It seemed terribly quick- the speck grew to a vast spaceship, with strange alarming markings on it like stylized teeth and snarling faces, and then it had reeled her in. Magarce sprang to her feet and paced, her tail lashing. Have Morc greet them? No, he was asleep. She had to hide Benjen, couldn’t bear if he was killed- again?

There was a clang by a hatch she hadn’t used. Had Benjen once said it was an emergency hatch? Something about pressurizing a tube. There was a whistling noise, and she pressed her ear to it, trying to work out what the noise was. There was the suggestion of voices, motion…

The hatch slammed into her head, knocking her to the floor, and the room was filled with stinking, ragged Runge that shouted to each other and knocked her down again when she sat up. “The hallway!” they shouted. “Kill anything that attacks!”

Magarce reeled, trying to make sense of the situation, but they were moving too fast, and her eyes would not focus properly on the strange new things. It was a flickering of images rudely interrupted as suddenly there were three surrounding her, and they grabbed her and began to take her back through the hatch into their ship.

“No fuckin’ loot, well she can be the loot! Should be yummy.”

“BENJEN!” shrieked Magarce, hysterical and struggling.

“The fuck’s she calling to?”

“You kill anybody named that?” asked one of the Runge to another.

“Nah. It was just her in there. There wasn’t anybody else on the ship…”

Magarce fainted.

She woke to complete unfamiliarity, and too much familiarity, at the same time. She was in a shabby room split between the opulence of its wall-hangings and the coldness of unpainted steel bulkheads behind them, and she was being held up by two wolf-like Runge who had her arms, in front of a third who regarded her from a large chair decorated with fancy cushions and knives pointing off it, radiating out like the feathers of a displaying bird.

“Gently. I’ll tell you if it’s time to break her. Don’t cut things short.”

“She’s already short.” said one of the Runge holding her.

“Might or might not mean anything. Hey, you! You a child? I gotta tell you, it won’t help, we’re just curious.”

“Might make it feel better.” said the other Runge holding her. “Past a certain point it just hurts, though. Hurts you I mean.”

“Yeah? Let’s find out.” said the seated Runge. “Hold her up for me.”

The two Runge lifted Magarce, grabbed her legs, holding her by upper arms and mid-legs. She wriggled a bit, then stopped bothering to resist as the wolves parted her legs.

“Hey- that’s interesting. You’re not worrying her with that. Different… Okay, let’s see what we got. Over here, c’mon…”

They held her out obligingly, and the leader regarded her skeptically- then, reached out, flipped her skirt up, and thrust one finger into her with a slight twisting motion and a clear understanding of the angles and entrance spots of her vagina.

His eyes widened, and Magarce felt his finger bend, exploring, stroking. “Fuck me, that’s new.”

“Tight one?” said one of the henchmen, licking his chops.

“Yeah, but you get a scream. Especially dry like that.” objected the other.

“No.” said the leader. “Not even slightly. She feels like one of ours. The fuck you been doing with that cunt, girl?”

Magarce was offended at his tone. She didn’t reply- in words. She just glared at him and tensed her legs and lower body, to teach him a lesson.

“Whoa! Got some tricks. You didn’t answer the question, though, and that’s bad. We can do things to you that will ruin you…”

“Like what?” said Magarce contemptuously.

The leader grinned, unhumorously. “We know your ways. I won’t just fuck you- I’ll have one of my boys here up your ass at the same time. Unless you behave, maybe not even then. How’d you like that?”

“Done it.” said Magarce proudly. “Uh… not with Runge, though. Um… okay, okay, I’ll answer. What was the question again?”

This stopped the leader Runge. His finger withdrew with a faint splip. “Are you out of your… you’ve DONE that? Seriously?”

“Why do you think I had to flee the planet?” retorted Magarce.

“Wow.” said the leader. “This’s out of the fuckin’ ordinary. I might keep this one for myself. You wanna get that little dress off her?”

“I thought we were all gonna do her.” said one of the henchmen.

Suddenly there was a gun in the leader’s hand. “You know I won’t ask twice.”

The guy stiffened, but didn’t let go of Magarce. “But… look, I was standin’ right here and you clearly said…”

“Eartip.”

BANG!

The two henchmen dropped Magarce like a doll they didn’t want to be seen holding, and jumped back. The one that had spoken- holding his ear.

“Yes. Sir.”

“Very good.” said the leader. “Very observant.”

“You gonna stop doing that?”

