"Madeleine Clairmont?" Sophie's brow furrowed. "I didn't realize the guild handled engagement ceremonies."
"We don't," Lina said. "Not directly. But when the families involved have significant commercial interests, the guild ensures that the contractual framework surrounding the union is... properly structured."
"From Clairmont," Alphonse repeated. His voice was carefully neutral. "What happened with the engagement?"
Lina's eyes shifted to him. The veil hid whatever expression accompanied her next words, but the tone carried a note of gossip.
"The bride apparently requested the ceremony be expedited. Quite suddenly, from what I understand. She had been delaying for months. Excuses, postponements, the usual tactics of a reluctant fiancée. Then, out of nowhere, she reversed course entirely. Sent word to both families that she wanted the preparations expedited."
Sophie glanced at Alphonse. "That's odd. Why the sudden change?"
"The official explanation," Lina continued, "is that the Clairmont family reached a new trade agreement with the Hohenberg-Wittenstein branch. Something to do with textile imports. The marriage secures the partnership. Accelerating the timeline signals commitment from both sides."
Through the brand, Alphonse felt Sophie's curiosity brush against his consciousness. She didn't know. She had no idea what had happened on that tower in Montefalco.
His thoughts, however, were anything but calm.
Madeleine expedited the engagement.
After what happened on that tower.
She went home and asked to marry Lucius faster.
Alphonse wanted to laugh. To rejoice over his cousin suffering.
He kept his face composed. Let the mask of mild curiosity hold.
"Interesting," he said. "I didn't realize the Clairmonts were so eager for the match."
"Eager might be the wrong word," Lina said. "Motivated is closer. There are rumors that the Clairmont family recently discovered two new iron deposits on their territory. Significant ones. The kind that could supply a regional armory for decades."
Sophie straightened. "Iron mines? In Clairmont territory?"
"Unconfirmed," Lina said, raising one hand. "But the guild's analysts believe the reports are credible. The geological surveys are consistent with the region's mineral profile, and the Clairmonts have been quietly purchasing mining equipment from Dwarven suppliers for the past three months."
"So the accelerated wedding isn't about textiles at all," Alphonse said. He leaned back against the padded bench, crossing one ankle over his knee. "The Clairmonts are sitting on iron. Iron means weapons. Weapons mean military contracts."
Lina's eyes brightened above the veil. The look of someone who'd just confirmed an assessment.
"That would be one interpretation," she said carefully.
"They're preparing for the war," Alphonse said, watching her reaction. "The conflict in the south. Iron deposits become exponentially more valuable when armies need equipping. The Clairmonts are positioning themselves as suppliers, and the marriage gives them access to Lord Heinrich's military connections. Is that how we should read it?"
Lina held his gaze for three full seconds.
"Perhaps," she said. A smile crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"When will the wedding take place?" Sophie asked.
"Not soon enough. The groom — young lord Lucius von Hohenberg-Wittenstein — is currently enrolled at the Imperial Academy. The ceremony is scheduled for his return. Nine months from now."
Nine months.
Alphonse filed the number away.
Interesting.
But Madeleine... you and I will have a conversation long before those nine months are up.
He pushed the thought aside. There was nothing to be done about it now.
"The guild must be keen to establish a relationship with the Clairmonts before the wedding locks in their trade partnerships," Alphonse observed. "Is that why you were in the region? Positioning for a contract bid?"
Lina tilted her head. "You're perceptive, young lord."
"I pay attention."
"Clearly." She adjusted the fabric of her veil. "Yes. The guild hoped to broker an introduction. A preliminary meeting. If the iron deposits are real, the extraction contracts alone could be worth tens of thousands of gold pieces over the next decade. The guild's standard commission on resource extraction agreements is eight percent."
Sophie let out a low whistle. "Eight percent of tens of thousands..."
"Adds up," Lina confirmed.
The conversation continued as the afternoon light shifted from gold to amber.
Sophie asked about trade routes. Lina answered with the practiced ease of someone who'd memorized every major commercial corridor on the continent. Alphonse listened, occasionally interjecting with questions that probed deeper than surface-level geography.
Through it all, he noticed something.
Only one of the two women spoke.
The older woman. The one who'd emerged from the carriage alongside Lina after the ambush, sat in the far corner of the bench. She hadn't said a word. Not during the introductions. Not during the journey. Not during any of the conversation that had filled the past two hours.
