Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My first day at Applebaum’s Finishing School is a short one. I arrive late in the evening with my friend Tokino. His father sent us to the school—I’m on scholarship as an orphan, of course, and Tokino is here at his father’s request. The school is an hour’s hard ride outside of Ransen, and further by carriage, in the largest house I’ve ever seen. It’s a mansion, really—a very old but well-kept building, lovely green ivy climbing up the first two stories on both wings of the front exterior, a tower several stories high in the center.  

When we arrive, it’s after dinner, but since it’s early summer—mid-May—the moon of light is just now setting, turning the sky lovely shades of orange and red. The coachman opens the carriage door, and my friend Tokino, a wealthy merchant’s son, is helped from the carriage first. I follow timidly, surprised and intimidated by the sea of young faces returning my gaze. 

“Please welcome our two newest students: Tokino and Konoe,” a refined male voice announces. Standing aside from the neat row of a dozen young cats—more than I have ever seen in one place, in fact, as my village was very small and is still recovering from famine—is who I presume to be an instructor. He seems to be in his late 20s or early 30s.

“Welcome, Tokino and welcome, Konoe,” the boys say in perfect unison. I feel their eyes upon me, and I am terribly flustered. I have lived alone for a long time but last week agreed to follow Tokino to his home on his return trip from peddling in my village. My stay was cut short, however, by his father, who was very displeased, as he had not been informed of my arrival or even of my invitation. He arranged for both of us to be sent here since Tokino refused to leave my side, and his father had heard that graduates from this private school graduate as good, compliant apprentices around town.

It’s my fault we are here, in a nutshell. I stare down at my feet.

Tokino returns the greeting with a bright, bold, and cheeky smile on his face. “Thank you. We are both glad to be here.” 

“Ahem,” the instructor clears his throat. He is wearing black and lime from head to toe—impeccably dressed in a waistcoat and slim-cut trousers. He has a medium build with short blonde fur and hair and striking blue eyes, accented by spectacles. “I’m Virus, the headmaster of this school. Boys, please excuse yourselves and get started on your evening routine.”

The young cats file back up the steps and inside in an orderly fashion. They don't move like I expect kittens to move.

“You two, let’s start in my office.” We follow Virus to his office, where he leans against his desk and takes a good look at us from head to toe. We simply stand before him, not speaking. I’ve never been appraised in this way before and I find it unnerving, and it only gets worse when he pushes off his desk to walk around us.

“Stand up a little straighter,” he tells Tokino. His sharp tone makes me aware of my slouching as well, so I too pull myself up to my full height—still nearly a head shorter than both of them. “I realize you’ve been traveling, but you are filthy. My associate, Trip, is in charge of the boys’ daily lives, including hygiene, and he will show you where to bathe before bed. I’ll be administering some tests tomorrow to determine your class schedules. Now, please take your belongings upstairs. Trip will have your room assignments ready. Good night.”

“Good night, sir,” Tokino mumbles, and I copy his words softly, not knowing what else to do. 

I have nothing but a small pack, so I help Tokino with his trunk. We carry it upstairs where we find another adult, perhaps in his early 20s. He looks like he’s wearing clothes similar to Virus—black and green—and he is blonde but he has red fur and is a larger breed than the headmaster in stature. He has the same unnerving blue eyes.

“Tokino,” he says gruffly. His voice is not nearly so pleasant as Virus’.

“Sir?” Tokino looks up. 

“Your room is down the west wing, fourth door on the left. Your roommate is Mizuki. Konoe.”

I look up. 

“Konoe.” Trip repeats. I must be meant to answer, but I can’t find my voice. I finally manage to squeak out something.

“S-sir?” 

“First, answer your elders when spoken to. We do not tolerate rudeness here. Second, you are in the east wing, fourth door on the right. Your roommate is Aoba.”

“Wait,” Tokino says. “We can’t stay together?”

“Your father requested we keep you away from the orphan.” It stings to hear myself referred to in that way, but it’s an apt description. I lower my ears and my tail droops. “You will, of course, probably see each other in class, at meals, and during free time.”

“But why?” Tokino whines. “He’s lived alone for so long!”

“Shut your trap and put your belongings away,” Trip growls. “You have two minutes to get back here with the bathrobe and slippers you'll find in the closet.” He leans against the wall, alternating his icy glare between us.

This is horrible!

I rush off to find my room—it’s huge, bigger than my house in Karou, and currently unoccupied—so I stuff my pack in the closet, pull off my boots, slip on the slippers, and bring back the robe, looking up at Trip obediently.

“You’ve put your dirty feet into your clean slippers,” he says. “Take them off till after your bath.”

“Oh,” I say, blushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Shall I fetch my boots?” 

“Don’t bother.”

Tokino knew what to do, apparently, since he is carrying his slippers and still wearing his boots. I am feeling like an idiot now—but I didn’t know. We both follow Trip down the third hallway to the bathroom—if it can even be called that. This too is larger than my entire house was in Karou.

The ornate double doors paned with frosted stained glass swing open with a soft creak. When we enter, there are rows of basins—mirrors, sinks, and faucets with running water, which my village didn't have—on either side in the antechamber. There are about a dozen sinks. Plus, on the walls on either side, I see full-length mirrors and several open shelving units, labeled with names where students store personal grooming products. The storage unit is filled with luxury items I've never seen: beautiful soap, fancy glass bottles, plush towels, and more. I look at Tokino, and neither of us has brought anything like that. I’m 16 and not old enough to shave, and I used my own handmade bars of soap or stuff he gave me as gifts—soap is really precious—at home.

But Trip leads us past the sinks to the next room, which is lined with toilet stalls—each has a door, thankfully.  

“Do either of you need to go?”

I ate very little today and yesterday due to nerves—but Tokino stops. When he is finished, we wait for him to wash his hands and follow us back into the bathing area. There is a large bath—I’ve heard of hot springs baths, but this one appears to be sculpted from stone. There are several showers attached to hoses surrounding the pool as well. It smells like the water is scented; a pleasant mint and citrus fragrance floods my nostrils. Trip hands each of us a towel and a small washing basin, including two bottles, a bar of soap, a washcloth, a scrub brush, and a comb.

“Strip and get in the shower. Throw your clothes in the laundry. You won't be wearing these here, as we provide uniforms for our students. Wash your hair and fur thoroughly. Scrub your nails with the brush provided and then comb the conditioner through your hair. For hygienic reasons, you will be checked for lice and other illnesses before you are allowed to consort with your fellow students.” 

“Lice? Neither one of us has lice!” Tokino snaps angrily. “How dare you even suggest such a thing!”

“It’s simply our policy to check for communicable diseases before setting you loose among the population. Relax,” Trip says. He takes up his position in the bathing chamber, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Is he planning to watch us bathe? Or is he just watching to make sure we obey? Either way, he is making me nervous.

I glance up at Tokino, who doesn’t seem to mind his attention. He pulls his shirt off overhead and turns on the shower. I follow suit, but I don’t feel comfortable. I turn on the shower on the other side of Tokino, further away from Trip, and he clears his voice.

“Use this one instead, pretty kitty.” A shiver courses up my spine when he addresses me with that pet name, and I look over at him. He’s nodding at the shower on his right, across the room from Tokino. However, I don't exactly have a choice except to obey, picking up my basin, towel, and the shirt I’ve already taken off and folded. “I don’t know what kind of relationship the two of you have, but it won’t be continuing here. We don’t allow our students to fraternize.” 

“That’s not...” Unable to defend myself, I feel myself blush, my cheeks burn, and the heat floods my ears and chest. I really wish I hadn’t taken off my shirt yet.

“Oh? Do these oversized ears blush? Cute. You really are going to be a popular one here.” Trip strokes my ears gently. I duck my head uncomfortably, making my way to the other shower.

“Don’t touch him! And he’s just my friend, that’s all,” Tokino growls at Trip. I really don’t need his protection, and I am afraid Tokino is going to get in trouble if he keeps up his current attitude.

“Shut your mouth and busy your hands.”

It’s really uncomfortable to bathe around other cats—I’ve never exposed my body to anyone else that I can remember—I mean, sure, my mom must have seen me naked, but it's been more than ten years since she passed away. In my village, I bathe in a cold fresh-water pond and only when it is deserted. But I just keep my back turned to Trip and Tokino and pretend like I’m here on my own.

“Oy, pretty kitty. Don’t forget the shampoo.”

I turn my head and look in the basin at the two bottles. Shampoo? I don’t know what that is, and my confusion appears on my face. I currently have the bar of soap in my hands and was about to lather up my hair.

“You weren’t going to rub that bar of soap in your hair, were you? Gods, what a savage little beast you are! Use the bottle marked shampoo—just a little bit—and then rinse it, and repeat. Then, add some from the other bottle and comb it through your hair to condition it. Do all your fur so it’s easier to comb.”

“Okay,” I say softly. “Um, thank you.”

I see Trip smiling, but even his smile looks disingenuous. Everything about him gives me the creeps. I follow his instructions and am surprised to find that just a little bit of the liquid soapy substance makes a huge lather. I lather up my ears and tail as well as the fur below my belly and then rinse it. It smells nice—like lemons and something herbal. And these were just given to me. I can hardly believe the extravagance.

After rinsing the second lather from my hair and body, I comb conditioner through my hair and fur. It doesn’t lather, but it detangles all the knots—I am a short-haired breed, but I have very thick fur which mats easily—making it silky and soft. It smells good, too—minty and fresh. It tingles my scalp and my skin, wherever it touches me, in fact, and it makes me feel a little weird. I recognize the scent from the steaming pool, too.

I use the scrub brush on my claws and my toes, removing all the dirt from them, and the washcloth over the rest of my body. Even that soap smells minty, and it’s a nice scent. It makes me feel relaxed, weirdly.

“Is there catnip in the soap?” Tokino asks, suspiciously. Catnip? I don’t know what that is, either. I make a note to ask Tokino about it later.

“We’d never drug our students,” Trip says. “You’ve had a long day from your journey and taking a hot shower is relaxing. Plus, youngsters like yourself need ten to twelve hours of sleep per night, so I’m sure you're sleep-deprived and it's just catching up with you. I think I’ll start with you, pretty kitty.”

Start what with me, I wonder? I bristle my fur, which looks absolutely ridiculous when I’m wet, but it’s not like I can help my anxiety.

“I’ll check the parts I can’t see underwater first, and then you can float in the pool while I do your head,” Trip says, matter of factly. “Red, just wait your turn for now.”

The room is warm and relaxing, so when Trip drags me out of the shower, I don’t feel the need to dry off, but he throws a towel over my shoulders anyway. 

“You’re dripping on me.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” I say timidly. I seem to have forgotten I’m naked—I’m that relaxed. I stand with my eyes closed, as soon as he turns me around, and I feel him combing through my tail with my comb. It feels weird but not bad. It doesn’t take long, but of course, he comments on the hook at the end of my tail. I hate my crooked tail.

"Look at this, you've got a lucky tail! You really are going to popular with our customers, I mean, our clients."

Customers? What's he talking about? Even if he means the people who are looking for apprentices, what do my looks have to do with anything? But my head feels fuzzy and I don't remember his comment even minutes after it's spoken.

Then, he turns me around to face him and combs through the fur below my belly, and it tickles. I shy away, giggling softly, and he gives me an incredulous look. I really have completely forgotten I'm naked. 

“Ticklish, are you? Somehow I’m not surprised. How old are you?”

“Um, I’m 16,” I say, my voice tired and quiet.

“Well, you look fine so far. Go soak in the pool now, and don’t get conditioner in the water. You’ll rinse it out later.” 

“Okay.”

I obey, wobbling over to the edge of the pool. I’m extremely unsteady on my feet. I didn’t think our journey here was that long, but I certainly am exhausted. My body isn't responding as I want it to. 

However, I grip onto the bars by the steps and lower myself into the steaming water. A bench surrounds the edge of the entire pool. When sitting at the side, the steaming water covers my shoulders, but I’ve gathered my shoulder-length hair up, so it doesn't touch the water. It’s relaxing and the water smells good.

Tokino is now getting his fur examined, and he looks incredibly unhappy. I steal a glance at him and shake my head slightly in warning—doesn’t he know better than to lose his head? To me, Trip feels like a lit fuse, just waiting to explode. Doesn’t Tokino get the same impression? 

It turns out, I needn’t have worried—Tokino doesn’t say anything. As soon as he is declared louse-free, he walks over to the pool, also slightly unsteady, and gets in, taking a seat next to me.

“Oh, this is really nice,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

“What for?” Tokino's blue eyes peer into mine curiously. 

“Well, it’s my fault you’re here now, isn’t it?” 

“Of course not! Don’t be silly, Konoe,” Tokino says, touching my shoulder with his nose. “My father has been displeased with me for a long time since I’m not thrilled about taking over the business. I think he’s planned on sending me here for a while. If anything, I should be apologizing for you, since I got you into this mess with my family drama.”

“No, that’s okay. You were trying to help me,” I say, returning his affectionate gesture—but something yanks my head back toward the edge of the pool, and I hiss in pain. Trip has grabbed my hair and pulled, preventing me from returning Tokino's affectionate nuzzle. 

“What did I tell you about fraternization? Or are you one of those that has to learn the hard way, pretty kitty?”

“I was just—”

“I know what I saw. I want you to keep your hands and body to yourself unless specifically instructed otherwise.”

“But—”

My hair is pulled harshly, and I yelp in pain.

“I’m sorry!”

“We take discipline around here very seriously, though Virus prefers to let new recruits settle in their first night or two. I have a feeling you won’t last if you don’t start to obey immediately.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” I mumble through clenched teeth—he’s still got a handful of my hair in his claws. It’s a huge relief when he lets go—I mean, it feels really good, pleasurable, in a weird way, when I no longer feel that pain. 

Then he starts combing through my hair, carefully. That also feels strangely good. It's terribly unnerving, however.

“I think you have the potential to become something great, kitten. If you follow our instructions, we can make something of you and get you a good position when you graduate.”

I listen quietly, but I wonder what he means. I’m too afraid to ask. As soon as he’s finished going through my hair, he rinses it over the side of the pool, using my basin filled with steaming water, and I’m surrounded by the sweet, minty scent. Now, I feel very sleepy.

“Kitten, are you going to drown? Do you need to get out while I’m doing your little friend’s hair?”

“Oh—no. I’m fine,” I insist. I want to stay with Tokino as long as possible, so I struggle to keep my eyes open. 

Soon, Tokino’s short orange hair is finished and Trip rinses it. Then he orders us to get out and dry off, and we put on our robes, comb our hair, and brush our teeth. He checks our nails for cleanliness. 

“We expect to keep yourselves presentable at all times, for you are now representatives of this fine institution. If you don’t make a good impression, it will reflect poorly on this school's reputation. You will be punished if your hygiene is not up to par with these current standards. Do I make myself clear?”

This is not the first time Trip has referred to punishment. I wonder what he means. Would he lock us away in that tower? That sounds awfully nice to me, I think—I miss my privacy already.

“Now. Head back to your rooms. Put away your belongings before going to bed. You will find issued sleepwear in the closet, although yours may be a bit too large for you, pretty kitty,” he smiles down at me. “I think you will have some tailoring ahead of you tomorrow. We don’t have anything to fit a cat of your size.” 

Normally, I would bristle or growl at such a rude comment. But I’m tired, so I just don’t care. I just answer, “Yes, sir,” and try to stifle a yawn.

Trip hums, putting a finger on his chin, looking down at me. 

“You’re certainly much more mellow after that bath. I should probably make a note of that. The both of you would do well to obey instructions tomorrow and try to stay out of trouble your first week. If you can do that, you will have an enjoyable stay with us. In our experience, troublemakers tend to make themselves known during their first week. So if you are compliant and biddable, you will earn your instructors’ trust and goodwill. If you don’t, well, you will be fighting your way back your entire stay.”

Again—a comment about punishments, except this one is veiled. What exactly is this? Some sort of military academy? Reform school?

He walks us back to our bedrooms.

“Room inspections are performed every morning by the prefect, and surprise inspections can be performed anytime by the headmaster. Any cat who does not keep his room up to standard is made an example of.”

Yet another threat? I try to keep myself from clicking my tongue or rolling my eyes. I’ve lived alone for so long with no one to answer to but myself that this is going to be difficult.

“The other students will return shortly. Make sure your lights are out by ten. Konoe, Aoba will not be sleeping in his room tonight. You’ll meet him tomorrow. Good night.” He brushes my ears lightly and leaves. I flinch under the casual touch. It's intrusive and unwelcome.

I’m too slow to ask about my roommate, and honestly, I really don’t care. Maybe he went home to visit his family. It would be nice to have a family to visit, I think, enviously. I push my door open. My room faces south, and the large window looks out the rear of the building, but outside is too dark to see anything. Maybe there's a garden down there. I sigh as I open the window, letting in a cool evening breeze. It feels nice on my skin.

The room is divided down the middle. I see myself reflected in the full-length mirror on the back of the door—and I look very different dressed in this robe. I should find the pajamas first, I suppose. My hair and fur are still damp from the bath.

Aoba’s belongings are on the right side, so I take the bed on the left. It’s a real bed—not a futon like I slept on at home. It’s got a box spring underneath the mattress and it creaks when I sit on it, but it's comfortable. I worry a little about rolling off it in the night, but I think it's because I've never slept in a real bed. Truthfully, I don't move around that much in my sleep. It’s made up neatly in white bedding, a down comforter and two pillows, which are softer than anything I own. They smell nice—like that minty fragrance from the bath.

Also, each side of the room has its own small closet, desk, chair, and clothing rack. In the closet, I find several uniforms, a formal, fancy suit that includes a vest and cravat—something so dressy I’ve never had an occasion to wear such an outfit— swim trunks, and a looser fitting outfit probably designed for sports and outdoor activities. There is a shelf on the side that includes underclothing, socks, and pajamas. I pull on a pair of underwear and the pajamas—which are indeed too long in the arms, but the bottoms are shorts, so they fit fine.  

My desk is supplied with pens, pencils, paper, a ruler, a protractor, and erasers, as well as a variety of art supplies, such as charcoal, pastels, paint, and brushes. There is a variety of paper: ruled, graph, music sheets, and stuff for sketching and painting. 

I’m overwhelmed by everything. The items in this room probably are more expensive than everything I’ve ever owned in my entire life—and I can’t believe this is where I’m staying from now on. Perhaps it won't be so bad here after all. Of course, I never had much use for art supplies at home. I learned to read from my mom when I was young, plus Tokino has been helping me recently, so I can read much better now than I could earlier, and I’ve found I really enjoy it. I can travel to worlds other than my own, learn history, science, math, and all sorts of interesting things just by diving into a book. But my favorite thing to read is fiction. I can disappear altogether into a world of fantasy and fairytale, only coming up for air when it’s too dark to read the print. However, at home, reading was a luxury I could only afford after my work in basic survival was completed.

Since Tokino showed me that every symbol makes its own sound, I can read more than picture books. I can sound out words I don’t know, and I’m a voracious reader. There is no lending library in Karou, so I would borrow books from Tokino and read them over and over. Mother had a few books and I treasured them, but they were too heavy to take when I left home—except for my favorite, Grimm’s Book of Fairytales. I couldn’t leave it behind. I remember my mom reading me stories from this book when I was a child, and I’m reminded of her whenever I touch the cover.

Taking it out of my pack, I set it carefully on my desk, along with a poem my father wrote and his silver ring—my only family heirloom. Father died before I was born, but he was a poet and loved to sing, from what Mom told me.  

Briefly considering paging through the book before lights out, I glance at the clock. It’s late—already 9:30. I’m still very sleepy, so instead, I glance up at the light and shiver reflexively. It’s an oil lamp, and though the flame is covered, when I get close I still see the flame flickering. I hate fire. This hatred has always been with me, no matter how I’ve tried to accustom myself to it. I just can’t rid myself of this weakness. I find the switch and turn off the light, feeling relief as soon as the flame is extinguished.

I climb into bed, slipping my legs underneath the covers. The sheets feel cool and smooth on my legs, silky almost. The window is open, and I can smell the ivy from outside my window. It’s a nice fresh smell. I wonder if it will lose its leaves as it gets colder. Eventually, the moon of shadow rises and silver rays shine into the room on the floor, and a soft breeze plays gently in the sheer lace curtains. Lace decorating a window? What an extravagance! I’ve never heard of such a thing. This must be fancier than the royal palace.

The bed is quite cool at first, but as I start my evening grooming routine, noticing how soft and silky my fur is after the shampoo and conditioner, I warm up quickly. I snuggle into the comforter, like a baby bird in its nest, and I drift off to sleep in the middle of grooming my tail. I sleep soundly in the soft comfortable bed, a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

In the morning, I’m woken by the tolling of a bell—maybe the tower is actually a bell tower? I’m not sure. But I guess it means I should get up. I wash my face using water from the barrel first and then I try to dress in my uniform. The pant legs are really too long but the waist fits well. It’s a nice uniform—the summer weight fabric is a blue and white pinstriped linen, and there’s a matching waistcoat, which fits perfectly. I fold over the hem of the trousers so I don’t get them dirty, and then button up my shirt after fastening the collar and cuffs onto it. It’s a light cotton, perfectly pressed, but again, the sleeves are too long, so it looks ridiculous. I struggle to tie the gold silk cravat, but I get it looking half-way decent. The vest helps, but I look like I’m dressing up in someone else’s clothes.

There’s a straw boater’s hat trimmed with a blue ribbon which I assume is meant for outdoors, so I leave it for now. I put on ankle boots over my socks, then run a brush through my hair while standing in front of the mirror. My hair looks very different—it’s soft and silky, not stiff or matted like it usually looks in the morning. I always wake with terrible bedhead, but this morning, my hair is golden and shiny—probably from the lovely shampoo and conditioning treatment yesterday.

I’m not sure what I need to bring with me, so instead, I make up my bed as best I can and then look around, making sure the room is neat and tidy. I’ve just finished when there’s a heavy knock at the door, and it’s pushed open before I can answer.

In the doorway is a tall, young cat—I think I saw him yesterday. He’s tall and slim with striking orange hair in a long ponytail down his back. He has short, fine hair on his ears and tail, and small dark brown eyes. He is glaring at me from the doorway as though I have somehow offended him—and I only just arrived!

“Um, good morning,” I try, keeping my voice soft and even.

“Hi. You’re new here, right?”

“Yes. It’s my first day. I’m Konoe.”

“I know. I met you yesterday.”

Perhaps he was introduced to me, but I wasn’t given anyone’s names. I nod my head, tilting it to the side slightly. 

“May I help you?” I ask.

“Room inspection. I’m Tomoyuki.” He doesn’t wait for the invitation, just enters. “Where’s your roommate?”

“I don’t know. Trip told me he wouldn’t be spending the night here last night.”

“Oh. I see,” Tomoyuki says disdainfully, as though it’s my fault my roommate has gone missing. He pokes around in the things on my desk and even opens my closet. 

“You have to look inside the wardrobe?” I ask.

“Why? Are you hiding something you don’t want me to find?”  

“N-no,” I stammer. “I-I’m just surprised, is all.”

“All right then. You don’t have a lot of stuff. This is all standard issue.” I clearly hear the snobby tone in his voice—the familiar sound of the privileged when talking down to someone like me.

“I didn’t have much to bring with me.” 

He takes another look at me, dragging his eyes up and down my body, making me extremely uncomfortable.

“I see.”

I’m sure he sees quite a bit with those wandering eyes of his. I bristle slightly but keep myself under control.

“Are you bristling at me?”

“N-no,” I stammer again, desperate for this room inspection and inspection of my person to be finished. 

“I’m checking out your appearance, and it’s sloppy. Your uniform doesn’t fit at all. You need to get it tailored. I mean, sure, we don’t have anyone your size here, but still. You’re tiny. How old are you?” 

I try really hard to settle my fur and I swallow the growl in my throat. How rude. I take a deep breath that does not sound at all like a sigh.

“I’m 16.”

“Did you just fucking sigh at me? I’m the prefect. I can get you punished for that kind of attitude. I have real authority here, you know.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I know what I heard. And did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“No! I didn’t—”

“Shut your stupid mouth, you dumb bitch.” 

My fur actually does bristle at his insult this time. I’m used to being harassed, but usually over land disputes or something upon which a cat’s livelihood depends—not over nothing.

“See? You are bristling! I knew it. You’re the charity case, aren’t you?” 

He says "charity case" like it's a contagious disease. I don’t reply. What can I even say to that? I just stare at the floor. To my utter annoyance, I feel a finger underneath my chin, lifting it up condescendingly. He is not an instructor here. What right does he have to treat me like this? Rage flashes through my chest and my fangs bare.  

“I knew it! Orphans definitely have no class. Of course, who could have taught you? You’re going to bring down the reputation of the entire school. And now you’re baring your fangs at me? You think you’re hot shit? I’ll show you whose boss. You’d best learn to mind your betters.”

Him? He is certainly not my better. My eyes flash with anger, and I meet his gaze directly.

“Fuck you,” I say softly, not raising my voice, but instead keeping it even. I do not drop my gaze and meet his challengingly.

“You’re in for it now, stupid little kitten. Let’s see if you ever swear at me again.” 

He drops my chin and turns on his heel, leaving my room and slamming the door behind him. I take another deep breath, trying to contain my anger. I walk back over to the water barrel and splash my face with water, trying to cool off. I cast my gaze out the window for a few minutes. There is a garden out there—it’s lovely, too, blooming with early summer blossoms. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Not more than five minutes pass when there’s another knock at my door and it opens. It’s Trip.

“Come with me. Now.”

I walk over to the door, intending to obey, but my arm is grabbed harshly.

“Why weren’t you at muster?”

“Muster? What is that?”

“After room inspection, all students gather in the hall for attendance. The prefect should have told you. But it seems you were too busy picking a fight.” 

“N-no—I wasn’t—” Today is not going well, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet. When Trip drags me past the stairs, I can smell bacon and fresh biscuits wafting up the stairs, and my stomach growls hungrily. Shit! Did Tomoyuki really tattle on me over nothing? I don’t even understand what happened or how I managed to offend him, except for not having any parents, and I can't help that! For now, I don’t resist and I follow Trip obediently.

“What the fuck are you thinking? I told you we try to give our students a little time to adjust when they first arrive, but could you really not help yourself?”

“That’s n-not what—”

“I’m not asking for excuses. He’s told me everything I need to know. Your attitude is causing problems already and you’ve been here less than 24 hours. We need to scrub this contagion clean and prevent the infection from spreading.”

“What?” I’m appalled by the metaphor. He sees me as an infection? My ears droop despite my better judgment. I know I’m not the problem here, but the way I’m being handled really hurts.

“Literally, we are going to scrub you clean,” Trip says, his voice changing to something calm and menacing, as he pushes open the bathroom doors and drags me to a sink. He grabs my tie and yanks it down toward the basin.

I cough with effort—he has tightened the tie around my neck enough to frighten me—and my mouth opens to get in as much air as possible—and right then, he shoves a bar of soap in my mouth, gagging me with it. It burns my mouth, my nose, my eyes, my tongue, and my throat, and I start to gag repeatedly. It tastes so utterly disgusting—I mean, I have never had anything so vile in my mouth.

I try to push it out of my mouth, but touching the bar with my tongue burns and makes it taste even worse. My head is hanging over the sink, thankfully, since drool starts dripping out the corners of my mouth, down my chin and around Trip’s hand, which is holding the bar of soap in place. He is pulling my tie with his other hand.

I start to fight in earnest now, pushing myself off the sink, feeling like I might suffocate, feeling panic and fear rise up as my defenses kick in, and Trip starts to coo softly.

“Now, now, pretty kitty. Calm down and take the punishment you’ve earned. If you don’t, I’ll have to subject you to something worse. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Mmm!” I protest, and tears run down my face, but I try desperately to regain control of my body, which is shaking violently. Every inch of me is trying to reject this punishment—but I am truly frightened, especially of Trip's calm, relaxed tone. He sounds like he is enjoying himself, and indeed, when I look in his eyes, he looks like he is aroused.

He moves the bar of soap around in my mouth, and it squeaks grotesquely against my molars. The sound is wrong—it’s not something that belongs in my mouth! I have to struggle with my tongue to relax, and I gag again, coughing violently. Trip chuckles softly.

“Ah, you won’t get very far in this world with your background if you’re already gagging, pretty kitty. You have such a pretty mouth, too.”

A chill ruffles through my fur, and I shiver violently, trying not to choke. But choking isn’t something you can stop yourself from doing. It’s not a voluntary response. It’s an automatic reflex, a response to having something inside you that does not belong there.

“Mmm!” I beg, looking at him directly, pleading as best I can without words. “Mmm!” 

“That’s better. This look—it’s much better than the rage I saw on your face just a few minutes ago. This helplessness, this submission, this utter defeat—this is what you should remember, pretty kitty.”

Another chill rushes through my body, and I am sure I am going to vomit. I gag again, helplessly. How long is he going to torture me? Please—please stop!

I do my best to relax, my hands white-knuckled on the edge of the sink, resisting the pull of my tie, which is tightening like a noose, and the push of the soap into the back of my throat. The bitter taste starts oozing down the back of my throat, so I try to tilt my head forward into the sink, letting the saliva from my mouth drip out. 

Tears are falling freely now—and I can taste a slightly salty taste in the back of my mouth. This has got to be one of the worst experiences of my life. My heart is racing, thumping loud in my ears, and my body is sweating. This has to be enough, doesn’t it? I look up at Trip again, tears glistening on my lashes.

He just returns my gaze, almost heatedly. It turns the blood in my veins to ice—and I freeze. I could die here, and no one would know. No one could stop him from suffocating me or poisoning me. I know how to make soap—I know it’s poisonous. It’s not ever good to ingest it, and that’s part of why it tastes so awful. Your body knows it’s bad for you.

Please, I think. Please. Enough.

“You’re awful pretty when you cry, kitten. You’ll be careful to keep your tears to yourself for as long as you can—since I know we have some customers who like that kind of thing. Maybe I won’t tell Virus how pretty you look—if you can behave yourself a little better. Maybe we can come to an arrangement.”

“Mmm,” I beg again, quietly this time, submissively—this seems to be what he wants. And it comes out again, this time as a sob. And I can’t help it—I start to gag for real now—coughing and gagging—over and over.

Finally, Trip has to pull the bar out of my mouth, but pieces of it are stuck deep in my molars. I can still taste it—and it’s so bitter and revolting—but I hardly have time to think about that, since I’m too busy vomiting into the sink. And the stuff I’m vomiting is bile and saliva mixed with soap. It tastes just the same as it did going down.

I spend about five entire minutes with my body heaving violently, heaving up every last thing from the very bottom of my guts. As soon as I’m finished, I drop to the floor in a heap. I’m exhausted, covered in tears, and my mouth tastes terrible.

“So. Was that an effective lesson, do you think? We don’t swear at the prefects at this institution. And certainly, you are not to get on his bad side on your very first day. Now, I suppose I’ll have to tell Virus what happened and make sure this was enough of a punishment. And it looks like we need to tailor your clothes. Come on, then.” Trip is speaking as though what went on between us was a perfectly normal interaction. That terrifies me.

Instead of allowing me to walk—or maintain any shred of dignity—Trip hoists me up over his shoulder and carries me down the stairs to the headmaster’s office. I ignore the wonderful scent of breakfast—it only makes me feel ill.

Chapter Text

“It’s his first morning here.” 

Virus is certainly not pleased, not with me and definitely not with Trip. 

“You couldn’t let him have a single day to himself, could you? I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave this one alone the moment I laid eyes on him.” 

Virus is addressing Trip as though he were a child—a bully—rather than a fellow instructor, and Trip is taking it. What the hell is this place?

I was placed in a soft chair in Virus’ office the moment I arrived, and the dressing down began.

“Konoe, you sure are much dumber than you look to be getting into it right off the bat with the prefect.”

“To be fair, he didn’t actually introduce himself,” I mutter quietly.

“What was that?” Virus snaps, glaring at me.

“I apologize,” I say, a little louder.

“As a charity case, you should tread lightly, kitten. Many of our other students will have it out for you. So handle yourself with care, or this will happen again. In fact, now that Tomoyuki sees you as his enemy, there isn’t much we can do for you. You’d better be on your best behavior around him.”

I sigh heavily, and Virus and Trip both look at me, appalled.

“Did you sigh like that in front of him?”

I don’t say anything at first—terrified of the look they are giving me.

“Did you?” Virus repeats himself.

“Um, perhaps, b-but I’m just tired,” I try to explain. 

“Granted, you are malnourished and come from a region that is uneducated and uncultured, but you must try to fit in here. I don’t care how isolated you were. Here, you need to get along with everyone. You don’t have to like them. I don’t like most of them, either. Just pretend you do, or this will happen again.” Virus turns to Trip. “He’s malnourished. In order for him to see clients quickly, we need to get his diet up to par. While the soap was clever, it was a mistake to use it on him this early in the game. The punishment technically fit the crime, I'll give you that much. But in his case, I would have preferred something else. Now, he won’t want to eat.”

“Sorry,” Trip says sheepishly—to Virus, not to me.

Virus sighs—in the exact same way I was just rebuked for, in fact. It irritates the hell out of me.

“Take him to the laundry and to tailor his clothes. He should bring his other things as well. We will get them started. Then, send him back to my office for testing.”

Trip motions for me to follow him. I want nothing to do with him, so I keep my distance. He scares me, but at least Virus keeps him in line. 

“You heard him. I’ll wait here. Get your other things.” 

I obey, but I’m not outside of his reach before my ear is grabbed—and it hurts! I yelp in pain—it’s worse than when he yanked my hair last night. 

“When I give you a command, you are to acknowledge it.”

“I’m sorry—yes, sir,” I whimper, trying to get him to release my ear. I’m afraid to even look at him now. 

“Now go.”

He’s pissed. I know he’s pissed he got in trouble and I'm sure he blames me. I’m really afraid of what he will do to me if I disobey or delay, so I rush up the stairs back to my room and gather my clothes from the wardrobe. I look out the window, wondering if I might be able to climb down the vines from the second floor. If I couldn’t make it, I’d probably break my ankle in the fall—and I don’t want to think about the consequences of that too much now—so I just obey instead. 

I pile all my new uniforms in my arms and rush back down the stairs.

“No running! It’s unseemly.” Unseemly. What a pretentious word! That was Virus speaking. “This is not a zoo.” He is standing next to Trip, which soothes my nerves a little. I slow my steps. “I appreciate your obedience, but running is never necessary, kitten.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say, wondering if that will become my new mantra.

“Now, follow Trip to the laundry and get your clothes fit for your petite little frame. You will look adorable in the uniform—and in your new suit, too.” He pets my ears gently, which feels nice after Trip pulled my one ear so harshly. 

We walk down the hall toward the back of the mansion, out through the kitchen to the laundry. There, we meet a cat with short brunette hair and matching fur, who is introduced as Takahashi. He pulls out a pair of spectacles from his pocket to give me a closer look.

“Ah. You’re new here. I heard someone like you would be joining us. And certainly, you will be a challenge. Please stand up here.”

Someone like me? What does that mean? Short, like me? Poor, like me? I bite my tongue. He motions to a step stool, and I obey, as Trip takes a seat on a chair, crossing his arms across his chest again. He does like to watch, I guess.

I’m measured carefully and my trousers are marked with a chalk pencil. Then, my sleeves are marked the same way. 

“The waistcoat is a good fit. Let’s see how the suit fits.”

Am I supposed to just strip down and try it on here? I wonder, looking around. There’s nowhere to change, so I slip out of my pants as discreetly, if such a thing is possible and put on the suit’s trousers. They are a much trimmer fit, hugging my butt a lot closer than the uniform does. The waistcoat fits well, but the jacket needs to be taken in and up as well.

He also measures my head—which I find weird since I have that hat upstairs. I mention it, and Takahashi smiles and says that this is for formal headwear. Fancy! 

“I’ll keep your clothes for now, but I should be done with the first set in about two hours. You should have them back then. In the meantime, you can wear this.”

He hands me a silk robe—it feels very fancy against my skin, and for sure, I shouldn’t be wearing any such thing. First, it’s much too expensive. Second, it’s much too indulgent. It feels indecent against my arms and my legs, making me feel naked, even though I’m wearing an undershirt and boxers underneath. The colors of the silk are bright gold and red, a paisley pattern—and it’s so lovely—but again, I really should not be wearing it.

“Um. Perhaps I should get my own robe?” I ask, timidly.

“No, you should definitely wear that one,” Trip says. “I think you’ll do better on your tests.”

What? What kind of tests are they going to give me? If anything, it’s much too distracting for my taste. I get a little shiver when the fabric brushes across the exposed part of my shoulder—I almost forget what Trip was doing to me—how he was torturing me with the soap earlier. In any case, I am very uncomfortable. I glance at the larger cat as I hop down from the step stool, and then at the tailor. Takahashi smiles at me.

“Welcome to the school, Konoe. I hope you enjoy it here. I am sure you will be a success.”

“Thank you,” I reply, still tasting a residual bit of soap in my mouth. My stomach feels slightly queasy as I follow Trip back to Virus’ office. Tokino isn’t there yet. Aren’t we doing testing? Together? I haven’t seen him since last night. Has he gotten on with his roommate all right? I’m quite worried.

“Oh, how lovely you look, Konoe,” purrs Virus. “Are you ready?” The way he asks that question makes my already frayed nerves even edgier.

“Um, where’s Tokino?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and submissive, taking care to look up at Virus through my lashes. Even if I don't feel submissive I'm not so dumb to look otherwise.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s taking his tests in another area. He has different skills than you do. Plus his father has paid his fees, and we need to figure out what to do about yours.”

“Wasn’t I offered a scholarship?” I ask. “Um. If I don’t qualify, I can go back to my home. I’m sure I will be fine—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve already used up many of our resources, kitten, including irreplaceable resources, like my time and Trip’s time. So let’s see how you do on the placement tests.” 

I start to feel even more nauseated.

“I’m not feeling very well,” I try again, not allowing my nerves get the best of me, but I really can’t help it. I really want to go back to my room and put on some clothes or at least my own robe. Well, it's not really mine but at least it's not this indecent-feeling one.

“I’m sure that’s normal, what with the punishment you earned yourself this morning. Surely, you’ll be more careful with what comes out of your mouth from now on. Keep in mind, Konoe, that you will earn that same punishment for biting or baring your fangs as well.”

“Um, yes, sir,” I say, looking down at my feet, which look strange—my legs and feet are bare—I was told to leave my shoes and socks downstairs with my clothes. I curl my legs underneath my body as I sit, in order to make myself more comfortable.

“The written portion first, and you will have quiet in the parlor.” 

I’m led to the front entrance, the room at the front of the house. It’s bright and sunny, painted a cheerful yellow above the chair railing and wallpapered a floral print below—a desk sits in the corner, overlooking a window there. There is sumptuous padded furniture as well, mixed with velvets, stripes, and solid fabric. A few photos hang on the wall as well as what looks like an award.

“When you’ve finished the test, just wait for one of us to collect you, please.” 

“Yes, sir,” I say. I’m miserable. Don’t they receive guests in here? Well, surely, I’ll be fine. It would be unseemly to greet a guest wearing nothing but a robe, especially this robe—especially if Virus said running in the hallway was “unseemly.”

He waits for me to sit down at the desk, and he hands me a small exam booklet, a pencil, and an eraser. He shuts the door on his way out.

“Good luck, Konoe.”

It certainly is quiet in here, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the room. As I open the test booklet, the chime rings loudly, startling me. It’s 10 AM. But the noise scares the living daylights out of me, making me bristle my fur in surprise. It’s not that loud, but because the room is so quiet, it seems very loud.

I curl up my feet on the chair as I scan the first few questions in the book. It looks like math is first. The questions start simply and increase in difficulty, but I’m able to solve all of them easily enough. I’m glad I borrowed that book on math from Tokino. 

Next is a brief section on reading comprehension. It’s a piece of cake and kind of fun, too. I read through the passage and answer questions about what I just read. If I forget, I just go back and read the passage again and find the answer, like a treasure hunt!

I get through that section even faster than the math. The clock strikes 11 AM, making me ruffle my fur all over again. I can’t believe an hour has passed, but my test is over half-way finished now.

Now, I flip through the history questions. I know many of these, but some of the current events I’m not familiar with, so I skip those questions. These are short paragraphs essays, so I can’t exactly fake it if I don’t know the answer.

The last section is about science, and again, I thank the gods that I borrowed a few books about science from Tokino.

I’m finishing up the last two questions when the door opens. It’s Trip—and I open my mouth to let him know I’m almost finished—except he is already speaking and not to me.

“If you could just wait in here for a moment, the headmaster will see you soon.”

Trip, that bastard, lets in a stranger—while I am sitting in this unseemly robe. I bristle my fur defensively when I see the sheer size of the cat he has just ushered into my quiet space. If I hadn’t made a sound, I think I might have gone unnoticed, except for the garish silk robe.

“Hello, there.”

The stranger’s voice has a weirdly pleasant timbre—silky and soft in my ears, sinking in and coating them like honey, and it’s embarrassing to even think that about some strange man’s voice. I’ve never thought that about another cat’s voice in my entire life—so why does it have to come up now, when I am alone in a room with a stranger wearing this stupid silk robe and my underwear?! And this stranger? He’s a fucking giant. I mean, is he even a cat?!

He’s dressed to the nines—wearing a sharply tailored slim cut navy suit that looks slightly military inspired, a pale blue shirt that perfectly accents his eye—and I did say eye singular, since his right eye is mysteriously covered by an eyepatch. He is missing an eye! He is holding a top hat in his hands, and gods, he’d be even taller if he were wearing it! He had to duck his head to enter in through the doorway, even without that hat. He couldn't be more intimidating to me if I were sitting here in my underwear, which I am, in fact.

He has long, silver hair that shimmers down his back to his waist, currently pulled back in a ponytail. He is holding a riding crop in one hand, which looks strangely enticing to me, and I just push that thought right back out of my head—what is that even about? And he is armed—not with a pistol, like so many cats are these days, but with a longsword that hangs about his person on the right. On his left hip, he holds a dagger, which, in all honesty, looks about as long as my own sword. I thought I carried a longsword, but I guess mine is really more like a dagger, depending on the size of the cat who wields it. 

Uwaa! He spoke to me, didn’t he? What did he say? I should I respond, shouldn't I? Shit. I can’t remember what he said! And why doesn’t he sit down? Do I have to stand up and greet him? Otherwise, he won't sit down, and he's going to keep staring at me! In either case, it would be the polite thing to do, I suppose. But then—my clothes, or lack thereof, will be even more obvious—shit. 

“Um, g-good m-morning, sir.” 

I feel a blush rising into my ears as I stammer out my greeting in a whisper. Shit. Fuck. Damn. I suppose he is probably tall enough to see whatever he wants from his height, so fuck it. I gather my courage and look him directly in the eye—almost like I am issuing a challenge, and I hold out my hand in a traditional handshake.

“I-I’m Konoe,” I manage not to stammer my own name, and I maintain eye contact as though daring him to touch anything but my hand. I think my fangs might be showing over my bottom lip just a little bit. He smiles—and that chiseled face softens suddenly, and it makes my stomach feel funny, like it’s doing a little flip.

“Charmed, I’m sure. I’m Rai.”

Everything this cat does is elegant and literally charming. Even when he takes my hand—he doesn’t shake it—he kisses the back of it, looking up at me through long, plush silver eyelashes and smiles mischievously, as though he knows he will be flustering me by doing such a thing. It does, indeed, fluster me, and I feel a little shiver from where his soft lips have touched my hand—they feel like velvet—all the way up to my shoulder and my neck, giving me goosebumps.

This is ridiculous.

I’m supposed to be taking a test, for gods’ sake! Talk about a distraction! But I can’t seem to look away. When he takes a seat on the couch, he fluffs out the skirt of his coat just so, in theory, so it doesn’t rumple the fabric. But really, it’s a move with a lot of dramatic flair. I have a coat like that, and I am going to practice sitting like that when it’s finished being tailored. I am going to be just as elegant and graceful.

“Are you new?” the elegant gentleman cat asks. He can’t be terribly old—maybe as old as Trip, maybe his 20s. He just looks very different from anyone I’ve ever seen before.

“Um, yes. I arrived yesterday.”

“So still new enough to be afraid.” If it is a question, it is posed more like a statement than an actual question, and I find it insulting. 

“I’m not afraid.” I'm sure I sound insulted, and I must look it, too, based on his following response.

“Oh? Why is your fur bristled? Why do you bare fangs?” I cover my mouth suddenly, realizing that I am indeed baring fangs, and shit—my claws! They are completely extended as well. I’m not sure whether to hide my claws or my fangs, now that I’ve shown him both. I remember what Virus told me about soap being used for punishment of baring fangs. I wonder what the punishment is for exposing my claws, and I become even more afraid, which I have just denied. This prevents me from withdrawing my claws or hiding my fangs, and I lisp rather desperately over the top of my fangs in my fear.

“Ah—please don’t tell on me! I think I am not allowed to draw claws or bare fangs. Virus would say it is unseemly.”

“Unseemly?” Rai asks, and then he laughs, which sounds even more lovely than his voice. “I suppose that is exactly what he would say. I won’t say anything. But you don't have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I rather like you.”

I’m struck by his forthright remark and it confuses me. Likes me? How? In what way? Why? Exactly what for? And again, why the hell?

My confusion must be obvious, because Rai chuckles again softly and he repeats himself.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to tell on you. I’m just waiting here. That’s all.”

“Um, okay.” Rai smiles at me again, more warmly, more genuinely. His eye sparkles when he smiles. He is very attractive, and I wish I wouldn't notice that when I'm wearing... not so much. I'm at that weird age when parts of my body are less cooperative than I wish they were, and that is making this situation incredibly awkward.

“Where is your home?”

I swallow in response to his question. My home? I’m sure it’s gone now. If I haven’t been there in over a week, surely my neighbors have taken my territory now. I no longer have a home. But instead, I just say the following:

“I’m from Karou.”

“Ah. I see. From the south.”

I’m burning with questions for him. Has he been there? Where is he from? Is everyone his size where he is from? Not only is he tall, but he’s also very broad. Perhaps he can get away with sitting so dramatically because of his size. Who would tell him it looks ridiculous? I would never dare. Although if I were to try such a thing, I’m sure others wouldn’t hesitate to tell me how ridiculous I looked. I am caught staring at him again, and I look away, embarrassed, but he just smiles. I wonder if he has family enrolled here. Why is he visiting? Why did Trip put him in the room with me on purpose? Is he old enough to have a son my age? I don’t think so unless he is much older than he looks.

So why is he here? Maybe he’s offering an apprenticeship? I look at him again more carefully. Obviously, he rode here (I mean unless he is doing something else with a riding crop, and again, I stop that thought right there) and he is armed with swords and not with a pistol. He is extremely well-dressed, so he must make good money. A rancher would have a pistol. A merchant wouldn’t carry swords. Royalty? Shit—is he a prince? He looks like a prince. 

“Are you—?” I end up swallowing the question. Asking outright is unseemly. That damned word again. But if I’m right, I may not be showing him proper respect. I should have bowed, not offered my hand. What do I know about the current royal house? Who is currently in power?

“What is it?” Rai prompts politely.

“Oh, um, nothing.” That’s even ruder, isn’t it? “I mean—” Now I sound uncertain and stupid and like I have no manners. What am I supposed to do?

“You are simply adorable,” the silver cat purrs, obviously delighted, but for what reason, I have no idea!

I’m relieved by his reaction, but I feel terrible. 

“Was I supposed to greet you differently?” I finally ask directly.

“What do you mean?” His voice maintains a soft purr underneath when he speaks. It’s captivating. I love the sound. 

“I don’t know—do something... else? Special?” I don’t look at him when I ask, because I am so embarrassed. If I’ve mistaken him, this is certainly an insult.

“For example, kiss me?” 

I jerk my eyes in his direction in utter shock. I can’t tell whether he is teasing by the tone of his voice, and when I look at him, he doesn’t look like he’s even said a single word. Did I imagine it? Because if he did say those words, there is no way in hell is he a prince! A prince would never say something like that—would he? 

“I’m sorry—sir?” I ask, adding the honorary title people seem to love so much around here at the last minute, realizing I haven’t been using it in this conversation. At all. Shit! I watch him closely now. I've been so disrespectful!

“I wouldn’t have minded, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiles slightly and his eyebrow quirks. He did say that, then? What the hell? Another burst of anger floods my system—but this time, it’s met with something equally powerful, balancing out my anger—and that second feeling is... desire. Oh, gods, no! What the fuck?! My face heats up and I glare back down at my test, trying hard to ignore the activity going on in my lap. Perhaps I should continue, simply pretending he isn’t even here. “My gods. Kitten, you ought to be careful.”

“Careful? Why?”

“Not everyone will be as kind to you, and that face you’re making will surely be the end of your innocence.”

My innocence? What the hell is he talking about? I bristle again and he moves suddenly, faster than I can process. Before my mind can register what has happened, he is towering over me, standing right above me and an intoxicating scent—freshly fallen snow, even now, in the month of May, mixed with pine, like Christmas!—fills my nose, making me feel like the beast Virus tells me I am. I salivate in spite of myself, my eyes dilate, and my body starts to sweat. 

My chin is brushed lightly with the softest leather, and I am drowning in a sea of pale blue, unable to look away. Unlike my staring down of the prefect earlier this morning, this glance captures me completely, making me feel at his mercy, as though hypnotized. A small whine leaks unbidden from my lips and I try to press my lips together, desperate to prevent anything else for sneaking out uninvited. His other hand pulls through the bristled fur on my ears and the spot on the back of my hand where he kissed me singes as though burned.

“You are a gorgeous little creature.” His words are spoken low, making me tremble—but I don’t exactly feel afraid. Well, I am afraid, but I am afraid of my own desire rather than of him. My ears are hot and his eye wanders back up to the source of the heat, and he stares down at me, showing off pearl white fangs and two rows of straight teeth, as white as his fur. When he is looking down at me, I notice his ears are slightly small for his head and rounded than pointed—a strange shape—and his tail bristles as much as my fur does—and it is huge and thick and fluffy—long and white—and perfect—and I want to touch it.

Rudely, I reach my hands out, and he flicks it away teasingly.

“I think you have to let me touch yours first, kitten,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifted in half a smirk. Then the door opens—and it’s Trip. I feel like I should immediately jump away from the larger cat, but I cannot move. Rai simply looks up, almost as though he is disappointed.

“I hope we aren’t getting ahead of ourselves, sir,” Trip says in a joking tone, though his voice is flat.

Rai returns his gaze to me with an earnest smile.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Konoe. Study well.”

As a parting gesture, he leans down and I bristle even more, growling slightly, unable to help myself. I hear a deep purr and a soft chuckle right in my ear and feel the soft, damp touch of his tongue, right on the tip of my ear. Then I watch as the elegant silver cat follows Trip from the room, turning back as soon as he ducks his head through the door to flash me a quick parting smile, flustering me once again. I hear his low chuckle echo in the hall.

I return to my test angrily, but I don’t finish the last two questions even half-way decently. I’m much too distracted—thinking about that fluffy white tail. Also, I don't think about this until later, but I don't rush to brush off my ear. Shouldn't I feel slightly violated? A strange cat just licked me, out of the blue. Shouldn't I be a little worried about that?

Chapter Text

I lose track of time, but the clock strikes twelve, once again, frightening me out of my wits, and I’m still trying to settle my ruffled fur when Virus enters. 

“Two hours. Konoe, how did you fare?” The blonde cat smiles down at me kindly, walking over to collect my exam. I managed to complete the last two questions, though I didn’t really do my best.  

“Um, finished, mostly, sir,” I say quietly.  

He picks up my testing book and pages through it. 

“Indeed, you did much better than I expected. I’m pleased. I can’t wait to score it. Also, it seemed you did quite well on an unexpected unwritten portion of the exam.”

“Unwritten portion?” I echo. “What was that, sir?” I am very careful to call Virus sir, each and every time. For some reason, I find him slightly scary—perhaps because he is looking at my current state of dress or lack thereof.  

“Hmm. I think I understand now.” 

“Understand, sir?”

“You are terribly green, Konoe. We will need to get you in shape quickly. The silver cat who stopped by this morning has been by in periodically, unable to find anyone... suitable. He is very hard to please.” 

“That can’t be true. He said he liked me. Sir.”

“Did he really? Did he say anything else?” 

“He teased me terribly. And he told me he’d see me soon and to study well. Who was he, sir?”

“His name is Rai, and he is a particularly troublesome client, an alumnus himself. Of course, he would like to support the school and particularly our charity cases, I’m sure. I just had no idea what to look for. He only had to state his preference, which he never would. I find him hard to read.”

“I would agree, sir.”

“Did he touch you?” 

“I’m sorry—sir?” I am stunned by the direct question. “What do you mean?”

“Trip told me he was standing quite close to you when he entered the room. Did he actually touch you?”

I look down shyly. 

“Listen, this is important—it could mean all the difference in your stay here, Konoe. Perhaps you might be given a private room, and you might see more of Tokino. Your lessons would change and you’d have more free time.” 

“Really?” 

“You just need to tell me the truth.” 

“Well, sir, I, um, offered to shake his hand, which he took.” 

“Oh, well that—”

“But, sir, he didn’t shake it. He kissed it.”

Virus stops. 

“That is interesting. A new development. Good for you, little one! When he first entered? Before he first sat down?” 

“He didn’t seem to want to sit down till I greeted him, though I did not know the etiquette. I took my best guess, sir.”

“I see. And then?”

“I have to confess, I was terribly flustered, sir. My written test was complete but for the final two questions, and I could not continue while in his presence. I found him quite, um, a distraction.”

“I’m sure you did. Did you find him handsome?” 

“Um, well, sir, I-i am n-not so sure I should s-say such things. I-I am a v-very p-poor student—”

“So you did, indeed, notice his attraction. No cat should be that attractive,” Virus states firmly. “As though crafted by the hand of the goddess herself.”

I blush slightly because I did indeed notice. 

“What was it that Trip witnessed when he returned to bring Rai to my office? He was standing over you? Did he kiss you?”

“Oh, no, sir!” I say, slightly panicked. 

“Yet—something did happen since he saw you trying to escape the larger cat’s touch. Tell me. I know you are innocent. I want to know his intentions toward you.”

“But he could not possibly have any intentions toward me at this p-” 

“Just tell me, please.” Virus speaks more firmly. “Now. Leave nothing out.”

“He was teasing me, and I grew slightly annoyed, but also strangely filled with desire. I couldn’t figure out how to handle my feelings, and he warned me to be careful, saying that others might not be as kind as he would be. I didn’t understand and when I looked up, he suddenly moved and was towering over me. He seemed to be smelling me, and he touched my chin and my ears and hair. He teased me with his tail. When I tried to touch it, he flicked it away, saying I’d need to let him touch mine first. That is when Trip opened the door, he said he would see me soon and I should study well. And then, he licked my ear. It made me feel very strange.”

Virus drops to his knees before my chair. “Konoe. What would you say if I could train you to bring a cat like him—or that very same cat—to his knees before you?”

“I-I do n-not know if I would believe you, sir. Surely you too must be teasing. Sir.” I look down at my hands, which are fidgeting in my lap.

“Do you not see his grace and elegance? That is what I can teach you. And if you are indeed his type, he will definitely fall for you if you had the same level of sophistication. He requires an intelligent companion who can entertain him with witty conversation and is more than just a pretty face. Even with your country ways, you must have shown him intelligence.” Virus gets up, energized. “Little one, you will be eating your lunch with me today. It is a special fare, designed to get your body to optimum health, where your mind will be at its sharpest. I haven’t been this excited about a candidate since we first received Aoba. Come! We will look at your exam over lunch.”

I get up from the desk, still slightly flustered and more than confused. A companion? I don’t understand what Virus means, and I remain on my toes till I do understand. I know I shouldn’t ask all my questions at once, of course, and I wait until my test is graded. 

Our lunch is brought in by the cook, Yoshie, a large friendly woman who is delighted to make my acquaintance, especially while I am dressed in a silk dressing gown. Instead of a cook’s whites, this brunette’s uniform includes a lavender apron over the top of her outfit, and mobcap covering her straight brunette hair and ears. Her tail is dowdy and plain as well, but she finds me captivating, and I am terrified. 

“He is the prettiest little kitten we have had since Aoba, who has grown up so much and never even deigns to speak to me anymore—and you are such a tiny little thing, Konoe-Chan. Surely, you will never forget the cook who nursed you to health?”

I try not to be rude, but she is frightening me. 

“Yoshie, don’t frighten the poor dear. He lost his mother over ten years ago. You are much larger than she was, I’m sure. Give him his meal and some room to breathe, for gods’ sake,” Virus barks uncaringly, but she is not deterred. 

“Anything you like, any craving, anytime—just come see me. I will make it for you. Do you have any favorite dishes from home?”

“Well, my village suffered from famine,” I say softly. “But I adore kuims when they are in season.”

“Wonderful! Thank you, my dear. We will get you on the road to health—a healthy body is a healthy mind.”

“Don’t forget your other charges need you as well, Yoshie,” Virus reminds her. It’s obvious he’s trying to get rid of her.

“Um, thank you, ma’am,” I say softly.

She curtsies deeply. “It is my pleasure.” And she departs.

“She is overblown in everything but really, Konoe, you have permission to attend the kitchens whenever you are hungry, and we encourage you to do so. It’s our firm belief that kittens should eat when they are hungry and avoid stuffing themselves when they are not. You will be in good hands here.”

The meal on my plate is extravagant. There is a hot soup, mixed summer vegetable puréed with cream, served with hot freshly baked bread with creamery butter, and a garden fresh salad—crispy green and red leaf lettuce, with freshly chopped vegetables and nuts, including candies walnuts, served with a lovely vinaigrette dressing. A small cut of delicious meat—I’m told it’s leftover from last night’s dinner: prime rib, with a delicious horseradish dressing, giving it a pop of heat, and a variety of roasted potatoes, only tiny, in many colors of white, yellow, orange, and even purple. They are seasoned with salt and paper and butter and roasted tender—just delicious!

I watch Virus eat and try to imitate his manners. I don’t know which to eat first or how to use all the utensils. Occasionally, he will say, “Napkin on your lap, little one.” “Work from the outside to the inside when the courses are brought in one by one.” “Salad and desserts get smaller forks.” “The main course gets large ones, and fish gets a flat one so you can remove the skin.” For this course, the main plate gets a knife and a large fork, since it’s all on one plate, and it is wonderful. I eat every last bite. I drink my water and even the bread is delicious. 

"Does a baker bring in the bread?”

“Oh no—we have it baked here,” Virus says proudly. “May I offer you a glass?”

“A glass of what, sir?” 

“Wine, of course,” he doesn’t wait and simply pours it. 

“I’ve never had it, sir,” I say shyly.

“There’s a first time for everything. To your success here at Applebaum’s. We have high hopes for you, my dear.”

He clinks the crystal against mine.

“Your ear twitched,” Virus says.

“Oh—yes, it didn’t sound like glass. It was odd—like it was slightly off key.”

“You can tell if a note is off key? Hmm, interesting. That is because these are crystal, not glass, And much more valuable.” He makes a little note in a notebook. “I’ll test you in musical arts as well. And the wine? Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s, um, perhaps an acquired taste, sir.” 

“An excellent answer. Yet, when offered, it’s only polite to accept. Understand and drink.” 

“I see, sir. Thank you.” 

We haven’t been chatting the entire time. I have been watching the meal and how he eats and how the food is brought away. I’m shocked to see he is now paging through the final pages of my test booklet. He marks them off as corrected and hands the book back to me.

“You did very well. Probably the best entrance exam I’ve scored in the years I’ve been here, which means I have underestimated your worth. I am changing my plan as we speak to make you into something much more valuable. Your only weaknesses are in current events and recent history, and I will start you on those topics right away. Additionally, reading a newspaper will be essential for your education and make you an interesting conversational partner. If I am ever not available to discuss current events with you during the day, I will find a substitute. Takahashi is a rather news fiend himself.

“For other skills, such as dancing, posture, riding, swordsmanship, badminton, and another sport, perhaps tennis, we will add them slowly. Obviously, dancing and riding are the most important. We can help you with your posture easily enough. Your training will be difficult and rigorous. And then—we can start including you with the parties the other boys attend—where you will outshine them all.

“Now, keep in mind, that we are investing a lot of time in your training, and you must be doing this of your own will, not for anyone else. Do you understand? I’d hate for you to change your mind at the hard work ahead of you, especially once your colleagues become jealous of your natural talent.”

Does he mean my intellect? That must be the only thing I have in this entire world. What other talents could we possibly be discussing? 

“Yes, sir. I do wish to make something of myself.” I want to be able to sit as dramatically and elegantly as that silver cat did in the parlor this afternoon. I am indeed sure. I want my own source of income. I want to be able to eke out my own living. For now, no one gives me a job description, and I don’t require it. That is fine. I don’t need it. I would like that silver cat to enjoy sitting and talking to me. I’d love to be his apprentice or to have him stop by to visit me. For now, that is my goal.

“I’m glad to hear it. The work will be hard yet rewarding. Let’s get you started right away in class this afternoon. I think I’ll have you do mostly independent study, except with Ribika’s contemporary history. You can start that class this afternoon. However—” he glances at me carefully through spectacles, “I think we’d best get you back in your uniform, as lovely as that robe is on you. We can’t have you distracting the other students.”

I’d forgotten all about it! My face and ears heat up in an instant, and I look down in embarrassment. I’ve been eating here, wearing next to nothing, and I’ve totally forgotten. I’m so ashamed. Virus, however, seems pleased.

“Go on. Come back once you are dressed, and I’ll show you to your class.”

“Yes, sir.”

I obey quickly, running as soon as I am out of sight, eager to get back into my clothes. The uniform looks much better—Takahashi does a wonderful job tailoring, I see, and he is pleased with his work.

“You look pretty as a peach, Konoe. You will surely turn eyes here.”

“Um, thank you, sir. I mean to study well.”

“Well, studying only gets you so far. Be sure to take hold of every opportunity.”

I thank him again, a little confused, but I scamper back to Virus’ office. He’s also pleased with my look. He leads me to the classrooms, which are on the ground floor on the opposite end of the building in the east wing.

“Now, our history instructor is quite strict. I know you wish to learn well, but make sure you do not get on his bad side. He may be annoyed that I am introducing you to the class late.”

I am slightly nervous as Virus knocks on the classroom door. The history teacher is a medium build cat—well, tall and slender—with short, slightly graying ash blonde hair, and blonde fur. He has dark blue eyes and is wearing a traditional dark blue kimono. His face flashes a look of irritation when Virus enters and introduces me, but it softens into a kind smile when his gaze lands on me. 

“Oya, is this our new student?”

“I apologize for the interruption, Ryuuhou,” Virus says. “This is Konoe. He will be joining your afternoon class as of today.”

“Welcome, Konoe.” Ryuuhou glides up to me, almost as though his feet don’t touch the ground—he moves with elegance and grace. “Please, won’t you take the seat up front here so I can get to know you a little better?” 

“Um, thank you, sir,” I say, lowering my face shyly. “Pardon the intrusion.”

Virus leaves, and I feel Ryuuhou’s hand guiding me toward the desk right in front of his own.

“Aoba, please fetch Konoe a book.” 

“Yes, sir.” I turn toward the sound of the voice—and it’s a cat I haven’t seen before. I would have remembered him. He has striking blue hair, cascading in long soft layers around his face and down his back, currently pulled back in a ponytail. The fur on his ears and tail is long and silky, and he has lovely hazel eyes. He has a similar build to mine, though he is a bit taller than me. He hands me a book, and he looks utterly exhausted.

“Thank you, Aoba. I’m your new roommate,” I whisper, but Ryuuhou suddenly appears at my desk.

“Konoe, my sweet little kitten, I know you are new, but I do not believe in withholding discipline from my students just because it is their first day, like the headmaster and his lackey do. In my class, there is no discussion unless you are answering one of my questions. My time is much more valuable than yours. Do you understand?”

His tone makes me lower my tail, and my ears droop.

“I-i apologize, sir,” I murmur quietly. 

“Now, don’t forget your posture, darling.” He taps my shoulders with the pointer stick he’s using. His eyes wander to my desk. “And where are your supplies?”

“Oh—um, the headmaster had me doing testing this morning, and I have not been permitted to return to my room to—” 

“Kitten.” His tone is even sharper now. “Look at Aoba’s desk, next to yours.”

I shut my mouth instantly and look over at the desk on my right. 

“Describe what you see, please.”

“H-he has h-his t-textbook open, p-pen at the r-ready, and n-notebook open. Sir.”

“Is it neat and tidy or messy?”

“P-perfectly n-neat, sir.”

“Correct. Now, describe your desk.” 

Swallowing my humiliation, I say timidly, “I-I o-only h-have th-the t-textbook, sir.” 

"Is it open to the correct page?”

“N-no, sir.” But how could it be? I just entered the room! I glance over at Aoba’s desk to see what page he is on, and the pointer Ryuuhou is holding comes crashing down against my desk, startling me and making all my fur stand on end. I hear several appreciative murmurs from the students behind me, probably watching with amusement at how much bigger my tail looks when bristled. 

“I didn’t say you could take your eyes off your desk, Konoe.”

“I-I’m s-sorry, sir.” Humiliated tears burn my eyes, which return to my desk. 

“How were you planning on taking notes in this class?” 

“Um, I-I d-don’t know, sir.” My voice lowers to a whisper.

“Well, perhaps you see yourself as something special since the headmaster thought it would be perfectly fine to interrupt my precious class time with your late arrival. And since you have nothing else with you, you may use the blackboard to take notes today.” 

My stomach turns unpleasantly in my stomach. 

“P-please, sir,” I beg, keeping my face lowered. 

“I could share my supplies with Konoe, sir,” suggests Aoba, and he hands me a pen. I have never been so grateful to see a writing utensil in my entire life. When I reach out to take it, however, that slim pointer stick comes down with a whack! Almost too fast for my eyes to see, the loud sound makes my ears twitch and my fur fluffs out in fear. And then sharp, stinging pain registers in my knuckles, right where I was struck. 

As if it’s been burned, I yank my hand back to my desk, a small yelp stuck in my throat. I can’t remember the last time another cat has actually hit me as a form of discipline, and tears brim in my eyes—humiliated tears, hurt tears, anxious tears, pained tears.

And I bring my gaze up to Ryuuhou once more, tears glistening on my eyelashes. 

“Sir?”

“I apologize, sir,” Aoba says, leaving the pen on the floor. 

“Pick it up, Konoe,” Ryuuhou growls. “Then use the blackboard for your notes. You can take sufficient notes for the entire class to copy, I assume?”

My whole body is trembling, and I rise from my seat on unsteady legs. I think I might be sick. I am wary of that pointer, so I walk behind my own chair, rather than passing in front of the instructor, for fear he may strike me again, and I crouch down to pick up the pen, and I lay it on Aoba’s desk. 

“Go on.” 

Hesitating for a moment, I dare to ask one more question. 

“Shall I b-bring the t-textbook w-with m-me?” 

“For gods’ sake, get your ass to the blackboard or so help me I’ll give you a whipping you won’t soon forget!” Ryuuhou snaps.

I scurry up to the blackboard without further delay and look around for a piece of chalk. I have never in my life written on a blackboard. I’ve used charcoal and pastels, but only on paper. I’ve never been to school—and this is not a good first experience, I have to admit. I feel sick when I look behind me at the sea of my fellow students looking back at me, so I turn back to face the blackboard, waiting for Ryuuhou to begin the lecture. 

“As I was saying, before our new little princess interrupted, about the history of the Void. Even now, we don’t know what caused it, but there are several competing theories.” 

Ryuuhou waits for a moment, and I write on the board:

What caused The Void? 

Theory 1:

And I wait. Ryuuhou seems satisfied, and so he continues.

“Of course, the first theory says the Void was caused by a scientific aberration in the atmosphere. Some believe there was a strange weather anomaly, which escalated, perhaps even from when Two Canes still walked our earth, and some random rain cloud caused the Void. The resulting cross-pollination of flowers made it spread, and that would explain its slow start and the ever increasing speed of its eventual rapid progression.”

I continue taking notes as he continues lecturing, writing down what I think is most important or interesting, trying my best to write neatly and not smear or squeak the chalk on the board. I don’t look behind me or over my shoulder, but it’s embarrassing to do this in front of an entire class of students that I don’t know. I’m sure I haven’t made the best first impression. 

But I find the topic interesting. 

The second theory of the Void was that it was caused by sorcery. It is thought that the Void was the result of a spell gone terribly wrong, or the result of a terrible spell cast purposely to destroy the world and start afresh. 

I find the very idea frightening, for what I know and remember of the Void, it rejected the presence of Ribika itself—so if it was on purpose, the sorcerer who cast the spell would have been rejected from the very world he or she created. Who would want to destroy everything—including themselves? How terribly wrong must their world have been, how much must they have suffered to do such a thing?

The last theory is that the Void was an act of Ribika, an act of the gods themselves. Each sect believes something different, but the general idea is that we as a people had grown too proud to acknowledge the gods, just as the Two Canes had. As we no longer relied on the gods, they saw fit to start a new world.

I don’t think I believe in vengeful gods. But even so—gods so upset that they would destroy their own creation? Creatures who once loved and worshipped them? They must have been terribly wounded to do such a thing. The very idea makes my chest hurt even thinking about it.

“Your assignment, which will be due on Monday, is an essay, in which I’d like you to discuss these theories behind the Void. You can either present the one you find most credible and why, the one you find least credible and why, or another topic involving these theories of your own choosing,” Ryuuhou says. “If you need help with an idea, please talk to me before or after class, or during office hours. Are there any questions? Noiz, what is it?”

“It was really helpful to have that little kitten taking notes today. I understood a lot more of what you were talking about since his notes make your talk much easier to understand. Can you make him do it again tomorrow?” The cat speaking is a tall, young blonde with short, spiky hair, a deep soft voice with a slight accent—he’s not from around here, that’s for certain. He has lime green eyes that almost glow.

My ears flush pink at the compliment. Did he like my notes? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so embarrassed.

“This was meant to serve as a punishment, Noiz. And I hope Konoe will be on his best behavior tomorrow. Although I’m sure he’d be happy to lend you his notes if you ask nicely.” Ryuuhou looks at me carefully. He looks less than pleased with me. “Any other questions? That will be all, then.”

I head back to my desk to pick up my textbook, while the other students file out of the class as quickly as possible. Ryuuhou grabs me by the ear before I can escape, making me yelp. My poor ear has seen more abuse today than in its entire life!

“Please—sir—I did as you asked—please!” I beg.

“Listen, kitten. Don’t be late to my class again, or you will regret it. Do you hear me? Don’t interrupt, don’t speak unless you’re asked a direct question. Do you understand?”

“I do, I do—I’m sorry, sir!”

“And if you forget your supplies again tomorrow, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“I won’t, sir, I promise!” His words make me shudder.

Cool dark blue eyes stare down into my own, and his touch finally lightens. While he doesn’t completely let go, he loosens it enough so he can brush the fur through his fingers with his other hand almost gently. His tender touch is even more unwelcome than the harsh pulling of my ear. 

“You are going to be quite a popular one. Now, off with you!”

Another nervous shiver courses through my body and I make a quick escape, and my arm is grabbed right when I step outside the door. I flinch and nearly scream with fright—but it’s only Aoba. 

“I’m sorry,” Aoba says, a sheepish look on his face. “I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I should have known. Ryuuhou definitely has a type, and you’re it.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “I’ve just never been to school before and didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t mean to get you involved. I really was trying to be friendly.” 

“Yeah, that can be hard here.” Aoba gives a wry laugh. “Come on, let’s go get changed for PE.”

“Hey, have you seen my friend Tokino around? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“I haven’t,” Aoba says. “But they kept me in the tower last night.” He looks down as he says this, glum and sad. I don’t want to press if he looks that miserable, so I don’t ask anything else. I just hope Tokino didn’t get himself in trouble. I shut my mouth and follow the blue-haired cat upstairs.

Chapter Text

Fortunately, my summer athletic clothing didn’t need alterations, so I have something to wear for our physical education class. Aoba is very chatty—almost as though he hasn’t been with other cats for many days and cheerfully tells me about the school, the teachers, and the other students.  

As I listen to Aoba chatter away, I’m not sure if I will have all that much contact with the other students. In fact, I’m not sure I’m supposed to attend PE class, but I get ready just the same if only to avoid another mishap like not having my school supplies in today’s history class. I would hate to be embarrassed again! 

Following Aoba’s fluffy blue tail downstairs, we head outside to the gardens. It’s lovely—the flowers are in full bloom, including cattails, which wave around temptingly in the soft warm breeze. In my village, cattails were considered dangerous, as their blooms can easily distract cats by tickling their instinct. Cats can’t help themselves and simply attack them, causing accidents and preventing real work from getting done. Karou's elder ordered all of them to be cut down, so I’m surprised to see these flowers here. I try my best to ignore them since Aoba says we are to line up for attendance.

The instructor isn’t here yet—Trip teaches this class—and neither is Tokino. While I ruminate about the kind of trouble he could have gotten himself into, my eyes catch one particular cattail blossom that seems to have it out for me. It wiggles temptingly in my direction, just out of reach. Once a Ribika’s instincts are tickled, there’s really nothing to be done—and I can’t help myself. I pounce, jumping out of my assigned place in line and catching it in my clawed hands. I’m successful in my hunt and pin the blossom to the ground. 

