She’d never actually been to the Cathouse. She’d not even seen pictures of it. If she had, her nerve surely would have failed. It sat nearly at the peak of Verss, elegant with its peaked roof and vast expanse of glass for a front. You could see right into it, though there wasn’t much to see this early in the morning. There was a front room, red velvet curtains for a back wall, a corridor, a sort of wooden pole in front of a railing-less balcony that looked out over the front room. Magarce looked again- was that a bed in the front room? And in front, settling into a chair with a cup of something, perhaps coffee, an elegant grey Nerre greeting the morning. It could only be Faisand.

The car was already in front of the place, and Conessi gave Magarce a look. She had not spoken to the little cat ever since Magarce had asked about other weapons that might be in the car. Plainly, Magarce had hit upon the Estrai woman’s big secret, and the vixen wanted nothing from Magarce now but her absence.

“…wish me luck?” said Magarce, her hand on the car door handle.

Conessi considered this for a moment- and just looked at Magarce again, with the same ill-tempered expression. Magarce pulled the handle, opened the door, and got out. As she did, the car lurched forward, making a hasty U-turn and heading straight back down to the lower levels of Verss where it belonged. She hadn’t even waited for Magarce to close the door, and it swung wildly open, then slammed with a well-judged swerve of the vehicle.

Magarce stood there staring after it. She had never respected politeness, but the sheer rudeness of the smuggler vixen shocked her. It was like a judgement…

“Can I help you?” said Faisand, from where she sat. Magarce whirled to look at her, and Faisand looked warily back, her ears slightly flattened in mistrust. Could she be remembering the scene on the Verss street, where she’d kissed Benjen and… and…

Magarce burst into tears, and stood there awkwardly, with absolutely nowhere to go and nothing reasonable to do or say.

Faisand watched this for a few seconds, her lovely ears perked forward and catching every nuance with the discrimination of one who’d made a life out of sensory experience. Just a few seconds.

“Well, dear, that won’t do.” she said. “Come inside. Come! That’s right. This way.”

Before Magarce knew it, the famous woman had an arm around her, was guiding her across the sidewalk towards the Cathouse door. She smelled delightful. Through a tearful glance, Magarce was startled to see that the famous Faisand was actually very old- up close, it was plain enough, unmistakable. Her body felt wiry and lean beneath the silky dress she wore.

“Arle! Arle! One of ours! Second time this week! This one’s older!”

Magarce was startled to see that it was indeed a bed in the front room, and it was occupied. From this bed arose a ball of disheveled white fluff rubbing its eyes and yawning, showing pointy Nerre teeth. It was a very wide ball of fluff. Magarce wiped her eyes and looked again, and it wasn’t just fluff, it was a bouncing, voluptuous longhaired Nerre, stark naked and hopping out of bed to stagger groggily over to Faisand and her guest.

“Why you gotta wake me up for this?” yawned the fat fluffy longhair.

“Because if I get any early trade, I need to get them off the street right away. You know they don’t like loitering this early in the morning. Especially the special ones…”

“Oh, don’t even mention those, please?”

“And this girl’s crying and upset. Come on, Demarle, I need your assistance. Give her some breakfast or something, figure out what the problem is, would you? My audience won’t wait.”

“Your audience is the special ones a lot of the time, lately…” complained Demarle.

Faisand did not take this well. Her ears flattened, and she looked like she was ready to hiss and spit at the white fluffball, but instead she just turned and stalked off, back out the door, to sit in front of the Cathouse and wait, the tip of her tail flicking in an affronted manner. After a bit of that, they saw her run a hand behind her, stroking and smoothing her tail and calming the errant tailtip.

Magarce and Demarle watched this in silence, and then Demarle glanced at the little, tearful, grey-pointed Nerre dressed in oversized, ridiculous pajamas.

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“Is she very angry with you?” asked Magarce.

“Yeah, but I deserve it.” said Arle cheerfully. “I give her crap about the special clients. Only fair, they give her the same thing. Sure turns a profit, though.”

“What?”

“What she does. But seriously, what’s up? Ya want some breakfast? What brings you here? We didn’t used to get so many strays. You’re a little bigger than Nifi. Why us? Don’t tell me you want to work here, you don’t look like you get a lot of Runge dick. You’d probably explode…”

“Oh, I do. Did.” said Magarce, forlornly. “I kind of do explode- if it’s good.” She wiped her eye, pulling herself together.

“Reeeeally?” said the big white fluffball. “You don’t say. You look like a bit of a sad sack in those pee-jays, and we’re not really a home for orphans, whatever Nifi might think…”

Magarce didn’t want to get dragged onto the subject of orphans. So many people she knew had died, and that apparently wasn’t okay with Arle, so Magarce hastily tried to distract. “These aren’t mine! They’re really not. I like to run around naked- or in just a guy shirt. Quicker access, you know? Just brace yourself and hang on.” She wondered if she was coming off fake, or blustering too much.

Arle’s eyes glinted. “Are you bullshitting me? I can’t tell if you’re young or little. If you’re young and trying to impress, your ass is getting kicked out of here. We don’t do the protocol like they do back on Ause, but they have other rules here, and they’ll hold us to them if we give ‘em half a chance…”

“I hate protocol. And I am not young.” said Magarce with irritation and conviction. “And I’m not making any of this up.”

“Bold words.” said Arle, the tip of her tail flicking, her ears attentive. “If you’re not young, and not an orphan stray, who the hell are you?”

This left an opening wide enough for Magarce, her bravado, and her chutzpah, all to romp right in, and she did not hesitate. Her eyes flashed, her ears laid back, and she scrabbled at the unsuitable clothing, ripping it off heedlessly without another word. When it lay in rags around her, she advanced on the startled Demarle, her tail lashing. Arle retreated to her bed and sprawled backwards onto it, but this wasn’t enough for her tiny attacker, and Magarce sprang up onto the larger Nerre in a single pounce, and straddled her.