She sat with perfect posture, her hands folded in her lap, her dark eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the carriage window. Her robes were similar to Lina's but simpler. No embroidery. No silk trim.
Every time Sophie addressed a question toward both women, the silent one's eyes would flick to Lina.
"Lina," Alphonse said, during a lull between topics. "I don't believe I caught your companion's name."
The change was subtle but immediate. Lina's posture shifted.
"She's not my companion," Lina said. The words were delivered with the flat precision of a correction. "She's my property."
Sophie blinked. "Your... what?"
Lina reached across the gap between the benches. Her fingers found the edge of the silent woman's veil and pulled it down.
The fabric fell away from her face.
Sophie gasped.
The woman's features were striking. High cheekbones, a narrow nose, full lips pressed into a neutral line. Her skin was a shade lighter than Lina's.
But that wasn't what made Sophie gasp.
Her ears.
They rose from the sides of her head in long, tapered arcs that extended six inches above the crown of her skull. Covered in fine, velvety fur the color of dark chocolate, they terminated in rounded tips that twitched at the sudden exposure to the carriage's ambient noise.
Rabbit ears.
"She's a beastling," Lina said.
The woman — the slave — bowed her head. A deep, practiced inclination that brought her chin nearly to her chest. Her rabbit ears flattened against her skull. She said nothing.
"Her name is Petra."
Sophie stared.
"I've read about beastlings," she said slowly. "In Master Gereon's bestiary texts. But I've never seen one in person. They're rare this far west, aren't they?"
"Very rare," Lina confirmed. "Most beastling populations are concentrated in the eastern territories and the kingdoms across the sea. In the empire, you'll find them almost exclusively in the capital and the major port cities."
"And she's... a slave?"
"Legally, yes. The empire's classification system recognizes beastlings as a distinct category. Not citizens. Not prisoners. Property. The term in the imperial code is servile chattel."
Sophie's expression tightened. "That seems..."
"Uncomfortable?" Lina supplied. "It is. Especially for those raised in the western baronies, where beastling contact is minimal." She folded her hands. "In the capital, the dynamic is different. Nearly every noble house, every guild office, every merchant of significance maintains at least one beastling servant. It's a status marker. If you arrive at a negotiation without one, the assumption is that you can't afford one. If you can't afford a beastling, you shouldn't be at the table."
"Even with the war?" Alphonse asked.
Lina's gaze sharpened. "Especially with the war. The beastling kingdoms raided the empire's eastern settlements for decades. Took thousands of human captives. Worked them in mines. Bred them in camps." Her voice carried no emotion. Just facts. "The empire responded in kind. The slave trade in beastlings is partly economic, partly cultural, and partly retaliatory. Many in the capital view it as justice."
Sophie looked at Petra. The beastling hadn't moved. Her ears remained flat. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
"Does she... can she speak?" Sophie asked quietly.
"She can," Lina said. "She chooses not to. Most beastling slaves learn quickly that silence attracts less attention."
[Mind Connection]
The spell left Alphonse as two thin, simultaneous threads. One found Lina. The other found Petra.
[ Mind Connection established ]
Target: Lina (Merchant Guild Representative)
Status: Active
Mana drain: 2/sec
[ Mind Connection established ]
Target: Petra (Beastling Slave)
Status: Active
Mana drain: 2/sec
Lina's surface thoughts were controlled.
'The Hohenberg boy is sharp. Sharper than I expected for a minor barony's heir. The questions he asks aren't the questions of someone making conversation. He's extracting information.'
'Good. That makes him useful.'
'The sister is softer. Emotional. She'll feel sympathy for the beastling. That's predictable.'
Beneath the professional layer, something else. A current of warmth that Lina kept carefully submerged. Not toward Alphonse or Sophie. Toward Petra.
Possession.
The thought-taste was unmistakable. The specific, proprietary satisfaction of looking at something you owned.
He pushed deeper.
Images surfaced. Recent memories, loosely organized.
Petra on her knees. Her rabbit ears pinned flat against her skull. Her mouth open.
Petra bent over a desk. The robes bunched around her waist. Lina's hand between her legs.
Petra crying. While Lina watched with an expression that combined tenderness and absolute power in equal measure.
