two magnificent beasts rip my body asunder…” before coolly glancing back to Cremel “knowing of the fate that would await me after.”

Cremel simply licked his pearly teeth once more.

 

As the final hour of the wager came to a close, Cremel grinned and stood himself up, the rest of the hall quieting down to muted whispers.

“If it pleases you, ‘Master’ Avm, I would enjoy having our slaves brought out in two groups.” The orca requested, the sarcasm and mockery in his voice practically dribbling down his chin.

Avm smiled and nodded, raising his glass in approval before draining it completely. He did not rise from his seat, nor turn his chair as all eyes settled upon the main stairway, where the combatants would arrive from the left hallway.

The first to arrive was the wolf. He slowly made his way down the steps, cradling the white and red bundle that was Darla in his arms. Cremel gave a wide grin, suspecting the girl to be dead from her closed eyes and limp body. That wolf of his was always such a sentimental old fool; it was why he enjoyed making him hurt, for that dead look in his eyes that grew deader with every life he took under Cremel’s orders.

The killer whale was in for a shock, for once the wolf had made his way down the steps, he spoke gently to the girl in his arms and then stood her up on the floor. She gave a wide yawn and rubbed at her eyes a bit, then blinked, looked about, and quickly made her way over to her Master.

The entire room was stunned, but none more than Cremel. His mind had frozen, looking upon the mink as if she had entered the room while riding a heavenly light. His anger, his rage, then flashed like a violent kettle before he composed himself. There was no need to fret. There was an explanation to this, and he knew what it was. He straightened himself up and made his way over to his wolf, an easy smile upon his lips.

“I see you gave her the option to submit before her beating.” The orca said lightly, his arms folded behind his back in a business-like matter. It was a stupid habit of the wolf’s, but as long as the job got done, he didn’t care.

“Yes sir.” The wolf confirmed, his head bowed and his body limp before his Master.

Cremel grinned again; proud of himself for not letting his emotions get away from him because of a mistaken perception. “So the girl submitted then. It’s no surprise such a child would take the easy way out.” He said, almost laughing. He didn’t congratulate his weapons often, but he thought perhaps this would be a good time. Fetch the hound a female, perhaps some choice meat…

“No sir.”

Cremel’s mind went blank. He froze once more, forcing his eyes to slowly look back to the bowed head of his servant.

“She did not submit?” his voice was the epitome of disbelief.

“She did not, sir.”

The anger started to rise within him. “Did you deliver her forty strikes?”

“Yes sir.”

It was like a bubbling cauldron. “All forty?”

“Yes sir.”

It was like a rising magma flow. “And she did not cry.”

“Yes sir.”

It was like a maelstrom threatening to engulf his entire body. His hand struck out and gripped to the wolf’s throat, squeezing it in a painful fashion, forcing his tool to look right into his face, which was grinning like a madman.

“Then where are the marks?” Cremel hissed, the strength of his rage ready to tear bone from socket.

Those dead eyes looked up to him, quietly, submissively… unyieldingly. “On her bottom sir.”

For a moment, the words could barely register to the orca. “To her… to…” Cremel’s face blanched. His rage slipped out into the floor. He felt sick, his stomach twisting in knots as he understood what he was told.

“You spanked her…?” he asked, the words leaving his throat like a ghost.

Even as the wolf was losing oxygen, he managed to nod his head lightly. “She did not cry. Forty strikes. I submitted.” He wheezed, his body offering no resistance to the killer grip.

Cremel stood there, feeling all eyes within the ballroom upon him. There was a feeling welling up inside of him… humiliation. His killing machine had lost, lost to a thumb sucking, panty pissing female who could barely pass for an adult. He wanted to reach inside of himself and pull out the nauseating feeling, rip it out from within him and remove any chance of feeling it ever again. He settled for the next best thing. He got angry.

With a throw that made the chair legs shake, he slammed the wolf into the floor, his adrenaline pumping and his brain igniting. Without a moment of hesitation, he lifted his leg and then drove his heel toward the canine’s skull, intending to crush it and end the wolf’s miserable life. Cremel did not build faulty weapons. Weapons who could not serve their purpose were scrapped.