“I’m Magarce. I’ve killed lots of people, in lots of ways, and fucked lots more- in lots of ways. And you’re not going to condescend to me.”

Demarle gulped. She joked, feebly, “Right. And… both at once? For good measure?”

Magarce’s eyes gleamed very green, and seemed to grow wilder. Somehow, right now, it all made sense.

“Yeah.” she said. “Twice. And the second time- I loved him.”

Demarle couldn’t speak. Her eyes were so wide as she fell helplessly into Magarce’s burning gaze, and as she breathed the deep, gasping breaths of a prey animal captured by the hunter, the pink nipples on her wobbling, fluffy breasts rapidly stiffened and swelled.

“Oh, my God.” said Demarle. “Ohmygod!”

The door opened- Faisand had seen movement inside, and was checking up. She took one look at the tableau and said, “Oh, no, you can’t be serious…”

“Faisand, leave us!” replied Demarle with all the determination in the world. Her body was quivering, and she had a lot of it to quiver with. Magarce had never seen such a reaction, and was nonplussed, for she’d meant to intimidate, but this was really something else.

The door banged behind Faisand as she returned to her post outside. Magarce stared down at her apparent victim, and realized she didn’t have a plan now that she’d accomplished her task so well. Rather than an argument, she had a big fat Nerre lady quivering beneath her in a state of high excitement for no reason she could see. “Ah… good, you’re taking me seriously. So, uh…”

“Take me!” pleaded Demarle.

Magarce blinked. “I haven’t got a penis! I mean, yeah, I like the mood you’re in, but…”

“Then let me take you!” pleaded Demarle, and Magarce blinked again.

“You sure wake up with some funny ideas! Do you have some kind of strap-on thing, or something? Sure, whip it out! I bet I can handle it!”

It was Demarle’s turn to blink, and then smirk, with an amusement as vast as she was. “Oooh! I like your attitude too, but I think you’ve got a lot to learn…”

“Oh yeah?” challenged Magarce. “I know lots!”

Demarle was beaming even as she quivered. “But you don’t know this… Oooooohhh. Let me please you. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you more than you ever imagined. You might never ask for a strap-on thing again…”

Magarce’s ears were quirked to the side. “Uhhh… I dunno, I like that kind of thing…”

Demarle just breathed, “My turn. Let me show you.” and her eyes danced with pleasure.

Slowly, the little grey-pointed Nerre nodded. Outside, Faisand glanced in through the window and snorted, returning her attention to the largely empty street.

Arle’s paws reached up to Magarce, gently, insistently. She did the same thing Benjen used to do- her hand wrapped part of the way around Magarce’s waist, fondled, stroked- but Magarce gasped, because the other Nerre’s claws had reached through her fur to delicately caress her skin, so lightly she could hardly believe it.

She looked down at Demarle, startled, but the white longhair put a finger to her own muzzle in a ‘shh’ gesture, the little curled claw standing out playfully as she did.

“Let me show you. Let me make you feel good.”

Magarce nodded uncertainly. She figured she’d got this far through being very aggressive, and was worried what would happen if she stopped doing that, but it didn’t seem to matter to Demarle. Magarce held her dominant pose crouched atop the mountain of white fluff, but Arle simply fondled her little body with increasing boldness and lecherousness- first with long stroking caresses, feeling her cupcake breasts, then drawing her down closer to lick Magarce’s belly, the underside of her breast, up next to the hardening nipples, then some tender suckling on Magarce’s left nipple while still gazing deeply into her eyes. Magarce found this a little alarming, for it seemed to demand a response, and she was still off balance and not really knowing where this was heading.

The answer, at least the immediate answer, was simple. She was off balance, and Demarle coaxed her, with stroking and gentle pressure, to lean over to the side, and gracefully sprawl onto the bed alongside her lover- who suddenly wasn’t so passive anymore. Instead, she seized Magarce in a passionate embrace, rubbing her body against Magarce’s, causing the smaller Nerre to wriggle and gasp.

“Relax! ‘scuse me! I just really like you, you know?”

Magarce had reason to know, as Arle’s paws ravaged her body. The fat longhair was stronger than she looked, stronger than she’d acted mere seconds before. Magarce’s fierceness had turned her on, but apparently her way of loving wasn’t to lie there and quiver. She fairly tossed Magarce about in the heat of her fondling passion, and the smaller feline started to respond, for something about it evoked the rowdy male…

“May I?” breathed Arle, in a wee, kittenish voice. She’d twisted around, and her head was zeroing in on Magarce’s legs- or, rather, between them. Magarce realized she’d kicked a leg out, and her tail was hard to the side. She couldn’t work out when she’d done that. She felt stirrings, urgent ones, but had no idea what Demarle intended. She just wanted it to start, whatever it was, right away.

“Yeah- go!”

Demarle dived right in, and Magarce felt her tongue caressing and tasting, seemingly with much delight, judging from the sounds the big white fluffball was making.

“Nggghhh!”

And not just her tongue, either- Demarle’s finger had cunningly slipped into Magarce’s pussy, and it was a decidedly fat finger- though the claw on it was deftly avoiding making its presence known.

“NnnyyyAAHHH!”

Not just one finger- two fingers, which cautiously wriggled and scissored inside Magarce.

“Hey, you weren’t fooling!” crooned Demarle, with interest. “You’ve had Runge! Maybe lots of them…”

“Told you ngghhhh!” managed Magarce, before being driven beyond coherence again. Her back arched, but the white Nerre pursued her intimate areas with voracious hunger, twiddling and suckling and sweeping Magarce up in the apparent sport of it all. Her enthusiasm was most contagious, intoxicating…

“Arle!”

Faisand again, leaning through the front door.