Unfortunately, Trip chooses to make his appearance right at the moment I’m in mid-air with my claws drawn. It’s embarrassing enough to have to do this in front of my classmates who don't seem at all affected by these tempting plants, but to be caught by my teacher—and the one who punished me earlier today—is even worse. My pupils, which were probably narrowed to slits in order to hunt this now hated cattail blossom, widen in shame and apprehension when I see Trip smirking down at me.

“What do you think you’re doing? Disrupting class? Drawing your claws without express permission is forbidden at this school. You should have learned your lesson earlier,” he growls, approaching my cowering body in three long strides.

He grabs my ear and pulls me to my feet, and my hand shoots up—my claws still drawn in order to loosen his painful grip, while I cry out. The only thing more sensitive on a cat than his ears is his tail, and my poor ear has seen more than its fair share of abuse today.

“Now you dare draw claws at an instructor? My gods, pretty kitty. You’re in for quite a public lesson today. On your knees!” 

I have to obey or he won’t release my ear. I’m quaking with fear, on my knees in the grass in front of the row of obedient students who knew to resist the call of those wild blossoms. I start to beg, trying to choke back tears. 

“Please—sir—the cattails—th-they t-tickled m-my instinct, and I-I c-couldn’t h-help m-myself—” my voice is shaking as much as my body, and I feel my ears burning. I don’t want to start yet another class with an embarrassing public reprimand.

“Pretty kitty, here at Applebaum’s, you will learn to control your instincts. It’s my job to help train you to control yourself. Hold out your hands, palms up.”

I obey, silently, my arms shaking. Keeping my face lowered to my hands, I raise my gaze for a moment to look at Trip. He has that cold, predatory look on his face again—as though he is anticipating something delicious. It sends a shiver down my back.

“Students who cannot keep their claws from extending will receive a physical reminder to do just that. You will receive five strokes, which I expect you to count. If you fail to count, lower your hands, or try to move them, I will start your punishment from the beginning.”

I try to steady my hands—but this is fucking ridiculous!

The whistling sound of a rattan cane makes my ears twitch forward. The cane connects with the palms of my hands with a loud, firm thwack! The noise is terrifying, but the pain that follows is excruciating. I’m surprised by the pain's intensity, too—it’s much worse than when Ryuuhou struck my knuckles an hour ago. This stroke creeps up into the pads of my fingertips and makes my knuckles feel swollen and heavy. Tears flood my vision reflexively.

“Konoe!” Trip’s loud voice interrupts my loud sob. “I told you to count!”

Thwack!

“Ah! Two!” I yelp, trying to keep my hands steady.

“I don’t think so, pretty kitty,” Trip lifts my chin with the tip of the cane, taking a good look at my already tear-stained face. “You didn’t follow my instructions, so we are starting over.” His words make my heart sink. 

Thwack!

“One!” I sob desperately, locking my elbows in place. 

“One what?” Trip purrs, smiling down at me. He is enjoying himself, enjoying inflicting suffering on me, enjoying my humiliation.

Thwack!

“One, sir?” I ask tentatively, tears dripping down my face.

Thwack!

“Ah—two, sir,” I manage, raising up my arms after lowering them slightly. Trip looks like he is considering starting over. “Please, sir.”

Thwack—thwack!

“Mmm—three and four, sir!” I cry, the pain oozing into my claws and up my wrists, nearly to my elbows.

Thwack!

“Ah—five, sir! Thank you, sir!” I burst into tears, sobbing. My palms are bloodied and welted, and I cannot close my hands into fists. My claws extend half-way on their own now—and I’m unable to extend or withdraw them. I want to lick my palms to soothe the pain, but I have not been given permission to move.

“Very good, pretty kitty. Unfortunately, you’ll have to report to Virus. Aoba, please take him to the headmaster.”

“Yes, sir.” Aoba comes over to me and helps me stand by pulling me up by my shoulder. He tries to shush me, but my hands and fingers are simply throbbing. And for what? Because I was playing with the cattails?

He doesn’t speak until we arrive at the headmaster’s office. Before he knocks, he whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Come,” Virus calls from within. I follow Aoba inside, my ears and tail drooping. “Well, now. If it isn’t our star student! Causing problems for Trip as well? Aoba, you may return to class.”

Aoba casts an anxious glance in my direction and then leaves, closing the door behind him. 

“I warned you the training would be rigorous. So far you have not shown me your willingness to work toward our goal.” 

“I-it was a s-silly m-mistake,” I murmur. “M-my instincts w-were t-tickled b-by the c-cattail and I—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Konoe. Drawing claws and baring fangs are acts of aggression. They are unseemly. They will not be tolerated at this institution. Do you understand?” That word again: unseemly. I'm beginning to hate that word with a passion.

“Y-yes, s-sir,” I stammer. My fingers and claws are throbbing with every beat of my heart. 

“Now, you have your physical reminder, but I think I’d best do something to protect my charges from you, should this physical reminder fail to serve its purpose.”

“Sir?” My stomach drops to my feet—he is speaking without any change to his polite tone, and my ears perk up. I become terribly anxious and I watch what he is doing carefully. He has opened a desk drawer and is searching for something. He pulls out a pair of clippers. 

“‘I’d best clip your claws to be sure you don’t accidentally hurt a fellow student here. Don’t you agree?”

“Sir?” Clip my claws? Simply trim them? I’ve never done that—but won’t that leave me defenseless? It makes me nervous, but it shouldn't hurt, should it? 

“Come here, please.” 

I obey, thinking things will only get worse if I don’t comply, so I walk around the desk to his side. He rolls his chair out from under the desk and pulls me into his lap. It’s terribly intimate to sit in another cat’s lap. I absolutely hate it! I can hear his breath purposely huffing in my ear.

“You smell nice, kitten. Give me your hand.” His voice purrs directly into my ear, and I lift up my shoulder defensively but try not to squirm. He takes my right hand in both of his, examining the welts. I wince as he runs his fingers across them.

“How lovely. Does it hurt?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I whimper quietly. 

Then he pushes against the palm of my hand, right against the worst of the welts, making me scream in pain as my claws extend. The blood currently pooled in my hand excites all the nerves and makes them go wild. 

Once my claws are extended, he begins clipping my nails—starting with my pinky. He clips them as close to the nail bed as he can get, occasionally nipping skin as well—and it hurts. My palm is burning, my fingers sting, and each claw throbs unbearably as he clips it, leaving the broken nail clippings on his desk. My face is covered with fresh tears by the time he gets to my thumb.

“Now, let me see your other hand.”

“Please—sir, I won’t ever disobey again! I won’t let my instincts get the best of me—I promise, sir! Please—I will do better!” I whimper desperately, pleading with everything I have. 

“I’m sure you will, my promising little kitten. Now, give me your left hand.”

And so, I have to obey, and I scream in pain, shuddering each time he clips a claw. My welted hands are a disaster, and my claws barely extend when he is finished. I’m crying exhausted, bitter tears when he finishes my thumb.

“There we go. A hard lesson, but one you won’t soon forget. Now, let’s dress those hands to prevent infection.”

Keeping me on his lap, crying softly, I watch as he digs a small first aid kit out of the top left drawer of his desk. He pours a little disinfectant on a cloth and dabs it against my right palm—the burning reaches all the way to my elbow—and I scream in agony.

“Hush now, kitten. This is for your own good.” Virus seems to be enjoying himself—he dabs the cloth several times more than necessary and then winds a gauze bandage around my palm. I cringe, knowing my left hand is next.

It burns just as much—and again, all the way up my elbow—and I scream again. I’m relieved when I see that gauze winding around my hand, covering up those welts.

“Now keep these wounds clean. Remember, just because you are already injured will not save you from further discipline if you require it, Konoe. Make sure you pay attention. Don’t do anything unseemly.”

“Yes, sir,” I sniff quietly.

“Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

I think for a moment, trying to figure out what he wants to hear.

“Oh—yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” A wave of nausea sweeps over me when I hear the words slip out of my mouth. But I will do whatever I have to do to get out of this office.

“Of course, it’s my pleasure to train you. We will make a success out of you yet. Now hurry on back to class.”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me, sir.”

I get up from his lap and make my escape, drying my tears and trying to calm myself as I go.

Chapter Text

Badminton. They are playing a game involving racquets when I return from Virus’ office, my hands bandaged. Trip smiles slyly at me.

“Welcome back, pretty kitty. Pick up a racquet, and wait for your turn. Do you know the rules?”

“Um, I’ve never played.” I’ve heard of the game, of course, but we didn’t have access to this sort of leisure activity in the village I grew up. I spent the majority of my day protecting and defending my territory, hunting for food and medicinal herbs, and trying not to starve. I don’t say all that, though.

Trip explains the rules and hands me a racquet. He watches with absolute delight when I cannot even hold the racquet in my injured hands. I can’t make a fist, and my nails are killing me, too—each finger throbbing in its own right. I try holding it in my left hand with the same problem.

“You’d best figure out how you will be participating, or you will be punished for your unwillingness to participate.”

“I’m sorry?” My body prickles with fear at the sound of absolute desire in his voice.

“Should I just send you back to Virus now? He will be most disappointed in you.” 

“Please—I will work it out!” I insist, but Trip nearly laughs out loud. Having pressure applied to my already hopeless situation makes me even more flustered, and I am near panic by the time my name is called to switch out with the next switch of opponents. 

I try holding the racquet in both hands and keep dropping it, plus I can’t swing it. My opponent is Noiz—the tall, blonde student who complimented my note-taking in history, and he is trying to hit it to me easily, I realize—especially when he sees how scared I am.

“Sorry—I’ve never played—and um, I can’t seem to—”

“Let me help,” Noiz says. He walks up to the net. “Come here for a minute.”

I am relieved for his assistance—he seems like such a nice young cat. 

“Are you right- or left-handed?”

“Right,” I say.

“Okay, take a deep breath in,” Noiz says, and when I do, he forces my right hand closed around the handle of the racquet firmly, making me scream. Pain shoots up my arm into my elbow and down into my fingers, and my fingers hurt when my claws extend in reflex. “Hush, it will only last a moment.”

He holds my hand in place for a few moments, while I am screaming and trying to pull away, but weirdly, my hand starts to hold the racquet. He even wiggles it a little—which hurts like a son of a bitch—to make sure I’ve got a firm grip. I feel like I might be sick.

“Sorry about that, kitty, but you don’t want to go back to the headmaster’s office during the same lesson. Trust me. That’s what Trip told you he’d do, right? You won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“What?” I am struggling with trying to get my tears under control, but that information scares the shit out of me.

“Yeah, it would be much worse for you than this. Believe me, I’ve seen it. You have got to get yourself out from under their radar. Now, play—I’ll hit the shuttlecock to you directly. You just tap it lightly to get it back over the net. Underhand is easiest for beginners. Got it?”

I don’t know whether he has helped me or hurt me—but I have a feeling he meant this as help. I look up at his lime green eyes, and he stares right back at me and smirks. I take a slightly shaky breath. 

“Um, thank you.”

“Sure. I think you’re going to be a fun little addition around here,” he grins mischievously and walks back to his place. “Ready?”

I manage to return a few serves back to him, but each time I hit the shuttle with my racquet, a shooting pain rushes through my hand and up my elbow. It’s excruciating! I try to quiet my voice and manage silent wincing instead. I play the rest of the period without further incident, and Trip looks mildly disappointed.

“All right. Inside and hit the showers. You know the drill. Show the new kitten where to go and what to do.” 

Tokino is still nowhere to be found. I look everywhere—and he isn’t in this class. What has happened to him?

I follow Aoba to the showers, keeping my head down, really not at all excited about showering with a bunch of cats I don’t know. 

“Just throw your clothes in the laundry there. We usually just wear towels back to our room, though you can get a robe if you want,” Aoba says, watching me rather closely, as I grab my basin from the cubby in the first part of the bathroom. “We have free time after this, so take as long as you want.” 

“All right.”

“I’ve found if you always use that conditioner on your fur and hair, it gets really soft and shiny—and much easier to manage,” he continues. I notice he is also following me really closely—and I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to protect me from something or because he is interested. Are his social skills just awkward—or is it my imagination?

He strips his shirt off overhead and tosses it in the laundry. When I take mine off, I notice small initials, KK, embroidered on the inside collar of my shirt. Is this so it’s easier to find my items? Konoe of Karou, possibly? But not anymore. I fluff up my tail when I strip off my pants and keep myself modestly hidden while walking into a shower stall—I take the closest one so I don’t have to parade down the aisle, but that’s a mistake. It seems everyone can simply peer into my stall as they walk by—and many of the cats do, some spending more time than others, including, much to my annoyance, Tomoyuki. 

He leans up against the side of my shower stall and peers in at me when I’m washing my hair, and I don’t notice him at first. I’m about to rinse when I notice that orange hair—and I fluff out my soaked fur in surprise.

“Ah, looks like your day only got worse from this morning. Learn your lesson yet, kitten?”

I don’t reply at first, but I think better of ignoring him. I turn my back and look over my shoulder. 

“Yes, sir.”

He seems shocked by my timid response. 

“Well, they must have got you good, then. Glad I could be of assistance.” 

I try to use the conditioner, but it’s hard to get it out of the bottle with my hands bandaged and damaged. Tomoyuki just watches me my struggle with a certain gleam in his eye.

“Don’t be a dick, Tommy,” a deep flat voice says behind him. 

Noiz walks up behind the prefect and pushes him aside. He takes the conditioner from my hand and pours some in my hair, and then combs it through with his fingers. He’s actually standing naked in the shower—with me. It makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I flatten myself into the corner, but he doesn’t mind what I’m doing.

He also—to my utter embarrassment—runs the conditioner through my tail, which makes me shiver and shudder.

“Oh, you’re a sensitive little kitty, aren’t you? Could be fun.” He smiles softly, and his voice is teasing. Aoba peeks his head around the shower stall and barks at Noiz.

“What are you doing? Noiz! Get out of there! Can’t you see he doesn’t like it?!”

“What—are you jealous?” 

“N-no—”

“You know I’m not like that. I’ll do yours next. He just can’t use his hands, you see. We have to make him feel at home here, especially now his friend has gotten himself in trouble. He will be better in a day or two, I’m sure. Virus clipped his claws awful short, and the welts are too fresh to use.”

“My friend? You know what happened to Tokino?” I ask, my voice desperate.

“Yep. But you’ll have to figure out what to do for me if you want me to tell you.” Noiz smiles, showing me both rows of his teeth and large fangs.

“Do for you?” I echo.

“Yep. As in exchange. I’ll tell you all about it. Maybe… in exchange for a little kiss,” he whispers that last part into my ear.

“Noiz! Stop it! He will think you’re being serious!” Aoba says, obviously agitated.

“I am being totally serious. I don’t give away my services for free, you see.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” I sputter.

“No—and I just wanted to touch you, so don’t worry about the conditioner,” Noiz winks. “Enjoy the rest of your shower. And come see me if you want information on your little friend.”

I finish up my shower, turning back toward the shower head, facing the wall, rinsing the conditioner from my hair and fur, then drying myself off, ignoring any stares. I walk back to my room, wrapped in a towel, after combing out my hair and fur, dressing myself in my clothes.

Aoba helps me with my hair and fur—brushing through my hair and fur, styling it in a braid and smiling softly at my reflection at the mirror. 

“You look nice, Konoe,” Aoba says. “Let’s go down to tea.” He hands me my hat, and I follow him out the door.

I follow him downstairs to the garden, where afternoon tea is set up in small groups of four. I sit next to Aoba, where we are joined by Noiz and his roommate, an albino cat with pink eyes, Clear. He’s a quiet, polite boy, who keeps his eyes glued on Aoba, who has his eyes on Noiz.

I look around for Tokino, and he still isn’t here. I sigh quietly, sipping my tea. 

“Oh, look—mail call!” Clear says, excitedly.

“Wow—what is that?” Aoba asks, amazed. I look up, and Trip is standing with a bundle of mail in his hand and a gigantic bouquet of flowers in the other.

“Konoe!” Trip says sharply. I flinch at the sound of my name, and my teacup rattles against the saucer slightly. Shit! What have I done now? I look up nervously. “Apparently, you pleased your guest this morning.”

“Sir?” My voice quivers nervously. I’m confused.

“Those are for you, Konoe!” Aoba says, excited. “Wait—you entertained the silver-haired cat this morning? He was hot!!”

“He was fine!” Noiz agrees. “Is that why you’re not giving me the time of day?” 

Trip walks up and hands me the bouquet. It’s beautiful—and big—mostly pink flowers with some white and some others, and it includes a note. I don’t look at the note right away. Instead, I bury my nose in the flowers. They smell wonderful, especially the exotic, white and pink lilies and the tuberoses, which remind me of jasmine. There are roses mixed in—large pink roses in different shades, each as big as my fist—and they are so beautiful they look unreal. I’ve never seen such gorgeous flowers in my life.

“This makes me think you did something to the silver cat you haven’t told me about,” Trip murmurs quietly into my ear. “I’m sure Virus will be interested in this development.” His words make me flatten my ears against my head, and I shrink away from the larger cat.

When he leaves, I pull the card out of the bouquet and open the envelope. Inside is a beautiful note, embossed with the single initial, R. I open the folded, heavy cardstock. The handwriting is a beautiful script, and it reads:  

For the kitten with the beautiful pink ears,

Study hard, Konoe.

Yours,

Rai

“Yours?” asks Noiz, over my shoulder. “What did you do to him to make him ‘yours’? I saw that gigantic beast of a cat—and there’s no way you could make him ‘yours’ in that short of a time! What the hell did you let him do to you?”

My jaw drops in horror. I didn’t let him do anything to me—except, well, lick my ear, and I didn’t exactly “let” him do that. He just did it on his own! I’m insulted!

“You certainly move fast,” Aoba murmurs, “but he’s the right choice, for sure! He’s been coming here a long time, I hear, and he’s never sent anyone flowers before!”

“You did well,” Clear muses. “You’re very sweet. He probably really likes you.” Clear has a friendly smile on his face.

“Um, I should put these in my room,” I say, embarrassed by all the attention. I need to escape, and I don’t know how else to get out of this situation. The vase nearly slips out of my hands, however, when I try to lift it, and Noiz catches it.

“Whoa, let me get that for you!” Noiz carries it for me.

“N-no, it’s all right! I-I will manage,” I insist.

“Oh?” Noiz asks. “It’s no bother.” 

“N-no, let me—”

“I’ve got it,” Noiz is already making his way up the stairs. He knows which room is mine, of course, and walks ahead. I wanted some time alone and now I’m stuck with him.

I follow him with a sigh.

“Do you know what happened to Tokino?” I ask on our way.

“I told you I did. But what will you do for me in return?” Noiz asks casually.

“You already asked me that. I don’t understand what you want! I mean—what do you want from me? I have nothing to give you!”

“I might settle for whatever you did for the silver cat,” Noiz says. 

“I did nothing for him! I was taking an exam when he came in!”

“He didn’t touch you?”

“Well, I didn’t let him touch me, nor did I encourage it,” I say, slightly flustered.

“Ho? So he did touch you?”

“Well, he licked my ear as he was leaving, and he kissed the back of my hand when he first arrived. Is that what you want? My hands are pretty fucked up.”

“Really? That’s it?” Noiz sounds disappointed.

“Yeah. He just talked to me.”

“What about?”

“Nothing! About where I’m from, that I’m new here—really, nothing. I didn’t do anything!”

“So—you didn’t like him?”

I stop for a moment. Noiz has walked to my door and pushed it open, and he walks inside, but he turns around to look at me when he asks me about Rai.

“I, um, I didn’t say that.”

“I see. So you do like him.”

“He was kind to me,” I say softly.

“Kind?” Noiz says, unbelieving. “The silver monster was kind?”

Monster? Who is he even talking about? I feel slightly defensive. 

“He was not a monster! He was kind-hearted and gentle, and he treated me with a tenderness I haven’t seen in a very long time!” I insist.

“Where would you like these flowers, pink-eared kitty?”

“My desk, please. That note was not meant for you.”

“No, but I saw your ears blush in class today—several times. It’s quite fetching. Did you blush for him, too?”

“I don’t blush on purpose!” I snap.

“But don’t you? Look at all the attention you’ve received. Isn’t this your goal? I don’t know how you could aim higher, frankly—the pickiest client? On your first day? What are you trying to do? Undermine us all?”

“Of course not! I would never—”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Noiz finally sets my flowers down at my desk. He suddenly grabs my arm and drags me over to the desk and pushes me into the chair, forcing me into it, looking into the mirror through the flowers at my reflection. “Tell me, wouldn’t you rather see him standing behind you than me?”

“Well, yes—because he would never handle me so roughly.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“I know it; I don’t just believe it.”

“Hou, you’re so certain based on that single interaction. So why do you think he came here?”

“I... I do not know. Perhaps he was looking for someone to fulfill his apprenticeship position?”

Noiz laughs out loud, and I find it annoying. How could he laugh so brazenly at my expense? “In some way, you could call what he is offering an apprenticeship. Certainly, he will train you. Train you for what services I wonder?”

“Well, what does he do?”

“He is a professional swordsman—a bounty hunter.”

“A bounty hunter?” A slight sense of fear crawls up my neck, making my skin shiver. That fits, but it frightens me.

“Oh, yes.”

“He is training others to be bounty hunters like him?”

“No. What do you think happens when a bounty hunter travels alone for a long trip—say several months at a time from home?”

“What do you mean?”

“He might get lonely. The mating season may come and go, and he'd be alone! Hence he is looking for a companion to fend off those cold nights.”

I don’t say anything. I wonder—companionship or like, for sex? Perhaps for both? For assistance as well? I don’t really care! I’d go. I remember how my body felt around him, and I didn’t dislike it at all. I enjoyed his attention and his touch quite a bit. It hurt when he left. I would put up with a lot to be able to spend it with him, even if I was afraid.

“Kitten, you can’t have made up your mind after just one guest—especially not the one guest who will surely eat you alive!”

“But... he wasn’t like that,” I insist—but my words fall on deaf ears. I’m not sure I even believe them. The proof is in these flowers, isn’t it?

“A tiny cat like you would be much more suited to the inn, I think. The kind old man at the inn—he will adore you. You will only have to serve the clientele, do some light cleaning, see the customers to their rooms, and probably see to the old man's desires as well. That should be easy enough, right?”

That sounds boring—and I really don’t want an old man. I want Rai—the young, beautiful one who sent me flowers that matched my ears.

“Why are you discouraging me? Did he approach you, too?” I try to keep the jealousy from my voice. It’s Rai's prerogative to see as many cats as he likes. I have no say in the matter. I'd be lucky to catch his attention. I know that.

“Just—I don’t want one as sweet as you to get your hopes up, kitten,” Noiz growls.

“I have been disappointed plenty of times, even in my short life, don’t worry.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Noiz says, “Still, I’m concerned.”

“Because you want him? How many other times has he approached another student? Sent them flowers?”

“Shut up,” Noiz threatens. “You know damn well you’re the first. And now, you’ll be receiving extra ‘training,’ courtesy of the headmaster himself, I’m sure, so you will be prepared to thank him yourself, the next time you see the silver cat makes an appearance.”

“What kind of training?” I ask, now nervous. I don’t want to have anything to do with Virus—not after what he did to my hands today. He hurtme!

“Come on, you can’t be as naive as you look!” Noiz blurts. “We’d best get you back downstairs—since he will be looking for you soon.”

“N-no—I don’t want to go!” I protest, digging my heels in. “I-I’m not feeling well. I should stay here...” 

“They don’t care if you’ve got a fever or are vomiting. If they think it’s time to train you, you will be trained. I can’t stop you, though, if you really want to find out the hard way! Trust me—I did, despite the warnings. Do what you want.”

Noiz turns and leaves me alone in my room—leaving me alone with something like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Surely, he must have it wrong—Rai was kind to me. And these flowers are beautiful. No one has ever made me such a frivolous gift before. They won’t last long—they are just for me to enjoy for a week or so before they wilt and return to the earth from which they came. However, during that week, I will enjoy their scent, reminded of his soft hair each time I bury my nose in them. They are so very lovely. 

The first flowers I’ve ever been given came from the elegant silver cat. What I wouldn’t give to feel his lips press against mine, too, and his hands on my body... my mind starts to wander, shockingly, to a place it has never traveled before. It doesn’t matter that he is male and so much bigger or overpowering. Perhaps that is why I find him so enticing—that fact that he could do whatever he wanted to me, and he didn’t—unlike what has happened here so far.

I hear a commotion in the garden downstairs. It’s Virus, making a fuss. He appears to be searching for someone. I stand up from my desk, pulling myself away from the bouquet and walk toward the window, but I don’t move the lace curtains, remaining hidden in my room. Is he calling me? Angrily?

Shit.

What should I do? I should go downstairs and see what he wants. My feet start moving, but I am anxious. But wouldn’t it be worse if he found me here?  My body starts trembling uncontrollably, confused, not knowing what to do. I will be punished if I go downstairs and it will be worse if I let him find me here.

Noiz does not say anything about where I am, thankfully. I shudder from the inside of my bones—it’s revulsion, plain and simple—but I can’t avoid this.

I leave my room and walk downstairs with my heart beating in my mouth, a nauseated feeling hanging in my stomach, my teeth chattering.

Chapter Text

“Where were you?” Virus corners me the moment I appear at the landing of the staircase. He’s inside the mansion, apparently looking for me. I have a horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach.

“I just put the flowers in my room,” I reply quietly. For a moment, I consider running back upstairs and closing myself in my room. What kind of doorknobs are on the doors? Handles or knobs? Would I be able to brace it shut by putting a chair underneath? My mind is too slow to think. “Don’t we have free time now until dinner?”

“The other students do,” Virus corrects me. “You have accelerated lessons. Follow me to my office.”

I watch him walk down the hallway and I don’t want to follow him. I do not want to go back to his office so soon! He just hurt me in there! How do I know he won’t do it again? 

“Konoe!” Virus snaps impatiently over his shoulder, making my feet respond. They scurry down the stairs quickly, making my decision for me. Surely, disobeying him would be far worse! I walk into his office making as little noise as I can, hoping that what? He will forget I’m here?

Ridiculous!

“Close the door behind you, kitten,” he says easily, opening up one of the desk drawers. “You’ve had a shower and your bandages are a mess.” He pulls out fresh gauze, scissors, cotton, and disinfectant, and my body starts to sweat. 

“I-I used s-soap,” I stammer. “I-I’m sure my wounds are c-clean. I-I o-only n-need f-fresh b-bandages, and I-i c-can d-do that—” 

“Hush, kitten,” Virus purrs almost tenderly. “As headmaster, I see to the physical well-being of each and every of my students. Come sit.”

“R-really! I-I d-don’t w-wish to w-waste y-your t-time,” my mouth is dry, and I lick my lips desperately. 

“Haven’t you earned yourself enough discipline for today? Obey me, and come sit on my lap. Let me care for you.” 

More than reluctantly, I drag my feet to his side of the desk, but I do not sit down. Tears burn my eyes when I look at that bottle of disinfectant. It’s going to sting, and even I know there is no need to use it so soon! 

“Please,” I beg. “Don’t do this!”

“Konoe, kitten. Are you really going to get into a contest of wills over wound care with me?” Virus peers through his glasses at me, his eyes an odd, creepy clear blue—unearthly. “This is for the sake of your health.”

“I just—”

“Sit,” he says firmly, patting his knee and leaning toward me.  

I don’t have a choice but to obey. I sit as far out on his knee as I can, but he pulls me in close against his chest, intimately, and begins unwinding the gauze from my hands. 

“You did a nice job keeping your hands clean. We don’t want them to become infected, Konoe. You are an important asset. I knew you’d made a good impression on the silver cat, but I didn’t know how good. I’d like you to be ready for our next social function.” 

I cringe when I hear the disinfectant swish around in the glass bottle onto the cotton. Virus continues.

“I told you training would be rigorous.”

He presses the cotton against the palm of my right hand when he says, “rigorous.” I yelp, trying not to snatch my hand away. It burns, and he is taking his time, watching my face rather than what he is doing.

“I’d like to avoid marking up your body visibly until then, so I will be employing different discipline techniques—on parts of your body that won’t show.”

He presses more disinfectant into my left palm, and I gasp in pain, biting my cheek to keep quiet. Only then does it occur to me what he has said. He didn’t say he wouldn’t discipline me—he said he’d do it where it wouldn’t be visible. Does he mean under my clothes? I am utterly horrified, and I can’t believe my ears.

“Between now and the next social gathering is only two weeks. You will have to learn manners, social graces, current events, and to dance by then. I’m sure it will be most disappointing to the silver cat if you aren’t there. Your free time will be occupied up by additional lessons. And, I suppose you realize you will need to thank Rai for his generosity, for sending you the flowers.” 

I shudder slightly—not because there’s anything distasteful about thanking the silver cat, but because of Virus’ tone. He sounds creepy. 

“Thank him how?” I ask.

“However he would like. First, of course, you will write him a note. Then, at the next social, you will isolate him—in a room or in the garden—just the two of you alone with nothing but privacy—and you will suggest you would like to thank him by letting him do whatever he likes to you.”

A cold sensation creeps up my spine, starting at the base of my tail, making my body shiver.

“Wouldn’t that be unseemly?” 

“No. He is expecting it. He will probably want you on your knees—which will be painful for you, but not nearly as painful for you as if he fucks you.”

What? What are we talking about? Isn’t this about thanking him for sending me flowers? Why am I suddenly being treated like a prostitute? I suddenly feel physically ill. 

“Sir—please—I need to excuse myself—please—” 

“Hush, kitten. I’m trying to explain how this will work. If I find out you haven’t managed to isolate the silver cat as I’ve suggested—no, as I’ve commanded—there will be hell to pay.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise, please! Sir! I’m going to be sick! I don’t want to do it in your office!”

“Get a hold of yourself, Konoe. This is your life now. Learn to deal with it, and for gods’ sake, pay attention!”

“But I’m going to be ill!”

I get up from Virus’ lap suddenly, and he growls at me.

“Sit your ass back down!” he hisses fiercely. “We are only just getting started!” 

I put my hand over my mouth and start gagging. I wasn’t joking about being sick. 

“Kitten, if you dare throw up in this office, you will regret it,” he growls low. 

But vomit isn’t something you can stop, once it starts. I start coughing and gagging—I hate him talking about the silver cat in such a vulgar way. I end up throwing up on the floor all over the carpet, falling to the ground on all fours, because I don’t make it out of the door. He’s grabbed my tail and yanked me back inside.

“My gods—you’re such an innocent that you can’t even discuss the act without sicking up? Pathetic!” Virus is disgusted. “I’ll need to find a faster way to teach you that what we do here is much more gentlemanly than what you could be doing, and we’d best desensitize you fast. How are we going to fix this? You are a mess!”

Virus calls for help for cleanup. 

“You are much more relaxed now, though, aren’t you?” He looks at me thoughtfully. “That’s something to keep in mind, I suppose. Go upstairs, freshen up, and brush your teeth. Then, you will be punished for your disobedience. We still have to write that thank-you note as well.”

Punished? Because I threw up? I feel utter despair. 

“Don’t give me that look or I’ll double your punishment! Go, now! You have five minutes.”

Tears leak from my eyes as I rush upstairs. I find my toothbrush and brush my teeth, get a drink of water and rinse out my mouth. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t know what look he was talking about—the one that would double my punishment. What did he mean? I’m really scared to return to his office, so I also wash my face—using a towel so my hands don’t get wet.

I hurry back downstairs, though, trying to make it within the five minutes he has given me. I’m disappointed to find Virus standing in the doorway of his office, carrying something in his hand. I don’t have a chance to see what it is since he grabs my arm.

“Let’s make the most of this, shall we?”

He pulls me outside into the garden, where the rest of the students are still drinking tea. 

“Dear students, I’m afraid our newest student has disobeyed me, yet again, on his first day here. He is not getting the message that we mean business here at Applebaum’s, so he is about to experience the most effective punishment we have. Because I’m your headmaster and I care about your education, I will use this is a learning opportunity for all of you, so I will have you witness it, as humiliating as it may be for him.”

I feel sick to my stomach again—even though I just threw up and it’s what got me in trouble, to begin with. My body starts to shake and rebel, as much as I try to cooperate.

“Please, sir—I couldn’t help it,” I mumble, loud enough so only Virus will hear.

“You disobeyed, and now you are showing no remorse,” Virus says, glaring at me. He drags me up in front of the students, to the table where most of the tea service has just been cleared. “You will do exactly as I tell you, or I will add a penalty.”

My stomach roils uncomfortably—and loudly—and I am pushed up against the table.

“Grab onto the far edge of the table, please,” Virus says.

I comply, bending over the table as he requested, and my feet nearly lift off the grass. My ears fill with blood—this is humiliating and confusing—being displayed in such a way.

“I heard you are pretty shy about your body, kitten,” Virus says, quietly. He is fiddling with my belt—clink, clink—and unbuckles it.

“Please! Sir! Wait!” I let go of the table to stop him, but he smacks my ass—hard—over the seat of my trousers, which are stretched across my behind. I give a small yelp.

“Remain in position until I say you can move.” I hear the sound of my zipper and the pop of the top button of my trousers, and tears of shame and fear overflow from my eyes. 

“Please—Virus—Please!” I know what he is going to do before he does it—and he works my pants and underwear off my hips, pulling them down to my knees, much to my shame, exposing my bare backside to the entire student body, currently enjoying their tea on this lovely summer afternoon.

“Shut your mouth until I do something to you that warrants tears!” Virus snaps. I feel a surprisingly cool breeze against my hot skin, and my tail flaps around, obviously expressing my shame. I dig into the edge of the table with the tiny nubs left from my claws, and it’s painful. This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to endure in my entire life—and all because I got sick?

“This is what we do to disobedient kittens at Applebaum’s. Konoe has had plenty of opportunities today to demonstrate his obedience and submission to our rules. And yes. He may be one of our most promising students. However, that does not give him free rein to do as he likes. Take note, my dears, and let this image be burned into your mind the next time you think of disobeying an order. Half a dozen lashes, assuming he maintains his position.”

I can hear several students talking among themselves. 

“What did he do?”

“I knew that students were paddled in his office, but I’ve been here three years and have never seen one humiliated publicly!” 

“He really must have got on the headmaster’s bad side!”

“But how? I mean—you saw him in history, didn’t you? He’s as meek as mouse!”

“I wonder if the headmaster just wants to put him in his place.” 

“I heard he got his mouth washed out with soap thanks to the prefect this morning, and the prefect was cursing just as much as he was!”

“Poor kitten’s hands are ruined from that caning Trip gave him in PE...”

“Think they trimmed his nails, too?” 

I want to plug my ears and I can’t. If I do, I will let go of the table and no longer be “in position.” I do not want to hear any of this talk! 

Suddenly, something smooth and cool is pressed against my exposed skin. I gasp loudly at the strange sensation—it’s an odd, almost sensual feeling, really—but embarrassing and humiliating. Is it leather? Oh, gods—a leather strap?! Shit! A small protesting whine leaks from my lips and words tumble from my mouth in a frantic stream.

“Oh please oh please oh please—Virus—please you don’t have to do this—please don’t—I will behave—I didn’t mean to be sick I couldn’t help myself I don’t know what happened and I will never do it again I promise please—!” 

“I’m sure you won’t, kitten,” Virus says, as he steps away from my body. I grasp onto the edge of the table, painfully digging what is left of my claws even deeper, through the tablecloth and into the wood, and I swallow my last, frenzied plight. He wants to punish me, and he wants to do it publicly. Was my sin really so grave an offense, or is he trying to train me for something?

I lower my face to the table, looking straight down, and my tears soak the tablecloth below. I hear the crack of the strap in the air, and it makes my ears flick back toward the sound, and I would do anything to escape this situation right now. Faster than I think possible, and with a rich, satisfying popping sound, the leather strap connects right in the center of my bare bottom. It sends a sharp, stinging burn through my hips and jolts my body toward the far edge of the table. I yelp in response to the pain, and I hear several students wince on my behalf.

“Count,” Virus says to me. “Count out loud, and thank me for the training.” 

“O-one, thank you, sir,” I murmur through my tears. I hear the crack of the strap flying through the air even before I’ve finished thanking him. 

“Ah! Two—th-thank you, sir,” I mutter into the table, tears streaming freely down my face. I try to keep my ass relaxed—I think flexing will only make it hurt worse, so I try to submit—submit to the punishment for vomiting—even though I gave him a warning. 

The strap cracks again, and smack! The rich sound of leather meeting skin fills my ears before the pain really registers, but my ass is already on fire. This lash hits on the fleshiest part of my behind, and I can feel it jiggle. 

“Mmm—three—thank you, sir,” I cry softly. Half-way through, I think, I can do this, I will get through this!

Smack! This blow connects right where my ass and thighs connect—and it burns and sends a strange tingling sensation through my hips and groin, making the fur on my tail bristle. It hurts a lot more than the first three, and I scream in pain and have to catch my breath.

“Ahh! F-four, thank you, s-sir,” I wail.

Smack! Virus brings the strap down against my unprotected thighs, slightly below where he landed the last blow. It sounds slightly different—not as rich of a sound, since there is more muscle in my legs and not as much fat to absorb the blow. I kick up my feet, wheezing in pain, and one of my hands releases the edges of the table to cover myself. 

“Please! Ow! Please, sir! Five—uh—thank you, sir!” I beg desperately. 

“Resume the position, Konoe,” Virus says firmly, waiting for me to move my hand. “I’d hate the damage that pretty little hand of yours. And get that ridiculous tail under control.”

I try in vain to prevent my tail from swaying wantonly, but it’s a hopeless task. The minute I bring my hand back into position but before I have it fully in place, the strap comes down again, right on my sit spot—and it burns so much I think I might actually wet myself. My thighs clench, my muscles flex, and I scream.

“Ah! Six—thank you, sir!” Ignoring my embarrassment, I cry openly, stand up, and start rubbing my bottom tentatively, trying to disperse some of the pain—but I hear Virus clear his throat. 

“Kitten. Didn’t you hear me when I said you were not to move from that position till I released you?”

My hands stop, freezing in place, and I turn my tear-stained face toward Virus, staring at him in disbelief. A sea of faces—students I don’t know—are watching our interaction or at least getting a full view of my naked and punished behind. 

“Did you?” he repeats the question, threateningly.

“Yes, sir.” My voice is very, very quiet. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“Resume the position for your penalty.” 

“Please, sir—I don’t think I—” I am frantic now, unable to control myself. I really can’t take anymore!

“If I wanted to know what you thought, I’d have asked. But I don’t, so I didn’t. You are still disobeying me after a lashing like that? Resume the position or suffer the consequences.” 

A last-ditch, utterly hopeless wail escapes my mouth, and I turn my body around, forcing it back into position, and I grab the edge of the table. I flinch, lowering my ears fearfully when his hand touches my ass—I can feel raised welts there already. 

“You don’t have to count these. But don’t you dare move.” His voice is quiet and sounds sexy—almost as though he is aroused. I’m horrified and scared. 

“Yes, sir,” I reply tearfully, my voice shaking in fear. “Th-Thank you, sir?” 

Smack—smack—smack—smack!

I’m shocked by the rapid succession of lashes that rain down on my body. My legs kick up helplessly from the ground when my ass, my thighs, and the sensitive space in between are scattered with blows. Each scream blends right into the next, becoming one long, breathless wail.

Smack—smack—smack—smack! 

I lose count after eight—two more than the six he originally prescribed. After the first set of penalty lashes, my body lies helpless against the table, simply taking each blow one after the other, and I am crying loudly, sobbing. Will this ever end?

Virus finishes me up with two more—one really mean lash against my thighs and one more against my sit spot, which causes that strange, painful heavy sensation in my hips—and I am in tears.

“Now. What do you say, kitten?”

I struggle to stop my tears and catch my breath—my ass feels like it is burning, and my ears are burning in utter humiliation and embarrassment. As soon as I calm myself, I answer him, hoping to please him enough so he will stop! 

“Th-thank you, sir, f-for the v-valuable l-lesson.”

“I assume you have learned it well, then.” 

I still do not move—I’m scared even to breathe—and even the soft warm breeze hurts my tender skin. I don’t know how I will be able to sit tomorrow!

“Now, here’s what you will do,” Virus whispers in my ear—and his lips are touching the outside of my ear. It’s like an intrusive version of what the silver cat did—but he is ruining it! “You will wait for me in my office, where you will write that thank-you note. Then, you will spend the rest of the evening in your room, considering your offense. Tomorrow, you will spend the entire day off-campus, receiving in-person training at a local inn that works with us regularly. You can decide for yourself whether you really desire my help or if work at an inn is more suitable than winning the affections of that elegant silver cat.”

Virus slaps my ass with his open palm one more time for emphasis—and I bite my lip to prevent crying out, but fresh tears spill from my eyes.

“Dress yourself and wait in my office.” 

“Y-yes, sir. Th-thank you, s-sir,” I mumble quietly. I release the edge of the table and use it to push myself up to stand, gingerly pulling up my trousers and underwear, which have fallen to my knees. It burns to have anything touch the fresh welts. My shaking hands and fingers fumble with the button and zipper on my trousers and struggle with my belt. I keep my face lowered to the ground and I head inside, noticing Virus has poured himself a cup of tea and is resting contently in a chair in the shade. 

Once inside, I try to sit on the couch, but it’s incredibly uncomfortable. At least the vomit has been cleaned up. I wait as patiently as I can, drying the remainder of my tears, while I remain standing. My body shivers anytime anything touches my ass. He must make me wait a good fifteen or twenty minutes, but I don’t say anything at all when he returns to the office.

“Now, let’s write the thank-you note,” Virus has a pleasant smile on his face, and he looks relaxed and refreshed, almost as though he has had a nice nap. Did he enjoy punishing me? Wasn’t that awfully severe for something I couldn’t help? I try not to think about it. “Sit down, Konoe.”

I give Virus a pleading look, and he returns it, expecting me to obey. 

“What are you waiting for? You can’t very well write standing up, can you?”

“N-no, sir,” I mumble. I sit down in the chair he has motioned, at the very edge, and it burns my thighs just the same. I try not to wince.

“The great thing about a lashing is that it has lasting effects. For the next few days, you will remember it—the humiliation, the pain, the actual event—every time you sit down or something brushes your backside. I find it to be quite effective. Perhaps you will obey me from now on. I did warn you your training would be rigorous.”

He hands me a pen and a notecard. Fumbling to find a comfortable position to hold the pen, I manage it.

“Dear Rai,” Virus dictates. “Thank you ever so much for the lovely bouquet. The flowers are simply beautiful! Assuming my training goes smoothly, I will be permitted to attend our next social in two weeks. I would love to thank you in person if you will be in attendance.” He stops for a moment. “With love, Konoe.”

I finish writing exactly what I am told, only slightly disgusted with myself, and I hand the note to Virus for inspection.

“Hmph. Your handwriting is passable, I suppose.” He blots the ink and puts the card in an envelope and seals it. “Now, off to your room. You will want to get to bed early since you have a very early start tomorrow.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I say, bowing my head. I am relieved to get out of his office but am accosted by Trip on my way upstairs. “Sir?” I ask him nervously. 

“I was just awfully impressed with what I saw at tea, pretty kitty. And wow—tomorrow you’re off to the inn! I wonder if the owner of that place will let us have you back? He may purchase you from us outright.”

Purchase me? I shudder at his words—but he cannot possibly be saying anything truthful. He must be trying to rile me up! I don’t reply at first, then think better of it.

“I thank you for the opportunity to learn, sir.” 

“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Trip says, reaching out and grabbing my tail. Having his hand so close to my ass is really making me nervous. “Sweet dreams, little one.” He swats my butt playfully, which brings tears to my eyes. 

I make a fast escape and hurry up the stairs. The first thing I notice when I enter my room is the lovely fresh floral scent—the beautiful bouquet that Rai sent me for no particular reason. 

The silver cat was kind to me. That is one thing I can hold onto tightly. I will see him again—and the gods only know what Virus expects me to do to him or him to do with me. But I would do just about anything for sake of kindness, at this point.

As I’m changing into my pajamas, and I look at my body in the mirror. My ass and thighs are covered in raised, broad welts, and the rest of my butt is as red as kuim. I touch the welts gingerly, not knowing what to do. If they were on a different area of my body, I’d leave them open to the air or lick them with my tongue, but I share this room with another cat and I can’t exactly reach them. I don’t want to be rude. Perhaps for just a little while—until after dinner—I will give them some air.

I put on just the top of my pajamas and strip off my underwear and leave them and the bottoms on the side of the bed. Then, I crawl into bed, turning on my side on top of the covers, letting my wounded skin feel the breeze from the window. I feel awful. Fresh tears flood my eyes the moment my head hits the pillow.

Where is Tokino? What am I even doing here? How on earth am I going to make it here if this was only my first day? 

I allow myself a short time to cry—I haven’t cried in a long time before today, and today I’ve cried more than I have since I lost my mother. When it feels as though my tears have run dry, I take a deep shaky breath and stare out the window. It’s still early, and the moon of light is still in the sky.

I’m nervous about tomorrow—working at an inn? I can clean well enough, but I’ve never worked around other cats before. I don’t know what will be expected of me. But instead of worrying about it, I try to bring the silver cat’s handsome face to mind: chiseled cheekbones, an elegant nose, that gorgeous ice-blue eye, that soft, gentle smile—a genuine smile. And that soft silver hair and soft fur, and wonderful clean scent. That’s what I imagine when I drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Before the dawn of the moon of light, I’m shaken awake. It’s very early, and I’m startled to see a cat I don’t recognize. He’s short but has a very fit build and a serious face, his silver hair and fur seem to almost glow in the dim light. His piercing blue eyes threaten me when he whispers to wake me. 

“Konoe. Get dressed. We only have a few minutes before we have to leave. You have to hurry or you will be punished again, and you don’t want that on the ride, believe me.”

I slide out of bed, realizing I’m only dressed in my top, and I blush deeply, but the silver-haired cat is already gone. I pull on my clothes as quickly as I can, fix my hair, and grab my hat and am pulling on my boots as I rush down the stairs where I find the silver-haired cat waiting.

“Keeping us waiting again, Princess?” Trip asks me, keeping his voice quiet, probably for the rest of the house, which is asleep. “Do you like being punished so much? I’d best treat your wounds before you go.” 

I cast a glance in the silver-haired cat’s direction, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. Trip nods toward Virus’ office and motions for me to follow. I obey without complaint.

“Let me see your hands first.”

I hold out my hands while standing before the desk, realizing with horror that Trip has said “first.” Does this mean he intends to look at the wounds from the strapping I received yesterday as well? I shudder helplessly as my bandages are removed and nausea rises when I hear the disinfectant swish in the bottle. I look away when I see the cotton pads being pressed against my palms and I bite my cheek to keep myself from making any sound at all.

It stings, but not nearly like it did yesterday—I’m relieved. He wraps my hands again quickly and then looks at me firmly.

“Let’s see the damage from yesterday’s strapping as well.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I begin.

“Are you sure you want more? Because if you don’t lower your pants right now, that’s what will happen.” Trip’s voice is low and hard, leaving no room for negotiation.

I swallow hard and struggle with my belt—my hands shaking—and then my trousers. I lower my pants as instructed, and Trip stands up, walking behind me. 

“Smart. Even a shy kitty like yourself knows to leave welts like this open to air. Good for you.” Disgustingly, I feel a hand travel up the inside of my bare thigh and to my buttocks. I straighten up, flinching suddenly, moving my hands from their position on the desk to protect myself, but he responds, “Keep both hands on the desk.”

I hear the swishing of disinfectant from the glass bottle again and I try to remain quiet when he rubs my welts down with it. I can’t, though. It’s too painful—the welts burn, and sound leaks out, even despite my biting the inside of my cheek.

“Hush up, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Really, a healing salve or ointment would be better than disinfectant—in my opinion—for welts from a strap—at least in a place like this. But I keep my mouth shut and only small groans escape my lips. I’m shaking when he is done and my ass feels twice its usual size.

“You sure look pretty, kitty. I’m sure you’ll have an interesting day today. Keep in mind that could be your future if you don’t comply with our teaching here.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I mumble, keeping my eyes on the floor.

He drags me back out to where the other cat is waiting, and Trip makes sure he leads us both to the carriage. My ass is burning when I sit down, and I have no idea how long we will be riding. Shivering slightly, I look at the silver-haired cat.

“I’m Konoe. What’s your name?”

“Akira,” he answers, looking out the window.

“Do you know where we are headed?” 

“To an inn on the outskirts of Ransen.” 

Ransen? Shit! At least an hour, probably more, in this carriage! I shift around in discomfort. 

“Lie down if you want,” Akira says. “I won’t tell and you’ll be more comfortable. The work is hard, and you won’t have a chance to rest once we get there—plus the customers are a little handsy.”

“Handsy?”

“They tend to grab at you,” Akira eyes me carefully. “I was relieved to see you were coming with me since they will probably leave me alone this time.”

“Is this a punishment?” I lie down on my stomach, taking the pressure off my ass.

“I think it might be, for you,” Akira answers. “It’s a fast way to learn your place as well as customer service. But the owner isn’t really that bad—at least if he doesn’t really like you, anyway.”

I feel slightly sick. The carriage jolting around is making me worse, and I can’t see out the window lying on my stomach. I’m used to walking everywhere I go. And I’m nervous. 

“What will I be expected to do?” I ask.

“Wait tables, serve food, be nice to the guests, clean—anything else they require.” Akira looks at me carefully. He must be older than me. I wonder how long he has been here. “Don’t worry about it. There’s on-the-job training.”

“All right,” I say—but the sick feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. I manage to drift off to sleep about half-way there, and I don’t wake till the carriage stops. 

“Konoe.” Akira is shaking me awake once again, and I think I might actually be sick. Did I eat anything at all yesterday? I cannot remember! Yes—lunch with Virus, which I threw up in his office. “We are here.”

“Ah, okay.” He climbs out first and I follow, looking around. There isn’t much supervision—at least that I can see. I wonder if I could run away. Would I want to? Where would I go? If I did—would I be able to find that silver cat again? And what—just leave Tokino behind? What kind of friend am I?

I follow Akira into a medium-sized, older building—he enters through the back door, and he heads into what looks like the lobby. There is a huge tiger cat sitting at the reception desk. 

“Akira, nice to see you—and who’s this?” The tiger stands up—and he’s easily as big as the silver cat, if not slightly broader in the chest and shoulders. I shrink away slightly, hiding behind Akira, but he pushes me to the front, and says, “Konoe, this is Bardo. He is our boss today.”

“Nice to meet you, Konoe.” I can’t look up at the sound of his deep voice, and I can feel him looking at me. “I’m not sure I have a uniform that will fit you. You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” I say quietly, though I hate people commenting on my size. Fuck him! 

“Come along with me. Akira, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Akira says, and he walks into another room, leaving me alone with this terrifying tiger. I sneak a peek at him. His amber eyes are scrutinizing my form, and he has black hair and a black beard. He’s a bit older—perhaps in his mid-30s, I’d guess.

“You’re really quite sweet. Let’s find you something to wear.”

I follow his long striped tail into a small room—and to my horror, it’s a bedroom. I flatten my ears against my head in an instant, nervously swallowing and shifting on my feet. He is obviously looking for something in the wardrobe, but I’m scared to be in a bedroom alone with this giant. He’s pulled something out and put it on the bed—a gray yukata with black trim on the sleeves and hem, and a red collar and obi. I’ve never worn something like that, so I look at it with confusion.

“The nice thing about these is that we don’t have to worry so much about sizing,” he says confidently. “You’ve worn one before, right?”

“Um, no. Sir.” I stare at it for a moment then glance up at his face. What do I do?

“Go on. I’ll drape it for you.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Um. Here? Sir?” I look around, and Bardo closes the door and stands in front of it with his arms crossed.

“Here. Now. Go on.”

“What about, um, Akira? He could help me? I’m sure you’re busy. Sir.” I glance up at those amber eyes again carefully, hoping I’m not about to earn myself another beating. 

“Konoe, you said your name was?”

“Yes?”

“You’re quite new to the school, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” He can tell? That’s not good. Shit. If he doesn’t beat me, will he give me an unfavorable review? Then, will I be made another spectacle of when I return home?

“Listen. The work here is hard but fair. Your fine uniform will be ruined if you work in it. I know the headmaster probably had it specially tailored for you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir.”

 "So, let's keep that in mind and wear the work uniforms here to keep from soiling your school clothes. They are easier to clean and move around in, anyway."

"Um... yes, sir." But I just stare at the yukata on the bed rather than making a move to take off my clothes. I do not wish to strip in front of another cat!

“So polite. So agreeable. Yet you will not do as I ask.”

“Please, sir!” Tears flood my eyes in an instant, and I don’t know what to do. My body won’t move. I’ve already been embarrassed once today—less than two hours ago. I don’t even know this man! What if he— “Uwaa!” 

Bardo takes two steps closer to me and grabs my cravat and begins to untie it. I flinch away, trying to escape, but the only place I can go is backward. I back up against the bed, which is even worse. I do not sit down. My tie is easily removed and his hands move to my waistcoat.

“Please! Sir!” I beg, desperate to stop his hands, putting my hands on top of his much larger ones, trying to tear them from my body. I try turning away, but even facing away from him, he easily removes my vest. “Please!”

“It’s normal for someone your age to be a little shy,” he murmurs into my ear, moving his hands to the buttons on my collar. “We have a lot to do today, so, unfortunately, I do not have time for disobedience.”

The tears in my eyes slip down my cheeks and I look down, watching as my shirt is stripped from my body. He’s not forceful, nor particularly handsy, as Akira warned, but my fur is fluffed out in alarm, my nubs of claws are drawn and my fangs bare defensively. I blink when my shirt is slipped from my shoulders. A single tear splashes on the back of his hand when he moves to unbuckle my belt.

“What is this?” My face is tilted up and back at a rather sharp angle and I instantly drop my eyes. However, I am unable to hide my fangs in time. “Tears?”

“Please! Sir, please! D-do n-not p-punish me!” I sob, still not meeting his eye. 

I’m met with silence. And his hands move from my body, but they land in my shoulders, turning me toward him. A loud, breathless sob escapes my mouth when I realize he is waiting for me to speak, or at least meet his eyes.

“Konoe. Look at me.”

“P-please, sir,” I gasp, finally raising my eyes, tears sparkling from my lashes. "Please, d-don't h-hurt me."

The face that meets mine is kind—his eyes are soft and gentle, not harsh or mean. His expression makes even more sadness well up inside me, and fresh tears spill from my eyes.

“Hey, stop this. Now, now. This is not torture. What’s the matter? We are just finding you a uniform.” He slips the sleeves of the yukata onto one of my arms and invites me to do the other. “You finish undressing yourself. I’ll get you something to drink.”

He disappears for a moment, and I do as he asks. I try to get my tears under control. There is a pair of funny-looking sandals for me to wear, too, so I slip off my shoes and socks as well, leaving my clothes in a neat pile, my breathing hard and fast. I feel ridiculous and embarrassed. 

The robe is much too long for me—I see my reflection in the mirror on the back of the door—I have no idea how to—what did he say—drape it? So I sit quietly with the fabric pulled snug around my body, taking deep calming breaths.

He comes in a moment later, and he is carrying two mugs. It smells like lavender and mint, but it’s sweet and rich—like milk and honey. Hot tea with milk or cream? It settles my stomach, too, and helps calm me. 

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Thank you, sir.” I take another sip. Then I venture, “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be. You’re new, right? When did you arrive?”

“The night before last, sir.”

“What?! They’ve sent you out already? Why?”

“I th-think I’m being punished or trained, sir,” I look down at the steam floating off the surface of the tea. “For a s-social?”

“I see. So soon?”

“In two weeks, I was told, sir.” 

“Hmm. Well, perhaps they don’t find you compliant?”

“N-no, sir,” I say, somewhat sadly. 

Bardo smiles, taking a sip of his own tea. 

“Can’t you do as they ask?”

“I believe I do, sir!” I insist, but I’m ashamed of my reply. “It’s not good enough, or fast enough, or to anyone’s liking, apparently. I’ve not spent much time around others, sir.”

“Oh? Where are you from?”

“Karou, sir, but I’ve lost my home.”

“Has your family sent you here?”

“I have no family, sir.” 

“Ah. I see.” My ears are rubbed softly, and the tender gesture reminds me of the elegant white cat. “You will get used to it, I’m sure. You will be quite popular.”

“Thank you, sir.” I don’t know what else to say. I drink the rest of the sweet, hot tea in silence. 

“Shall I help you now?” 

“Yes, sir.” I try to be obedient, and I stand up when he does. Bardo stands behind me and has me face the mirror. He wraps the obi around my waist while tucking the excess fabric of the yukata under it at the same time. It’s like watching origami—very impressive, and not something I could repeat. He hands me a thin piece of elastic rope.

“Use this to keep your sleeves out of the way if necessary. Oh—are your hands wounded?”

Instinctively, I lower my hands to hide them. But he gives me a warning look.

“There is laundry to do, dishes to be washed, cleaning to be done. If you have wounds on your hands, I don’t want them to get worse.”

“Um, yes, sir.”

“Did you fall?”

“No, sir. I-I was c-caned.”

“On your palms? Before you were sent to me? Yesterday?” Bardo sounds exasperated.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” I sound miserable. My ears and tail are showing my distress.

“Why not somewhere other than your hands, for gods’ sake?”

“They did that, too. Sir,” I admit that quietly. I look down, completely mortified.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I was strapped as well, sir.” 

Bardo rubs his hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. I don’t know if he’s frustrated with me, though—but it feels like it. I back up just a little.

“Listen, they should not be punishing you on your first day, Konoe. It’s just I have mostly physical labor here, and I don’t know what to do with you now. Are you good with numbers?”

“Yes, sir!” I brighten up. I’m very good with them, and I’m eager to be useful.

“See what you can make of my books, then—at least till lunch.”

I follow Bardo to the lobby, and he sets me at the desk. I’m given a mess of receipts—the books are a mess, but like a puzzle to be solved, so I get to work.

Akira passes through several times, quietly looking at me or nodding at me. I return his greeting. I hope my lack of usefulness doesn’t make him have more work, but he seems fine. I work till the lunch hour when guests begin to arrive. Bardo asks me to seat them, and then we serve them food.

It’s a lot of work—taking orders and bringing food to the right tables—also, keeping my body and tail and ears out of the way of the guests’ somewhat grabby hands. I end up pulled into the laps of several customers while Bardo isn’t looking. It hurts my ass—incredibly—the welts burn like nothing else—and I try not to yelp. But it happens and it gets a reaction. 

Akira pulls me aside, warning me that will only encourage them. I watch how skilled he is at dodging tables and hands, and I wonder how much practice he has. Tears leak from my eyes when one guest pinches me—but I hide them as best I can. 

I don’t like serving food—and that is the main job here. We do that from lunch onward—even through the afternoon into the dinner hour—late into the evening. Akira helps clean up while I continue serving guests. It’s horrible, grueling labor.

I can’t wait to get back to the carriage. At the end of the night, I’m exhausted—and can barely change back into my uniform. Bardo sends us on our way with a basket of food—we are both hungry. We eat in the carriage on the way home, and both of us sleep after eating—or even during our meal.

It’s late in the night and silent when we arrive home. Akira whispers we should quietly shower since we won’t have time in the morning. Sleepily, I follow him up to the bathing chamber, and he makes sure I don’t fall asleep in the bath. 

He walks me back to my room. 

“You did much better than I did my first day, Konoe. I’m glad you were with me today.”

He doesn’t say much, I learned, but what he says is kind. I thank him, then push open the door to my room. I’m greeted by the gorgeous aroma of those pretty pink flowers—I’d forgotten all about them. I bury my nose in them for a moment before pulling on my pajamas, touching the heavy cardstock of the card from the elegant silver cat reverently. I hold it to my nose. Can I smell that cat’s scent on it now? I’m too tired to be able to tell.

I take the card to bed with me and fall asleep with it clutched in my hands.

Chapter Text

The next day, I follow Aoba’s lead—getting dressed, straightening the room before inspection, and then follow him down to breakfast. He is chipper and full of questions, though slightly spooked when I mention Akira came with me to the inn. 

“That guy—he’s frightening,” Aoba says quietly. “I mean, I’m no slouch and can hold my own, but man, he is really, really good in a fight.” 

“A fight?” I ask. How would that even come up here, I wonder? Would Virus and Trip let students fight? 

“Yeah, and Trip beat the shit out of him when he first got here, but the headmaster had to bring in help. Ah—you haven’t met our fencing instructor, have you?”

“N-no,” I reply. “I don’t think I’m permitted to take part—”

“But it’s a gentleman’s sport!” Aoba says. “You’ve been defending your own home for years, haven’t you?”

“I have, but not with fencing,” I say. 

“What did you use?”

“Well, my sword and my claws,” I answer.

Aoba hums in response. “I’m interested to see what the instructor makes of you. He has a thing for Akira.”

A thing? What kind of thing? It’s none of my business. To my dismay, Tokino is still not at breakfast! What has happened to him? While looking around, Noiz—the tall, muscular blonde with green eyes—meets my gaze, as if he can read my mind. 

After breakfast, Trip is waiting for me. I cringe and my stomach feels upset when I see him standing there, smirking at me. He could simply ask me to follow him, but instead, he roughly grabs my ear and pulls me out of my chair, a small yelp escaping my lips. 

“What did I do??” I clutch desperately at my ear, angry I wasn’t able to duck in time. “Please—I’ll come with you—willingly—sir—please—if you would just—”

“You need to get used to the idea of others touching you and your body not being your own to do with as you please anymore. I don't like your attitude. You’re to see Virus this morning for private lessons and to see what sort of special talent you might have.”

“Talent?” I echo, relieved when Trip releases my ear in the hallway.

“I have a pretty good idea where you’re going to end up. Personally, I think it would be better to teach you what to expect, but Virus thinks you’ll be worth more if you’re clueless and innocent.”

An unpleasant revulsion shivers across my fur at his tone, and I feel distaste bubbling up like bile. What is he talking about? I don’t ask, and I’m unceremoniously pushed inside Virus office. 

“Ah, good morning, Konoe,” Virus purrs, looking over the top of his glasses at me. “Did you enjoy yourself on your outing yesterday? I heard there were problems.” 

“Wh-what? N-no—I d-did everything asked o-of m-me—s-sir,” I can’t keep the fear from my voice, and it stammers desperately. “Please, sir!”

“Show me your hands.”

Tears blur my eyes—my palms are not healed from their last caning, and I can’t imagine being punished on top of these healing wounds.

“Oh, stop, now. I’m only treating your injuries. Hush. I want to remove your bandages if possible. For you have a guest today.” I’m relieved when I’m not going to be beaten again.

“A guest, sir?”

“He is a regular customer of ours who has taken some troublemakers off our hands in the past. He has a gift for finding certain hidden talents among our new students. I think you will get along well. Just beware: if you don’t do as he says, he will force your obedience.” 

“I-I w-will obey, sir,” I say, watching the cotton come down on the palms of my hands. Again, the sloshing of the disinfectant in its bottle makes my stomach turn, but it barely stings. I’m nervous he will want to clean off my ass the same way—but those welts have healed significantly. They didn’t even burn with soap last night. To my surprise, he doesn’t demand that I strip off my pants, either.

“While we wait for his arrival, let’s study current events.”

Virus hands me the newspaper and starts asking questions, sort of in a small-talk way. If I don’t know the answer, he waits for me to find the article and read it. It’s interesting. I’ve never really read a newspaper.

After about an hour—there is a knock at the door. 

“His carriage just pulled up,” Trip says.

“Please, take Konoe to the evaluation room. Wait patiently, and be polite. Remember this school’s tolerance of claws and fangs. I will not interfere if he thinks you deserve punishment.” 

A sudden, cold fear shivers across my shoulders. Exactly what kind of evaluation is this, anyway? But I’m led to a nice chamber, several doors down from Virus. The drapes are drawn and it takes me a moment to get used to the dark. It’s opulent—from the lush carpeting to the gold-foiled wallpaper. There is a sitting area, and I head there to sit and wait, my hands folded in my lap.

I wonder if the room doubles as a guest room because there is a large bed with fine burgundy bedding and a canopy that drapes all the way from the ceiling. As my eyes adjust, I see there is also a bar—completely stocked with wine and liquor. There is no writing desk, and that concerns me more and more, the longer I am made to wait.

I hear a soft click and the handle on the door turns, and I leap to my feet in surprise, fur bristling. I’ve worked myself up into a near frenzy by the time the guest actually arrives. He has a medium build with long blonde hair and short fur. He is dressed in a white suit—not very practical, I think—with a bright pink shirt underneath and a lime green tie. He also wears a feather boa around his neck, and he has a strange, affected way of walking, almost like he is modeling the outfit he is wearing.

To my surprise, he is wearing a mask over his eyes, which makes it hard for me to read his expression.

“Ah. So you must be Konoe. I am Arbitro. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.” His voice is gentle and not spoken in his regular tone, almost like he makes it sing-song or higher for my benefit.

“Mr. Arbitro—it’s nice to make your acquaintance, sir.” I keep my voice soft and I lower my gaze.

“What a polite boy you are!” He takes the seat directly across from where I was sitting on the couch. “Do you know how to make any cocktails?”

“Um, well, sir, I just learned last night. What would you like?”

“Your choice.”

I stand up and walk to the bar and fix him a martini. The bar is stocked with fresh ice as well. I’m suddenly thankful for what I learned yesterday. When I bring him the glass, I lower my eyes as he takes it from my hand, and he deliberately brushes my fingertips, which makes me feel uncomfortable.

“Ah, sweet thing. Have a seat. I’d like to get to know you.” Then he peppers me with questions—how old am I, where am I from, what sort of education do I have? None? But how did I manage so well on the exams? I explain about my love of reading. Then he asks about hobbies.

“Hobbies, sir?”

“Yes, my dear. What do you enjoy in your free time?”

“I-I’m not really sure, sir. I’ve never really had much free time. So I read, mostly.”

“I see. Do you dance or sing?”

“No, sir.”

“You have the most lovely voice—I could imagine you singing. I will see you get some dancing lessons as well. It will add to your societal skills and value. I understand you were brought here with a friend?”

“Ah, yes, sir. My friend Tokino.” My heart feels anxious when I say his name out loud.

“What was the nature of your relationship with him?”

“The nature?” I ask, confused. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question, sir.” 

“Come, come. He would visit your village. Did he spend the night with you? At your house?” 

“If the weather was too bad for traveling, yes. He has spent the night with me.”

“I see,” Arbitro seems disappointed, at first. But then he looks at me. “How old is Tokino?”

“I believe he is a year older than me, sir. Seventeen?”

“So—when he spent the night with you, did he sleep in your bed?” 

I’m surprised at the question.

“My home in Karou was very small, and I would never ask a guest to sleep on the floor.”

“So you would share your bed? With Tokino?”

“In the cold months, I may have done that once or twice.”

Arbitro stops again. Then he drinks the rest of his martini in a single swallow. Then he trains that strangely masked gaze right on me so hard it makes me want to flinch. 

“Now. You must be honest with me here, Konoe. If you lie, I cannot help you. Were you and Tokino... intimate?” 

“Intimate? In what way, sir? I mean—he shared my bed—”

“You’ve said as much. But did you touch each other?” 

“Sir, my bed is very small, so yes, I’m afraid we did touch, haphazardly.”

“Don’t be coy with me! I’m asking if you had intercourse with the boy!”

“I-intercourse?” I repeat. He can’t mean what I think he means. 

“Sex! Did you have sex? Oral? Anal? Was there any touching of the parts of your body intended for that act?” 

“Um, uh,” I stammer, completely flustered. I know what sex is, but it didn’t occur to me that I’m old enough to do that yet. And did he say something about oral? Oral sex? What even is that? It wigs me out! “N-no, sir. I-I am n-not old enough. And Tokino is just my friend.” 

“Not old enough,” he laughs softly. “And yet, I heard you’ve already received a bouquet of flowers from a guest. What was that for?” 

“Sir?” 

“I mean, what did you do in return for those flowers?” Arbitro is sounding exasperated.  

“N-nothing, sir! I-I did n-nothing!”

“Did you kiss him, at least?”

“N-no! I’ve never kissed anyone!” I can feel my ears blushing.

“Why do your ears blush? Ah! Did he kiss you?” 

“N-not exactly—he, um, kissed my hand and licked my ear.” Why do I feel guilty about this? It's irritating me that I am being made to feel guilty for something I didn't hate and something I didn't even do! Was there something wrong with what he did? I didn’t hate it—not at all, in fact, I can still remember his scent quite vividly—but his actions weren’t something I could have helped.

“That is all?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” I look down at the floor in front of me, filled with guilt—all over nothing! I did nothing—and the white cat did nothing but show me kindness and send me flowers… and yet, something strange flutters in my chest whenever I think about him. There is a short pause, and I can’t bring myself to look up at the strange cat asking all these questions. This is uncomfortable.

“Wonderful!” Arbitro claps his hands. “You’ll be perfect. I know what we will do with you—I think. I just need to examine you, to be sure you were telling me the truth, first. Now, remove your boots and stockings, please.”

Why would he need to see my feet? I obey, though I’m surprised by the command, taking off my boots and my stockings.

“Now. That was very good. Are you always this obedient?”

“I was told to do whatever you ask, sir.” I cast my gaze down again.

“Wonderful. Just what I want to hear. So stand up, please, and disrobe.”

My chin jerks up suddenly, but to my dismay, Arbitro does not look like he is joking. 

“Didn’t you say you would comply with whatever I asked?”

“Um...”

“Realize, before another word comes from your pretty lips, three things: First, if you disobey, I can and will force you to comply. Second, if I have to force you to obey, I will be very displeased and I will punish you. Third, I will let the headmaster know you were disobedient. I think that would displease him as well.”

A sinking feeling comes over me, and I feel dizzy and nauseated. I don’t want another punishment—especially not from Virus. And I don’t like the looks of this cat either. But I really don’t want to be naked in front of him, either. 

“It’s simply an exam, kitten. I don’t want to hurt you. But I will be forced to if you disobey me.”

A tiny sob squeezes from my throat. This is humiliating! I hate this! But I don’t know what else to do, so I pull myself to my feet and start unbuttoning my waistcoat. 

“Wise decision. Deposit your clothes on the bed, on the left side.” 

I try to mumble, “Yes, sir,” but it isn’t audible over my tears. I really do not want to be whipped again, and gods only know what this cat would do to punish me. I certainly don’t want his hands on me—having the innkeeper strip off my clothes yesterday was bad enough! I put my waistcoat on the side of the bed as ordered, and then move to my shirt. Unbuttoning it, I keep my eyes on my task, ignoring the other cat in the room. 

Perhaps he is a doctor? This might be a medical exam. Is that what this is?

“Ah, you have lovely skin, kitten.”

Okay. So he isn’t a doctor—or if he is, he has a terrible bedside manner. I feel my ears filling with heat when I move to my belt and unbuckle it, but I leave it in my trousers for now. I unzip and unbutton my fly and slide my pants off my hips and am left standing in my underwear, staring at the floor. There is another brief pause.

“Go on, kitten. This is an exam. I need to be sure your body—all of it—is healthy.”

I turn toward the bed and strip off my underwear, my tail fluffing out in embarrassment. I don’t hear him approach, but right after depositing that last item of clothing onto the pile, I feel someone breathing down my neck. Is he smelling me? It’s horrible. 

Hands skate down my shoulders and back to my hips.

“P-Please, sir,” I whisper.

“You have a gorgeous shape and you smell delicious. Exactly what we’ve been looking for, in fact. It seems you have been disobedient, however.” Disgustingly, I feel his hands stroke across my welted skin. “But you heal fast. I saw your hands earlier. Turn around so I can take a closer look.”

My throat is amazingly tight and uncomfortable—and I want to escape more than anything. His hands feel slimy, almost—utterly revolting. A shiver rushes down my spine as he urges me to turn around and face him, but I keep my tail right where it is. He meets my gaze with a creepy smile, and then his hands crawl up to my face, feeling my ears, combing through my fur and ears. Then he caresses down my throat out to my arms. He turns my palms over in his hands—they are much smaller than his. He presses on my palms to make my claws draw, the tiny nubs that are left, anyway.

“Such soft fur, smooth skin—it matches your scent and coloring. And good, he thought to clip your claws already.”

My heart is beating loud in my ears—and I want to run away—every inch of my being is telling me to get away from this man—but I know I will be punished if I don’t obey. The tears I’ve been holding back finally overflow and slip down my cheeks.

“Aw, adorable. Are you frightened? I said I wouldn’t hurt you if you obey, sweet kitten.” The voice is murmured deep in my ear.

My entire body quivers, and he drops my hands to my chest, pushing me toward the bed. I hear an urgent alarm sounding in my brain, and I am really scared now—close to panic. 

“I just need to see if you’ve been honest with me. Lie down on the bed, face down.”

Another shudder courses through my body as I scurry to obey crawling up on the mattress, making up for my prior hesitation, but my legs are grabbed. “No, keep your legs hanging off, just like this. This is an exam. I told you.”

His hand caresses the dip in my lower back, exploring my butt and the base of my tail, and skating down to my thighs, he pushes them apart. 