“It seems the first round goes to me.” Avm’s voice commented, cutting through the loud ringing in Cremel’s eardrum. His heel stopped a few inches away from the head of his slave and he slowly turned his steely eyes toward the panther. He had to keep focus. Splattering the brains of the wolf would be enjoyable, but it would be in bad taste in front of the other slaviers and their pets. Cremel took a slow breath and put his foot down. He gave the wolf a slight kick to the muzzle to let him know he hadn’t been forgotten, and then turned to face Avm.

“I suppose…” the whale said slowly, keeping a firm leash on his rage as he looked at the panther. “That you are correct. However, there is still another pair to reveal. Should it be revealed that my slave is the victor, we will be tied, and the bet annulled.”

Avm gave a thoughtful look while stroking across the soft curls of Darla’s head. “Well that simply won’t do… I’ve already got two wagers weighed on the outcome of our conflict.” He said with disappointment.

“Why don’t you just say if Stephan loses, you lose, Master?” Darla inquired sweetly, her sleek tail slowly curling behind her as she sat in her Master’s lap.

There was a bit of chortling around the room. It was the silly, naïve, innocent suggestion of a child that no sane slavier would take seriously. Even Cremel rolled his eyes, wishing he could tear those pretty eyes out of her skull.

“Ah, that’s perfect. Thank you Darla dear.” Avm praised with a loving smile, giving her cheek a kiss before looking to Cremel and stating “Double or nothing then, good sir. While I may not have much else to give at this point, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind throwing the carriage you came here in?”

Cremel would be willing to give half his tailfin for the certainty of being able to claim Avm. “Done.” He said with another grin, the rest of the ballroom starting to lose their nerves, now assured that Avm was absolutely insane.

 

 

As the next combatants were sent for, the killer whale could only imagine how raw panther flesh would taste. He was assured in victory now. While the old wolf had been rendered useless by his sentimentality, his leopard was absolutely vicious. The mental restraints placed on her two halves were perfect, one driven by self hatred and an intense paranoia while the other had a loyalty seared into her by a mind shattering fear of her owner. He had never expected the squirrel boy to leave alive.

It was the soft click of patent leather shoes that warned him first. The boy should not have been able to breath, let alone walk. Then it was the sight of two pairs of legs walking down the stairs together, side by side. There was no blood dripping down the legs of the squirrel. He should be blood soaked. When they turned the corner and began to walk down the stairs, giving all in the main hall a full view, Cremel knew he had gone insane. She was without her mask. She was holding it in her right hand, and in her left… she held the paw of the boy… the undamaged, unhurt, GRINNING boy. It was beyond his comprehension. He had been drugged. He was having a hallucination. There was no reality that he could belong to that this could have happened. That his creations of torture and death could be undone by the most… most… disgusting of juvenile pets!

In a haze, Cremel made his way through the crowd to the base of the stairs, standing a few feet away from the snow leopard.

“Why are you without your mask, you hideous thing?” he snarled quietly. The female flinched and turned her face away from him, her entire body trembling. “Answer me!” he barked.

Shaking like a leaf, the feline slowly looked up to him, tears of fright streaming down her face. “M-Master… h-h-he is j-just a-a-a-a-a b-boy…” she stated, struggling through an uncontrollable stutter. “Y-y-you-ou-ou’ve alread-dy w-won, haven’t y-you? The l-l-little girl…”

“Was the victor.” He finished for her, his eyes blazing and his words like the deadly hiss of a cobra.

The reaction to those words was tragic. Her eyes grew wide as physically possible, her jaw dropped and her entire body slumped with horror and disbelief. She looked like someone who’d just been stabbed through the chest. It did not last, however, for as her lips just began to move to say something, her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed onto the floor, prone with tears still streaking her face.

Cremel watched this display with disgust, and then started to approach her with vicious intent. He was going to kill her now, but he would have to wake her up first. He supposed slamming his elbow onto her paws a few times would bring her back to consciousness.

The squirrel boy made a move, standing in front of the helpless leopard and spreading his arms wide. To the others in the room, it seemed like a stack of building blocks attempting to hold back a tidal wave. To Cremel, it was a nuisance. He pulled back his arm, building up strength, hoping that one good backhand to the pet’s head would snap his neck.