“Sorry about banging the door…”

Demarle paused in her erotic devouring of little Magarce, allowing the grey-pointed Nerre to catch her breath for a moment.

“Yeah, well, it is your door after all!” retorted Arle.

“No, really. Okay?”

“No problem!” said Arle, and the older cat withdrew more gently this time, to her station outside.

Magarce drew a breath to ask about the situation, but before she could form a word, feline tongue rasped lovingly along her labia and across her clit, and fat kitty fingers twiddled within her pussy as if making up for lost time. Her breath emerged as a fullbodied shriek.

“Who’s your friend?” came a little kittenish voice.

Arle paused again. “Nifi, go to your room.”

Magarce glanced around, alarmed, to see that a Nerre no larger than herself was watching from the balcony area overlooking the front room and bed.

“Not like I was asking you to do that stuff to me! I just wanted to know…”

“Alonifi, go to your room!”

Paws receded, a door banged.

“Sorry about this…” said Arle. “Is it putting you off?”

Magarce fought for breath. “Ahhh! hhh! hhhyou gonna stop? hhh?”

The larger Nerre’s voice teased, wickedly. “Only if you make me.”

Magarce had two words for that. “Like hell!”

Arle’s eyes glinted green, and then she dived for Magarce’s vagina again with renewed hunger, and Magarce’s back arched right off the bed as she bucked and writhed under Demarle’s determined ministrations…

She let the younger cat rest after a while. Smirking, purring, fingers quiescent and still snugly inside Magarce’s exhausted, liquefied pussy, Magarce’s fur around it a shocking mess from her own lubrications and Demarle’s dripping tongue. Demarle seemed still perfectly fresh. Magarce, conversely, was as wrung out as she had ever been, and more than a little awed.

She managed to speak. “How did you do that?”

“What, this..?”

“No!” squeaked Magarce hastily. “Enough! I mean… well, if you want?”

“Honor is satisfied.” smirked Demarle, and her fingers carefully withdrew, sending a shudder through Magarce’s body. “Want some cuddles? You were delicious.”

“Oh my god yes. Mmmmmm…”

Magarce curled up in Arle’s enfolding arms, purring even more loudly than the white fluffball, nestling into her embrace and nuzzling her large squishy tits- but then, a thought provoked her, and she rather feebly looked up at Arle, her ears quirked to the sides. “So… you gonna keep me?”

“I could just fuck you and pour you out the door.” teased Arle. “Can you walk?”

“No, really, you need to keep me, I’ll do stuff for you!”

“We’ve got in-house pussy, honey. You’re not bringing anything we don’t have already. Come visit, a lot, how about?”

“You’re so mean!” protested Magarce. “How can you be so… so submissive, and then like this?”

“They call it switch- and I’ve got responsibilities. Faisand knows. Did you notice she didn’t stay mad? She realized I wasn’t going to be a pushover.”

Magarce’s whole body glowed, but her mind scrambled, in a dreamy, sated way, to find something to persuade the unexpectedly stubborn fluffball. This squishy fluffball was a lot tougher than she looked, and suddenly she had all the control- but Magarce remembered the things that had impressed her at first. “I’ll… I won’t just fuck for you, I’ll also do security. Ha! Bet you forgot that!”

Arle blinked. “Beg your pardon? What do you mean, security?”

“Get me a gun. I’ll be your house cop or whatever. Nobody will cross me. I’m an incredibly good shot. I got into Erckt Point naked with only a gun and willpower. Seriously!”

“You what? Honey, you’re not very big or intimidating- though I believe the naked part, from you…” Demarle’d grown hesitant, and Magarce seized the opening.

“I did.” she said, locking eyes with Demarle. “I did. Let me be on your team. Let me be security.”

“It’s more of a mob than a team…”

“Good.” said Magarce. “I like mobs. The pirates were a mob, too.”

“You’re a space pirate?” said Arle, and Magarce went for the kill.

“I’m everything- and I’m all yours. Keep me, and our world will be amazing.”

Demarle could only nod, adoration in her eyes. The little grey-pointed Nerre girl had virtually hypnotized her, and she petted her new hire with awe and tenderness, carefully holding two sticky fingers clear of Magarce’s elegant short fur.

Alonifi wasn’t the only one waking to greet the morning. Magarce saw a tall, golden creature, a towering rangy Nerre lady, stumble groggily along the balcony and fix herself coffee, with very poor accuracy and much spillage. The balcony seemed to feature what could only be described as a little cafe- a counter with foodstuffs, tables, chairs. It seemed to be there just for the purpose of spectacle, and Magarce wondered how true that was.

“Arle? More strays?”

The voice came from the other side of the balcony, directly over the bed that Magarce was in, and she glanced up in startlement. An elegant, compact black-furred Nerre in a satiny red dress stood looking down at her, and didn’t look over-pleased.

“More than that- our new security!” replied Demarle. “At least if half of what she says is true…”

“Which half?” said the newcomer, and she swept over to that wooden pole that ran from floor to roof, and latched on with four sets of claws, clambering down to join Magarce and Demarle on the ground floor. Magarce blinked, for the black feline had flashed some bits of pink in her descent- she was wearing an elegant dress, but nothing under it. The same may have been true for Faisand. It made Magarce feel oddly at home.

The newcomer’s cool, appraising look did not.

“Tery, be fair,” said Demarle, “you know I want to turn over that gun to someone who likes the things…”

“Gun?” chirped Magarce, her ears perking.

“Yes.” said the black cat. “And it’s Brittery, to you. I see Arle’s had her fun with you, but how the fuck does that make you a bodyguard?”

“I’m a pirate, not a bodyguard! And I’m an incredible shot. I’m a combat specialist.” said Magarce.

“You mean, you can strip down weapons as well as your scrawny tail?”