“Raise yourself up a little, please.”

“P-Please, sir,” I beg again, and a loud sob escapes my throat.

“Oh, are you weeping? My dear, this is nothing to be frightened by. What you should be afraid of is when the guest who gave you those flowers comes back to collect.”

Collect? Collect on what?

I feel my balls and even my dick being handled a little roughly, and I bristle, raising my torso on the bed. 

“Please—Ah!” I cry out loud when his hand suddenly pulls away and smacks my ass, right at the crease where my thighs and buttocks meet.

“Submit!”

“Y-Yes, s-sir,” My voice is shaking, my body quivers. I lower my body back to the bed—now shivering with the awareness of exactly how vulnerable I am. “I-I am s-sorry, s-sir.”

“You get delightfully pink, delightfully quickly. Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

I inhale slowly and stutter immediately when I feel his fingers slipping in between my cheeks. A small yelp comes out of my mouth when my lowered tail is pulled up sharply. My body stiffens in surprise, but I can’t do anything to protect myself. Nubs of claws draw against the mattress.

“Submit, kitten. Relax, or it will hurt. If you resist again, I will punish you, and it will be severe.”

“Ah—p-please—d-don’t—Please! I c-can't—”

But I can do nothing—I feel his fingers pressing against the rim of that private part of my body, then pushing inside of me, and it hurts—it doesn’t help that my body is tense. He is invading me—violating me—and it is so much worse than being stripped or beaten! What is this? Tears stream from my eyes and I sob quietly. My heart feels like it's being torn from my chest.

“Please, tears from an exam? Don’t be so silly, kitten. I’m not hurting you.” 

I think I hear a small moan and a sigh behind me, and it disgusts me. He presses around inside me, perhaps not even a full knuckle deep before pulling his finger out. My ass is smacked again—and hard—closer to my thighs than my ass—but I don’t resist. I flinch from the sting, but I don’t move my body. I'm too busy thinking about what was just done to me, against my will, against my strength, and what it might mean.

“Hmm. It looks like you have been telling the truth. I’d like you to keep yourself innocent till your debut. And the stripes are lovely, which I will tell your headmaster. He won’t go easy on you. I have no doubt you will make someone quite pleased, as long as you don’t bite.”

My tail is brushed again, making my fur fluff out, and I shudder.

“A lucky tail? Really!” I feel a damp touch at the tip—I think he just licked me. Yet another shudder goes through my body, ruffling through my fur. “And so responsive, too. Now—we should time your debut with the season, I think.” 

I feel so dirty when he is finished with me—dirty and violated—and I want to take a shower. But I do not move from the bed, even after he leaves. I won’t until he gives me permission.

“I think we should keep this perfect little tush pink and warm for the next two weeks. Why don’t you stay here for a moment while I speak to your headmaster?”

“S-sir? P-please?” I beg, my voice against the bed, still crying quietly. I freeze in place when I realize what I think he means.

“Just lie there, please. Don’t move, or your punishment will be severe.” 

Arbitro leaves for a few minutes. It feels like an eternity to me—though while I’m relieved he is out of the room, I am very tempted to put my clothes back on. But he told me to stay put! If I disobey, won’t I be punished? Considering everything that was done to me, I was very obedient and compliant, I think. I shouldn't make it worse. I might be able to get out of this without punishment if I obey. So I try to relax and think about the silver cat instead, trying to remember the details of his scent.

Wait... would he do something like this to me? Spank me? Touch me like that? Somehow, him touching me doesn't feel as invasive as Arbitro's exam—if that is what that weird cat meant when he said, "collect."

The door opens again, probably five minutes later. 

“I have shared my plans with your headmaster, and he agrees. Now.” I feel a heavy weight on my right side, sitting next to me on the bed. “Let’s do what needed to be done earlier. Climb up onto my lap, kitten.”

Fear rushes through my body. He is going to punish me after all?! Even after I struggled so hard to be submissive!

“B-but I c-complied!” I burst out. “I did what you asked! I did not disobey!”

“For the most part, yes. But don’t you want to have a successful debut?”

I can’t answer for my distressed tears. 

“You are weeping so much already—and your tears are certainly beautiful. However, you are about to have an actual reason to cry. Perhaps if you were publicly spanked it would increase your interest.” 

Publicly? What is he even talking about? The thought is humiliating!

“And you dare stare back at me so rudely without complying with my commands! Come here, little brat!” I didn’t even know I was staring until he snaps at me. I was just so surprised by his words, I didn’t know how to respond! 

My body is pulled roughly over his lap, leaving my legs hanging off the side. I immediately swing my arms back, covering my butt with my hands, but they are easily grabbed. I try to kick my legs—I will not submit to this! But he traps my legs within his own. And then I hear a loud smacking sound—much louder than when he spanked me with his hand. 

It raises all the fur on my body before the pain registers. He has definitely not used his hand. I yelp in pain, shivering from it as it courses through my body. And it sounds again—this time, since the nerves are already excited, the pain comes much faster, spreading through my hips and even to the front of my groin. My ears flick back and I try to struggle free.

“Submit, kitten. This is probably the best training you will get for your new life.”

Smack! The coverage of the implement he is using feels like a paddle, only harder and smaller, and there is no swishing noise before connecting with my skin. I get no warning until the sound and pain register. The pain is severe and harder than the belt, though not quite as biting at first. It builds—getting worse and worse.

I cry out loud when I am swatted on the backs of my thighs, and the intensity that rushes through my body is horrible. It gets hotter and harder—the swats coming faster and faster in a regular rhythm—and I feel my legs and ass bruising and swelling. Tears are rolling down my face and I am close to screaming with every blow.

But I realize—soon enough—that there is no escape from this. I try to relax my arms—then my legs, and then my ass—into the punishment. Flexing my muscles only makes it worse. I am still sobbing loudly as the spanking continues, seemingly endless, but I am relaxed and submissive as I can be, and simply crying out in pain, taking what is given to me.

Eventually, it hurts just as much when he is spanking me as when he isn’t—though the bruises and welts hurt even more when he hits them repeatedly. My thighs and ass are burning—my tail is waving back and forth helplessly, and my ears are flat, my fangs bared.

Finally, the spanks slow—and I receive four more hard swats—smack, smack, smack, smack—to my thighs, my sit spot, my cheeks and my sit spot again. I still have no idea what he used, and I almost don’t want to know. 

Then, I feel a soft touch caressing my burning skin—his fingers? It makes me shiver and I feel sick.

“This is beautiful. Absolute perfection. I think they should repeat this treatment on you every few days, but not so much that your ivory skin becomes accustomed to it. Every three or four days should suffice.” 

My gods! Every three days? I can’t do this again! I weep silently at the thought, my tears dripping on the floor. 

“You are very red, now. Why don’t you cool off a little?” He pushes me off his lap and back onto the bed. I can’t even lie on my side because my ass is burning so much, so I stay naked, on my belly. 

“Th-th-thank y-you, s-sir,” I manage, with a disgusting taste in my mouth. I hear a soft sound next to my ear. I open my eyes, and lying beside me, is a large wooden hairbrush. My relaxed ears flatten and bristle at the same time. It was a brush?!

“My pleasure, darling, and know that this will all be worth it in the end. We are doing this for your own good—for your future.” My ears are pet and I flinch away from the touch. “So soft and precious—and nearly as pink as your ass!”

He leaves me to cool off—and I need to—I don’t even think about getting dressed for a minute, my chest still heaving with sobs. I’m miserable. I don’t know what to do. What the hell am I going to do? I have to get out of this place. They are going to kill me!

Chapter Text

After getting my tears under control and heaving a few heavy sobs, I am ready to tackle dressing myself. I sit up, wincing because my ass is so damn sore. I never want to look at that hairbrush again, but that horrible man left it beside me on the bed to mock me. It’s a heavy, mahogany thing: expensive and massive, designed for cats with long fur—perhaps like the silver cat, I bet. For just a moment, the thought of pulling the bristles through that long silky fur makes saliva collect on my tongue—much to my utter shock. I’ve just been thrashed with that thing! How could I even imagine such a thought? Shaking my head, I pull on my underwear first—wincing when the fabric touches my skin—and then my undershirt, then slip on the rest of my clothes as quickly as possible.

I look at the window—it’s barred—so there is no escape from this room. But I think I may be able to escape from my window upstairs. I know there is no way I can handle this kind of beating every three days! They can’t expect that from me when I haven’t even done anything to deserve it, can they?

As soon as I’m dressed and I’m putting my shoes on—standing up since it hurts too much to sit—the door swings open and Virus is standing there, hands on his hips. He’s very displeased.

“Ah. You’re dressed. Weren’t you told to lie there and cool down, kitten?” 

“I-i did and, um, I’m cool,” I stammer.

“Well, at this institution, that means wait as you are until you are excused. I need to see how your skin looks. We don’t want you damaged. Come back and lie down on the bed.”

“Please,” I start to beg, but my arm is pulled—well, yanked hard—from where I am standing, giving me no choice and raising my anxiety.

“Usually, this kind of disobedience would warrant additional punishment, kitten, but you’re new and you’ve just been through quite an ordeal. I’m sure you don’t want more, do you?”

“N-no, s-sir,” I stammer helplessly, as I’m thrown down on the bed. 

“So, please show me the damage. I’ll treat you as necessary. You are a valuable piece of property now, according to Arbitro, and you will be handled as such.” 

Piece of property? The fuck? My fur bristles when I hear that and my hands start to tremble.

“Sir—may I ask—what exactly is my function here?” 

“Why, as you were informed, you will be one of our entertainers, of course. Now hop to it and bare your skin, please, before I change my mind!”

I fumble with my belt and my pants—my fingers feel sticky and refuse to function properly, and the fabric stings as it brushes once more against my bruised skin—but I comply with his order as fast as I can. I’m covered with cold sweat as Virus feels up my ass to “check” the status of my skin. He is pressing and pulling on me, not being gentle at all, and I can’t keep quiet. I am utterly humiliated—this is almost as bad as the original punishment. In fact, I hate to admit it, but my shame is almost worse than the pain.

“He used the hairbrush on you? You are nicely bruised. He has the idea we should keep you this pink every few days, but I don’t like to punish our students for no reason. So, if you manage to stay on my good side and not get into any trouble, you won’t have to suffer through this again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur quietly, almost unable to speak for shame.

“I had planned on teaching you dancing today but you’re in terrible shape. So why don’t you head upstairs to your room to rest after your treatment? All right?” 

“Th-thank you, sir,” I whisper.

His treatment means applying some sort of salve to my buttocks and thighs, which he rubs in well, and I wince in pain when he does. Tears squeeze from my eyes when I receive his care, and I detest the attention. As soon as he finishes, he stops, waiting for a while. He is probably waiting to see if I will get dressed on my own without his permission, but I don’t.

Frankly, I’m so exhausted I can barely move, not to mention, I’m afraid.

“Now, Konoe, I should warn you, your value is only as high as your purity and innocence, so please, don’t mess around with any of the other boys. Once they figure out what you are being used for, you will probably gain some unwanted interest, and you will be punished if they succeed.”

Wait. What? If they succeed, I will be the one punished? 

“Just keep out of their way and you should be fine. Oh, and this includes Trip. So stay out of his way if you can, too. He’s notorious for putting his hands in the pie before it’s cooled.”

I really hope that Virus doesn’t mean this literally. Revulsion courses through my body, and the nausea I felt during Arbitro’s exam rises in my throat. 

“Please grant me a reply when I speak. It’s rude to just lie there, silent and sullen. You’ll need to be much more charming to win over your pretty silver-haired friend, you know.”

“Yes, sir,” I manage to squeeze out.

“Take the hairbrush with you. Keep it on your dresser—as a reminder for good behavior. I’ll ask you to bring it to me if required for discipline. If the infraction is severe enough, I’ll perform your discipline publicly, to set an example for the other boys. But realize, this will make you a target for the others as well.” 

My ears flatten and I flinch. I can feel my ears and cheeks flushing, just thinking about that. A public hairbrush spanking, as severe as I just suffered? I could never tolerate such abuse! I swallow actual vomit that’s risen to my mouth.

“Do you understand?” 

“Oh, um. Y-yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He pats my ass again—almost tenderly. It burns.

“Indeed, you are a pretty thing. Stay in your room till the dinner gong.”

“S-sir?” I stammer. 

“What is it now?” A small sigh puffs from his mouth, as though I’m an inconvenience.

“M-May I shower? Please, s-sir?” I am desperate to wash the scent of the other, horrible cat off my body—the feel of that horrid, intrusive exam, his fingers invading my most private parts. Not realizing I’m doing it, I squeeze my thighs together in memory of the horrible act. 

“Wait till after dinner. I just applied the healing salve, and it should stay on your skin as long as possible. If you like, you may keep your skin open to the air. The other students have fencing today in the backyard, so you will be undisturbed.”

A small disappointed sob hitches in my throat. 

“I understand.” I remain perfectly still, except for flattening my ears when they are touched and I am unable to keep my tail from lashing. 

“Good kitten. You’re getting better at compliance. You’re much more malleable after a solid, physical reprimand, aren’t you?”

I don’t know how to answer, except I’m sure I don’t want to agree. So instead I say, “I am trying my best to please you, sir.”

After another short sigh, which is close enough to my ears to move the fur deep inside, one of them is softly kissed. 

“You may dress now and return to your chamber. Keep the brush visible, where it will serve as a reminder for your behavior.” 

“Thank you, sir,” I mutter into the mattress, and I push myself up and quickly pull up my pants. I feel that cold blue gaze on me, even as I dress, even when I don’t look.

I walk from the room, the heavy, detested hairbrush in hand, passing Virus with my face pointed toward the floor, hurrying up the stairs and to my room. It’s empty, thankfully. I toss the brush onto my dresser with a thunk—it makes a solid sound that rings in my ears and raises goosebumps on my skin. The sound makes ears twitch because it’s so loud! Less than half an hour ago, my ass was being walloped with that very item, and now, I have to look at it, spend time with it, and keep it out in plain view. Surely, if I hide it, Virus will find out and punish me. It disgusts me to see it! 

A sense of unease bordering on hysteria starts to flood my body, much more slowly than I expect. Throwing open the window, leaving the lace curtains closed, I let in fresh air to ease my panic. I cannot believe I just suffered such humiliation! It almost feels unreal. It makes my skin crawl! The echo of my skin slapping still resounds in my ears, prickling the fur and making it stand on end, and my cheeks burn with shame.

Pouring myself a glass of water from the pitcher, I notice the obvious discomfort of the fabric brushing the surface of my skin. At home in Karou, I never sat around naked or exposed—even when it was hot or if I was sick—and I was utterly alone there. But now, I have no choice. I pull off my boots, unable to even sit down on my bed to do so. Then I carefully strip off my pants and underwear, fearful to look at my reflection over my shoulder in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

But I can’t avoid it. My skin is usually pale, but just below the hem of my shirt is bright red and swollen. I can’t tear my eyes away—I mean, it’s a nightmare! Bruising or “nicely pink” does not begin to describe the damage I see. Fresh tears form in my eyes and temporarily blur my vision, and the pain seems to come alive again when I lift the hem of my shirt. My entire ass—both cheeks, the backs of my thighs—half-way to my knees, in fact—as well as the tender crease where my ass and legs connect—is covered with angry, red splotches. 

Once my vision clears enough for me to take a closer look—and to realize what I am seeing is real and not a dream—the horror starts to sink in. I have actual blisters—raised welts—covering my entire backside. With trembling fingers, I reach behind myself to touch one very gently, and it burns! It even feels hot to my fingers—I can feel the heat rising from my skin before I even touch it with my hand. A small yelp comes from my mouth when I actually dare to touch it. 

My gods. What is going to happen to me? What am I going to do?

A wave of fresh panic rises in my throat and I feel trapped. I have to escape from this place before they kill me!   

I rush over to the window, remembering the trellis outside—but sure enough, the students are all gathered outside, waiting quietly and watching an instructor I haven’t met. He’s dressed all in black, carrying a long katana, and he has very pale skin, black hair, red eyes, and short black fur. There’s no way I can escape right now. He is facing the building right now—though his attention seems entirely focused on Akira, who does not appreciate it. In any other situation, this would interest me—the attractive, silver-haired cat was kind to me if somewhat aloof yesterday, and yet this instructor seems so intense... but I’m having my own issues right now. 

I am shaking, still—and I force myself to finish my water, trying to calm myself, trying to breathe. I need to think rationally. 

While Arbitro ordered the punishment repeated every three days, Virus said he wouldn’t punish me if I didn’t deserve it. So if I can remain calm and obedient, I should be all right. I will be okay. Before I met Arbitro, my day went fine. I return to my desk, carrying my glass, and I look at the bouquet. It still is just as gorgeous and even more fragrant. Maybe the silver cat will visit again. I liked him—I think he is kind—and he was so attractive and he smelled so good. Perhaps he can take me away from here. If I could just send him a letter and tell him what is happening—oh! Maybe I could ask if I might send him a love letter!

Or if I could escape... maybe he could help me?

A shocking glimpse of red reflects in the mirror over my shoulder, catching my eye, and I think I might throw up. I have to get away from my reflection. I bury my nose in the flowers for another moment, just to distract myself, and then flop face down on my bed. I was sure I couldn’t cry anymore today, but soon I burst into tears. My fingertips light on the note from the bouquet in my bed, hidden under my pillow—and it still holds the scent of the silver cat—or maybe only the memory of his scent—and that pushes me over the edge. 

I weep quietly into my pillow until I cry myself to sleep.

“Konoe.”

A gentle hand brushes through my hair and touches my ear. 

“My gods. Konoe, wake up. It’s almost time for dinner, and you missed lunch.”

"What have they done to him!? What the hell is this?” 

That voice—I know that voice. It doesn’t usually sound so upset—in fact, usually, it sounds cheery and sunny, not like this... dark and angry. But it feels like I haven’t heard it in years.

I open my eyes and see bright blue ones staring back at me, and a mop of orange hair and fur blocking my view.  

“Tokino?” I’m a little hoarse from crying, but I’m so glad to see him! “Tokino! Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

“Ah—I just got started off here on the wrong foot,” he says sheepishly. “But more importantly, what the hell has happened to you? Holy crap, Konoe! Someone beat the shit out of you! Are you all right?”

It takes a few moments to gather my wits, but I barely remember anything when I first wake up. As soon as I feel a cool evening breeze on my burning hot skin—which is obviously bare—however, and Tokino and Aoba are both in the room with me, and neither of them is looking at my face, my memories come flooding back. My ears and cheeks heat up as hot as my ass. 

“Oh, gods—please—don’t—um, please, don’t, um,” I try turning over to hide but that will expose the rest of me, and when I pull my shirt down, I end up hurting my injured skin.

“Take it easy, Konoe,” Tokino says. “It’s all right! Just—try to take it easy!” 

“Gods—was this Arbitro?” Aoba asks. His voice is quiet. “Did he assign you to be an entertainer?” His hand is lifted to his mouth in horror.

“Um, yeah,” I say. I’m surprised he knows, actually.

“Ah—I’m so sorry. I won’t tell anyone. But you can’t let them see this—don’t let anyone see this. You’ll be a sitting duck! When is your debut?”

“The next party, I think.” 

“In less than two weeks?” Aoba asks, amazed. 

“Is that bad?” I ask. 

“Um, do you know what it means?” Aoba asks. 

“N-not really,” I stammer. “No one will tell me anything! And I was given a horrible, weird, invasive exam today—”

“Oh, yeah—Ah—well,” Aoba looks down. “Don’t worry too much. You have a nice admirer already. He sent you flowers, right? And you, um, like him, right?”

I flush up to my ears.

“He was kind to me,” I say defensively.

“Konoe, liking someone is a good thing,” Aoba says. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. And you’re really lucky if it’s the cat I think it is.”

“Lucky?” 

“He doesn’t play around much, which makes me think he really will be kind to you. And if he’s serious, he won’t let you go to anyone else—at least no one cruel.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re making it sound like Konoe’s going to be auctioned off or something,” Tokino says, teasing lightly. 

"Well, that’s basically the idea. Or at least his virginity will be.” Aoba sounds serious. Much too serious. 

“My [his] virginity?!” Tokino and I both exclaim in unison. I sit up, wincing as I do so, but I can’t help myself. This is crazy! “They can’t do that! This is a free country and I’m no slave!” I protest.

“Konoe, who is paying your tuition here?” 

“I’m here on scholarship,” I say—then, it feels like something heavy hits my stomach. I shoot Aoba a desperate look. “You can’t mean—”

“You will be paying your own way here, and you’re lucky you’re young and pretty.” 

Again, there’s that word. Lucky! Nothing about this is lucky! 

“What the hell? He’s going to be auctioned off—no—his virginity is going to be auctioned off? This is my precious friend, Aoba! And why have they beaten him like this? Konoe—your skin—this looks excruciating—and I heard you were strapped two days ago, too? What is going on?”

A small sob hitches in my throat—I’m parched and on the border of hysteria. Aoba gives me a fresh glass of water.

“Look. This is to keep him under control. Virus and Trip will do anything to crush your will and your spirit, to make you comply, make you think you don’t have a choice, discourage you from running—and if you try to run, my gods, you will make it so much worse for yourself! So please, promise me you won’t!”

I look up at Aoba—and he has a wild look in his eye as if he knows what he is talking about.

“How did you know all this?” 

“I, um, I...” Aoba’s eyes wander from mine for a second before meeting my gaze firmly. “I have first-hand experience with it, Konoe. I am also a charity case here, which is why you are rooming with me. I am also an entertainer. They expect you will be, um, safe with me.” 

“What?” Both Tokino and my ears flatten as we ask in unison. 

“My first sponsor was kind, too,” Aoba says. “My second was a little rougher, so it can vary quite a lot—but if your first experience is good, you will be all right. And if you gained the silver cat’s interest, you’re in luck.” 

“Why?” I ask. 

“He’s rich. He has plenty of money to spend on you. You’ve already gained lots of interest. I heard the innkeeper called about you, too.” 

“Bardo did? Why?” I swallow nervously. 

“You caught his interest, as well, as well as some of his clients. It’s a good thing.”

“No, it isn’t!” I protest. “I don’t want to gain ‘interest,’ as you call it!” 

“What you don’t seem to understand, Konoe, is that you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Aoba hisses. “If you disobey, it will be even worse for you. If you try to escape, you will make it worse for yourself.”

“It can’t get worse, Aoba! Don’t you see me?”

“I do, in fact, see you, Konoe, and believe me, yes, it can!” Aoba says. “It can get much worse, and it will, probably. Imagine, for example, if Arbitro gained significant interest in you.”

My entire body starts to shake and quiver uncontrollably and tears flood my eyes. I get short of breath and my throat closes off—a strange wheezing sound escapes my throat. Arbitro coming back here to see me specifically is a horror I can’t imagine—but him touching me?! Oh, my gods!

“Aoba—Stop—you’re really upsetting him! There’s something really wrong! He can’t breathe!” 

“He needs to understand the situation he is in!”

Both Aoba and Tokino sound very far away, and someone is touching my ears, brushing them softly, trying to soothe me, but it doesn’t help. “It will be so much worse if he pisses them off or tries to escape—I mean, you know! Make him understand!” 

“Konoe, just breathe—in through your nose, out through your mouth. I’m right here with you.” I recognize Tokino’s familiar voice and it soothes me—and I obey, breathing slowly as he instructs, his familiar scent calming me. Then he whispers, “I’m by your side and I won’t let them take you. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” 

A part of my heart aches when I hear these words because I know he can’t make that promise—I know he can’t possibly keep this promise—but it touches me that he says the words anyway.

“So calm down. Just breathe. You’re okay. Everything is all right.” In a quiet whisper, he continues, “I’ll get us out of here yet.” 

A foreboding shiver travels down my spine and into my tail—lighting up the welts on my ass and thighs as it shudders through my skin, making my fur stand on end. A small sigh leaking from my mouth in response, and I press my lips together.

“Let’s get you dressed. You need to eat something. Come on. We will help you.”

I feel numb as the two cats help me to dress—and I wince as the clothes touch my raw skin. I can’t even look at Aoba’s pitying face. I know he heard what Tokino said, and he pities us—both of us. I know I don’t have a choice. He is right—this could be much, much worse.

Chapter Text

Dinner goes as expected—I eat with the other students, receiving several odd sideways glances, I notice, which is unexpected. I immediately worry that they have heard about my status as an entertainer. If they have, I wonder if I’m in their sights and if they have it out for me.

Also, Trip is oddly hanging around my table as well—and Noiz, the boy who helped me during PE, is sitting with us this evening.

“Where have you been all day?” Noiz asks. “Are you a charity case like Aoba?” He has a strange grin on his face.

“Um, no,” I lie unconvincingly. I see Aoba kicking Noiz under the table.

“What?” Noiz asks Aoba sharply. “You know he will be loads of fun after the first social. He can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, as long as no one finds out—just like you did, you know?”

“Yeah, and it’s why I have my own room now, too,” Aoba says. “You should stay away from him. The headmaster already has it out for him. Don’t make it worse.”

“I’d never make anything worse. Hell, I’m on your side!” Noiz purrs, looking at me. “I thought you took great notes in class the other day. Such great notes even to my distraction!”

“Noiz, shut up,” Aoba says again. “You were just staring at his ass! You shouldn’t just say everything that comes to mind. He’s brand new, and they are making him appear at the next social, the weekend after next.” 

“Oh, shit,” Noiz says. “Are you really a virgin?”

“What the hell kind of conversation is this over dinner?” snaps Tokino, noticing my red cheeks and pink ears. “Give it up! Come on! Give the poor guy a break!”

“I know, but I know he earned himself some kind of beating earlier just from how he’s sitting. I can’t wait until showers tonight! We’ll all be able to see everything!”

I start to feel very nervous. I don’t know what to do. In fact—what am I supposed to do? I look at Aoba, who shrugs his shoulders, and then to Tokino, who’s giving Noiz a death glare. 

“Just—I’ve had a really rough couple of days,” I say quietly. “The school is not what I expected.” 

“Ho? Do I hear complaining?” A low voice rumbles in my ear—it’s Trip hanging over me. He makes all my fur stand on end. I duck my head fearfully and get an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach when I remember Virus’ statement about him putting his fingers in the hopefully proverbial pie.

“Ah—no,” I say. “N-not c-complaining. J-just h-homesick?” It’s both desperate and a lie, but what other choice do I have?

“Finish your dinner already?” Trip looks at my plate, and I’ve eaten about half of my meal so far. “Great. Get up. You’re coming with me.”

“N-no!” I protest anxiously. “I-I c-can’t! Please!”

But I can’t resist him, since he yanks me up out of my seat by my arm and pulls me along behind him. 

“You don’t get to refuse. You also need to learn obedience if you’re going to be at the social next week. When a guest invites you to come along with him, your response will be ‘yes, sir,’ or ‘thank you for the invitation, sir,’ and you will comply immediately. None of this resistance I am seeing now.”

“B-but Virus said—”

“Virus asked me to fetch you,” Trip huffs. I’m pulled roughly down the hallway past Virus’ office to a room I’ve never been to before, where Trip knocks.

“Come.” With some relief, I hear Virus’ voice behind the door.

I’m pushed inside the room. It’s opulent, similar to the room in which I was beaten earlier today, only in shades of black, white, and gray. There are a lit fireplace and a sofa, where Virus is currently seated, drinking a glass of red wine, a chair, and a small bar. I look around and see a small desk, dressing table, wardrobe, and a large bed—decked out in fine black sheets in a variety of textures—ranging from fur to silk. The floor is a grey wood, slightly distressed and very clean, with several plush carpets covering the space. The drapes are heavy velvet, darker gray and white chiffon layers. The walls are covered in black and white striped wallpaper.

“Welcome, Konoe. Have a seat, my dear.”

“Sir? Have I done something to displease you?” I ask, rather helplessly.

“Not yet. If you had, I would have had you bring that hairbrush with you.”

“Oh, yes, sir.” I look down at my feet.

“Have a seat. Here, next to me.” Virus pats the couch, the seat next to him.

I hustle over to the couch, quickly taking a seat, looking up at the fire nervously. My ears twitch every time the flame cracks and pops.

“Have a glass.” I’m handed a glass of red wine. I already know I don’t care for the taste, but was told it would be rude to refuse it. So I accept it and take a tiny sip.

“Thank you, sir.”

“That is all, Trip,” Virus says dismissively. Trip gives Virus a strange look, almost jealously. “He’s valuable merchandise. I can’t risk anything happening to him between now and the social. I’m keeping an eye on him.”

Trip slips out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with Virus. I’m very nervous being left alone with Virus, though I’d be more nervous alone with Trip.

“Just relax,” Virus says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just didn’t like how those other students were talking to you. I didn’t think they’d leave you alone. So for now, you’re safer here with me than being cornered in the showers, don’t you think?”

“Of course, sir. I would like to bathe, though.” I am dying to bathe—to get the feeling of that other cat’s hands and scent off of me.

“You may use my private chamber for that. But I thought I’d train you a little further first. Do you know what will be expected of you—once you are alone with whoever purchases you for the night during the social?”

“Um, sir? I assume good conversation and obedience?” I take a guess. 

“In theory, you’re correct, but it involves taking off your clothes, which you have a history of reluctance doing. So I thought getting you some practice might help. It’s possible that whoever buys you will strip you himself, but sometimes your buyer might want to watch you remove your own clothing, willingly. If that’s the case, do you think you can obey—in that regard?”

I think for a moment. If it were the silver cat, and he asked with that silky soft voice of his, I think I wouldn’t be able to refuse. But if it were someone else, I would indeed have a hard time.

“As I expected,” Virus says. “So finish your wine and then strip for me.”

I finish the wine, choking it down. I find the taste less unpleasant than the last time I had it. This is probably because of what is coming next. The prospect of taking off my clothes in front of Virus—again—is very intimidating. I’ve done it before—lowered my pants for a punishment—but I’m filled with shame and can feel heat rising in my cheek and my ears already. And damn, I should have taken more time with the wine.

Looking up just briefly, confirming he is watching—and he is, over the rim of his glasses and the top of his wine glass—I lower my eyes in mortification and slip off my boots and socks.

“Sir? Where shall I put my clothes?”

“Oh—in a neat pile on the chair over there.”

He indicates a chair across from me, so I will have to stand up. I do stand up, but I put my boots on the floor in front of the chair, simply folding the socks and putting them in the pile. Taking a deep breath, I unbutton my vest and slip it off, fold it in half and add it to the pile. Then, I remove my belt, and add it to the pile as well. With trembling fingers, I fumble with the buttons on my trousers, and slide them off my hips, not once looking up at Virus. I fold the trousers neatly and add them to the chair as well. I untie my tie, draping it over my trousers, and then unbutton my collar and shirt sleeves, then work open the buttons my shirt. I pause for a moment once my shirt is off, standing in my undershirt and underwear, my face blushing, my tail drooping, my ears lowered in shame, and I peek up at Virus.

“Very good so far. Keep going, please.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I strip off my undershirt overhead, leaving it on top of my pile of clothes and then I turn around to slip off my underwear. Virus makes a small gasp when I slip out of my underwear. 

“I’d quite forgotten Arbitro paid you a visit today. You are quite a mess back there, poor kitten. I’ll see to your treatment after your shower. But first, come see me—just as you are.”

I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. I’m standing only six feet from Virus now. If I disobey, I’m sure to earn myself additional punishment. But I don’t want him to touch me!

“Why do you hesitate? Do you think I won’t punish your disobedience if you delay? I said, come here? I’ll have you fetch your hairbrush in the nude!”

The thought fills me with horror and my feet move on their own. I walk over to were Virus is sitting, standing before him—letting my fluffed up tail wave in front of my private parts.

“You are a gorgeous creature, Konoe. I am considering displaying you nude for your debut.”

A small gasp comes out of my mouth.

“Please—don’t!” I beg desperately.

“I think you’d fetch more for your opening price this way.”

“Please—I will learn a skill! I will do anything! Please—just let me try!”

“But you look gorgeous just like this, as you are—really at your finest. Perhaps with a collar? Let our customers’ imagination run wild with what they might do with you—a feral kitten as yourself.”

“Please! Anything else but that! I will learn to dance or sing! A-at home, I-i w-would often s-sing.”

“Sing? Well, you can sing for me, perhaps, and that might change my mind.”

“It’s a special kind of song,” I try to explain. “I would sing when I would get hurt or when I was afraid or lonely—songs to express an emotion or need—I haven’t done it here or in some time, but I will learn how again.”

“Really?” Virus looks interested, though he is petting my tail rather fondly—right at my hips. It’s intimidating. He’s frightening me. “You won’t sing for me right now?”

“I-in the sh-shower,” I say, trying to pull away. “Where is your bathing chamber?” 

“Just through the mirrored door,” Virus says.

The full-length mirror is actually a door, much to my surprise. My reflection shocks me—I look exactly like a whore! With my fur fluffed out on my tail and ears, my skin flushed, my pupils dilated in fear, those things together make me look full of desire. I barely recognize myself.

I push the door open—and I hear Virus say, “Leave it open, please. I’d like to hear you.”

Now I have to see if I can figure out how to sing. The bathing room is lovely—a smaller but more elaborate version of the boys’ room upstairs. I rinse myself off in the shower, washing my hair, condition it, and soap up my body, wincing when the soap touches my ass or my thighs. I can see my reflection everywhere—there are mirrors on all the walls. It’s a little disgusting, I think. I can see marks from the hairbrush on my ass—bruises and welts—and it’s awful.

I feel helpless. As I try to process my feelings—the only thing that comes to mind is helplessness. Well, other than anger. And a small light ignites in my chest. If the silver cat were here, I would sing to him. I’d sing, “Help me—save me—get me out of here. I’d give my life to you if you would get me out of here.”

And that is the song the spills from my body. It is a song without words, and it doesn’t come out of my mouth. It comes from my body, vibrating in my bones, my flesh, across my skin. As I’m rinsing the soap from my skin, conditioner from my hair, the room glows with a familiar soft warm light—helpless, hopeless, and angry—my song floats in the air.

And I see Virus standing at the door, and his eyes light up, mouth gaping. He simply watches me sing for some time—till my song is done and has sapped all my energy, which it often does, leaving me helpless on the floor of the shower. Good thing I wasn’t singing in the bath, since I might drown in there! 

“Oh, my gods,” Virus says, rushing in and helping me up, in awe. “You, little kitten, are a Sanga!”

Chapter Text

Virus’ excitement about this discovery—him calling me a Sanga is a surprise. I’ve been able to sing since I was a child, and it’s exhausting. But I’ve always thought all Ribika could do this, so I’ve never thought it was anything special. 

He has come into the shower, getting his clothing soaked, and his demeanor has changed completely. He actually has softened his facial expression, which is something that rarely changes, and Trip enters the room as well.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” He presses. “You could have saved yourself a world of hurt!”

Wait a minute! Is he saying he wouldn’t have belted me or punished me or sent me to Arbitro for that “evaluation” if he’d known I could sing like that? I find myself growling softly.

“Gods, are you growling at me? Put those fangs away, kitten, if you know what’s good for you!” Virus says calmly. “I said you could have saved yourself some trouble. But if you don’t behave yourself now, I will personally fetch that hairbrush from upstairs and we can continue the discipline session from earlier.”

“Was that him singing? I could hear him in the hallway! My gods!” Trip is saying. They are both helping me from the shower, and I wish I had something to cover me. I don’t like Trip’s hands wandering all over my body, even as he is pretending to dry me off. 

“It was. We have a real gem on our hands! Do you know how much the bounty hunter will pay for him now—and perhaps even permanently!? I’ve heard a Sanga is worth even more to the Touga if he is untouched. And now, we have to be even more careful with him. It’s got something to do with bonding, I think. The first Touga to bond with a Sanga has a chance of bonding permanently and creating a very powerful pairing. Even the fencing instructor may help increase his price by bidding against him.” 

“How do we prepare him?” Trip asks. 

My ears are pressed flat against my skull, and I am trying to hold my tail in front of my body for modesty—and I am very afraid, listening to this excited discussion about me and my worth as an auction item as I am brought over to the bed. My tail is soon moved unceremoniously from its secure place to be dried off with a towel roughly, leaving me feeling exposed and naked.

“Manners, dancing, etiquette—and we need it fast,” Virus is listing off items on his hands. “I want a stylist as well, and the best we can afford. Tomorrow is when those lessons have to start!” He glances at me. “Kitten, I know you’re tired, but your posture is consistently terrible! You are a complete disgrace! At least get up on your knees!”

“Sir, I can’t after I sing,” I try to explain, holding back tears, my ears drooping. “I lose my ability to function and become paralyzed. It’s always been this way. It’s why I don’t sing very often.” 

“Wait—completely paralyzed?” Trip asks, and he stops combing my hair for a minute and grabs my wrist. An unbelievably creepy sensation crawls up my arm. He lifts my arm up from the bed and lets it drop heavily. I can’t control it, so gravity pulls it back down to the bed. My ears twitch and my tail waves nervously—the only parts of me I can move. “Oh, my.” 

“Just like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White,” Virus says, touching his chin thoughtfully. “How long does this last?”

“I don’t really know, sir. I think it depends on the length of my song,” I say, wishing so much I could crawl away and hide.

“This could be quite a selling point. Maybe we don’t have him practice much, and have him sing just before or during the auction. This will make him more subdued and relaxed for the evening. It will keep him from injuring the client unnecessarily. Let’s see how he does the next few days,” Virus suggests, his hand crawling up my thigh. “He will be safe in here with me tonight. I’d like to see how long the Sleeping Beauty effect lasts. Brush out his hair and his fur, cover him up, and leave him. I’ll get those letters sent tonight so we will have the appropriate staff to start his training tomorrow.”

“Fine, but I don’t trust you with him,” Trip replies, and I’m nervous seeing him with a hairbrush anywhere near my body. “Tch! Stop this flinching! I’ll give you something to be afraid of!”

“He’s flinching?” Virus asks, watching me carefully. “Huh. I thought you couldn’t move. It’s mostly your eyes, ears, and tail more than anything, though, isn’t it?”

“I think my body can move reflexively, sir,” I say quietly. I am terrified of that hairbrush.

“He’s just brushing out your fur and your hair, which is quite lovely this length. I’d like to see it grow a bit longer. I wonder if the stylist can straighten it or give you some extensions. It would be even lovelier. Your fur is plush and full, and you need to groom it when it’s wet, don’t you? Won’t it mat if you don’t?”

“Um, yes, sir,” I say timidly.

“Then, unless you want me to lick you, let Trip use the brush,” Virus suggests.

“I wouldn’t mind using my tongue and my claws,” Trip says slyly.

“Either way. Just make sure it doesn’t mat,” Virus says, apathetically, looking down at the papers on his desk. He starts writing letters.

“Um—please—use the brush, please!” I beg. But I’m too late.

Trip is hovering his large body above mine on the bed—and I am still naked from the shower. I feel his hand tilting my head just so, so he can reach my ears, and then I feel his tongue taking long, grooming strokes across the fur on my ears. It feels disgusting and intrusive—I hate it! But strangely, it also sends shivers down my spine. I don’t remember feeling like this before—except the one time that silver cat—Rai—licked my ear. And I liked that. But this is horrible!

“Please!” I beg. “Please, won’t you use the brush?”

He lowers his body—which is still fully dressed, but his clothes are cold and wet from pulling me out of the shower—onto mine, which is dry and trying to get warm, and I shiver with revulsion. And he is getting Virus’ bed wet!

“Please—you’re getting me wet again!” 

Virus looks up from his work.

“Trip! If you’re going to do that, please refrain from soaking my sheets,” he says calmly. I assume this means Trip will stop and use the brush, but instead, he smiles as he moves away from me and starts stripping off his clothes.

“Of course,” he says, showing me his fangs. I unsuccessfully try to cower away from him, and a small whimper escapes my lips.

“Please—just—I’m tired,” I whine softly. “I just really want to rest.”

“I know, kitten. At the social, you will be required to entertain the cat who purchases you, even after you sing. So you might as well get used to it now.”

Trip is now naked and continues grooming my ears, pressing his body against mine—and it’s even more uncomfortable and intimidating. I am very afraid—even with (or maybe even because) Virus is in the same room since he isn’t saying anything. Trip's hands wander over my helpless, paralyzed body, and I can only growl.

“Konoe, don’t growl. It’s unseemly. If I hear you growl again, I won’t hesitate to punish you. I’d make you go upstairs and get the hairbrush yourself, but you are unable to move in your current state.”

“B-but I can’t even defend myself!” I implore him.

“That’s what makes you so irresistible,” Trip says quietly. 

It turns out that biting the inside of my cheek won’t suppress my growl and a tiny one leaks out again. 

“Ah. What did I just say?” Virus says, looking over at the bed. “Trip, I’m going to have to interrupt your grooming. And what the hell? His ears and hair are fine. You should move to his tail anyway. Put on some dry clothes while I fetch the brush from upstairs. Kitten, you should feel fortunate it’s so late, or I would make a spectacle of your discipline session. Your fellow students are already getting ready for bed. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Wait! Please! I-I couldn’t help it!” I beg.

“Begging is often adorable, kitten. But not when you are trying to get out of a punishment. Save it for when the punishment actually begins, sweetheart.”

A nauseated feeling comes over me—since my ass is still awfully bruised from Arbitro’s treatment. I don’t think I can take anymore! 

Plus, Trip is now dressed in a robe and loungewear, which he has pulled from Virus’ closet—he is a much larger cat than Virus, and I am surprised he has clothes that fit him in here. I wonder if they are a couple. Then he approaches me on the bed again, where I am weeping silently.

“No one has even touched you yet, and you are already crying? So sensitive!”

“I am still so sore from this morning!” I burst out. “Please! Don’t let him do this! I was only frightened and trying to protect myself!”

“Kitten—little Sanga—here’s the thing,” Trip purrs softly, kindly and gently stroking my chin, more familiarly than I would like, caressing my throat and chest. “Your body is no longer your own. You now belong to this school, and you will do as we command. If we tell you to submit to a particular cat, you will do so. In fact, right now, you can’t defend yourself—so why growl about it? You’re only expressing your displeasure, right? An empty threat does nothing! You couldn’t defend yourself from me, even if I were to take everything I wanted from you. Am I right?”

I look up at him fearfully, tears in my eyes. Is he threatening me? I nod.

“You need to realize it and accept it. You belong to this school. Your body, your pleasure, all of it, belongs to this school. In fact—perhaps that might be a good lesson to teach you as well. I’ll ask Virus when he returns. Maybe we can work it in with your punishment.”

My body is roughly turned over on the bed. 

“Oh, look at this! You are still incredibly raw! This is certainly going to hurt.” I whimper when I feel Trip's fingers tracing the bruises on my thighs and bottom.

“Please! Can’t you please—?” 

“Stop now. Didn’t you hear me?” Trip grabs my tail and starts grooming it, and it has the strangest effect on me. My fur bristles at once—perhaps because of the blood pooled by my injured skin. The touch of his rough tongue on my tail feels really good. And a small, pleasured sigh escapes my mouth before I can bite it back. I feel my ears filling with blood, and I am so ashamed.

“I see. This feels good, doesn’t it? Are you one of those kittens who is so inexperienced and starved for touch that he is sensitive pretty much anywhere?” My tail is given a soft tug and it's licked again. I can’t help it—it feels so good, and my dick stiffens. A small moan escapes my lips. “Interesting! You are going to be so much fun!”

To my shock, I feel Trip’s hand right at the base of my tail, rubbing my fur backward, and it spreads out across my ass, his fingertips deliberately caressing my entrance. I still don’t have movement restored, but the touch makes me reflexively arch my back. 

“Ah—what’s this now? Does that feel nice?” 

I'm embarrassed! I don't want it to feel nice! But another series of strange, embarrassing sounds escape. I want to cover my mouth with my hands and I can’t—they are stretched out to my sides, the way I have been posed on the bed. I am so frustrated, and I try to wave my tail around, try to free it from his grasp, but his touch really does feel nice.

“Just relax, kitten. I am trying to care for you,” he whispers. "I have your best interest at heart." And then, his tongue begins to groom me in earnest, taking longer and longer licks, lots of saliva, from the base of my tail going out toward the sensitive crooked tip. He continues massaging me at the base of my tail and letting his fingers tickle just below my tail. A strange fluttering sensation attacks my stomach, and my dick gets harder and harder. I can feel myself dripping into the sheets. My face is blushing and my ears are hot, and I know they are pink.

I also know that Virus is going to open the door any minute and show up with the implement to punish me, and I don’t want to be punished when I am feeling like this. I can’t even imagine what that might be like! Even thinking about it makes my dick harder, and that is even more disturbing— 

The door creaks open, and I can’t see him, but I can smell him. Trip doesn’t stop what he is doing, and I can’t stop the sounds coming from me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Virus’ voice is as cold as ice. 

“I’m just grooming his tail,” Trip says neutrally, in between licks. He has nearly reached the crooked part of my tail—my most sensitive part. My toes twitch, and my back arches a little more. His fingers do something a little more than tickle my entrance—they brush it deliberately. 

I know that males can have sex that way—but I fear it. I have never excited myself in that area nor touched myself there except for washing. But for some reason, his gentle touch is arousing me in a strange, strong way I cannot describe. I am purring and sighing and moaning softly, and I cannot suppress the sounds I am making, and I cannot get the thought of the silver cat out of my head. What if he were doing this to me? And I am so ashamed!

“Please—stop!” I beg again.

“What? You are going to tell me you dislike it?” Trip asks doubtfully. “It certainly doesn’t sound like you dislike it. And it doesn’t feel as though you dislike it. Virus, I haven’t even touched him and look!”

My body is suddenly rolled to the side, exposing my hard, dripping cock, and shameful tears spill down my face.

“Please!” I beg softly, now crying in earnest. I have never felt so humiliated—well, possibly only with Arbitro. But I am just so helpless, and my body is just responding all on its own and I can't move or defend myself.

“I’ve only just been grooming his tail and perhaps stroking him softly. He’s very responsive. I had an idea about his punishment, you see. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to teach him that his body isn’t his own.”

I’m rolled back to my stomach, and I’m somewhat relieved, but Trip keeps his hand moving on my tail.

“I’m s-sorry,” I plead, panting vulgarly. “I-I know I m-must obey you. I-I am s-sorry for g-growling!” My hips feel very heavy, and a loud moan escapes my mouth when Trip reaches the tip of my tail. I fail to bite it back.

“Kitten, do you enjoy having your tail groomed so very much? How delightful,” Virus says. “Trip, why don’t you move up just a bit? You can keep grooming, but move your hand, please.”

I feel the fluttering fingers move away from my behind and the base of my tail. It’s both a relief and also a slight disappointment, and then my ears flatten when something cold and solid presses against me right where his hands were. Trip is still sucking on the tip of my tail, and my dick is still just as hard and dripping, my abdomen clenches painfully.

“Konoe, you need to realize you belong to us now, and you will do exactly as we say. This is going to be painful. When we ask you to attend or entertain a client, you will not growl at him, but you will obey him. Growling is unseemly. He may wish to touch you and do things to you that you will not like, or that you may find them painful or excruciating. But it’s your job to submit. And not just submit—but to submit willingly.”

“B-but please—” I beg, my body starts to shiver uncontrollably. I can’t take another punishment today.

“I see your skin is terribly welted, and I don’t want to cause you permanent damage, kitten. But I do want you to understand what we are trying to teach you. Tonight, we are going to teach you how to submit willingly to even painful stimuli. All right? Your job is to relax—as you already are—and submit. Take a deep breath. Trust that I would never damage precious merchandise.”

Virus’ claws comb through the fur on my ears, the other is holding that horrible hairbrush against my ass. Trip is sucking on the tip of my tail and running his claws through the fur of my tail. I am trying not to gasp or sigh, and I am afraid. I feel Virus’ presence disappear from my body for a moment, and I squeeze my eyes close.

“Please!” I cry. 

Smack! It isn’t a hard smack, but it is definitely painful against my already bruised skin. The pain registers instantly and I cry out in a lewd-sounding sob. But in addition to the pain, a heavy sensation pools in my hips. It’s as if the blow has caused additional blood to rush to my groin, which is already racing with activity.

“Understand that you may never, ever growl at client, kitten,” Virus whispers.

Smack! This blow is softer than the first, and it is less painful. It was aimed directly at the spot where my ass and thighs meet, and a strong, tingling sensation shivers up into my spine and tail, which Trip is sucking roughly. Instead of a pained cry, the cry that comes from my mouth is more of a moan.

“You must learn to obey us in all things. We have your best interests at heart, kitten, and we will make you a success.”

Smack!

The third spank of the brush hits my thighs—this one is quite painful against the welted skin, but once the pain disperses, again, that strange tingling sensation shivers through my body and up my back, pooling in my groin. My dick is rock hard. And I am utterly confused. What is happening to me?!

“Even your body belongs to us now, kitten. When we punish you, we may sometimes reward you for your obedience when you perform to our satisfaction or on a whim.”

Smack! 

Another firm spank to my sit spot—and I cry out lewdly—and I cannot help myself. I can’t stand the strange mix of pain and arousal. My tail is still being roughly stimulated, and I feel like I can’t take anymore.

“Please—I think—please, I can’t help it—please,” I am begging, softly, almost in a whisper against the mattress.

“Are you getting close?” Trip asks, growling softly. “Don’t come without permission.”

I shiver in fear—another emotion added to the mix of confusion, pleasure, arousal, and pain. 

Smack!

My ass jiggles and this blow one rubs my cock against the mattress delightfully, making me moan in pleasure. My back arches, also making me present myself—even though my movement hasn't returned.

“Please—may I…?” I beg softly. I’m so afraid. What if I accidentally come without permission? What would they do to me then? How would I be punished?

Smack-smack-smack-smack!

I scream in agony—real agony—but also in pleasure and surprise—when the rapid succession of blows rains down on my ass, sit spot, and the insides of my thighs. Right after the brush hits me, I feel Virus’ hand rubbing me, hard, and a strange sound escapes my mouth—it is a moan mixed with pleading cries. I’m begging “please, please, please,” over and over.

The blows really sting on my welted skin, even if they weren’t very hard—and even touching my skin hurts, but pressing my body down against the bed has the effect of rubbing my cock against the mattress, and that feels so good I can hardly stand it. And at the same time, someone’s hand is at the base of my tail again, brushing over my entrance, making my stomach do little flips, and Trip is now nipping the sensitive tip of my tail, making me gasp.

Finally, I hear Virus say, “Go ahead, kitten.”

I think he says something else, too, perhaps about it not being humane to torture me forever, at least not tonight—but my mind blanches white, and I gasp and moan and my body explodes in pleasure. It gives a strange jerk, lifting off the bed—and I feel myself spilling into the sheets and onto my stomach. Pleasure and relief spill into my body the same way—from the center of my body into my limbs, my tail, even my ears.

My heart is pounding in my ears, and I feel such relief and so exhausted that fresh tears spill down my face. A strange sound like “ahhh” comes out of my mouth, and I relax into the bed, feeling soft and malleable, as though I'm part of the mattress itself. 

“Huh,” Trip says. “That was pretty damn sexy. I’ve never seen a cat who could come from having his tail licked.”

“Me either. Especially not while getting spanked,” Virus says. “I wonder if we want to display him a little less innocent than I originally planned.” 

My mind is hazy, and I’m not really paying attention when my body is turned over. I think I am being cleaned up, but I am so tired I’m not really aware of anything, not even my shame.

“We could have him sing, sure. But perhaps we could show off this tail sex talent of his during the auction?” Virus is saying. “Perhaps we could have another student up there with him—I’m thinking Aoba, perhaps. We don’t need to take him all the way, of course, since we want him hot and hard—except…”

“What?” Trip asks.

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, didn’t we decide the date of the next social because of the timing?”

“What about the timing?” Trip asks.

“I think it’s close to the season. He may go into heat. That would be perfect. He will smell even more enticing—and even if he did, you know, pop off in front of everyone, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He could just do it again. Probably right away. He’s young, after all. Once isn’t going to be enough. Today he’s exhausted. But he’s young.”

“Ah. I see. I’m just distracted imagining him up there with Aoba. That would be pretty hot, I think. He just looks like such an innocent thing—until you get him going, and then he’s not so innocent at all.”

“I know, right? I wonder how we dress him? Or if we dress him at all?”

My fur bristles when I realize I’m being spoken of this way. I dislike it immensely. I don’t know what to think. But I’m so exhausted, there’s nothing I can do anyway.

I’m cuddled up naked in a blanket on Virus’ bed, and I go to sleep while Virus continues writing his letters. I am asleep by the time Virus climbs into bed with me. I don’t notice him cuddling up next to me and grooming my ears gently before he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning starts earlier than I'd prefer and I wake a little grumpy. Virus insists on dressing me in a silk robe instead of my uniform, which feels strange against my skin. At least I’m wearing underwear underneath it, I suppose, but my feet are bare and I feel vulnerable. Also, he demands that I eat breakfast in his room rather than with the other students, which makes me nervous.

“It’s part of your training, Konoe. I will be teaching you how to serve the food. Please pay attention. There will be consequences if you don’t listen. You don’t have much time to learn, so this is important.” 

My ears twitch when he says “consequences,” of course, and my tail flicks around nervously. I understand exactly what he means, but I thought he said I was special since I could sing, so I don't understand why I have to do this.

He has me spread his napkin in his lap—and he is also wearing a robe. I really am not interested in him in that way. He shows me several times—whacking my knuckles with the handle of the butter knife when I don’t do it the way he wants me to. It is painful, but not nearly as painful as I expect "punishment" to be, quite frankly. So while I pay attention, I probably do not pay as much attention as he thinks I should. In fact, I start to find his instructions annoying when he complains about how I butter his toast. He catches me rolling my eyes at him when he makes me prepare him another piece of toast. I guess I didn’t spread the butter well enough?

“Konoe—you may think this is a joke, but it isn’t. Learning etiquette and manners is an essential part of your training and adds to your value here. I hope you don’t think you’re immune from corporal correction just because you can sing. You can sing just as easily whipped. Although, I think certain clientele will find slightly reddened cheeks more attractive. It will give them an idea of what they might do to you in the bedroom—how they might subjugate you and torture you. So I would suggest for the sake of your own survival that you pay a little bit closer attention. I won’t remind you again.” 

I find his lecture extremely annoying. I’m not sure what has come over me, but I’m really not interested in hearing it. I might even click my tongue in response. 

“Your expression and that sound—that is not submissive at all, kitten.” Virus puts down his knife and fork with a soft clink. Of course, it isn’t. I am not interested in submitting. “Go upstairs to your bedroom and fetch your hairbrush, please. You have two minutes.”

I sigh heavily and stand up from the table. I'm very glad to get out of here.

“If you take longer than two minutes, you will be very, very sorry,” Virus warns.

I stomp out of the room. I do, in fact, head upstairs to my room. It’s deserted. The other students are at breakfast right now, I guess. But instead of fetching that nasty hairbrush, which is waiting murderously on my dresser, I spend some time admiring the lovely vase of flowers on my vanity. It’s still really gorgeous and fragrant. I bury my nose in it, and then I remember the note.

I look under my pillow and it’s still there. Looking at the elegant script, I hold it up to my nose. I can’t smell the silver cat’s scent on it anymore, but I can still remember the clean, fresh scent, and also how he licked my ear and kissed my hand. I sit down on my bed, close my eyes, bury my nose in the notecard, and relax when Trip bursts into my room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His low voice growls loudly and scares the shit out of me. All my fur bristles and my fangs bare. I also reflexively draw my claws.

“What’s this then?” He snatches the note from my hand.

“Give it back! It’s mine!” Really—it’s the only thing I own here, the only thing I value, and I hate to see another cat even touching that note—especially him!

“Ah, it's from the silver cat. How sweet. Unfortunately, you’ve been caught in the act of deliberate defiance, kitten, which is bad for you, but good for me. So, now you get to see what happens to students when they don’t follow the rules. Come with me.”

“Get your hands off me!” I yell, but he grabs my ear, and it hurts. I have to stand up, and he throws the note carelessly on the floor. I also happen to see him take the hairbrush from the dresser. 

“Bring it with, as Virus told you to do.” He pushes it into my hands, but I refuse to take it from him.

“No!” I growl. I’ve been humiliated enough! The last thing I want to do is fetch the implement for my punishment myself. To my surprise, the hand pinching my ear lightens for a moment, and Trip crouches down a little, leveling his face with mine. 

“Oh, are you in for it now, kitten! You’ve no idea what you’ve got coming to you. If you want to make it worse, I can carry the brush. But I suggest you take it yourself. What’s it going to be? This is your last chance.”

“Hell no,” I growl again. I look down, refusing to meet his eyes—and also forgetting that I am not in my uniform. That brush comes down hard on the backs of my thighs—through the thin silk of the robe I am wearing—and makes a loud smacking sound. It nearly makes my knees buckle it hurts so much! I cry out loud—my skin is still sore from yesterday, and I am shocked he hit me right here.

“Now will you take it?” 

“Fuck no!” I yell, angry as hell.

Smack! Even harder, Trip spanks me again—I am standing up, so he catches my thighs and my ass in one blow while still pinching my ear, and I scream in pain.

“Ah! Fuck!”

“That language is unseemly for an Applebaum student and will earn you extra,” Trip says, low and quiet in my ear. “Are you ready to carry the hairbrush on your own?”

Tears have spilled from my eyes and I am sobbing now, trying to catch my breath and get him to let go of me. This is unreal, and I can't do this.

“Y-yes,” I say quietly, defeated. I hold out my hands, which are trembling, and I take the hairbrush, completely humiliated.

“Good boy,” Trip says. “I was spanking you pretty hard, but it can get worse. Now come along.” He continues to drag me by my ear, out of my room and down the hall, and I nearly fall down the stairs. 

“Please!” I beg. “My ear—please!”

“You have earned this,” Trip says. “Delayed obedience is disobedience. Virus said two minutes, and you took more than twice that time. When I came in, you were nowhere near obeying his instructions. Today, we are going to teach you what happens when you don’t submit.”

Once we reach the lobby, my ear finally released, and my hand goes up to rub it immediately. But I don't get a chance to rest. I’m pushed through a small door off the side of the stairs—which brings me to another set of steep stairs leading up that I’ve never seen before.

“Go,” Trip commands.

I head up the three flights of stairs and through a door into a small room—it’s awfully damp and chilly—no natural light except for a few cracks close to the ceiling. I realize this is the turret that can be seen at the front of the building. 

“What is this place?” I ask. It's creepy in here and I shiver.

“It’s not for you to ask but for you to learn,” Virus says quietly. He's been waiting. “And for us to teach. You will not survive as an entertainer if you click your tongue and roll your eyes at your first client—even if it is that indulgent silver cat. Not even he will put up with your bullshit. And I’m going to show you what happens when you refuse to submit. Today will be an unpleasant day for you, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s probably a good idea to teach you what will be expected of you anyway.”

My heart starts racing in my chest, and it feels like it will pound right out of my mouth. 

“Kneel,” Virus says.

“What are you going to do to me?” The words spill out from my lips and my body won’t move or obey. I’m frozen with fear—forget fight or flight!

“I just told you. We are going to force your submission. I also just told you to kneel.”

The hairbrush is taken from my hands and Virus smacks my ass—and it hurts! I scream in response to the pain—but I still can’t seem to obey.

“What seems to be the problem, kitten?”

“I-I’m afraid!” I cry. “P-please—d-don’t h-hurt me!”

My thighs are smacked with that brush again—hard—and my knees squeeze together in an attempt to keep the pain from creeping down any lower. It hurts so much!

“Kneel, and you won’t be spanked anymore. Just submit, kitten,” Virus says, his voice calm and gentle. He pushes my shoulders and Trip pushes the backs of my knees, and I fall into a kneeling position. “That’s not so bad, is it?” 

Tears are streaming down my face. I am terrified. I shouldn’t have disobeyed in the first place. What was I thinking? What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is going to be so much worse than anything done to me so far!

“I-i’m s-so sorry,” I stammer, looking up at Virus. “I m-made a m-mistake. I-I shouldn’t h-have d-disobeyed or d-delayed or m-messed up at b-breakfast. I w-was c-confused.” I add my slowest, longest, most seductive flutter of my lashes when I offer this most sincere confession, thinking this has to be enough to get me out of this. “M-maybe y-you c-could p-punish m-me a-and I c-could t-try again?”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” Virus says sweetly. “I’m sorry to say, as sweet as this confession of yours is. Keep this look, though. It’s nice on you. Put your hands behind your back, please.”

My heart is still thumping crazily in my chest and ringing loud in my ears, and I obey—without hesitation. I can’t make this any worse, I’m sure. The moment my hands are behind me, I feel something heavy and wooden clamp over the top of my wrists and then the bottom of them as well. The contraption is then connected to my ankles, so I am unable to move from the spot on the floor, stuck in this kneeling position. I feel suddenly claustrophobic and petrified.

“Trip and I are going to show you what your life will be like if you were to continue the disobedience form this morning. Now. Open your mouth for me, please.”

I obey, meekly—frightened to death. Virus gives me some sort of pill. It’s got a slight minty flavor to it. Then he holds up a glass of water to my mouth.

“Swallow.”

I’m frightened of what is being done to me, but if I disobey I'm sure I'll make the situation worse. What am I being given? What is this? A drug of some kind? My body is quivering slightly.

“That will make you more compliant. You’d be given such drugs daily until you responded of your own accord. And you would probably serve at another establishment. If you ever refused to serve, you’d be punished. Now, because it’s your first day, we will go easier on you.”

I have no idea what is expected of me, and I stare up at Virus, then glance over at Trip.

“He looks nice like this, doesn’t he? Let’s open that robe a little, huh?” Trip pulls the sash off my robe. It slides off my shoulders easily, slipping down my back to my wrists, exposing my shoulders, back, and chest. It’s slightly chilly in the room and I feel so vulnerable. I can't ever remember feeling so small.

“So, I will begin. It’s easier with someone dressed like I am. Undress me, Konoe,” Virus commands. 

I startle at his words. I can’t move at all, and I don’t have access to my hands. What the hell? How am I supposed to do that, restrained like this?

“B-but m-my hands—?”

“You don’t need them. Be creative,” he says. He steps a little closer to me—and I can tell he is aroused. Aroused? Wait. A violent shudder rushes through my body that makes me flinch. I suddenly realize what it is I will be expected to do, and I start to feel sick to my stomach. I can smell his scent and it's overpowering. My tail lashes and my ears flatten. My claws draw against the wooden restraint and I bare fangs rather uselessly.

“P-please—I d-don’t think I can—”

“Konoe, if you give me any excuses, you will be punished. Remember what happened the last time you delayed.”

Well, he can’t exactly spank me, can he, from how I’m sitting? I'm kneeling, for one. He doesn't have access to my ass. I’m pretty safe, I think, so I don’t make any moves.

“Last chance to comply,” Virus warns. And my last chance isn’t even two seconds.

A slim stick—a cane—flies out of nowhere down against the tops of my thighs, which are bare and unprotected. The blow is completely unexpected—and I startle at the sound. I also cannot move to protect myself. A second blow follows the first—and I look down at my lap, and two very slim red marks appear across the fair skin of my thighs. The welts appear at the same time as the pain registers and I scream in response. It feels like a burn—like the skin has been seared in small thin lines. My knees are pressed together and my toes are curled, my tail is quivering in pain, and I am sobbing quietly.

I am still trying to catch my breath when Virus says, “Konoe, delayed obedience is disobedience. I’m warning you. Undress me or I will have to punish you again.”

“Ah—um,” I stammer, and I lean forward immediately, trying to show that I am making an effort while still sobbing and unable to wipe my tears. I grab onto the sash of Virus’ robe with my teeth and pull it off, letting his robe fall open. He is also wearing underwear underneath, and again, I am made very aware of his arousal. It sickens me.

“Go on.”

Without looking up at him, I press my nose into his underwear and grab onto the waistband with my teeth, pulling it down, letting his erection spring free. I hear a soft gasp, almost like relief, when it does. 

“That’s enough. Just bare enough so you can put it in your mouth. Now, I saw your teeth just now. If I feel even a graze you will be punished and severely. Do you understand?"

When I do not respond, my chin is grabbed and my neck craned uncomfortably upward. Virus’ cool blue gaze pierces me, and my ears flatten.

“Do you understand me, kitten?” The smooth cane is pressed against the fresh welts on my thighs and I shudder.

“Yes, sir,” I murmur, tears burning in my eyes. 

“Now. It’s proper etiquette to start slowly, seductively. It’s fine to be shy, but a little eye contact can be sexy. Try licking it first.” 

I obey, revulsion flooding my body—but I don’t see that I have a choice. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment and purse my lips—just for a moment to prepare myself—and thwack! Another punishing blow flies down against the skin of my thighs. 

The tears burning in the back of my throat actually burst from my eyes and leak down my cheeks, along with another yelp and helpless sob.

“Please!” I cry out. “Just—I need a moment!”

Thwack!

“You need to obey, kitten. Open your mouth before I show you how it’s done forcefully. We can do it that way, too.”

I keep my lips closed, disobediently—unwilling to do this. I have taken off his clothes and he is right here in my face—but I just can’t bring myself to do this! I just need a minute. I am too disgusted! I'm going to be sick!

“Please!” I beg again.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

In rapid succession, three blows rain down on my lap, and I’m screaming and sobbing, unable to contain my tears. The fresh welts appear faster and burn hotter than the earlier ones since my nerves are already raw and excited.

“We will do this the hard way, then,” Virus says, still calm, grabbing my hair. I’m still sobbing from pain—my thighs are red and welted. “Make sure to relax your jaw.”

My mouth is open from sobbing, and he shoves his dick in my mouth. I cough and choke, utterly disgusted, but he just fucks me using my mouth as a hole, ignoring my distress completely.

“This would be easier on you if you’d cooperate, kitten. Relax,” he murmurs, and he uses one hand to rub the outside of my jaw. I try my best to relax, but I am sobbing and agony, afraid I might suffocate—choking and coughing, and my vision is going gray.

“Oy, Virus, I think you’re hurting him,” Trip says. 

“He’s fine. I’m teaching him a lesson,” Virus says, and his breath is getting heavier. “Use your tongue a little, kitten. It will go easier on you if you do.”

I try to do as he asks, but sticking out my tongue makes me choke more. I feel like I am going to throw up—and I start gagging now.

“Such a drama queen, you are,” Virus says, between panting breaths. “Just relax, for gods’ sake." 

The entire ordeal can’t last that long, but it feels like an eternity to me! Eventually, he comes—releasing in my mouth—right in the back of my throat. I choke on it, tempted to spit it out but terrified of what he'd do to me if I did, and am left wheezing. He finally pulls out and it feels really good to be able to breathe again.

“Trip, I know you want a turn but he needs to learn a little lesson about this drama act first. Release him from the restraints.”

The heavy wood drops off my wrists and ankles while Virus pulls on his robe. I feel relieved to be released from those heavy restraints.

“Stand up.”

I obey, my legs shaking. 

“Get over to that wall and grab onto the third rung.”

There is weird kind of a ladder on the wall, and I obey—holding onto the ladder as instructed.

“Now, bend over and spread your legs so you can withstand the blows. I’m sorry to do this to you, kitten, but that was terrible. Any client would punish you for that performance, and if I’d heard you’d done such a thing to a client, I’d punish you for your behavior as well. You made me feel like you abhorred me.”

That's because I did actually abhor him. And unfortunately, I don’t do as instructed. In fact, I turn around and drop to my knees and beg and plead. 

“Please! I can’t! I just can’t take anymore! I can’t do this! Please!”

“Kitten, get up and obey. Your punishment will be worse if I have to force you.”

My entire body is shaking. What is this? Why are they doing this to me? I am so discouraged and I cannot make myself obey! 

“Please! No! I’m begging you!”

“I hear you. And this is for your own good, kitten. Trip, please give our trainee a hand.”

Trip walks up to me, strips off my robe, and lifts me off the floor. I am wailing at this point—still begging and crying, but I stay standing. He puts my hands where I was instructed, bending me over and petting my ass, as fat tears roll down my face. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Now, stay just like this.” He pushes my legs together for a minute and I feel the whoosh of my underwear being stripped from my body—leaving me completely bare.

“Ah—n-no—please! I-i’m s-sorry—I-i c-couldn’t—I-i—”

“I know, I know,” Trip soothes me, and he strokes my tail gently. He spread my legs apart. “You’ll need a wider stance so you can withstand the blows. We don’t want you to faint, since we aren’t finished with the lesson, but we do need you to understand that we’re serious here.”

“Your performance was unseemly and unacceptable, Konoe,” Virus says, and his voice is terribly close to my ear. “I know it was your first time, but you need to be more compliant. What if I had been the silver cat? Would you have treated him like that?”

A little shiver rushes through my body at the thought. Will he expect that from me? Will I have to take him in my mouth? Will he fuck me like that? My gods. What if he doesn't use my mouth? Shit! Is that my job here? My gods!

“He may in fact expect exactly that from you—in thanks for those flowers he sent. You’d best prepare yourself. And the best way to prepare yourself is to practice, kitten. Get used to it. Relax your jaw and get used to it. But first, I am afraid we need to punish you for that atrocity.”

“P-please,” I sob quietly.

“I think ten should suffice. I will be pleased with ten. I’d like you to count.”

Count? Count what? I can barely breathe. I'm too preoccupied with the idea of the silver cat wanting to fuck me to think of anything else. It scares the living shit out of me!

“I’ll begin again if I see a hand back here or if you move from that position. Or if you fail to count. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Sir, please!” I am so confused I don't know what is going on, but I am afraid to let go of the rung of the ladder where Trip placed my hand.

“Is ten not enough for you? Then move your tail.”

“Um, if it pleases you, sir,” I say quietly, and I lower my ears, curling my tail up out of the way.

The first blow—it’s the cane—comes down across the fullest part of my ass, and I can feel the welt rising up on my skin. It burns a sharp, clear, stinging line—making the flesh around it jiggle. I cry out loud, of course, in response. Oh! Right. He wants me to count each blow!

“One,” I manage, after getting my sobs under control.

“One what?” Virus asks, and he lands another blow, right after, slightly lower.

“Ah!” Tears still spill from my eyes. “One, sir?” I ask softly, wiggling my hips a little, wanting so much to rub out the pain but being unable to touch anything but that rung on the ladder.

“Excellent, kitten.”

Smack!

The next comes down on my sit spot—and this one makes me scream in pain, crying tears right after. This pain wraps around to my groin and hurts so much more than the blows on my cheeks.

“Two! Sir!” 

Thwack! 

After a short pause, the next lands across the top of my thighs, just below my sit spot. And if my sit spot stung and burned, this one stings even more, making me lift both my feet and stomp them slightly.

“Mmmm! Three, sir!” He lets the pain sink in for a moment before I hear the whistle of the cane sailing through the air.

Smack!

Another blow to my ass, which stings, but these are much less intense to the ones applied lower on my body. I'm almost thankful for this blow.

“Four, sir,” my voice is still covered in tears.

Right after, smack, smack!

“Ah! Five and six, sir!”

And fresh tears spill with these—as these were applied to my thighs and sit spot. I keep my feet in place and try not to move my hands. I want so much to squeeze my legs together, but I have to maintain my position. My tail is flapping around aimlessly, helplessly, however, and my groin feels like it’s on fire. Strangely, my groin feels like it’s filling with blood.

Thwack! Thwack! 

Two more exceptional cruel blows to my thighs—and I scream in pain—unable to breathe for a moment—and I’m wheezing. I actually have moved my legs together after these blows. I can't help it!

“Maintain your position, kitten,” Virus warns.

“Ah—hah—Um, seven and eight, sir?” 

Smack, smack!

And two more to my ass and sit spot—the one to my sit spot makes me nearly lose my balance, and I straighten out my back for just a moment, and my tail stretches out above my body, bristling straight up.

“Your position, Konoe,” Virus says firmly.

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir! Nine and ten, sir!” I'm so glad I'm finished!

“Hmm. I’m not entirely satisfied,” Virus says. 

“Please, sir,” I say, still maintaining my position. “Please.” I beg, arching my back slightly.

“Accept a penalty then. No counting is necessary.”

I see the cane fall to the floor by my feet, and I’m relieved. But when I feel Virus step up beside me and press his hand to the small of my back, I become terrified. What is he going to do?

“I want you to relax your muscles and just accept this penalty,” he says. Something heavier and cool is pressed against my welted ass. My gods, it’s the damned hairbrush!

“Please,” I beg. “Please!” I want to scream no, but I know better. The tears are coming before the blows begin. 

One cheek then the other, he smacks them hard and then even harder—each blow overlapping the next, covering the welts from the cane—and I yelp in pain, trying my best not to tighten my muscles or flinch. He covers my entire ass and then goes down the length of my thighs, alternating each one and then goes back up—even covering the insides of my thighs—which makes me cringe and feel sick to my stomach.

In some ways, this is even worse than the caning, because I see no end in sight. I am nearly broken when he is finished with me. My fur is a mess and my body is even worse.

But I am not begging him to stop. I am in tears and I am very, very sorry. And I am very, very sorry I disobeyed and didn’t try harder for him at breakfast.

“Now. Let’s try this again. With Trip. I will allow you the use of your hands this time, but you must stay on your knees. Are you ready to submit?”