Just as he arrived and was about to unleash his blow, there was a black blur before him, followed by a powerful shock to his snout. He stumbled backward, grunting as he put a hand over his face… what the hell had hit him? He knew almost immediately, and lifted his head up, his eyes filled with an insane fury as he looked upon Avm, the panther removing a set of bronze knuckles from his right hand.

“This snow leopard is no longer your property, Cremel.” Avm stated coolly, his eyes looking upon the injured whale with distaste. “She belongs to me… as does your wolf… your other slaves… and your carriage. I will not stand for you damaging any of my valuables.”

The room remained silent once again, all eyes darting between Avm and Cremel. Cremel could not care less. To him, in his state of fury, there was only the offending jaguar before him and himself, an unstoppable ocean of hatred and power. So the cat had won. So what? That wasn’t going to stop the orca from tearing him limb from limb. He rushed his opponent, fists closed and ready to strike. In barely a second, he was in front of Avm and sending his deathly will through his arms…

There was a pause, and then a sudden gasp through the ball attendees.

Cremel was frozen before Avm, eyes wide with shock, his raised fist a foot away from the black panther’s face. There was a dinner knife to his throat, serrated with intention for cutting through bread or steak. There was another pressed to his stomach, both prepared to penetrate his skin with ease.

“H-how…?” he hissed with shock, for the knives were in the paws of Darla and Stephan. The mink had somehow leapt onto him, supporting herself on his thigh and shoulder while pressing the knife to his throat with her free paw. The squirrel had slipped in from Cremel’s blind spot around Avm, and he had his second paw pressed to the handle of the knife, giving him enough force to drive the blade through Cremel’s vest and into his toned stomach.

Cremel swallowed. There was no possible chance this was right. Both knives were held to him without a single tremor, a slight pressure constantly being applied to assure compliancy. These two brats handled themselves like professional assassins, a far cry from the naïve children he’d viewed earlier.

“Don’t…” snarled Darla into his ear hole, pressing her nose against the side of his head. “ever threaten my Master again.”

Cremel’s mind went blank. He’d lost. He’d lost his bet, he’d lost his attack, he’d lost… to Avm. Somehow, this… pretty boy panther had managed to completely outmaneuver him the entire knight. He looked to the jaguar, breathing very slowly, still caught mid-attack.

Avm stood there, paws folded behind his back, face serious, golden eyes staring straight into Cremel’s black ones. “Since you no longer have any slaves donated to our jubilation tonight, Cremel, I’m sorry to say that you’ll have to be ejected from the party.” He stated, his tail slowly swaying behind him as he stood there. “Either you can take your own leave… or you will have to go in a much more… unpleasant manner.”

The orca stood there, the image of Avm etching into his mind. Triumphant, stoic… he wanted to remember this, for the day that he would drag the still beating heart out of that chest.

“I will take my own leave if you don’t mind.” He replied calmly. Once the brats had moved away from him, he stood himself upright and brushed off his vest before glancing to Avm.

“Thank you for the interesting night… I will be sure to return the favor.” Cremel stated before turning and starting to head toward the main doors. He paused a moment next to an empty chair, then flipped his tail, impacting the chair with a sickening crack. The previously beautiful wooden structure now slumped with three broken legs, a cracked seat and splintered armrests. There was another quiet moment throughout the hall, and then Cremel left, the door to the ballroom closing with a thud.

Avm sighed then smiled, proudly stroking the heads of his two pets. The rest of the ball attendees could not conceal the shock at the outcome of this conflict, and before long, the party was back into full swing, music playing, servants serving, the gossip and chatter now revolving around the black jaguar’s triumph and Cremel’s awe-inspiring defeat.

The panther returned to his table with Darla and Stephen at his side, stating “Well, it seems that I’ve lost on my bet, dear ladies.” Delia simply gave a nod and a wave of her hand in his direction, the feline feigning disinterest toward Avm. Megan, on the other hand, lifted her paws and provided a small smattering of applause on the back of one, a sly twinkle of amusement within her eyes while her lips splayed in a small smile.

“I will tell you right now…” growled the proud cat, jabbing a finger in Avm’s direction. “I absolutely refuse to be required to change any diapers.”