“You gonna stop needing it?”

The henchman didn’t reply, and the leader snorted. “Well then. Get her fuckin’ dress off.” But before they could move, Magarce was on her feet and advancing. The leader grunted his surprise, held her at gunpoint, but did not fire even as Magarce grabbed her dress and whisked it off…

Or, rather, as Magarce grabbed her dress, attempted to whisk it off over her head, and got it tangled around her arms. The Runge surrounding her got a fine view of her pert rump, the leader checking out the contours of her feline body and dainty vulva appreciatively as Magarce struggled to get her arms free. A petulant yowl of frustration came from the tangled depths of the dress, and her tail lashed, then bristled, her butt clenching prettily as she wrested the fabric from around her head. The dress was flung to the ground, and the petite feline continued to advance with a further lash of her tail, to an accompaniment of chuckles from the henchmen.

“Who are you?” she said, to the Runge that still had her covered with the gun. Its aim flicked lazily from target to target- eartips, ends of whiskers- eyes.

“You know that’s not going to make any difference, right?” he said, slouching further in the chair and unbuttoning his pants.

“Well, it’ll make it more convenient for me to ask. I need you to do something for me.”

“I’m going to do something TO you.” corrected the leader. “I’m gonna knot you. You come here right now and get it, or I call eyelash. Quickest way to find out if you’ll work.”

“You’re gonna… ooooh.” breathed Magarce, eyes locked on the vivid red of his cock. “And you probably need it pretty soon, right, or it’ll get stuck outside me?”

“That’s what you needed me to do? We seem to agree. C’mere.”

She did, with elegant little padding steps, tail flicking about edgily, and she began to straddle the leader wolf’s lap, his hand going up to fondle her rump and back, his other hand still holding the gun, its aim now fixed on her left eye unwaveringly.

“What I need… about that… gun.” breathed Magarce, holding herself just over the guy’s hardening erection, her tail lashing languidly and her trim hips swaying delicately, poised.

“It doesn’t go off by accident.” said the guy. “You don’t get to tell me where to point it. I won’t pull the trigger when I come, if that’s what you…”

“No, no.” purred Magarce.

“Then what?”

“I saw what you did.” said Magarce, gently grazing the end of the guy’s cock with her inflamed, pouting puss. “I’ll take all of you, even the big lump, even if it hurts, but… teach me how to shoot like that!”

“No promises. Get busy, right now… and, ah, we’ll see.”

Magarce suspected that was the best she was going to get out of him on the matter- and complied with the more immediate task of getting his best into her. The promise of another Runge dick, even if it wasn’t on the scale of Benjen’s, had her wriggling and consumed with immediate desires, and maybe it was the time with Benjen, maybe it was all the playing with objects on the ship, but Magarce didn’t have any trouble. She squirmed a little bit as he tucked into her, then pushed back firmly and made a little snarl of pleasure as his crimson bulk slid smoothly up her, and with just a slight pause for a deep, irresistible shudder and moan, Magarce kept pushing, pushing even as his cock butted up against her feline cervix, shoving herself way back onto him, for she had specific ideas of what had to happen next.

The barrel of the gun went right up to her eye, the leader playing it safe as far as which ideas she might entertain- but he didn’t know Magarce, and he was learning about the diminutive Nerre very quickly. The pretty face before him showed no sign of treachery. Instead, her ears were perked in high alertness, her eyes wide and glittering but not staring at him, or even the gun. Magarce stared at nothing, raptly, pressing back for all she was worth, because she knew from Benjen what happened, and remembered the story he’d told. That part pushed inside you, swelled up, locked you to him, and though Benjen was simply too large to do it with, Magarce had hotly fantasized about this moment ever since learning of it.

She pressed back harder, feeling a stirring- and began to pant, eyes dilating, a picture of feline lust, because this time, the swelling wasn’t happening against her butt or thighs. It was inside. It throbbed and built, and at first it didn’t hurt, and then it was definitely wedged inside her pelvis and not conceivably coming out, and still it was expanding, forcing the rest of the Runge cock deeper into her, and he grunted softly and began to throb, and still the pressure built but now she knew he was coming into her as well…

Magarce began to shriek, her body shaking, then nearly thrashing, legs scrabbling to either side of the Runge guy, kicking out behind her, tail bristling wildly. He held the gun farther back, though his arm position had to be awkward and strange, and whistled softly in amazement.