“Yes, sir, please.” I nod almost eagerly—anxious to avoid another spanking. Trip grins at me. He is dressed in regular clothes. I quickly get down to my knees without being told and wait for instructions, keeping my eyes down.

“Sir?” I ask.

“Go ahead,” Trip says. He seems excited to get started.

Approaching shyly, keeping my burning ass as low as possible—it feels cool against my calves and on the floor, I unbuckle his belt and his pants. I don’t remove them, however. I just remove enough to free his cock—which it does—and he is larger than Virus.

I am intimidated, but eager to avoid another punishment like the one I just suffered. The thought of a cane or a hairbrush going over my burning skin scares the crap out of me, so I carefully open my mouth—still filled with revulsion. But I try to imagine what I’d do if Rai were standing here expecting this from me, and the revulsion starts to fade away a bit.

Grooming the fur right below Trip’s belly is how I start. It’s red, surprisingly—not blond. I’m a little shocked, but I let my tongue glide through it softly before I kiss just the tip of his dick.

“All right, enough messing around—I don’t need foreplay, kitten.”

I glance up through my lashes, and his cold blue eyes are staring down at me. I lower my eyes, intimidated by his stare and then I kiss the tip of his dick.

“I said I don’t need it,” he growls at me.

“Come on, be patient. He’s doing well,” Virus says. “Go ahead, kitten. You’re doing fine.”

I don’t really know what to do, so I run my tongue around the rim before I sink as much as I can of his dick into my mouth. I’m nervous and my jaw is still sore from what Virus did to me earlier, and I glance up at Trip again, and he is really glaring down at me. I am starting to get nervous. 

“More tongue,” he growls low. “And purr.”

Purr? How do I make myself purr? I don’t know how to do that! I’m so scared I don’t think I can do it!

Taking him out of my mouth for a moment to lick him like candy, I whisper, “I don’t know how to make myself purr.”

“Try touching yourself. Not enough to, you know, but just a little.” 

I flatten my ears nervously. I've never done this in front of anyone else. Not ever.

“It’s sexy. I want to watch you do it.”

I move one of my hands from his cock to myself, and it surprisingly responds. I do, in fact, start to purr.

“Look up at me when you touch yourself.” 

I glance up at him, his cock still in my mouth.

“Make a little noise if it feels good,” he adds.

I sigh a little—and the sound that comes out around the cock in my mouth is so incredibly vulgar it shocks me. It ruffles the fur in my ears and makes my tail fluff up.

“Gorgeous,” Virus murmurs. “You look and sound perfect.”

A little more sound escapes and the shocking, lewd noise gets even worse. I just let it come out—in wet, purring sounds. It’s really weird and gross sounding, but it turns me on, too, making me hotter and making more noise come out.

“Don’t come,” Trip warns me. “If you do, you will be punished again.”

My ears flatten at the thought, but I don’t stop touching myself. I keep on stroking myself and sucking off Trip, but suddenly Trip rocks his hips forward. I choke, losing the ability to breathe. It forces me to let go of my own pleasure and I grab onto Trip’s shaft and protest.

“Hmph!” I urge.

“You feel good,” he murmurs. “Keep it up and relax your throat.” He snaps his hips and I gag and choke.

“Not even one fang, kitten, or else,” he reminds me threateningly, and he pulls my hair roughly but strokes my ears gently. Then he grabs my neck with both of his hands and starts to slowly cut off my airway. It sends terror through my body, making my spine tingle.

“Hmmmph!” I beg, more urgently this time, truly frightened. Strangely, my cock stiffens even more on its own, despite or maybe even because my airway is being cut off. I look up at Trip with total desperation in my eyes, pleading him to let go of me, to let air into my lungs. And he starts fucking my mouth, the same way Virus did. I relax my body as best as I can—completely discouraged and defeated—realizing I can’t win. Even if I do just as they tell me, they are still going to do whatever they like to me.

I just relax and wait for him to come—in fact, I try to make it easier for him to come.

I purr louder, I move my tongue, I relax my throat. I let the tears fall and I look up with terror in my eyes and plead as best I can, look as desperate and meek and submissive as possible.

Finally, I feel him stuttering, thank the gods since I am about to pass out. Surely he is bruising my throat! I choke when he releases in my mouth and he sighs and gasps and I swallow his come, relieved when his hands release my neck.

I cough and wheeze when air comes back into my lungs—and my gods—it feels almost like I am flying! I am tempted to touch myself—in fact, I have to stop my hands from moving to my groin—because he did say I was not permitted to come.

But I shiver and I am hard and dripping at this point, purring and a complete mess.

“Please,” I whisper. “May I just… um, quickly…?” I look up at Trip, who is completely relaxed, and over to Virus who is watching me closely.

“No,” Virus commands. “That is not allowed. Didn’t you hear your body isn’t your own? You’re not allowed your own pleasure unless your client desires it. And Trip forbade it, though you look lovely when you are desperate.”

“Yes, sir,” I say. I am feeling very strange—is it whatever drug he’s given me? I have no idea. Instead, I rub my throat and look down at my lap—surprised to see red welts across my thighs. It makes me feel weird—seeing them makes them burn, and makes my ass catch fire as well.

“Ah, I see. You really were in quite a state, weren’t you? Did you forget you had been punished, kitten? Poor thing.” Virus sounds almost sympathetic. 

“He’s probably due for some quiet time now, right?” Trip murmurs.

“Yes. You need to think about this morning—everything that’s happened this morning, your actions, their consequences. We have some things to do, but we are going to leave you up here to think about what you’ve done and if this the kind of life you’d like to lead. There is an alternative for you, if you are willing to obey and submit to our rules, of course.” Virus nods at Trip for a moment.

“Wrists, please,” Trip nudges my hands behind my back, and I’m still on my knees. I’m slightly horrified, but I obey. I feel the heavy weight of that wooden brace come down against my wrists and attach to my heels. I am stuck right where I am once again—except nude and extremely aroused. A few tears slip down my cheeks when I realize they are going to leave me here—like this. 

“P-please,” I beg softly. “D-didn’t I p-please you?”

“Oh, you did well, kitten,” Virus says. “However, you are being punished for your disobedience this morning. So, you will stay here and think about that. I don’t wish to see that sort of attitude from you ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” I say—my voice in a whisper.

“He is quite pretty like this, don’t you think? Maybe we should consider displaying him just like this?” 

“Perhaps, but he's not quite as innocent as I’d like. Although, a little experience is always good. Now he at least knows a little of what to expect.”

The two larger cats leave—and I am naked, kneeling alone in a dark, damp room, my wrists bound uncomfortably behind my back, my body hot and sweating and uncomfortable. I can’t stop thinking about the silver cat. If he were here right now, surely he wouldn’t do this to me, would he? He wouldn't leave me like this? Regardless of how “pretty” I looked? 

But I don’t know anything about him. He could have a collection of cats just like me at his home. He could purchase me—one of many, I suppose, to serve him just like I served both Virus and Trip. My throat hurts, my jaw aches, my heart aches, and my mouth tastes disgusting. I want to vomit. I want a shower. I want to touch myself and give myself some relief.

Mostly, I’m terribly worried about feeling so good when I was strangled. Why would my body respond? Why would I get excited by that?

I feel revulsion and self-hatred in equal parts—piling on top of each other—along with my arousal—and none of these feelings will go away. And I feel regret for my stupid rebellious behavior toward Virus this morning. Surely, I will cower at his feet when he next comes in and I will repent. 

I have learned my lesson. I will submit. I will be a good kitten here. I will never disobey them again. I promise. I have learned my lesson. I whisper my promise to myself, over and over like a mantra.

"Please. I am sorry. Please. I'll submit. I've learned my lesson. I'll never disobey again. Please. I'll be good. Please. Please. Don't leave me here. Please."

Chapter Text

I’m left on my knees—shackled and alone in the tower—the entire morning. My legs are aching, my bones creaking, and any passion or arousal I was feeling is long gone by the time I hear the door at the base of the steps. I can’t really move, but I’m hoping and praying I will be allowed to get off my knees and out of these restraints.

But instead of pleading, I keep my face lowered demurely—as timidly and submissively as possible—but my body shakes when I detect Virus approaching. I can tell it’s him on the stairs—Trip has a heavier gait.

Please please please please please

My thoughts race but I don’t speak. I don’t open my mouth.

“Kitten. Have you considered your actions from this morning?”

“I have, sir, yes. I was terribly wrong and disrespectful,” I say, my voice quivering.

“Fortunately for you, we need to get you in shape and prevent damaging you before your debut.” 

“Thank you for teaching me, sir.” My voice is so quiet—but not a trace of bitterness remains.

“Look at me, kitten.”

Obediently, I lift my eyes, feeling fresh tears drip down my cheeks. He is dressed now, at least—lime and black and white, looking calm and cool and collected as always. 

“What a gorgeous creature you are—submissive and obedient. Do you think you can remember this lesson? You have a lot of work ahead of you.” 

I’m so exhausted, but I nod as eagerly as I can.

“I’m glad. I should see to it that you are fed and cared for.” He reaches out to my ears and I don’t even flinch. He strokes my ear softly, then reaches behind me to release the heavy weight behind my back—the restraints connecting my wrists and ankles. At first, my body won’t move from its position, as though it is frozen. And certainly, my muscles are severely cramped. “I’d also hate to damage your skin. You need to see to it that you do not disobey so much, for your skin is so lovely and fair.” 

A soft robe—a fuzzy warm one—is wrapped around my body, which is strangely chilled. Virus expects my arms to be frozen and does not rebuke me, much to my surprise. Instead, he gently moves my arms toward the front of my body, giving my shoulders a gentle stretch. I feel a painful pop in both my shoulders, my neck, and across my back, and bite back a cry of pain. 

“You poor kitten. You’ve done very well. Come along now.” 

Almost tenderly, he lifts me up and carries me down the stairs. 

I am so relieved to be away from that tower that I do everything I can to cooperate. I keep my gaze down, I remain submissive and obedient—frightened to death to have that sort of sexual assault pressed on me again. It takes time to regain control over my body, however—and I’m given the time to regain it. A simple sandwich—nourishing and easy to eat—with milk and fruit—is served for lunch. I make a bit of a mess with it. Virus sends to me to bathe afterward, the door between the bathing chamber and his room open in case I slip or need help. He continues chatting with me about current events, however—and I realize my lessons are continuing, even now.

“You will be participating in dance lessons after this. So I will need you dressed and joining the rest of the class.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur. I wonder who my partner will be.

After bathing, he treats my wounded skin with a salve rather than a disinfectant and allows me to get dressed. Soon enough, I find myself in the ballroom with the other students.

“Konoe, you don’t look so well,” Tokino muses.

I smile as best I can, but I don’t speak. I’m afraid of what I might say. Aoba grimaces as if he knows what has happened, and he knows I didn’t spend the night in my room last night.

“Just—learn what they teach you. Resist as little as possible,” he advises quietly.

The ballroom doors swing open, and an instructor waltzes in with an oddly familiar flourish. He’s dressed in a dashing deep burgundy suit and has long dark hair and fur—almost so dark it looks blue. He’s tall and attractive—in some ways, he reminds me an awful lot of the silver cat, but a darker, slightly older version of him. And he is smiling and friendly, if rather debonair. And he looks my way in an instant.

“You must be Konoe,” his voice purrs gently. It’s soft and deep and soothing—and he walks up to me, using long graceful strides. He takes my hand—in the exact same way the silver cat did—and kisses it. Beside me, Aoba bristles abruptly, and I hear him clicking his tongue, looking away.

“Ah, um, yes? Sir?” I’m confused. He must be the dance instructor. But why is Aoba upset—and is he upset with me? 

“I’m Koujaku. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes are lifted toward my face as he is kneeling before me, and they sparkle—a warm brown. His teeth are long and white and lovely, and I feel his eyes skate up and down my body. “You are adorable. Do you have any dance experience?” I notice Koujaku takes a quick glance at Aoba standing on my right, and I can’t believe my ears, but I am sure I hear him huff in displeasure. 

Because of my experience upstairs in the tower today, listening to what I think may be the beginning of either a hissy fit or a mild explosion next to me, I start to become very nervous. And I don’t want anything to do with it.

To my shock, a long arm reaches out to the simmering blue fluff beside me and strokes his ears with drawn claws. I overhear gently spoken words, definitely not meant for my ears, but I can’t help it. I can’t move.

“Listen, Aoooba. You are taking this rather hard. Don’t you trust me after all this time? I am only here to help your friend get on his feet and learn to dance. Don’t you want him to have a good experience with his debut—just like you did? And then, I will pay you all the attention you could possibly desire. But until then, you will have to show a little more graciousness than this.” 

His voice is soft, gentle—and to my surprise, indulgent and teasing—and very sexy. Could he be… Aoba’s first experience? Then my next thought is: How much could a dancing instructor make? Enough to purchase another cat's virginity?

“Today, I will focus my attention on you, Konoe. We want you to be perfect and charming for your debut. Did I hear you are already attracting interest?”

“Um, yes, sir. Some, sir.”

Koujaku motions for the music to start and the other students pair up—Aoba dances with Noiz while watching us.

“First, stand up straight and tall. Posture, posture, posture—it makes all the difference. Your partners will slow down their gait for you, but if you move well, you may be able to take them by surprise.” He takes me rather firmly by the waist and pulls me up straight, lining up my hips with my feet, pushing my weight over the balls of my feet instead of my heels. “Suck in your stomach and drop your shoulders, yes,” he says, walking around to my back. “Now, your neck—gods, you’ve got a gorgeous neck, like a swan. Extend it as long as possible, like that.” He has his hands on my body, showing me what to do.

“My next question—did I hear you are a Sanga?” It’s whispered conspiratorially.

“I-I’m n-not s-supposed to s-say…” I stammer again, shocked he’d know such a thing.

Koujaku shakes his head, shiny black hair shimmering around him gently. 

“This means you will have no problem feeling the beat and rhythm. So, while we stand like this—our starting position—close your eyes and listen for the rhythm—really try to feel it in your heart.”

I nod briefly and close my eyes. Sure enough, I can feel it.

“Can you tell time signatures?”

“Yes. This is 3/4, a waltz.”

“Very good,” he purrs into my ear. He is about three heads taller than me, and I don’t like him touching me quite so intimately—or rather, that is what I’d like to be able to say, but I can’t quite admit that to myself. 

I try to tell myself that I’m learning to dance because if I do, I’ll be able to dance with Rai—the lovely silver cat—and just the idea of him holding me so close in his arms makes my ears get hot.

“Hou? What’s this, then? Pink ears? Cute! Am I making you uncomfortable? Perhaps you’re not quite as Virus described you.”

I look up at the brown eye not covered by the dark bangs, and I try to stop the offended growl from leaking from my throat.

“What? You look terribly offended. It’s awfully cute.” He chuckles. “All I meant to say is that you’re considerably more innocent than described.” 

I look away, disgusted. Exactly how am I being described? What, exactly, is my function here? And I start to feel slightly sick. Entertainer, my ass! Whore is much more like it, considering what has been done to me this morning—and suddenly, I wonder how much of that information has been leaked to the person whose arms are currently around me.

“And see? You’re a natural! I haven’t even told you what to do, and you simply follow. Now the question remains,” he lowers his lips to my ear and softens his voice, “are you also this submissive in the bedroom as well? How enchanting!” 

I don’t stop dancing, but my fur bristles all at once—I think in anger, but not entirely. I also happen to notice Aoba—who is currently struggling with Noiz, who is failing entirely to keep his hands on Aoba’s waist. Instead, he is caressing Aoba's tail and his ass. But Aoba, instead of being distracted by Noiz, is staring my direction and watching Koujaku’s interactions with me. 

“You’re giving my roommate an entirely inappropriate impression,” I hiss.

“Am I, though? Aren’t you making an assumption?” Koujaku replies casually, lowering my body into a dip, leaving me feeling helpless.

“What kind of assumption?”

“Well, aren’t you assuming that I’m not interested?”

You aren’t, are you? It's what I want to say. You couldn’t possibly be. You’re only trying to fluster me. But the words won’t come.

“Would it bother you?” He smiles—and he is quite attractive when he smiles—and lifts me back up from the dipped position.

“Of course it would!” I hiss low, unable to keep my voice pleasant or civil. “He is my roommate and he is obviously not over you!”

“We aren’t exclusive. He’s seen others besides me—he can’t help it while he is living here. I know that.” Koujaku sounds so casual about it. “It’s part of his contract. And why should I hold back when a new kitten is about to make his debut?”

I simply gape at him, unable to speak. I don’t have the words to reply. Well, I do, but I probably shouldn't say them. But he laughs suddenly.

“Why? Have you already found someone who strikes your fancy? Because if you have, I’d suggest letting him know. If he knows your feelings are mutual, there is often little that can be done to get in the way between you.”

My ears heat up into what is I’m sure must be a deeper shade of red.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He remarks, again so casually. “Your ears make you look so innocent and sweet.”

His words don’t actually help my self-consciousness. I don’t want Aoba to hate me, so I consider my words carefully.

“Actually, yes. There is a specific cat,” I say. “B-but I’m not sure h-he will like me after these two weeks are up.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“The, um, training?” I say quietly, not looking up.

“Isn’t it going well? I’d say it’s doing wonders for your current level of attraction. In fact, I think I will attend your debut myself.”

“Why?” I ask, glancing up and being met with that warm gaze and soft smile.

“Well, why do you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say, and then I realize I sound terribly obstinate.

“You know, I heard you got yourself in a little trouble this morning. Something to do with your tone? Am I wrong?”

A slight shiver rushes down my spine and I stiffen my body, making me miss a step.

“Oh, now, now. Don’t get nervous. It will mess up your dancing.” 

I become filled with fear, quite suddenly. I don’t know what I was thinking. I have been incredibly disrespectful and stupid—simply because he was acting kindly toward me. I was nervous about Aoba and I was afraid to step on any toes, but I just ended up acting privileged and bratty again. What is it going to take for me to understand my place here?

“Please,” I whisper. “Please—don’t punish me.”

I stop my feet suddenly, lowering my face, feeling my eyes burn with tears.

“I-i c-can’t repeat wh-what h-happened this m-morning,” I stammer. My body is stiff and nervous, and I don’t know what to do. No, I know what to do, I just can’t seem to do it. I’m causing a scene.

I force myself to the floor—onto my knees—which is intensely painful from the position I was forced to maintain for all those hours this morning, tears spilling down my face.

“I apologize,” I whisper. “I was out of line. I-I am still v-very n-new and l-learning what i-is expected of m-me—” 

“Konoe!” I hear Tokino call my name and I do not look up. I can hear Aoba trying to interfere with him, shushing him.

“Well, as sweet as you look on your knees, you can’t very well dance in that position, kitten.” Koujaku’s voice sounds just as friendly as it has since the very start of the lesson. “Come on. Stand up.”

He pulls me to my feet.

“You’re here to dance, not beg for your life.” I feel his hands brush my ears softly as he continues dancing me across the floor. “Listen. I wish I could say you are safe here, but I think you understand as well as I do that you aren’t. However, there are things you can do to make things easier and things you can do to make things harder for yourself. Have you figured out what those things are yet?” 

A small sigh approaching a sob escapes my throat. I can’t help it—it’s such a pitiful sound.

“Hush. This is a dance class. We don’t shed tears in this class!” Koujaku says softly. “You will do just fine, kitten, and you will get a favorable report from me. Don’t fret.” Then he stops and lifts my chin, making me meet his gaze. “You don’t have time to worry about anyone but yourself right now. Do you understand?” 

I nod briefly, seeing tears sparkle on my lashes.

“So. Who is this cat you have your eye on? Someone you knew before?”

Shaking my head, I answer.

“No. I just met him on my second day here. I was taking my written placement exam and he entered the parlor. He’s a former student.”

“Oh? I am an alum as well. Maybe I know him. What’s his name?” 

“Rai. He’s tall, like you are, similar in build, only with silver hair.”

“Wait. Long silver hair? With an eyepatch?” Koujaku seems to flinch. “You met Rai?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I would say so,” he replies somewhat cryptically.

“Did you attend school here at the same time?” I wonder if they had charity cases back then and if they were treated as poorly as I am being treated, but I don’t say anything. Who would have trained Rai to be a bounty hunter? Would he have learned that here?

“We did, but that’s not how I know him,” Koujaku smiles broadly.

I am quiet for a moment, hoping he will explain.

“I’m sure he thinks you are simply adorable,” he continues, but he does not answer my most pressing question. How does he know Rai?

“How do you know him?” I finally ask.

“He’s my younger brother,” Koujaku replies.

Chapter Text

Sitting in a pristine parlor of the finest mansion of the city of Ransen, Koujaku has decided to pay his brother a visit. They are sharing a cup of tea, but anyone looking through the picturesque bay windows could tell their conversation was anything but friendly banter. The silver cat’s fur was standing on end.

“I’ve received an invitation! There’s no reason I shouldn’t attend,” Koujaku says calmly, setting his teacup back in the saucer, his dark eyes meeting the narrowed icy blue gaze in front of him.

“That wasn’t my question,” Rai replies, making an obvious attempt to keep his voice calm and failing. This cat—his brother—was the only person who could succeed in riling up his temper. He is too old to be reacting to this sort of ridiculous provocation. “The question was, for what purpose would you be attending?”

“Oh, well, that’s easy to answer. I visited the school yesterday and I met the newest, er, merchandise, I think that’s what Virus calls them now? He’s quite cute.” Koujaku takes a biscuit from the tray on the table and dips it in his tea, keeping his eyes glued on his younger sibling, waiting for his brother's reaction.

Rai doesn’t reply at first. He can’t reply. He is furious. Reacting to his older brother’s needling will only encourage him. He waits till the latest flash of anger passes and he can answer calmly. 

“What about your fling with the blue-haired kitten? I thought you were serious about him. Aren’t you worried you’ll upset him?”

“Aoba? Yes, he’s upset. He was very upset when I spent the entire lesson dancing with the new adorable blonde recruit yesterday, but in my defense, I was asked to pay him special attention since he will be making his debut a week from tomorrow. He’s a natural.” Koujaku winks and sees Rai’s brow furrow slightly. “I mean, you should have seen him. Seeing a kitten who’d never taken a dance step in his life follow my steps as well as he did was amazing. I couldn’t help imagining if he’d be so compliant in the bedroom.” 

A growl leaks unwittingly from the silver cat in front of him and Koujaku takes another sip from his tea to suppress his smile. Koujaku has never seen his brother so worked up about another cat before. This is quite new—and a welcome change.

“I was a little concerned when I saw him today—despite how compliant he seemed and how obedient he was for me, he seems to have quite defiant eyes. I know Applebaum's doesn’t handle defiance well, especially not from their charity students. It worries me—what they might do to, um, enforce his compliance and encourage his obedience.”

The silver cat’s ears bristle angrily.

“Was he injured?”

“I couldn’t say from looking at him. If he was, it was well hidden. He seemed exhausted and frightened, though. As well as quite desperate.”

A louder growl leaks from the silver cat across the table.

“What they think of as training is nothing but abuse!”

“You don't need to convince me, Rai. Also, he mentioned you.”

The small white ears which were folded back against his head perk up suddenly and the growl stops. It's a cute mannerism his brother has had since his youth, Koujaku notices. He's not lost it even as an adult, and it makes his emotions rather easy to read.

“What?” Rai asks quietly. He knows that his brother loves teasing him—about anything and everything. Koujaku has always ever been the only cat who has this effect on him and he plays it up for all its worth. “What did he say?” 

“Wouldn’t it be boring if I told you?” Koujaku notices the long tail, flicking in irritation as Rai peers out the window. There is a brief pause in the conversation, during which the younger cat must be trying to collect himself.

“Just out with it!” Rai snaps. “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Just ask what you want to ask!”

“Do you like him? That young tiny blonde? Did you send him flowers? It’s obvious he adores you, too. He's smitten with you. There’s something quite magical about him.” 

Rai sighs, resting his head on the table. Koujaku laughs.

“You can’t do that in front of him, Rai. You’ll have to show him better manners! Additionally, our father would have killed you if he saw you ever resting your head on the table so rudely, rest his soul.”

“Oh, Father tried his best with me and never did quite succeed in beating my personality out of me,” Rai sighs. After a short pause, he continues, “I thought I might have frightened him the first time we met. I thought he was cute when I first saw him—and then, when he spoke—something inside me changed. I think…”

Koujaku looks up now at the tone of his brother’s voice. He’s never heard Rai speak this way.

“You think?” He prompts softly.

“I don’t know. I only met him once. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you think?” Koujaku asks again, his dark tail reaching underneath the table and brushing against the silver one, which is still flicking in agitation. I’ve never seen him like this. 

“I thought he was special. His voice was special. I want him. Maybe it was just an attraction, but it felt deeper than that.” Rai looks back at Koujaku, meeting a warm gaze. 

“Well. If you’re being so honest and open with me, I might as well do the same. I was going to go to help you out if that’s what you want. I know they are marketing the shit out of him. It’s pathetic. And he looked exhausted. If you like him—and I see why you might—you won’t want him to go to anyone else. Don’t put it off. And don’t, um…” Koujaku looks away now.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t let him get away or go to someone else after you. He will never forgive you. Trust me.”

Rai can’t help hearing the regret and pain in his brother’s voice. He sighs.

“Just apologize and he will take you back, Koujaku,” Rai says. 

The two finish their tea in peaceful silence.  

My week isn’t going well. After the exhausting day in the tower and dance training, I go back to my regular lessons in history and with Virus, though I am still not allowed to eat in the dining room with the other students. I’m forced to dine with Virus again. He insists on my serving him, pouring tea, wine, and water, and he's insisting on a pleasant conversation. This is part of my training, I know, but I’m tired and sore—my jaw is still tired, which disgusts me to even think about. I can’t think about what happened in the tower without horrible revulsion and nausea rising to my mouth. 

What if— 

What if the silver cat doesn’t want me? 

What if I end up with someone else, and I am forced to do that to another cat—a stranger—or someone cruel like Trip or Virus? And what happens after the silver cat has me? What then? Am I up for grabs for anyone, like Aoba is?

“Konoe.” Virus’ voice shakes me from my reverie, and I’m stunned for a moment, brought back to reality. “I don’t feel as though you’re giving me your very best treatment, kitten.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I apologize, lowering my eyes. “M-may I refill your glass?”

“I’m fine. I’d enjoy your conversation, however. What’s on your mind?”

“I know I have no right to ask, sir, but I, um, was wondering about the social event.” I look up at Virus through my lashes—I know it's a flirty way to get what I want, but it often works with him. 

“Yes? What about it?”

“What, um, exactly does it entail? What will be expected of me? I would like to do all I can to ensure that I please you, sir. I’d like to be prepared.” 

“Would you, now?” Virus smiles, but the smile does not reach his cold blue eyes. He is watching me carefully. “I’ve considered telling you exactly what it entails. I’ve done that in the past. However, I want to be sure you don’t have too much anxiety.”

“Sir?” I ask, my anxiety rising instantly.

“Well, darling kitten, it’s an event we hold at least twice a year for all students such as yourself. We time these social events according to the mating season, of course, for your comfort as well as those of our guests.”

“The mating season, sir?” I’m a male, so I cannot have kittens—and then it occurs to me. “Will, um, females be in attendance, sir?” Will I be expected to impregnate a female? My gods, that’s barbaric—I’ll be auctioned off as a stud, like some farm animal!

“We have had females attend in the past, but at the moment, I don’t believe we have any who wish to attend.” 

I feel somewhat relieved. But then, why would he bring up the mating season? I open my mouth to ask but Virus stares at me, silencing my question.

“You are getting better at conversation, kitten, but you need to remember to ask questions about your company. And if I could give you some advice—if your company enjoys what you are doing, don’t stop.”

His words send a shudder of fright down my spine, making my tail bristle.

“We will have light appetizers and lots of booze, and we open up many of the guest rooms, making them available for our guests who win the auctions to use however they wish. Additionally, we have outdoor space available as well. There will be dancing and entertainment. You won’t run out of activities.”

“What kind of auctions, sir?” I ask, almost afraid I know the answer. 

Virus sighs, resting his chin on his hands.

“Hasn’t Aoba spoken to you about this yet?”

“Um, he’s said some things, but sir, they sounded unbelievable to me.”

“What exactly do you think you are being trained for, Konoe?”

“I-i’m not sure, sir,” I say, lowering my ears.

“Well, let me ask you this. How do you plan to work off your debt to this school for all we’ve done for you? And all we will teach you?”

“I-i… I don't know, sir.”

“This is the ideal way to do it, which is why I came up with the brilliant idea. You and the other charity students will showcase your talents—and you will assist the others in showcasing their talents—and then, there will be an auction at the end of the evening. Those who are willing to pay the most will win, and you will spend the night with the cat who wins you.” The thought is a little chilling, since the silver cat may not really be interested in me that way.

“Are there other charity students here besides Aoba?” I ask.

“Akira is one as well.”

“Do they also sing?” 

“No. Aoba dances. And Akira—he has another talent. I’ve already decided you will be perfect to showcase his talent. The difference between these two is that they have already been through this at least once before. So if I can pair you up with both of them, it will help you shine.”

“What is Akira’s talent?”

“Oh, now I think I will leave that as a surprise,” Virus says. “It will make you look very, very good. Delectable, I think—as long as you are willing and submissive. And you have been over the past few days. It’s almost as though your time in the tower has helped you see the light.”

A few moments pass in silence. Should I mention my desire to see Rai?

“Sir—I would very much like the silver cat to come to the social. I realize there isn’t much I can do besides invite him to come—but I am afraid he won’t like me anymore.”

“Don’t you trust me, kitten?” Virus asks. His voice is slightly lower. “Don’t you remember what I promised you at the beginning of this training?”

“Um—” I honestly do not trust Virus. He frightens me!

“I told you that you would have him—and others like him—eating from your hand if you were to follow my instructions. It hurts me—no, it wounds me that you distrust me and my talents as much as you do! Do you really believe I don’t have your best interests at heart?!” He’s raising his voice and my ears flatten.

“I-i d-didn’t mean—”

“Of course you didn’t! You only meant you knew better than I do, knew better than someone who has made a successful business out of this for many, many years!”

“I am sorry,” I whisper, unable to look up. He’s going to punish me. I can feel it. It’s been a full three days since my last punishment and I can feel it! 

“Do you want to spend the night up in the tower again?!”

“N-no! Please!” I beg, looking up with desperation in my eyes. “I-i was only thinking I-i m-might write him a l-letter, asking him to come, saying I m-missed him?”

Virus glares down at me.

“Perhaps your time might be better spent getting to know the other charity cases and making sure you can obey as we ask you to on the evening of the social. Even after all this time and effort we have spent on you, I worry you may not have it in you to obey!”

“I promise I will! I will do whatever you ask!”

“You don’t even know what will be expected of you yet!”

“If it will get the silver cat to win the auction, I will do whatever it takes!” I certainly can’t imagine anyone else winning me—that would be awful, unbearable—and something I really don’t want to imagine.

“I know he likes his kittens submissive, and you are not exactly the most submissive student we’ve had. And so, that is why I am pairing you with both Aoba and Akira.”

“Do you mean you want me dancing with Aoba?”

“Well, Aoba will dance. You will be, um, on display. And he will demonstrate another talent of yours.”

“Not singing?” I ask. I am a Sanga, after all.

“Well, of course, I plan to start you off with singing. That will make you slightly more compliant, I think. And then, I think I will demonstrate that ability you have with your tail.” 

What ability with my tail? What is he talking about? I must be showing confusion on my face because Virus starts laughing.

“You are so very green. It’s awfully cute. Although—perhaps it makes more sense to pair you with Akira first, since you will have to obey him, and you can’t do that after you sing.”

“What is Akira’s talent?” I ask again. Virus ring a bell at the side of the door, and Trip comes in.

“Trip,” Virus interrupts me. “Bring Akira and Aoba to me, please.” Trip nods and excuses himself. “Let’s just show you. Brush your teeth, Konoe, and wash your hands and face.”

Virus gets up from the table and walks to the wardrobe while I excuse myself to the washroom. I do as I am asked. When I return, Akira and Aoba are in the sitting area, and the sofas have been moved out of the way. I see several pieces of equipment on the coffee table that I find disturbing: a whip, a riding crop, a collar, and a leash.

“Akira, for the social coming up this weekend, I have decided to showcase your talents using Konoe. I want you to do to Konoe what you did to Aoba at the last social. Then, I will have him sing—he is our newest singer, but his talent exhausts him. Then, Aoba will dance, and he will showcase a different talent Konoe has that I will describe in a moment.” 

“Wait—him? He’s so small. I might, um, hurt him, sir?” Akira sounds worried. His voice is soft and concerned. “I thought the attraction of my talent was that I am small and it would be surprising to the guests if I could dominate someone larger than me. Won’t it just look like bullying? Sir?”

“I don’t think you will have to hurt him at all—because Konoe is going to be perfectly submissive,” Virus says. “You won’t have to do anything harmful. He’s going to love everything you do to him. He will be in heat, after all. Trip and I would like a sample run-through of what this might look like, to see if it’s even feasible. Konoe, come here and open your mouth.” 

“Sir?” I ask nervously. I obey without hesitating, however, for fear of what other horrible things they have planned for me. Virus shoves a pill in my mouth and hands me a drink of water. 

“Swallow.”

I obey, despite the fact that I know he's just given me some sort of aphrodisiac or something to make me more compliant or sedate. Akira and Aoba just watch, their ears lowered.

“What talent is this, sir?” Aoba asks quietly.

“Sit down, shut up, and watch,” Trip growls.

“Akira, take off your shirt and start, please. The stylist will be arriving tomorrow with your outfit selections. For now, just wear your trousers. Konoe, your job is to do everything Akira tells you. It’s like a game, you see?” Virus explains. “If Akira tells you to touch your nose, you touch your nose—and don’t delay, or you will be punished.” 

I feel a little sick. Why does he have to take off his shirt? And why does he have that whip? Is that to punish me? I'm a little surprised at how quickly that medication is starting to work. My ears twitch when my hearing starts to sound a little strange. Everything sounds echoed, as though the walls in the room are bare.

Akira takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. When he opens them again, his blue eyes look icy and cold. He frightens me. He turns to face me, whip in hand and cracks it in the air. It makes the air around my body shake, and I flatten my ears and bristle my fur. What the hell is this?

"Face the audience, Konoe." His voice is commanding, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is running this show. I don't see any reason to disobey that order so I do as he asks if only to avoid that whip. But his next command surprises me.

“Strip, kitten.”

I freeze in place, looking to Virus. My clothes? He wants me to take off my clothes?

“Sir?” I implore Virus. He can't be serious. Is this really what he is planning for me on the night of the social?

“I am talking to you. I am your master,” Akira says calmly. He cracks the whip again, this time, hitting the back of my thigh. I yelp in surprise and at the slim, tight burst of pain. “Now, strip.”

Now incredibly frightened and intimidated, I slip off my boots and socks—and quickly.

“Not so fast,” Akira commands. “Slowly—and make it pretty and sensual.”

My fingers are trembling, and I feel tears burning the backs of my eyes. What kind of skill is this? What exactly is Akira’s talent? Intimidation? Once I’ve taken off my boots and socks, I take off my cravat, and I drape it on the back of a chair and I look pleadingly at Virus again.

“I am your master, kitten,” purrs Akira. “Do you need another demonstration?” He approaches me quickly and grabs my chin, pointing my face up sharply so I meet his frightening gaze. “I won’t ask again. Strip.”

Shaking, I do as I’m told, stripping off of my vest and shirt, as slowly and sensually as is possible for as much as my fingers are shaking, draping my clothes over the same chair. Then I take off my belt and wiggle out of my pants. I’m standing in my underwear and undershirt with my fur fluffed out, embarrassed and flushed. The sounds in the room reverberate loudly, and Akira is frightening me. Who is this cat? What sort of talent is this?

“Go on,” Akira says, cracking the whip toward me. My ears and tail twitch in fear, but he doesn’t hit me this time. I pull my undershirt over my head and look up at Akira, not at Virus. This time, I flinch when I see that whip coming toward me again—and it connects with my lower back, catching my tail. It snags my fur right at the base of my tail and it stings. I cry out. I haven't obeyed quickly enough.

I slide my underwear off my hips and cover myself with my fluffy tail, ears burning. A few tears slip down my face. Akira’s cool and collected mask doesn’t change.

“Good boy,” he praises me softly. His words send goosebumps rushing down my nape and spine. What is wrong with me? Is it whatever Virus gave me? “Now, kneel,” he orders.

I obey, grateful to be less exposed. I glance toward my audience and Aoba is not watching me. He is looking at the floor in front of me. He looks mortified for me. Did he have to do this last time? And wait—will I have to do this in front of an audience? In front of… the silver cat!? No! I can’t! Panic starts rising in my chest.

“W-wait,” I say, my breathing becoming faster. 

“Did I permit you to speak?!” Akira snaps. The whip cracks again and my ass receives an extremely precise snap. I meow in pain and shut my mouth, biting my tongue in the process. Tears leak from my eyes. 

He struts over to me and puts a collar on my neck. I hear the clinking sound of the buckle quite clearly. It's almost as though he is buckling up any last bit of pride with the sound of that buckle.

“It’s pretty on you. You’re so pretty, kitty,” Akira purrs, and he rubs the base of my ears—and his voice makes my fur bristle—his praise is making my fur stand on end and his touch is affecting me below the waist in a strange way. Gods! I'm getting hard! I cannot believe this. I'm so ashamed.

Akira is standing facing the furniture in the room where Virus, Trip, and Aoba are sitting. I feel incredibly embarrassed—naked in front of them—and I am really worried. Is this what they want me to do in front of an entire roomful of guests?

“Excellent, Akira. I may have you go further on the actual night, but for now, that’s enough. Come, take a seat. Konoe, sing for us, please.”

“S-sing?” I stammer. “Sir—like this? Now? I-i c-can’t—n-not like this!” Tears stream down my face.

“You know, there are other implements here I can use to encourage your obedience, Konoe. I want you to sing, and I want you to sing now. This is how you will sing to entertain the guests at the social. If you can’t perform for us, this small audience, how the hell do you expect to do it for a roomful of guests?” Virus asks, trying to keep his voice calm, but I can hear the anger seething beneath the surface.

“I-i d-don’t know, s-sir, b-but I-i just d-don’t think—”

“I’m not asking you to think!” Virus snaps. “I’m asking you to sing before I lose my temper and my patience!”

“Please!” I cry. “J-just… g-give m-me a moment! I haven’t d-done this b-before!” I cannot imagine being displayed naked in front of a group of people gawking at me—including the beautiful, elegant silver cat—being humiliated—in nothing but a collar…?

And suddenly, my chest starts to hurt—and it aches so much that I think I might split open. I clutch at my skin there with both hands, claws drawn. Akira’s eyes almost glow when my song spills from my body. It starts quietly, but I see him respond before anyone else does, and that is… odd.

The feeling coming across today is utter helplessness, utter humiliation, and a cry for help. My body glows, and the slim tendrils of light that spill off my skin from my body make their way across the floor directly to Akira. He gasps out loud when he touches them with his fingers.

“Akira… Trip, take the whip from the silver kitten—now,” orders Virus. “It’s a good thing we’ve tried this in advance. Konoe, kitten—you sound beautiful, but can you make your song more general and less targeted?”

“S-sir?” I ask. I don’t know what he means. Less targeted?

“I mean, can you sing for me? Or for Aoba? Rather than for Akira?”

I am not singing for Akira, I don’t think! I don’t understand why the light is creeping up to him in the first place!

But before I can change who my audience is, my song starts to fade out and I lose my energy. I collapse from my knees to all fours and then flatten on the ground in a small ball on the floor, my ears and tail twitching. I feel incredibly vulnerable.

“What is he?” Akira asks. “What was that?” 

“That is Konoe’s most marketable skill. And Aoba will show off another one of his talents. After you dance, Aoba—or before—you will groom his tail—in fact, go ahead now, while he can’t move. See what happens?”

“Don’t hurt him!” Akira says. “Please—don’t!” He sounds very upset suddenly. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know he could do… that! I don’t want to do anything to hurt him if he can sing like that, Virus.”

“You don’t have a choice. You will do as I say, or you know to whom you will be given,” Virus replies. “Aoba, go ahead. He becomes paralyzed for a while—he can move his ears and tail, but he can’t move anything else. He’s quite defenseless. Go to him, and see what happens when you groom his tail thoroughly.”

I see Aoba approaching me—and I feel his hands on me—claws running through my fur—and he is so very gentle and kind—and it feels so nice after whatever that was with Akira. Aoba is purring softly.

“Your song was so pretty, Konoe,” he whispers, stroking my ears. “I wish you’d sing for me, too.”

To my utter shame, I start to get incredibly turned on by the caresses on my tail and Aoba’s gentle care. I start gasping, purring, and sighing—and I cannot help myself. I’m afraid I might actually come from his touch, and I start to lose it.

“Hey—Konoe,” Aoba purrs soft and sweet, “I mean, everyone likes their tail being pet, but what is this? Are you actually able to, um, come from just this?” 

“Aoba, please,” I beg, nearly unable to form the words, and I have both my elbows pressed on the ground to keep myself from being exposed. I grab his ankle and look up his face. “Please don’t do this.” 

However, he keeps moving his hands, and I get more and more desperate—and I lower my mouth to my arm to silence myself. I would like to bite myself, to distract myself—I do not want to lose it in front of all these people. But I still do not have the ability to move at all—and my breath sounds obscene and vulgar in my own ears—and it turns me on even more!

“Konoe,” Virus says. “You are acting all cute and shy—but really, even you know this is going to increase your value, just as much as that song is, don’t you? So why fight it? Cast your shame aside and come. You will be so much more desired. The silver cat won’t be able to resist you once he sees how sensitive you are to touch.” 

I look up at Virus—and I want to give him a defiant look, but he meets my gaze with those cold blue eyes of his and I drop mine to the floor immediately. 

“Don’t you give me that look! I could change what Aoba is doing to you to some kind of punishment, involving that riding crop, for instance?” Virus suggests. “So I suggest you comply. Cheerfully and eagerly.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, lowering my gaze submissively. I feel additional tears of shame spill from my eyes, but I relax my body and will it to submit to Aoba’s hands. It isn’t long before he puts the hooked tip of my tail in his mouth—and that is what pushes me over the edge.

I do climax—but it isn’t very good. It’s more of a relief than anything else. At least, I’m permitted to come and not left hanging for days or hours after. Sticky white seed spills all over my belly and thighs—because of how I am crouched on the floor—and I still can’t move. I’m still breathing fast and hard when I hear Virus and Trip tell Aoba and Akira to get me cleaned up.

“Will you want us to do this the night of the auction as well, sir?” Aoba asks.

“I’m working on the exact details, but yes,” Virus says thoughtfully.

“Won’t he have some trouble performing if he, well, climaxes on stage and is expected to climax again for whoever wins his auction?” Akira asks.

“He’s young,” Trip says. “He will be just fine. He will be in heat and we will medicate him if someone incompatible wins him.”

"I may have Akira remove him from the stage and clean him up while Aoba dances," Virus ponders aloud.

My ears are lowered as the other two students drag me to the bathing chambers attached to Virus’ room. Akira is really built and strong—surprisingly so—so I wonder why he is even in this situation. Can't he defend himself?

“I’m sorry, Konoe,” he says—and his voice is normal again, back to the flat-sounding soft voice I heard when he was with me at the inn. “Please don’t take it personally. Your best bet is to play as submissive as possible and do what I ask you to do—when that night actually comes. I won't have to punish you then. You’ll make the most when you're submissive that way, and you will go to the cat you desire, I’d bet.”

“How can you be so sure?” Aoba asks. His tone is annoyed, and he's angry.

“What, you can’t look at me and tell me that what I have to do is any worse or any more humiliating than what you have to do to him, Aoba,” Akira growls softly.

Aoba sighs. 

“It’s not that. And I am sorry. I’m trying to get him out of this—or part of this—because, in front of an audience of three, it’s one thing, but in front of the houseful we will be having will be something else entirely!”

I still haven’t spoken. I’m exhausted and I’m terrified. I’m also sitting under the showers, leaning up against Aoba on a stool while Akira is soaping up my torso and legs. 

“That song, though…” Akira murmurs. “What on earth was that? I’ve never felt anything so powerful!”

“They said I am a Sanga,” I reply quietly. 

“A Sanga?” Aoba asks. “That’s very rare. I heard that you sing for your talent, but I didn’t know you were a Sanga. The song doesn’t come out of your mouth, either. It comes from your entire body.”

“Oh!” Akira says. “I had no idea. That makes sense.”

I glance at Akira—awkward, of course, after what he has done to me, but his eyes sparkle. “On the night of the auction, you have to try to sing for your silver cat. If you do, he won’t be able to stay away from you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I was ready to attack Virus and Trip, even at risk to myself. I felt full of this latent power I’d never felt before—it was incredible! Such a rush—and I could hear your call for help, Konoe.”

“But… why did you sing to Akira?” Aoba asks, a little sulkily. “He’d just been so cruel to you.”

“I wasn’t,” I said. “At least not deliberately.”

“It’s because I’m a Touga—or was, in my former life. I was told that those who train as Touga can feel the presence of a genuine Sanga. That must be it. And if you like that bounty hunter, you must call out to him. He is a Touga as well. He will hear you and he won't be able to resist.”

“I-i don’t know how,” I confess. 

“You’d better learn,” Aoba says. “Because otherwise, you’ll find some other Touga after you and in your bed—or worse—he will purchase you outright.”

“Wait, what?” I’ve heard this before—about the innkeeper. Being able to purchase me outright. Is this an option? “I can get out of here?”

“I’ve heard, yes. But I’ve never seen it happen,” Akira says. “And if it were going to happen, it should have happened to you, Aoba. Considering who your first was.”

“He didn’t like me well enough,” Aoba says. "And he couldn't because of who he was and who I am."

Koujaku? I think. Of course, a dance instructor wouldn’t have enough money for this sort of thing.  

“It was the dance instructor, right? He’s handsome, but he wouldn’t have enough money to pay off your debt to the school, would he? Did Virus insist on a bribe as well?” I ask.

“Koujaku is no dance instructor,” Akira says, and Aoba laughs bitterly.

“What? Who is he?” I ask.

“He is the king’s son. He’s a prince. He’s probably concerned with the optics of buying a boy from a school. What would his subjects think if my past ever came to light? He bought a dancer? A whore?” Aoba spits.

I freeze. I know very little about current politics—except that two years ago, the current king died and left one of his sons to rule. He has several sons. How many? I can’t remember. Three? Four? And then I remember what Koujaku told me about Rai.

“Wait. He’s a prince? Doesn't the prince have brothers?” I confirm just to check, perhaps I was mistaken.

“He does. I think he’s one of four children. The oldest is our current ruler. He won’t be in attendance, of course. I don’t think any of the other princes have attended our school.” 

“They have,” I say, sighing—and tears burn the back of my eyes. “Oh, they have.” I try my hardest to hold back my sobs.

“Konoe? What is it?”

“Koujaku—during that dance lesson last week? He told me that Rai—my silver cat—is his younger brother! I’m going to be stuck here, aren’t I? I have no hope of ever escaping this place. Not ever! At least, not with someone I want to be with! Oh, my gods!” I do start sobbing for real now.

“That can’t be true,” Akira says, rubbing my ears gently. “Hush now, Konoe. It will be okay. He really likes you—and Rai is a bounty hunter. He’s been coming here a while now, unable to find anyone he likes. Perhaps he’s looking for someone just like you!”

“Yeah, to fuck! Just for the night!” I cry. It's exactly as Noiz said, isn't it? Someone to warm his bed? “And then he will leave me here, just like Koujaku did to Aoba, because of… how did you put it, Aoba? Optics? I should have known better! I knew it when I first laid eyes on him. He carried himself like royalty.”

I break down into tears, and nothing the other two cats can do will comfort me. They try, however. I have never felt so hopeless.

Chapter Text

I am made to sleep in Virus’ bed that night—again. I am not even permitted to set foot upstairs, and all I want is to see that beautiful bouquet Rai sent to me and to touch the note. My heart is filled with despair. He’s a prince—I know it—he may work as a bounty hunter, but he is one of the king’s sons. I don’t stand a chance with someone like that! What would he want with someone like me? Plain, boring, small, from a small town—a charity case with not a penny to my name and no property and no title. I have nothing.

Then I remember—I do have something. I am a Sanga. If I was able to reach Akira, perhaps I might be able to reach other Tougas as well. Perhaps I could target Rai. How would I do that, though? I’m not able to direct my song toward anyone in particular, but perhaps if I imagined him or even fantasized about him while I was singing—perhaps that would help?

But then, I realize I am going to be on a stage, naked, and forced to perform in front of an audience of strangers, or worse, people who have seen me with my clothes on. And I won’t start out naked—I’ll be expected to strip them off myself, of my own will to showcase Akira’s frightful talent.

The next day is exactly one week before the social, and the stylist arrives to arrange our costumes. I’m called into the parlor, along with Akira and Aoba, for a discussion of costumes and to meet him. Both of the other students seem nervous to see the stylist. He’s apparently famous, but I share the feeling as soon as I lay eyes on him.

He’s not a cat.

In lieu of ears on top of his head, he has short, thick horns—like those of a bull—that curl up from his cropped white hair. The black horns stand out obviously from that mop of white hair. He has ears, but they are fleshy protrusions on the sides of his head, no hair on them at all, slightly pointed at the tip. They seem useless to me since they don’t seem like they can move. 

There is no hair on his black tail, either—it’s slick as a snake, and it doesn’t move the way a cat’s tail should move. In fact, I have a hard time keeping my eyes off it, because of how it is twitching and swaying around. It’s distracting, and it makes me want to pounce. Also, his eyes are two different colors—one grey and one green—so I don’t know where to look when I am introduced. 

Although—it’s hard not to look right at his bare chest, which is where my eyes naturally point because of my height. He’s wearing a shockingly revealing outfit: a long coat open at the front, trimmed with black feathers and fur, and chaps, also covered with gray fur. He has a tattoo just below his navel, and it looks like an abstract arrow pointing directly to his crotch. Who the hell is this person? He looks so vulgar! I don't want him designing any clothes for me if he's dressed like that.

“Ah, so you’re the new kitten I’ve heard so much about,” he purrs. His voice is deep and it rattles uncomfortably in my ears. He takes my hand and pulls my body in close to his. “Beautiful. Ah—and so soft!” He pets my ears affectionately.

I flatten them against my head and try to push him away.

“Please, um, sir,” I say, trying not to be rude and failing.

“Konoe!” Virus snaps at me. “You must become more comfortable with others touching you. And Verg is our stylist. He needs to know your body type and measurements before he leaves today.”

“You two haven’t changed much. Neither of you has grown since the last social, it seems? Are they feeding you here? Do you want to come home with me?” Verg asks in a seductive tone, looking up at Akira and Aoba. He pulls me down next to him on the couch, and I am incredibly uncomfortable. He continues stroking my ears, which flick down from the touch. “This one is very shy and sweet, isn’t he? What’s your name, kitten?”

“I’m Konoe, sir.” I am struggling not to cry, but I can't express how much I dislike sitting close to him. He feels dangerous and wrong.

“This will be excellent practice for him. He may look sweet, but he has not been compliant. He is actually quite willful. Perhaps this is a chance for him to become used to allowing himself to enjoy the touch and affections of others.” Virus lowers his voice and meets my pleading gaze. “And submit to my commands or suffer the consequences. This and more will be expected of you on the evening of the social.”

I shrink back from Virus’ cold gaze, and Akira and Aoba try not to meet Verg’s eye. He begins discussing costume ideas with Virus, keeping his hands moving on me—dropping from my ears to my nape, then to my shoulders and back, then to my lower back and my tail. That makes me even more uneasy. 

I can’t pay attention to the design ideas because of how distracted I am with the touching and with trying not to shy away or flinch, but after about fifteen minutes, I’m pulled up to stand, right in front of the devil. He pulls me between his legs and traps me there.

“Aoba and Akira, you’re both good to go. You’re excused. Let’s get this luscious kitten’s measurements now, shall we?” 

Verg’s hands—covered in black leather gloves, which is why they felt so weird on my fur—shoot out to my vest and unbutton it, moving quickly and efficiently. Before I know what’s happened, my shirt is unbuttoned.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” I claw my shirt tightly around my body before it can be removed. “Please, sir!”

“You aren’t just playing coy?” Verg chuckles. “I need to actually see your body, little one, to get accurate measurements for the outfit for you. Don’t you want to be irresistible and attractive for your debut?” 

My ears heat up in a hot blush.

“Look at that—pink ears? Adorable. Do you blush like this all the time or just when you’re attracted to another person?”

An irritated sound escapes my mouth—I’m not attracted to the devil at all. I just have been overwhelmed with his constant, annoying touching and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to take off my clothes! However, I hear Virus behind me.

“Konoe. This is not optional. You will allow him to do his work without further delay or there will be consequences.” I hear a heavy tapping sound on the hearth, next to where Virus is standing, and it attracts my gaze. He’s brought that stupid wooden hairbrush with him. Was he expecting me to resist? He’s hoping to punish me! I can see it in his eyes. 

Immediately, I drop my hands and allow Verg to remove my shirt. He pulls my undershirt off as well.  

“You are slim, but you have a gorgeous shape. Are you sure you want him to wear anything at all?” Verg asks, a leer on his lips. I feel disgusted by his words and his comments, and my fur bristles. I try hard not to draw my claws, balling my hands into fists. “Oh, you didn’t like that? It’s a compliment, kitten.”  

He draws his gloved hand across my chest—deliberately touching my nipples, and I shiver.

“Gods, are you that sensitive? And you’re not in heat? What is this?” Verg asks. “Do you have a little experience with pleasure, little one—despite that innocent face of yours?”

I look down and don’t answer, my cheeks and ears burning.

“This will be his first season,” Virus says. “But yes. He is quite sensitive.”

“Take off your shoes, kitten,” he orders. The devil has large fangs, too—and they are always on display. They are frightening.

I sigh softly and unlace my boots and slip them off.

“Lose the socks, too.”

I obey. 

"Let me see your foot for a moment." Verg bends my leg slightly, and I can't tell if he's looking to see how flexible I am or if he's looking at the size of my foot.

“So obedient. What a good boy you are! I wonder, will you be so submissive in the bedroom, too?”

As my eyes are glaring down at my toes, I watch those gloved hands reach for my belt. The metal clinks oddly in my ears. He doesn’t remove the belt. Instead, he unbuttons and unzips my trousers and slips them off my hips, keeping his hands flat as he goes, brushing against my skin as much as possible.

“Turn around.” His orders are clipped, and I obey, standing in my underwear. I need to stop being so embarrassed by my nudity if I will be on display completely naked in front of others in a week. I can't even imagine!

His thumbs hook into the waistband of my underwear and he pulls them down—slowly—much more slowly than he took off any other item of clothing. At this point, I would have rather gotten undressed myself. He’s deliberately touching as much of my body as possible. I’m almost relieved when my underwear is finally removed, though I’m still clenched between the devil’s thighs, feeling that gray fur brush against my bare legs.

“Would you mind if I…?” Verg asks, directing his question toward Virus.

“Go right ahead.”

My tail is grabbed at the base, and I gasp. I’m not sure if it surprises me or if it hurts—but I feel overly sensitive and exposed. And then—I hear a strange zapping sound followed immediately by a painful shock, right at the base of my tail. It shoots all directions—up my spine and into my shoulders, down my legs, and into the tip of my tail, bristling out the fur. I can’t prevent a small, pained meow leaking from my mouth. 

What’s weird, though—is after the initial painful shock, waves of strange, heavy pleasure follow the path of the shock, all pooling in my groin and hips. It makes my fur ruffle, and a nasty-sounding purr escapes my mouth. What is this? It feels hot—like when the silver cat touched me. And it makes my dick stiffen in an instant. 

“Huh. Look at that!” Verg muses. He forcefully turns me around to face him, moving both hands down my sides. I refuse to look at his face for how embarrassed I feel—I can’t even bring my swishing, bristled tail in front of my body to cover myself. I try to cover my nudity with my hands, but he grabs them and shoves my hands to my sides. “You are adorable, kitten. What are you?” Then, addressing Virus over my shoulder, he asks, “What is his talent?”

“He sings.” 

“Oh?” Verg asks. “He’s a sensitive kitty, for sure.” My chin is nudged up slightly, and I meet the devil’s strange gaze for just a second. He is terrifying. It feels like he wants to devour me.

Please don’t leave me alone with him!

“Are you frightened? Perhaps you should be. Perhaps I will attend the social as well, just to make sure the costumes work perfectly. Plus, you are just my type.”

A shiver of revulsion crawls up my spine and I deliberately look away. To my horror, my tongue indicates my revulsion—making a disgusted clicking sound all on its own.

“Konoe!” Virus snaps. “What the hell was that?! Did you just click your tongue at our guest?! As I said, he is incorrigible.”

“Oh? I found it rather honestly refreshing. He’s no liar, at least. But do what you need to do,” Verg replies. "I can't wait to watch."

Virus grabs my arm, and he bends me over one of the plush chairs in the room. I’m still aroused, my cock pressing into the arm uncomfortably—and I gasp when he presses my body into the chair. He’s really pissed. This is going to be bad.

“You really can’t go for more than a day or two without discipline, can you? You’re such a brat. Look at me and listen.” Virus grabs my chin and cranes my neck backward—painfully—so I meet his cold gaze. “You absolutely may not behave like that toward any of the guests next week. I don't care what your feelings are toward them. It's your job to be sweet and compliant and willing. If you do anything else, I will repeat this punishment—publicly—and that will be so much worse for you. It will give whoever wins your auction the idea of punishing you himself because, well, your ass is made for this.”

He releases my chin and I feel tears building up in my eyes. I stare down at the mauve velvet chair, as though the fabric itself might save me from what is coming to me. He has punished me, but he hasn’t used the hairbrush in several days.

“You’d better hook what’s left of your claws into the chair with all your might, kitten. This isn’t going to be pleasant for you. If I see your hands back here, you know it will be much worse.”

I feel him pressing the back of the brush against my ass—and then he begins. He doesn’t warm up, either. He just goes to town on my defenseless body—both cheeks, my sit spot, my upper thighs. The repeated, rhythmic smacking sound is painful and so humiliating. And as I’m trying to take my punishment submissively—unable to keep from crying out after every painful thwack—I realize that my ass is pointed right at Verg, and he is getting a rather nice show.

“Keep both feet on the floor, Konoe,” Virus warns. I realize I’ve been picking up one foot after the other, especially after those hard slaps to my thighs, since moving my legs seems to disperse the pain a little. My tail is bristled at the base but helpless. Tears are running down my face, and in a very little time, the individual cries blend into a constant wail. My ass is burning like it’s on fire, my thighs hurt even more—and yet, my arousal is building. I don’t know if it’s because of the blood pooling in my hips or because of that shock, but it’s both humiliating and mortifying.

“Don’t you dare move your hands,” Virus says when he notices one of my hands release its claws. I can’t take much more, but I can't help wanting to protect myself. I dig them into the seat of the chair.

“P-please!” I beg through my tears. “I-i’m s-sorry! Sir! Please!” But soon I can’t even form words. I want to protect myself so much, but I know if I do, I will only bring more wrath down on myself and the punishment will be worse. 

The hairbrush is worse than the belt—mostly because of how much the pain builds and how long the punishment goes on. I am clawing at the cushion, my knees buckled against the chair, and heaving loud sobs by the time Virus slows the blows. He ends the punishment with four more hard thwacks—one to each thigh, making me scream, one to my sit spot, and one to the center of my ass. 

Once it stops, I am left there—weeping—wanting to rub myself, touch that hot skin—do something, anything to soothe myself—but I don’t dare move. I know I am not to move until he excuses me. I continue crying for some time, trying to quiet myself—realizing I’m not as humiliated as I was when he first started. It was simply too painful to suffer humiliation as well. But now, it feels like my ass and thighs are bright red and swollen, and humiliation floods me again.  

“He won’t be comfortable sitting for a while, now, will he? Tell me, is this a regular occurrence?” Verg asks. I feel those gloved hands touching my ass—and I flinch. I didn’t hear him approach—and he’s touching skin that is injured and hot, and all my nerves are on edge.

“It is, unfortunately,” Virus says, and he sounds winded. Gods, did he really have to spank me that hard? I mean, I thought the idea of using an implement was so he wouldn't get out of breath and exhausted. But he really whaled me. “For a kitten as sensitive as he is, you’d think he’d learn a little faster. Although—he’s gotten much more compliant as far as being submissive during the punishment, instead of fighting after each spank.”

“Oh?” Verg purrs in my ear. “I wouldn’t mind a little bit of resistance now and then. It would make things interesting. And this is just lovely, isn’t it? Matches his ears now.”

My ass is caressed and I cry out, biting my lip and struggling to keep both feet on the floor. 

“Please—sir—I’m sorry. Please,” I beg softly into the cushion.

“Gorgeous pale skin, interesting fur, and this tail—combined with his lithe little form—it gives me some wonderful ideas. I think I’ve got what I need.”

“Wonderful,” Virus says—and I’m left there on the chair, naked, exposed, and in pain. Humiliation is washing over me again, especially when someone else touches my thighs—on the inside, brushing that gloved hand right up in between my legs. I struggle not to push my legs together and remain right where I am. But another small meow leaks out of my mouth. 

“How old is he? He sounds like just a kitten, what with those sweet little sounds. Enchanting.”

“He’s sixteen.”

“Are you sure he’s going to be in heat?” Verg asks.

“He should be. But if he isn’t, we have medications to help him along.”

“I see. I can help as well if you like. I can have a positive effect—like this—” Verg rests his hand, palm flat, against my sore sit spot, and I feel another shock course through my body. It makes my body jump in pain, and I yelp. And then—the waves of pleasure that crash through my body afterward—they are even stronger than the first time he shocked me. If it weren’t so rude, I’d hump the arm of the chair, just to relieve myself. What the fuck is that?! It’s almost a painful pleasure. And I cannot get the image of the silver cat out of my brain, which isn't helping.

“Hmm,” Virus says. “I’ll keep that in mind. He is quite lovely when he’s aroused.”

“There’s something about this kitten—his voice—that intrigues me. You say he sings?” Verg asks. 

“Ah. You’ll have to come to the social for his debut if you want to know more!” Virus laughs, trying to sound mysterious.

“I’ll be there.” Then my ears are licked—and it feels disgusting. His tongue is wet and long—and gross. It’s not a cat’s tongue and it feels nothing like what Rai did to me. “I’ll see you next week, kitten. Save yourself for me and we can have some fun together.”

A shiver of revulsion and fear courses through my body, making my heart ache. What if Rai doesn’t want to see me as the whore Virus is trying to make me into? I might be stuck with entertaining this devil for the night! What would I do?! 

Tears slip down my cheeks—fear, anxiety, shame—yet I remain right where I am since Virus has not excused me. He sees Verg out, leaving the door to the parlor open. Anyone walking past might see me—and my punished ass in all its nude glory.

To my surprise, a soft fluff of silver appears in the corner of my eye. Akira has managed to sneak inside the room the moment Virus left. 

“Gods, Konoe—what the hell did they do to you?!” He sounds devastated. “Let me help you. This is so wrong—you should not be treated like this. You’re something special, you know?”

“N-no—please!” I urge when Akira is bringing me my clothes. “I-i haven’t been excused, and Virus will send me to the tower again or do something worse—punish me publicly—if I move before he excuses me!”

“What?” Akira sounds a little dumbfounded. “That’s ridiculous! I mean, anyone can see you like this, and if he’s trying to protect your—er, well, protect you, this is a really bad idea!”

Tears slip down my cheeks.

“Please—just—go,” I beg softly. There’s a short pause, and I don’t look up from the chair to see what Akira is doing or if he is doing as I’ve asked. 

“I can’t,” he says a little awkwardly. “I, um, I heard your voice and I couldn’t, um, stay away! Konoe—this is wrong! We need to get you out of here.”

I feel my ears blushing again. He heard me being punished?

“Were you standing outside the door?” I’m mortified.

“No. I was upstairs in my room. With the window and door closed. I heard you—in my heart more than my ears. I have tried escaping many times, and I know what doesn’t work. I think with my help, I can get you out of here. The old man at the inn? He used to be a Touga as well. Do you think you could sing for him?” 

“I can’t sing for anyone,” I say. “You have to go! Please!”

“Konoe—I can’t. You have no idea what your life is going to be like after the debut. Right now, yes, you’re subject to physical punishments. But at least your virginity is being protected. After that first auction, your body will be up for grabs. And you’re… open game.”

I do look up at Akira now. What is he talking about?

“It’s worse than it was with me or Aoba—the talk I hear. I think because Virus punished you in front of everyone on your first day. And possibly because of Noiz—and the incident in history class.”

“When I had to write notes on the board?” I ask. What was wrong with that? Did I do something wrong? 

“Well, it wasn’t because of your notes. Everyone was staring at your ass.” I forget that Akira can be very blunt, and my cheeks heat up at his words.

“Th-that wasn’t my fault,” I say. But now I’m frightened. “So—what can I do? I’ll get punished if I try to protect myself, won’t I? If I fight students off?” 

Akira sighs.

“You will. And the punishments after your debut are much worse than before. They can lend you out for the day or night to various clients with… proclivities. I should know. The fencing instructor is someone you definitely want to avoid.”

I have noticed, I think, that cat, dressed head to toe in black, seemed to have it out for Akira on several occasions.

“What does he do to you?”

“I don’t mean to worry you more than necessary,” Akira says. “But the punishment is meant to break your will. And it’s… effective.” He sighs softly. 

Fear grips my chest firmly, creeping up the back of my neck.

“If you’re worried about your debut, don’t be. Much worse is in store for you afterward.”

He is worrying me—probably more than necessary. I feel like I might be sick.

“I-i don’t think I can do this,” I sob.

Akira strokes my ears gently.

“I know. I’ll do what I can. But you need to make sure you don’t give up, either—don’t resign yourself to fate. Promise me?”

Sobbing quietly, I nod my head, but I certainly feel resigned.

“Please, go.”

Another soft sigh from the silver cat.

“They shouldn’t treat you like this. Really. Your existence is rare—hell, even that devil realized what you were. Didn’t you notice?”

Is being a Sanga really so rare? I’ve never even sung for someone in battle. But then I think about it. What if I begged Rai for help? During the social? Perhaps—if I paired with him—he’s experienced and from what I’ve heard, violent. Maybe he’d be able to get me out of there—and he’d actually want to—if my gift is any good. Maybe I could ask him to train me? And maybe I could exchange… my body for training? If it’s him, I can imagine it. He was kind. I felt it. Even if he punished me, I know he’d at least be fair.

“Maybe I could beg Rai to get me out of here?” I whisper. “He’s a Touga, too, right? If he’s a bounty hunter? I know I don’t have a chance with a prince, but if he’s experienced and doesn’t have a Sanga, maybe—I don’t know. Maybe I could beg him to train me and get me away from here.” 

“Konoe,” Akira says and pauses for a moment. “He doesn’t have the best reputation. Even I had heard about him when I was training. I didn’t know he was one of the king’s sons. He’s made a name for himself as a hunter—one of the best around, who can hunt even demons—and he is not known for his mercy. Are you sure you can trust him? I mean—I know he sent you flowers, but—”

“Akira, he was kind to me!” I insist. “I know what I felt, and it was kindness. He liked me and was gentle. He didn’t force himself on me or make me uncomfortable—well, I was uncomfortable only because I was so flustered. But I just don’t if I am good enough for him. I didn’t know I was a Sanga. I don’t know if my song is any good.”

“It’s good.” Akira brushes my ears, crouching down next to the chair to meet my eyes. “Konoe, it’s really good. Especially if you have never sung for another Touga before, and you weren't singing for me, it was incredibly powerful.”

“Have you ever heard another Sanga’s song before?”

“Well, no—”

“How do you know it was good, then?!” I feel desperate. “I’m sure the silver cat will be able to tell I’m inexperienced. So I’d be willing to make up the difference however he likes—” 

“Ugh—you can’t be serious!” Akira says. “Don’t start the conversation or relationship that way! You’ll get yourself into a situation you can’t escape!” 

“It’s got to be better than what is going on here!”

“Konoe—it doesn’t, and it might not be. You'll just be getting yourself into another situation like this one! Sometimes the most violent people outside the bedroom are also the worst inside. Trust me on this. You haven’t had the same experience I have—and after mating season, things are completely different! It hurts. I had a chance to escape with the fencing instructor and I didn’t take it. There’s no way I’d submit my body or my will to his crazy ass whims!”

Akira’s words frighten me even more, but he has to leave before Virus returns.

“I’m sure Virus will be back soon—so please—”

And before I can finish my sentence, Virus’ familiar gait strides back down the hallway. It’s too late.

“What are you doing here, Akira? Don’t you have somewhere to be? I hope you’re not touching this kitten. He’s currently in the middle of a learning process.” 

“I couldn’t help it!” Akira says. “You shouldn’t treat him this way! I could hear his voice—behind two closed doors and closed windows. You’ve got to stop this. He’s valuable. What you’re doing to him will destroy him!”

Virus grabs Akira by the arm, yanking him up close, making his fur bristle, but Akira glares right back into Virus’ eyes without hesitation.

“You are not to tell me how to run my own school. Are you itching for another night with Shiki so much? I know he wants you. He’ll be for you at the social. You’ll be lucky if you’re in heat. But if you don’t get your ass back to your room right now, I’ll allow him special access to you beforehand.”

Akira’s ears lower, still bristled—and his tail bristles at the base in fear. I think I even see a shiver. He glances back at me.

“This is wrong. He’s a Sanga! You can’t do this—you don’t understand what that song is!” And he flounces out of the room. I can hear him stomping up the steps.

“Kitten, if I find out you have ever sung for that kitten again, you will be spending a lot of time in the tower. Do you hear me? That kitten is dangerous, and you’ve done something to him that you should have done to your bounty hunter. It was stupid. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s willful, but never like this. This is beyond ridiculous. It’s unseemly.”

He’s standing with his arms folded, staring down at me, and a few awkward moments pass. I want to get dressed. No—I want to bathe. I want that devil’s scent off my ears.

“Virus, I am sorry. I’ve never seen a devil before and I was scared, sir. I am very sorry for my actions.”

“I’m sure you are. You certainly look sorry,” Virus says.

“May I correspond with the silver cat?” I ask. 

Virus flattens his ears.

“What would you write?” 

“I-i’m afraid he won’t come. I haven’t heard back from him and I want him there.”

“He’s coming. I’ve heard from him, and he will be here,” Virus says. “Don’t worry. You need to trust me, kitten. Trust that I have your best interests at heart.”

That’s incredibly hard for me to do—as I lie here naked, my ass still burning and exposed on this chair. I don’t trust Virus in the least to look out for anyone but his own interests. I suppose if I wrote a letter to Rai, Virus would read it before I had a chance to send it. So I can’t beg for help.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, tasting a nasty bitterness on my tongue. “M-may I bathe? Please, sir?”

He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know, if you would obey me and submit to our guests, I wouldn’t be forced to punish you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” This response is mechanical, now—almost automatic. I hope it doesn’t sound as insincere as I mean it, or he will beat me again.

“All right. Get dressed and bathe in my chambers. Put on a robe, then see me in the office. I’ll treat your skin so it doesn’t do permanent damage.”

I wince—thinking of him putting his hands on me again. As well as his skin treatment, which is going to hurt like hell. But I’m relieved to be able to bathe. I still don’t move, though. I know better. I know to wait till I’m excused properly. And he is waiting a long time to do it. I still feel his eyes on me.

“You’ll do much better after your debut. I think you’ll be much less frustrated, Konoe. I know I will be.” He sighs again. “You’re excused.” 

Without looking up, I pull on my clothes as quickly as possible—and the fabric stings when it touches my skin. Even while I’m getting dressed, I can’t help thinking about Virus’ words. I’ll be less frustrated? And he will be? Shit—is he planning to fuck me, too? The thought revolts me, and that bitter taste of fear rises to my mouth again.

Gods. I have to get out of here!

For now, all I can do is bathe—and that’s what I do.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day—Saturday—is miserable. Bathing hurts my skin, and Virus' personal treatment is painful. Because I submit to his care, I am, however, permitted to rest till dinner—during which I am kept away from the other cats. I’m made to entertain Virus, who continues teaching me conversation and manners.

I’m sick of it, and sick of that cold blue gaze, peering down at me disdainfully.

Of course, I can’t say that. I’m exhausted after dinner, and Virus lets me go to bed—in his room, though I ask if I might be permitted upstairs. I want to see my bouquet, but I’m not allowed to be exposed to other students. He doesn’t punish me for asking, fortunately, and says tomorrow will be another intense day of training.

Sunday morning, after serving breakfast on my best behavior, both Trip and Virus have me practice dance lessons for three hours. They recruit Aoba for help, and dancing with him is much more pleasant than having either Trip or Virus touch me.

Trip has been giving me sideways glances all morning, making me nervous. But I absolutely cannot take another spanking today, and my feet are exhausted. I’m permitted to rest in Virus’ room—again, segregated from the other students—to read the paper.

I hear a horse galloping up outside, and I don’t think much of it. It’s the weekend, after all, and some students have had visitors. But I’m shocked when Trip fetches me from lounging on the couch in Virus’ room and says I have a visitor.