Avm chuckled lightly and gave a small bow toward her. “I can certainly provide a house-broken pet to your liking… I’ll even throw in a few mental suggestions… in case you ever change your mind.” He looked to her and gave her a wink, Delia scowling and turning her head away.

The panther chuckled, and then made a motion to a servant to bring him over. After a few quick words, the male headed off, leaving Avm to place his two pets in seats besides the two slaviers. “While I would love to stay so you can give me your requirements in fullest detail, I have a few new acquirements to oversee. Darla and Stephen here will be able to get all the necessary details, once the pens and papers I requested have arrived.” He told them.

The gentlemanly jaguar gracefully lifted Megan’s hand to his lips, kissing it and sharing a knowing look between them. For Delia, he simply bowed much like a dancer would, extravagant and elegant, before wishing them both a good night and stepping toward the wolf and the collapsed snow leopard.

“I must say… this has been the most entertaining ball I’ve been to in years…” chortled Megan, a comfortable old smile on her face before looking to Darla and affectionately rubbed her ears, trying to ignore the killer instinct the girl had displayed earlier.

Delia sighed and ran a paw across Slash’s back, both her tiger and her wolf visibly keyed up by the drama of the evening. Her thin-slit eyes glanced slowly toward Stephen, the young squirrel patting an uneven rhythm on the table top. “I suppose it could have been duller.” She replied, turning her eyes back to her own sweet beasts.

Eventually, the sheets of paper arrived with fountain pens and ink arrived. Megan gave slow and easy to write instructions to Darla, while Delia, after watching Stephen blot out half a page while playing with his pen, took the sheets for herself and began to write out her order.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, the streets dark and the moon waning within an endless sky of blackness and twinkling stars.

 

Epilogues

 

Darla giggled happily with two of her friends, the three girls all collared and dressed in lovely frilly dresses. They were walking the streets together, window shopping for the day, all of them with small purses fastened to their middle-hugging sashes. They didn’t carry any actual money on them, only special credit tokens they earned for good and obedient behavior. Providing tokens to a shop keeper would let their bill be sent directly to Avm’s estate.

As the three girls continued down the street, a young fox boy of about ten years dashed up behind them and pushed himself between them, snatching Darla’s purse and running off before the girls could try to stop him. He giggled to himself as he escaped, this being a common game for the boys of the city to tease those who wore collars within the city. Though the tokens would become useless now, they were as good as medals of war among the groups of boys, especially those from the frilly sissy girly girls whose panties bulged extra thick.

He looked back to them, and was confused when he saw them smiling and giggling, waving a bit in his direction. ‘Stupid girls…’ he thought, turning his head forward again only to plow into a large black paw, stumbling and falling back on his rump.

The fox shook his head then blinked and looked up, his ears folding and his tail curling around him timidly at what he saw. It was a huge (in his perspective) black wolf, wearing a uniform of long brown pants, a black vest, a short sleeved white shirt and a bowtie attached to a navy blue collar around his neck. While the wolf looked aged in his features, his strong frame and large body exuded nothing but masculine empowerment and self confidence.

Reaching down, the wolf grabbed the fox kit by the back of his shirt, lifting him up into the air. His strong eyes looked directly into the boy’s timid ones, and then held out his paw to him. The kit meekly placed the purse he had snatched into the wolf’s paw, praying that he would be forgiven for his transgression.

Darla and her giggling friends arrived then, and the wolf gently handed the purse back to the mink. “You girls need to be more careful with your things. It’s no wonder Master insisted that I start joining you on your outings.” He stated simply.

Darla smiled and tucked her purse back into her sash, mewling “Thank you, Jeremy, sir! We’ll be more careful from now on.”

Jeremiah nodded, and then gave a stern glance down to the kit in his hand. “And you, little sir… I believe ten slaps to your rump will teach you not to steal.” He said, his voice even and calm.

The boy’s eyes grew wide with shock and he immediately shook his head hard. “P-please s-sir, d-don’t spank me! I’ll be good, I won’t do it again, please don’t spank me, please don’t spank me!” The blushing kit had begun to cry, his body curling up in fright as he hung there.