She likes women, Alphonse confirmed. But not just any women. She has a specific fixation. Beastlings. The taboo of owning a thinking being and using it.
She likes to dominate. To humiliate. To reduce.
Interesting.
He shifted his attention to Petra.
The beastling's mind was different.
Where Lina's thoughts were organized, layered, controlled — the mind of a trained professional — Petra's consciousness was a storm.
Emotions roiled beneath the blank exterior. Fear. Anger. Shame. Loneliness. A desperate, clawing hunger for something she couldn't name.
'Don't look at them. Don't let them see.'
'The boy is staring. Why is the boy staring? Does he know? Can humans smell it? The older ones could always smell when I—'
The thought cut itself off with practiced violence.
'Keep your face still. Ears down. Eyes on the floor. You're furniture. Furniture doesn't have feelings.'
Beneath the self-suppression, a layer of raw, unprocessed sensation.
The memory of Lina's hands. The things those hands did in the dark, behind the carriage curtains, after the lamps were dimmed. The humiliation that burned like acid and aroused like fire.
'I hate it.'
'I need it.'
'I hate that I need it.'
"What's it like?" Sophie asked Lina, her voice carrying the particular weight of genuine curiosity wrestling with moral discomfort. "Having a... owning someone, I mean."
Lina considered the question.
"Complicated," she said. "The guild trained me to view it as a business arrangement. The beastling provides service. The owner provides shelter, food, protection. A transaction."
She paused. Her eyes moved to Petra.
"In practice," Lina continued, "it's more than that. You become responsible for a life. Every decision you make affects them directly. It requires... discipline."
'Discipline,' Alphonse thought, tasting the word through the connection and feeling Lina's private translation: control.
"Will we need one?" Sophie asked, turning to Alphonse. "At the Academy? If it's expected in the capital..."
"Not at the Academy," Lina answered before Alphonse could respond. "The Academy operates under imperial military jurisdiction. Beastling ownership isn't required or expected for students. But outside the Academy grounds, in the city itself, the social pressure is real. Especially if you intend to conduct business or build political relationships."
"Something to consider," Alphonse said mildly.
The convoy stopped as the sun touched the western hills.
The campsite was a natural clearing, one of the designated rest areas maintained by the imperial road commission. Stone fire rings, a freshwater well, and a cleared perimeter.
The Hohenberg soldiers set up camp. Tents raised, horses tethered, a perimeter watch established.
Dinner was field rations supplemented by the contents of Lina's well-stocked larder. Smoked fish, dried fruits, hard cheese, flatbread baked in the coals.
They ate around the central fire. The soldiers kept to their own circle, twenty paces away.
Lina ate with her veil lowered. Her face, fully revealed for the first time, was angular and sharp. A narrow chin, high cheekbones, a mouth that curved naturally into something between amusement and assessment.
Petra sat behind Lina. On the ground. She ate what was handed to her. Her rabbit ears rotated constantly, tracking sounds from the perimeter.
Sophie watched this with an expression that she tried and failed to keep neutral.
"Does she always eat on the ground?" Sophie asked quietly, leaning toward Alphonse.
"Apparently."
"It feels wrong."
"Noted."
The fire burned low. The soldiers rotated watch shifts. Sophie's yawns grew more frequent.
"I'm going to sleep," Sophie announced, rising from the log she'd been using as a seat. She stretched, arms above her head, her traveling dress pulling tight across her frame. "Goodnight, everyone."
"Goodnight, Sophie," Lina said.
Sophie disappeared into the tent the soldiers had prepared for her and Alphonse. The flap closed behind her.
The clearing fell quiet.
Lina poured herself a cup of tea from the kettle balanced on the fire stones. She held it in both hands, inhaling the steam.
"Your sister is sweet," she said.
"She is."
"And perceptive. She noticed Petra before I expected her to."
Alphonse studied Lina across the fire. The flames painted her face in shifting gold.
"You mentioned the capital's expectations," he said. "The beastling as a status symbol. A social requirement."
"I did."
"You left something out."
Lina's cup paused halfway to her lips. Her dark eyes found his over the rim.
"Oh?"
"You didn't mention what you actually use Petra for."
The cup lowered.
Through the [Mind Connection], Alphonse felt the spike. A jolt of adrenaline that shot through Lina's system like ice water.
'How does he — there's no way he could —'
'My face didn't change. I've practiced. I'm certain my face didn't change.'