Of course, my hopes are lifted. I’m hoping it’s the silver cat—but I try not to think about it too much as I lace up my boots and straighten my uniform—and yes, I fix my hair and my fur, preening in front of the mirror briefly.

“Virus gave me this for you. Take it.” Trip has a pill in his hand, and I give him a strange look. “You can fight me if you want, but you are going to take it.”

I sigh, resigned, and take the pill and swallow it with the glass of water he presses into my hand.

“Open your mouth,” he commands gruffly. Is he actually checking to see if I swallowed it? Jeez. I obey, letting him press his finger around inside my mouth.

“Good boy. Now, don’t make him wait,” Trip growls at me, ushering me to the parlor.

When I’m pushed inside the room, the smell of winter floods my nose—freshly fallen snow and pine, mixed with something else—and my fur bristles. My body recognizes the scent before my mind realizes who it is, and I’m filled with anticipation and nerves. My eyes land on the tall, slender cat who stands up from the couch. My body floods with joy at the sight of him.

“Good afternoon, kitten,” the low voice purrs from the silver cat—my silver cat—Rai. No, that would be Prince Rai, who also happens to be a bounty hunter. His voice makes my fur bristle in my ears, and I can’t help staring at him. I hate to think about how I really do not possibly stand a chance with him. He’s so gorgeous.

“G-good afternoon, sir,” I manage, stepping up to him and taking his hand.

He surprises me again, flustering me like he did the last time we met, planting a featherlight kiss on the back of my hand. My ears and cheeks heat up, and I’m so unnerved I forget to bow.

“This is for you, Konoe.” 

He hands a single red rose, which I take carefully. The blossom is as big as my fist, and the flower is simply perfect. It smells wonderful, too—and oh, my gods, he just gave me a flower in person!

“Oh—um, thank you, sir—so much,” I say, unable to keep myself from blushing almost as deep in color as the rose. Daring to glance up to his face—and he is watching me intently with that gorgeous pale blue eye—I add, “Thank you so much for the lovely bouquet you sent as well. I’ve never seen such beautiful flowers.”

Rai’s soft expression breaks into a gentle, pleased smile.

“I’ll have this put in water for you, Konoe. Rai will be taking tea with you this afternoon,” Trip says. “Why don’t you show him around the gardens until then?”

The gardens? We have gardens?

Oh, right—I can see them from my window, but I haven’t gotten a chance to explore them myself yet, as I'm not allowed outside. I look at him solicitously—mostly to get him away from Trip, I think, curling my tail questioningly. I glance at the clock and it’s only 2 PM. Tea is usually served at 4 PM. Do we have two hours to ourselves? A flash of anxiety rushes through my body when I remember what Virus said about what would be expected from me, in thanks for that bouquet.

“That sounds lovely,” Rai purrs softly, taking my arm and pulling me out of the room behind him. His stride is long and graceful, and the fluffy white tail sways behind him temptingly. I long to touch it, but I don’t dare. Especially not now that I know who he is, and also because I don’t think I can do what is expected of me.

He’s leading the way through the downstairs, out the backdoor, and down the steps—as though he knows this place better than I do.

“Are you an alumnus? You know your way around better than I do, sir,” I ask softly, once we get outside. I’m following him toward the arbor that leads to the garden. It’s a densely wooded area and it’s quiet and peaceful. At first, I was relieved to be sent outside instead of that bedroom downstairs. Because if we are outside, I won’t be able to do that thing that is expected of me. But this place is awfully isolated and quiet. 

I can’t remember the last time I was outside—except when Virus belted me in front of the entire student body—and that memory isn’t pleasant. I push it out of my mind. It feels nice to have warm light shining down on my fur. 

“I am. My brothers and I were sent here for our education years ago,” Rai answers, slowing his pace and pulling my arm up alongside his body. He said "brothers." So for sure, more than just Koujaku. He matches my pace, his leg brushing against mine when we walk. 

Gods, I’ve forgotten how beautiful he is—even more gorgeous outside in natural light—and how nice he smells and how nice his voice sounds like it’s meant for my ears. My heart starts to race, and I feel terribly nervous. What am I supposed to do for two hours with him? Surely, this can’t be what Virus was talking about—when he said I would be expected to “thank him” using my body, is it? Not if we are outside?

I don’t feel any expectations or demands from the cat walking next to me, but he looks down at me occasionally as we walk along the garden path.

“I wonder if it’s still there,” Rai wonders.

“What?” I ask, so distracted that I forget my manners. I don’t even call him "sir."

“When I went to school here, there was a small grove just outside the garden. It’s a lovely place to sit and chat.”

Did he come all this way to sit and chat with me, I wonder? I don’t argue—and I definitely won’t complain—but my mind is filled with questions.

“Are you planning to come to the social on Saturday?”

“I am,” he says, and he meets my eye briefly. “I want to be there for your debut. I hear your studying has been going well.”

“Have you?” I ask, unintentionally letting my voice fall in embarrassment.

“You disagree?” He asks. “I heard from my brother that you are quite the dancer.”

So it's true, then. Koujaku is his brother—it’s officially confirmed. 

“I have a very good teacher,” I answer quietly.

“I can’t wait to see for myself.” He has led me past several lovely rosebushes and I hear the sound of flowing water. It really is pretty out here.

“Will you, um, be staying for the entire evening?” I ask as delicately as possible, keeping up my pace and not looking at him. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to discuss the evening, nor if I even want to discuss it.

Rai stops walking, and of course, I stop as well. He turns to face me and tips up my chin to meet his gaze. 

“Would that be all right with you?” His voice is quite serious.

Is he asking my permission? Surely—he’s a prince and he can do what he likes. He can’t know what actually goes on here, can he? Or wait—if Koujaku was Aoba’s first, perhaps he learned about it from Koujaku? This entire situation is awfully strange.

“I would like that very much,” I say, somewhat nervously. 

“Good. I’m glad.” He continues walking—toward the sound of water. Soon, the greenery opens up to a larger grove of trees—some are fruit trees, I think—many in bloom. The smell is soft and floral, delicate and sweet—and a sparkling stream meanders along the edge of the property. “Ah, it hasn’t changed.” 

“It’s lovely,” I muse—and it’s gorgeous—but what makes it perfect is that he is here with me now. It's very warm, I realize, and I loosen the cravat at my neck to breathe a little easier.

“Come, sit with me,” he urges. He is dressed in black today—except for the crisp white shirt underneath a black silk vest. Still military inspired, I think when I look at his outfit. Does he serve in the military? Is that part of his job?

I follow him toward the edge of the river, and it sounds lovely—like a song—ringing in my ears.

“D-do you know I am, um, a charity student?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the water, watching it flow gently and listening to its soft babbling.

He lowers himself to the ground abruptly and pulls me down beside him. We are awfully isolated out here. He could probably do anything he wanted to me and I wouldn’t be able to resist or get away. The thought shivers through my mind for a moment—especially when I hear the clanking of his sword and dagger as he sits down.

I’d say I was frightened—but after the week I have had, and the week I have ahead of me, I can think of much worse things: being here alone with Trip, or Virus, or Verg, or Arbitro, for example. The fear is enticing, in fact. But I start to worry—am I supposed to just "serve” him, as Virus and Trip taught me in the tower? Or do I wait for him to say something? I don’t know the etiquette. Isn’t it rude to touch royalty without express permission? But he’s touching me right now, and I don't dislike it.

I decide to wait and let him make the first move—and just as I come to my decision, he answers me, brushing his fingers through the fur on my ears, stroking them gently and tenderly—I feel kindness flowing from him.

“I know, yes. It’s one of the reasons I asked if you were all right with me coming to your debut.”

Wait just a moment. Does this mean he knows what will happen to me? Also, am I really okay with him seeing me strip in front of a roomful of strangers? And letting him watch Aoba pleasure me on stage? I shiver in disgust (but is it disgust, really?) at the thought—so I look up and find him watching me intently. He looks almost excited, a heated expression in his eye.

“I also heard that some aspects of your training might not be going so well.”

“Oh?” I say, trying not to sound strangled.

“Koujaku mentioned you looked exhausted and afraid. When we met I wouldn’t have used either of those words to describe you.” He tips his head to the side briefly, studying me closely. “I would have described you as fiery and willful. You do look exhausted.”

Is that a compliment? I don't know.

“I, um, am doing my best. For your sake,” I blurt accidentally. It’s true, of course—the only reason I haven’t tried to run away is because of him, but I didn’t intend to say it out loud!

“For my sake?” Rai asks, those small white ears perking up cutely on top of his head. “Now I’m intrigued.” 

“I, um, admired you when I first met you,” I say quietly, unable to return his gaze. “And you were very kind. I thought that, um, if I could impress you, you might offer to train me yourself.”

“Train you? How very bold.” He laughs softly—and I realize that isn’t what I meant. “Do you dislike the way Virus runs the school? Has he been cruel to you?”

“Sir, I don’t know how to answer that,” I say. Why is it so warm out here? My body feels quite sweaty.

“You can be honest, kitten. I was a student here myself, many years ago.”

“But—aren’t there some things I shouldn’t tell you? Because of who you are?” I ask delicately. “Sir?” I add it at the last moment, realizing I haven’t been very good with my manners. Why is it so easy to be comfortable around him?

“Who I am?” Rai purrs quietly, still amused. “And who do you think that might be?”

“Well, aren’t you, um, one of the late king’s sons?” I ask, my voice even quieter. I’m afraid to look at him.

“If I were, wouldn’t you call me ‘Your Grace’?” 

My fur fluffs out suddenly—when I realize the faux pas I’ve just made. I should be calling him Your Grace! 

“I-i’m s-so sorry,” I stammer. “I-i have b-been terribly d-disrespectful—Your Grace,” I add.

Rai smiles widely, showing his fangs—pearly and white and sharp. 

“Perhaps I can think of something you might do to earn your forgiveness.”

“Please—I d-didn’t mean to disrespect you!” I’m very anxious now, and I can’t seem to settle my fur.

“Then… close your eyes for a moment, kitten.”

I obey without a second thought, and something soft brushes my chin. His hand, maybe? It tips my head up a little, and then something even softer (and warmer) touches my lips. It’s a lovely sensation but surprising!

My eyes pop open—making all the hair on my body stand on end, shivering down my spine, bristling my tail. His face is so close—and I think—I’m pretty sure—he just kissed me!

He pulls away from me, keeping his fingers on my chin, stroking it gently. Each touch sends a rush of pleasure into my belly and hips—like I’ve swallowed a butterfly. Hot.

“You are very sweet,” Rai purrs softly. He taps my nose gently with the finger of his other hand and then releases. I am not sure I’m done kissing him yet!

“I apologize, sir,” I say softly.

“I didn’t say anything about it when I first met you, did I?” Rai asks, gently. “If I had wanted you to call me that, I would have mentioned something earlier. 'Rai' is fine. In fact, I’m about to ask you to drop the ‘sir,’ too.”

“I may be punished if I don’t call you ‘sir,’” I say, lowering my eyes.

“They’d punish you for that—even if I gave you permission?” Rai seems slightly surprised.

I realize I shouldn’t have said anything about punishments. What if he asks about them?

“I j-just w-want to show you respect, sir,” I say softly.

“Is the training here cruel?” Rai asks directly. “Is that why you’re asking me to train you instead?”

“Ah—actually, I meant, um, when I thought you were a bounty hunter,” I say quietly.

“I am a bounty hunter. Much more a bounty hunter than a prince, in fact,” he replies thoughtfully. “Are you interested in that trade?”

“N-not exactly, though I do have some experience with a sword,” I say. “It’s because of my talent.”

“Oh? And what is your talent?” He lowers his face toward mine a little as he asks—and it really feels like he’s interested. 

“I can sing,” I reply. Rai gives me an odd look. “I-i’ve been told I’m a Sanga. You are a Touga, right? So perhaps you could help me train?”

“A Sanga?” Rai asks, both his eyebrows lifted. “I had a feeling there was something special about you when I first laid eyes on you—and even more when you opened your mouth for the first time. You do have a captivating voice.” 

“D-do you already have a Sanga?” I ask hopefully.

“I don’t. I’ve never paired with one. In fact, in my line of work, they are incredibly rare. Has someone confirmed that you are indeed a Sanga? Someone who knows?”

“Well, just Virus,” I answer.

“I see. Will you be performing this talent on Saturday?” He is interested, though—I can tell by the way his tail is moving and how his ears look. 

“Y-yes,” and I lower my face again. “B-but I will also be subjected to humiliation. Um, I d-don’t think I am s-supposed to talk about it.”

“Humiliation?” He probes gently. “You feel like you will be humiliated?”

“Yes!” I admit. “Saturday, I am afraid I will come across as some thing to be used, and not the cat that I am.”

Rai sighs softly.

“It’s possible you may feel differently when the time comes. It’s almost mating season, after all. I assume this is your first?”

“Yes. But I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” I say in a huffy tone. But I look up at him questioningly again.

“It’s, um, hard to put into words,” Rai says, and it looks like he is trying not to smile. “But trust me when I tell you it’s possible you might feel different on Saturday.”

“I don’t believe it,” I mutter disagreeably, and then Rai actually does laugh in response.

“I had heard you were willful, but I didn’t know you were argumentative, too.” He runs his fingers through the fur on my ears. It feels incredible—even better than it did that first day we met when he touched me. Only then does it occur to me: is it because of that pill Trip fed me? “You have such lovely fur.”

I’m not sure how to respond to the compliment—especially coming from him. I mean, he’s a long-haired white cat, and that is incredibly rare. His skin is pale and perfect, his remaining eye is a gorgeous blue, framed with long, thick lashes—and he has the most attractive face and body I have ever seen. I have an urge to touch his tail, and it continues flicking around in the grass. I've never felt this way about another cat before.

“I’ve been unable to get you off my mind since I met you last week,” Rai states bluntly.

What? Really? I mean, Trip said he came to see me, but a part of me believes he is here on some other business and I just happened to be available.

“Did you really come to see me?” I ask.

“I did. I wanted to get a chance to talk to you—and check if you would be agreeable to accompanying me on Saturday.” His words sound strangely vague.

“I’d love to, but I think I will be expected to serve all the guests,” I say, deliberately not referencing the auction. “I think I may be the only one debuting. I’m not exactly sure what to expect.”

“I know about the auction.” 

“Oh. You do?”

“I received an invitation to attend both the social and the private auction afterward. However…” his voice trails off for a moment and he looks over my shoulder at the water for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to be sure my advances would be welcomed.”

My ears and tail twitch in confusion. Again, it sounds like he is asking for my permission or consent, and I don’t understand this. It was my understanding that my virginity was being auctioned off to the highest bidder, and I had no say in it whatsoever.

“What’s wrong?” Rai asks. “You don’t want me to bid on you?”

“Oh—that’s not it—I mean, I would love it if you did! But I was under the impression that I don’t have a choice in the matter. I haven’t had any choices since I’ve been here—except for how quickly to do as I’m told, and it’s never fast enough.”

“I am very patient,” Rai purrs softly—and his mouth is suddenly quite close to my ear. “And if it were you, I think I might be a good teacher.”

The very idea of the silver cat teaching me anything is incredibly hot and arousing. Even his voice has turned me on since the first time I heard it. And I think he is offering to teach me something in the bedroom. But isn’t he a prince?

“Are you allowed to do this?” I ask. “Aren’t you a prince?” 

“I am a prince and am allowed to do what I like and whom I please,” he answers low in my ear again, licking the tip just gently when he’s finished speaking. It sends a visceral shiver down my back into my tail. The sensation doesn’t disappear, either—it pools in my waist like when that devil shocked me.

“Whom?” I ask. I notice he didn’t say, “with whom,” but only “whom.” Huh. “Then why are you asking me?”

“I want to be sure you’re interested—and not too frightened of me. It wouldn’t be fun if you were interested in someone else. I don’t enjoy that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” I ask, almost breathless from the touch on and in my ear.

“Stealing the first sexual experience of someone who is unwilling—that isn’t my cup of tea,” Rai says.

Oh, my gods. He just said the word “sexual.” Like out loud. Holy shit. And I am being so immature about this. Why does it all sound so hot?

“You do realize what is being auctioned?” Rai asks. 

“Of course, I do,” I say. “The winner gets to spend the night with me.”

“That’s technically true. However, it’s your first time that is being auctioned—your virginity. That is why Virus so kindly waits till mating season, so it is less painful and more pleasurable for you and your guest as well.”

“Are the others not going to be auctioned?” I ask. Is it really just me? It can’t be.

“I’m sure the others will be as well, but some cats are willing to pay a premium for another’s first experience. You wouldn’t mind if I were the one stealing your first time?”

“N-no,” I say, tilting my head a little to escape the soft whisper in my ear. “I-if you would like to, then yes, I would be willing.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he purrs softly. “I asked if you wanted to be with me? In that way?” 

“Y-yes,” I say quietly, looking down at the hands in my lap.

“And not because someone has ordered you to say this or obey me?” Rai confirms.

“N-no. This is my own will. I think you are kind. And I think you are beautiful,” I breathe softly, shocked at the words that are coming out of my mouth, and my chin is nudged again softly. 

Once again, soft lips brush my top lip and then playfully nip my bottom lip. The nip frightens me a little, and then he presses both his lips to mine and touches my jaw with his fingers. It encourages me to open my mouth, and a lovely sound escapes that I didn’t know I could make. It’s a musical-sounding sigh, and it sounds eager, and a little desperate and pleading. My eyes are half-lidded and I see his fur bristle at the sound.

Rai’s tongue explores the front of my teeth, the tips of my fangs—he's hot!—isn’t he afraid I might bite? He strokes the back of my throat and pulls me in closer to his body, tipping my chin to the side with one hand and placing the other on my nape to cradle my head.

It feels so nice! No one has treated with me such tenderness since I’ve been here, and it’s almost heartbreaking.

For now, I just allow myself to be kissed—submitting to the touch. I feel like I am melting into his body—he is absorbing me with his warmth and heat. He moves from delving into my mouth to soft kisses on my lips and jaw, trailing down my throat.

When I feel him on my throat, my body jerks excessively. I’m not sure if it feels threatening or aggressive—but I think it does, just a little. Showing your throat to another cat implies submission, but I don’t really mind that feeling. I reach out and grab his silky hair in my hands—and his soft rounded ears are right in front of me. Tentatively, I tilt my head just enough to lick just the tip of his ears, and a warm sensation floods my chest. He feels soft—and I lick a little more. His ears are much thicker than mine—and they probably don’t turn inside out as easily. His fur is thick and silky, surprisingly—whereas mine feels much downier. I wonder if he gets plusher with a winter coat?

I am humming and sighing softly into his ears as I kiss and groom them gently, even daring to insert my tongue and delve deep inside. He is allowing this touch. A wave of shock goes through me when I realize I’m actually sitting here making out with the prince! 

My shirt is untucked from my trousers, making me shiver, and the buttons of my waistcoat are unbuttoned. His hands come up suddenly against my stomach, underneath the fabric of my shirt. He’s touching my belly and stroking the soft fur just beneath my navel, which should tickle and doesn’t. It doesn’t tickle at all. It makes me feel breathless and desperate, and the touch in itself is surprising and warm. His hands are large and he has callouses on them from holding his sword—on both hands. Does he wield the dagger at the same time, I wonder—in his left hand?

“You are so wonderfully responsive,” he murmurs softly, kissing my lips again. “And I love the sound of your voice.”

My voice! That’s right—I could sing for him… perhaps… maybe in a few minutes, but I am too busy enjoying these new sensations rippling over the surface of my skin. I want to touch his tail, too—stroke it—and feel the warmth of his skin against mine, but I’m too shy to undress him. Isn’t that rude? To touch the prince or undress him? I couldn’t possibly—not while we are out in the open!

I am getting overwhelmed and rather worked up from this kissing and soft caressing alone. Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt anything tender in such a long time—and a feeling wells up inside me. It’s a mix of joy and sadness—real grief—because I know he will leave soon. My heart starts to ache terribly as the emotions swell. My skin is sweating—his, too—and his scent gets even stronger. 

Something has to be done with these emotions or I may start to cry. I just am enjoying this small kindness—tenderness—so much that I never want it to stop. I have felt alone and struggled alone—even with Aoba and Akira alongside me—and this touch soothes me and calms my fears.

I feel grateful. I also want him to know that I want him to touch me even more. And I want to touch him.

The warmth inside my chest finally spills over like water into the rest of my body. Before I know what is happening, a soft warm light spills out and I start to glow. It’s hard to see the light at first—the moon of light is bright right now—but I know what is happening when my bones start to creak. My flesh vibrates gently, my skin shivers with the song, ruffling up every hair on my body.

I am singing for Rai, even without my intention to do so.

The song expresses what I want to tell him—that I want him here, I want to stay with him—as well as my deep desire for his touch and his kindness.

The moment my song overflows from my body, Rai’s ears perk up and he pulls away from where he is currently kissing my throat. That icy blue eye sparkles with warmth and excitement, and the fur on his tail bristles behind him, as it flicks back and forth.

“My gods,” he whispers. “You are a Sanga!”

Now, when I touch him, slim tendrils of light flow from my fingers to his body—even when we don’t touch directly, it feels like a physical touch to me. Can he feel it, too? While my feelings are now revealed and no longer desperately trying to escape the confines of my body, I feel dreadfully exposed—almost as though I have been stripped bare before him. It’s as if my soul has been stripped down to its essence.

I didn’t choose to sing. It feels as though he pulled the song from me.

He is listening, a soft smile on his face, shivering occasionally when his hands connect with my skin or my fur. To my surprise, I feel a gentle tug on my tail, the base brushed lightly against the growth of the fur. It feels so comforting and adoring it takes my breath away, and I gasp in response. I move in closer to him, climbing boldly on top of his lap, kneeling over him and pressing my nose to his shoulder and neck to breathe in that reassuring scent. I feel his erection when I press my body against his, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he can feel my excitement, too. He hums, the vibration moving through his body and accenting his deep rumbling purr, making my purr wetter and stronger.

I dare to kiss him now, as I’m straddling his lap—and I carefully put my hands on either side of his face and kiss his lips separately before letting my tongue run across his teeth and sharp fangs. One of my hands slides into his hair—letting silky silver strands slip through my fingers—while winding my other arm around his neck. He allows me to explore inside his mouth, and his tongue feels muscular and lean, just like the rest of his body. 

But… what is the meaning of this? What we are doing here? This caressing and touching and kissing?

Is it only to satisfy my desire or his lust? Because it feels like something more to me. I want to stay with him—and I want him to take me out of here. And he won’t be able to do that—at least, not today. He might not ever be able to do this. He’s a prince and I’m a simple cat from Karou.

Tears spill down my cheeks and I pull away.

“Oy, what’s wrong?” He whispers into my ear, dropping another kiss at the tip. Just that touch sends a ripple of indulgence down my spine and bristles my tail. My song starts to fade, and his ears look like they are straining to hear it. 

“N-nothing,” I reply.

“Don't cry. Do you want me to stop? Am I frightening you?”

“N-no, n-not at all! I-i just d-don’t want you to go!” The words come out in a soft whimper, and I’m ashamed of my tears. A powerful feeling of relaxation starts to flood my body, and my limbs get very heavy. “I’m s-sorry. I know better than that.” 

“Kitten, don’t cry,” Rai says. “I find you enchanting—captivating—and I would give anything to be able to take you home with me today.”

I sigh softly, looking up at his face. His words are tender—but does he mean what he says?

“You do realize, though, that isn’t possible today.”

I sigh heavily as my body starts to become paralyzed from the efforts of my song. I know Aoba’s story about Koujaku. Of course, Rai wouldn’t be able to get me out of here, either. I understand this. He’s a prince, for gods’ sake—and I am no one of consequence.

He chuckles softly.

“I’ll be here for you on Saturday, kitten.”

I quake a little, thinking about the social.

“I’m afraid you won’t like me after that event,” I admit quietly.

“Why would you say that?” He is moving my body gently as I melt against him. He seems to realize I am exhausted after the effort of my song.

“J-just—the evening that i-is planned—it’s vulgar. I’m going to be displayed in an obscene way, like some prize pig, and I’m afraid you won’t like me after I am used in that way.”

That is my greatest fear. 

“Konoe,” he says, tipping my chin up to meet his eye. “If I could stop what Virus is planning, I would. But know that I don’t blame you for any of this. I know what this school was like when I went here—and cases like yours have been treated this way for a long time. Don’t worry so much. I’m sure you will captivate me—as well as the rest of your audience.”

He kisses me again—gently—on the lips. 

“Listen. That song of yours is gorgeous. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, but know that you have one supporter regardless of what you are made to do on Saturday.”

Promises? Is he thinking of taking me with him? A soft sob escapes my mouth.

“What if—?”

“Don’t worry about it. There is nothing you could be made to do that would make me hold you in any less regard. So relax. Here, why don’t you lie down for a little while? Stretch out your legs and rest.” 

He presses me down in the grass and pulls my head into his lap. A sense of deep relaxation and paralyzing exhaustion covers my body. I am so weak!

“There you go. Now, close your eyes and rest.”

We spend the next hour in the grass, me opening my eyes every once in a while to see if he is actually still here, and him running his claws through my hair and my fur, massaging the base of my ears. A deeply contented purr escapes my mouth and I’m relieved to be here with him—even just at this moment. Perhaps it won’t serve me to worry about the future. It’s all right to enjoy this moment with him, right now.`

Chapter Text

We make it back to tea by four. I’m able to move on my own again by then, of course, and I serve Rai tea the way Virus has shown me the past few days. He is watching me like a hawk, and I find his presence to be more disconcerting than supportive. 

Strangely, Akira is watching me as well—and closely. And his face isn’t neutral. He looks really upset. Aoba keeps pulling at his sleeve and whispering to him, encouraging him to stay in his seat. But I’ve never seen the young silver-haired cat quite so agitated before. I wonder what is bothering him.

Rai and I have a pleasant conversation over tea—and since it’s a performance, Rai is careful not to put pressure on me. He touches my hand several times, which makes me ruffle up my fur. Also, he brushes my legs under the table with his legs. He has amazing long legs—and he feels free to wrap them between mine underneath the tablecloth. It’s sweet and endearing, almost like he is supporting me out of view of Virus and Trip.

Once the tea is finished—about 45 minutes later—and yes, the prince has attracted the sight of every student and staff member of the school, he stands up to leave. My heart feels like it’s breaking just a little bit. I don't want him to go. 

Virus walks over to the table.

“Thank you for joining us today, Rai. We’d love to have you anytime.” 

I bow my head politely, and Virus pinches the soft flesh on the inside of my upper arm. I try not to yelp, but I assume this means I need to speak.

“Um. Y-yes, sir. Thank you so much for honoring me with your presence.” 

“The honor and pleasure was mine, kitten. I look forward to seeing more of you on Saturday.”

Gods, he has no idea how much more of me he will be seeing on Saturday. I feel my ears blushing at the very thought.

“Ah—and for the rose, too, sir.” I grasp his hand and look in his eye in an unguarded moment. “Thank you so much. It’s just gorgeous.”

“Pretty flowers for pretty kittens,” he smiles softly, the tips of his fangs poking over his lips. Seeing them reminds me of what we were doing earlier out there by the river. Hot. I want to kiss him so much right now, but of course, that would be unseemly. However, Rai kisses the back of my hand. And to my utter surprise, he pulls me in close to him—in front of everyone standing there—and licks the tip of my ears and whispers sweet words into them. “You smell delightful. I can’t believe I will have to wait six days to see you again. I can hardly stand it.”

His whisper sends a little shiver down into my neck and spine, ruffling up my fur in its wake, leaving my ears and cheeks pink. Did he just breech etiquette for the sake of making me feel desired?

I am finding it very difficult to meet his gaze, and am staring at his fancy leather boots instead. He lifts up my chin, nudging it gently. I instantly look up at his lovely face, feeling a purr deep within my chest. 

“You’ll sing for me again, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir!” I say eagerly.

"I look forward to hearing your lovely voice." He smiles—almost sadly—and Virus sees him out, chatting away happily. I wait, watching his back as he leaves, that long, white tail swaying back and forth gently. I would give anything to grab onto that tail and groom it—never letting it go. But I remain standing for as long as I can. Rai turns around to tip his hat when he leaves.

Soon, Virus appears again at the top of the stairs.

“Konoe.”

My ears perk up anxiously. It’s almost never good when he says my name, but he looks pleasantly surprised.

“You did well this afternoon. You left our guest very pleased with you, and therefore, I am giving you the rest of the afternoon off to do as you like. You’re free to roam the grounds if you wish. I’ll see you in my chambers for dinner at seven.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, lowering my gaze humbly. I let out a huge sigh of relief and head back out into the garden. I’m surprised to hear someone hot on my heels, though. I look behind me and it’s Akira. “Wha—?”

I don’t even get a chance to ask what he wants. He just yanks my arm and pulls me in another direction, down a different path. I had been heading back to the river where I spent the afternoon with Rai. I had been planning to return there to bask in the memories of kissing and gentle touching, but my plans have been interrupted by Akira’s ideas.

“Shut up,” he says. He’s angry. What did I do?

“What’s wrong?” I ask, somewhat nervously. Akira isn’t much bigger than me, but he is in much better physical condition. And he is definitely pissed. I wonder if he didn’t know Rai was interested in me, and perhaps he also had his eyes on the silver cat. That wouldn’t surprise me since many students like the prince. But there isn’t much I can do about it now.

“Akira, what is it?” I ask again. “Rai came to see me—I didn’t have much control over that.”

“Shut up,” he repeats. “Don’t speak.”

He is dragging me along behind him, walking fast—and I realize we are still on the school property but in an area I haven't yet explored. We are in a dense forest on a narrow path, and he takes me down a path even more narrow, which opens into a small glade, which is covered with a strange-looking grass I have never seen before. No—not grass. This looks like an herb, like mint. It smells strangely minty but isn't exactly mint.

He sits down in the middle of the herbs—it seems to be growing wild here, not a part of the garden, and pulls me down beside him. The scent of the herb floods my nose the moment I am pulled down into it—and I realize this is the same scent as what is used in the bathroom soap and shampoo. It smells really nice!

I was nervous, at first, being here alone with Akira, but now—with this lovely smell in my lungs—I feel much more at ease.

“You sang to him.”

Akira’s voice sounds weird—like it’s being piped through a tunnel or tube or something, echoing strangely in my ears, and I don’t understand the meaning of his words at first.

“What did you say?” I ask, taking another deep breath.

“You sang to him—you sang to the silver cat. I heard you while I was inside the house.”

“That’s not possible.” It couldn’t be possible. I was singing quietly, and we were far away from the house, too. There’s no way he could have heard me from that distance! 

“Your voice—your song—it echoes deep in my heart. I could hear you singing for him. And you meant to sing to him. You want him to take you away from here, and away from me. Why do you trust him and not me? You don’t even know him!”

“What?” I ask again. I am confused. I don’t understand what is wrong with me or why Akira is so agitated. There is nothing to be upset about. I spent a lovely afternoon with my silver cat, and he loved my song—I pleased him, I pleased Virus, I am not in trouble. So why is Akira upset? “I did what I was supposed to do, Akira. Why are you so upset?”

“Konoe, I want to help you escape from here. I want you to stay with me. I want to escape with you and I want you to stay with me.”

“What?” I ask. I’m really confused now. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

“Let me show you.”

Akira leans down and kisses me—on the lips. And I let him. The scent of the herb is making his kiss awfully hard to resist. His lips are soft and full—and they are the perfect size. He feels good—his touch feels really gentle and genuine. 

But wait just a minute. Why is he kissing me?

I try to pull away, but he has me pinned on my back in the middle of this heavy, rich scent, and I can’t fight him off. He is panting heavily, breathing onto my neck and throat, kissing my mouth, diving deep inside with his tongue without hesitation.

“I want you, Konoe. I want you to stay with me—as my Sanga.”

What? What is this? What is he doing? Isn’t he my friend? 

“Stop—please—Akira—w-wait,” I try, but I’m interrupted by his touch again. I feel his hands undoing the buttons on my vest and shirt, and he is moving quickly. I try to stop them, but I’m only haphazardly stopping him, unable to move as quickly as he can. Soon, his hands flatten against my bare skin and it feels good. It feels tender. It feels loving and even a little possessive. It’s a little frightening, however. 

Do I want this? I'm not so sure, but I have a hard time resisting.

“Relax, Konoe. I know you want this, too. You sang for me—when we were in Virus’ room the other night. You sang for me first—before you sang for the silver-haired bounty hunter. I know you want me, too.”

“W-wait—I d-didn’t mean to sing for you,” I whisper against his mouth.

“Of course you did,” he replies, and he goes for my belt. I don’t protest. I can’t. My body is very heavy—in fact, I feel sleepy and my arms are too heavy to lift. I can’t lift them off the ground. I turn my head and my nose is flooded with that herbal scent.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

My heartbeat throbs loudly in my ears. I can almost see my pulse in the corners of my vision, and my chest tightens painfully.

“Wait—p-please,” I beg, but I still can’t resist.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” Akira says. 

And I believe him—my body is still quite excited from when Rai was playing with me and caressing me—and more than anything I want that silver cat. But he isn’t here. Instead, I have this silver cat being tender with me. He isn’t being rough, except for how he is stripping off my pants. He moves my pants down to my knees and then lowers my underwear just enough to expose my erection, which is hot and dripping. 

I shiver when I feel the cool breeze sweep across the bare skin of my hips. A small meow escapes my mouth and Akira’s ears twitch.

“Sing for me,” he whispers. “Sing for me like you sang for the hunter.”

“Akira,” I protest. I really don’t think I can—not while I’m feeling like this, anyway. “I c-can’t…”

“Konoe—sing for me.” He grabs my cock and I feel something hot and hard pressing up against me—is it his cock? Oh, gods—it feels so good! My body sinks into the earth below me, covered with that strange minty grass, blanketing me from my head to my toe. Akira’s other hand grasps my tail and strokes from base to tip.

A loud purring sigh escapes my mouth, and I feel Akira’s hand stroking our cocks together. It’s wet and slick from the moisture seeping from both of us. He takes his hand away for a moment and licks it, and that adds even more lubrication. I meow in satisfaction and close my eyes.

However, a slight feeling of apprehension washes over me—I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be allowing him to touch me in this way—but I can’t remember why. My brain isn’t functioning properly, but I know there is an important reason I shouldn’t allow this. I just can't remember!

“Akira,” I purr softly. “I-i think w-we shouldn’t b-be here together like this—please!”

“Konoe, you’re so gorgeous. Let me hear your voice. Sing for me!”

That’s right—because I want to be with my silver cat, with the prince, the prince with whom I have no chance at all. That is why I shouldn’t be here with Akira! My heart breaks and aches and throbs. 

“Please,” I beg.

“Just… sing for me.”

His voice is so soft and yet so demanding at the same time, and his touching, his caressing, and the scent surrounding me and also his scent, strong and sweet—all combine to something irresistible. I can’t hold back, and my heart feels like it might burst.

My song spills out in the form of my feelings.

It’s a sad, mournful song, however—but it expresses a hot desire and the pleasure of being touched—and it’s loud, much louder than when I sang for Rai, almost as though I am calling him. It flows my body and across the surface of my skin, ringing out in my ears, and it sounds so weird—again, like my own voice is being piped through something metal.

My vision is soft and fuzzy—I can see Akira’s blue eyes and his silver shaggy hair—a darker shade than my prince’s hair—and his touch is mesmerizing. I want him—I want them both, actually—but my heart grieves for the prince I will never have. Tears spill down my face and Akira leans in to kiss them away, never stopping his hand.

“What the hell!?” A familiar voice sounds far away. “My gods, what the fuck are you doing? You’re fucking him?!”

Akira turns his head and stops his hand, and I meow in complaint, my song getting louder and more demanding.

I hear footsteps, also from far away, and several angry voices—but I can’t make out their words. My mind isn’t functioning. What is wrong with me? And why did Akira stop?

Suddenly, Akira is yanked away from me, and I hear someone yelling, “Thank the gods you didn’t go further!”

“You stupid cats, what were you thinking?”

“You’re really in for it now—the both of you! What the fuck is the matter with you two?!”

Anger is all I can understand from the tone coming into my ears and sobs spill from my mouth, my chest hitching desperately. I become very afraid.

“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt Akira!”

“Hurt you?! By the gods, you will repent of this act if that’s the last thing you do!”

My body is yanked off the ground and that peaceful feeling I’ve been flooded with dissipates in an instant. 

“Trip, I’ll get the little one. You take Akira. He’s fighting, but he should be easy enough to handle because of the catnip. Bring them both to the tower. Now. The rest of you, this doesn’t concern you! Get back to whatever you were doing!”

“But what was that sound?”

“It’s none of your concern!” I've finally recognized Virus’ voice, and fear jolts my body. I realize I am being carried, still half undressed. Shame floods my body when I realize I'm probably being partly exposed over Virus’ shoulder.

“Trip—did you know that patch was there? Gods! We have a patch of catnip right on campus and I didn’t even know?!”

“It was well-hidden. I mean, it grew like a weed there. It’s a cash crop, man.”

“You fucking idiot!” 

I feel sick, and I hear Akira struggling violently.

“Stop your struggling,” Trip says suddenly, and I hear a sickening smack—probably a blow to Akira’s face. Won’t it show? If he’s supposed to be on display this weekend? Is this my fault?

I am filled with fear when I finally begin to come back to myself. My head still feels a little fuzzy, but I recognize the steps leading back inside, and dread floods my body when I am brought upstairs to the tower.

Chapter Text

“You should absolutely know better, Akira,” Virus is saying. I am still feeling strange—from the weird-smelling grass and that pill Trip made me swallow a few hours ago. Plus I’m exhausted from my song. I can’t move yet—my limbs are still heavy. My clothing is disheveled and I’m lying on the floor in the small, damp room up in the tower. 

“He’s not like us!” Akira is yelling and struggling with Trip. “You can’t handle him this way. You can’t treat him like you treat us. You have no idea what he is, how special he is!”

“Shut your mouth,” Trip growls. “You’ve been with us long enough to know what happens when you touch what doesn’t belong to you.”

“If you could have waited at least a week, your punishment wouldn’t be nearly so severe. You know this. And now, I have to punish you both—and so soon before your debut. You’ve left me no choice. I have to be creative.” Virus sounds full of regret, but his tone is false, and it makes me shiver.

“I forced him to come with me,” Akira says. “He didn’t do anything on his own. He didn’t stand a chance against me.”

“That may well be, but I’ve already informed him of the consequences—that he would suffer punishment if he allowed anything to happen!”

“You’ve done much worse to him already! I didn’t even—” 

“We know exactly what you were doing!” Snaps Virus, making my fur bristle. I’m terrified. “I see you feel remorse, though, Akira.” Then he glares down at me.

“I-i am s-so s-sorry,” I stammer desperately. “I-i d-didn’t e-even kn-now wh-what was h-happening! Trip g-gave me s-something b-before I s-saw the s-silver c-cat—”

“Ah, right. I’m sure the effect of the catnip was paralyzing because of that aphrodisiac. But you should have stayed away from it and Akira, in that case,” Virus says, his blue gaze boring into me.

“I don’t even know what catnip is!” I burst out.

“I brought him there! I was angry!” Akira says, finally struggling out of Trip’s grip and moving between Virus and me. “It’s my fault. Please—don’t punish him! You already treat him much too harshly—much more harshly than you treated either Aoba or me, and he is not nearly so rebellious!” 

Virus grabs Akira’s jaw, growling low in his throat.

“You have no right to tell me how to run this school. And if I catch your meaning, the last thing you want is to see this cat punished?”

“He’s a Sanga! He’s worth more than this entire school has to offer! You don’t understand how rare he is!” Akira shouts, glaring right back at Virus. 

“Restrain him,” Virus says to Trip, and Trip grabs Akira’s arms roughly, pinning them behind his back. Akira fights back hard—kicking, scratching, biting—and I see fur fly. I am terrified because I can’t move and the space is very small.

“Please!” I beg. “Please—stop this!” 

“You should not be begging for mercy for him, kitten. You ought to be much more worried about yourself,” Virus growls.

Within a few minutes, Akira is pushed onto his knees and forced into that wood restraint—his wrists and ankles bound heavily behind him. He is exhausted, and his hair is even messier than usual—and he is pissed.

“You don’t know!” He continues to insist—and I wish he would just stop. I am terrified—for him and now for me.

“Shut up,” Trip growls, grabbing his hair and forcing him to look at Virus. 

“What comes next is all on you,” Virus says, looking at Akira. I am grabbed roughly—still unable to move or defend myself—but my fur bristles and I meow in fear.

“Don’t—don’t touch him! Please!” Akira cries out. 

Before I know what is happening, my clothes are stripped off my body—quickly and efficiently—and I am left a mess of quivering skin and fur on the floor in front of Akira.  

“Please—don’t—don’t hurt him!” Akira begs again, terror suddenly flooding his face, which in turn frightens the hell out of me. “Please—I’m sorry! Please!”  

“You know Konoe can’t move or defend himself after he sings—and he sang—for you, Akira. He is like this because of you,” Virus says cruelly, poking me with his foot.  

My tail twitches nervously, and a small sound slips out of Akira’s mouth.

“You haven’t witnessed his prescribed treatment yet, have you? You've only heard the results from afar? This is what Arbitro suggested for him—to soften him up for his debut. Keep in mind, he has to go through all of this now because of you.”

“Please,” Akira says softly.

“Trip,” Virus growls. I feel my body being shifted around—I’m turned to my stomach and my legs are pushed up underneath me, my torso left flat on the ground. My head is turned toward Akira, however, so he can see the fear in my face. Tears brim in my eyes. I know what is coming, and my fur bristles. 

“Don’t,” Akira whispers. “I will take it—I will take it!”

“It’s too late for that,” Virus says, and I feel that heavy wooden hairbrush slap against my ass—hard—once. I let out a loud cry. I see Akira visibly flinch to the sound of my voice, as though he himself has been struck.

The punishment is much different than the usual swift and business-like spanking I am used to. These blows come one at a time—each blow hard and loud against my defenseless body—each smack drawing a loud cry from my lungs—and each time I cry, it’s as though Virus is also punishing Akira—as though every one of my cries physically hurts him. 

Suddenly—it occurs to me that this is my doing—because I sang to him—not once, but twice. He can feel my voice, the pain in my voice—and it is my fault he is hurting, my fault he was angry, my fault he dragged me off the garden path into the catnip. All of this is my fault! I deserve this punishment more than any other punishment I have been subjected to since I’ve been at this place. Tears spill down my cheeks and regret floods my body and into my cries—and that only hurts Akira even more. 

I don’t know what to do! 

“Please—don’t—ah!—look!—ah!” I cry out, but not looking isn’t going to help. What is hurting the silver-haired cat is my voice. My voice is causing him pain. I can’t believe this. Never in my life have I wanted a punishment to just hurry up and be done with more than I do right now. This is just cruel!

Next, I try pleading with Virus.

“Please—won’t you just—please—hurry it up and finish?!” I cry out, desperate. He is spanking me hard with that brush, but slowly, deliberately, making the punishment ever more painful for Akira and for me—and my ass is on fire. It would hurt me just as much to get it all out of the way quickly, I think. I know Virus is being deliberately slow.

“This is Akira’s doing, Konoe. Don’t allow him to seduce you next time. I warned you to protect yourself. I said you’d be a target!” Virus isn’t even close to being winded, and Akira is already a mess. Tears are dripping down his face, and he hasn’t even been physically touched yet. 

My heart is breaking.

I had no idea that my voice could cause harm to anyone. I can’t control it, so I try to bite my lip or the inside of my cheek, drawing blood, allowing as little sound as possible to escape. That makes Virus spank me harder—aiming lower on my ass, where my thighs connect—and it hurts so much more. Even when small grunts escape my throat, Akira shakes and flinches as though he is being physically beaten himself.

I’ve never seen him cry before—ever—and I’m shaken.

“Please! Stop! I will take his punishment—stop this!” He begs—unable to take his eyes off my face. “He’s special—just stop!” 

His sobs hurt my chest and make my pain worse—and I cannot stop my tears. I know this is my fault. If I had never sung in the first place, he would not be in this position. I feel terrible—filled with guilt and remorse.

I am begging and pleading, repenting—saying how sorry I am, and Virus continues the slow, extended punishment—and it lasts several long minutes—so much longer than usual—till finally, he stops.  

“You can hear him even in your room, can’t you?” Virus asks, running his hand over my ass lightly.

“Yes,” Akira sobs. “Please, this is enough. I will—I will never touch him again.”

“I’m sure you won’t. But we aren’t finished. Unfortunately for you, you have a guest this evening.”

“What?!” Akira pales. 

“And Konoe will be spending the night up here, in the tower, where we will be seeing to his punishment regularly—so you will have the pleasure of hearing him while you are entertaining your guest.”

“Please! No!”

My fur bristles in fear—does he mean I will be here all night? 

Virus smacks me again, and I shiver in pain.

“Restrain the kitten on the bed. But don’t get too comfortable. We will see to you again shortly.”

I am lifted up onto the twin bed, my arms pulled out in front of my body, my wrists tied to the headboard, and a pillow pushed under my hips. I’m left naked—and smacked again for good measure. With my ass lifted up, I’m a perfect target. I cry into the mattress, trying to be quiet, but Akira is still sobbing. Who is his guest? What is going to happen to him? What have I done?

“Now, you know that this particular guest isn’t fussy about your appearance, but you most likely should get the scent of this kitten off your body before he arrives. Trip, make sure he gets a shower and then bring him to the guest room.”

Trip undoes Akira’s restraints and drags him down the stairs—I hear him thumping loudly as he goes, but I don’t think he’s resisting. I think he’s exhausted and resigned. I’m scared out of my wits.  

“I hope you have learned your lesson, kitten. Well. I shouldn’t say that. One of us will be up here again shortly, so you should rest while you have the chance.” Virus says almost kindly, brushing my ears with his hands. “And you did so well with the bounty hunter today. I was so proud of you. But I told you not to sing to Akira again—and this is what happens when you disobey. He is dangerous.”

As he is brushing my ears gently, he smacks me again—hard—with the brush and leaves it on the bed next to me. I can’t touch it since my arms are restrained, plus I haven’t got the strength to move yet. I am miserable. I feel terrible.

 “I am so sorry—I didn’t know,” I sob. 

“I’m sure you are. But you’re not nearly as sorry as Akira is about to be. He is about to spend the night with his least favorite and most enthusiastic client—outside of the mating season. And he will have the pleasure of hearing your cries all night long—in addition to his own suffering. And it’s all his own doing. I’ll see you in about half an hour.”

I swallow a lump of fear—my stomach feels heavy. Is this the fencing instructor—Shiki—that Akira warned me about? The one whose sole purpose is to “break you”? My gods. I think I am going to be sick. 

Virus walks away, and I hear his footsteps walk down the stairs.

He’s as good as his word. Every 30 minutes for the rest of the evening, he returns back up those stairs and spanks me several more times—slow and hard—covering my ass and thighs as well as he can, making me scream. I know he is doing this to torture Akira, and I try so hard not to cry out. But if I don’t cry, he only spanks harder. By his third visit, I am crying after the first blow. I can’t hold out anymore.

And after dinner, it’s Trip who visits me—a dirty gleam shining in his eye. And he spanks harder and faster—punishing me gleefully—and it’s easy to give him the cries he is asking for and expecting from me. After that, the visits slow to once per hour, and then once every two hours—throughout the night. 

When the sun comes up, I’m given another hard and fast spanking—also by Trip—over the top of my bruised skin—and it hurts so much that I cry out louder than I have so far. I'm exhausted.

I can only imagine what my cries are doing to Akira. I try to sleep in between their visits, but I can’t. I lie there awake, my ears straining, trying to listen for anything from the silver Touga—listening for his voice and to hear what is happening to him. And I hear nothing. That is more terrifying to me than hearing him cry or scream. I worry something serious has happened to him. 

The silver bounty hunter feels uneasy when he returns from Applebaum’s. He can’t place the feeling—but an unsettled feeling washes over him about halfway back to his estate on the outskirts of Ransen. It’s almost disconcerting enough to turn his horse around and return to the school—since the feeling has a lot to do with that blonde kitten, he thinks. But this is a feeling, just a vague feeling. He doesn’t have much experience with feelings in general. Perhaps this is just feeling uneasy about leaving something so precious in Virus’ care.

A Sanga. How lucky is that?! He can’t believe it. This might just be the perfect excuse to take him from the school after the social. He tries to distract himself from the discomfort—and it fades a little, the farther he gets from the school, thankfully.

He knows Koujaku had an issue with Aoba. But that was two years ago—when their father was still alive. There was no way Father would have permitted any of his sons to purchase a charity student from that school—especially not a dancer. But Koujaku followed his passion against their father’s wishes and became a dance instructor there, and he fell hard for the blue-haired cat. Yet—he failed to follow through after the death of the king. 

Their brother—Nano—who sat on the throne now—well, he wouldn’t give a flying fuck one way or the other what either of them did, nor with whom. 

Which reminded Rai… perhaps he should garner Nano’s support in his pursuit of the blonde kitten. In fact—wasn’t there another charity case that might appeal to the king? As he’d heard from Koujaku, the silver-haired petite and muscular cat who was eyeing him so harshly today had a peculiar skill that would certainly be attractive to Nano. And Nano was overdue for some time away from the castle.

He’d send him a letter and invite him along as his guest. Hopefully, even if he didn’t find something to suit his own of interest, he would understand both his brothers’ attraction to the students in question. Plus, Rai might have better bargaining power with Virus for all three charity students. Imagine the prestige the school would gain!

Still, Rai wished this uneasy feeling would go away. Once he returns to his home, it’s almost completely faded—only to return within about a half an hour. It’s strange. The discomfort floods his body in the same way that peaceful song flooded him not three hours earlier. He remembers it viscerally. The kitten’s soft glow, the pure tendrils of light, the wonderful sound, and the sense of touch from the light, like soft feathers brushing against his skin. He could hear the kitten’s feelings, too. 

Take me with you. Don’t leave me here. I’m so afraid. Please, I trust you. I want you. More than anything I’ve ever wanted, I want you.

He was frightened by Rai’s touch, too—just a little, as he should have been. Rai is famous for violence. But something about this kitten was endearing and precious. He couldn’t help touching him, putting his hands underneath the fabric of his shirt and brushing against the soft tuft of fur just below his navel. And when Konoe climbed into his lap, bolding kissing him, digging his hands in his hair, licking his ears with that soft, smooth tongue—Rai was smitten.

Fortunately, the discomfort lasts only about five minutes before it dissipates, leaving Rai with a sense of relief. But then, a half an hour later, and again a half an hour after that, he experiences it once more—while he is writing the letter to Nano and then having a late, light supper. He is bothered by this. 

Even at night—he wakes hourly to the same sense of unease. Has something happened? He gets almost no sleep. This makes him come to a decision, however. 

One way or the other, he will bring that kitten home. Whether as a purchase or by killing anyone standing in his way, that Sanga was his. Recruiting the king’s help in either case made perfect sense. 

That night was the most painful of Akira’s life.

My fault. It’s my fault that magical creature is suffering. If I had just left him alone, he wouldn’t be suffering. I wouldn’t be suffering. 

Akira’s guest is the fencing instructor, Shiki, and is waiting for him less than patiently when Trip brings him into the guest room wearing nothing but a robe. 

“Ah. He’s been prepared for me,” his silky voice floods Akira’s ears unpleasantly. He hates the slimy sound of that voice—this person who has subjected him to all manner of pain and torture since his arrival, who was recruited especially to force his obedience. 

Trip leaves them alone, and Akira won’t look at him. 

“What is it? You’re my most treasured student, Akira. You won’t even look at me?” 

That is when he hears the young Sanga’s voice cry out in pain. Akira is shocked by the physical pain it causes—even at this distance. Is it because of the song? He doesn’t know. But it hurts his chest and brings him to his knees, his ears twitching and clutching at his robe.

“Now that is a look I adore.” 

Akira raises an angry glare at Shiki. This has nothing to do with him! He can’t hear Konoe, he’s sure. Shiki is also a Touga—but he hasn’t heard the kitten sing yet. He can’t hear him sing. Once he does, it will be all over for him—the blonde won’t know what hit him.  

“Defiance. That’s more like it. Have a rough day? I’ve never been given the privilege of training you this close to the season.”

Akira wants to drown out the Sanga’s cries—he can’t stand them. They are so painful—my fault, my fault, my fault—and he covers his ears. It does nothing since the song rings in his heart more than in his ears. 

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Shiki growls. He has approached Akira and grabs his arm.

Akira has almost forgotten he’s in the room with this terrifying cat—black fur, black hair, pale skin, red eyes—fangs that want to devour him and a body that surely is going to fuck him till he can’t walk tomorrow. He bristles his fur and draws his claws and fangs—but is too late.

“You know I like you spunky. Get on the bed.”

His robe is yanked off, unceremoniously, and Akira knows better than to fight too much. He knows it will be worse if he fights—and with the Sanga’s pained cries ringing in his head, he can’t fight. If only Konoe would sing, he might have a chance to defend himself against this bastard.

He’s pushed onto the bed face down, red silk bedding underneath his body. He’s seen these sheets up close many times. He can only hope Shiki is in a desperate state tonight. He doesn’t move but doesn’t lift his tail or open his legs.

Surprising to him, his legs are yanked back toward the edge of the mattress, bristling his fur. A small yelp escapes his mouth, and he growls. His claws catch on the sheets when his tail is grabbed roughly. 

“It’s been a while. Let’s see if your body still remembers its master.”

“I have no master,” Akira mumbles—and a gloved hand smacks his ass. He hears a growl in his ear—and feels a large body hovering behind him—the squeaky feeling of leather pressing against his legs and thighs.

No preparation—not even a finger—just his tail is yanked hard and his hips are grabbed. And that hot heat presses inside him—slowly rather than all in one go as Shiki often does. The slow penetration should hurt less, but it doesn’t. He feels like he is being torn apart, that his organs are being pushed around inside him, that a foreign hot mass is being shoved into him—and no matter how many times this has been done to him, it always feels the same. 

I hate this.

A low growl and hiss escape Akira’s lips, and he tries to struggle—but again, he is too late. Shiki has grabbed him like a vice and continues to advance inside of his body, invading him to his very core—as though flaying him from inside out.

I deserve this—and worse—for hurting the Sanga.

Akira is flooded with despair, and his voice cries out in pain and sorrow.

“I’m rewarded with your voice tonight,” Shiki murmurs frightfully in his ear, biting down on his shoulder. He is now completely buried inside Akira's body, and starts thrusting right away—no break, no adjustment. And it’s painful, burning, searing heat.

Akira cries out with each thrust at first—and it does gradually get smoother—and worse, his body starts to respond when Shiki’s hands move from their vice-like grip on his hips that will inevitably leave bruises to his shaft—pinching the head between his fingers. 

A sigh he can’t suppress leaks from his mouth, and he feels dirty and taken—and broken.

“Your body does remember its master,” Shiki mocks.

With the way the larger cat is moving his hands, it isn’t long before Akira’s hips start to move—helplessly—wanting release—desperate for it—even despite or possibly because of the pain. The depravity of what is being done to him isn’t lost on him, and it’s so different from the way the Sanga felt this afternoon—the tender kisses, his soft lips, his responsive and submissive body—and that gorgeous song. But Akira can’t help responding this way. Indeed, he has been trained to respond this way when Shiki had him for an entire week last year. He feels disgusted with himself. 

I deserve this.

When his climax threatens to overtake him, he is flooded with despair and grief, especially when his shaft is grabbed at the base and Shiki suddenly stops moving.

“No. I want you to beg me for it,” the silky voice whispers huskily in his ear.

In the past, Akira would have held out—he would have refused. He would have shaken his head and stayed right where he was and rebelled. Or he would have tried to, at least. But now, he knows he has no chance. He is already broken—at least before this cat, in this bedroom—being fucked like this. 

“Please—I want to come. Please.” His voice leaks out of his mouth desperately. Really, he just wants the act to finish, and he knows Shiki won’t finish until he does. It’s his own sick pleasure. 

“What a good boy,” he purrs, and immediately begins the violent thrusting once again—taking Akira by surprise as always and chasing him to his limit. The soft gasping sighs in his ear are horrifyingly arousing, and that is what brings Akira to the edge and lets him release, spilling into the hand that is handling him so roughly.

Along with his release, the awful despair floods him once again, especially when Shiki climaxes inside of him, leaving behind that disgusting slimy feeling inside of his body—it feels just like his voice sounds, dripping down the insides of his thighs instead of into his ears.

Akira is in a daze, not noticing when he is moved onto the bed—ignoring Shiki pulling him into his arms and against his chest for a few minutes, grooming his ears and his hair gently. Akira doesn’t feel anything but numb—until the Sanga cries again. He curls up on himself, his chest caving in, clawing at his bare skin. 

“Oy, what is the matter with you tonight?” Shiki asks, and he is actually stroking Akira’s back gently. “You seem genuinely upset.”

Of course, Akira won’t tell him—he can’t say anything. If Shiki knew about the Sanga, Konoe would be in even more danger. 

And that also would be my fault.

So he suffers in silence. The rest of the night, Konoe cries every hour, then every two—and each time, Akira wakes up in pain from those cries. 

I deserve so much worse than this.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Akira can barely move. Shiki has left in the early morning hours, and he finds himself alone in the bed, sore, bruised, and unable to walk. He tries to get up to bathe—more than anything he wants to scrub the scent of that other abusive cat from his skin and hair—but can’t even stand on his own two feet, so he collapses to the floor and crawls back to the bed.

This is a common occurrence after visits from this particular guest—however, with the upcoming social event, Akira has some concerns. He is nervous about seeing Shiki there again, and him being won at the auction for the night, and while he should be in heat, they have never been compatible. That leaves him with more comfortable penetration but the feeling his fur is being brushed the wrong way—and that’s if Shiki doesn’t do anything specifically to hurt him, which would also be unusual.

For now, he waits for Virus or Trip to come in and tell him what will happen to him today. The little Sanga hasn’t been punished for two hours, however, much to his relief. He hopes that is the end of it for Konoe's discipline.

Soon, the door is unlocked and opened, and standing there is Virus, carrying the kitten. Akira sits up in the bed when he notices Konoe. He looks broken—and he’s naked—his ass and thighs are bruised and welted. 

Akira’s heart breaks. 

I’m in Virus’ arms when I realize he’s carried me down to one of the guest rooms. I was thankful not to receive another punishment on top of the welts I already have, but when he lifted me out of bed, it was because I couldn’t walk on my own.

Now, in this guest bedroom, he lays me on the bed, face down, next to Akira. 

My face is turned toward the silver cat—and he looks awful. He looks more broken and used than I have ever seen him—and his eyes are red and swollen from tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. And that makes fresh tears spill from my eyes. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t sung in the first place!

“Now, now,” Virus says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You two only have five more days before the social, and you still have a lot to learn. But the one thing both of you need to learn first is submission. This punishment is the result of direct disobedience. Both of you should know better. Especially you, Akira. But Konoe, we have been trying to teach you this since day one.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper quietly into the mattress.

“There is a punishment I have in mind for you, kitten—” Virus strokes my welted ass as he speaks, “But I want to be sure that you will not be too beaten down or exhausted by the weekend. However, I think we can manage this—for both of you if we finish today.” 

The door opens again, and Trip enters. 

“This will also be great training for you, too.”

I shudder in fear.

“Please—right now?” I beg. “Sir, I am sorry—for everything—for singing, for touching Akira—for everything!”

“Oh, I can see you are, but you haven’t paid in full for your infraction yet.”

“Open up,” Trip says gruffly. He is holding something in his hand and has turned my head to the side.

I’m afraid to disobey and I open my mouth. There is something spicy that he puts in my mouth—it’s a root—maybe ginger? I don’t dislike the taste, but I don’t know what this really about. Plus the more it stays in my mouth, the spicier it gets.

“You’ll want to moisten it up as much as possible, kitten. It’ll make for easier insertion.” Trip is grinning down at me.

Insertion? What the hell? I choke on the strong flavor and as it’s shoved even further into my throat I can’t help gagging.

“You’d better not gag on your first client, kitten. It's unseemly,” Virus advises. “One for you, too, Akira.”

“N-no—please!” But Akira’s words are muffled when something is shoved into his mouth as well. “Hmmph!”

His reaction is frightening me much more than I was already. He starts to struggle—even with the ginger in his mouth.

Mine is pulled out of my mouth suddenly, and my body is yanked toward the edge of the bed.

“Now relax,” Trip growls, and he pries my butt cheeks apart. Even him touching me stings my skin—and when my saliva drips from the piece of ginger, I yelp in pain. It burns like fire, like rubbing salt or lemon juice in an open wound—and only gets hotter against my ass and thighs.

“Please, sir!” I beg desperately.

“Now, relax and it won’t be so bad. If you fight, it will burn even more,” Virus advises almost kindly.

Before I realize what is happening, the ginger has been shoved up my ass. I gasp at the painful sensation—I have been touched like this before, but it’s still so intrusive. I comply, though and relax, and that does make it easier.

“Now you wait for a while. And Akira—you’re next. Trip, I’ll need you to hold him down.”

Akira is clawing the mattress—I know he saw a guest yesterday—but he screams while the two larger cats are working him over, his legs kicking out behind him on the edge of the mattress. Why does it hurt him so much more?

“Nice work, Akira. It looks like Shiki has done our work for us.”

“Hurts! Please!” Akira wails.

A few moments have passed, and I start to notice a direct burning sensation inside my asshole. I try flexing my muscles to shift around—but flexing hurts even more. My gods! What is this?

I am barely able to lift myself up on my torso, and I turn to look at Virus.

“Wh-what is this??” I ask, desperate.

“Just relax. If you don’t relax it will make your punishment so much worse,” Virus says. “Akira, I’ll restrain you if I see your hands back here again and add five extra minutes to your time.”

A small grunt comes out of the silver cat, and he buries his face into the mattress, still panting hard. 

Now—after the first few minutes have passed, I am very uncomfortable. I too start to reach behind me and wiggle my hips, trying to dislodge the burning sensation from inside me.

My knuckles are wrapped—hard—with something wood, making me squeal with pain. I obediently lower my hands to the bed, underneath my head.

“Now, we have a choice to perform this punishment in here or publicly during breakfast.”

My ears flatten instantly. My ass is already so sore and welted—being exposed like this would be so much worse!

“Where do you think you would learn your best lesson?”

Akira doesn’t speak, but I can’t stop my mouth from begging. I can’t help seeing Akira’s ears twitch painfully every time I open my mouth, but I can’t stop myself.

“Please! If you don’t want to put me at risk—please! Sir!”

“But I think you learn so well from humiliation, Konoe,” Virus says. “Trip, get their robes and bring them to the dining room.”

I shudder—and when Trip helps me slip on my robe—even moving a little makes my asshole burn. I can stand up and the root is still inside me, shifting around uncomfortably. I feel fear like I haven’t felt before.

“Consider this a blessing, Konoe. It's great practice for the social this weekend.”

Trip grabs both our arms, and Akira is limping horribly. It burns each time I move my legs, and tears are already streaming down my face. But it’s too late. I see we are headed into the dining room, toward the front, where there is a table waiting for Trip and Virus to dine. I feel every eye look up when we are led in, and my heart trembles in fear. 

“I’m not sure you’re aware, but these two charity students were caught frolicking in the woods yesterday afternoon,” Virus announces. “Because Konoe has not yet had his debut, this infraction is particularly serious, and we are going to set a public example of them. This is what happens when you disobey at this school.”

Akira is shoved up against the table, and Trip roughly strips off his robe—leaving him naked in front of the guests. When he is bent over the table, I can see his ass is red and swollen—even inside. And he is biting his lip so as not to cry out.

“You will keep your hands on the table in front of you,” Virus says. Akira lowers his face and his claws dig in. “Konoe, watch, please. This is happening because of you. And you are next.”

I feel sick to my stomach, but I obey—horrified. Virus walks around to the other side of Akira—and pulls out a paddle. It’s a medium-sized paddle—larger than that hairbrush, but lighter. Without warning or further ado, he tears into Akira with that paddle—spanking him again and again.

Strangely—the sounds that come out of Akira are muffled at first, though I can see tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. I shift uncomfortably—the burning inside my body hurts so much! But being paddled with that inside of me? I can’t imagine! I want to throw up.

Within the first five spanks, Virus has Akira yelping and screaming in pain. I lose track after ten swats—but his ass and thighs look miserable.

“When you are told to keep your hands off the merchandise, you will do just that—regardless of whatever ‘feelings’ you think you have!” Virus orders. He yanks Akira up off the table and pushes him to his knees. 

Then—it’s my turn. I’m devastated to be punished again so publicly, but I can’t defend myself, and I am meowing quietly even as I am pushed against the table and my robe is stripped off. I hear a gasp from the students watching this production and I realize it’s probably because my ass is already welted.

“Konoe has been punished already, but this is the last portion of his punishment. I hope you will learn your lesson.” Virus leans in and whispers in my ear, “You’ll want to keep your body relaxed for this, kitten.”

The first spank of the paddle comes down on my ass—and I clench my cheeks to defend myself from it—but it burns. That ginger is burning me! I cry out loud—both in pain from the paddle against my already wounded flesh, and also because of the burning inside me.

Fat tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I am trying not to growl with pain—but I’ve never felt anything so raw before. My gods—is this what is going to be expected of me? Does sex hurt like this? Or is this all because of the ginger?

I quickly lose track of the number of spanks as well, but I learn quickly to keep my muscles relaxed, because this does indeed make the burning much less. I hear a lot of noise coming out of my mouth, however. I’m sobbing and crying and almost screaming—each time that paddle comes down.

And I happen to see Akira out of the corner of my eye. He’s kneeling on the floor, his head buried in his hands, trying to cover his ears. He flinches every time I scream. My gods—this is my fault.

Finally, the punishment is over, and I am yanked up from the table and pushed down onto my knees next to Akira. The floor feels cool against my ass—I can feel the temperature drifting up from between my knees. I want to touch Akira, tell him it’s all right, that I am sorry—but I am too afraid to move. 

Virus is going on and on about something—and my ears are red hot and blushing. He is saying, “If I ever…” so I know it’s a threat.

“All right. Let’s get these two out of here for treatment.”

Trip pulls us both up—and my red ass and thighs and tears make for the perfect spectacle. It was, actually, very good practice for the weekend social. At the moment, in fact, I’m not even embarrassed about being naked. I just want this ginger out of my ass. 

I know better than to beg, however, and both of us are led into Virus’ bathing chamber.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” we answer in unison, between tears and hitching breaths, of course.

“Good. I don’t enjoy punishing you. I’d much rather reward you for doing well. Now, we will see to your care. I can’t have you this damaged the day of the social. But you will feel the ginger treatment the next time either of you disobeys. And Akira—if you step out of line, I won’t hesitate to punish Konoe as well.”

He gulps, looking down at the floor.

Trip unceremoniously pushes me over the showering stool, knocking the wind from my body for a second. He pulls the ginger out of my ass after shoving my feet aside, and it burns on its way out. I cry a few more tears as I am pushed under the showers.

“You’ll want to rinse that out as much as possible, kitten,” he growls.

I don’t watch when he treats Akira the same way.

I’m allowed to soak in the bath after our showers, and Akira is taken away. I feel terrible. Soon, I hear Virus calling me.

“Konoe, I’d like to treat your skin now. Please get out of the bath and come see me.”

I obey as quickly as I can—limping from the spanking and my still-burning insides.

“Bend over, please, and spread your legs.” 

Virus is nodding toward a chair—he’s spanked me against this at least once before. My fur bristles slightly, but I obey.

“This may be uncomfortable,” Virus warns. Something slimy is pressed inside my hole. It does burn and sting—he’s got at least two fingers inside me, and is rubbing something around my inner walls. It feels disgusting, and I cry from the humiliation of it. 

“Ah, such sweet tears,” he murmurs. “Surely those tears will please your guest this weekend.”

Then I feel a cooling sensation against my ass and thighs. It burns just a little first, but it definitely soothes my skin this time. It’s not the usual astringent, I realize, and I relax. I can’t help myself—I sigh, even—because of how soothing it is. 

“Does that feel nice? Listen, little kitty. You could have this kind and gentle treatment alone if you would only obey the rules here. Do you understand? This is your doing. Your choice.”

“I-i’m s-so sorry, sir,” I whisper. 

“I’ll give you the rest of the day off to think about your actions. Rest and read.”

I’m still naked, and I glance up over my shoulder to meet his gaze.

“M-may I dress, sir?”

“No.” Virus is absolute and my ears droop sadly. “You have not earned that privilege today.”

“M-may I write a letter to Rai? Thanking him for the visit and the rose? Please, sir?”

“Hmm. Yes. That would be acceptable. I will read it before sending it, of course. Feel free to use my stationary as soon as you feel well enough to sit.”

“Th-thank y-you, sir,” I whisper.

“Rest well.”

Thankfully, I am left alone and I feel relief course through my body as soon as I am able to rest. I do rest—and I actually drift off to sleep from exhaustion—for a few hours. Virus has left lunch for me when I wake, and I carefully get up to eat.

I am still very sore. But after I eat, all I can think about is Rai.

Worrying about the social event, and whether sex with him will hurt—and how much—but I have got to get out of here before Virus and Trip kill me. I don’t care if it does hurt when Rai fucks me—if it means I will get out of here. 

I sit down to write a letter to him—and I think about what to say as my ass burns against the fabric of the chair. Still no clothing. I wonder if he’d like the idea that I wrote this while I was naked—and the thought of that—him imagining me naked—send a burst of desire to my lower half.

He touched me—my skin—under my shirt yesterday in that grove, and it felt nicer than anything I could ever imagine. Even if he would touch me like that once a month, I would put up with any punishment he could come up with. I’m sure of that. I would do it—for him.

But he’s a prince. And I am not.

I sigh, brushing a few tears from my eyes, and I get to writing.

Dear Rai,

Thank you for taking the time to visit me yesterday. Spending time with you was the best thing to happen to me in the past week, if not my entire life. I loved talking with you, singing for you, kissing you, and feeling your touch. If I could have things my way, I’d spend every hour of the day in your arms.

I look forward to seeing you this weekend. The thought that you will be there—as my support—encourages me more than I can express. I am afraid and nervous, of course. But the fact that you will be there is more than enough to make me excited about the event.

Thank you for the rose, too. It gives me something that I can see and feel and smell while I’m not in your presence that reminds me of you. Plus it makes me feel you are thinking about me.

Am I in your thoughts? Even if you thought about me just once this week, that would be enough for me. I know it is a bold request, but if you would think of me, I will sing for you for the rest of my life.

Forever your Sanga,

Konoe

There. I’m pleased with it, though it’s quite sappy. I’m not used to writing letters to anyone, much less love letters. I just hope Virus will send it for me.

I’m exhausted again, so I leave the letter I wrote on the desk and crawl back into bed. But even exhausted, I can’t get Rai’s face out of my mind—the feel of his silky hair brushing against the bare skin of my chest, his teeth nipping my neck and licking away any pain, his lovely fresh, wintery scent, the sound of his voice rumbling in my ears, and the feeling of his hands in my fur.

I drift off to sleep, thinking of that silver cat—and I dream about him. We are in the grove next to the river again—and he goes further this time. He unbuckles my pants and caresses my dick—gently—and I feel his hair brushing against my stomach. In my dream, he treats me with such care—pushing his thumb into my slit and stroking me. I am gasping with pleasure in my dream—and I wake up when I climax.

I realize I have dreamed everything—I wasn’t even touching myself! And I am terribly ashamed. Worse, I’m in Virus’s bed. I wobble into the bathing chamber to clean up, despite my relaxed body—I’m basking in a nice afterglow and I only want to sleep. But if I don’t clean up, I am terrified that Virus will think I have done something to myself and will punish me for it. I do as best as I can and before I realize, I’d drifted off to sleep again.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I wake alone in Virus’ bed. I’m still exhausted and sore, and it isn’t long before the headmaster makes another appearance at my side.

“Let’s treat your skin,” he says. 

I give a long stretch, and apparently, I’m not moving quickly enough.

“Come on. Delayed obedience is disobedience,” he scolds impatiently. “Get up here.”

I stop my hesitation and I climb on top of the sheets, face down. I sigh grumpily, but I smother the sound into a pillow and it is ignored, thankfully. Virus spends more time than necessary treating my skin—it’s still sore but it feels much better than it did yesterday.

“You’re still pink back here. Quite pretty,” Virus admires his work, and I feel heat climbing up into my ears and cheeks. He is taking his time, caressing me and stroking my skin and tail. My fur fluffs out defensively.

“All right. Let’s get you dressed.”

I am expected to dress in front of Virus—and I suppose I should become less embarrassed about being so exposed—especially considering the upcoming weekend's plans. It makes me feel sick.

After a light breakfast, I am scheduled for dance lessons with Aoba. He seems slightly angry or at least annoyed with me, and I’m not sure why. I want to ask and make sure I haven’t done anything to offend him. When Virus and Trip aren’t in the room watching us, I murmur to him quietly.

“Aoba, are you all right?”

“What?” He asks. 

“I mean you're being oddly quiet, and I am just afraid I did something offensive.” 

“Why would you think that? Just because my dance instructor is coming to your debut? And you’re getting all the attention?” His voice sounds snippy. I’m shocked at how angry his response is, to be honest.