The wolf looked right at the boy’s tear-streaked face, and had to smile to himself a bit. No rage, no loss of control… “Five spanks.” He stated with a nod. Placing the boy on his feet and holding onto his wrist, he popped him five quick slaps to his rear, causing the boy to yelp and cry louder. Once he was free, the kit ran off, holding his pained behind and blushing with shame.

Jeremiah and the three girls shared a laugh, and then the wolf held his arms out for the girls to hold, continuing on their trip for the day.

 

 

“And so, class… I think we’ve clearly gotten a grasp of our multiplication tables for now. Isn’t that right?” the smooth purring voice asked, the sound of chalk being placed back on the blackboard tray.

“Yes Miss Chantrea.” The class, including Stephen, replied respectfully. They all sat meekly at their desks, knowing that since the lesson was over, the next part of the class would be…

“Now then… let’s get to the punishments I promised you all.” Chantrea said with an affectionate smile, the snow leopard turning from the chalkboard. She wore a mask still, but a far less intimidating one. It was a red half-mask, hiding the upper portion of her face while leaving her muzzle exposed. Upon it was carved a shark design that spanned over both of the eye holes, a beautiful piece of art that accentuated her features and made her appear far more exotic. Besides her mask, the adult feline wore a white button blouse and a long pleated skirt of golden plaid, with white stockings and her feet bare. Her collar was an earthy red that matched the color of her mask.

The class sat there quietly, their eyes following her paw as she slipped over to a rack against one wall, her fingers trailing across the handles of the punishment implements hanging from it. She eventually gripped a thin nursery switch and stood before the class, tapping the tip of the cane in her paw.

“So, does anyone wish to volunteer? I promise to go easier if you do.” Chantrea asked, quite enjoying her position over all the younger boys and girls, a mirthless and playful giggle proof of such feelings. A shudder passed through the students, and Stephen felt especially nervous with the way Chantrea kept glancing over at him from behind her mask.

“MISS CHANTREA!”

The snow leopard let out a yowl of surprise, jumping so violently that her mask toppled from her face and fell with a clatter to the floor. Blinking, her body curled up in a meek posture, hiding the switch behind her while looking toward the doorway, where a stern looking tigress stood, wearing a full dress with long sleeves in deep blue material and a pair of spectacles on her nose, not to mention the stern glare she wore quite blatantly upon her face.

“Y-y-yes, miss Samil?” Chantrea replied bashfully, a small blush appearing on her cheeks as the tigress approached. In truth, Miss Samil was perhaps only half a dozen years older than Chantrea, but to the class, all they could see was a very stern teacher of forty years about to lecture a teenaged girl of sixteen.

“I have told you before about conducting lessons in my absence. You are here as a teaching AIDE, Miss Chantrea, and you do not have permission to teach these children while I’m away. What did I tell you to have the class do while I was gone for thirty minutes?” Miss Samil demanded, one paw on her hip while her other was shaking a finger in front of Chantrea’s face.

The poor feline meekly toed the ground, sending a frustrated glance to the mask near her feet before looking to the teacher and explaining nervously “I… I was j-just trying to continue what you were teaching, Miss Samil. S-so that you wouldn’t have to go back to where you left off when you came back.”

“Mhmm, and that includes covering the entire multiplication section in one half of an hour AND…” scolded the tigress, grabbing the switch out from behind Chantrea’s back and pointing the tip to her nose. “Attempting to administer discipline!”

“Ah… ah… um…” Chantrea nervously replied, swallowing and trying to search for something to say that might save her. Any ideas she might have had came too late, for Miss Samil quickly forced her to bend over the teacher’s desk and pushed up the back of her skirt, revealing a pair of thick, pink training pants underneath.

“Ahhh!” Chantrea wailed, kicking her feet while her face blushed brightly through her white spotted fur. “M-m-miss Samil! P-please, not in front of everyone!”

“Since you seem to know so much, Chantrea…” Miss Samil returned, trying to emphasize the lack of ‘miss’ while pressing the nursery switch to her exposed bottom. “I want you to begin reciting your times tables, starting at ten. Do not stop until you have finished the fifteen times table.” With a quick swish and a sharp swat, a pained yelp coming from Chantrea, the tigress ordered “Begin.”