“Ya killin’ her.” said the henchman with the bleeding ear. “I’ll get the airlock ready…”

“No, I don’t think so…” said the leader. He stroked Magarce’s body, so tense with writhing and strain.

“You don’t think so?”

“You’d have to feel it. She’s fuckin’ going crazy down there… nnh! ‘S like I’m getting jerked off. Holy crap. Nnnn! Oh yeah.”

“Got some kinda training?” said the henchman, barking it so he could be heard over Magarce’s screams.

“Don’t… nnh! think so… just another kitty knot slut… ‘s like it’s her first time with it… hello!”

Magarce had emitted a withering shriek and collapsed against his chest.

“Ya killed her! You mighta shared.”

“Oh no… no, I think we’re gonna learn her limits and keep her busy doing this. You can’t feel this but trust me, she’s still going. There, see! Leg kicked a little. Here, watch…”

The leader Runge held Magarce’s body against his with one arm, and jerked his hips downward a couple times. The reaction was immediate- the petite Nerre struggled weakly, and made a hoarse little wail of erotic torment.

“Yeah, okay- you settle for that, buddy. No further demonstrations. Yeah, and if Ndem fucks her, tell her he can’t knot her- he’s kinda big. This is too good to waste. Kitty’s right at her limits. And don’t let Henke kill her. I’ll share, but you do your part to keep kitty unbroken, alright? Believe me, you’ll see why. Mmmmm.”

“You say that,” said the henchman with the bleeding eartip, “but I notice you’re still pointing the gun at her head…”

“She’s full of surprises. Long as they’re good ones we’ll get along. If not…”

The henchman nodded in satisfaction. “Ya gonna teach her how to shoot? Like she wanted?”

“Of course not.”

Several months later, things had settled into a sort of routine.

Magarce slept on the floor outside Angs’ door. Angs was the leader of the group. He’d taken a liking to her, such a strong liking that he permitted the others to fuck her only as a reward for the best behavior, and only in his presence to guard against her injury. He’d blown the head off Henke, who had spent weeks trying to get permission to fuck Magarce, and then blown his chance by humping her violently, and being caught at it by Angs, who was checking up on the situation. Since then, he demanded to watch.

The door banged Magarce’s head.

“Up! Make me tea, girl.” came a very female voice. “After that, you shall brush out my tail.”

Tres was the other reason Angs demanded to watch Magarce getting fucked- and the reason she slept on the floor outside Angs’ door. Magarce scrambled to her feet, scampered into Angs’ quarters and set about making tea, Angs hungrily watching her every move.

“Go ahead and wave your little tail for him. Might as well keep you both happy…”

Tres was an Estrai, vulpine lady of indeterminate age, a little taller than Magarce but a lot more buxom, and a very intimidating character. It wasn’t just because her athletic form combined a shapeliness to compete with any rival and muscle to kick that rival’s ass. Tres was cunning beyond anything Magarce had imagined, and was the brains of the team that Angs provided muscle to… she guided the exploits of the whole crew, through Angs’ reign of terror and reward, and she got her way.

This was made clear by the way she’d kicked Magarce out of her and Angs’ bed.

At first, Magarce shared Angs’ bed, in a dreamworld of intense fucking and lazy napping, and was well satisfied- and then she began to notice someone joining them, a stunning Estrai vixen with big tits and a lithe, muscular body. She didn’t argue with Angs, she just insinuated herself, Angs explaining that this was Tres, she was very special, very important. He seemed proud of her but slightly nervous. Tres bided her time, stayed very low-key, spoke to Angs of ship business, did not deign to notice when Magarce was a feline puddle of post-coital satiation. Magarce decided that Tres had no interest in Angs beyond working with him.

She discovered she was wrong, for she began to pick up little notes here and there.

“This is a note from the woman who will be reclaiming her lover in time”. Left on the bedside table. Angs chuckled, and admitted that Tres had shared his bed first. He reiterated that Tres was very special, very important, and suggested that Magarce could put forth extra effort to compete with her. Angs apparently found this rivalry flattering.

“You will prove to be a charming maid, by which I mean attendant.” On the bedspread in front of Magarce’s nose as she woke up. Angs found this amusing as well. Magarce began to doubt the wisdom of consulting with him on the matter…

“The floor outside our room is a suitable spot for maids to sleep.” Three times. First, on the bedspread. The second time, the note was tucked between Magarce and Angs as they slept. The third time, the note was directly underneath Magarce’s hip, again as she slept. Magarce began to fret and have trouble sleeping. Tres seemed unperturbed, and worked with Angs the same as ever, except he seemed to miss her. Magarce saw Tres casually putting some very elegant moves on Angs, canting her hips, flirting with her bushy, silky tail, leaving her top more unbuttoned. It seemed to Magarce that the game was on.