'Is he guessing? Fishing? He's young, but he reads people like a—'
"I use her for guild work," Lina said. Her voice was level. "Administrative tasks. Organization. Record-keeping."
"At night?"
Silence.
The fire crackled. A log shifted, sending a spray of sparks into the darkness.
"Young lord," Lina said carefully, "I'm not sure what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything." Alphonse held her gaze. "I'm observing. You touch her differently than a master touches a servant. When you pulled her veil down in the carriage, your fingers lingered on her jaw for half a second longer than necessary. When you pass her food, your hand brushes hers. Not accidentally."
'Shit.'
The word blazed through Lina's consciousness.
'He saw. He actually saw. Those tiny — I thought I was being careful — how did a boy from a western barony catch—'
"Lina." Alphonse's voice dropped. Low enough that the soldiers' circle couldn't hear. "I'm not judging you. I don't care what you do with your property. That's your business."
He let the words settle.
"But we're going to be traveling together for the next two days. I'm curious."
[Mind Influence]
He already knows. There's no point hiding it. He's not disgusted. He's interested.
The suggestion landed clean.
Her jaw tightened. She set the tea cup down on the ground beside her.
"Curious about what, exactly?"
"Show me."
Two words. Delivered without inflection.
Lina stared at him.
'Show him? Show a stranger? A client? A noble's heir who could use this against me?'
'But he already knows. And if he knows and hasn't reacted with disgust, hasn't threatened to report me to the guild's ethics board, hasn't used it as leverage...'
'What does he want?'
[Mind Influence]
You want to show him. The secret has been burning inside you for years. Every night with Petra, alone, hidden, no one to witness what you are. No one to see the power you hold. It's lonely, isn't it? Having something this intense and sharing it with no one.
The suggestion didn't push. It opened. Like a hand reaching into a dark room and pulling the curtains aside.
Lina's breath changed. The professional composure cracking, and beneath it, the thing she kept locked away.
The hunger.
"The carriage," Lina said. "Not here."
She stood. Smoothed her robes. Turned to Petra.
"Come," she said.
The beastling rose from the ground without a word.
The merchant carriage was dark inside. The mana lamps had been dimmed to their lowest setting.
Lina entered first. Petra followed. Alphonse last, pulling the heavy door shut behind him and engaging the latch.
He settled onto one of the padded benches. Crossed his arms.
"Sophie," he called through the brand.
He felt her stir in the tent.
Come to the merchant carriage. Quietly. Don't let the soldiers see you.
Through the bond, he felt her wake fully. The question formed in her mind — why? — but the brand's pull was stronger than curiosity.
Two minutes later, the carriage door opened. Sophie slipped inside. Her traveling dress was rumpled, her golden braid half-undone. She looked around the dim interior, saw Alphonse on one bench, Lina standing in the center, Petra kneeling on the floor.
"Al? What's going on?"
"Sit down," he said. "Watch."
Sophie sat beside him. Her eyes moved between the three figures, trying to read the scene.
Lina stood over Petra.
"Undress her," Alphonse said.
Lina's hands found the ties of Petra's robes. She worked them with practiced fingers, loosening the fabric at the shoulders, the waist, letting gravity do the rest.
The robes fell.
Petra's body emerged from the linen.
She was lean. Not thin, lean. The tight, efficient musculature of a body built for running, for speed, for survival. Her shoulders were narrow, her waist impossibly small, flaring into hips that curved outward.
Her breasts were small. Barely more than gentle swells on her chest, capped with dark nipples. Her stomach was flat, the muscles visible beneath the smooth tan skin.
But it was below the waist that the beastling anatomy diverged most dramatically from human.
Her thighs were thicker than her upper body suggested. Dense with muscle, the quadriceps defined even at rest. Between them, where a human woman's pubic hair would grow, a patch of fine, velvety fur the same dark chocolate color as her ears covered her mound. It was soft, downy, and denser than human hair.
Her ass was a revelation. Round, firm, and high, each cheek sculpted.
A tail. Small, round, covered in white fluff, sat at the base of her spine. It twitched once, then pressed flat against her body.
Petra knelt naked on the carriage floor. Her hands rested on her thighs, palms up. The posture of total submission.
Through the connection, her thoughts screamed.
'Not here. Not in front of strangers. Please, Mistress. Not in front of them.'