“T-ten times one is ten. AH!” she cried, her butt perking against the stroke laid across it. This was Miss Samil’s dreaded recitation punishment. Chantrea would be given one stroke for every correct answer, and any wrong answer would receive a stern ‘again’ and an extra stroke until she got the answer correct. Thankfully, the nursery switch was designed to be very soft and relenting, but fifty strokes with it, and perhaps more, would surely give the snow leopard a burning behind for the rest of the afternoon.

As she worked past the tens and into the elevens, Chantrea could hear the class giggling and laughing at her shame over the swish-swats being delivered by the teacher. Her face burned an even brighter red and her paws gripped into fists…

‘Why is this all so enjoyable?!’ she asked herself with frustration, trying to ignore the joyful swelling in her heart that grew with every swat of her punishment and ever laugh she heard.

 

 

Delia sighed to herself as she dried off from her bath, the hour late and the day’s training extensive. A few of her orders were being a bit troublesome as of late, but with a bit of extra pressure, she’d gotten them to behave properly. It still had tired her, though, and so she was ready for a nice rest to relax her for the oncoming day.

Upon entering her bedroom, still in the nude, she stepped over to an extra large cage, designed to resemble a house, ten feet by ten feet with a peaked roof ten feet above. The floor of the cage was padded, and covered with simple toys like balls and blocks, as well as a few stuffed dolls and a number of emptied glass baby bottles.

Unlocking the cage and opening the door, she made a soft kissing noise, cooing “Cashew. Come to Mama, sweetie, come on.”

From the corner of the cage toddled a young chipmunk boy, about ten years of age. He had a soft yellow coat against the white and black stripes running from his head down to his tail, and was naked save for a blue ribbon tied around his neck in a bow, covering his collar, and a set of thick diapers covered by snug rubber pants. He smiled and chattered up to her, stepping out of the cage and holding his arms up to her.

“Yes yes…” she said quietly, reaching down and lifting him up, placing him upon her hip before walking off toward the bed. She placed him upon it, then pulled open the covers and slipped under, propping herself on the pillows so her torso was above the sheets. She pulled the little munk close to her, and affectionately nuzzled his ears. Cashew simply let out a soft chitter of pleasure, closing his eyes while snuggling against her bare fur.

Delia casually stroked one of Cashew’s small ears, a small purr coming from within her. The boy was young, sweet, still impressionable and relatively untrained, though very obedient indeed. He’d come with the cage, a few toys, and a childish potty chair that would seat him his entire life. However… she began to find distaste with the potty, seeing it as something a person would use, not a pet. She eventually used the house-unbreaking suggestion Avm had given her, and found the act of changing a diaper not as unpleasant as she was lead to believe, as long as she fed her chipmunk a special pill daily that removed the scent from his ‘accidents’.

“Mmmm… mph.” she grunted lightly, casting a wary eye upon her small pet, watching him nuzzle and press his lips to her breast. He opened up a single brown eye, looking up to her sweetly with his tail batting behind him. Delia gave a mix of a sigh and a groan, adjusting the boy in her arms and her lap so he was pressed up to her teat. “You so much as nip me tonight, you’ll be sleeping in the wastebasket.” She warned sternly.

Cashew nodded and settled gratefully in her arms, taking her soft nipple into his mouth, being careful with his long front teeth as he nursed. Delia winced slightly and turned her eyes away, feeling somewhat bashful. Her nipples had grown so sensitive from letting the boy nurse from her… and her bosom was starting to slowly grow… she knew if she let this continue, her pet would soon be drawing milk from her… yet those soft eyes… so sweet, so innocent, the part she most adored about any well trained pet… how could she resist them?

 

 

“Magnificent, Talaith.” Praised Megan, the skunk watching her newest servant stand stock still with her arms spread, balancing not one but five books carefully upon her head. Talaith, often referred to as Tala for a pet name, was a young badger female of thirteen years, her body a product of fine northern breed. Instead of the expected girth of a healthy badger, Tala came from a family of more demure stature, born with not only a lithe frame but an inborn strength that rivaled any regular badger. Falling upon debts due to failing forest produce, Talaith had allowed herself to be sold into slavery to prevent her family from falling into poverty. Thankfully, Avm had been the one to purchase her, ensuring her a safe home of service and lessons instead of something darker and far more harrowing for a child of such tender years.