Then, she woke up with a slightly uncomfortable feeling. She’d fucked Angs with mad eager passion and gone to sleep afterwards, and now felt like he’d perhaps torn something, though it hadn’t seemed like it at the time. Magarce explored her personal regions cautiously.

“This is a slow acting nerve poison… in that world where you have not yet begun sleeping on the floor outside our room.”

The note had been folded carefully and tucked into Magarce’s trim vagina, without waking her. Had it really been a nerve poison, she would be thoroughly dead. The invasion of her person creeped Magarce out like nothing ever had, and she spent the next couple days trying to figure out if she felt sick or slow-poisoned.

“Don’t be a fool. Serve me and you will have occasional rewards of Angs and others. Or…”

Again, inserted into her pussy- this time even deeper. Magarce knew nothing of cunning anesthetics, soporifics known to the Estrai, she only knew that she was terrorized intolerably with no recourse, and inevitably, she prepared to explain to Angs that she desired for no reason to go take a nap outside the door…

…and walked in on Tres pressing herself back onto him, that fluffy tail jerking in ecstacy as the Runge cock slid bit by bit into her taut, muscled Estrai pussy. It was actually quite beautiful to watch. Tres had a lovely ass, bolder curves than Magarce could hope to have- Angs was obviously finding heaven in the sensuous vixen.

Magarce slunk quietly back out, curled up by the door, and cried herself to sleep. She hadn’t even got the luxury of pretending it had been her idea. The manipulative little Nerre was utterly, ruthlessly outmaneuvered, with death as her punishment if she didn’t submit. She had never been defeated before.

The work was most distracting, at least. Not her work as an unwilling maid- the ship’s work. She’d stumbled upon a real pirate ship, in space, and it stayed very busy.

Magarce had wondered how the ship could possibly work, with a leader who’d shoot at his subordinates. Wouldn’t they just gang up on him? It still seemed peculiar to her, but became more clear: everyone on the ship was far more interested in outward-directed pillage and slaughter than in infighting, plus they trusted Angs, and feared his mate Tres. It was enough- or at least it had been enough so far.

Magarce asked an old, gaunt Runge, in the belief that he must know the ways of the ship to have survived so long. She asked about Henke, who was dead, in hopes it would give her some clues.

“You can’t be really sorry, my dear? You wanted more of him?”

Magarce hesitated, as cutely as she could. “Weelllll… it was sort of exciting…”

“We heard your screams all over the ship. It was rather clear-cut, dear.”

“Sometimes it’s just as noisy but in a good way. Maybe not that time… but it was really okay with you guys that Angs killed him? You all knew him.”

“Knew he’d come to an end like that. After a while you can spot them. You spot trouble well before it happens. That’s all I will say.”

“You’re nice,” lied Magarce, “what’s your name?”

“I have no name.”

Magarce was dismayed. “They can prevent you even having a name? I’ll speak to Angs about it.”

“No, you misunderstand.” said the old Runge with a very sharp glance. “I have no name- for YOU. Off with you…”

That had been unsettling.

Now, Magarce waited for a boarding party to return. They’d attacked a much larger ship, that looked Estrai. She wondered if Tres had a problem with this… briefly. She also wondered if the boarding party was having problems. There had been sounds, like clangs or thumps, transmitted through even the folding metal of the airlock tunnel, and flashes of light had showed through the portholes. Magarce decided that if the pirates had lost, she would try to play innocent victim- if that even worked out here in space, which seemed unlikely. The airlock area opened onto three ship levels, central, up and down, and she liked to wait on the up level, because she got a sense of security being above whatever was coming back through the airlock. It was true even when the artifical gravity had gone wonky and intermittent. Today it was fine, and she hoped the boarding party was fine as well.

The hatch handle turned. The party was returning. All seemed okay. Angs led the way, Tres following him, then some of the others- they seemed pleased, amused, glancing at each other to share some private joke, perhaps about what had happened. Some of the stories Magarce had heard were amazing, though you had to have a pretty strong stomach to laugh at tales of a guy shooting half his head off by mistake, and then trying to curse through only half a mouth…

Angs hugged her, shifted behind her, and Tres was coming up the stairwell too. “Oh good, there you are. Give me a hand up.” she said curtly, extending her elegant Estrai arm.