“Show me the gun!” demanded Magarce, of Arle, who was so entranced by the tiny terror that she promptly flounced over to the side of the bed and rummaged in a drawer cunningly hidden in the bedframe.

“Uhhh…” said Brittery, worriedly, but it was too late- Arle had turned back with a small handgun that Magarce immediately caught up and studied, her eyes gleaming a merry green.

“So you’re gonna… disassemble it? Show us what you can do?”

“Sure. I think that one up there spilled her coffee?” replied Magarce, looking at the gun.

“What, Daucery? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Want to see her spill more?” said Magarce, not looking up.

“What?”

BANG!

Magarce had barely glanced at the distant Daucery, who was groggily trying to drink her coffee- only to have it explode in front of her. The little grey-pointed terror’s paw had flashed out faster than the eye could follow, aiming and snapping off a shot that destroyed Daucery’s coffee mug without touching the golden feline at all- Daucery sat dumbfounded, staring at a mug-handle she held in her paw.

Exulting in her cleverness, Magarce looked around for applause. It was not going to be her day for applause.

Demarle cowered back, clearly horribly upset. Perhaps she had never even fired the weapon herself, and seeing it fired had not comforted her.

Brittery stood, bristling all over, her eyes flaming a hysterical, nervous-tension green worse than even Magarce’s went, and terrifyingly wide and wild. She was frozen in place, and Magarce saw at a glance that she was in one of those manic states where she might attack savagely- yet she was supposed to be among those Magarce was protecting.

In seconds, Faisand had dashed for the door, got halfway in and had frozen in turn, ears flattened, though bristling less. Of course, she’d been outside, not in an enclosed space with a gunshot.

Magarce glanced back and forth, perplexed, the gun raised in her paw. In retrospect, this hadn’t been a good career move.

“What the hell was that?”

Daucery, up on the balcony, was the only person not intimidated.

“It was me!” called Magarce. “I’ll make you another coffee, okay? Sorry about that one?”

“Who the hell are you?” replied Daucery.

“I’m your new security! Uh, bodyguard!”

“Yeah, well, I think you got the coffee maker as well, bodyguard!”

“Oh no! Here…” said the tiny terror, pressing the warm gun into Demarle’s shaking paw. Magarce knew that Arle would not use it on her- she was completely intimidated- and Brittery showed all the signs of attacking with claws and teeth, not weapons, something Magarce wanted to get away from. She turned away from Arle, scampered for the wooden pole, swarmed up it and went to console Daucery, who still held her mug-handle as if it might be retaining some imaginary essence of coffee, and who wore an affronted expression.

Below, Faisand, Demarle and Brittery conferred, and Faisand took the weapon and hastily went back outside again. Demarle made as if to hug Brittery, but backed off without making contact, for the black feline’s tension was still too great for a safe approach.

Faisand returned, gun-less. She stalked immediately to the wooden pole, and promptly came up it, approaching Daucery and Magarce.

“Girl, you’ve got to leave, please. You’re not safe.”

“But… noooo! Not fair, Faisand! She said show us what you can do!”

“Target practice, indoors? No, dear! And what are you talking about? Show who?”

“Brittery told me to do it!” protested Magarce. “She said to show what I could do! Demarle gave me the gun and Brittery told me to show us…”

“Are you joking, girl?” said Faisand, but it was Daucery who answered.

“I think she’s right. I sure didn’t see anything like a struggle. They were all real low-key, and then bang! And I think I remember hearing that, yeah.”

“They gave this girl the gun,” said Faisand disbelievingly, “and Brittery told her to show off with target practice? And shoot at you? From across the… from down there?”

“Kinda!” said Magarce brightly.

“Look at her!” snapped Faisand.

Magarce did. Brittery was in a pitiable state. She was still frozen, keening a faint cry. Suddenly, she lashed out, as if to rip a big chunk off the end of the bed. She let out a yowl, dashed for the pole, flew up it as if from a huge spring. Magarce cringed back as the vengeful black feline hit the balcony, but she wasn’t approaching the others at all. She rushed off the other direction, down a corridor that ran down the center of the building, and a door slammed.

Faisand sighed. “Witness the result of your so-helpful contribution…”

“What was that about?” said Magarce.

“Don’t just do things Tery says to do! She is high-strung, her judgement isn’t always sound! I cannot believe you fired a gun in here…”

“I can’t believe she shot my mug out of my hand from across the house!” said Daucery.

“I told you I was a crack shot! Well, I told her. And Demarle…”

“Enough!” said Faisand. “You won’t find that gun easily. Don’t try to find it. Don’t bring any more of them in here…”

“I haven’t got any more. They got taken away at Erckt Point.”

“Good.” said Faisand. “We cannot trust you with such things, certainly not until we teach you how we do things around here. I don’t believe the danger Arle and Tery have put us in. Tery deserves her hysterics. How could you have taken her so literally?”

“I’m sorry.” said Magarce. “I knew I wasn’t going to hurt the golden kitty?”

“Golden kitty, I like that.” said Daucery. “This little girl’s kinda incredible.”

“I’m not a little girl!”

“How about little monster?” suggested Daucery. “Compared to me, you’re gonna be little no matter what.”

“How about, your valiant protector?” said Magarce, still trying to manipulate the situation as hard as she could. “Doer of a tough, dangerous job guarding the beautiful Faisand and all the rest of you?”

Faisand’s ear did not twitch at the description, ‘the beautiful Faisand’, though it was more of historic relevance than immediate accuracy. However, her eyes softened a bit.

“Maybe, girl. Maybe. Excuse me- I must go see to Brittery.”

“No, but really, how am I supposed to protect you if I can’t shoot people attacking you?”

Demarle had gathered her courage, and climbed the pole to join Magarce and Daucery. She said, “Why’d you do that?” in a small, cautious voice.

“Because I could?”