Her face showed nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Sophie's hand found Alphonse's arm and gripped it.
Lina circled the kneeling beastling. Her robes whispered against the carriage floor. One hand reached down and gripped Petra's left ear at the base. Not gently. She pulled upward, forcing the ear erect, and Petra's head tilted with it.
"Stand," Lina ordered.
Petra rose on legs that trembled almost imperceptibly.
"Turn around."
The beastling turned. Her back to the benches. Her rabbit tail twitching against the cleft of her ass.
Lina's hand came down on her left cheek.
The slap cracked through the confined space. Petra lurched forward. The flesh rippled. A red handprint bloomed against the tan skin.
No sound from Petra. Not a whimper. Not a gasp.
"Again," Alphonse said.
[Mind Influence — Lina]
Show him everything. Every game you play in the dark. Every humiliation you've perfected. Let them see what you are.
Lina's composure crumbled. The hunger she'd been restraining all evening surged to the surface, and her eyes went dark with it.
She slapped Petra's other cheek. Harder. The beastling's body lurched again, her small breasts swaying with the force.
"On your hands and knees," Lina commanded.
Petra dropped. Her palms hit the floor, her back arching, her ass rising.
Lina knelt behind her. Both hands found Petra's ass and spread the cheeks apart.
The beastling's pussy was visible. Nestled in the dark fur, her lips were delicate, a shade darker than her skin, pressed tightly together. Above them, her asshole — a small, darker pucker, clenched tight.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Lina murmured, her thumbs tracing the edges of Petra's spread sex. "Beastling anatomy is remarkably similar to human in most respects. But there are differences."
Her right hand slid between Petra's thighs. Two fingers found the beastling's slit and stroked its length. Petra's body shuddered.
"They're more sensitive," Lina continued. Her voice had taken on the quality of a lecturer delivering a presentation. "Nerve density in the genital region is approximately three times that of a human female. Which means..."
She pressed her thumb against Petra's clit.
Petra's composure shattered.
A sound escaped her. Her rabbit ears shot upright, quivering, and her back arched so violently that her elbows buckled.
"...they feel everything more intensely," Lina finished.
Sophie's grip on Alphonse's arm tightened. Through the brand, he felt her reaction.
Fascination. A dark, guilty, breathless fascination that she couldn't look away from.
Lina's fingers pushed inside. Two of them, sliding into Petra's cunt with an ease.
"Mistress..." The word tore from Petra's throat. "Please... not in front of..."
"Quiet."
Lina's free hand gripped Petra's left ear and bent it backward. The beastling whimpered. Her hips pushed back against Lina's fingers, betraying her.
[Mind Influence — Petra]
You want this. The humiliation of being displayed. The shame of being used in front of strangers. It feeds something inside you that you've never been able to name.
The suggestion hit the beastling's amplified nervous system like a spark in dry tinder. Her pussy clenched around Lina's fingers. A gush of wetness dripped down her inner thighs, darkening the fur on her mound.
Lina noticed. A smile curved her lips.
"See?" she said, looking over her shoulder at Alphonse and Sophie. "She pretends to resist. But her body can't lie."
Lina withdrew her fingers. They glistened. She held them up, examining the slick coating in the lamplight, then brought them to her mouth.
She licked them clean.
"On your back," Lina ordered.
Petra rolled over. Her small breasts rose and fell with rapid breathing. Her legs were pressed together, knees drawn up, a last instinct of modesty.
Lina forced them apart.
She lowered her face between Petra's thighs.
The first stroke of her tongue drew a cry from the beastling that resonated through the carriage walls. Petra's hands flew to Lina's head, fingers tangling in the guild representative's dark hair, and then pulling away as if burned, the slave correcting herself.
"You can hold my hair," Lina said against the wet fur. "I'm feeling generous tonight."
Petra's hands returned. Trembling. Her fingers wove into Lina's hair and held, and the sound she made when Lina's tongue found her clit again was not human.
[Mind Influence — Lina]
More. Harder. Make her scream. Make her fall apart completely.
Lina obeyed the suggestion as if it were her own desire. She buried her face deeper.
Petra's hips bucked off the carriage floor. Her thighs clamped around Lina's head. Her whole body convulsed as the orgasm ripped through her.
The scream was muffled by Lina's hand clamping over her mouth.