“B-but I don’t want the attention! You can have it!” I protest. It’s true—all this attention really might kill me. I am quite afraid of what may be done to me between now and the weekend. If he wants this attention, he can have it!

“It’s not about that,” Aoba clarifies, pulling me across the dance floor. “It’s about the fact that you flirt with everyone you meet!” 

My ears flatten and bristle, and I stop dancing.

“I do not flirt,” I growl.

“Oh? What do you call your interaction with my dance instructor, then? And all of Akira’s attention—he’s obsessed with you! Plus you’re flirting with Noiz—he can’t stop talking about your ass! And it’s obvious you don’t even want him." 

“I’m not flirting with anyone,” I insist. 

“Well, then, you have so much to say to everyone,” Aoba continues. “And Noiz sure as hell can’t stop talking about you. Plus Akira is miserable! You should never have sung to him as you did!”

“I didn’t mean to sing to him! I was just singing because Virus told me to—that was all! I think Akira heard me because he’s a Touga,” I try to explain, but Aoba is having none of it.

“Bullshit. You’re flirting, just like you did with Koujaku.” 

I press my lips together and don’t speak for a minute. Unfortunately, this is when Virus enters the room.

“What’s going on here?” Virus asks.

“Konoe isn’t willing to dance with me,” Aoba says.  

What the hell?

“N-no, that's not—”

“Konoe, I told you to practice your dance steps. Why aren’t you doing what I asked you to do? Do you think you know better than I do?”

“Uh—n-no,” I lower my ears and my tail droops. Before I lower my face, though, I see Aoba’s expression, and he’s hiding a smirk. Did he just deliberately get me in trouble?

“Luckily, I have just the thing to fix your attitude. Get over here.”

Virus is standing next to the mirror, and I drag my body over to where he is standing. I am about to go down to my knees to beg forgiveness, but he pushes me up against the mirror, and my hands splay against it desperately. This is awful. I can see him in my reflection, and I can also see Aoba. 

“Lower your trousers and underwear,” Virus growls in my ear.

I cannot take another punishment on top of what I got yesterday.

“Please!” I beg. “I just stopped dancing for a second!” 

“If I have to make you do it, you will get twice the number of strokes, kitten.”

My fur bristles, and tears brim in my eyes. I swallow thickly and obey, unfastening my belt and lowering my pants and trousers to my knees. I hear a quiet gasp behind me—and I glance up at the reflection. It was Aoba—and he is appalled when he sees the state of my ass, I’m sure. 

“W-wait,” Aoba says. “I-it was really n-nothing. I-i, um, I stopped dancing to talk to him. This i-is m-my fault…” 

Virus glances up at Aoba.

“Really? I don’t believe you. Konoe, brace yourself against the mirror and keep your tail out of the way.” Something cool and flat is pressed up against my skin, and I shudder in fear. It’s the damned hairbrush! Shit. I swallow down my tears—or try to—but I’m sobbing before the first blows rain down against my sore, bruised skin.

I can’t keep my body still—my tail is swaying, and my knees want to buckle under the pain. It’s only three strokes in, and I’m crying out loudly with each stroke. I also can’t seem to look away from him or my own miserable expression in the mirror. It’s incredibly humiliating as well as physically painful. Is this how desperate and broken I have become?

“If you would just learn your place, I wouldn’t have to punish you so often. Is it that difficult to do as we ask?” Virus asks, between strokes. He isn’t out of breath—he doesn’t have to spank me that hard since my skin is already so distressed. I am sobbing from pain and desperation. He looks so pleased with himself that it makes goosebumps raise on my skin. 

“Virus—please—that’s enough, isn’t it?” I can hear Aoba, but I don’t raise my eyes. I’m mortified that he is seeing any of this, though I suppose it’s more preparation for the weekend’s social. “Please—this isn’t even his fault!” 

“Oh, isn’t it? Are you asking for punishment as well?” Virus stops spanking me just long enough to stare down Aoba.

“N-no,” he says, dropping his eyes to his feet. 

“Well, if this really wasn’t his fault, what do you think you should do about it?” Virus says sharply. “You got him in trouble. Don’t you feel bad?”

“Ah, um, yeah,” Aoba says. “Please—I didn’t know he was already in such bad shape.” 

My ear is grabbed harshly and pulled, my lower half still shamefully exposed. Virus stalks over to Aoba, dragging me behind him and grabs Aoba’s blue ear as well. He bristles and cries out in pain.

“Come along, then, kittens who know better than the headmaster.”

Virus really sounds pissed. He drags us into his office and closes the door. I am in so much pain that I ignore the trousers trapping my knees, and I just stumble after him to get him to release my ear.

“Face the wall, both of you.”

My fur bristles. Ugh—this is going to be even worse.

“Please,” Aoba says.

“Oh, you’ve had this coming to you for a while. I haven’t prepared you for the social even a little. You’re quite right about that,” Virus growls, digging around in the cabinet for something. He’s found it and brings it over to Aoba. “Konoe, turn around and watch, please.”

“Please,” Aoba begs softly. 

“Drop your pants.” 

Hiding his tears, Aoba unbuckles his trousers and slides them off his hips, along with his underwear. His fur bristles and his claws are drawn.

“Get over to the chair and bend over. Konoe, learn from Aoba’s experience. This is how we punish our more experienced charity cases.”

I bristle my own fur in fear when I see him spread Aoba’s cheeks and shove something inside him—it looks large in Virus’ hand and it’s making a strange vibrating sound, almost like a cat’s purr. Aoba has not been prepared, and he winces when it enters him. But what happens next is frightening. Aoba starts to act like I felt after Verg touched me. He starts purring and his legs shake, and a sensual sounding sigh escapes his lips.

“Hold this in place until I say you can move.”

“Please—I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” Virus sits down at his desk. I am watching Aoba’s face—and he looks miserable and elated at the same time. Does that feel good inside of him? His body is responding to it, that’s for sure. His eyes close halfway and his tongue is slightly exposed, and he continues making those strange, soft gasping pants. 

But it isn’t more than a few minutes when it slips out of his ass. He lowers his face to the chair and meows in apology.

“I-i c-couldn’t h-help it!” He is desperate, but Virus has already stood up from the desk. He shoves the vibrating thing back inside of Aoba and then pulls a belt from the top of the desk.

“You will learn to help it. You know what you’ve got coming. Count.”

Virus has been mean and cruel to me—and I’ve seen him be cruel to Akira—but I have never really noticed his face until now. He looks like he is enjoying this, and that he set Aoba up to fail. It’s shocking to me—I’m appalled. 

He starts strapping Aoba’s ass and thighs with the belt—and Aoba obediently counts off each stroke, his voice getting softer with each stroke. I see his knees wobbling and I want to do something to help this or stop it, but I can’t. The sound of the belt against his ass is loud and makes me wince and flatten my ears each time. Virus turns to glance at me to make sure I am watching Aoba’s punishment. In total, he gets six strokes with the belt, leaving his ass and thighs welted.

His skin is nearly as pale as mine—and I’ve never watched a punishment before today. Now I’ve seen both my own and Aoba’s, and it’s horrible. I feel embarrassment for Aoba—struggling against the chair, trying not to let his knees collapse—and then the vibrator falls out again. He lowers his face and murmurs the same pathetic apologies, and Virus belts him again, making him count, making my own skin shiver with revulsion.

What is this place?!

My body is shaking with fear and rage, as well as a vulnerable defenselessness and helplessness when I realize there is nothing I can do for Aoba. He is getting punished because of me. I hurt Akira, and now I hurt Aoba, too.

“Please!” I whisper—interrupting the third round with the belt. “Isn’t this enough? I’m sure he’s learned what you had to teach him!”

Virus glares at me, landing two more smacks against Aoba’s ass and sit spot, making him yelp.

“And you’d know this because…?”

“I-i’ve b-been w-watching,” I say, lowering my face immediately in response to his aggression.

“Do you want to spend more time in the tower, kitten?” My jaw is grabbed roughly, and I’m forced to meet those cold blue eyes. “I don’t care how many princes have their eye on you. I have taken your obedience and education on myself. Don’t fool yourself, little Sanga. I’m the best teacher and advocate you’ve got.”

I shudder down to my core, and I’m frightened. The hand holding the belt strokes my naked skin deliberately, making my punished skin prickle in pain. The leather pulls the fur at the base of my tail, making it bristle and making my body shiver.

“P-please—I d-didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what your intentions were. I only care about how you appear. No one else has that in their thoughts as much as I do. No one cares about your future as much as I do.” He strokes my chin gently, but his grip is so tight I feel like he could break my jaw with just a little more pressure. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “Now, this is a lovely look for you, kitten. Remember this feeling—keep it in mind on the night of the social.”

Aoba is left to suffer for some time, yet—and he is in no shape to dance once Virus is finished with him. He is left a quivering mess of pink welts, blue fur, and soft silky hair. His skin is blushing gently—and his butt really does look pretty with those stripes across it. I am repulsed by thinking such a thing.

But is what Virus says true? Does he really care about me and my future? He warned me the training would be vigorous. But I can’t believe it. He’s too cruel. 

I swallow those feelings down deep and wait to be excused. I watch as he applies cream to Aoba’s ass and thighs, and then barks at him to get dressed.

“Konoe, you’re next. Get over here.”

I do not hesitate or delay, moving my feet as fast as possible. I’m afraid of that belt that he held up against my skin. I drape my body over the side of the chair, and Virus applies the same cream to my skin as well.

“I don’t want this to damage you permanently. I wish you’d do a little better with obedience. You’re a disappointment to me and this school.”

Those words hurt my chest almost as much as physical punishment and a few more tears spill.

“I’ll do better. I promise, sir.” The words leak from my mouth without my consent. It’s frightening.

“You’d better, or this treatment will continue. Pull up your pants, Konoe. It’s unseemly to be exposed like this.”

“Ah, yes, sir,” I mumble.

“Both of you get to your rooms and rest.” Have I just been excused to my own room? My heart lifts, except that Virus grabs my arm. “Kitten, you’re going to my room.”

Lowering my ears and tail obediently, I do as he commands. I curl up on the bed and weep. I feel so utterly broken. Even the other charity students suffer because of me!

Chapter Text

The third prince shifts around at his desk and stands up. He has been pacing for the past few days, trying to settle to a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his chest. If he didn’t know himself better, he might describe this odd sensation as a panic attack—only without the panic. It’s more a feeling that something is not right and it makes him want to move. He can’t put his finger on exactly what the problem is, either. It’s a feeling, after all, and those can’t mean anything—but if that is true, why is he so affected?

Additionally, the young blonde kitten has been on his mind. He paid him a visit on Sunday, of course, and only has to wait two more days before he can see him again. He can’t help it, but he has caught himself fantasizing about the kitten several times over the past few days as well. Some are vague fantasies, such as wondering what his lithe form might look like completely nude; some are more specific, such as imagining exactly what he would like to do the kitten once he gets his hands on him—exactly how he would make him come undone, shivering beneath his fingers, that breathless voice huffing with pleasure. Really, it’s an uncommon occurrence for Rai to have such fantasies at all. He'd always thought he'd had a low libido. As his trainer told him, he preferred a good fight to a good fuck.

At first, the fantasies were easily written off due to the impending mating season, and symptoms for Rai are setting in early. But as they became more consistent and distracting, even as far as showing up in his dreams, Rai can’t deny that he is fascinated by the young Sanga.

A Sanga, of all things. How lucky could this be?

There is no question as to whose Sanga he will be, in his mind—and a slight jealous feeling is aroused when Rai imagines the kitten singing for an entire audience. That voice is meant only for his ears. And what if the kitten has sung for someone else? That thought is quickly pushed aside. Jealousy is neither a pleasant nor productive feeling. 

He has heard from Nano, the king and his oldest brother, who has agreed to attend the event, albeit reluctantly. It took persuasion from both his brothers to convince him to leave the castle. But a short sojourn will do him some good. 

Koujaku has not stopped by again. Rai worries about his second brother because it’s obvious to him that he is still in love with his blue-haired dancer. Rai does not have the experience Koujaku has in relationships. However, he finds it hard to believe that anyone—especially a charity student in that dancer’s position—would be able to turn down an honest offer from a prince. Perhaps that is Koujaku’s concern—that his dancer would agree to go with him because he believes he has no choice.

If it were me, I wouldn’t care. That little Sanga is coming home with me sooner or later, whether he wants to or not.

Still, this uneasiness comes over him in waves and unpredictably—and it does not subside. Part of him wonders if it might be related to the kitten, and he considers this for a few moments. Before his Sunday visit, he hadn’t experienced any symptoms like this at all. Ever. Perhaps it is a result of the Sanga's song. Even when he remembers the song, it echoes in his ears and heart—that tender desperation and call for help. Maybe it would be a good idea to make up an excuse to visit the kitten before the social, just to make sure he is all right.

It would be a lie to say that Rai didn’t take special care in his appearance before he left his house today. He double-checks that his suit is fitting as it should and he takes a few extra moments to run a brush through his hair before grabbing his weapons and heading to the stables. 

Konoe:

I’m spending time reading the newspaper in Virus’ room, realizing vaguely that I’ve no longer been permitted to attend history class. I wonder if it was a one-time thing or if I am being segregated from the other students. The only time I see anyone else is during dance lessons and those are performed either with Aoba or with the dance instructor in class. 

Koujaku dances with me each time, teaching me new steps. He seems oddly preoccupied with my state of health, which I find somewhat unnerving. I wonder how much he knows about the punishment process here—but I heard Akira say that he thought I was being handled much more roughly than either he or Aoba. So I don’t say anything specific to him. However, occasionally, I do feel a hand brush my ass or thighs—in a sort of casual way, it feels like to me, rather than in a way that indicates interest. I couldn't help flinching, though I haven’t been punished since the day before yesterday—at least not severely, with the hairbrush, at least. I have been made to do some degrading things, including spending most of the day without a stitch of clothing on (fortunately, Virus didn’t allow me out of his chambers that day). 

In some ways, I realize it’s better for me to be as far as possible from the other students—especially Akira and Aoba—since my presence causes trouble for them. It is better to be alone than to make them suffer. I sigh quietly to myself, wondering when the last time I saw Tokino’s cheery smile was, and I hope he is doing all right.

My mind floats back to my last dance lesson again. I couldn’t help flinching when Koujaku touched me—and he looked at me with confusion first, then sadness in his eyes. I hate to be pitied. He also asked me several times if I was being well-treated, and of course, I said yes. I couldn’t say anything else—though I hesitated to lie. Also—Aoba doesn’t watch me nearly as closely when Koujaku dances with me, so I wonder if he has given up on the instructor himself. I know Aoba loves him—his jealousy is what got me in trouble and made me suffer the last severe hairbrush spanking. I wonder if he didn’t know how severely I had been punished the day before. Was he not in the dining room when Akira and I were both punished? Perhaps he thought that was normal. At any rate, I’m glad he’s civil with me when he practices the steps I’ve learned.

Right now it's after lunch, I have been not permitted to dress for the day, so I am lounging naked and face down, my body draped over the chaise lounge and kicking my feet in the air, with the paper spread on the floor. Virus would call my posture unseemly, but it's comfortable and it's good for my skin to be in contact with the air. Plus, I'm alone, so no one can see me. The paper gets ink on my fingers and it has a strange, almost nostalgic smell to it. Virus hates inky fingers, so I am careful to groom them properly when he comes in. I wonder how that cat manages to read the paper every day and not get ink on his hands.

Today is Thursday, and Saturday’s social event is advertised in the paper. It’s a vague-sounding advertisement. It shows a photo of the school, which looks quite nice, and says, “Open House at Applebaum’s Finishing School: Join us for the evening and get to know our talented students.” It lists the date, June 1, and the time, starting at 4 PM. I do wonder how many people will be in attendance and whether I will be able to make it through the day without offending the headmaster.

And Trip—he’s been horrible. He keeps walking in on me and petting me, stroking my body and smelling me, licking my ears when I don’t see him there—generally frightening me. It’s almost as if he is jealous of Virus’ attention. Or perhaps he wishes I would stay in his room. The thought terrifies me.

While my thoughts are running wild and free—and I should be studying current events—I hear hoofbeats in the courtyard. I really want to stand up and see who is visiting, but I am naked and would hate to be exposed at the window. The open air is quite nice on my bruised skin. I still have marks from the hairbrush Sunday night—and all night long—several sharp welts and bruises, in addition to the paddle. But I have done well not to disobey so much to warrant anything more than a rap to my knuckles or a single spank on the butt. Virus is careful to treat my skin twice each day, and this morning, I noticed he too was smelling me in a rather intense way. 

I do feel warm today, so maybe my sweat is making my scent stronger—but the air is nice outside and it’s late May. Perhaps the fever and aches I woke up with is a result of allergies. I’ve noticed a slight itchy feeling in my body, most likely unrelated to the malaise I’ve been feeling. This feeling tends to make my dreams rather fantastic—and I’ve dreamed of Rai several times—even once ejaculating in the night while I was in bed with Virus. He noticed, of course, and commented smugly that I must soon be in season, much to my complete mortification.

Someone is paying a visit, however—and a piece of my heart lifts for just a second. Perhaps it’s Prince Rai, come to save me from the weekend’s public torture and the execution of my virginity. Although with what has been done to me since I have been here, I feel far from virginal.

In an instant, I quash those thoughts. I know it can’t be Rai, because he will be seeing me in two days. And also, if it isn’t him, I won’t be able to handle the disappointment. I let my head hang off the edge of the chaise, brushing the soles of my feet together. My ass and thighs are still a little sticky from their treatment, and I will be punished if I get any salve on the furniture. I let my arms dangle off the edge and push the newspaper around a little while.

But suddenly, the door opens. I look up and see Trip.

“You’re not exactly dressed to receive visitors,” he comments, checking out my ass and legs more than thoroughly. I can feel his eyes crawling all over me, and it frightens (and revolts) me.

“No, sir. I was not permitted clothing today,” I reply quietly, looking up from my paper.

“Get up. Get your uniform on, now. And here—take this.”

Again? Another pill? I take it and the water he presses into my hands, swallowing the pill and then letting him press around in my mouth. Each time he gives me medication, his fingers spend more time feeling around inside my mouth, pulling on my tongue. 

“Your mouth is so soft and warm,” he mutters in my ear, helping me off the chaise. “I wonder if that is what you will feel like—inside—as well. I can’t wait to sample you myself.” He brushes my ass to let me know what he means. 

My ears bristle to his unpleasant words, and he sits down on the sofa to watch me dress. My clothes are in the wardrobe, but I have to fetch them and dress in front of him. I do this every day—either before him or Virus or both—and every night when I undress as well. I can’t seem to get used to it.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

To my dismay, I am brought to a room very much like the one in which I received Arbitro. I shiver when I enter this room, and I look up at Trip, hoping this is a mistake. This room is covered in sumptuous cream-colored silk bedding on its canopy bed, and the velvet curtains block out a lot of the light. He opens the curtains, revealing bars on the window, and checks the stock of the bar.

“Wait here. Be polite and obedient. This guest is very important and you are not to resist him or disappoint him.” Trip walks to the door.

“Um, what if he, um, wants me to do something I know Virus doesn’t want me to do?”

“You heard me. Obey or be punished.”

Trip leaves and I hear another two pairs of footsteps approaching. I also hear Virus talking in a fast, urgent tone.

“This is a highly unusual request, sir. I’m sure not even your brother asked for this sort of privilege.”

A low voice I am thrilled to hear sinks into my ears and straight to my hips. It’s Rai. It was him!

“Koujaku didn’t bring you the king of Sisa to this little social event, either, nor the extra bonus I dropped off today,” he growls impatiently. “You will have more press as you can handle. This is the least courtesy you could extend to me.”

“Of course, sir. It’s not my intention to decline. We are indeed grateful for your interest, but I have to ask you to please not spoil the merchandise before the social.”

“I don’t intend to spoil anything,” Rai stops walking and snaps at Virus in a commanding tone. “My intention is to assure his well-being. If I am going to take an interest in a student of your institution, I’d better be sure I’m getting what I pay for.”

“O-of c-course, Your Grace,” Virus stammers—and I have never heard him stammer before. “Oh, I mean, sir. Sorry, sir.”

The steps approach the door and I am feeling nervous. Do I stand up at least? Get down on my knees? I’m not sure of the etiquette. I’ve always stood and shook hands with him in the past—or allowed him to kiss my hand—so groveling on the floor probably isn’t a good idea. It doesn’t feel natural.

“Right through here, sir. He has lessons to finish—” And again Virus is interrupted by a deep but quiet growl and stops short. “I mean, please enjoy yourself. I’m at your disposal, sir.” 

The room door opens rather roughly and I scramble to my feet nervously.

I can’t help the ridiculous smile on my face in greeting—nor the blush rising to my ears as soon as I recall my latest fantasy of him. He takes my breath away—and while I know I should lower my face, I don’t lower my eyes. I have to drink him all in—because this is what will get me through the next two days.

“Kitten,” his voice purrs—like honey dripping into my ears. Has his voice always sounded so sultry? I can’t remember. But it makes my knees weak. And when he enters the room and closes the door firmly behind him, leaving Virus safely on the other side, my nose is flooded with his scent—pine, clean, fresh snow, and something else like sandalwood. He smells so good—and why can I smell him from here? It’s odd. “So good to see you again.”

Long strides step over to me and he grasps my hand. He bows to me, looking up at my face while kissing my hand—and today, he kisses the tips of each of my fingers, too—making me shiver and a heavy sensation fill my stomach. That such a simple touch would have such a devastating effect blows my mind. When he is this close to me, my vision shakes a little.

“Are you unwell? Please, sit with me.” Rai urges me to sit next to him on the couch. Being so close to him makes my vision fade and shake again. A soft touch to my burning ears and soft rubs between them makes a loud purr spill from my mouth.

“I see. I wondered if you might also be suffering from symptoms. Mine have come early, kitten.”

“Symptoms of what?” I manage. 

“The mating season, of course. I have been thinking of you constantly this week, and I couldn’t wait till the event to see you. And also,” he takes both my hands in his. He feels so strong and powerful—and just so safe, “I wanted to be sure you were being treated well.”

“B-but didn’t you tell Virus you wanted to ensure what you were paying for?” I ask, my ears lowered. I’m nervous he will want to inspect me, the same way Arbitro did. The prospect frightens me, but I have decided I will allow it. I will allow him to touch me anyway he wants if it means he might take me out of here. 

“I did—in order to let me in to see you,” he answers, continuing to stroke my ears. “But what we actually do in here is no one’s business.”

So what does he want? Does he want me to take off my clothes? Really, that doesn’t sound so bad, at least not today.

“How do you want me?” I whisper, unable to keep the heat from my voice.

Rai’s ears perk up on the top of his head, and he looks at me closely.

“They are, um, auctioning off your virginity this weekend, aren’t they?”

I’m not quite sure how to answer that. I mean, yes, that is the intention. But am I technically still a virgin?

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, and his eyes narrow.

“Has something happened since Sunday?” 

“Well, a lot of things have happened…” 

“Anything, er, violent? Or sexual?”

My fur fluffs out defensively, betraying my calm face. I have to look away.  

“I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say.”

“Well, maybe don’t speak at all, then. Can you show me?”

“Show you… what?” My body is really heating up—is he wanting to look at me in that way, then? Does he want to see my body? The prospect is oddly enticing. I can hardly refuse when he smells so nice.

“If you have been punished, I want to see what they have done to you. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Punished?” I ask. “H-how d-did you know?” Am I limping or something? I haven’t really even walked anywhere, at least not within his view.

“Show me.”

“I-i’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I murmur. I am worried that Virus will punish me if I allow him to do something to me that will compromise my virginity. But I was also told to obey. I don't know how to behave!

“Are you refusing me?” And his tone implies that I am, indeed, disobeying him. Trip told me to obey him, and he could get me in big trouble if I don’t. But my skin is in pretty bad shape.

“I, um, I don’t want to, um, upset you.” I look away, and my chin is nudged.

“Shall I check myself?” His other hand moves toward my cravat and pulls it off my neck.

“Um—I really don’t think—” I am trying to refuse, but my hands won’t even let me stop him. 

“Hush. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“N-no—and I believe you! B-but…”

“But what?” His voice is so nice and silky—and I want him to touch me so much. I wish he would kiss me again.

“B-but V-virus will p-punish me.”

“Has he already?”

“Um, I shouldn’t say.”

“If you don’t want to show me, I won’t force you. But I need to know. On Sunday, after I left, were you punished?”

“Um, yes.” I can’t look at him.

“For what infraction? You were perfect—and I let Virus know how I felt.” He sounds slightly irritated, but I am not looking at his face. It's hard to read his feelings from his voice alone.

“It didn’t have to do with you. Akira—another charity student—was angry with me.”

“Was it the small, fit silver-haired cat? With that… um, interesting skill?”

How does he even know about that? He hasn’t seen it himself, has he? Maybe Koujaku told him?

“Um, yes. That is Akira,” I look at him sideways for a moment before continuing. He is demanding that I continue.

“Tell me what happened. Why was Akira upset?”

“Because he heard me singing to you.”

“What? You weren’t singing loud enough for it to carry to the school. Was he spying on us?”

“No! Of course not. It’s just—well, I sang to him once. And once I sing to a Touga—”

“Akira is a Touga?” Rai interrupts.

“He was trained as one, yes. I guess once I sing to a Touga, my voice, um, echoes in his heart. I don’t know how long that will last, but Akira was upset with me for singing to you. He thought I should want to be with him. He thinks, um…”

“What does he think?”

“He says you have a reputation for violence, and he is afraid of you.”

Rai doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he presses his lips together. I notice he does not deny his reputation, and that is obvious.

“And if I did have such a reputation?”

“I don’t believe it,” I say—but part of me is slightly afraid.

“It’s why I was surprised to hear you wanted me to train you. You don’t know anything about me, do you?”

“I, um, only know that you have been kind to me—ever since you first met me. You treated me with kindness and tenderness a violent person would never have. It… affected me.”

“I see.”

“Did I misinterpret your intentions toward me?” I ask, almost desperate now. “Even if you are… as I have heard, um, violent, I know you would be fair. Much fairer than… um.. well…”

“Fairer than what?” He asks. I have to answer. I do not have a choice to decline that question.

“M-much fairer than the headmaster has been.”

“He has been unfair to you?”

“I think so. He said my, um, training would be rigorous, so I expected to work hard. But I didn’t expect to be treated like this.”

“He has been cruel?”

“Um, well, he would deny it. He calls it training.”

“You have not told me what instigated that punishment Sunday. I could feel something was wrong on my way home, but I wrote it off as needless anxiety. I never thought I would be able to hear you—even from my home. You were treated cruelly?” 

“Well, Akira dragged me off to the forest after you left, angry with me, insisting that I pay him attention and decline your advances. He knows of a patch of, well, catnip in the forest and brought me there. He… proceeded to kiss me and touch me in ways that the headmaster found inappropriate. I also, um, sang for him.” I feel incredibly guilty when I see Rai’s expression. He looks hurt.

“Did he fuck you?” 

“N-not, um, penetratively?” I say, my voice quiet and tentative. “B-but I could not resist! Between my exhaustion, the pills they have been feeding me, and the direct effect of the catnip, I couldn’t resist!”

“What pills?”

“Trip makes me take a pill before I see you.”

“An aphrodisiac?”

“I think so.”

“Does it work?”

That’s a weird question—and again, I’m not sure how I should answer. Why is he asking that now?

“I can’t really tell,” I admit.

Rai lifts his eyebrows questioningly.

“I feel the same whenever I see you—even that first time we met. And I hadn't been given a pill then.”

“I see. So what happened after the small silver kitten molested you?” 

“Virus was very angry. He punished me.” I don’t know how much detail he wants, so I stop there.

“How did he punish you, exactly?” A growl laces the large cat’s voice. 

“Um, he beat me with a hairbrush—every half hour, and then every hour, and then every two, throughout the night until dawn.”

“Despite the fact that you were drugged? That the other kitten started it?” He sounds appalled.

“Akira can feel my pain,” I say quietly. I fight tears in my eyes. “And he was punished as well, given to his least favorite customer—our fencing instructor—for the night.”

“And you were punished all night?”

“And in the morning, only, um, publicly. Virus, um, used ginger.”

“Ginger?”

“Um, he had Trip, um, kind of insert it before my last beating, which was performed on both of us in front of the entire student body at breakfast.” I really do not want to meet Rai’s eyes now. And he is quiet—deathly quiet. I feel a silent rage building in him. I am sure I am spoiled for him now. I am almost afraid to ask, but I do just the same. “I am not, as such, completely untouched. Does this, um, spoil me for you?”

Rai takes a deep breath, and it seems to have a strange effect on me. It feels like he is exchanging the air in the room with his own breath—which smells sweet and tempting. I’m starting to sweat, and I think I also have increased my scent. But I’m so utterly ashamed that I can’t look at his face. Instead, I stare down at the hands in my lap, trying not to fidget, since that is unseemly.

“It does not. But it breaks my heart. Your treatment—I knew something was wrong and I could not tell what it was. I could feel your pain, too.”

“Do you live close by?”

“No. I live outside Ransen.”

My ears perk up, and I jerk up my face in surprise. But I cast my eyes down immediately after meeting his eye.

“You’ve been mistreated since that morning, too, haven’t you?”

“I have had the hairbrush since then, yes. But I have been doing better the past few days—deserving only mild punishment or humiliation.”

I feel that soft touch on my chin again, and Rai lifts up my face. I am still too ashamed to meet his gaze, but he brushes my chin with his fingers.

“Don’t sing for the kitten again. Sing only for me.”

The words surprise me. He isn’t going to give up on me? I bravely meet his gaze now.

“I didn’t mean to sing for him originally. I was just ordered to sing, and I think because he was the only Touga in the room at the time, he heard my song differently than others.” 

“It's all right. I believe you. From now on, I don’t want you to sing for another soul except me. Can you do that?”

“I only want to sing for you,” I insist, the back of my throat heating up and my eyes burning. “Will you train me? I will submit to any treatment you think I warrant, and I will make up for my mistake.” 

Rai sighs softly, brushing my cheek. He closes his eye briefly before he continues.

“You have not made any mistakes. Konoe, you are a Sanga. You are not to be fenced in and forced into submission. This goes against your nature. Even if Virus has never trained as a Touga, he can feel this resistance from you, even when you hide it. If you come with me, yes, I will train you. But I can’t get you out of here before the weekend.”

My heart sinks slightly and tears spill down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry. I will take you with me on Saturday. Can you wait two more days?”

“I will do whatever you ask. I will give you my life.”

“Kitten, I do not ask for your life. I ask only for your patience.”

Suddenly, I’m nervous about what I have told Rai about my treatment here. Will he rebuke Virus and Trip? And will I suffer as a result?

“M-may I ask a favor?”

Rai nods.

“P-please, say n-nothing to Virus about what I have told you.”

“You don’t wish for better treatment?” Rai seems surprised.

“No, I do—but I think if you reprimand them, they will take it out on me and lock me in the tower. I, um, don’t wish to go through that again.”

“The tower? The one right here?” Rai motions with his chin. 

“I was, um, trained there—on what might be expected of me on Saturday.”

Rai’s fur bristles slightly, and his pupil dilates.

“They violated you as well? Forcefully?”

“Yes. I did not please either of them. I-i am afraid I m-may not please you, either, sir.”

“Did you not hear my words on Sunday?” Rai asks, his voice slightly sharper. “When I told you there is nothing you could be made to do that would make me hold you in any less regard, I meant it. There is nothing you could do to make me think less of you.”

“I am sure I could manage to displease you, sir,” I say, dropping my gaze.

“Argumentative as always, I see,” Rai says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I apologize,” I say immediately.

“It isn’t necessary. That's a good sign. I like this spirit of yours. You will need to hide it for two more days. And I will take you with me.”

How can he make me a promise like that, I wonder? Is he planning something? 

“You look as though you doubt me,” he purrs softly—into my ear, making my fur ruffle. 

“O-of c-course not,” I whisper.

“You ought to listen to what you have heard about me and my profession before you doubt me. I may ask you to sing for me on Saturday.”

“I would love to.”

“In the capacity for battle. Can you do that, kitten? Support me should I require it?”

“I will do my best.”

“I know you will.” Rai moves in a bit closer and kisses my lips. A strange numbing heat rushes through my body when our lips touch—and I relax and lean into it, reaching out my hands to his shoulders, brushing his hair lightly. My heart leaps in my chest and it’s beating hard in my throat. I want to go with him now—and more, I want him to stay with me. “Will you stay with me?”

Rai sighs.

“I was told not to damage the merchandise,” he says, his tone slightly flippant. Then, he scoops me up and moves me to the bed. My heart is racing and I’m unsure of what to do. I kiss him again and feel him untucking my shirt from my pants and reaching for my belt. “But you seem to be slightly desperate.”

“I am, sir.” I haven’t been allowed release—and have been finding it in my dreams. Those dreams about him. “I will do anything you like.”

“I’d like to wait till you are in the peak of your heat for that, kitten.”

My ears droop sadly, and Rai chuckles.

“Don’t make that face! That doesn’t mean I will leave you in this state.” 

A shiver rushes through me, bristling my fur, and fresh beads of sweat pop up on my skin. 

“I, um, I don’t know what to do!” I hiss softly when his hands glide over my abdomen and up my chest beneath my clothes. 

“Just relax.”

“Huh?” A slightly confused sound slips from my lips.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just relax.” His hands move to my belt—and I shiver in delight and anxiety. My breath catches when my pants are unbuttoned and unzipped, and the silver cat settles between my legs. His hands sneak underneath my hips—one cupping my cheeks over my trousers—which are still very tender—and the other grasping at the base of my tail.

I keen in delight when he lowers his mouth to my underwear and huffs hot breath against my nearly painfully erect cock. I want… him. But I am not sure what it is I want. Surely—he will not do to me what Virus forced me to him? He's a prince, for gods' sake. But that thought—and his lips pressing against me and holding me securely—make a longing, keening meow slip from my lips.

“Please…” I beg softly, tears at the corners of my eyes. 

He pulls the waistband of my underwear down with his teeth, freeing my cock from the restraints of clothing. My ears burn with heat—and I want to cringe—but it feels so good I can’t help myself. My knees bend and I pull up my legs on either side of his body, hugging him close. Should I close my eyes? But I can’t—he looks so gorgeous and yet so incongruous with his eye meeting my gaze so boldly and his tongue lapping at my cock. My body jerks excessively at the touch.

“Just relax. I won’t hurt you, kitten. Hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind.”

I twitch just the same when he squeezes my ass with his hand, and I am purring obscenely loud. I watch as he swallows my cock whole—sucking me, lapping with his tongue indulgently. I am sighing and moaning, and the sounds coming from my mouth and his—those wet, soft sounds—are so embarrassing yet so arousing! I can hardly stand it.

My chest aches, my heart beating painfully. Before I realize what is happening, a soft sound reverberates through my skin and through my flesh—and a submissive song floods the room. It’s as if he has pulled the song from me—like he did Sunday—and this song is different than the helpless one I sang then. It is vulnerable and at his mercy but laced with desire and want.

Again—I feel exposed—even more exposed than I do with my pants down and my dick in his mouth, and I try to squeeze my legs together defensively. I can tell my emotions are laid bare before him, and his ears twitch—his tail bristles and sways back and forth wantonly. I want him. And I want him to have me.

It’s only a few minutes before I feel my desire building to more than I can control and I start to panic—trying to push him away so I won’t come in his mouth. But he holds me in place with his hands—one controlling my tail and the other pushing my hips into the bed—and I feel like he is actually pulling a climax from my body, just like he pulled that song from me.

When I come, I gasp and moan—and that small helpless meow is laced throughout the sounds I make. My vision flashes white and my mind goes blank—and I am left with an incredible feeling of pleasure flooding my body, into the tips of my ears and the tip of my tail, followed by a delightful relaxation and relief such as I have never felt. 

I shudder and shiver when he licks my cock after I have come—but paralyzing weakness floods my body and I cannot move. Even if I want to touch him, I cannot move. 

“Hmm. Do you always get so relaxed after you sing?”

“Um, I’m not sure this is only the result of my song,” I protest softly.

“But you are paralyzed—your limbs are heavy. You can’t be comfortable like this.” Rai lifts up my leg and it doesn’t move. He moves from his position and pulls my body so it is flat on the bed, and then climbs up to kiss my lips. “You are incredibly precious. And that is the song I would want to hear from you on Saturday.”

“I can’t move anymore—I can’t, um, meet your needs,” I say softly, embarrassed and flushing. My pants are pulled up and zipped, and my belt is buckled. He leaves my shirt untucked.  

“You did meet my needs—today. Saturday I might expect more from you. Would you be willing to give it?”

“I will do anything you like,” I purr softly. I want to touch his ears and his tail—and I want to feel his body against me. I need… something. “Please—don’t go. I need…”

He looks at me carefully, his eye resting on my very pink ears.

“You need grooming,” he says suddenly and leans down to lick my ears. His tongue is rough and the touch makes me shiver, but I can’t escape that tender touch. “Don’t sing for another soul. Save your song only for me.”

I drift off to sleep while he grooms me—even despite the shivering. It feels so nice and tender. I feel desired and fulfilled—and slightly frightened of what is to come on Saturday. But whatever it is, I will comply—if it’s this silver cat. I would do anything for him. 

After the blonde falls asleep, the prince continues grooming his ears and face. He is a precious asset—a precious partner—and the feeling is strange and new to the hunter who has worked alone for so many years. But that song—he can’t ignore the song. It sinks into his ears and echoes in his heart—and finally, that anxiety he’s been experiencing for the past five days settles.

Whatever it takes, this kitten is his. But for now, he has to leave him here—defenseless and vulnerable. He is most unhappy about this situation. 

Rai climbs up from the bed and fixes his clothes before leaving the kitten behind. He moves him onto his side, watching as that bewitching tail automatically curves around his body. His ears twitch and he purrs in his sleep. His body is so helpless.

But the silver cat can't wait till Saturday. For now, this is all he will do.

When he opens the door to the bedroom, he’s surprised to find the small, silver-haired cat waiting in the hallway—the same cat who had been giving him dirty looks on Sunday. He looks extremely displeased and meets Rai’s eye with shocking ferocity. Gorgeous aqua-colored eyes—messy silver hair and fur, just asking to be groomed and stroked—the prince is taken aback when he sees the ferocious look on his face. 

Perfect for my brother. He couldn't be anymore Nano's type. He won’t be able to resist. Perhaps it will be enough for him to help me and get this silver kitten out of here as well.

“Were you waiting for me?” Rai asks. “I’m Rai. You must be Akira.”

A hiss escapes the smaller cat’s mouth, and he bares his fangs. He isn’t armed, but he looks like he is ready to fight, his shapely form strung like taut like a bow.

“What did you do to him? He is special. You’d better not have hurt him!”

“Did it sound like I was hurting him to you?” Rai asks sharply, and the smaller cat flinches for just a second. He flinches as though he expects to be handled roughly or with violence, and that would be heartbreaking—if Rai weren’t about to leave his own precious kitten behind in this place. What exactly do the headmaster and his oaf of a lackey do to these kittens to make them behave like this? 

“N-no.”

“Shut up, relax, and listen to me. You need to keep away from my Sanga and watch him from a distance. Make sure he is safe. But your presence will not be helpful to him.”

“Your Sanga?” Akira growls. “Who made him yours?”

“Didn’t you hear his song just now? I assume you couldn't help listening.”

The small cat’s ears droop slightly and his posture slumps a little.

“You won’t flinch from me—nor from my brother when I introduce you on Saturday. He will purchase your services.”

Akira meets his gaze.

“Your brother?”

“Yes. He will be here on Saturday and you are just his type. He will enjoy your… talent. You should be sure to put it to good use with him.”

“How do you know about my talent?” Akira asks, confused.

Rai rolls his eyes.

“Just do it.”

“But Aoba—”

“My other brother,” Rai clarifies. “Not Koujaku. Although he will be in attendance as well.”

Akira shuts his mouth—realizing now to whom the prince is referring. He has a look of disbelief on his face.

“Not being sold off to that fencing instructor should please you, I’d think.”

Akira bristles at the remark and then lowers his ears.

“How do you even know about that?” He asks quietly.

“That doesn’t matter. Am I correct in my judgment?”

“I don’t know your brother but he’s got to be better than Shiki.”

Rai’s ears twitch at the name. Shiki—it can’t be the same Touga he met back then. He has a teaching position—here? He is the one exposed to all these kittens? What the hell is the headmaster thinking?

“Is the Sanga taking the fencing class?”

“Of course not,” Akira says. 

“Make sure he does not come across Shiki.”

“I would never!” Akira replies, offended. And then he looks more closely at Rai. “What are your intentions toward the kitten? After his debut, he will be open season here.”

“That won’t happen,” Rai says, “as he will be training with me.”

“Is this what he wants? You’re not known for your kindness.”

“I’m not. But he is… different. Special.” Rai watches Akira’s expression when he says those words, and they seem to satisfy him. “Get out of here before someone catches you. Surely you have some other place to be.”

Akira obeys—almost despite himself—and then throws a disrespectful and non-submissive glance over his shoulder, as if to say, “I’m going, but not because you told me to. I’m going to protect the kitten in that room.”

Rai wanders toward the lobby, settling his fur which he hadn’t realized he’d bristled. He knocks on Virus’ office and opens it without waiting.

“Ah,” Virus says, standing up from behind the desk. “Did the kitten meet your expectations?”

“Your office is adjacent to the room I was just in. You should know the answer to that question.”

“And you left him… undamaged?”

Rai tilts his head slightly. 

“What did it sound like to you? And are you sure you’re the one who should be asking me that?”

Virus bristles his fur defensively. This is a cat who rarely responds to threats and Rai wasn’t actually threatening him. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean no more or no less than what I said.”

“What we do here, Your Highness,” Virus sneers, “is considered training. It’s a tried and true method. If you don’t like it, feel free to find your amusement elsewhere.”

“Ah, but do you really mean that?” Rai asks, keeping his voice smooth and neutral. “Do you really wish for me to take my brothers and the press who accompanies them elsewhere?”

“We do what works. And that kitten is not a submissive one.”

“He shouldn’t be. As a Sanga, it is not his role to be submissive. If you continue treating him the way you have been, your so-called discipline will backfire and he will stop singing. If you break his spirit, he will not be able to sing.”

“That may very well be,” Virus returns. “However, we have certain standards in place for a reason, and no student is an exception to our rules. He must learn to obey.”

“I will be making an offer you cannot refuse on Saturday,” Rai continues. “I highly suggest you consider the fact that this student is not a good fit here.”

“Oh, but he is! He has generated interest already—even among demons!”

Rai bristles slightly when he hears this. 

“You do know what I do for a profession, don’t you?”

“Of course. We’re glad to have you. I hope your profession won't interfere with the auction.”

“I hope it doesn't. My reputation isn’t unearned.”

“And neither is our school’s. You won’t be disappointed.”

Rai turns to leave and looks over his shoulder at Virus one last time.

“I have given the kitten specific instructions not to sing for anyone but me until he sees me again. If you have commanded him to obey me, please keep this in mind. I will find out if my instructions are not obeyed, and I will hold you responsible, as the headmaster here.”

Virus swallows thickly.

"I can hear him when I'm not present as well." 

"Like at your home?" Virus looks shocked and nervous.

"Yes. He doesn't have to be singing for me to hear his voice."

“My gods. Of course.” 

Rai nods and walks out of the door.

“No need to see me out. I know my way.”

“Thank you for your patronage,” Virus says. Once he no longer hears Rai’s footsteps echoing in the hallway, he looks at the bag on his desk. He opens it and finds a pile of gold coins—Setsuran gold—the most valuable currency in Sisa. He had been given this and promised more, which is why he let the prince see the kitten. After that thinly veiled threat, Virus figures he’d better make sure he treats the little Sanga fairly the next two days. He hopes it doesn’t wreak havoc on his training, however.

Chapter Text

After Rai has left, Trip wakes me from my pleasant nap in the guest room and brings me into Virus' room. The guest room smelled so much nicer, I think.

Virus seems oddly concerned with the state of my body, and with Trip in the room as well, I am questioned rather closely about what happened with Rai. I’m not sure if what he did to me was allowed—although certainly I have been handled much worse by these two, and more invasively by Akira. I still hesitate to answer directly, and I can tell I’m raising both of their ire.

“Did he examine you?” 

“Um, not really.”

“Did he touch you? Did he take off your clothes?”

“Some of them, sir.”

“You know what I’m asking. Did he fuck you?”

“You do look much more relaxed than you were before, kitten,” Trip adds. 

“Wouldn’t I be agitated and sore if he fucked me? Sir?” I ask.

Virus and Trip both jerk their chins when I ask this question. 

“What kind of upbringing have you had, exactly?” Virus asks.

“Could it be he’s the greenest kitten in the history of Applebaum's?” Trip mutters.

I don’t understand what any of this has to do with my upbringing! Although something Rai told me on Sunday makes me think twice. Didn’t he say the school waits till the mating season to host these social events? And he said it was to make things less painful. I still don’t quite understand what he meant. But Akira said something about how much it hurts when you’re not in season—and if I understand that it works the way I think it does, I don’t understand how it could hurt less during a particular time of year.

I feel so naive and out of the loop. If I am really being trained to please others with my body, shouldn’t I at least be taught something about the act itself? I mean, how am I ever going to please anyone?! I feel a little guilty for what Rai did to me—mostly because I was so exhausted and I couldn’t reciprocate. Isn’t it my purpose to please him? If it is, I can’t see how what he did could have made him happy...

Then my mind wanders backward, combing through the strange, disjointed memories from the first time I spent the day in the tower. When Trip choked me—I was turned on. I was actually excited by that. And I hate Trip! So maybe… if it were with someone I liked, it might be fun? Maybe Rai wanted to make me feel like that for a reason? Maybe he did enjoy himself— he said he was pleased, after all, even when I was too exhausted to do anything for him.

Am I being set up for a complete failure this weekend? Is the idea to have me know just enough, be aware of just enough, so I will be aware when I fail to please whichever guest wins my auction? A chill shudders down my spine, and I feel rage in my gut.

“He didn’t do anything worse than what has already been done to me!” I burst. 

“Ah—he finally collected on that debt—for the flowers? Just like I warned you he would?” Virus asks. When I still don’t reply—except for lowering my eyes—he clarifies, “He made you take him in his mouth?”

“Actually, no,” I state firmly. “Sir. He pleasured me that way.”

That shuts both of them up for a moment—but only a moment. Virus then continues, “Did you complain about your treatment here?”

“No, sir. I didn’t.”

“Did he see your injuries?”

“He asked me to show him—” and then I stop talking. I shouldn’t have said this. Because now, Virus is going to know I refused his request after specifically being told to obey.

“And?” Virus insists, glaring down at me. “I mean, if he served you, your clothes would have had to come off. So? You stripped for him as he requested, didn’t you?”

“You obeyed him like I told you to, didn’t you?” Trip asks.

“I-i declined,” I hesitate to admit and then add quickly, “b-but I thought y-you’d b-be d-displeased if I complied!”

“Wait a moment,” Trip says. “He asked you to strip and you refused?”

“It w-wasn't exactly a refusal…”

“Well, did he see you or not?!” Virus asks, his voice much sharper than I want to hear.

“I-i d-didn’t want to upset him! I-it seems he already knew! I, um, think he c-can hear me.”

“What do you mean by that?” Trip asks.

“B-because I s-sang for him on Sunday,” I say, my face lowered. “I really didn’t mean to sing—I don’t know if it was allowed—but it was like he pulled the song out of me.”

When I glance up at Virus’ face—to gauge how much trouble I am in for singing—but I’m sure he knew about my song. Didn’t Rai tell me on his way out that he hoped to hear me sing again? Virus still looks displeased, and against my better judgment, I continue foolishly, “I’m sure I mentioned I sang to him—in fact, the prince himself said that he was looking forward to hearing me sing again on his way out the door! And you must have seen that I referred to my song in the note I sent him…”

“And you sang for him again today? Despite the fact that you were so severely punished for singing to Akira?” Virus asks. He is making me feel very stupid and even more naive.

“He pulls it from me!” I plead. “I don’t know how—but my guess is because he is a Touga and he can bring it out of me. And that was what he wanted from me! It is my talent after all, sir.” Tears burn in my eyes, but I feel angry and afraid rather than grief or regret. I’m so frustrated that I’m told to obey and am punished when I do or don't. I really don’t want any additional punishment. I hate feeling so controlled, and I am starting to believe what Rai said about not fencing me in. To my dismay, my mouth opens and more words spill out. “Please! I was told to please him—and I did what he asked and sang for him—but I did not want to expose my injuries—” 

“Your skin is not injured,” Virus corrects me sternly. “That is discipline. You were disciplined! It's part of your training.” 

“I tried to explain that I was simply not doing well in training, sir, but he—”

“I’m sure a cat as privileged as the prince is would fill your head with unnecessary ideas,” Virus interrupts. “I’m aware that he does not approve of our methods here. They are valid, however—tried and true methods for training young kittens to make their way in the world. I warned you it would be rigorous, didn’t I?”

“You did—but I thought it would at least be fair, sir!” My voice is much louder than I intended.

“I don’t know what pretty little words he whispered into your ear, or what you believe you are to him—but Konoe, he is a client! He will never be anything except one of many customers you are destined to serve! Get that through your thick head! Haven’t you learned anything from Aoba? He should have shared his own experience with you. And what do you think the prince is going to do? Take you with him when he hunts? For gods’ sake, kitten—you are a child! He is a means to an end—and that is all!”

I press my lips together, and the tears burning in my eyes finally spill over. 

“But I…”

“You what? You are in love with him? Kitten, that cat is the most dangerous bounty hunter in the land. He is the illegitimate son of this country's former king, and that is his half-brother on the throne! He has been indulged his entire life and he has an appetite for violence! His reputation is earned—and he has even bested our own fencing instructor in combat. His entire bloodline is tainted with violence!”

“N-no…” 

“You’d better listen. Whatever promises he made to you—I mean, hell, if for some reason he ever requests you for an evening at his estate—and if you somehow manage to please him this weekend, he may take that next step—you will find out firsthand what sort of brutal tastes he has! That is, if you manage to please him in any way this weekend. He has bribed us to make sure he wins your auction—and I swear to gods, I’ve never seen any cat so worked up about one of our students before. You will be lucky if you can walk the next day—even if you are both in heat and as compatible as you seem to be.”

“B-but he was k-kind—” 

“Kind?!” Virus barks. “You need to get your head out of the clouds and look to your future. You are no one—you have no pedigree, no money, no land, no title. You are nothing to him! You need to think of yourself and consider that you are no real match for him. His brother would never allow any of his siblings to attach themselves to a commoner. If he does eventually purchase you outright, you will be his slave, not his equal!” 

“Damn, kitten, you really don’t know anything about how the real world works, do you? It’s almost cute—if it weren’t so pathetic,” Trip growls quietly. 

Despite the lovely, tender experience I shared with Rai this morning, I can’t deny any of the words that Virus and Trip are saying. I am afraid that I am not enough—I’m not good enough, I don’t have anything of value. And yes, he said I am intriguing and that he likes my song, but I have no idea how much power—if any—I have. What if I am just a pretty face to him? What if I’m a fling he is simply flirting with for the season?

Worse, what if he is as violent as everyone says he is? What would I do then? How could I possibly ever defend myself against him? If he decides he wants to rape me on on Saturday, I know I could never fight him off. But I think—even then—even if he did only see me as a slave, I’d still be more eager to please him than I ever would to please Virus and Trip. Or anyone else, for that matter!

“I love him,” I whisper through my tears.

“Love?! Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t possibly love a person you’ve only ever met twice—someone you’ve only spent three hours with him in your entire life! You have no idea who he really is!”

A small sob leaks from my throat. I am terribly wounded. If this is true and if he isn't who I think he is, I don’t want to believe it. Wouldn’t it be better for Virus to tell me that yes, Rai loves me and will be kind to me to enforce my good behavior this weekend? To make me my most charming? Why are they talking like this? It hurts!

“He loves you just as much as he needs to in order to gain your affections,” Virus continues. “He is manipulating you—tempting you—playing on your hormones. Feel free to revel in the attention, since it definitely makes you more attractive. It shows off how innocent you really are. But I’d suspect after you spend the night with him, your feelings will change. And if his desire hasn’t been cooled, you’re going to be in for some serious pain.”

Tears are falling freely down my cheeks—and my heart is sore and aching in my chest. But even still! He has to be better than this—better than this arbitrary violence that these two cats enjoy inflicting so much! I saw his face—I met his eyes—when he had me in his mouth. Even if he punished me, I would do anything to see that look in his eye! I know I could please him if given the chance. My jaw is set firmly, my teeth clenched, despite my quiet sobs.

“Listen,” Virus breathes deeply, brushing his fingers through my fur—and it feels so wrong after Rai touched me, like he is brushing my fur backward. It’s almost painful! I know he means to be tender, but it feels all wrong! “Listen, we want what is best for you. I don’t want you to end up heartbroken. I’m trying to give you a realistic idea of what to expect, all right?” 

I don’t reply, and my chin is grabbed. Virus cranes my neck back awkwardly, forcing me to meet his gaze. I struggle to try to look at least a little submissive, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“What’s with this defiant look?” My jaw is squeezed tight—and I am aware he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “We want what is best for you. You are in our custody—in our care—which is right where you will remain. You’d probably be much better suited for a life with the old tiger cat at the inn than you would be with a prince. You’re a commoner through and through—even when we dress you up, teach you manners and etiquette, and educate you. You’d be better suited as a housekeeper than you ever will be for a prince’s companion. He would tire of you so quickly and leave you to his staff. Do you think you would you enjoy that? Being the plaything of a bounty hunter’s staff?” 

“N-no, sir,” I stammer softly, trying to lower my gaze submissively. But in reality, I am denying his words—I’m not answering his question. I would much rather leave my care and wellbeing to this kindhearted prince than I would to these psychopaths!

“Plus, I predict that the prince’s brother, the dance instructor, the devil tailor, and Arbitro will all be eager to get their hands on you, after your debut. You have excellent prospects. I’m sure the owner of that inn and our fencing instructor would love to sample your charms.”

“And you won’t be going anywhere—at least not for any extended period of time,” Trip adds.

I feel devastated—but my mind is made up. They can say whatever they want—and it wounds me to hear, and yes, it worries me, too. I know I’m not good enough. But still! I will do anything. And he promised!

But what if he means he only wants to take me home with him for a few days? What if he is abusive—after he gets me to agree? I would fall for him and submit to his desires, no matter how painful or depraved, even for a slim chance of tenderness. 

I don’t argue anymore. I’m shocked I haven’t earned myself a punishment from my attitude—and I wonder if it’s because Rai had words with them before he left today. 

“Come with me,” Virus says, dragging me out of the bedroom down the hall to his office. He pushes me inside and forces me against the desk. I feel so vulnerable and frightened now—I'm sure I will be punished—as he bends over the back of my body and presses himself against me. I feel I may be crushed under his weight.

But he leans over me heavily in order to grab a bag on his desk. He shoves it in front of my face—and I see… gold. More gold coins than I have ever seen in my life are in that bag—more than I could have ever expected to see throughout the rest of my life as well. What is this?

“S-sir? P-please, sir,” I beg, trembling nervously and confused. 

“Have you ever seen so much gold? This is what your beloved prince has exchanged for your virginity. You have been sold—your body has been sold! The man you think you love has offered this money—and a promise of more—as well as his half-brother king’s patronage—in order to buy you. You’re nothing more than a commodity, kitten.”

The gold is a significant blow—but I already knew Rai bribed Virus to see me. I knew it when he came in today. And yet—he still treated me tenderly and with care. I don’t know for sure that he isn’t trying to trick me. I really don’t! And the quantity I see shimmering in the bag is certainly more than I expected.

But in a way—doesn’t this assure me, too? He really desires me—he doesn’t want to see me go to anyone else. He made me promise not to sing for anyone else but him. I know he desires me—and this is proof. Virus might mean to discourage and dishearten me. But I know the truth.

Either that, or I am hopelessly lusting after a gorgeous cat who will never truly be mine. But even so—even if it is for a single night… and it pains me to even imagine that he might have lied or deceived me—I will do whatever he wants—and I will gladly submit to his wishes. No matter how violent—I know he will reward me, too. I know he will treat me with a little tenderness.

He groomed me this morning. He saw to my physical needs—required nothing from me in return except that I relax and enjoy his touch—and then he actually groomed me. I haven’t experienced that sort of tenderness—ever. What is the point of grooming if not to show genuine affection? Even if he punishes me—even if I fail to please him—I will still have that memory, and there is nothing anyone can do or say to change that fact. 

However, given the state of affairs and my current lack of submission, I have to be smart. I nod my head slowly—still fascinated with the amount of gold in that bag—does he really think me worth that much? I do feel treasured—and that in itself is a fucked up idea. Slavery does not exist anymore in Sisa, does it? It’s merely a bribe—to ensure that no one else ends up with me.

“I understand, sir,” I say quietly and as submissively as possible. I try to apologize and try to say I was mistaken—but I just can’t bring myself to do it.

“I’m glad, kitten. We don’t like to see kittens get their hearts broken around here.” My ass is stroked in an overly friendly way. “Your assets will get you far in this world—and I will teach you how to use them to your best advantage. But you need to keep your expectations realistic.”

I nod, cringing when I feel his fingers sliding up the inside of my thighs. My fur bristles and I struggle not to pull my legs together. 

“Now. Let’s calm down and go back to my room.”

Once we return to his chamber, Virus demands I strip—and my ears lower and my tail sags. I don’t want to—but I know I have no choice. He is also quite particular about how quickly I take off my clothes, telling me to slow down and make it pretty—my ears heat up but I am not nearly as mortified as I have been.

Is this a good thing?

In all honesty, lying naked in Virus’ room isn’t nearly as serious of a punishment as it was only two weeks ago, or even one week ago. I don’t like Virus and Trip staring at my body, but I understand I have no choice—and I do have something I am looking forward to in two days.

Part of me wonders if I will end up a different person than I intended to be. Surely, my life here is completely different than it was in Karou. My modesty is completely shot, and so is my sense of self-control. As I lie here, I start fantasizing a bit about what my life might be like with the silver cat.

You don’t know anything about me.

I’m sure that’s what he said. The base of my spine tickles a little when I remember his words. They were almost issued as a threat—as though he had nefarious plans for me. But then, the nefarious plans that await me after my debut at this very school are too much to bear. I know that both Virus and Trip have it out for me—and part of me worries about Verg, Arbitro and even Bardo, too. Is it true that I will be, as Aoba said, “open season”? What about the other students?

Regardless, I’d be willing to submit myself to whatever Rai wants in order to get out of here. It’s fine by me if he has a little violence in mind—it can’t possibly be as extreme as what I’ve already been through. After seeing him this morning, I know he desires me and that whoever I’ve become right now pleases him. I need to be sure to keep it that way.

To a large part, I feel like his tender touch was just a dream or fantasy. I mean—it was even better than the dreams and fantasies my brain has been filled with the past few days. But I’m so relaxed and relieved now—even several hours later, and after this horrible discussion with Virus and Trip.

Once my clothes come off, however, I am subjected to an intrusive exam—involving my lower half without any clothing. He seems pleased with me, however, when he examines me. I can't help remembering Akira's state, after he spent the night with that customer, and how sore he was. They had to hold him down despite his exhaustion. I shudder with horror. 

I am surprised, since I was half expecting another beating—but the afternoon has gone by quickly and I haven’t had any significant discipline, besides an occasional sharp slap to my butt.

Will Rai beat me as well? Is that my lot in life? Even if he does, I figure he will be reasonable and fair—even if he’s violent. But what if I can’t sing for him? Or if I embarrass him this weekend? Or if I fail to please him… sexually? Would he punish me then? I feel I would deserve it, and I would willingly take whatever he wanted to dish out—but again, I don’t really know him. Maybe I my expectations are too high.

Chapter Text

Friday—the day before the social—turns out to be a horrible day. The only way I manage to get through it is by keeping in mind I will see the prince tomorrow.

While I’m allowed to sleep in, when I wake in the morning I’m sure I must be ill. My body is even hotter and sweatier than it was yesterday—and I ache all over. When Virus wakes me, I feel like I can barely get out of bed.

“Deal with it, kitten. You’re not ill. This is a good sign, actually.”

I flatten my ears to his insensitive remark and I wait for him to explain himself. He doesn’t, however. Instead, he pulls the sheets off my body, drags me to the edge of the bed, and smacks my ass. Hard.

I yelp—even though he only used his hand, my skin is sensitive. Tears appear in my eyes, and I am frightened—especially since I’m now in the prime position for Virus’ favorite form of discipline.

“One more day till we serve you up to our clients, kitten. I was hoping you’d be somewhat more obedient today. I don't think we should welt your ass unless it's absolutely required.”

“I-i’m s-sorry, sir,” I stammer fearfully. “M-my body aches, and I feel like I have a fever.”

Virus glides his hands over my lower back, tail, and ass. The touch feels different today. I usually prefer a tender touch to any form of discipline, but this morning it feels like he is rubbing my fur the wrong way. It makes me feel sick.

A small growl appears in my throat—completely uncontrolled and unbidden. I’m surprised at the sound, and Virus certainly does not appreciate it.

“What’s this? Disobedience?” 

Smack! Another sharp spank to my skin, and it makes me feel like leaping off the bed. I can’t explain why I feel so different today. I lower my ears and my head, grasping the sheets with my hands. 

“You would dare growl at me?”

Smack! A quiet yelp escapes my mouth again, even when I try to bite it back. Then, Virus speaks to me again, and he must be leaning over me because his mouth is right next to my ear.

“I am trying to help you succeed. You’d better be careful not to raise my ire today. I will take the hairbrush to you again if you disobey me. I don’t care what the prince has asked.”

Tears blur my vision when I hear the cruel words.

“Oh? This displeases you?” Virus must have noticed my tears, and shame courses through my body. “If you think you are in for it now, just wait what sort of clientele you’ll attract tomorrow. I’m sure our fencing instructor will fall for this ass—especially if he sees it reddened and sore.”

I shiver with revulsion and a strange pleading mewling sound echoes in my ears. I don’t even notice that it’s me. Today—I just can’t stand him touching me! The spanking just feels so wrong! It’s the wrong touch. It shouldn’t be him. 

“Yes, I can feel you’re not compatible with me. That’s your body, fearing my touch. But I don’t really care about compatibility. I will fuck you either way—as soon as you’re available.”

A wave of nausea rises in my throat. I swallow it right back down, for fear of insulting him and getting into an even worse punishment. I remember what he did to me the last time I vomited in his presence: what followed was my first public strapping. Really, I’ve only been punished publicly that time and once again with Akira. It doesn’t help my nausea any to remember either occasion.

“Please,” I whisper. “I will do whatever you want.” 

Seriously, I don’t want him touching me. And right then—he licks my ear, and it feels so utterly disgusting! I cannot imagine sharing a bed with him tonight!

“Oh, you will. Get your clothes on, kitten.”

I obey, standing up from the bed and dressing in my uniform. It’s starting to feel strange to wear clothes. The past few days, I’ve only worn my uniform to my dancing lessons and when I received Rai as a visitor. Otherwise, I’m not permitted clothing and have to stay in Virus’ chamber.

After serving Virus a light breakfast—and eating very little myself—I have dance lessons. Virus informs me that this is my last chance, so I’d better do well. Koujaku himself is here to teach me, and he is praising my progress. I let his words flow in and out of my ears, nodding silently, doing exactly as he says.

Once, I miss a turn—and I am so ashamed and frightened that my body reflexively drops to its knees before I realize what I’ve done. I have my head lowered at the ground, staring at Koujaku’s black shoes, and tears in my eyes.

When did I get to be so skittish? And so fearful of punishment?

Worse, what if this is my life from now on—even if Rai does get me out of here tomorrow. What if he punishes me, too? The tears I’ve done well holding back actually do slip down my cheeks when I hear Koujaku sighs deeply. I have disappointed him. 

“I-i a-apologize,” I say from my place at the floor.

“Listen, kitten,” Koujaku says quietly, scratching the base of my ears. It feels a little uncomfortable but not nearly as wrong as when Virus touched me. “It’s natural to miss a step now and then. Tomorrow, just keep moving and you will be just fine. You are a graceful dancer. I’m sure you will please my brother.”

I look up as Koujaku pulls me up to stand. He's a prince, too. Maybe I should ask about Rai. He should know his brother’s temperament, shouldn’t he?

“I’m very much looking forward to hearing you sing,” he says quietly, still examining my face and wiping the tears from my eyes. “I know my brother is, too.”

Maybe now would be a good time to get information. I follow his movement when we start dancing again, steel myself and meet his gaze.

“About your brother…”

“You mean Rai?” 

“Yes. What kind of person is he?” I ask, keeping my voice very quiet.

Koujaku responds with a soft chuckle.

“Well, that’s a hard question to answer, actually. He’s… certainly unique.”

Looking away, I dare to elaborate my question.

“He came to see me yesterday.”

Koujaku raises his eyebrows.

“Did he?”

“He did. And he was… kind to me. But…” I let my voice trail off, hoping Koujaku will understand what I am asking.

“But what?”  

I sigh softly.

“But I have heard he is ruthless and cruel. He doesn’t act like that around me. He is very… tender. It’s confusing. I mean, I know he is a bounty hunter. He kills and captures prey for a living. Is he… trying to trick me?”

Again, a deep sigh from my dance instructor.

“Kitten, use your head for a moment. Why would he deceive you? Why would he have the need to do that?”

“H-he s-said… he would take me away from here,” I whisper very softly, even though we are alone in the dance studio. I would be in so much trouble if I was overheard.

“Do you mean for a few days? The school does, um, loan out its students from time to time.”

Jerking up my chin, I shake my head.

“I think he meant he’d get me out of here.”

Koujaku doesn’t speak for a few minutes.

“I tried that—with Aoba—right after his debut. But I couldn’t keep him more than a week before I was forbidden to see him again. You are not royalty, either.”

My ears droop and my heart sinks. 

“No,” I agree sadly. “I am not anything.” Then I stop dancing. “Wait. That’s not right. I do have something. I have my voice. I am a Sanga. Couldn’t he make use of me?”

“Make use of you?” Koujaku echoes. “Is that really what you want for yourself?”

“What I want…?” I hadn’t even considered. What on earth has happened to me that I haven’t even thought about what I want?

“Yes, kitten. What do you want?”

“I…” I pause for a moment, thinking. “Well, I don’t know. But I know I want to get away from this place. I hate it here. Virus and Trip are cruel—and I am afraid of what they have planned for me after tomorrow—” 

I stop my words mid-sentence. Koujaku has stopped dancing and is looking down at me sharply.

“Cruel?” He repeats.

“Um—they are unfair,” I try to explain, lowering my gaze. “I often am not even given a chance to do as I’m asked—or when I do, it isn’t right or fast enough, and then I am punished.”

“I see.” 

“I think—um—even if I wasn’t a good Sanga at first, I could learn. I want to learn. I want to please him.”

“My brother?”

“Yes. I think even if I displeased him, he would discipline me fairly.” After a short pause, I ask, “Am I wrong to believe such a thing?”

Koujaku sighs again, and this doesn’t add to my confidence.

“If I don’t go with him, I will be open game for every student and every teacher at this place!” I add rather desperately. “I don’t want to be used that way! I don’t think that is my true purpose!”

“You know, kitten…” Koujaku hesitates before continuing. “Rai is not as kindhearted as you seem to think he is.”

“He has to be better than Virus and Trip!” I hiss quietly. “With him—I at least have a chance! Here… I am struggling to survive!”

“Listen, I should let you know his reputation is not undeserved. It isn’t that he isn’t kind—but he did not grow up knowing love. His mother died when he was born, and he was raised as a stepchild, treated unkindly and unfairly by my father. He escaped the castle when he was still only a child and had to fend for himself. He may not understand what love and kindness are. And I have seen him work. He enjoys his job.”

I swallow thickly.

“I know that. I think I could help him. With my voice, I mean—with his work.”

“Have you sung for a Touga before?”

“I have. I sang for him.”

“I mean, have you ever paired with one in battle?”

“N-no. B-but I am willing to learn. I… I would sacrifice my strength and life for his.”

Koujaku grabs my chin and lifts my gaze up to meet his. He’s looking so sharply at me.

“You don’t even know him, Konoe. How can you say such a thing?”

My ears flatten again, fearfully.

“I-i d-don’t m-mean to presume,” I falter slightly, intimidated by that glare. "I-i don't expect a-anything in return—"

“How does he know you aren’t using him just to get out of here? I know he wouldn’t take kindly to that. I hate to think what he would do to you if you deceived him in that manner.”

“Th-that’s n-not wh-what I mean,” I say. “I think I, um, love him.” I feel my ears heating up, and Koujaku’s gaze softens slightly, resting on my blushing ears.

“Have you spoken to my brother about your feelings?”

“N-not p-precisely.”

“You haven’t told him you love him?”

“I haven’t. I wouldn’t want to put that kind of pressure on him,” I explain, lamely. “I know I don’t have a title, or a name, or money, or property.”

“Kitten, I don’t know that matters—to him, anyway. I just—well, I just worry he’s, er, inexperienced. You should be direct.”

“Does he have a temper?” 

“He isn’t easily riled, but he doesn’t have much patience for stupidity,” Koujaku admits.

Am I stupid? I don’t think so. Is that what Koujaku is implying?

“Also, he doesn’t appreciate being told what to do. Nor does he appreciate having things dangled in front of him that he can’t have.”

I flatten my ears a little.

“I-i’m n-not doing that! He, um, can have me.” I really want to ask if Koujaku thinks I’m stupid now, but all I can do is glance up at his face in confusion and anxiety. I don't dare ask anything else.

The rest of the dance lesson goes well, and Koujaku takes the time to praise my progress to Virus—emphasizing that I need rest in order to do well tomorrow. He suggests giving me the rest of the day off.

“I’d love to do that, but Konoe is scheduled for his treatment today,” Virus says.

Treatment? What treatment?! When I glance at Virus to see what he’s talking about, he just ignores me. As soon as Koujaku leaves, Virus grabs my arm.

“Head up to the main bathing area upstairs. You will be prepared for tomorrow.”

“Prepared how, sir?” I ask.

Raising his eyebrows, Virus smacks my ass again. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t—and I just asked a question—and I was even polite about it! It brings tears to my eyes, mostly because of how much it hurts my feelings.

“No questions. Just obey.”

Nervously, I head upstairs—and I haven’t been here in a while. I wonder if my bouquet is still alive—after almost two weeks, there’s no way it could be. I am tempted to check, but I don’t want to delay whatever is coming. I open the double-doors to the bathing chamber. The moment I step inside, however, a dark menacing aura falls over me. What is this feeling? I know I’ve felt it before—but a hand grabs my arm suddenly and pulls me close.

“There you are, kitten. I wanted to take my time with you and see to you personally,” a deep voice growls in my ear—and looking down, I see fur-covered spats. My body is being pressed against a bare chest—and I know from the revulsion I feel it is that devil, Verg. It feels so very wrong for him to touch me today—much worse than usual, and I feel ill.

“I-i will obey, sir,” I say. “You can release me.” 

“When I’m good and ready.” He lowers his nose to the base of my ears and smells me and moves down my neck, smelling me a little longer there. “Mmm. Honey and orange blossom. Such a sweet scent. You smell quite ripe. Are you uncomfortable?”

I try to wiggle out of his arms when I answer honestly.

“Yes, sir. Please—it doesn’t feel right for you to touch me. Sir.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I meant—physically speaking—are you hot? Feverish? Achy?” 

“Um, yes, sir.” I’m a little surprised Verg can tell what I’m feeling.  

“Good. This will make tomorrow go much more smoothly. But today, I want to prepare you for your costume tomorrow. To start, strip. We’re going to wash and scrub your skin.”

“I—I, um, don’t need help with this, sir,” I say, not daring to raise my gaze.

“Well, you’re already disobeying me. So I beg to differ.” Verg’s hand slides down to the base of my tail—and it feels all wrong! But then, I feel a sudden electric shock rush through my body. It’s so strong it makes my ears twitch. A small pained meow escapes my mouth, despite my best efforts to bite it back. 

“Please,” I whisper.

“Things will only get more uncomfortable for you if you disobey. Now strip.”

Discouraged, I obey. Stepping away from Verg I keep my face pointed at the floor, and I strip out of my uniform, standing naked in front of him. I cannot look up—that electric shock sent waves of desire through my body, and Rai’s face is glued in my mind—specifically, I remember how he touched me yesterday. I cannot get his image out of my head.

“Good boy. Now, into the shower with you.”

He pushes me under the warm water—and I see a stool in the shower stall. As soon as I rinse off my body, he pushes me into it and grabs my foot.

He has to be getting his clothes wet—but I’ve noticed he’s stripped off the furry spats, his gloves, and his jacket—leaving him in something that looks like leather underwear. He has a small basket beside him and begins scrubbing my feet with a mixture of scented oil, soap, and either salt or sugar—I can’t tell which. 

Using his hands, he scrubs me from head to toe—starting with my feet. He is incredibly thorough, and this is very embarrassing. When he massages each toe, it should feel good—this should be relaxing—but it isn’t at all. It’s uncomfortable and annoying. I find it upsetting—and when I try to pull my body away from his hands, he shocks me again.