“I like this one!” chuckled Daucery. “Half my size and three times the ‘tude. Were you fucking her, Arle? I think I heard noises.”

“Yeah.” said Demarle.

“With what, your little finger?”

“Two fingers. Scissor kickin’. The whole deal, just like with you.”

“You’re kidding.” blinked Daucery. “How is that possible?”

“She’s had a lot of Runge dick- or more, if there is such a thing. She’s as roomy as you, Cery, or nearly.”

“Hah!” said Daucery. “Mixed damn blessing!”

Magarce interrupted. “Yes yes, but what am I supposed to do to be your bodyguard or whatever? I mean, um, actually I know all about that, but I mean, without a gun…”

Daucery looked a little skeptical. “Are you kidding? If someone gets feisty, wrestle them out. Or into my room.” She licked her lips.

“Oh, Daucery…” said Demarle, but didn’t continue.

“Since you can’t do that,” said Daucery, “and since you’re already a little wolftoy, maybe we can put you to work? You and me can team up on guys. It would be hilarious.”

Demarle glanced in the direction Faisand had gone, worriedly, but Magarce wasn’t going to wait for the opinions of older and wiser cats. “Yeah! Um… why hilarious?”

“The look on their faces?” suggested Daucery.

Magarce wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, but she didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. There was a noise at the door, and she glanced over to see a male Runge, peering in worriedly.

“Let’s do it!” declared Daucery, and strode off towards the wooden pole, beginning to descend it.

“Cery! Get paid!” cried Demarle. Magarce noted this, and asked, “She forgets? How much should she get?”

“At least six hundred!”

Magarce scrambled down the pole herself, chasing after Daucery, who bore down on the hapless Runge with a slinking, hip-swinging prowl that left nothing to the imagination. Magarce realized she was more or less scampering, and slowed up, trying to figure out in a hurry how to walk all sexy. All that happened was that she stumbled, gave up, and resumed skittering along after the tall golden Nerre woman.

Upstairs, Faisand had returned. Magarce could hear her protesting. “They should be clothed! What if it had been a cop? The little one doesn’t know better, but we’ve told Cery before! And we haven’t got a license for… Arle, I don’t even know her name!”

“It’s Magarce,” replied Demarle, “and I’ll get busy on all that right away…”

Daucery was approaching the customer, purring “Helloooo… have we got a treat for you!”

“Uh, you do? Sounds, uh, interesting… how much?”

“Six hundred.” said Magarce. “I mean, seven.”

The guy raised a scruffy eyebrow. “You said six. You gotta stick with six, we all heard it. What’s this treat?”

“I said seven!”

“You said six, first. You wanna get out of the way? I got business with my friend here. You heard her say six, right?”

Daucery shrugged elegantly. “Whatever.”

“What’s the treat?”

Magarce squeaked as Daucery seized her and dragged her directly in front of the wolf. “Right here!”

The guy’s eyes popped as he took in the situation. “You’re shittin’ me. Her?”

“Both of us!” said Daucery. “Two sizes, two styles, two ways! It’s going to be the best thing ever!”

The guy seemed wary. “She legal? I mean, you Nerre have your ways, but this is Verss here. I ain’t fuckin’ no kid, no matter how much you think it’s a treat, just sayin’…”

“I am not a kid!” insisted Magarce.

“She’s not, she’s not…” explained Daucery excitedly. “Here’s how it works. We go off to a room. We’ll make a big fuss of you, it’ll be great. And you’ll do us two ways, two opposite ways. You start with, with…”

“Magarce!”

“With Magarce, here, and you gotta be real gentle. She’s so little. You be real careful and just savor it…”

“He doesn’t have to be…” said Magarce.

“Ssh! And then to finish up… you’ll fuck me. V.. violently.” Daucery stammered this last, her body trembling.

The guy stared. “All that. For six hundred? Seriously?”

Magarce sulked. “You’re the one saying it has to be six hundred, because I said it…”

“Yeah but both of you? Wow! Never mind, we can go seven hundred, no problem. Wow! Really?”

Daucery was still trembling. “But it has to be now! Let’s go now!”

Magarce gave her a sidelong look. The big golden kitty seemed awfully insistent, and Magarce was first in line for fucking, according to Daucery’s script. But it was still in line with what she’d hoped she’d find in Verss- if anything, it was suspiciously too good, everything she’d hoped to get from the Cathouse. She eyed the Runge male, who now seemed nearly as eager as Daucery. She suspected this double-teaming normally ran much higher. The guy acted like he was getting an amazing bargain, a chance of a lifetime, and she vowed to ask Demarle or Faisand what price she should have set.

Later.

“Sure. Both of us, seven hundred.” said Magarce casually. “Me first. Be gentle.” She found the idea amusing after her time with the space pirates, but the idea seemed to excite the guy.

Daucery was already leading them toward the downstairs corridor, nestled in deep red curtains that ran the width of the building. They made the balcony above look like some kind of stage. As they passed into the corridor, lined with more curtains and lit only with warm glowing lights, Magarce had the feeling of being led into the heart of what the Cathouse had to offer- stiflingly romantic and elegant, decorously groomed, and yet with the strange overtones brought by such as Daucery, with her inexplicable urgency. She seemed to be making for a specific door along the darkened corridor.

Magarce felt the more familiar urgency of a nearby Runge male intent on mating her, and the delightful mystery of his unfamiliarity. Daucery was leading them to a place dedicated to the lusts of Runge males. Magarce thought this seemed like a fine sort of place, and perhaps it explained Daucery’s intensity. Or perhaps it would be revealed as a weird chamber of horrors, with whips and chains, or vats of slime, or some impossible thing that would explain why the golden kitty was still trembling and panting with excitement…

The door opened, and it was nothing of the sort. There was a palatial, four-poster bed, but no chains to be seen. The place was loaded with mirrors, in every direction- if you were on the bed, anywhere you looked, you’d see what you were doing, from countless angles and perspectives.