Magarce took her hand, and it was strangely limp- and then, Tres fell away, with a scream of “Gentlyyyy! aiiiieeeee!” and Magarce was holding a severed Estrai arm, gory and bloody at the shoulder while Tres screamed in agony and fell to the floor.

Magarce bristled in shock, especially her tail, and rushed forward with some notion of putting the arm back on before Tres bled to death- and then the room exploded in laughter, and she stood there, holding an Estrai woman’s severed arm as the pirates laughed at her until they could hardly breathe.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe how well that worked! She bought it completely!” cried Tres.

“Hah. Everybody give our Magarce a hand!” yelled Angs, and the pirates clapped as they laughed, and Magarce stood primly, holding the vulpine arm, her tail foofed out dreadfully, its tip flicking back and forth in vexation. She tried to speak, but it was only a croak. She cleared her throat, shook her head to clear it, and said, “Are you finished? How’d it go? For you I mean, not for whoever this is. Was.”

Angs hugged her again. “Fuckin’ good sport, too! It was good. We took no casualties. Tres was just fuckin’ with you, one of the ladies in there had just the same fur tone as her, and she thought it’d be funny. She loves ya really…”

“Of course.” said Magarce carefully. “Did I earn a visit to your bed? For all that?”

Angs hugged her again, and said “Sure!” while, on the floor, Tres’s eyes flashed with sudden realization that she’d been outfoxed, if only for a moment. A second later, she too said “Sure.”

“Oooh!” said Magarce, and hugged Angs back this time, while Tres got to her feet and came over, taking the arm from Magarce. “Yeah- you got it. Well played, good sport. Isn’t it a nice arm? It matches mine perfectly.” She fondled the arm, then seductively licked its fingers, a wicked twinkle in her eye as she saw Magarce flinch slightly.

“Did you bite it off yourself?” asked Magarce, pushing her luck.

“Just a very strong handshake, dear…” said Tres. “You should keep it. Imagine all the things you could do with an arm like mine, but for your very own. We’ll get you a little leash, you can keep it as a pet.”

“Right. I’ll sleep with it. It can double as a midnight snack.”

Tres gave a dangerous grin. “Didn’t know you were so hot to eat me, little one.”

“Who knows?” said Magarce. “Maybe it’ll finger me on lonely nights.”

Tres swished by her, heading for the captain’s quarters, and dropped the severed arm at Magarce’s feet, hissing a final benediction very quietly so only Magarce could hear. It was, “Maybe it’ll fist you, in your sleep.” And on she went, content that she’d made the little Nerre flinch one last time, leaving her with Angs and the other pirates.

“Ahh! Bloody work always makes me horny.” said Angs. “I think it’s seeing all that death and coming out of it with your life. We didn’t lose one guy! Hey, small-stuff, I’m gonna take you right here and now, get up on th… hey, what’s the matter?”

“Nothin’…” said Magarce, trying to blink the haunted look out of her eyes. You didn’t really win against Tres. She wondered how badly she’d fucked up- or, perhaps, earned respect. She’d certainly earned a fuck from the captain, and it was just a question of whether she’d paid for it- or had yet to pay for it.

“Up you get!” said Angs, and hoisted her onto the end of the stair-railing, unbuckling his pants, his tongue lolling as he flipped up her skirt. Magarce didn’t wear anything under it. That had good and bad points. It was good because it was naughty and daring and wicked, and she still needed to act out on her feelings of that nature where possible. It was bad because she was on a ship of pirates, and more than once she’d found herself slammed against a wall, a lupine cock shoving into anywhere it could. Magarce had learned to tilt her hips and present right away after one guy’d gone up her ass. She hadn’t told on him, because Henke had already been killed over fucking her wrongly, and she was getting unfriendly looks. She had figured out very quickly that just pleasing the captain wasn’t going to protect her.

Now, she felt Angs move eagerly up against her, and protested. “But… honey the arm thing, it, I need to warm up!” She felt unaroused, uptight, off balance, and she knew that with visions of dead Estrai limbs dancing in her head, her pussy wasn’t going to leap into action and be ready for him right away.

Angs laughed at her. “Two things, little one. First- good, I’ve never taken you that way. You’re so fuckin’ eager, I only see you horny. Second…”

“Second? ngggYAAAAHH!”