Avm had revealed this story to Megan before he had settled their bet, and as such the skunk insisted that the badger be the one to belong to her. She told herself time and again that it was the girl’s lineage that interested her, the perfected semblance of grace and power, and not the awe-inspiring sacrifice for the sake of family. She continued to tell herself that for about a week. The first time that Tala requested to call her mistress ‘Nana’ changed any such thought completely.

Talaith was holding herself very still, not moving, not blinking, not smiling at the praise from her mistress nor acknowledging it, knowing that any such thoughts would cause her to topple the books completely. The old skunk chuckled lightly, and then carefully pulled the books off the girl’s head. “You can relax, child.” She told her, setting the books on a nearby table.

Talaith nodded and let her arms fall before her, gently folding them together on the skirt of her bright pink maid uniform. It was quite frothy with white lace and petticoats, the skirt hem falling just at her knees while an apron resembling a pinafore was tied around her waist, the straps quite soft and extra wide to provide material to making the sizable butterfly bow at the small of Tala’s back. A gift from Avm to go with the presented pet, Megan found it absolutely degrading and juvenile, something no self respecting person over the age of three would allow themselves to wear. In a word, Megan adored it, and had entire set of similar uniforms purchased for Tala, each in a different pastel shade.

Megan sat herself down in a nearby chair and beckoned Talaith with a wave of her paw, saying “Come here, my dear. Lift your skirt for Nana so she can check you.” Tala nodded and obediently stepped over, lifting the front of her skirt before the skunk to reveal her diapers, covered with rubber pants and a pair of white frilled diaper panties over that.

“Tell Nana what else there is to do today, Tala dear.” Megan instructed, lifting her hand and carefully placing two fingers within the legging of the girl’s diapers.

“I have my ballet lessons in half an hour, Nana. When we come home from that, I am to study my language and history books until supper. After supper is my bath time, and once that is done, I am to have my bedtime bottle of milk and story before going to sleep at eight.” Tala recited sweetly, making sure not to fidget as her diapers were checked.

Megan nodded and lowered Tala’s skirt, taking the girl’s paws and bringing her in close to lay a warm kiss upon her forehead. Tala gratefully accepted the kiss, and her shy smile grew wider, feeling so accomplished before her mistress.

“Before all that however, you missed one little appointment.” The skunk told her, standing up and walking over to a long, sturdy coffee table within her study. Pulling an ottoman over and seating herself upon it, she smiled with a playful warmth toward the girl, cooing “You need your diapers changed, my dear. So be a good girl and fetch your changing needs… and make sure at least three others spot you on the way back.”

Tala blushed brightly and quickly looked to the floor, fussing with the hem of her skirt while pressing her toe tips together. “Y-y-yes Nana!” she yipped, the bashful badger quickly leaving the room, not forgetting to walk in an upright, proper gait while the sound of Megan’s warm chuckling followed after her.

 

 

The sound of creaking metal filled the dark room. While it might appear to be an elaborate torture chamber at first, filled with duplicitous mechanical gear loaded down with weights and straps, it was in fact intended for strength training.

Cremel sat alone within the room, his arms pulling a metal bar down onto his shoulders and let it back up again, the machine straining with the amount of weight he had put on it. His bare chest was soaked with sweat, yet he showed no signs of fatigue. His nostrils flared as he started another set, his dark eyes blazing within his sockets.

Strength was all that mattered. All that ever had mattered. All that ever would matter. He would prove that for sure, yes… to everyone within this city, and especially to that blasted jaguar… he licked his teeth slowly… he would have that jaguar on a spit, roasted alive… he would not lose again.

 

 

Avm sat within his study alone, his chair in front of the veranda windows that looked out onto the city street. Snow covered the rooftops and the city streets, yet he could see the common folk of the city mingling with the slaves, both trudging their way through the snow, both set in performing their duties of the day.

The jaguar smiled, slowly lifting a cup of coffee to his lips and taking a slow sip. He sighed, and then looked toward the clear winter sky, purring “It looks to be a lovely spring.”

 

 

The End