“This bed’s way firmer than any of the others.” said Daucery, and her eyes danced madly with glee.

“And that matters because?” said Magarce.

“Won’t matter with you.” said Daucery. “Sorry- what he does to you, it might be nice to have the bed all soft and gentle too. Some other time? But it’ll help what he does to me.”

“Yeah?” said the guy.

“Yeah.” said Daucery. “You can brace yourself better. I might even go for the floor…”

“In which case we could’ve picked a better bed?” said Magarce.

“No floor.” said the guy. “Beds are for fuckin’.”

Daucery looked disappointed for a moment, and then sprang onto the bed. “Come on! Let’s start!”

Magarce and the Runge guy looked at each other.

“Is she always like this?” he said.

“Maybe. Shall we?” said Magarce. “It sounds delightful.” She remembered to add, “Just be gentle with me, remember…”

The Runge licked his lips, startling Magarce with the sudden show of wolf tongue. “What, you’re a virgin?”

“Oh my God no! Um… you wanted me to be?”

“Of course not. But I think I get what your friend has in mind… yeah, we can do it real tenderly, how’s that?”

Magarce realized he was staring at her, all over her, from her exposed cupcake breasts to her slim legs, and most of all, between those legs where Demarle’s excesses had left her in a disheveled, untidy state. The contour of her mons was highlighted by the unkempt fur, and she felt the kiss of cool air between her very slightly pouting labia, beginning to be aroused again after their so-recent excitement.

The guy added, “You are so not a virgin, kitten. But I think I like it better that way, no guilt, right?”

Magarce giggled nervously. “Right. So…” She extended a paw. The guy took it, bending down a little to be at her level (and still not quite getting there), and led her to the bed, put hands under her arms and lifted her onto it with seemingly no effort.

“You liked that!” cried Daucery.

“Yeah, I…”

“Not you!” giggled Daucery. “Look at his pants!”

They were projecting fiercely against the zipper, and the guy was shifting from paw to paw in discomfort.

“Off with them…” began Daucery, but Magarce interrupted, “What’s your name?”

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then both spoke at once. Daucery said, “You never ask that!”, but the guy simply said “Benesch. You really are different!”

“Sorry!” said Magarce. “How can I make it up to you?”

“I think you can figure out a way.” rumbled the guy pleasantly. He winked.

“Take his pants off.” directed Daucery. “And start him!”

She didn’t need to. The guy… Benesch… sat on the edge of the bed, and methodically removed all his clothing. He was pretty well hung, which didn’t escape the attention of Daucery, though of course there was no telling how big his knot was going to get. His eyes twinkled, and he moved toward Magarce on hands and knees, his dick dangling scarlet beneath him. “Now, let’s see…”

“Sure! You can see all you want…” said Magarce, and rolled onto her back, wriggling and stretching, allowing her legs to part for him. She tried looking sultry at him like Demarle had looked at her, but suspected she was only squinting and making faces, and hastily abandoned the attempt.

Benesch’s ears perked up, and his tongue lolled, and his dick hardened and projected forward. “Wow, check you out. Hey, you want to ride on top, if you’re so small? You know, control it more?”

“Y… no!” Magarce suddenly had a vision of Benz. Straddling him, reeling in ecstacy until her world was white sparkles and then returning to see the terrible, fatal look in his eyes… “No. You get on top of me. Not me on top.”

“Be very gentle!” insisted Daucery. “Move really slowly. Get all worked up and frustrated…”

Both Magarce and Benesch glanced at her, bemused. Benesch said, “Ain’t that frustrating. What, am I not going to fit into the little kitty? It’s all pushing at the entrance to heaven?”

Magarce sniggered. “Not likely!”

Daucery was undeterred. “You save the rough stuff for me! Go real slow!”

Benesch glanced again, and shrugged. “That suit you, Magarce?”

“I guess!” said Magarce. “Yeah, actually it sounds nice- let’s do it!”

Benesch moved in, right on top of the little grey-pointed Nerre. So did Daucery, and their glances were even more alarmed this time.

“What?” snapped Benesch.

Daucery licked her lips, a little pink scrap of tongue compared to the Runge model. “I’m gonna help. Trust me, trust me…”

“You cool with this, uh, Magarce?” he said.

“I’m kinda new here- they know some real tricks- yeah, let her do whatever she wants, let’s see.” said Magarce. She thought for a moment, and added, “Don’t you like girls pleasuring each other?”

“Now that you mention it, that is kinda hot, yeah…”

“Don’t move fast!” cautioned Daucery. Benesch made a face, and added, “Telling me how to fuck, on the other hand…”

Magarce reached up and caressed his wolfish muzzle, and then curled up under him, her paws around her ears, her dainty puss quivering expectantly inches from Benesch’s hardening erection. “Let’s see what it’s like. Maybe she knows something we don’t know?”

Benesch looked skeptical, but he went along with it. Slowly, lingeringly, even mockingly, his hips crept forward. His cock nearly touched Magarce’s small, pouting vulva- and then pulled back abruptly, for Benesch wasn’t satisfied with his stance, and shuffled his paws a bit, bracing himself for better leverage.

Daucery looked like she was going to say something, but Benesch gave her a frustrated glare, and she stayed quiet. Strangely, her eyes went very green to see his mild anger, and her trembling worsened.

Magarce held her pose, almost trembling herself, because she wasn’t used to such anticipation and timing, watching in fascination as the big wolf’s back dipped and his hips arced toward her with mocking, even sarcastic slowness. It was like he was making fun of Daucery by going in literal slow motion. A quick look showed that it wasn’t making him go limp- if anything, he’d got even harder, though it was difficult to tell…

He touched Magarce right where she pouted and glistened for him, and two things instantly became clear. One was that he had indeed gone harder- he was like rock, unyieldingly stiff, and her body was compelled to make room. The other thing was that he made no effort to be gentle, for all the slowness of him. His motion was the gradual shift of tensed muscles, slow to appease Daucery’s demands, utterly inexorable to rebel against them, and he was going to thrust his cock into the little catgirl, at full stiffness, whether she was ready or not.