During the entire process, I am shocked three time—and now, I find desire pooling in my waist, which is even more shameful.

“Obey and submit, kitten. The gods only know who you will have to please tomorrow. If you’re lucky, whoever it is will appreciate your reticence. If you aren’t, he will spank your cute little ass until you submit.”

I shudder—again worrying that Rai may not win my auction. Or worse—he might win and be something entirely different than what I think he is. I could end up in far worse condition than I’ve been in so far. I’m afraid.

When Verg is finished scrubbing my skin and rinsing me, he pulls me over to the spa. 

“Get in and sit on the side. Let me take care of your hair.” 

It feels nice to have him shampoo my hair, I’m ashamed to admit. He combs the conditioner through my hair and ears and then has me climb up to the top step. My groin is barely underwater, so he can obviously see I’m aroused. He applies shampoo and conditioner to my tail and the soft tuft of fur below my belly, letting it sit while he tends to my hands.

He uses a brush under my nails and claws. He brings a file up to my blunted claws—still trimmed short but not painfully so—and he shapes all the rough edges. Embarrassingly, he watches my face while he does this.

“I’d hate for you to damage any of your clients. Not everyone will enjoy scratching and biting, though you never know.”

That thought sticks in my head. Might there be cats who enjoy being bitten and scratched? It never occurred to me. I don’t say anything, however. I just submit and keep my eyes low. I can’t stand how he’s looking at me. It gives me the creeps—he makes me feel like prey. He applies some sort of oil to my cuticles and pushes them back, then he buffs my nails till they shine. He repeats the process on my toenails as well, using some sort of stone to smooth any callouses.

“Now, let’s groom your fur a little. Lucky for you, you have very fine fur, so you don’t require waxing.” 

I have very little body hair—just below my belly button and in my pubic region, and I’m nervous when I see Verg get out a small comb and scissors. He trims my hair, making me stand up and spread my legs. I’m incredibly ashamed to be so exposed. He shocks me again—for no reason I can tell since I am being obedient—and I blush even harder when my dick gets hard. He certainly feels free to touch me however he likes. Strangely, the more I feel more turned on, the more his touch feels good. It's not just embarrassing anymore. I also feel incredibly guilty, which probably shows on my drooping ears.

“There we go. Perfect. Your clients will adore seeing you so beautiful at your debut. I should fix your hair as well.”

He places both hands on my scalp for a moment, and suddenly I feel another shock. My ears bristle in surprise. Now when I receive those shocks, I don’t even fight them anymore. They are still only slightly painful and instead add to my arousal—even the one on my head. Although—my scalp starts to tingle weirdly, even after the shock has passed.

“There we go. Much better.” 

I bring my hand up to my hair for a moment, and I realize that my hair has grown in length. It’s past my shoulders—almost to my mid back. Not as long as the beautiful silver cat, of course—but longer than shoulder-length. It's close in length to Aoba's. Huh. Part of me wonders if Rai will like it like this.

Then, he rinses my hair and fur carefully—almost tenderly—and has me step out of the pool. 

“Now, let’s finish up this lovely skin.” 

He has me lie down on a padded bench, face down, to start, and he applies some sort of lotion to my body. It tingles a little when he rubs it into my shoulders and neck—and that feels really good and relaxing. I like it—but even though the relaxation is nice, there seems to be something slightly off-putting by Verg’s hands. I can’t explain it—except that vague feeling that the wrong person is touching me. I’ve been shocked so many times, though, that it starts to feel pretty nice. Even when I feel his fingers slipping between my cheeks—it feels invasive but also very nice. I only protest softly at the feeling.

“Good boy. This is how you should behave tomorrow, too. Now turn over and face front,” he growls softly. 

I obey—even though I’m naked—and the same lotion is applied thoroughly to the front of my body, too. Even my private parts are covered with this stuff—and Verg certainly takes his time there, moving slowly and deliberately. To my mortification, my dick starts to drip after he touches it so many times. 

“See—even though you aren’t compatible with me, you want it, don’t you?” 

I feel my ears blushing and I close my eyes when my chin is nudged. 

“Look at me.” 

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and manage to meet his gaze. His eyes really creep me out, and his fangs are peeking over his lips. My chin is tipped down, so I end up looking up at him through my lashes.

“That’s what we want to see. Keep your eyes open. I’m only sorry I can’t finish you up today. Virus forbade it. He wants you even more desperate tomorrow.”

When my front is finished, my dick is throbbing. But Verg isn’t finished with me yet. He takes a brush—and I flinch visibly when I see it, fearing it instinctively, much to his delight—and runs it through my new long hair and fur. It feels really nice on my tail—almost as nice as when someone else grooms it for me. 

“I heard a rumor about you, kitten,” Verg murmurs as he runs the brush through my fur. “I heard you can come untouched—well, at least when someone else plays with your tail. Can you do it on your own, too? Or does it have to be another cat?”

I don’t reply—I’m too ashamed. But it’s stupid of me not to reply since I’m lying on my stomach and Verg has that brush in his hand. He spanks my ass with it suddenly, and I’m horrified by the vulgar sound that escapes my lips.

“Ah! Um,” I start moving my mouth immediately. “I-i’ve never tried doing it myself, sir.” 

“Do you mean ever? Or using your tail?” 

Why is he asking me this? This has nothing to do with my appearance. Apparently, my hesitation to answer is too long and I’m spanked again. This time, it hurts bad enough to make tears burst from my eyes.

“Please, sir! I’m sorry—and I mean, I haven't tried with my tail.”

“It’s a skill,” Verg says. “You should perhaps learn to make yourself come by grooming your own tail. It’s certainly something I would enjoy watching.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I stammer—embarrassed. I’m sure he can see how red my ears are—and even as I think that, I feel him stroking them softly. 

“Pink ears. Adorable.” 

The fingers of the hand not holding the hairbrush currently brushing my tail creep just beneath the base of my tail. I shiver—I am desperately hoping it is fear I am feeling, and I'm horrified to think it might be something else. 

“You know—just because I’m not supposed to finish you off doesn’t mean you can’t,” Verg suggests. “Why don’t you try with your tail?”

“Now?” I ask, incredulous. I really don’t want to 

“Now.”

“Um—I don't think I'm allowed, sir. I’m fine…” I look away for a moment.  

“You aren’t. Or if you are now, you won’t be.” He reaches down toward my tail and shocks me again, making another embarrassing noise spill out. “I’m sure I can leave you just as desperate when you’re finished. So go ahead.”

“Please,” I start—but he spanks me again with the brush.

“Just do as you’re told. Kneel up on the bench so I can watch.”

He’s being serious! I move my body up onto all fours and then push back so I’m sitting on my knees.

“B-but wh-what if someone c-comes in, sir?” I keep my voice quiet and won’t meet his gaze. This is too public of a place.

My chin is grabbed again, and Verg cranes my neck up to meet his eyes: one gray, one green. A chill shivers down my spine.

“I don’t hate this little innocent act, but I want to watch. It would serve you to obey. If you can’t do this here, what the hell are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Something like this won’t be expected—”

“Like hell! What do you think Aoba is going to be doing to you up on that stage? Now, do as I’ve asked.”

I don’t think I can do this while he’s watching me so closely.

“Would you like me to fetch an audience for you, kitten? I can call out and I’m sure we could get more people in here.”

“No! Please don’t, sir,” I murmur. I take my tail in my hand and shut my eyes for a second. 

“Do you need assistance?” 

“Uh—ah!” I cry out again when Verg sends another shock through my body.

“I know you enjoy the feeling. So go with it.” 

I start grooming my tail—it tastes a little salty from my tears. I do this because… what if Rai wants me to do something like this for him? Wouldn’t I submit to it willingly? Why does it feel so different when Rai is actually with me? 

Keeping his face at the forefront of my mind, I start licking my tail—the tip—in soft strokes. I don’t groom it—I’m licking it—and trying to imagine someone else (my bounty hunting prince, for example) licking me. It does feel quite good—and within a few minutes, I’m pretty close. But then Verg’s low voice rumbles and I remember where I am.

“That’s very pretty. You look so wonderfully desperate. Keep going—”

He’s interrupted when the doors to the bathing chamber swing open, and I quickly lower myself onto the table, sitting down on my ass—hoping that I won’t get in trouble. It’s Virus.

“What the hell is going on here?! I gave you specific instructions, Verg!”

“Ah, but he looks so delicious. I wanted to see if he could come from grooming his own tail—and look how pretty he looks!”

Virus takes two steps over to me and grabs my hair. He looks surprised at first when he yanks my hair. He's surprised enough to loosen his grip a little.

“What’s this? Long hair? It’s pretty on him.” 

“I thought it might, too,” Verg says.

I’m dragged off the table and Virus bends me over it.

“I told you your body is no longer your own,” he mutters in my ear.

I’m really upset—because I didn’t want to do any of this! 

“Please, sir! Verg asked me to do this, and I thought I’d get in trouble if I disobeyed him!”

“But you should know better,” Virus says, smacking my ass several times with his hand—hard. Tears spill down my cheeks—and I’m pissed! I really can’t do anything right! There was no room in this scenario for me to do the “right” thing! I can’t believe it. So I simply cry and submit my body, despite my anger. I don’t know what else to do. 

Except that now, my mind is made up. I am going with Rai. Any life with him has got to be better than what is planned for me here. If I am being handled like this now, what will it be like once all of my body is available?!

I hate Virus. I hate Verg. I hate feeling like I don’t have any choice or any freedom. I hate being treated like an object. But that’s what’s in store for me today. I tell myself it's only one more day and I can deal with it. So, after putting on the robe he offers me, I follow Virus back to his room and lie down, daydreaming about tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Finally—it’s the day of the social. Virus didn’t sleep in the same bed with me last night, which was sort of nice. I went to sleep while he was doing paperwork, and when I wake up, he’s not in the room.

When I wake up, I feel different—my skin is smooth and fresh, and my hair feels weird. It’s long—as long as Aoba’s, in fact. I stretch out long in the bed—feeling my body heat raging inside me. It’s hot and uncomfortable—almost stifling. I can’t believe how hot I am even after I uncover myself from the sheets. My body is coated in a fine layer of sweat. 

And I’m aroused. I mean—that’s a normal reaction for me lately when I wake in the mornings, but this is different. This feels… specific. Like… I want the silver cat. I can’t stop thinking about how it felt when he touched me, and I want him to do it again.

Remembering the bag of gold I saw in Virus’ office yesterday, I realize that I will most likely be spending today with him. And tonight. And perhaps he will take me home with him. I want to go home with him if only to get out of this place.

This morning, that sounds pretty tempting. Even after everything I’ve heard about the bounty hunter, I am finding a part of me willing to put up with almost anything to be with him (and get away from here). He may be violent and aggressive—but that will certainly only come out if I fail to please him, won’t it?

Wait a minute. I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s time for me to get this fantasy I have of the beautiful prince and compare it to what is actually going on around me. I am pretty sure I will be expected to have sex with him tonight, and I’ve never done that before. I’m incredibly nervous—remembering how Virus and Trip have treated me in the past. They were certainly displeased with my performance up in the tower. In fact, I find it difficult to near impossible not to disappoint them in everything on a daily basis. If I fail to please Rai, will he change his mind about taking me with him? Will he punish me? For a second, I imagine what the silver cat would look like if he were disappointed—he might insist I make it up to him. A small shiver crosses my skin at the thought—and that… frightens me. Am I actually hoping he will punish me? Ugh! What the hell is wrong with me?!

I shake my head firmly to try to settle my thoughts, but the heat in my body is making it impossible. Would Rai spank me? Would he use a hairbrush? Or gods, what if he used that riding crop I’ve seen him carry with him? Why the hell does that idea sound so attractive to me right now?! When did I get so desperate?

And is it desperation? For what? For sexual gratification? For touch in general? I don’t think so, though my body tells me it is about sex. Most definitely about the sex. I specifically remember out in the gardens—Rai sitting in the grass by the stream, me straddling his lap, pushing myself against him—and I could feel his excitement. But wasn’t that so special because he was tender with me? He treated me like I was something precious. 

While I am struggling with my thoughts, the door to the bedroom opens. I’m lying on top of my sheets, naked and sweating, and I look up expecting to see Virus. It isn’t Virus. Nor is it Trip. To my dismay and horror, it’s Verg standing in the doorway. He has a nasty leer on his face, and he is ogling my naked body from the tips of my ears to my toes. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach, bordering on nausea.

“You look happy to see me, kitten,” he purrs softly, approaching the bed. I quickly grab the sheet and throw it over my lower half, trying to hide from him and show some modicum of decency. “Don’t cover up on my behalf. Virus said he was afraid to sleep in his own room last night—I can see why.”

My ears flatten and my tail curls up in question. What does he mean?

“You smell delicious. The stars have aligned perfectly for your debut, it seems. Come. Let’s get you ready for the day.” 

I do not want to obey this devil. He frightens me, and the way he is watching me now is terrifying.

“Where is Virus?” I ask, scooting away from him as much as possible.

“Now, now. I’m just here to prepare you for this afternoon. We want you at your very best. I’m here to prepare all of you, including Aoba, and Akira. You don’t plan on disobeying me so soon, do you? If you do… well. I’m afraid your day will become even more… desperate.”

The threat frightens me, especially the glee I hear in Verg's tone—but not enough to make me get up out of the bed.

“Come. Get up. You can even wear a robe if you like.”

I shake my head slowly—and I know I am defying him. But I am really afraid of Verg. He terrifies me—and this morning, there’s something about him that feels incredibly wrong. I mean, more wrong than it usually feels. 

“Kitten. Don’t start with me so early. I’m not a morning person and I will show you no mercy.”

I still don’t take his proffered hand. I don’t want to get up and expose myself to him. But I can’t escape, and he reaches out toward my ankle, which is still covered in the sheets and yanks me roughly across the bed. I give a little yelp, considering seriously crying out for Virus. I won’t be beaten the day of the social, will I? Verg wouldn’t—

And that’s when I hear it—the electrical crackle like strong static on a hot dry summer’s day. And just as soon as I hear the sound, my body jerks, my fur bristles, and a painful sensation floods me, starting from my left leg and surging up through my entire body. I actually let out a scream—and I know Virus should be able to hear me even from his office. But then, waves of desire pool in my hips, lapping indulgently, making me even harder than I already was.

I can’t defy Verg further. It would be stupid, so I climb out of bed as soon as I gather my wits and drop down to the floor on my knees, staring at his boots.

“I’m s-sorry, sir,” I mumble quietly, flicking my tail in front of my lap. 

“Much better. You feel a little different today, don’t you? Welcome to the world of adults.”

He drapes a red and orange paisley silk robe over my shoulders and pulls me up to stand. The robe is hanging open, and I really want to cover myself, so I try pulling it close to my body.

Immediately, I feel another shock—this one applied to my ear. It makes both of them bristle and twitch uncontrollably—and then an even heavier sensation flows to my hips. But I don’t resist. I know I will be punished again if I do. I drop my hands to my sides and glance up at the tall white-haired devil. He’s grinning down at me, I can see, through vision blurred with tears.

“Already? Precious little tears from the magic kitten? You certainly are ideal. I will be paying you a visit myself—tomorrow, if I can, my dear.”

Dropping my gaze quickly, I suppress both my tears and my shudder, almost successfully—the tip of my tail quivers a little in horror. I really can’t imagine anything worse than having to spend the night with Verg. I simply stand still, waiting for his instructions. They don’t come for a few awkward moments.

Eventually, Verg touches my chin gently and then pulls the silk closed and ties it at my waist.

“We have much to do. Come.”

I follow him out of the door, down the hall and up the stairs to the main bathroom. Aoba and Akira are already waiting in the large hot pool—and while I expected to be alone (or only with them and Verg), the bathing area is a flurry of anticipation and preparation. Lots of other students are there, dressing, showering, bathing, and preening in front of the mirrors. Many eyes look up when I am led inside, and I feel their eyes crawling over me. I also notice ears, tails, and noses twitching.

I didn’t know that the social would involve the other students. This is not ideal, though I’m not sure what I can do about it. But one thing is for sure: If I didn’t have a target on my back before today, I certainly will now.

“Doesn’t he just smell ripe?” It’s the prefect—Tomoyuki, the cat with long auburn hair. He’s peeking around the shower to check me out. “And look at that robe, kitten! Today must be your special day! Like your birthday, you know? Only sexier!” 

A shudder crawls down my spine. I was hoping I could spend the day (or at least the morning) with a little privacy but it's apparent that isn’t going to happen.

“Don’t let him bother you,” Verg growls in my ear. He has me by the arm and is pushing me toward a shower stall at the end of the hall. “He’s just eager for your debut, and that’s a good thing.”

I certainly don’t believe anything about this situation is good. It’s humiliating to have Verg strip off my robe in front of everyone and push me under the hot water when I could do it myself and cause much less attention. I manage to soap myself up well enough. When I shampoo my hair, its new length feels foreign and weird in my fingers. Verg combs some conditioner through it and pulls me out from under the shower and drags me over to the pool. I can’t even fluff up my fur to cover myself, but I try—giving myself a porcupine tail. 

“Good morning,” I murmur quietly to Akira and Aoba. Aoba nods and returns my greeting, while Akira simply stares at me. 

“Are you ready for this evening?” Aoba asks, keeping his voice low. “It’s not as bad as all that. You have a rich person interested in you, so you don’t have to worry. Though… Verg seems to like you, too, huh?”

“I guess,” I reply. I don’t want to be rude, but at the same time I don’t want to discuss this now.

“The hard part, really, is the performance. But as long as you do what is expected of you, sing when you are told and make sure you do as Akira says, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Virus and Trip won’t punish you for no reason.”

For no reason? I certainly feel like I have been punished for no reason other than Virus’ or Trip’s pleasure since I’ve been here. I look around—and Verg has disappeared for a moment. I wonder where he went. I am feeling even warmer submersed in the hot water to my shoulders.

“Verg is already out to get me,” I whisper. “He has shocked me several times—and it’s very uncomfortable.”

“That’s just Verg. He thinks debutantes look better if they look both innocent and aroused. And he will keep doing that today. Just stay out of his way as much as possible,” Aoba explains. “At least he can’t actually do anything to you.”

Glancing at Akira, I wonder if he’s angry at me. He is scowling, which of course Verg notices as soon as he enters the room again.

“Akira, what have I told you about furrowing your brows like that?! Your job is to be pretty today. So wipe that look off your face.”

In response, Akira glares at him—and is immediately grabbed by the neck. I hear and see the shock run through him, and perhaps because I’m in the same water, I feel some of the effects of it myself. Waves of arousal make their way through my body, though I didn’t suffer from pain. A small gasp escapes my mouth—it sounds quite lewd, too—and my ears heat up in shame.

“Aw, could you feel that? Are you that sensitive, kitten? Today really must be the peak of your heat. I can’t wait to see your performance!” 

Flattening my ears, I look away, but I don’t respond. I’m upset and I don’t want to say anything.

Verg pulls Akira out of the water and leads him over to that padded bench. Verg covers him in lotion—and I try not to watch. Somehow, the idea of having someone—even Verg—spread lotion all over my skin is awfully attractive at this moment. The feelings are embarrassing and unfamiliar, but I realize I have been accustomed to this sort of treatment. And my body seems to crave tenderness of any kind. 

But then, I see Verg do something weird to Akira. He is lying on his stomach, and I hear Verg say, “Spread your legs.”

Akira doesn’t seem happy about this, but he obeys. Appalled, I watch as Verg sticks his finger between Akira’s cheeks, and I see Akira’s face change slightly. Then, Verg actually inserts something inside of him—a small thing, perhaps as long as a quail’s egg but much slimmer.

“Good boy. Now get dressed,” he orders Akira, nodding to a hanging suit. Akira obeys without objection. It looks like Akira will be wearing his fancy suit today. His cravat is a pretty blue silk print which accents his eyes.

Before Aoba is pulled out of the pool, I whisper, “Do we all get to wear our fancy clothing today?”

Aoba nods.

“Yeah. At least till tonight. Then we will be given some sort of costume for the performance.”

I’m slightly relieved I won’t be walking around nude all day. Aoba gets out of the pool before he is asked and lies down on the bench for his treatment. I wonder if Verg will put that thing inside him, too—and I needn’t have wondered. Aoba seems to expect it, and I am horrified.

When it’s my turn to get out, suddenly I realize that as much as my body is craving tenderness, I do not really want Verg to do that to me. I can’t quite relax when I lie down, even as Verg urges me to do so. Turning to my stomach, I grip the bench till my knuckles turn white.

“You’re really interesting,” Verg says. “Or is it just that you like me so much you don’t know what to do?”

I have no idea how to respond to that, so I say nothing. That’s the wrong choice, however, since Verg slaps me hard—right where my thighs and butt meet. I’m covered in lotion, so it makes a loud wet sound. It’s embarrassing more than painful, however. I lower my face to the bench to try to hide.

“Your ears are pink, kitten.”

When I still don’t reply, I get another slap. It’s humiliating since the other students are still in the room, watching everything. They can see everything Verg is doing to me.

“Y-yes, sir,” I stammer softly.

“Now, I need you to relax a little. I don’t want to hurt you, after all.”

I can’t seem to relax my body, as much as I try, and I start to get very anxious.

“Please, sir,” I beg softly. “I c-can’t—” 

But Verg grabs the base of my tail before I can say anymore and sends another shock through my body. I can’t help my reaction—my body lifts up off the bench almost completely. And this time, when the waves of pleasure flood my body, I definitely feel my dick responding and a small moan escapes my mouth. I’m ashamed—but the shock has the effect of making me more submissive.

A finger is pressed underneath my tail, and I shudder again.

“Spread your legs a little more. It will be more comfortable.”

I comply, but it isn’t more comfortable—not at all—when he pushes his finger inside me, stretching the ring of muscle at my entrance. Additionally, I feel something spill inside me—as though released from the tip of his finger itself. It feels liquid and sticky and utterly gross… and yet, despite those sensations, it’s not entirely unpleasant. 

I mistakenly turn my head to the side, I realize I still have an audience. There are a group of students watching Verg do this to me! I’m so ashamed and humiliated—and shocked, too—so I turn my head to the left instead. There are students over there, as well. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel my ears heat up even more. 

“See? It’s not so bad, is it?” Verg whispers, the rest of his hand cupping me right below my tail. He pulls out his finger and then pushes something else inside—that slim little thing he put inside Aoba and Akira. What is that? Even after he removes his finger, I can still feel that thing inside me.

“Wh-what—?”

“Oh. This is a little thing I use to make you kittens a little more compliant. If you disobey me—or if you don’t do as I ask fast enough, I can just do this…”

He snaps his fingers and that thing inside me starts to vibrate and hum. It’s almost like a purr, except in a place where I haven’t really had anything inside me before. It’s not only excessively distracting, but it also arouses me nearly to being overwhelmed. My body starts to writhe on the bench, but I can’t seem to get it out of me!

“Ah! Please—ah—stop!” I beg.

But Verg simply caresses my ass, and my response isn’t to pull away, much to my dismay. My hips lift up from the bench and press back into his hand.

“See? It makes you much more malleable. And my gods, it makes your scent stronger, too.”

“Please!” I beg again, as my body trembles and shivers. 

Verg snaps his fingers again, and my body collapses back onto the bench. I am incredibly hard now—my dick dripping underneath me and soaking the bench—and I am exhausted. The demon leans over my back and whispers in my ear. I feel his lips touch the fur on the outside, making my ear twitch away from him.

“Isn’t that nice? You should be glad it’s the devil of pleasure here to serve you today.”

I don’t know what is worse—the thing inside me or the shocks. But when I don’t dress quickly enough or tie my gold cravat appropriately, he alternates between shocking me and snapping his fingers. Aoba is looking at me like, “You stupid cat! Don’t you know to just please him?” As though I could actually do anything to prevent Verg’s treatment of me. And Akira… well, he just looks at me longingly.

Eventually, however, we are all three dressed—and I feel quite fancy. I’m pretty sure Rai will approve this outfit. It looks like a suit he’d wear, only in pin-striped black with a matching vest and soft ivory shirt underneath. My pants are really tight—and they feel precariously snug, as though people watching me walk might be able to see my ass jiggle. My hair is combed out down my back and shoulders, and Verg keeps fussing with it. He spends more time on my outfit than Akira’s or Aoba’s—but of course, they have done this before.

Finally, he finishes, and we are brought back downstairs to the parlor. Verg tells us to wait here patiently and keep out of trouble.

“You won’t be eating anything today, but you can drink as much as you like.” Verg is pouring something sparkling into four crystal flutes. He hands each of us a glass. He lifts up his glass and clinks it against each of ours. “Here’s to your successful debut, kitten, and a successful evening for you two.”

He takes a sip—and so do Aoba and Akira. The stuff is carbonated and tickles my nose when I drink it, but it tastes nice. I wonder if it’s grape juice. 

Verg pours us a second glass and leaves the room. I drink mine right away, and I notice that in addition to how hot and uncomfortable I feel, I’m starting to feel very relaxed. It’s an odd combination.

“Don’t, Akira,” Aoba’s voice warns. I look up just in time to see Akira taking a seat next to me on the couch.

“I don’t want to hurt you tonight,” he says quietly. “So I will go easy on you. You just need to do as I ask. Okay?”

“You mean—during the performance?” I ask.

“Yes. And you should slow down on the champagne. You don’t want to get sick so soon. Virus will make an example of you if you can’t obey him.”

“Champagne?”

“It’s alcoholic,” Aoba chimes in. “Seriously, Akira. You need to get away from him.”

Akira really smells good today—clean and fresh, a little like powder. His hair looks soft and shiny, too, and his eyes are sparkling such a clear blue. Why does he smell so nice? I reach out my hand and touch his ears. They are soft and plush—and my mind is flooded with the memory of him in that patch of catnip, touching me, undressing me, groping me. I can’t suppress my shiver.

“Seriously, stop!” Aoba says. He pulls me up off the couch and pushes me into another chair. “How stupid can you be? You two are probably only compatible because of the time you’ve spent together. But Virus will kill you both if something happens between you.”

“I don’t care,” Akira says, standing up. “You shouldn’t go to the bounty hunter. He will use you—he will abuse you when you don’t perform. And he will take you with him and make you work for a living. You need… someone who can take care of you.” His voice is soft and it echoes strangely in my ears.

“If you don’t stop this now, I will get Virus!” Aoba says. “Please!” 

I look up at the blue-haired cat. Why would he tell on us?

“Don’t be stupid. Come on. Just sit down and ignore your symptoms.”

Akira gives me a longing glance before moving away from my chair and sitting on the couch. 

“This is wrong,” he mutters. “You’re a Sanga! They can’t treat you like this! It just… feels all wrong.”

“You can’t do anything about it and you know it,” Aoba states. “After tonight, you can stick to him like glue.”

“I won’t be here after tonight,” I say plainly. 

“What?” Both the other cats look up at my words.

“I’m going home with Prince Rai,” I state.

“Don’t!” Akira urges. “You don’t even know him! He'll only keep you for a few days and once your heat wears off, you'll be sorry!”

“But it has to be better than how I am treated here! I can’t do this—I can’t walk around the school always trying to protect myself from students and teachers. I won’t be treated like prey to be devoured!”

“I’ll protect you,” Akira says.

“That didn’t go very well last time, and I don’t want to be responsible for your injuries when they let Shiki have you again! Or worse, when he takes you home!”

Akira’s fur bristles out—it’s short but very thick. It’s cute—adorable, really—when his ears get all fluffy.

“Shut up, both of you,” Aoba says. “Even if you do go home with the prince tonight, Konoe, he’s going to return you in a week. He’s a prince, for gods’ sake! You can't stay with him!"

I don’t say anything else. Instead, I purse my lips and pick up a book from the table and page through it listlessly. 

Verg comes in a few times to check on us—by which I mean he snaps his fingers and makes all three of us incredibly uncomfortable when that buzzing starts. But thankfully, he turns them off before he leaves.

“What the hell is this?” I whisper, more to myself than the others. I’m so uncomfortable now I can hardly stand it. I really want to take off my clothes—it’s so hot! I can feel a thin coat of sweat covering my skin.

“You really do smell nice,” Akira says again. He stands up from the couch and walks over to me.

“Seriously, don’t!” Aoba warns.

“I can’t help it,” he says. Akira throws himself on me, making me fluff out my fur in surprise but not really displeasure. I feel his hands wrapping around my back. While I expect to be made even more sweaty by the touch and even more uncomfortable, I’m pleasantly surprised when his touch is strangely soothing.

But before he can kiss me, Aoba is pulling him off me—desperately. And Aoba is surprisingly strong. I would never have guessed. 

“Don’t! Akira, you’ve already gotten Konoe punished once for this. Do you want to do it again today? Publicly? I have no doubt that Virus would make him pay for your actions.”

Akira looks at me—his face filled with guilt.

“I just… I just don’t want him to go with the bounty hunter.”

My ears bristle and flick back against my head. Why not? It’s got to be better than here! Plus… I like Rai.

“You don’t have any say in the matter, and Konoe doesn’t either. You know this. You’ve been through this before. Think about what Virus has done in the past!”

Akira pales slightly and turns away. He sits back down on the couch.

“I have no idea what they’re thinking—leaving you two in here together like this,” Aoba says. He sounds like a nagging mother. “Just… keep your hands to yourself.”

I loosen my cravat and unbutton the top button of my shirt. It’s so hot in here. My leather boots come up to my knees, and they are hot, too! I notice Akira watching me as I do this.

“I’m serious! Stop it!” Aoba yells. “I don’t want to see it! Akira, you can’t have forgotten what happened to me last season!”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. He keeps his head down, pointed to his lap.

The day passes very slowly, but eventually, Virus comes in.

“Stand up, kittens. Let me see you before we let you out into your natural habitat.”

We all obey, and Virus examines each of us. He pins a fresh rose onto Akira’s collar—a deep red. Aoba gets a pretty white and pink lily and I am given a small bundle of jasmine. He explains the flowers were chosen to enhance our natural scents. He buttons my shirt and tightens my cravat, and then gives my ass a squeeze. 

“We’re counting on you to break the auction record this evening, Konoe.”

My ears blush when he speaks.

“In the meantime, I expect you to mingle with all the guests, paying them equal attention and being obedient. Pour them drinks, serve them food, let them touch you if they like—but only over your clothes. Don’t be heading off into the gardens alone with anyone."

I wonder—what should I do if Rai wants to walk back to that stream again? I can’t do what Virus is asking and still be obedient to Rai!

“Sir, what if a guest tries to get me alone? What should I do?”

“Comply, but do not undress. You must tell him to bid on you and wait for his turn with you this evening. Also, if he does not win, tell him you will be available starting next week. He can speak to me about making an appointment.” 

I feel nausea rising in my stomach. I’m not exactly sure what to do, but I nod and agreeably mumble, “yes, sir.”

“Keep in mind that Verg will be among the crowd and he may, er, interfere with some of your conversations with that device you are, um, holding.” 

My ears bristle in fear. Meaning… he can just switch it on whenever he likes? I can’t tolerate that! I’ll do my best to keep out of his way.

“He says you are all responding well. Have an enjoyable afternoon, kittens. Be sure to be the upstanding students of Applebaum's I know you are. Each of you has a chance for one of the royalty this evening—if you please them. So work your hardest. Let’s go. The guests will arrive soon.” 

Chapter Text

The three kittens are led out to the garden, Konoe the most nervous. All three kittens have been drugged and sedated (from the champagne), a tradition with which Akira and Aoba are very familiar. Konoe doesn’t realize he is probably in better shape because of the champagne, unlike the other two who have experience.

The garden area has been decorated sumptuously. Tables and chairs are scattered throughout the yard, and there are small canopies covering many of the seated areas. White table cloths are used under candle-lit centerpieces and floral arrangements. They are arranged in groups seating between two and four, separated by space and larger floral arrangements, allowing the guests a little privacy.

There is a refreshment area, displaying beautiful food and a full bar—available for the guests and, as it turns out, also to the non-charity students. The social is the event paying students look forward to every six months. They are treated to all the delicious food they can eat, attention from important guests, networking for prospective internships and apprenticeships, and so forth. Plus, even the new students have heard the rumors of a mysterious show that is planned for after the general public has gone home. The social is similar to an open house, and guests are invited to check out the campus as well as the gardens.

When the three charity students are led outside, one thing is made very clear. The three of them are dressed in formal wear, which aside from the fine quality is rather hot for the time of year. The other students aren’t required to dress even in their uniforms. Most of them are dressed in nice casual wear, much cooler. And they are not expected to serve the guests. 

Upon their arrival in the garden, Akira is directed to help with the food, leaving Konoe and Aoba alone for a moment.

Close to the center of the garden, Aoba’s eyes light upon the wood post brought out for the occasion. It’s decorated with white flowers—and even Aoba has to admit it looks quite lovely but it still gives him the chills to see it. This centerpiece is actually a pillory, in which Aoba had to spend some time for disobedience during the last social. That in itself would have been humiliating—but of course, Virus doesn’t settle for humiliation alone, ever. Aoba remembers being stripped bare, exposing his backside to everyone present and being whipped soundly for his insubordination. That’s all Aoba remembers about the infraction: “insubordination.” Aoba probably declined to spend time alone with a guest, or perhaps he was interacting with Akira or Koujaku too much, and Virus was interested in punishing him publicly as part of the entertainment. And so he was.

The thought of seeing their newest addition in the pillory makes Aoba feel ill. The kitten is too small, too fragile, but his ass would probably look really pretty up there. Aoba can't think about it without thinking of his own experience, so he warns the younger kitten.

“Konoe. Do you see that decoration in the middle of the lawn?”  

The kitten looks up as directed, and Aoba notices his scent. Jasmine, honey, orange blossom melt together and sink into his nostrils. It’s warm and very enticing. 

“The flowers are lovely, aren’t they?” When Konoe blinks, Aoba can’t help noticing his long, dark lashes, which is unusual for a blonde. Aoba secretly thinks the long hair suits the kitten really well, too.

“They are, but look closely at the pole. That’s the pillory. Do you see how central it is?” 

Konoe nods, but he looks at Aoba curiously. Does the kitten not know what a pillory is?

“If you disobey today—or displease a guest or the headmaster—you will be restrained and punished there. In front of everyone.”

Konoe's oversized ears flatten against his skull. The tips of his ears look rich and shiny in the sun—nearly as golden as his hair.

“Punished how?” The kitten whispers.

“Well, the top part comes off and you are forced to stick your head in the center and then your wrists are restrained in the same way.” Aoba watches as his words sink into understanding. Konoe is a little slow today—probably from the champagne and being handled so much. He’s a sensitive little thing, which sets him up perfectly for discipline. “Then, depending on your infraction, they may or may not strip you from the waist down. Virus used a whip on me last season, but he might also use a paddle or a birch. You can’t move, and they do it right there while everyone watches.”

“Oh, my gods,” murmurs Konoe. He can’t tear his eyes away from the pillory now, and it’s obvious he is afraid. Then he glances at Aoba, desperation in his eyes. “What do I do? I don’t know how not to displease Virus!”

“First, you need to be sure to mingle with the guests. Smile, let them fondle you, be submissive and obedient. If Virus catches you resisting—well, I’m sure he’s waiting for you to slip up.” 

At that very moment, Verg approaches the two kittens speaking in hushed tones.

“Darling kittens, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be mingling with the guests.” He snaps his fingers, turning on the vibrators he placed deep inside them earlier. Aoba flinches, but Konoe is much more discomfort. He will never be able to obey with that vibrator on, Aoba fears.

“Verg—sir,” Aoba says, his voice soft. “This is Konoe’s first day. He’s only been with us for two weeks. Please.” He looks up at Verg through his plush lashes and pulls his lips into a pout. “I think this is entirely too overwhelming for him. Isn’t there something I might do for you to convince you to take it a little easier on him?”

Konoe’s ears tip forward in surprise when he hears Aoba’s suggestion.

“Hmm. What a tempting offer!” Verg purrs, brushing Aoba’s silky soft fur. Konoe is still trembling from the vibrator, tears sparkling in his eyes. Verg glances at the smaller kitten longingly for a second but then snaps his fingers, turning the vibrators off, and grabs Aoba’s arm. “I think I can work with that. Come.” 

He leads Aoba into the gardens for a moment, leaving the kitten alone—his knees weak and trembling. Akira sees him standing alone and approaches to keep him company and help settle his nerves.

In the meantime, Verg drags Aoba off into the gardens. They enter an area of the woods with dense foliage and cool shade.

“Sir, you know my body has to remain, er, untouched until tonight, but perhaps I might serve you another way,” Aoba suggests softly. Verg has led him into a dark, quiet, isolated corner of the gardens, covered in flowers. Verg takes a seat on a bench.

“I would be amenable to that,” he says neutrally. 

Aoba drops to his knees without hesitation. Even that motion alone—despite being in Verg’s presence, which he despises—arouses him. It’s likely that the vibrator and the drugs have also affected him, but he loses no time. He’s done this many times, and quickly unbuckles Verg’s belt and unbuttons his fly.

The demon is already erect—and quite large—but Aoba isn’t impressed or intimidated. He is doing this as an exchange. He doesn’t want to see the kitten punished this evening. He is afraid that a public, humiliating punishment might break him. That would be the last straw, and Konoe wouldn’t hesitate to escape to a place he thinks would treat him better but most likely would be the same or worse. And if he did try to escape and were caught? Well. The punishment would be too much. At least here, he has a few students looking out for his interests.

Starting slowly at first, the blue-haired kitten licks the demon’s navel and drops his mouth down slowly. Using his hands, Aoba rounds his lips and sucks Verg’s dick into his mouth. Careful to cover his fangs and teeth, Aoba bobs his head up and down almost immediately—his intent to get the demon off as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Use more tongue,” complains Verg. 

Aoba complies—he knows this demon is short on compliments even when he enjoys himself. And it’s obvious as Verg’s dick grows plumper in his mouth and small sounds escape his lips that he is enjoying himself.

Aoba works him over quickly, his hands at the base of his hilt, and it isn’t long before Verg has dug his hands in Aoba’s hair and is thrusting his hips. Aoba manages to stay relaxed, but he always ends up fighting panic when his clients treat him so roughly. In a matter of minutes, Verg’s body twitches and he groans, and come spills down Aoba’s throat. He swallows it—disgusted but appearing eager because of his intent to please—and licks Verg’s dick clean.

Verg loosens the grip on Aoba’s sensitive hair in order to close his pants. 

“That was better than last time. But you need to use more tongue from the start and don’t rush so much. I won’t punish you publicly this time.”  

Aoba bites his lip and tries to suppress tears. A shock is applied directly to the base of his tail, and Aoba squirms in pain and then pleasure—enticing waves of indulgence that flow throughout his body and are made even more intense by the vibrator inside him. 

“This little toy is doing the trick for you, isn’t it? You want it.”

Aoba is in heat so of course, his body wants something. Aoba doesn’t reply.

Verg leans down and nips the soft blue ear, right at the tip.

“I hope you think this was worth it. Now, if your little friend manages to misbehave in a way that causes a scene, you know Virus won’t go easy on him. I can’t do anything to help that.”

“Yes, sir,” Aoba says softly. 

“As long as we understand each other. This afternoon has certainly started out well,” Verg muses. He takes Aoba’s arm and gently leads him back to the guests.  

Konoe: 

Several guests have arrived already. The garden is filled with students and teachers, too. I am watching them, trying not to squirm too much with that annoying vibrator inside me—even when it’s switched off I can feel it and it’s distracting. So I don’t notice when Akira approaches. He whispers in my ear, making me bristle my fur.

“I could take you back into the gardens again. I know you want to go. You smell so nice.”

My ears flatten and I try to step away. 

“I’m sure that isn’t allowed. And I am not risking any public punishment for anything today. Aoba told me what that thing is for.” I nod toward the pillory, still amazed that something that looks so beautiful could be used for such a wicked purpose.

I try to walk away, and Akira grabs my arm. 

“Let go of me,” I say calmly. I cannot afford to be punished today! I want to see Rai, and I want to please him. I want him to be pleased enough that he will take me home. I can’t stay here after tonight. Starting off the afternoon being humiliated isn’t in the cards for me today.

Akira looks at me with urgency in his eyes, as one of the teachers approaches. It’s the fencing instructor with pale skin, black hair and red eyes, dressed in fine clothing today, but still all black. Oh gods, isn’t that Shiki, Akira’s least favorite instructor?

“Don’t say anything to him. Don’t speak a single word. Please,” Akira urges me quietly.

“I hope you aren’t trying to seduce the debutante, are you, dog?” Shiki’s voice is silky and flat and carries little expression. 

He is frightening. Shiki glares at me—his eyes sparkle ferociously like rubies. At first, he looks at my face and then his gaze travels down my form. He is undressing me with his eyes and it feels disgusting. I look down quickly, shy and ashamed. But I keep my mouth shut.

“Ho? Look at that flirty little glance from you—you bat your eyelashes and look away in such a sexy little way, kitten.” Shiki takes off my hat and runs his fingers through the fur of my ears. “So much plusher than you look! What’s your talent, kitten?”

“Don’t touch him,” Akira growls. “Leave him alone.”

“What’s this? Are you defending him? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on this little thing,” Shiki says, mocking Akira openly. I’m afraid for him. I don’t want to see Akira punished, too.

“He’s special,” Akira says, his voice quiet and strangely resigned. 

“Oh? Are you going to entertain me for a while? Distract me from your little friend? Is that your plan?” A predatory smirk stays on Shiki’s lips as he looks between Akira and me.

“Y-yes. J-just leave him be. He’s spoken for anyway.”

“Really?” His eyebrows raise at Akira’s words. “And who, might I ask, has spoken for you, little kitten?”

Akira looks at me a gives his head a brief shake—meaning “don’t speak.” I comply, though I am slightly confused as to why.

“The bounty hunter,” Akira answers for me. “The silver-haired bounty hunter.”

“Prince Rai has spoken for you? Someone like you is his type? How surprising,” Shiki purrs. Akira puts himself in front of me—placing his body between Shiki and me—to prevent him from touching me. 

“I’ll entertain you. Do you want a drink?” Akira says boldly.

“Hmph. No. You know what I want.” 

“Well, you’ll have to bid on me like everyone else today if you want that,” Akira replies, openly disgusted. 

“Well, how about a private stroll in the park?” He feels up Akira’s waist in an overly familiar way, and I see revulsion in the smaller cat’s form. It looks like his body is repulsed by Shiki’s touch, and I am afraid he will cause a scene. He doesn’t respond in the way I expect, however.

“Let’s go,” he says, and he takes Shiki’s arm and pulls him away from me.

“Do you want to kiss your new boyfriend goodbye? He’s pretty cute. Do you want me to bid on both of you tonight? You could both entertain me together,” Shiki is saying as he follows Akira toward the park.

Within a minute or so of watching them disappear, it occurs to me that Akira just distracted the fencing instructor for my sake. Whatever is going to happen to him is my fault. I feel terrible about this.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rest on my shoulder gently. It startles me and makes me bristle my fur, and I barely manage to suppress a hiss. When I turn around, it’s Tokino. He is dressed in cool clothing, ideal for a summer picnic. He’s a sight for sore eyes—I’ve missed him so much! I immediately press my nose into his shoulder affectionately, and he does the same. He spends a little extra time taking in my scent, it feels like, but I am desperate for anything tender or gentle.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says softly. He runs his claws through my hair. “You look really good with your hair long. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m hot,” I say quietly. “I can’t seem to stop sweating and I feel like I might be sick.”

“Are you nervous?” Tokino asks. His facial expression is hard to read.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I’m also afraid that I will displease the headmaster. He has it out for me.”

“Well, you look and smell amazing. I’m sure you will do just fine.” 

“What are you two doing over here?” Trip growls—and I didn’t hear him approach and he frightens me. “Don’t you smell delightful?” He whispers low in my ear. I feel his breath moving the fur deep inside it and it feels disgusting. I tilt my head slightly but remember to act obedient and submissive. 

“Is there something you’d like me to do? How can I help?” I ask, keeping my eyes lowered to the grass. 

“It’s fine to mingle with the other students, but our important guests are starting to arrive. Greet them and be your usual charming self.” Trip looks around briefly. “Where are your cohorts?”

“Um, Aoba is entertaining Verg, and Akira is on a walk with Shiki.”

“A walk? Hmph. I doubt that,” Trip says. “Come on, then. I’ll introduce you.”

The large cat grabs my arm and guides me toward the beverage station. There are several older cats standing there, and I recognize one of the tall cats. It’s Bardo, who owns the inn where I worked when I first arrived.

“Ah, look at you,” Bardo says softly. I can hear him purring gently. “Aren’t you looking well?! It seems you’ve found your true calling, kitten.” 

“Was he unhelpful at the inn?” Trip asks. I flatten my ears and can’t help seeing that pillory on my left, and I become quite worried.

“Not at all—he was very helpful. I was just surprised to get a kitten so new to the school. It was what, his third day here?”

“I’m glad to hear he did what he was supposed to. We were having issues with compliance, but that problem seems to be clearing up after some strict discipline.”

My ears droop, sad and embarrassed, and I look at my feet. 

“Aw, kitten, don’t look like that! I want to see your smile. I’m glad to hear things are going better.” The tiger scratches my ears softly and I allow this touch. I feel almost grateful for it.

Trip introduces me as their latest scholarship student—and I notice a change of vocabulary from “charity” to “scholarship.” But the result of him introducing me this way certainly garners interest among the cats standing there. I speak politely and demurely, taking care not to make too much eye contact. I meet the owner of a bar in Ransen, a cat named Gen who helps out at Bardo’s inn from time to time, and the owner of a hotel. The cat who owns the hotel reminds me of a snake—his eyebrows are plucked into thin lines, and he has the strangest hairdo I have ever seen—long thick curls hang from either side of his face. His eyes don't meet mine; he keeps staring at my waist. He gives me the creeps. 

But I don’t let my feelings show. I am quiet and polite, making soft conversation about the weather, current events, and where I am from. The longer I stand in the group, the more often I feel soft pats on my ass or stroking on my fur—both my ears and my tail. It’s slightly unnerving, but I don’t really have a choice. Trip seems pleased with me. It isn’t long before Aoba joins us, and he looks the same as he did when he left. He nods at me briefly and gives me a quick smile, which I return while I flick my tail in greeting and thanks. Maybe he was just fine—maybe he was able to simply talk to Verg on my behalf. 

Somehow I seriously doubt it, though.

I mingle with the guests as instructed and I serve drinks as well. I take extra care to be polite and keep a fake smile plastered on my face, which is starting to make my cheeks hurt. I’m relieved, actually, when a new group of cats arrives. I recognize my silver cat immediately, and he is dressed to the nines. He has arrived with Koujaku, who is also dressed impeccably. I mean, Rai usually looks good, but today… that military uniform looks really nice on him like it was designed to accent his best features. Those must be his dress blues, I think. And then—I notice one more person in their party. He has pale skin, caramel-colored hair, and he seems oddly… flat and like he doesn’t wish to be here.

It’s then when Akira shows up again, coming to stand by my side after leaving Shiki scowling at the bar. I see the new cat looking up at Akira with something like interest, and his face softens, his long-haired soft ears bristling slightly—they have a lovely spotted pattern and look a little larger proportionally than Rai’s or Koujaku’s. I wonder if he had a different mother, too.

Akira doesn’t seem to make much of an effort to control the expressions on his face. He looks just a little disgusted and bored, alternately—certainly, he is not at all forcing a smile like I am, for sure. But to my surprise, neither Virus nor Trip rebukes him. Maybe he just doesn’t feel like playing along. How and why isn’t he being punished for that? It makes me very nervous. I’d never dare. 

Virus greets the newcomers on the steps down from the house into the yard. He introduces them formally, welcoming them and announcing their arrival. He introduces them as the king and the two princes—and it occurs to me that that brown-haired cat must be the king. It’s astonishing. He is dressed in fine clothing but it seems uncomfortable on him. He isn’t wearing any jewelry, though his clothes look expensive, nor is he traveling with a guard. He slouches a little more than I’d expect, so it makes his clothes look slightly ill-fitting. I can hardly see any resemblance between him and his brothers. 

Rai immediately looks around and meets my eye with a soft smile. I am currently kneeling politely, like the rest of the students. The guests bow their heads or kneel as well, so it’s easy for me to determine what I should do. He makes his way down the steps toward me almost immediately. When his scent floods my nose, my mind goes completely blank. All I can think about is him touching me, and I feel a little guilty about this. This must be an effect of the heat, I assume.

“Good afternoon, kitten,” Rai purrs softly. Even his voice sounds nice. He pulls me up to stand, sending a strong electrical pulse through my body from where he’s touched my shoulder. “You look fetching today.” Then he leans in a little closer and whispers in my ear, “I’ve been eager to see you. You haven’t left my mind since we last met.” The soft touch of his lips on my ear sends small shivers down my back from their charge.

I feel a blush flood my ears, and his fingers brush them softly. They twitch helplessly—the feeling is confusing and surprising, but it reminds me of the pleasant aftereffects of Verg’s ability.

“I’ve been wanting to see you, too,” I whisper, as though in confession. Strange anticipation shivers down my spine.

“Meet my brothers,” Rai suggests, nodding at Akira to tag along. He tugs my arm and brushes Akira’s shoulder—I see Akira flinch slightly but he obeys, thankfully—and I obediently follow despite my nervousness. “Konoe and Akira, this is Nano, Sisa’s king. And I believe you know Koujaku.”

Seeing all three together and up close, I do see a few similarities—high, defined cheekbones and elegant noses. But there are almost as many differences between them as similarities. I bow again, following Akira’s lead, as carefully as I can, when Koujaku touches my shoulder. I feel a slight electric shock when he brushes me. What was that? Why is he shocking me, too? His pupils are slightly dilated as well, making them look darker.

It’s obvious something has happened by my slight movement, and Rai narrows his eye at his brother. Koujaku just smiles at him, then nods politely at both Akira and me. 

“This is the young Sanga you’ve mentioned?” Nano asks, looking at me. His voice is low and deep, purring pleasantly in my ears. Actually, when he speaks, I realize that he is a really nice-looking cat. Also, if he knows about me, that’s a good sign. Rai must have spoken of me. I feel my cheeks flushing slightly. “I look forward to hearing you sing.” Addressing Akira, he asks, “And you? Are you debuting tonight as well?”

“Um, I will be taking part in the evening’s festivities, but my debut was last year,” Akira says. His voice sounds soft and shy—I’ve never heard him sound nervous before. He keeps looking up at Nano through his eyelashes, and I think I spy a slight blush on his face. It’s an entirely different expression than what he had around Shiki.

“You’ll want to keep an eye on Akira,” Koujaku says to Nano. “I think he will catch your eye. His skill is something quite unique.” At this comment, Akira’s blush deepens, and I shift uncomfortably on my feet. 

When Akira starts to talk to the king, he actually offers him a genuine smile, which seems to surprise the king as much as it surprises me. I hear them exchanges a few words in hushed tones, so I can’t understand what they are saying. 

“Where’s Aoba?” Koujaku whispers.

“Ah—he was here a moment ago,” I say. I turn around and see Aoba talking to a few guests by the bar. He looks relaxed and comfortable—despite the fact that he knows is coming tonight. I don’t understand how he can be so comfortable with this situation. Of course, it isn’t a requirement for him to strip naked nor will he be required to ejaculate on stage, either. I find myself surprisingly resentful.

Rai notices my shift in expression and suggests we take a walk. I remember the last time we took a walk—I can’t help it—even the sounds I made echo in my ears, an embarrassed and pleasant sensation resting at the base of my tail—and I agree to go with him. He doesn’t even have to pull me behind him. I go eagerly. But as soon as we disappear from the main group, I start to get nervous. However, Rai doesn’t do anything to me except take my arm, at least not right away. We just continue our stroll through the gardens, enjoying the cool.

“I’m sorry I can’t save you from the performance tonight,” he murmurs softly. My hand is resting in the crook of his arm, and he is resting his hand on top of it. His fingers tickle me a little. That weird shocking sensation seems to have faded, but I feel strangely excited. “Believe me, I did try.” 

I really don’t want to think about it. It’s been at the forefront of my brain for the past few hours now, and I realize I am certainly being treated differently than the other two students. I must have done something to displease Virus to bring this upon me. 

“I’ll say it again. There is nothing you can do tonight that will make me adore you any less. So do what they have told you, for my sake.” He stops walking for a moment and turns to face me. His face looks so attractive to me, and I find myself unable to listen to his words. I just really want to groom his ears. My mouth is filling up with saliva. And damn it, I should have offered him something to drink. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, still staring at his ears. “I should have offered you refreshment.” To my surprise, I can only watch when my own hand (the one not resting on his shoulder) reaches out to comb through the silky fur of his tail. It isn’t till the long white fur is in my hand that I realize what I’ve done. I’m ashamed of my directness and how bold I am—he’s a prince, after all—and I release it immediately. “Oh, my gods, I’m so sorry. I d-didn’t mean to touch you.”

My chin is nudged softly, tipping my face up to his. My heart feels like it might melt—and I realize that Akira and Aoba may have a point. I am extremely attracted to this cat—I have been ever since I first saw him in the parlor. I think my physical attraction has masked any flaws he may have. And still—I'm doing the same. I try to take a deep breath in, getting a lungful of his scent: cool and icy, like freshly fallen snow, mixed with pine. Winter. He reminds me of winter. 

“You are doing perfectly. I’m enchanted.” Rai looks around for a moment. “May I take you back to my special spot?”

“Sure.” I follow and then immediately have second thoughts about where we are going and what Virus will do to me if he catches us here. But I am supposed to obey, right? So how can I obey both Rai and Virus? 

“Are you all right?” Rai asks when we approach the clearing outside the forest. I can hear the stream and the forest whispering in my ears. It sounds even prettier today—like nature is singing a song to herself. 

“Um, yes,” I reply. 

“You seem hesitant—no. That’s not it. You seem frightened. Do I scare you?”

“No,” I say immediately. “I-i’m just trying to figure out if I should obey you or Virus.” 

“You can’t do both?”

“Well, he told me to entertain the guests, be compliant and submissive, obey their wishes… And still, I think he would punish me if he found me here, alone with you.”

“He won’t punish you today,” Rai says confidently.

“B-but the pillory—” 

“Gods, they still have that thing? When I was in school, that was used for all sorts of punishments."

“You didn’t notice it? Decorated with flowers?”

Rai’s ears flatten and he repeats himself, “He won’t punish you today. Come, relax. Sit with me.” 

I get the feeling he doesn’t want me to question him or doubt him. So I comply.

“It’s so nice today,” I say softly. Rai gives me a strange look. 

“You look incredibly uncomfortable,” he comments.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. I just wonder what they are trying to accomplish here. Your successful sale is assured, so why go to these lengths?” 

I notice he used the word “sale” and not “auction” or “bid.” Does he intend to take me with him? I want to ask, but I find I’m unable to find the words. What if he hasn’t decided yet? What if he decides after he spends time with me? I mean—after he fucks me. And oh, my gods. He’s going to fuck me! (The fact that I'm even involved in a sale, or that my body is, doesn't even cross my mind until later. All I can think about is him putting his hands on me.)

Sweat bursts out on my skin, dripping down the nape of my neck, and I feel myself starting to tremble. I can’t tell if this is nervous anxiety or sexual arousal—perhaps it’s both. Rai is sitting close enough to touch me, and he pulls my back close to his chest, nuzzling my nape. His lips and tongue lick the sweat from my neck as though he is tasting me, and he is purring really loud. His purr draws a purr from me as well. I can’t help it, and I’m shivering under his soft caress.

“You smell so good,” he whispers. “Are you still feeling nervous about the performance tonight?” 

That’s right. My foggy brain remembers Rai saying something about me being less reluctant during the mating season. Forget being nervous about being fucked. I'm still scared of the performance!

“Yeah. I’m afraid,” I admit.

“Even knowing I came specifically to hear you sing? And I expect you to sing for me?”

“Is this some kind of test?” I ask suspiciously. I try to turn my head to meet his gaze. 

“I want you to sing—for me—in front of an audience. In a way, yes, I suppose it is an audition of sorts. Ah, now, don’t flatten your ears like that. I know you will find it easy to please me.”

How can he know that? How can he be so sure? 

“Maybe you want to practice?” The words are whispered quietly in my ear, which is nipped and licked. I love the feeling of his tongue. It feels rough and gentle at the same time.

“Mmm,” I hum softly. 

“It might make you more confident,” Rai whispers again. If he keeps whispering like this… I’m probably going to sing whether I want to or not. Why is he the only one who is able to pull my song from me in this way? Sure enough, I get an uncomfortable sensation in my chest. It feels tight and my neck is stiff and sweaty. “Come on. I’ve been so patient. Sing for me.” 

I take another deep breath, inhaling the cool scent of the stream, the fresh summer grass, the green foliage, the flowers, and the scent of the cat behind me. I close my eyes and in an instant, Rai’s face comes to mind. I really adore this silver cat. He’s been so kind to me—I can’t imagine him being any other way. And also… he’s so handsome. And… well, he’s a prince.

There’s a vision in my head—Rai on a white horse, coming to my rescue. I know it’s completely unrealistic but I really can’t help myself. Maybe it’s hormones or pheromones or something but I can’t stop.

The heavy feeling in my chest lifts for a moment and I feel my skin starting to vibrate pleasantly. My teeth rattle a little in my mouth, and somehow the vibrator inside me switches on. Did I do that? I figured it’s magic—so perhaps my song affects it. But while it feels overwhelming and intrusive, it feels awfully good as well. This feels right—right now, right here—it feels right. 

Maybe Rai had a point about me singing publicly when I’m in heat because I certainly don’t have any qualms about it now.

The song spills forth from my body, easily as bright as the moon of light—and its light wraps itself around Rai and me. It’s much louder than I expect, however—taking me by surprise. And there we are—together—wrapped up in the warmth of the melody. And I hear lyrics in my head.

Take me. Make me yours. Please don’t leave me behind! I need you, I want you, I love you.

My ears and face flush hot with embarrassment—because while I do mean every word of those lyrics, the song spilled forth without my intending to sound quite so honest. Luckily, I’m facing away from Rai, my back against his chest, and I hear him sigh softly in my ear. It’s a sexy sound, full of desire and need—and then I feel something else pushing inside my chest. Perhaps these are Rai’s emotions? Because of my song, it’s bonding us? It’s hot and passionate—and laced with a desire to dominate and control. I think he wants to control and dominate me, in fact. And the thought he might desire to do such a thing (and that he might actually do it) isn’t repulsive. In truth, it turns me on incredibly.

That I—a plain, small cat from Karou—might affect a cat like him. A bounty hunter. No—a prince. Not only because of my song—I can feel it in the emotions surging inside my body— but also because of my scent, my soft fur, my small form, my eyes, my ears, and my tail. He finds all these things enticing. (He finds my tail enticing!) So while I am exposing myself, my thoughts and emotions laid bare before him, I can also see his.

That desire to control and dominate me… should that really affect me this way? Why do I find it so excessively arousing? I would let him do anything he wanted, I think. And this desire comes across in my song as well.

He continues kissing my ears and caressing my waist and my tail. He feels so nice! 

However, during my song, my ears twitch at the sound of rustling. Somehow my senses are heightened when I sing. Shit—it has to be Virus coming to check up on me. But it isn’t. I see Akira standing there. He looks incredibly cute—dressed up in his fine suit, a blue tie accenting his eyes, his hair perfectly mussed. 

“Haven’t I given you a task?” Rai growls—and his words and tone surprise me. “What are you doing here?” 

I watch Akira’s tail droop and his ears flatten against his skull. But he maintains his ground, his fists balled at his sides.

“You said you’d take care of him.”

I feel Rai sit up straighter behind me and pull away from me. His voice is slightly louder than it was a moment ago, too, when he next opens his mouth.

“I am taking care of him.”

“No. You’re going to get him in trouble. Virus hasn’t let him sing. He doesn’t let him sing. He’s supposed to be saving it for this evening’s performance.” Akira’s jaw is set firmly—and right now—and only now—do I realize that he may have feelings for me that were not a result of our time with the catnip.

Shit. Does he like me—in that way? He can’t. That’s hopeless for both of us! And why haven’t I noticed until now? I can feel his heartbreak in my own chest—and I’m devastated. He got himself punished for my sake. And it’s my fault. I should never have sung to him in the first place!

I get to my feet as quickly as I can, and my song still spills from my body—to Rai sitting in the grass behind me. I feel him brush the fur of my tail—almost as though he wants to grab it and keep me at his side. But I actually feel it when Rai decides to let me get to my feet. As though he is saying, I need to see for myself.

What is it that I need to see for myself?

“Akira…” I whisper.

He sighs softly and just looks at me—and then back at Rai. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to. I can feel his thoughts, too.

Don’t say my name like that if you don’t mean it that way.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, taking a step toward him.

“Don’t let him touch you, at least not now. And stop singing. Or Virus will come after you.”

“Could you hear me—out there?”

“I could. And it’s only a matter of time before… other guests hear you as well and realize what you are.” He looks over my shoulder at Rai and sharpens his tone. “It’s foolish to let him sing.” 

“He’s under my protection,” Rai says quietly. He isn’t being mean, but he does sound awfully arrogant. I’ve never noticed him use that tone before. Have I just missed it?

“Well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe in your protection. You have your brother to thank for that. He did a hell of a job protecting Aoba, after all.”

Akira throws another glare over my shoulder and then softens his face when he looks at me. 

“Just… be careful. There is attention here you don’t want to attract, Konoe.”

Then he walks back the way he came. My song starts to fade. I’m exhausted.

“You didn’t sing for him,” Rai whispers, pulling me down into the grass and letting me rest my head on his lap. 

“No,” I say quietly.

“Who is he so afraid of?” Rai asks. “It isn’t me.”

“He has a client who treats him poorly. Our fencing instructor. He has warned me about him.”

“Wait—the school’s fencing instructor is a client?” 

“Well, yes. Koujaku is as well.” A short pause follows my words.

“Who is this person?”

“Um, I only met him in person today. His name is Shiki.”

The fingers stroking my hair and pushing it away from my forehead suddenly freeze.

“Shiki?” Rai asks. There is something strange in his voice that makes me open my eyes. I am frightened by his tone. It's cold—ice cold. “What does he look like?”

“He is pale with black hair and red eyes. Tall, like you.”

“You met him today? Did you speak to him?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to him. Akira told me not to say anything to him.” The idea that I might have done something to displease Rai makes me very, very nervous. I know what is in store for me if I stay here—and what will happen to me if Rai changes his mind about me. But I can’t bear to think about it. 

“Good kitten. Don’t let him hear your voice.”

“Do you know him?” I ask, in a whisper.

Rai continues running his fingers through my hair and fur. It’s doing nothing to calm down the heat raging inside me. I wish he’d kiss me—like he did the last time he visited. It’s appalling to think and feel this way—we’re outside, for goodness’ sake! But I can’t really help it. Feeling his hair brush my cheeks every now and then—strands that have come loose from his ponytail—I can’t help remember how they felt against my bare skin. It isn’t exactly soothing but it makes me feel good. Thank the gods the vibrator stopped when my song faded.

“We’ve met,” Rai says. “Why don’t you sleep for a bit? Rest up a little? Close your eyes, kitten.”

I can hardly disobey. Especially knowing that he’s asking me to do this. I trust him when he says Virus won’t punish me. He’s the prince after all. I am under his protection. So I close my eyes and let my mind wander, enjoying his scent and the touch of his fingers. 

Chapter Text

After a nice rest, Rai leads me back to the group. Virus is eying me carefully, making sure I behave myself. I try to ignore him as much as possible. I really don’t want to start anything.

The band has set up inside—in the ballroom—and Rai suggests checking out my latest skillset. The ballroom is a large, open space with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a mirror covering the inside wall, and glass windows that open out to the gardens. Also, you can get to the gardens (and the bar) this way, since there are several doors that open to the outside.

The evening breeze is nice—and the music floats into my ears hypnotically. Rai pulls me onto the dance floor and starts dancing with me. He is looking at me—watching me closely—whereas I still have to pay attention to what my feet are doing. His scent is incredibly distracting.

“Relax,” he whispers, making the fur inside my ear ruffle. When I do manage to relax, it really helps—I just follow his movement. He’s even easier to dance with than Koujaku was, I think. When I relax, my body does what it’s supposed to. “My brother was right about you.”

I look up, curling my tail in question, and he strokes it softly. Even that soft touch sends a shiver through my body.

“He said you were unusually good at following his lead.”

My ears heat up—but I’m not really embarrassed. I’m proud of myself. I don’t have Rai on his knees before me, as Virus suggested I would. But I am sure he is pleased with me. 

We take several breaks for champagne, and Virus interrupts.

“Your Grace, I’m sorry to ask, but would you permit a few others to dance with Konoe?”

Rai looks displeased, but he allows it. I take a turn on the dance floor with Bardo, Verg, Koujaku (who has been paying Aoba extra attention), and several instructors. However, when Shiki approaches me, Rai interrupts.

“I have the next dance on his card.” His voice is soft but firm. Shiki bristles his fur when he sees Rai. That’s right—Rai said he knew him, but it doesn’t look like they are friendly.

“How’s that eye?” Shiki asks.

Rai doesn’t answer at first, only glaring harshly at Shiki. But then he opens his mouth. 

“I heard you’ve given up your sword in order to teach at this institution. Are you feeling the years? Bounty hunting isn’t for everyone, after all. Those who can’t do, teach.” He’s smirking slightly, and I’m a little surprised to hear him speak to Shiki this way. I am careful to keep my mouth closed, however. 

Shiki growls and declines to answer, stalking off—probably to find Akira, who is currently on the dance floor with Nano—the king. My gods! That would be a perfect match for him. There’s something hypnotic in the king’s movements—he glides across the floor effortlessly.

The hours fly by, and soon, Verg comes to collect Aoba, Akira, and me, presumably for our wardrobe change. I get a sick feeling in my stomach when I see Verg approaching, and I cast a desperate look at Rai.

“It will be fine. You will surely please me,” he says, caressing the base of my ears. “Go on.”

Verg leads the three of us back upstairs to the bathing chamber for a change. He has us rinse off quickly in the shower, which is nice and refreshing. He starts with Akira. He is dressed in skintight, black leather pants, for which Verg needs to apply powder to his legs in order to squeeze into them. They hug his every curve. He is wearing no shirt—but he has some sort of leather and metal harness that makes up for the shirt, I suppose. His skin gleams with a fine silver shimmer. His look is completed with heavy black boots and a hat. He looks totally different and slightly frightening, I think. 

When Aoba starts to get dressed, Akira whispers to me, “Just remember what I told you. Do what I tell you and I won’t hurt you.”

Aoba’s outfit is exotic looking. His skin is covered with a semi-transparent gold lotion, and he has a short chiffon blouse that exposes his belly. His harem pants are sheer, too, so you can see his skimpy gold underwear underneath—and he is completely decorated with coins and bells, so he jingles when he moves. He has sandals on his feet and a silk scarf wrapped around his shoulders. He also seems to have been turned into some other creature, and I can’t help gaping.

Then, it’s my turn. I’d been waiting in a towel, and Verg strips it from me—covering my skin with lotion with an opalescent shimmer. Then, he has me slip on a pair of underwear, the likes of which I have never seen. These have a little coverage in the front and a thong in the back—and they are extremely revealing. They are a metallic lamé, color-shifting like the shimmer on my skin. 

Leaving me in my underwear, Verg has me lie down on the padded bench, and he starts getting to work on me. I’m not exactly sure what he is doing, but I feel something sticky applied to my lower back, my left butt cheek, and my left thigh. Also, across my mid and upper back to my right shoulder and upper arm—the same sticky sensation. Whatever he is doing, he is concentrating. 

It isn’t till he nudges me to carefully turn over that I see what it is. He is applying sparkling stones in various sizes across my body. He adds a spray of them to my chest, my neck, my face, my stomach, and even the space below my navel. It makes me sparkle.

“These will be very pretty when you sing, I think,” Verg says. “Virus told me that your body glows when you sing. You will catch every eye on the stage.”

Being covered in sparkling stones like this—well, they are stuck to my skin pretty firmly as soon as that glue dries. It’s uncomfortable to sit now since the stones are pokey against my butt and thigh. I can sort of lean to one side as Verg finishes up my face. I feel him putting a gloss on my lips and brushing some sort of color on my eyelashes. He does something to my hair, too—and I can see the now long strands have shimmer and glitter in them. 

He asks me to shake my head quickly—and glitter sprays everywhere. He has me stand up and do it again until no more loose glitter comes off of me.

I am afraid I am going to have to be exposed in these tiny underpants, but I am given a pretty two-layer silk kimono, which is folded and wrapped up around my body, tied tight with a wide obi. The underlayer is a soft, silvery-white, and just the collar shows. The outer layer is a pattern of gold, silver, pastel blue, purple, green, yellow, and pink. It’s the most luxurious thing I’ve ever worn. He adds a pair of tabi socks and then finishes the look with a pair of platform geta. It takes me a minute to walk in the geta without wobbling—he has me practice a little, putting one foot in front of the other taking small steps in a straight line. Instead of my entire body wobbling, just my hips sway.

He shows us off in the full-length mirrors—each of us is changed. I don’t recognize myself. In fact, I think if I saw me on the street, I would turn my head to look.

“Fit for a prince, kitten,” Verg murmurs. Of course, he shocks me at the base of my tail, making my fur bristle, before we head back downstairs for the auction.  

There is a stage set up in the auditorium, Virus explains as we wait in a small room behind the stage. I’m already incredibly nervous, my body sweating slightly, my ears perked up and listening to the strange sounds of a large crowd in the next room. He explains that my only job is to obey and submit to both Akira and Aoba. But I am still incredibly nervous.

“Akira will tell you when to sing, kitten. You have nothing to worry about—as long as you obey. If you choose to disobey tonight, well, your public punishment will only add to your value, I’m sure. You look lovely.”

With those words, Virus heads out of the small reception room and we follow with Verg in tow. 

When Virus heads out to the stage, I peek out behind the curtain. My stomach drops to my feet, sending a wave of nausea through my body. The auditorium is full—every seat is taken. There must be 100 people in there. I can only hear a soft thrumming in my ears and I’m so scared I think I might be sick. What would happen to me if I threw up on stage?!

Verg seems to notice my discomfort—he’s making last-minute adjustments to our costumes. Helpfully, he leans over to me and says, “Relax. Let me help.”

His idea of "help" is sending another shock or two through my body. It does distract me from how nervous I am, but still—it doesn’t fix anything. I flatten my ears and look down, concentrating on my feet. Now I’m worried that my raging erection will be visible to the entire audience.

I take deep breaths, trying to keep myself calm. But the fear just keeps rising.

“Oy,” Verg snaps, making me look up at him. “I told you to relax. Do it.”

My ears flatten at his words. I’m trying my best—but before I can open my mouth to make my excuse, he sends another shock through my body.

“You want him to be able to obey, don’t you?” Akira growls, stepping between Verg and me. I’m shaking now—my knees are about to buckle. My nose and the tips of my ears and chin are numb, and my fingertips are tingling along with my tail. I feel like I can’t get enough air in my lungs and I start to hyperventilate.

“Don’t panic!” Aoba responds to my nerves now. “You’re going to be fine! Keep in mind—your cat is out there, waiting eagerly for you. I’m sure you’ll please him.” Then he lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “I know he’s waiting for you. He will take good care of you.”

Akira brushes his fingers through the fur on my ears, and my hair as well.

“You really do look pretty—like some sort of magical creature,” he sighs softly. And to my surprise, he kisses my lips.

“Get away from him!” Verg hisses. He pulls Akira away. “Don’t get ahead of yourself! That’s not your place!”

Akira stumbles away from me, and Verg puts himself between us again.

Soon, Akira goes out on stage—greeted by appreciative murmurs. I can hear Virus droning on and on, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. It’s almost like he’s speaking a language I don’t understand, and I become very worried. What if he asks me to do something and I can’t understand?

Shortly after Akira goes out on stage, Verg whispers, “Keep your pretty face up, kitten,” and pushes me out from behind the curtain. Weirdly, there are spotlights shining on the stage so I can’t see the guests in the audience once I'm there. That helps a little, except that I can still hear everyone shifting around in their seats. Also, I don’t miss the murmurs, even over Virus’ voice. 

There is soft sexy music in the background, and that helps me keep my pace when I walk. It helps to concentrate on the music, I think—and ignore everything else that is about to happen. This feels like a dream—and it’s that quality that keeps me from total panic.  

I’m standing on stage facing Akira when he starts his routine. He snaps his whip in my direction—and he barely misses me. I flinch, meeting his gaze immediately.

“Konoe. Face the audience.”

My nerves have me so distracted that I miss Akira’s command. I hear the words—but I don’t understand them. My feet are frozen in place and I can’t seem to obey. I hear Virus saying something about my lack of response, and then Akira hisses at me.

“Konoe! Listen. I don’t want to hurt you—but if I don’t, it’s going to be much worse for you!” 

My ears twitch to his threat and I really do try to obey—but I can’t! Tears surface in my eyes and I’m completely overwhelmed with what I’m about to do. I know what is coming and I don’t think I can do this.  At least—

Snap!