"Shhh," Lina whispered against the beastling's soaked sex. "The soldiers will hear."
Through the connection, Alphonse monitored both minds.
Lina was high. Drunk on power, on the performance, on the intoxicating knowledge that she was being watched while she dismantled another being's composure.
Petra was drowning. The orgasm had obliterated her defenses. Every thought was fractured, every emotion raw and exposed.
'I hate her.'
'I love her.'
'I need this.'
'I need to die.'
Lina sat up. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish.
She looked at Alphonse.
"You're not just watching," she said. "You could have turned away at any point. You didn't."
"No," he agreed.
"And your sister." Lina's gaze moved to Sophie. "She's still here too."
Sophie's face was flushed from hairline to collar. Her hands were balled into fists on her thighs.
Lina stood. She unfastened the belt of her own robe. The fabric parted, revealing her body beneath.
She was lean. Almost boyish in frame, with narrow hips and small breasts. Her skin was smooth bronze, unmarked. Between her thighs, a trimmed strip of dark hair.
She stepped over Petra's prone body and straddled the beastling's face.
"Clean me," she ordered, lowering herself.
Petra's tongue extended. Found Lina's slit. Began to work.
"Mmm..." Lina's eyes fluttered shut. Her hips rolled, grinding her sex against the beastling's mouth. "Good girl."
While Petra licked, Lina's hands found the beastling's ears. She gripped both of them — one in each hand — and used them like handles, pulling Petra's face harder against her cunt.
Petra gagged. Her nose pressed flat against Lina's pubic bone. The wet, desperate sounds of the beastling trying to breathe while servicing her mistress filled the carriage.
[Mind Influence — Lina]
Tell him you've been thinking. An idea that's been forming since you saw how he looked at Petra.
Lina's rhythm didn't stop. Her hips continued their slow grind against Petra's mouth. But her eyes opened. Found Alphonse.
"I had a thought," she said between measured breaths. "About Petra."
"Tell me."
"Beastling offspring." Lina's voice was husky, thick with pleasure, but the merchant in her hadn't vanished entirely. "They're extraordinarily valuable. A healthy beastling child, sells for fifty gold pieces minimum on the open market. More if the traits are desirable."
She rolled her hips. Petra whimpered beneath her.
"A full litter could be worth hundreds of gold."
Alphonse's expression didn't change. "You're suggesting I breed her."
"I'm suggesting a business arrangement." Lina's smile was sharp above her flushed cheeks. "You provide the stud service. I provide the broodmare. Whatever she produces, we split evenly. Half the litter to you. Half to me."
Through the connection, Alphonse read the layers beneath the proposition.
The surface was commercial. Beastling offspring were valuable, and Lina's merchant instincts never fully disengaged.
But beneath that, a deeper motivation. Lina wanted to watch. Wanted to see the creature she owned — the body she dominated, the mind she controlled — mounted by a man. Bred like livestock. The ultimate expression of the power dynamic she craved.
Beneath even that, buried so deep Lina herself might not have recognized it, jealousy. The need to prove that Petra's body belonged to her, even when another's cock was inside it. That every thrust, every moan, every drop of seed was happening because Lina had allowed it.
Alphonse looked down at Petra.
The beastling lay beneath Lina, her face soaked with her mistress's arousal, her rabbit ears trembling, her dark eyes staring upward at the carriage ceiling.
Through the connection, her emotions were a hurricane.
'Breed me? They want to — like an animal — like livestock — I'm not—'
'But I am. That's what the collar means. That's what the brand on my shoulder means.'
'No. No, that's what they MADE me for. I wasn't born for this. I had a name. A home. Before the raiders. Before the markets. Before Mistress—'
The thought fractured. Petra's mind couldn't hold itself together.
'If she orders it, I'll submit. I always submit.'
'I hate it.'
'I need it.'
Alphonse made his decision.
"Deal," he said.
He stood. The carriage was small. Two steps brought him to where Petra lay.
Lina rose from the beastling's face, sliding off to the side, settling on the bench opposite Sophie. She pulled her robe closed but didn't tie it, her hand trailing between her own thighs as she settled in to watch.
Petra lay on the carriage floor. Her small breasts heaved. Her fur-covered sex glistened with her own arousal and the residual wetness from Lina's body.
Her rabbit ears were flat. Her eyes were closed.