Magarce’s juices were ready, but her muscles were not. She’d been distracted and hadn’t really got into that molten-pelvis state of feline butter-churn that Nerre delighted in, and a band of supple muscle inside her stated firmly that it needed a moment, as it felt Benesch’s cock steadily tuck between her labia, press slickly on in, pry her entrance open… and Magarce gasped, then emitted a sharp yowl, as Benesch kept on going, pressing into her like a hydraulic ram and steadily stretching her regardless of any taut bands of protesting pussy.

Daucery’s face darted in to give Magarce’s nipple a lick. Her eyes gleamed, though she couldn’t fault the guy’s slowness. Technically, he’d done as she demanded, and he seemed to be concentrating on it still.

Magarce panted, her eyes wild, as she felt the wolf cock thrusting so slowly into her. Benesch really was a wiseass- he hadn’t given her a bit of slack while entering her, and her hips wriggled as she tried to uncramp and get into it. He didn’t seem to mind the tightness- in fact, he seemed to be savoring it. He thrust deeper and deeper, until Magarce felt a bulkier place enter her, another delicious sear of thickness wedging into…

“Don’t tie her!”

Benesch glanced at Daucery again, frustrated. “And what if I did?”

“She’s little- save that for me!”

Magarce wanted to explain that she’d had Runge knots at times, but she didn’t get the chance. Daucery began licking her nipple again, Benesch resumed the slow-motion thrusting, this time tugging himself out, and on top of it all, Magarce felt a paw sneak down between her legs, where Benesch transfixed her, and it began caressing and tickling her clit even while the knot swelled and reluctantly freed itself from her tight confines.

She gasped, her body shuddering, and let out a breathy yowl as she began to come. Something about the strangeness of it all, and especially Benesch’s unforgiving hydraulics imitation, had got to her. She felt impaled on a robot wolf, who even now continued his sedate, totally merciless slow motion.

“Give her one more, twice as fast…” purred Daucery, her paw busy between Magarce’s legs.

“Right.” said Benesch, and he sounded angry, and he did exactly what Daucery said- the stiff cock firmly thrust twice as fast into Magarce, and Magarce began squirming and wailing under the strain. It was just getting good- she was just beginning to melt around him, become drunk on the sensation as it went twice as fast, and then perhaps twice as fast again and again until he was churning her in some manic impossible state…

“Now! Now! Me now! Do it! Hard as you can!”

Or not.

Benesch yanked right out of Magarce, leaving her sprawled like a puddle, and leapt onto Daucery’s back. She’d crouched and presented for him, and Magarce could see how juicy and eager she was, and Benesch had barked “You asked for it!” and seized her. It was as if he was venting his annoyance this way, and she did nothing to dissuade it. Her tail stuck out to the side rigidly, her whole body was shaking with desire, and the next thing Magarce knew, there was a mighty squelch. Benesch had jabbed it into her to the hilt.

Daucery let out an unholy shriek, and the bedclothes scrunched as all her claws dug in at once.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”

His back convulsed and whipped his hips back and forth. The sound was beyond belief, like toilet plungers. The bed shook each time his crotch thumped Daucery’s quivering butt. Magarce was sure she was seeing a glimpse of his dick plunging into Daucery and yanking out, but it seemed excessive- there was a shape in there that got clearer and clearer, the notorious Runge knot, but she had him so worked up that he was jabbing it into her pussy and yanking it out, and Magarce knew that was impossible…

“Oh YEAH!”

All at once, Benesch rammed it to the hilt, and this time he stopped moving, except his body shuddered. Daucery screamed hoarsely as he did it, and kept caterwauling breathlessly while he held his pose. Magarce knew quite well why- his knot was tying her to him, and he couldn’t thrust now even if he wanted to. The trouble was, from the sounds of it, he’d been popping it in and out of her right up to the last moment. Magarce couldn’t imagine doing that, and she also had never heard of Runge doing it with each other. Not even the pirates got up to that. It was just not physically possible- unless, perhaps, you were a very large and very aroused Nerre who melted in coitus, someone who did not tie the way the Runge did.

Magarce watched Daucery yowl, her body shuddering and bristling irregularly with what was apparently a really exhausting orgasm. Her nipples were standing out like little rocks. Magarce realized hers were as well. Though she was still wobbly, she rolled over, moved to Benesch, and rubbed up against him affectionately while he emptied his balls into Daucery’s un-wolfish womb.

“Ya like it? The two ways?”

“Ahhhmmm! Wow.” said Benesch. “Maybe not an every day thing! But yeah… amazing…”

“Do you usually get to do it like that?” said Magarce.

“Kitty, I’ve never done it like that. Hey, whoa, your friend’s kinda…” he said, for Daucery had passed out, and dangled from his knot limply.

“She’s very kinda.” said Magarce critically. “I’d like you have you again sometime- let you keep going.”

“Like that?

“Are you crazy? No, of course not. But you wouldn’t have to be all slow motion either. Were you making fun of Daucery with that?”

“Yeah. You like it?”

“Mmmmm… learned a new trick.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Magarce and Benesch glanced at each other, and Magarce said “Who is it?”

“Arle. Is everything all right?”

“I think so,” said Magarce, “but Daucery’s out cold…”

“Oh, no!”

Magarce blinked. “What’s the big deal? I pass out sometimes. If it’s real wild, you know?”

“It’s just… may I come in? Please?”

“I’m in trouble?” said Benesch.