The pirate captain gave one mighty shove with his hips, and his wolf-cock transfixed her, prying into her body and taking her to the hilt. It was drenched in pre-come drool, and rather than the scraping of dry flesh against private flesh, it was the lubricated wedging of a hard member into a body totally unready to receive it.

“I’m so fuckin’ horny so you don’t have to!”

Magarce reeled, and then felt his arms go around her, lifting her off the railing, and all her moderate weight came down on his cock, which seemed to go deeper than usual- deeper than she could really manage. It was that erotic jolt of getting hilted, the jolt of her cervix hit with cock-head, but she had to be very excited for it to really work and now it wasn’t carrying its usual charge, it didn’t hurt good properly.

“Oh yeah!” cried Angs, and hopped up and down a bit, tossing Magarce about and ramming deeply into her. “That’s what I thought you were gonna be like the first time!”

Magarce shrieked, her eyes squeezed shut, and something inside her snapped- this was NOT her, this didn’t happen to her this way. She was bold and fierce and lusty and wicked, and she was not going to cry- this guy was HER guy, and she would take him away from Tres, and he’d be sorry and she’d wrap him around her little paw and just for right now, she was NOT going to be out-pirated by these bloodthirsty assholes. She was going to half kill him right back, and she was going to come first and goddamn well sprain him. It was love and war and she wasn’t going to lose.

Magarce clung to Angs with her legs, howled a feline cry of outrage and embrace, clenched down on his cock for all she was worth, and clawed fiercely at his back- and as she did, she felt her psyche and body shift gears from victim to predator, and a surge of arousal tried to overtake the distress that filled her.

“Ohshit!” snarled Angs. He stood it for a few seconds. One of the other pirates chuckled uneasily, for he’d seen that Magarce had got through Angs’ jacket and there was blood on her paw. “Ya… want some help with that?”

“Like… HELL… I do…” snarled Angs, and he turned, staggering forward a few steps and slamming into the wall, pinning Magarce to it. Having done this, his back began to hunch, and Magarce’s feet curled and then splayed out in an anguished show of claws and stiffened ligaments, for Angs was fucking her like he meant to break her, like he meant to stay on top of the pain-pleasure equation and force her to be overwhelmed.

Magarce’s hands clawed at his back even harder. Her feet clawed at the air with tortured stiffness, her tail went to the side and bristled dreadfully as the wolf hips ruthlessly pumped. A scream cut the air, but it wasn’t a scream of suffering, it was like the cry of some bird of prey, filled with mad lust and rage. It sounded again, and then it was muffled and Angs’ body jerked. Magarce had sunk her teeth into his shoulder right through his jacket.

He heaved a huge breath, and the lupine hips surged again, as Angs tried to regain the upper hand, tried to hurt this insane feline through sheer fucking, prove to her that she could not make him back off through biting and clawing- and then the other pirates saw something surprising, to the extent that they could see anything. Magarce’s claws dug in even more fiercely, her muffled voice rose to a squall that got blotted out as if she was spastically biting, and her feet twitched and juddered as if struck by a seizure.

“the… FUCK! hhh! hh! ghh!”

Angs’ whole body jerked violently as he exploded into orgasm, pumping wolf come into the feline threshing machine that was shredding and devouring him, and he staggered back, away from the wall, barely maintaining his balance. Free of being pinned, Magarce’s face was a bestial snarl as she sank her teeth into his shoulder, and then as the throbbing got to her, she tilted her head back, a nightmarish vision of dainty feline cuteness with red all over her mouth, let out a final shriek and went limp. Angs didn’t hold her, and the petite Nerre fell back away from him but was tied to his knot, and described a little arc that ended as her head struck the floor, further knocking her out.

Angs panted, eyes rolling, grabbing the railing to stay upright. Magarce dangled from his cock, arms splayed like a dropped toy, her legs hanging loosely and tail limp. Her skirt, that had begun things covering her dainty pussy and pert rump, now draped almost over her head. Angs remained standing, the weight of Magarce hanging off his cock.

Finally, one of the other pirates dared speak. “…didja win?”

“Hhh… fucked if I know… hhh…”

“She’s like us, huh?”

“Yah.” said Angs. “Fuck if she isn’t.”

The silence was broken by the thud of Magarce’s body hitting the deck, as feline vaginas didn’t tie the same way Runge ones did, and her weight had pulled his knot out of her body.

The respectful silence was resumed as Angs picked her up gently in his arms and carried her off to his quarters, there to sleep in his bed.