"Look at me," Alphonse said.
Her eyes opened.
Dark brown, almost black, swimming with tears she refused to let fall.
He knelt between her legs. His hands found her knees and pushed them apart.
The dark fur on her mound was soaked. Her clit was engorged, protruding from its hood.
Alphonse pulled his shirt over his head. Unlaced his trousers.
His cock sprang free. The shaft thick and veined, the head flushed dark.
Petra's eyes dropped to it.
Her ears shot upright.
'That's — no — that's too — he can't fit — Mistress never used anything that—'
"Mistress," Petra whispered. The first word she'd spoken since the session began. Her voice was small, cracked, directed at Lina. "Mistress, please. It's too big. I can't—"
"You can," Lina said from the bench. Her fingers worked slowly between her own thighs, her robe parted. "And you will."
Alphonse gripped the base of his cock. Guided the head to Petra's entrance. The swollen tip pressed against her slick folds, notching between her outer lips.
He pushed.
The head breached her.
"AH—!" Petra's composure shattered.
Her cunt clamped around his cock.
Alphonse didn't stop.
He sank deeper. Inch by relentless inch. Petra's body fought him at every stage, her cunt spasming in waves of resistance.
"Oh — oh — oh gods — it's — I can't —" Petra's words dissolved into a stream of breathless, broken sounds.
He bottomed out.
The impact drew a wail from Petra that her hand couldn't muffle. Her eyes rolled back. Her thighs clamped around his hips with the powerful, involuntary grip of muscles built for a beastling's explosive speed.
"Feel that?" Lina whispered from the bench, her own breathing ragged, her fingers working faster between her parted thighs. "Feel him inside you, pet? That's a man's cock. Not my fingers. Not my toys. A real, flesh-and-blood cock, filling your worthless little cunt."
"Mistress — Mistress, please — I can't — it's too — NNHH—"
Alphonse pulled back. The drag of his cock against her hypersensitive walls made Petra convulse.
He slammed forward.
"AAHH!"
He set a rhythm. Not fast. Deep. Full withdrawals followed by grinding, bottom-out thrusts.
"Gods above — oh — OH — please — please — I'll do anything — ANYTHING—"
Her rabbit ears whipped back and forth with each thrust. Her small tail, pressed against the carriage floor, twitched in a frantic rhythm. Her small breasts jounced with each impact, the dark nipples stiff and trembling.
Sophie watched from the bench. Her knees were pressed together. Her hands gripped the edge of the seat. Through the brand, Alphonse felt her arousal building.
Lina had abandoned all pretense. Her robe was open. Both hands worked between her legs, one rubbing her clit, the other pushing two fingers inside herself while she watched her property being bred.
"Harder," Lina breathed. "Fuck her harder. Make her feel it for days."
Alphonse complied.
He gripped Petra's hips and hauled her onto his cock. The beastling's lower body left the floor, her weight supported entirely by his grip and the impalement of his shaft inside her.
"Cum," Lina ordered her slave. "Cum on his cock, pet. Show him what a grateful little animal you are."
Petra screamed. Her cunt clamped down on Alphonse's cock with a crushing, rhythmic pressure. Her entire body locked. Every muscle from her curling toes to her rigid ears contracted simultaneously.
She squirted.
A spray of clear fluid burst from around his shaft, splattering his stomach, his thighs, the carriage floor. Then another spray. And another. Her body convulsed in waves, each one expelling more fluid, soaking everything within reach.
Alphonse held himself deep inside her through all of it.
"Inside her," Lina said. Her voice was barely a whisper now, her own body trembling on the edge. "Breed her. Fill her. Every drop."
He came.
His cock swelled and erupted deep inside the beastling's convulsing cunt. The first jet of cum hit her cervix with a force that made Petra's wail. More followed. Thick, heavy ropes of semen flooding her compact channel, painting her walls, pushing against the entrance to her womb.
The volume overwhelmed her. Within seconds, thick white streams were leaking from around his shaft, mixing with her squirt, dripping down through the dark fur of her mound.
He held himself inside her. Felt the last pulses subside.
Petra lay beneath him, destroyed. Her rabbit ears had gone limp, drooping to either side of her head.
Through the connection, her thoughts were fragments.
'Full.'
'So full.'
'Bred.'
'Like an animal.'
'I am an animal.'