“Maybe Cery is. Don’t worry, it’s Arle, she’s cool. She turned me into a puddle!” boasted Magarce.

Demarle cautiously slunk into the room, a curious sight in a feline so wide and bouncy, and peered worriedly at Daucery. “She’s okay… right?”

“Far as I know,” said Magarce, “why?”

“If it doesn’t offend you- sir, can you pull out of her yet?”

“I guess so- that what you want?”

“Please.” said Demarle.

He could, with relatively little tugging. Nerre didn’t tie like Runge, and when they really melted into a puddle, they could go very limp. Daucery didn’t react, at first, and then she made a low, guttural moan. Magarce knew just how she felt- it could feel like the guy was tugging all your guts out, when the knot and cock were that big. Demarle watched, without comment, her paw on Magarce’s dainty shoulder.

The knot was still obscenely swollen when it came out, stretching Daucery’s vagina grotesquely around its bulky softness, and when the rest of the dick withdrew, there was a trickle of bright red, and Demarle’s claws dug into Magarce’s shoulder.

“Ow! Arle!” protested the little Nerre, but Arle was frozen, staring, waiting, as second after second passed- and there was no more than the trickle. Demarle relaxed, then.

“Is that what that was about?”

“Pretty much.” said Demarle.

“Sorry about that…” said Benesch. “She…”

“We know.” said Demarle, reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll have a word with her. Apart from that- did we satisfy?”

Benesch looked at Daucery. He looked at Magarce. He looked at Demarle, his ears splayed in perplexity.

“It was really weird. Was all that just for her jollies?”

“Daucery is… odd.” said Demarle calmly. “Apart from that…”

“Yeah, all right- apart from that, yeah they satisfied. I’ll say. This little kitten seriously loves getting fucked, and I never did anybody like I did that one. Yeah, even if she was weird about it, I’m satisfied.”

Magarce purred happily, and Demarle waited while the guy dressed and fished out his money, which he presented with a chastened air, and then added another hundred as a tip.

“Yeah, have a word with her… thank you… I’ll let myself out…”

He departed, and Demarle and Magarce were left alone with the comatose Daucery, sprawled over the bed with limp limbs and gaping vagina. The knot and wolf cock had left a visible impression.

“Should I go too?” asked Magarce.

“No, I think you should stay, so you can hear this.”

“She’s been bad?”

“She’s been Daucery.” said Demarle. “We didn’t warn you about her.”

Magarce kept staring at Daucery’s cunt, and Arle continued, “What?”

“Oh- just thinking.”

Demarle’s whiskers quirked. “What about?”

“If I had a little hose, I could give her a douche from two feet away, easy.”

Demarle cracked up, and the sound made Daucery stir. Even that movement was enough to gently shut her intimate parts, and Demarle continued, “Wake up! Or I let the little one play games with you!”

Daucery yawned. “Don’t wanna…”

“You gotta. Wake up, pay attention. You got Magarce in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble?” mewed Magarce. “You didn’t say that I was in trouble!”

“More like you were in the same room with trouble, okay? We’ve got to bring you up to speed.”

Daucery rolled over, yawning. “That guy had speed. Mmmmmmm.”

“You see this?” snapped Demarle. She pounced, her finger invading Daucery’s vagina, but not to stimulate. It returned tinged with blood red, and she waved it at Daucery and held it in Magarce’s face. “You see this? We can’t have this. I know what she did- maybe not exactly, but she’s always up to the same tricks- and you can’t let her do it. You hear me?”

“What should I do? Hold the guy’s butt so he can’t thrust? Fling myself in the breach so he fucks me instead?”

“You try it!” chuckled Daucery. “I’m bigger than you!”

“You’re not bigger than them! The Runge, I mean!” said Demarle. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying? You can’t stay here if it’s going to be like this!”

Daucery just yawned, and got unsteadily to her feet. She padded out the door without another word, catching the door frame to keep from toppling over, and was gone.

“No, really, what should I do?”

Demarle sighed. “She just won’t listen…”

“Well… I can not join her again. Now that I know what she was doing with the guy. She pretty much used me to work him up into a frenzy. I wouldn’t have minded sticking with him.” Magarce thought about this. “…as long as he didn’t start doing me like he did her. Do they do that a lot?”

“Some of them. Usually they have a fantasy that you’re some exotic and possibly fragile creature. Faisand’s always been able to work that. Brittery, well… she kinda scares them. I can’t really get away with it that well. Just because I’ve got a big fluffy butt they think they can pound it, but I don’t mind telling them to cool it. I like girls better, really… I think it would be very easy for you to get them to go more slowly, look at you.”

“I did. That was how we started. I wanted to say he didn’t have to do it like that, but Daucery insisted, and I ended up liking it a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could get used to it like that.”

“You’d better not get used to being paid like that.” said Demarle. “I saw what you got. Was it Daucery setting the price?”

“I said what you told me to say! But then Daucery dragged me into it, and I’d already said six hundred…”

Demarle nodded. “You have to do better. Daucery sort of just plays. We’re not playing, we’re working. I should have Faisand coach you…”

Magarce’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“You’d better be good. She won’t have forgotten that business with my gun…”

“Yeah, when can I get that back?”

“I’m not sure you should! Magarce, that was outrageous, don’t you understand?”

Magarce fell silent. Life hadn’t taught her much about being civilized- and what she had learned, she resented. From life rebelling with now-dead Nerre boys, to the brief life with Benjen, to the life with pirates and its bitter ending, the only safe thing had been to seize the moment and dominate, at all costs. She didn’t like being without a weapon. Anything could happen. It didn’t occur to her that she herself might be the anything that would happen.

“You can really have Faisand coach me?”

Demarle nodded, looking a little worried at the prospect of talking Faisand into this.

Magarce purred. Sex was a weapon. Tres had proved that.