A sharp, narrow stripe of pain shoots across the back of my thighs—and it opens my eyes wide and a short meow escapes my mouth in a pitiful yelp. It hurts! That hurt! He hurt me! My heart aches, and the tears blurring my vision slip down my cheeks. I meet his gaze and he repeats the command.

“Face the audience.”

Finally, I understand. I turn my body compliantly to face the audience. I’m sure I’m about to throw up, and I happen to glance at Trip, who is glaring daggers at me, tapping the hairbrush in his hand from the side of the stage just behind the curtain. I swallow thickly and pull myself together. 

He cracks the whip a second time, and that gets my attention. The tip of the whip connects right at the base of my tail—not touching skin but grabbing a tiny bit of fur and ripping it out by the root. It’s startlingly painful and makes me yelp again, and I turn my face toward him. I obeyed—so why did he use the whip again?

“Slip out of your footwear, kitten.”

I obey, easily slipping the tall shoes off my feet but struggling to slip off my socks, since it’s hard to bend down in the kimono.

“Now, slowly, remove your kimono. Make it pretty.” 

The whip cracks through the air again, missing me this time, and my fur bristles. My ears heat up, my cheeks flush, and taking a deep breath, I untie the sash around my waist. It slips to the floor at my feet in a puddle, and the outer kimono comes undone and falls open. The weight of the fabric makes it slip off my shoulders onto the floor. I keep my face lowered to remove the silver layer, but my hands are shaking so badly that I can’t untie the smaller obijime that holds it together.

“Go on,” Akira encourages me. I’m scared he’s going to whip me again.

A couple of tears slip down my cheeks, and I draw my short, blunt claws and get the second layer untied. Static white noise fills my ears, and I don’t undress any further, once the inner layer puddles at my feet. Please, don't make me strip down to nothing. I can’t hear anything in the audience—not even Virus—because my pulse is beating so loud.

“Good boy,” Akira says. He approaches me, and I flinch when he reaches out his hand. But he strokes my ears, turns me to face him on stage, and says, “Kneel.”

I obey as he requests, now on my knees wearing only the practically non-existent underwear and glitter. If I looked over my right shoulder, I’m sure I could see the audience in the front row. If I looked. But I’m not going to look. I’m going to pretend that it’s just him and me for now, and I concentrate my gaze on his boots.

My ears twitch when I hear a slight clink of a buckle—and I realize he has collared me.

“Give me your wrists,” he commands.

I hold up my arms obediently, meeting his gaze for a moment. For just a split second, that icy mask softens in apology. It makes me feel a little better but it doesn’t change anything. He straps on two wrist cuffs, also black leather—and they stand out obviously against my pale glittering skin.

Then, he runs his claws through my hair, and it feels so weird touching my mid-back. And then I hear another small clinking sound—and I notice he has attached a chain to my collar. I feel a gentle tug to the collar on my neck and I ready myself for his next command. 

“Thank me.”

What? My tail flicks. I really don’t understand. I look up at his face from my spot on the floor, my confusion obvious. He mouths something I don’t understand and tips his chin toward the floor. Oh! I can bow, I guess?

Murmuring quietly, I thank him. It sounds like a small plea, and another meow slips out. I notice when I look back up at him—after he pulls the chain again—that his ears are twitching and his tail is lashing. 

“Come.” He gives the next command and pulls me up to stand.

I obey without hesitation, trying not to see all the glitter under the lights. He leads me around the stage for a moment or two—I hate to think of what he is actually doing, but I think it’s a sort of model walk, meant to show off my “assets.” To my horror, however, Akira leads me to the front of the stage where I see steps leading down into the audience. The spotlight follows us as I have no choice but to follow him, illuminating my skin—and his, too. We walk slowly among the crowd—Akira using a weird strut I’ve never seen him use before. I try to keep my eyes low, but I have to watch his boots or I won’t see where I am going.

“Raise your face.” I do as he requests and keep my gaze on his head as we walk. The stage lighting is much more intense than the single spotlight following us, and I can now see all the cats staring at us—at me—from the audience. I’m walking among chairs and tables, following Akira like a snake—and hands reach out to touch me. I can't do anything to defend myself without risking further punishment.

Every touch makes my skin crawl—I hate the feeling of my personal space being invaded—and it’s horrible to think about the sweaty fingers caressing my ass, my thighs, my tail, my chest, my back, my shoulders, my ears. I want out of here right now.

Tears continue to fall—faster now—and I am truly ashamed. It doesn’t matter how much Verg shocked me or how aroused I am from the heat. I hate this feeling! I don’t want to do this—not for anything…

And that’s when the clean, fresh scent of winter hits my nostrils. It’s so powerful—ringing like a gong in the middle of the night—and it stands out almost alone in a sea of sweat and cologne. It smells so comforting—and tempting—a promise to cool off my hot skin. I want it. I can’t help it. Even despite my shame and embarrassment, I have to look toward that smell. 

Then, my ears hear a low, rumbling purr. I recognize it, too, and it immediately makes my own purr respond. I want that sound closer to me. Almost automatically, my feet move toward it—and thank the gods that Akira is leading me there. I can’t help myself—when I see Rai’s long silver mane under the soft glow of candles and then the spotlight. I have to touch him.

“Please,” I whisper. It’s a strangled sound like my voice is hoarse. 

His hands reach out to me, stroking my ears tenderly, and I want to fall into his arms, but I can’t because of the collar. A frightening thought races through my mind: What if this feeling—this trapped, stifled feeling of not being able to be with the one I love—what if this is an omen? A foretelling of my abysmal future at Applebaum’s Finishing School. Finishing school, my ass! This place is a personal hell designed for torturing me! 

“You are gorgeous.” A quiet voice murmurs close to me, and it soothes me. Just for a second, it soothes me. It’s enough, I think. 

For his sake—for the silver bounty hunter’s sake—for the prince’s sake—I will do this. I will do my best and avoid punishment. 

Akira keeps walking, leading me through the rest of the room—and I walk obediently behind him, but my body starts to get even hotter and more anxious the further I get from Rai. He’s like a magnet is pulling me toward him, and I keep looking back over my shoulder, trying to find him and meet his gaze.

As soon as we reach the stage, however, I can no longer see him, since the lights are blinding.

“Kneel.”

My ears and tail twitch, hearing a new command. I lower myself to my knees quietly and quickly, keeping my head down.

“Crawl to me,” he commands.

Oh, my gods. Why? Hasn’t this been humiliation enough? 

I don’t obey at first—I’m too self-conscious to crawl on stage while in my underwear—but I do the moment that whip connects with my ass. This time, it’s a hard, direct snap against bare skin—and I meow quietly, tears bursting from my eyes. When I reach him on the stage, he praises me again and wipes the tears from my cheeks.

“Good boy.” He gives the leash a little yank, encouraging me to stand up, and kisses my cheek. 

I feel incredibly vulnerable and embarrassed, my ears drooping and pressed back against my head, my tail bristled. And I suddenly realize I’m going to have to sing next. I am shaking by the time he pushes me back to my knees and then he takes a little bow.

“Go ahead and sing, kitten.”

I don’t know what to do. I look out in the audience for a moment—and I can’t see anything at first. I try to find my silver cat out there, and I don’t see him!

Again, the whip cracks through the air, connecting with my lower back. I see a little burst of glitter floating through the stage when it hits my skin, and I yelp in pain.

“I am trying,” I hiss urgently. I deliberately keep looking out into the audience, searching desperately for the person I want to sing for and ignoring Trip and Verg waving their hands at me.

The soft sound of a chair slightly scraping across the floor breaks the silence—and my eyes dart in that direction. I think I see Rai sitting in that chair—the one that just moved. I can’t make out his expression, but I see his pale, long hair. 

But that’s all I need to start my song.

I focus all my energy, all my feelings, all my fear, all my desire, all my needs into the song and direct it toward Rai. My chest feels like it might explode—but more than anything, I want him to get me out of here. I cannot wake up here in the morning. I need to go with him.

Please… save me. Take me with you.

My song finally bursts from my body in a loud, desperate cadence—it shivers slightly, the melody trembles along with the surface of my skin and all the hair on my body. 

I need you. I want you. Please don’t leave me here.

A tremendous sense of relief floods my chest the moment that soft, warm glow envelopes me. It feels so good—though I’m still embarrassed and afraid—it feels good.

I’m so scared—but I want to do my best for you. Please—be patient with me.

Of course, that thing buried in my ass starts to vibrate suddenly—I don’t know if it’s Verg or from my song, and the sensation makes my voice tremble even more.

“You are beautiful.” The phrase suddenly echoes in my head—and it’s Rai’s voice. “You are enchanting. Just relax.”

Is this enough? Please—I’m new but I will try. I will do anything—

“You are perfect.” It’s as if he is on stage with me, whispering in my ear. I can almost feel the fluff inside my ears move—but these must be his thoughts because I see him out in the audience. He’s easy to see now that the slim tendrils of my song have spread toward him and wrap up his body like silk threads. My song is making him glow. He looks pleased. And eager.

Is that for me? Do you want… me?

He nods his head just once, and I sing my heart out—letting the rest of the world fade away. I collapse onto the floor exhausted when I finish.

Aoba is out on stage with me now, and his presence startles me. I hadn’t even noticed Akira leave or hand off my leash. He whispers, “That was great. Just a little more…”

I am paralyzed but for my tail and ears, folded up on the floor in a small ball. Aoba grabs my tail—gently caressing the fur, stroking me softly—and that damned vibrator is going on still. I feel incredibly overwhelmed by the touch—and Aoba’s scent—and I hear a soft growl from the side of the stage from Akira. He is watching, too.

Actually, the entire room is watching me get off—right here on stage—and my song comes out again in a quick, desperate burst of melody, almost like a shield. Aoba puts the tip of my tail between his lips, nipping me gently and gives my ass a swift pat. More glitter shimmers through the air when he does, and it’s even more prominent because of the light spilling from my body.

It doesn’t even take a full five minutes before I am gasping and ready to come. While part of my brain can’t believe I am doing this—here—in front of everyone—I know the silver cat is in the audience. For his sake… I will do this. In fact, knowing that he is watching me (and I can hear his whispering voice echo inside my heart) is enough to make me finish.

“My gods—from your tail alone? How much more perfect could you be, little Sanga?" 

That soft whisper is the last thing I require—the only reason I haven’t tried to escape this week. And my come spills out onto my lap, my thighs, my stomach, the stage—my orgasm strangely extended by the song and that damned vibrator.

I’m exhausted—I was already exhausted even before the public sex show—and I just lie here. Akira comes back on stage and lifts me—and my clothes—up in his arms, and he carries me off stage. He leaves Aoba on stage to do his own performance—which I realize I don’t think I’ve seen.

“You did perfectly,” he says, and he takes hold of my chin and kisses my lips. Verg is standing right there, and he grabs Akira by the ear, making him yelp.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop right there,” Verg says. “This one is mine now.”

His? What the hell does he mean? I panic—I don’t want Verg to touch me but I can’t move or protest and he carries me into the small pre-stage area (Virus called it the green room, I guess) and sets me down on the couch. He doesn’t bother getting me dressed, but he gives me two hard shocks—which are painful and arousing—even right after what I just did on stage!

“The nice thing about being in season is that you can go again—right away. And I’m sure you will appreciate this.”

“P-please—t-turn that thing off!”

Verg does—thankfully—and the vibrator stops. But he shocks me another two times. I feel blood pooling painfully in my hips.

“Please! Can I take it out?”

“I don’t think so.” He is wiping me up, touching up the glitter on my skin. Then he steps out, leaving me in my glitter, underwear, and collar.

In a few minutes, Aoba comes back into the green room—he’s finished his performance, and he asks if I’m okay.

I nod slowly, and everything sounds weird like my blood is pulsing too loud and it makes everything sound like static.

“Ah, Verg got to you?”

I nod again, and I am having trouble speaking.

“Can you walk?”

I shake my head.

Verg comes back in and picks me up.

“Your last little bit, now. Behave yourself.” As though I had a choice to do anything else!

He carries me back out on stage. I can’t move, so I am displayed just as he likes in his arms, and he shocks me—again—on stage in front of the audience. I can’t suppress a small sigh—a vulgar sigh—in response. Tears of shame drip down my cheeks. I think both Akira and Aoba are on stage with me as well, but I can’t turn my head to be sure. 

Then, he carries me off stage while Virus continues his endless prattle. I can’t understand what he is saying. I just want my silver bounty hunter. I want him to get me out of here. In fact, that is all I want—all I can ever remember wanting in my entire life.

Verg carries me into a bedroom—one of the guest rooms—and it has been especially sumptuously prepared. The linens are deep purple and cream, the fireplace is lit—and every time it crackles and pops I flinch. I hate fire. I’m laid out on the bed, and Verg turns me to my side.

“So you’re defenseless now, aren’t you? At least you’ll be nice and relaxed when your ‘prince’ comes for you.” He curls my arm up under my head, as though he is posing a doll. “I wish I could have afforded you tonight. But I’ll wait my turn like everyone else... assuming you make it through the night in one piece. He paid enough for your life, I’d say.”

His scent, touch, and words are making me ill. But I don’t speak. In fact, I close my eyes—and he still shocks me another two times before he leaves, turning the vibrator back on. I can’t move—I can’t shift around—and my ears and tail twitch frantically. I am heavily aroused—painfully so—and I am feeling so utterly desperate I don’t know what to do. If I could move, I would certainly touch myself. 

A shivering sigh escapes my lips, and I wait. The window is open, so a cool evening breeze comes in. It feels nice against my sweating skin. I see a carafe of wine on the table, and what looks like a small plate of bread and cheese.

I can’t tell how much time passes, but I start to worry that something has gone wrong. I try to rest, but I’m too worked up to sleep. The evening still feels like a dream. I wonder—briefly—about everyone who saw me perform. Was there anyone who knew me from before? What if Tokino’s father saw me? What would I do?

All I can do is wait. And I’m not very patient.

As I lie in bed, my mind starts to wander, and I realize that I really, really want Rai to touch me. And not just touch. I want him to fuck me till I don’t know which way is up. My heart is pounding, my dick is throbbing, I can’t seem to control my saliva. But I do know I want that silver cat.

Chapter Text

After the auction, there is a small disagreement between a few of the guests in attendance.

“I’m sorry, but the prince has won the debut’s auction fair and square. You’ll just have to wait until he has recovered and is available. You’re welcome to spend some time with him then,” Virus explains, trying to calm the complaining cat. “You know we are willing to exchange part of your salary to spend with the charity students. You’ve done as much with Akira.”

“That’s just it!” Shiki rages. “What the hell is going on?! That little silver-haired kitten is mine! And you’ve just given him to the king?!”

“We didn’t give him to anyone, Shiki,” Trip intercedes. “The king won the auction fair and square, just like his brothers did. And he paid a pretty penny.” 

“This was a set-up from the beginning! You’re doing this to humiliate me! And my gods, you’ve had a Sanga—a genuine, young, unbonded Sanga—right here in this school and you failed to mention it to me?! Knowing me to be the great swordsman and Touga I am? What the fuck?!”

“Shiki, calm yourself. You were permitted to bid on him the same as anyone else,” Virus says.

“But he was here this entire time—and you’re selling off his virginity to that crazy asshole?! Don’t you know what you’ve just done?!”

“We’ve made a great deal of money—more than this school has ever seen in a single night,” Virus replies neutrally, pushing his glasses up on his nose.  

“You cheated me! Out of my own charity student and that new one! You’ve been deliberately hiding that kitten from me!” 

“We did not cheat and Konoe has been here for the past two weeks. Of course we kept him segregated—for the sake of chastity. You know just as well as anyone how auctions work,” Trip says. “You could have outbid either the king or the prince and you chose not to.”

“I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Is there a problem?” It’s the silver-haired prince, looking rather smug. He looks down his nose at Shiki and smirks. “Or sour grapes for not having won one of the prizes this evening?”

“Fuck you,” the red-eyed cat growls in reply. “I know you set me up to fail. I know you set up the king with my kitten, you fucking bastard.” 

Rai growls low in his throat. 

“You probably don’t want to get into it with me right now. This is a public setting. You’ll risk your precious job, reputation, and your life,” Rai says, his voice low. “I have always outmatched you. Can you imagine what it might feel like to fight me with that little kitten at my side?” 

“You set up Akira with the king, didn’t you?” Shiki shouts accusingly.

Rai is watching the fencing instructor's hands carefully—the moment Shiki draws his katana, Rai will draw both of his weapons without hesitation. Rai is a stronger fighter since he is still actively hunting, but Shiki is no slouch and has a very quick draw. Both Tougas are ready for a brawl, and Virus is thinking that for the future, he will collect the auction attendees’ weapons at the door.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to do something stupid. I never thought it would be this. What’s your problem? It’s a fucking auction. Let your king have a little fun for the evening. It will serve him and the kingdom and help relieve his stress. That little silver-haired kitten is just his type!”

Shiki bristles his fur, drawing his claws and baring fangs. The slim, brown cat others recognize as the king joins the group. His approach is nearly silent and Shiki doesn’t notice.

“You don’t know his type! That act—on stage—that’s all it was. An act!” Shiki is yelling now, fur bristled, and Rai is responding with a growl and bristled fur, claws drawn, and fangs bared. 

“Brother, you’re not causing a disturbance, are you?” The king’s voice is soft and low and though he is addressing Rai, it makes the hair on Shiki’s neck stand up. Shiki’s pupils dilate fully, black edging out the blood red of his irises. Of course, the silver-haired bounty hunter is dangerous—Shiki is well aware of his prowess from previous personal experience. But the king has an entirely different effect on him. Shiki wouldn’t admit it, but he’s terrified of the king.

“Of course not, Nano. And congratulations. I’m glad you came tonight.” Rai’s voice is perfectly calm.

“You’ve truly honored us with your presence, Your Highness,” Virus says, bowing his head and nudging Trip, encouraging him to do the same. 

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy your evening with Akira,” Trip adds. “He has quite a unique skill set.” 

The king nods his head once, noticing Shiki bristling with anger with what would probably look like indifference to most bystanders. Rai can’t help notice the smallest hint of a smile on his half-brother’s lips, making the corners of his mouth quirk up just a little. Rai gets a satisfying sense of schadenfreude from Shiki’s frustrated reaction, too. The silver-haired kitten did well in keeping the little Sanga hidden from the rest of the staff and students. He deserves a treat this evening.

“Well, let’s not waste any time, Your Highness, Your Grace. Shall we show you to your rooms?” Virus says. In a lower voice, he hisses, “Shiki, you will remove yourself from the premises if you want to keep your job.”

Koujaku joins the group at that moment.

“Are you starting shit again?” He teases his younger brother. “Come on. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Don’t rub it in if you don’t have to. But wow. I can see what you mean about the kitten’s voice. I had a feeling, too—but just you wait. He’s awfully… submissive.”

Rai growls at Koujaku.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. He’s compliant and biddable. Not to mention—”

“I don’t want to hear your opinion! What the fuck would you know about it, anyway?” Rai bristles, and he’s irritated again at Koujaku’s unique ability to push his buttons. He needs to calm down.

“I’m just saying, in my experience teaching him to dance. He’s a natural. I wonder if it’s because his song emanates from his body instead of an instrument or his mouth. I wonder what else will come naturally.”

“Shut up,” Rai hisses.

Nano simply watches his two brothers bicker back and forth and as usual, he doesn’t interfere. He has always been confused as to why his youngest brother lets himself be so easily goaded by his next youngest brother. It’s baffling. 

“You too, Your Grace. You honor us with your bid for Aoba. I know he will serve you eagerly,” Virus says, bowing his head to Koujaku. 

“May I show you to your rooms?” Trip asks, and he jerks his chin at Shiki, trying to get him away from the conversation. Shiki stalks off, heading out to the garden. 

Aoba and Akira have headed to the rooms provided for the rest of the evening’s entertainment.

Aoba is relaxing in the cream-colored room, wondering what the evening has in store for him. He is feeling quite pleased with himself. He got a lot of attention from Koujaku, and his heart is still fluttering from it all. He was almost certain Koujaku was planning to attend for Konoe’s sake, but Aoba stayed in the green room till the end, listening to all the auctions to discover the winners and was pleasantly surprised. 

He’s still amazed as to how much money exchanges hands—even to spend the night with him or Akira who already have some experience. And that his prince would spend that sort of money on him—when he isn’t the inexperienced, innocent kitten he used to be—well. It gives him hope. 

During the bidding itself, Aoba noticed Virus’ words in describing the bidding. He called it a “charity auction,” designating the bids as donations to the school. He also suggested donations outside of the auction were always welcomed and that the school relies heavily on these to help "support the charity students' education." It felt insulting and dishonest, actually—since it’s really an exchange of money for services. Ridiculous!

He wasn’t surprised that Prince Rai won the kitten’s auction. But he was surprised at how many cats were bidding on him, including Shiki, the fencing instructor who has a thing for Akira, much to the silver kitten’s chagrin. Perhaps it was because there was a roomful of Tougas that the young Sanga made such an impression. Though he’s certain that couldn’t have been all of it. Konoe certainly looked delicious (and mortified), especially after his little performance on stage. Even Aoba felt attracted to the kitten’s sweet scent, too—like honey and jasmine, perhaps, sweet and sticky. Surely, Verg did the kitten a favor with his specialized (and repeated) shock treatment. 

While alone in the room, Aoba slips off his sandals and removes some of the more bulky jewelry. He hasn’t been intimate with Koujaku for some time, and he enjoyed the last time they spent together so much. Aoba is looking forward to seeing him again and showing him what he has learned and demonstrating his confidence. Plus, he will get to see the hot dance instructor naked.

He couldn’t help noticing that today, Akira managed to capture the king's attention. Aoba is hopeful about this, too. The previous ruler wouldn’t have been caught dead at a place like this. He called Koujaku's affiliation with the school "unseemly." Could it be that Sisa’s current ruler might not think so poorly of a prince and a charity student ending up together? Sure, he doesn’t have the same magical skills that Konoe displayed so enchantingly. But he is a great dancer, and he’s not entirely useless. In fact, Aoba would bet that his skills in the bedroom are much greater than the kitten’s, at least at this point—who has very little control or experience. Plus, Aoba is confident he has the organizational skills to run a royal household—not that he's thinking that far ahead.

Aoba is considering a bath to wash off some of the glitter on his skin when there’s a knock at the door. He fixes his hair and takes a seat on the loveseat in front of the fire.

“Come in,” he says in his sweetest voice.

Of course, it is Koujaku. Only Koujaku would knock so politely. He has always treated him respectfully—even his first time, he treated him like an independent cat with real feelings and not the slave he is. Aoba doesn’t bother to get up when Koujaku enters, and after checking him out while he stands in the doorway, he turns his face to the fire. 

“Hmph. What are you doing here?” Aoba asks, a little pout arranged carefully on his face. He’s still pissed off that Koujaku didn’t run away with him last year after his own debut. But he is certainly pleased to see him again. There’s isn’t anything to dislike about this cat—as a cat or a prince or a client. Koujaku is certainly his favorite. However, there’s no way he is going to let him get away with ignoring him for so long without some sort of consequence.

While thinking such things, a nervous shudder tickles the base of his neck. The kitten—Konoe—he is going to be spending his first night with the silver-haired prince, the bounty hunter. From the rumors, that cat is nothing like Aoba’s prince, who is gentle and kind. At least, not by reputation. He is slightly nervous on the kitten’s behalf. Despite Konoe’s eagerness and enthusiasm, Aoba wonders what sort of experience Rai has with other males—especially young, small males. Tonight should go all right as they are both in heat and Konoe has had some extra help from catnip and devil of pleasure—but what if Rai decides he wants to spend some extended time with Konoe? What if he takes him to his home? After the peak of his heat has passed? Does he know what to do or will he cause the kitten pain? Could he hurt him permanently? Could he kill the kitten accidentally? A cold fear shudders down Aoba's spine and into his tail at the thought.

“You were absolutely enchanting this evening, my kitten.” Koujaku enters the room, closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh—um, nothing really,” Aoba replies. He tries to wipe the concern from his face and his mind.

“Would you like a glass of wine? Some food?”

“I’ll have some wine,” Aoba says, not moving even an inch from his seat. In fact, he stretches himself out a little on the sofa. He watches as the prince next in line for the throne pours him a glass of wine. He can’t help feeling a little turned on by the idea that the prince is serving him. How else might Koujaku serve him this evening?

“Here you go.” Koujaku takes a seat on the sofa next to him, and immediately nuzzles the blue kitten’s ears. “Mmm. You smell so good. So what’s on your mind?”

“I’m surprised to see you here. I thought I’d already served your purpose.” Aoba doesn’t bother hiding the catty tone from his voice. Koujaku chuckles a little at his irreverent response.

“Even if I had you for your entire lifetime, I don’t think you’d ever finish ‘serving my purpose.’ Not that it isn't adorable, but how long do you plan you to stay angry with me?”

Aoba clicks his tongue before taking another sip of wine, but he doesn’t reply. Truthfully, he isn’t actually very upset now. In fact, Koujaku’s presence now is soothing his pride quite a bit. He’s awfully happy to be permitted to spend the evening with his prince again.

“Well, I’ll have to see what I can do to change your mind,” Koujaku whispers into Aoba's bristled ear. It feels nice to have this cat so close. It’s much more comfortable than the first time they were together, and being in heat is distracting and wonderful.

“I was just wondering about your brother,” Aoba says. His words make the soft touch to his ears stop suddenly.

“Which brother?”

“Your younger half-brother. Well, both of them, really. But first, about your younger brother.” 

“What about him?” There is a tinge of jealousy in Koujaku’s voice that he doesn’t try to hide. “Are you going to tell me you’re interested in him?”

Aoba giggles softly.

“No. Although I’m glad I can still make you jealous.” 

“What about him?” Koujaku repeats.

“How serious is he about… the debut?”

Koujaku sighs softly.

“I’ve never seen him interested in another cat before now. And this is bordering on obsession.”

“Will he be kind? To Konoe, I mean? The kitten is very sensitive and has no experience.”

“As kind as he can be, I suppose." 

Koujaku’s words aren’t very encouraging. Aoba purses his lips in displeasure. Koujaku continues.

“What? He’s in heat, isn’t he? I mean, there’s no way he wasn’t—with that scent, that siren song, that extra bonus performance on stage.”

“What do you mean about his scent?” Aoba asks sharply. “Did you notice it?”

“How could I not? It’s strangely sweet. Almost like…” 

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve never smelled anything like it before. Of course,” the brunette cat adds quickly, “not as nice as your scent—which smells cool even in the peak of your heat. Like a tall glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.”

“You know,” Aoba pulls away from the brunette for a moment, trying to act at least a little contemptuous and failing. “You paid for me. There’s no reason for you to try to woo me.”

“But that’s just the kind of cat I am. I want you to know I desire you,” Koujaku says smoothly. “And…”

Aoba turns back to him to meet his eyes. Reddish brown—a warm color—Koujaku’s entire complexion is warm. So different from his own cool coloring. He’s always felt that this cat is warm and cozy. He can't wait to touch him, to feel his skin next to his.

“And what?” Aoba asks, making his voice a little softer.

“Well. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep,” Koujaku whispers, leaning in close. “But with my brother as interested as he is in that little kitten, I can’t help but be encouraged on my own behalf—and yours.”

Aoba’s ears perk up and the long fur on his tail bristles at the base. 

“Oh? You’ve forgiven me then?”

“I wouldn’t say forgive. But I will let you make it up to me.”

Koujaku smiles wickedly and takes a sip of wine.

“I’d be delighted.” 

Akira is waiting in the burgundy room for his guest for the evening. He also waited with Aoba in the green room, and he heard that the little Sanga indeed went to the bounty hunter this evening. Thankfully, he is in heat, so it shouldn’t be a painful experience. But Akira can’t help remembering the rumors he’d heard about that cat when he was young and in training. He fears for the kitten’s safety.

It was said the bounty hunter was cruel to a point of being sadistic. Akira is worried for the starry-eyed kitten with the enchanting voice. He has so little experience he may not be able to tell what behavior is normal and what he ought to decline or resist—although, perhaps if his partner was a prince and a bounty hunter the size of Rai, he probably would not be able to decline anything at all.

Unfortunately, Akira was led to this room before he could hear who had won his own auction, though he expects the worst. Surely, Shiki would be bidding on him again, if only to make sure that he couldn’t enjoy himself even a little bit. For a moment, he considers if Shiki and the silver-haired bounty hunter might be similar in the bedroom. He hopes not. And certainly, the prince acted with almost courtly manners around the kitten. Perhaps he needn't worry so much. Shiki will probably be awfully disappointed that he didn’t win the young Sanga as well as his own auction like he’d planned and expect to take out his disappointment on Akira's body. However, there’s no way a fencing instructor could compete against a prince, at least financially. 

Throughout the evening, Akira noticed that the king—the attractive slender brown-haired cat—had been paying him special attention. Life hasn’t been kind to Akira, so he won’t let himself hope that he could have attracted someone so important. In some respects, it’s better this way. At least Akira is in heat, and no one else will have to suffer from Shiki’s attentions. Specifically, he is concerned about Konoe attracting unwanted attention, and that concern only increases. After tonight, the little Sanga will be a target for students, teachers, and guests. There won't be anything preventing others from assaulting him.

Akira paces back and forth in the bedroom, trying to get the little Sanga’s song out of his head. He knew the kitten was singing for the bounty hunter. The song was not meant for him. He knew that. So why did it make his heart ache?

In a little while, the door opens to his room—no knock, of course, but Akira doesn’t expect it. He doesn’t glance up at first, continuing his nervous pacing. Not until he hears Virus’ voice.

“Please, enjoy yourself, Your Highness. Again, thank you so much for your attendance this evening. If you should require anything at all, Akira has the experience to provide it.”

Your Highness?

Akira’s ears perk up and his tail curls questioningly. When he turns toward the door, he can’t keep his jaw from dropping when the king enters the room. The king doesn’t say anything—not even a single hum in response to Virus. He simply enters and shuts the door behind him, leaving Virus outside looking more confused than Akira has ever seen.

Does this mean he won’t be spending the night with Shiki? Akira can hardly believe it. He doesn’t know the king, but surely his tastes won’t be as violent as Shiki’s!

It struck him earlier—the king’s manners are very different from any other cat’s. Perhaps he can get away with it as king, but it still struck him as odd. He doesn’t seem to answer questions directly, and he doesn’t really speak much at all. And when he does, his words sound like riddles.

“Your Highness,” Akira says softly. He drops his face in a bow and quickly lowers himself to his knees. He isn’t quite sure about the etiquette of serving royalty in the bedroom. He should have asked Aoba and forgot. But even so, Aoba’s prince, the dancing instructor, has very different manners that the king before him now, so he may not have been much help.

Akira bristles his fur when his ears are suddenly stroked with excessive tenderness. He is a vigilant cat, but even he didn’t hear the king walk across the room. His feet didn’t make a sound. His chin is brushed lightly and he glances up, daring to meet this strange cat’s gaze. His eyes are deep midnight, with purple swirling in them. And his pupils are dilated.

It’s an extraordinarily handsome face. The king is not from Ransen, that’s for sure. He wonders about Nano’s heritage—he is smaller than the bounty hunter or dance instructor. In fact, he is only a few inches taller than Akira himself. He knows that the previous king had more than one wife, but he isn’t sure how many.

“Your Highness,” Akira greets him—he is amazed and confused, slightly dazed by the presence of royalty in his room. 

The king nods his chin once to indicate Akira should stand up and motions to a chair. Akira complies, getting up quickly and taking the seat where the king has indicated.

Nano takes the chair across from him, gazing at him intently. Neither of them speaks for a few moments and despite Akira’s previous experience with these sorts of auctions, he feels slightly awkward. Not because of the silence, though; more because this is the nation’s king. 

They sit for a few minutes, just staring at each other. Akira feels a little strange—and he noticed this, too, when he was dancing with him earlier. Nano’s touch has an odd effect on his body, and not just from compatibility in the season. A calming effect is how Akira would describe it. It’s a gentle feeling—but when the king touched him even just now, it felt like his blood was boiling and simmering just beneath his skin, as though longing to get closer to this royal person. 

Is it because he is royalty? Akira has never been interested, much less fascinated, by any person of noble blood. In fact, the bounty hunter feels almost repulsive to him—most likely due to Akira’s jealousy of the kitten’s affections. And to Akira, Koujaku seems kind and gentlemanly, but there seems to be a slightly fake quality in his interactions with others. Unlike many other students at this school who spent their lives chasing the news of royalty as though their actions might affect the students’ personal lives in some way, Akira couldn't be bothered.

But now, he can’t deny the attraction and power of royalty. In the king’s presence, Akira is definitely intrigued by the cat gazing at him.

“Did you, um, purchase my services for this evening?” Akira asks. While the king wouldn’t be here otherwise, it’s better to confirm these things in advance. Just to be certain. 

Nano tilts his head to the side. Obviously, he did if he is here now. 

“I see,” Akira says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, I’ve forgotten my manners. Can I get you something to drink, Your Highness?” He’s embarrassed he forgot his manners. 

“Nano.”

“Excuse me?”

“My given name.”

Akira blinks once, and then again. He’s slightly confused. Does this mean the king wishes to be addressed as Nano? That seems awfully informal. Even as a cat who never cared much for social conventions, Akira still finds this a little strange.

A few more minutes pass in silence, only the fire in the hearth cracking and popping. Akira is unsure as to how to start off the evening, and he breaks their eye contact to glance at the fire, wondering if he should add more fuel before they get started.

After the last auction, Shiki bid on him, and there was no delay. Shiki walked in and stripped Akira quickly—almost in a business-like fashion—and began to torture him. He hasn’t really spent much time with other cats in this way. Well, except for the cute little Sanga… that afternoon last week outside in the forest, taking them both by surprise. As harsh as the consequences had been for them both, Akira can’t bring himself to regret touching him. 

A soft sound startles the young cat’s attention back to the king. His fur bristles in surprise when he finds the king—the ruler of the nation—on his knees before him, looking up at his face with an earnest, hopeful, and eager expression in his eyes. His hand is taken gently by the king. His skin feels smooth and cool to the touch, but there’s an obvious compatible connection between the two of them. Even more, the gentle touch feels a little ticklish, and he can feel his pulse just underneath the surface of the skin.

Fascinated, Akira watches the king slowly bring his hand to his mouth, and he expects a kiss on the back of his hand. But instead, the king sucks Akira’s pinky into his mouth—warm and welcome—and a little shock runs down Akira’s spine. That sensation again—bringing the blood up to the surface of his skin as if it wants to touch the king. Nano pulls Akira’s pinky from his lips, scraping it lightly with his fangs, and then sucks Akira’s ring finger into his mouth and wrapping his tongue around it.

A soft sound escapes Akira’s lips. It’s an incredibly sexy sight and the gesture feel heartbreakingly tender. He closes his lips quickly to prevent any additional sound from coming out, leans forward in his chair, and strokes Nano’s ears, hair, and cheek with the hand not currently being tended. Nano continues meeting Akira’s gaze with upturned eyes, and he looks… submissive. 

This is so different from anything he has ever done or ever expected. Even when Akira thought of the little Sanga, it wasn't like this! It’s almost as though the king is asking for Akira to demonstrate his “talent” this evening! A nervous feeling floods his body. This is the king, after all. A cat like him—a charity student—has no business ordering the king around! Perhaps he should confirm, just to be safe.

Looking down at Nano, and running his hands through the silky fur, Akira tries to find the words to ask what his client would like. But as the king is currently tending so carefully to his index finger, it’s slightly distracting. 

“Um…” Desire is pooling heavily in his waist—in addition to the oppressive desire he usually feels with the season. This is a different kind of eagerness; a hopeful eagerness, one that allows him to believe that he might not actually have to suffer through this evening. But the king doesn’t say anything. His mouth is full, after all. 

Even his teeth look attractive, Akira thinks. A warm sensation flooding his chest, he looks a little more closely. For the small stature Nano has, at least compared to the other two princes, his fangs look slightly longer proportionally. And they are sharp, as his fingers can attest, even from the very gentle scraping along the sides.

“How can I serve you?” Akira asks, keeping his voice low—and what he hopes is submissive.

The king doesn’t reply with words, but a sudden lust-filled impulse flashes through Akira’s chest when the king meets his gaze. After he has finished sucking on Akira’s thumb, he pulls away and nudges Akira’s knees as if urging him to stand up.

Akira complies—and again, to his utter shock, the king prostrates himself on the floor, lowering his head to his hands in an elegant bow. Power flashes through his body, and the feelings he brings up when he puts on his stage mask—the urge to control, dominate, subjugate—flow through his body and start to pool in his groin. He takes another sharp breath, trying to control himself, staring at the king's long, slender neck. He wants to bite that elegant, smooth skin. And the sudden thought frightens him a little, though it's irresistible at the same time.

The realization that the most powerful cat in the land is currently on his knees before him strikes Akira to his core. The pleasure and anticipation become nearly unbearable. He can’t believe his luck!

And for the first time in two weeks, the thoughts of the little Sanga kitten disappear from his mind completely.

Chapter Text

Konoe:

By the time I hear footsteps approaching down the hallway, I can move my fingers and curl my toes, so my ability to move is slowly returning. After having sung three times today—twice in the span of fifteen minutes—I’m shocked. Maybe I am improving. The sound of the footsteps makes my ears twitch in anticipation, and I try to keep my tail from lashing impatiently. 

The door opens—and of course, Verg posed me on the bed so I'm facing away from the door. I can’t see who is coming in without turning around. But I don’t have to see. The moment the door opens, the cool scent of winter floats into my nose. It’s delightful—mouthwatering, even—and relief seems to both alleviate the heat in my body and make me feel even hotter.

Rai doesn’t say anything, though I can hear Virus telling him to enjoy the evening. The door closes behind him, leaving Virus outside. I hear some clothes rustling—maybe he’s removing his coat. I feel a soft touch on my hip and I try to turn my head and can’t quite do it yet.

“Enchanting.”

My fur bristles the moment I hear his voice, and my ears tip toward the sound. All day today—and even more now—his voice has had a strange effect on my body. It makes something inside my chest vibrate and turn to liquid. It sounds so sexy and tempting! Then he walks around the bed into my field of vision.

“All this—as lovely as it is—can’t be comfortable, can it?”

“What?” I ask, glancing up at him as he looks at my body.

“The glitter?” He strokes me for a moment, my hip, to be precise, letting his fingers trace the stones and glitter stuck to my skin. “I mean, it’s gorgeous on you, but can’t you feel it?” He turns me onto my back for a moment, grabs my ankles, and slides me down to the foot of the bed. I can indeed feel those damned little stones poking into my skin.

“Yes. It’s uncomfortable.”

“I want to wait till you get more of your energy back anyway. Let’s get rid of it.” 

He stands up and heads to the table. There are some cloths and a bowl of water there, which he brings back to the bed. Dipping one of the cloths into the bowl, he starts at my collarbone and shoulder. The cool water feels nice against my hot skin—his touch so tender that I melt.

This isn’t exactly what I was expecting. To be honest, Aoba and Akira have been harping on me the past few days about how violent this cat is and what a horrible reputation he has. I found it difficult to believe—just based on the time I’ve spent with him alone. He hasn’t touched me roughly so far. I wonder if he is pretending to be someone else around me, maybe so I won’t be afraid of him—he even asked if I would be “open” to his advances last week. Before he decided to bid on me, he bothered to ask. I wonder, though, if I had refused, would he have still bid on me? Was he really asking for my consent or just trying to make me feel better? At any rate, he can’t be what they think he is—at least not in his private life and in the time he spends with me. 

He keeps glancing at my face while concentrating on the task of removing the glitter from me.

“I still can’t believe how relaxed you are after singing. You’re so vulnerable.” His voice sounds heated, and it makes my ears twitch. I hear restrained desire in his tone.

“Um, yeah.” 

A few moments pass, and I start to feel a little more self-conscious about all the skin currently on display, as though the awareness of my nakedness outweighs the comfort of his touch. My anxiety is increasing.

“Konoe.”  

His tone is suddenly quite serious, so I glance back at him nervously. I am immediately filled with nervous anxiety. Was my song too weak? Did it sound horrible? Did it connect with someone other than him? Am I not good enough? Panic starts to rise uncontrollably and I can’t stop the flow of words from my mouth.

“Please,” I whisper, tears flooding my eyes. “Please—you cannot leave me here! Please! I will do anything—I will be your slave for the rest of my life if you take me away from this place! Even if you don’t want me to sing for you, at least make me your servant—” 

“Oy… no. What is this?” My chin is brushed gently, making me meet his gaze so he can lower his lips to my face. I think he intends to kiss my nose, but I tilt up my chin and catch his tongue in my mouth. He chuckles softly. “So eager.”

“I-i j-just can’t be left here,” I urge. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“What makes you think I would consider leaving you here?”

I stop for a second before replying.

“Well… weren’t you displeased with me? My song? It was weak, wasn’t it? It didn’t focus enough of my energy on you? Honestly, I was tired even before I got on stage—I shouldn’t have sung to you out in the garden—and my body feels weird like it’s not quite in my control.”

“Kitten…” Rai sighs softly. He shakes his head gently while his hands continue removing the glitter from my shoulder. “That’s not it. Not at all. You did very well. I’m very pleased. You even sang twice in such a short amount of time. It was very powerful.”

“Why did you sound so serious?”

“I just couldn’t believe how it felt. I didn’t know your song could change and get even stronger,” Rai says. I look up at him and he won’t meet my gaze for a moment. The cloth is just below my belly now—and it tickles terribly. I can’t move, but my skin keeps twitching. “Are you ticklish here?”

“Mmm…” I’m not sure I want to admit it. It does tickle but something else, too.

“Let’s get your back.” Smiling, he turns me onto my stomach and gets to work on removing the sparkling stuff from my backside. I cannot believe how exposed I feel in this collar and my underwear. I wonder if I’d be better off naked? It’s almost more embarrassing to have him touch me like this than it was to strip in front of the entire auditorium. He keeps his voice soft, but I feel impatience behind it. “Why did you think I wouldn’t enjoy your performance? You’ve mentioned something like that before.”

My ears flush as I take a moment to answer. His fingers touch the tip of my ear, and he chuckles softly again. 

“It was just so… shameful,” I say, keeping my voice soft. It’s easy to do since my face is in the mattress right now. I turn my head to the side so I will be heard—I can move my neck again. “What they made me do…”

“It was beautiful. I have never seen a cat become so excited from just a caress to his tail.” He touches my tail softly and it sends a shudder through my body. “I should have guessed. Didn’t you try to touch my tail the very first day we met?”

“Um…” I wonder if I should deny it, but it’s obvious he remembers.

“I’m not quite that sensitive.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper quietly. 

“It’s nothing to apologize for. It will make things a little easier, I think… in the future.”

“Future?” My ears prickle when the silver cat speaks of the future.

“Yes. If you decide to come with me. Your body may not always feel like it does right now. And I… won’t want to wait for the season to come around only twice per year. It’s important to me that you also enjoy when we… connect.”

Wait a second. Is he talking about sex right now? I’m not sure I quite understand.

“If I went with you, wouldn’t you want me there as a Sanga?”

“Yes, of course.” 

I’m even more confused. Why is he bringing up sex? What does sex have to do with it? Is he saying he wants to have sex with me as his Sanga? Is he attracted to me in that way, too? The thought is electrifying.

“Kitten,” Rai murmurs softly, stopping his work and lifting his face so he can meet mine. “I may be mistaken, but you don’t know much about the bonds between Touga and Sanga, do you?”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry,” I admit. I don’t know anything. I didn’t even know I was a Sanga before I sang for Virus and Trip.

“Stop apologizing. That really isn’t necessary. A part of you understands or you will soon, once I explain. The bond between us a Touga and Sanga builds gradually and deepens as a result of our connection. The better we know and understand each other, the stronger we will grow as partners.”

“I understand that.”

“You have sung for me several times—and you sing very well, eagerly, in fact.” He waits for a moment before continuing. I feel compelled to say something.

“But it’s not as though I choose to sing for you every time. It’s more like you pull it out of me.”

Rai’s eyebrows lift.

“Is that what it feels like to you?” His voice is quiet, and his smile has faded.

“It’s not a bad feeling…”

“It feels like I am forcing you to sing?”

“N-not like that, either. It’s more that I can’t resist when you ask.”

“And do you want to resist?”

“No! I want to sing for you. But I can’t seem to do it properly until you ask me to or unless…” My ears flush deeply and I regret starting this conversation. 

“Unless what, kitten.” He’s demanding I continue, not just requesting an answer.

“Unless you happen to be, um, touching me. It spills out very quickly then, immediately. In the auditorium, you weren’t touching me. But as soon as I saw you, my body remembered that touch—how you were kissing me—and stuff—and my song flew out like a bird.”

“I see.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I am desperate to know, and I curl up on my side to get a better look at him. 

“Not at all,” Rai smiles again. “It’s from our bond increasing in strength. You are so very powerful because of your eagerness to please. Your willingness to connect sounds beautiful. It entices me—and your power flows into my body and I can feel your emotions. The bond is a wonderful thing. I just… worry you may not always have the desire to please me. That’s why we should do other things that will satisfy you enough to lend me your power.”

I’m confused again. It almost sounds like he is saying he doesn’t think he is worth my song. But I’m in the more desperate position here, aren’t I? I'm the one without a choice, I think.

“What kinds of things? I can’t think of anything else I'd want except for you touch me,” I admit that last part probably too candidly. “And maybe… not just touch.”

“Oh?” I can hear a smile in his tone. “That’s a good thing. Perhaps that is how we will start. But in battle, the bond appears differently. I may be able to kiss you before a battle, but if we are rushing and I don’t have time, the question is whether you will still want to sing for me.”

He is talking about bringing me out into the field with him. It frightens me a little, but this is a good sign. It’s slightly confusing to mix singing during sex and singing for battle, however. I can’t imagine they’d be anything alike. I just want to feel close to him. I want him to feel good. And he is serious about getting me out of here, which is my primary concern. 

“May I speak freely?”

“Around me, yes. I would always request your honesty. Don’t hold yourself back.”

“I am afraid of this school. I know, I have been told no one will do me any real harm. However, I was protected this past week—not allowed to be with the other students or teachers—in order to preserve my, er, virginity—if I still am one after everything else that was done to me. Those that watched over me paid an awful lot of attention to my body, and every single one of them is anxious for me to return after tonight—so they can have a deeper taste. It disgusts me to think of any of them touching me.”

Again, the brows lift, and he looks almost amused.

“Kitten. Don’t concern yourself with it. I will take you home tomorrow, and we will have a week or so to experiment—to see if this is—if I am—what you really want. Other Tougas will desire you as much as I do. I saw them at the auction.”

“But none were as kind as you were or as tender with me. I know I can do well for you, sir! I want to do well and I want to make you proud! I want to be with you, and I know you.”

He lowers his voice a little more.

“But that's just it. You don't really know me. Haven’t you heard the rumors about me?”

“I have,” I answer carefully. “I just couldn’t believe that you would be cruel to me—not when you have been so kind and thoughtful. No one else has been as kind as you.”

“Hmm.” When the silver cat hums, the vibration of his voice sinks deep into my ears and makes me tremble. Even when he brings up these rumors, I can’t imagine him ever being mean or cruel. I can’t imagine him treating me poorly—not ever. But I may be inexperienced and excessively anxious and overly aroused from the season, I suppose. 

He has finished cleaning off all the rhinestones and glitter from my body now, and he crawls up on the bed over me—I’m turned to my back—and his hair brushes against my chest. It feels really nice but slightly startling. My body is sweating and hot, and I feel I have an itch inside me that I can’t scratch. 

“How are you feeling? Can you move?” 

I nod my head and daringly wrap my arms around his neck, pulling my fingers through his long hair. 

“I’m hot,” I admit.

“That’s a normal side effect of the season,” he purrs softly. “May I… help you?”

I suddenly realize what he is asking—I didn’t know that mating season symptoms were so much like an illness. It’s unnerving, but my body seems to know what it needs to do to fix the problem.

I nod again, dropping my gaze, and whisper, “yes,” as quietly as I can. 

Pulling his neck a little closer, I lift my torso off the bed so I can meet his lips. I mean to touch his lips gently, but that isn’t how he responds. He meets me with fervor and eagerness, making me moan softly. His fangs press against my bottom lip, bruising it gently. It feels… right. Like I belong here with him. That strange soft glow warms my body. I want to be here.

My chest feels funny, light and airy, and something flutters inside the core of my being. I wonder if it might be another song, but I’m not willing to sing just yet. I am finding I want to participate in what’s coming next, and my song will deplete me of power.

“Please,” I urge quietly.

“I’ll go slow,” he purrs softly, licking my ears and then letting his tongue trail down my throat. I lift up my chin so he has better access, and a strange submission floods my body when I let him nip the vulnerable skin. He keeps going, tracing the line of my collarbone—leaving a trail of kisses, licks, and light nips against the skin. An odd sense of peace and strain fill the room—the mixture is confusing and arousing.

When he reaches my chest, his fingers circle one of my nipples and tease it lightly. That sends desire and heat into my body, and my chest aches when his tongue sucks and nips at the other nipple. A sensation that can only be described as tenderness floods my heart. 

Again, I’m amazed at how different it feels when Rai touches me. When compared to how I’ve been stimulated before—by Virus, Trip, Verg, Arbitro, and even Akira—and none of it felt quite so adoring and urgent. There’s a part of my mind that is paying very close attention to the silver cat, taking in what he is doing. My hands act on their own, running through the fur on his ears. Now that he is at my chest, I sit up a little to lick his ears as well, but he pushes me back against the mattress. 

“Just relax,” he whisper—the hissing sound of his tongue against his fangs and his soft breath feel nice against my skin. Warm, gentle, tender. 

When his hand slips down to my underwear—as skimpy as they are—my stomach muscles flex nervously. He toys with the waistband, tracing his fingers underneath the elastic, caressing my sensitive skin underneath the band all the way around my belly to my tail. He moves his mouth down my chest, licking me and leaving a clean scent behind on me. I inhale roughly, gasping quietly when he licks my belly and grooms the soft fur just below my navel. A shudder rushes through me when he licks me there. 

He grabs the base of my tail—gently and then a little more firmly—deliberately stroking the fur against the growth, and I can’t suppress a gasp of delight. It’s an indulgent, rich feeling—so rich it makes me feel a little nauseated. But that nausea dissipates in an instant when the other hand cups my erection over my underwear. The touch relaxes my muscles and my body trembles with desire. He traces the outline of my cock, lightly pinching the head and spilling drops of precome, which quickly soak through the fabric. 

Feeling exposed and a little ashamed of the sounds leaking from my mouth, I try to struggle away from him for a moment, but he’s heavy against my legs, pinning me to the bed. He glances up at my face—and seeing him there, lying between my legs with his tongue grooming my fur—it sends another violent shudder down my spine and fluffs up my tail. My fangs bare and saliva starts building up in my mouth. I need more. 

“Are you doing all right?” Rai checks in with me—I think he’s slightly afraid I’ll freak out. Frankly, I am, too. I’m pretty sure I know what he has in mind, and I’m both nervous and excited. My eagerness is gradually taking over my fear since I have actually been anticipating this time together for the past week. I haven’t been able to stop thinking or fantasizing about it.

“Hmm… yeah,” I whisper, and my voice sounds weird in my ears. It makes my own ears twitch and blush. He smiles a little when he sees my pink ears.

“May I continue?”

He’s asking—I think—for my consent. 

“Um, didn’t you buy me?” I ask. “I mean… buy the privilege of my first time? To spend the night with me?”

“I did. But I want to be sure you’re willing and excited about what’s coming next.” 

What is coming next, exactly, I wonder? I mean, I know what’s supposed to happen, I think. It’s just weird to imagine it too precisely. He sits up and strips off his vest and blouse, then gets to his feet and unbuckles his belt. I am staring at him—looking at his body—I haven’t seen him nude before, though I touched his chest out in the garden—and my gods, did I really touch this man?! He’s incredibly attractive. Muscular legs are exposed when he loses his breeches, leaving him in his underclothing.

“I’ll be gentle with you tonight.”

“Okay,” I say, still a little unsure about why my consent is being requested. I miss the fact that he is promising to be gentle tonight. Later, I will remember this. But for now, I am aware he could just pin me down on the mattress and take me however he likes… and truthfully, that thought isn’t all that unpleasant, much to my amazement.

He pulls off my underwear, watching my expression as he does. It’s embarrassing to be seen and I find I have to look away. But there’s a soft brush against my chin, and I turn back.

“Don’t look away. I want to see you, Konoe.”

He said my name in that husky voice, covered in passion and desire. He wants me—and he wants me to feel pleasure. My heart lurches in my chest and my emotions swirl around inside me, aching to be set free. But I still don’t let my song come out. I am basking in anticipation, for now.

The hand at the base of my tails lowers a little, bristling my fur when he brushes his fingers over my entrance. My body trembles when he inserts a finger, but it doesn’t hurt. I expected it would, like when Arbitro examined me—but even when Verg put that vibrator inside me today, it didn’t feel as bad as I expected.

“Hou? Have you been prepared for me?” He murmurs softly, continuing to stroke my cock with his other hand. I feel utterly breathless, but he eases off regularly so I don’t get too excited. 

My ears burn with heat—of course, he’d discover the small toy inside of my body, and another finger slips in and catches it. It stops vibrating when he pulls it out—and I feel a thick, viscous liquid dripping inside me, lining my inner walls. I will probably be thankful for that tomorrow, I guess. 

Casting the toy on the floor, Rai pushes two fingers back into me while increasing pressure on my cock. My nose and the tips of my ears are going numb and it’s hard to breathe as I am gasping quietly and trying to suppress my voice.

When his fingers hook inside my body and drag down my inner walls, a deep indulgent shiver shakes my body and makes a loud moan escape. It actually feels good—his fingers inside me feel good, to my amazement. It feels like my body isn’t my own, that fuzzy confusion coming over me once more when I arch my back, turning to my side and pressing my stomach against his so I can touch more skin.

I’m not quite sure what to do with my hands, so I continue running them through his hair, stroking the fur on his ears, and when he lifts himself up, I grasp the base of his tail. It bristles full and wide, swaying back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. His ears bristle, too, making him look almost aggressive. But his pupil is blown, his body is sweating, and he smells so nice and fresh and cool, so I am not afraid.

Though perhaps I should be.

I run my hands down his waist, moving to the front of his body—my claws rhythmically drawing and retracting without my consent—and I try hard not to scratch him. Brushing my fingers through the smooth, silky fur just beneath his navel, I toy with his waistband just like he did mine. Though it seems he is trying to distract me with those fingers rubbing my inner walls and stretching my insides, his other hand caressing my cock. 

But I want to see him, so I push down the waistband of his shorts and let his erection spring free. I’ve certainly felt it before—but seeing it, erect and proud, dripping with eagerness, is something else entirely. A bolt of fear shivers down my spine when I realize exactly where that thing is going to go, and I start to get nervous. Yet that hazy confusion and the need in my body quickly overpower my fear, and I lick my lips in anticipation.

For him, I will do anything. I will put up with any pain for his sake. If he will take me away from here, he can do as he likes to me, whenever he likes. And I will do my best to enjoy it.

After pulling his fingers from me, he releases my cock and shifts around on the bed, losing his underwear, turning me to my back and folding my legs at the knees. He holds both my thighs firmly as I’m pressed hard against the mattress, my legs flush against my stomach and spread. I feel incredibly exposed and my whole body flushes with heat, my tail bristled and lifted at the base—and something hot presses against my entrance. It’s much hotter and much harder than his fingers, but it doesn’t hurt—much to my relief.

He is staring down at me, meeting my gaze with that pale blue eyes swirling with desire, his hair completely loosed from the ponytail and sweeping across my body. He looks serious—and also as though he is deliberately holding himself back and taking his time. As he presses inside me, I can’t restrain my voice. A loud, musical sigh mixed with a purr overflows, and I can no longer hold back my song.

Strangely, the loud melody bursts from my body with a bright flash of warm light, raising goosebumps on my skin and shivering through my flesh. The light looks slightly pink in color, which is different than before. I feel him pulsing inside me where we are connected, and my flesh vibrates around him.

A guttural moan leaks from the silver cat’s throat, accompanied with a purr so loud it sounds like a growl. I feel a surge of desire flowing into my chest and taking me over, and it’s utterly confusing for a moment, making me stiffen.

“Relax,” he murmurs hoarsely, his honeyed voice laced with need.

I do my best to comply, but the song is utterly distracting. It has soft, submissive lyrics—a feeling that accompanies the melody since my mouth isn’t moving—and its revealing nature flusters me.

Make me yours. I want to be yours entirely. Make me lose myself in pleasure. I belong to you.

“Precious Sanga,” he purrs, nudging my throat with his nose.

Soon, Rai’s thighs rest against my ass, my dick pressed between our stomachs, and I breathe deeply, getting another lungful of his crisp scent. He smells delicious—and I still want more. My body feels incredibly greedy.

I lean up to kiss him and he moans softly, his tail swaying wide with pleasure. And then he starts to move. He starts slowly, but I can feel every little motion inside me when he flexes his muscles. I shiver and shake, my skin trembles, my efforts to keep my voice restrained useless.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers. It’s a surprising command, and I hadn’t realized I’d closed them in the first place. His face is right in front of me, softened with pleasure and eagerness, and I can almost visualize his desire between us. The light pouring from my body lights up his face and it absorbs into his skin, making him glow and his hair shimmer. I can feel in the tendrils themselves and it’s incredibly overwhelming to be covered with touch.

He is thrusting into my body now, pulling himself out almost all the way, holding my hips firmly in place, pushing soft, sexy sighs out of me with each movement. It’s almost embarrassing for him to watch me so closely, but it feels so nice—his warmth inside me, my body expanding and making room for him, my dick dripping eagerly, my sighs coloring the room with a soft haze. 

Shifting his angle, he pulls my hips down a little lower on the bed, and a shot of desire sparks through my body. It’s even more intense than what he was doing with his fingers earlier. It feels amazing—like a miniature climax, but each thrust builds on the next and the next, and I am inundated with impatience. I need more.

My body has transformed into a greedy animal, wanting to touch him more, pulling him closer to me. My cock strains painfully and tears spill from my eyes. My fur bristles and my purr deepens into a growl. When I kiss him, I accidentally nip his lips with my fangs. I can’t retract my claws and I stop trying, scratching my nails down his back, grabbing his tail and stroking it firmly out to the tip.

His hands move away from my hips—one to the base of my tail, one encircling my cock—and that sudden touch makes me jerk. A low chuckle mixes in with his growl, and he lowers his lips to my ear. My eyelids drift closed… and I float in a strange suspended space of overwhelming touch, feeling his lips on my ear, his tongue deep inside, his hands fucking both my cock and my tail, and his body pounding in and out of me. It’s making me lose my mind, and a surge of desperation makes me cry out. 

“Please! Rai!” I need to call his name, and I hear him whisper mine into the ear he is licking. A melting sensation covers my body and flows to my core, and I am suddenly flooded with an indulgent shivering sensation. 

My body jerks again as I climax into his fist, my insides tightening around his cock so much that he has to slow his movements. Pleasure surges through my body and my song and voice ring out loud in satisfaction. But he keeps his hands and body moving and pulls back slightly. I realize that he’s watching me come. My ears and cheeks flush but I can’t stop at this point. My chin is nudged slightly with his nose, making me meet his gaze, and then I feel him stutter.

Long white lashes drift close just gently—and only for a second—and I hear a loud relieved sigh that spills into my ears at the same time I feel his release. It’s an intense sensation—watching him lose himself while indulging with me. It brings a sense of joy into my chest and a feeling of comfort and belonging.

When he finishes, he rests for a moment, holding me in his arms, pushing his nose against my shoulder, his breath ragged, and I stroke his hair softly, purring loud and uninhibited. My body is completely relaxed now that my song is finished, and it slowly loses power and sinks into the bed. 

I gasp quietly when Rai pulls his length from inside my body—it’s a strange sensation, not being taken anymore. I’m slightly confused and oddly, I feel a little lonely. However, he grabs a soft towel from the side of the bed and wipes me down gently, and then curls my back up against his chest and starts grooming my ears with long firm strokes of his tongue, like he’s grooming with a purpose. It tickles, but a gentle feeling forms in my chest despite my apprehension. It calms something deep within my body—though each time his tongue connects with my skin, it sends a soft little shiver through the area.

Relaxing into the touch, I close my eyes and purr, drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

I can’t believe this is happening.

That thought is currently running through Akira’s head, again and again as though on a loop. This is the king of all of Sisa in front of him—on his knees! It’s overwhelming and strange to think that someone so powerful is in the same room with him, much less waiting to be commanded. Akira a little unsure of himself, not knowing what his guest expects. But he isn’t afraid—there’s something very gentle about the nation’s leader that Akira didn’t expect. He takes a deep breath to force himself into the role he plays on stage.

“Strip.”

He issues the command using his firmest voice, still unable to comprehend that this is the nation’s king on the floor, prostrate before him. For a quick moment, midnight-blue eyes swirling with deep violet glance up to meet his gaze, sending a shiver down his spine. The cat in front of him is brimming with excitement and arousal, which only serves to increase his own appetite. His spotted tail lashes back and forth.

“You heard me. Take off your clothes.” Even though Nano hasn’t really hesitated, Akria repeats his command in a calm, firm voice—to help establish the mood and his authority.

Nano climbs to his feet and begins unbuttoning his clothes. He doesn’t put on much of a show, instead being more concerned with obedience—which Akira finds incredibly hot. His breath catches when the king’s pale chest is exposed—and he is shocked to see it and his back, too, are covered with scars. How could this be? Isn’t the king traditionally spared physical discipline? 

The silver kitten doesn’t wait for his client to undress completely. Even though he doesn’t hesitate taking off his clothes, Akira feels the need to remind him—once again—when he’s in his underwear, “All of them. I want to see all of you.”

A shiver goes up his spine when the words slip out so honestly. He doesn’t remember giving Konoe or Aoba this kind of feedback, but somehow it seems natural with the cat before him.

Nano is not blushing—he is not ashamed—nor does he try to hide his nudity. In a way, it looks like the clothes are slightly uncomfortable and that if anything, he prefers to be naked—even in front of others. Akira has never met a cat like that and finds it intriguing. Hell, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Shiki naked and that cruel cat has had him many times.

Nano turns around to place his neatly folded garments on the couch behind him—a strange thing for him to be doing since, if he is the king, doesn’t he have servants to clean up after him? When he turns around, Akira is surprised again by the king’s luscious ass—rounded and shapely and gorgeous—and completely free of scars. Aside from the hair on his head and the fur covering his tail and ears, the king is completely hairless, and his skin is so pale Akira can see the blue-green veins just underneath the surface. Akira's heart flutters at the sight of those veins as though he is magically drawn to him. He’s even more impressive naked than in the fine but loose-fitting clothes, and a wave of nervous energy floods the younger cat’s body as the king returns to the place in front of Akira’s chair, lowering himself to his knees.

He’s stunning and slightly intimidating just because of who he is—but he isn’t frightening, unlike Shiki who goes out of his way to be cruel and terrifying. There’s not much else Akira can think to do next—except the stage show. He knows the stage show. So he decides to wing it, hoping Nano will enjoy himself.

“Fetch the collar from the table.”

Ears perking up and his tail fluffing out—so much that he looks like a different cat—a long-haired one like his brothers—Nano gets to his feet, walks to the table, and returns with the collar, lifting it up in both hands with his face lowered like an offering. However, Akira does not take the collar until Nano looks up from long eyelashes to meet his gaze. Not wanting to waste their time or ruin the mood, Akira takes it from his outstretched hands and buckles it around his neck, while keeping his gaze on the king and stroking the silky smooth skin on his throat. Those violet shimmering eyes are mesmerizing, and Akira feels a buzzing just beneath the surface of his skin. Anticipation? Compatibility? Pathetically, even after over a year, Akira has never had sex during the mating season with a cat who was actually compatible with him. Perhaps once—after a rough night with Shiki—he and Aoba spent some time messing around. It was much better than his time with Shiki, who always feels like he’s rubbing Akira’s fur the wrong way, not to mention needlessly violent. Nano lets his eyes drop to the floor once again, only occasionally glancing up for a moment and his ears twitch when he hears the clink of the buckle. His fur stays fuzzy and fluffy.

The king is looking up at me from the floor… on his knees.

That look smolders with desire.

“Good boy,” Akira says softly, brushing his claws through the bristling soft brown fur and soft wavy hair on his head. Nano’s eyes drift closed for a moment, as though enjoying the touch thoroughly. Offhand, Akira wonders at how much the king revels in the tenderness of his touch—and whether he is allowed regular release or if there are special rules in place that prevent him from leaving the castle or connecting with other cats as he pleases. Didn’t the bounty hunter say something about the king needing to get out more? And if that ice-queen noticed something… well, there must be some truth to it.

Akira changes his game plan a little, deciding to go a more gentle route with the king. He looks vulnerable—but only because he has made himself vulnerable. Plus, for Akira, never having done this before—except on a stage with another student—is intimidating.

“My boots,” Akira commands, his voice soft and his own fur bristling slightly, “remove them.”

Nano complies immediately—unlacing the heavy leather boots and pulling them off his feet. He also peels off his socks, stroking the arches of his feet with an incredible tenderness that sends ticklish waves of pleasure through his body. Akira can’t be sure, but he is pretty sure he just saw Nano licking his lips. Steadying himself, Akira issues his next command.

“My harness. Take it off.”

Unbuckling each buckle carefully, Nano lets his fingers trail across Akira’s pale and near-perfect skin while holding his gaze. Each time his fingers connect with the surface of Akira’s skin, that electrical sensation simmers beneath the surface. It feels good. Akira focuses all his attention on the gorgeously pale and naked cat before him.

“Now, unbutton my pants.”

Akira hasn’t decided to strip completely, but he doesn’t get to make that decision. At first, he had planned on taking the king (and oh my gods is this really what is happening?!) while keeping his pants on. But he wants Nano to touch him—and Nano senses this and obliges. He peels him out of the tight leather pants with a speed Akira can’t quite process, lathering attention on Akira’s erection. Of course, he’s already hard from all the stimulation from Verg earlier as well as the vibrator humming softly inside him, but having such tender caresses from that soft, silky tongue is a shocking sensation. Nano cups his balls tenderly—like they are a precious and rare treasure—lavishing wet grooming licks on his cock and groin, from the insides of his thighs to the tip of his dick.

When those violet eyes glance up at him, swirling with lust, they send a shudder coursing down the younger cat’s body, rippling his fur and covering his skin with goosebumps. Akira thinks he sees just the trace of a smile tugging at the brown cat’s lips, and his fangs expose deliberately.

It’s terrifying—to see those oversized and sharp fangs peeking out over lips that are slightly too plush, especially so close to his groin—and it sends another wave of lust into his hips. Lashing his fluffy tail, Akira feels Nano’s desire—and while he has felt lust from other cats who have spent time with him in the bedroom, this feels different somehow. He wonders if the king is trying to restrain himself. Akira decides then and there to make him come completely undone.

Akira roughly digs his hands in the king’s hair, drawing his claws but still being gentle, and then moves another hand to the collar around his throat, stroking soft skin underneath the leather. The black leather brings out his dark, lush lashes and the round pupils in his eyes. He’s a gorgeous creature.

“Mmm…” Akira can’t suppress a moan and starts to get slightly worried. With all the attention being lavished on his cock—and when a hand sneaks behind him to grab his tail and brush it gently—he needs to make a move to change their positions. Otherwise he won’t be able to stop. Though more than anything, Akira would love to have the king service him this way. Once, Aoba took him into his mouth, but that was a long time ago in the same catnip patch in which he tried to take the little Sanga. “Wait…”

The look he gets in response to his protest is almost desperate—the urgency to please, the desire to touch and taste—and he can’t resist those eyes. Plus if he’s in heat, and they are this compatible, it should be okay—he should be able to climax more than once. The gods know how many times that little Sanga came today—and what the bounty hunter was actually doing to him out there in the woods to make him sing like that. Akira should easily be able to keep up, though he tries to ignore the jealous feelings he gets whenever the bounty hunter and Sanga spring to mind. And anyway, it feels too good to tell Nano to stop.

Nano swallows him up without gagging or choking, and the feel of his tongue is wet and the purr in the back of his throat vibrates, pulling a wonderful melting sensation from Akira’s core. Of course, Shiki makes him come—but coming because you will be fucked till you can’t walk if you don’t and coming because your partner wants you to experience pleasure are two different kinds of sex. Akira has never experienced the latter until today—well, aside from Aoba’s and the interrupted experience with Konoe. Aoba takes his frustration out on others with sex, and the kitten—well, Akira just wanted to touch the source of that magical song.

It’s strange for him to relax and really enjoy the sensations—and the view… Akira can’t keep his eyes closed. He has to watch as his dick is pulled in and out of Nano’s mouth and then licked, as saliva drips out of the corners of the cat’s mouth. That’s the king—there, on the floor, with his dick in his mouth, lashing his bristled tail side to side in anticipation, twitching his ears when Akira makes a sound as though memorizing which touches feel the best. The thought sends a wave of powerful pleasure—and pleasurable power—through Akira’s hips and the tips of his ears go numb. His tail puffs out and swishes behind him—and Nano grabs it, fingering the sensitive tip gently while glancing up at Akira’s eyes. 

The vibrator inside him buzzes gently—like a purr—and it quickly makes him lose control. He briefly wonders if Nano can feel it—how much of him is actually vibrating? But faster than expected and with a huge surge coming near, Akira doesn’t resist. His vision suddenly flashes white—lewd-sounding sighs and gasps escaping his lips—when he comes right in the brown cat’s mouth. Tingling waves of pleasure shiver through his body into his fingers and toes—unlike anything he has experienced before. Besides messing around in the woods with the other two charity students, sexual pleasure has always been mixed with pain for Akira. This feels much more intimate—and to some degree, a little unnerving—if only because the experience feels so foreign.

Nano licks the cum from Akira’s dick after pulling it out of his mouth—he has swallowed all of Akira’s passion—and then continues dropping tingling, tender licks, and nips on the insides of his thighs, his balls, the fur just below his navel. He is being careful not to overstimulate Akira, which the silver kitten appreciates, although his fangs are awfully sharp. The next morning, Akira will find love bites on the insides of his thighs and remember this moment. Nano’s hand slips up underneath him, brushing his entrance just softly, tickling over it with his fingers, making him shiver with delight.

Being touched there can feel pleasurable? Naturally, Akira assumed such a thing was possible—since apparently, some cats willingly have sex this way—but he’s never experienced anything like pleasure… although it’s possible the feelings are the result of the pleasant vibrations rumbling inside his body. And as a finger pushes inside of his hole, he is suddenly aware his plans may change if he doesn't take charge.

Akira doesn’t want that. He is sure he wants to top—and he’s going to do everything in his power to make it happen. He wants to see the king come undone under the touch of his fingers—under the touch of his hands—and see him worked up till he can’t be worked up anymore.

“Enough,” he murmurs. “Get to your feet and climb up on the bed.”

While Akira hasn’t taken another cat like this before, he can imagine a few things that would make the act more bearable and pleasant. Looking at Nano—and his eagerness—as he kneels on the bed, Akira folds his arms across his chest, a fresh wave of arousal flooding his lower half.

“On the side table is a jar of lube. Use it to prepare yourself.”

The brown cat’s pupils dilate wide for a moment, and he keeps his eyes on Akira, who is feeling slightly self-conscious about his nudity and basking in the afterglow of his climax. He brings his bristled tail toward the front of his body to hide his already-rising erection, occasionally stroking his own hilt with the fluffy tail. To the young cat’s delight and surprise, Nano complies with his request, stroking himself lewdly in front of Akira’s eyes.

“I want to watch you,” Akira whispers.

The brown cat sinks deep into the mattress, resting his head on the pillow, lifting up his hips slightly, giving the younger cat a full view of his luscious ass and his bold erection. All while maintaining their visual connection, he pushes a lubed finger inside of himself, and Akira shivers in anticipation.

Maybe he wants to participate more actively, but Akira can’t quite figure out how to do it. His confidence lags and makes him hesitate, and with the king’s bold gaze feeling almost commanding to him, he feels as though he needs to stay right where he is to supervise and watch. Absently, he follows Nano’s gaze down to find the hand stroking his cock, and Akira's cheeks and ears fill with heat.

Nano is experienced—more experienced than he himself, anyway, which probably doesn’t say a lot. What experience Akira has is how to get off quickly even when horrible things are being done to him—and according to what he’s learned from Aoba and his single experience with Konoe, that does not necessarily have to be the case. Nano’s complete lack of shyness is unnerving and enticing—and his cock gets harder and his pupils dilate, his fur fluffs out and his fangs bare.

Imploring him with his gaze, Akira steps closer to the bed. Nano has three fingers inside his ass and a soft sound—almost like a whine but laced with a purr—sneaks out of him. Akira’s heart skips a beat and a melting sensation floods him, increasing in intensity the closer he gets to Nano. It feels like his body is magnetically attracted to the king.

The silver kitten climbs on top of the king, pushing him to his back, who is entranced by him. And Akira wants to touch him. He has only ever wanted to touch the little Sanga before, though his experience with Aoba wasn’t unpleasant—and at this point, the sweet kitten’s face and song have long faded from his mind. His hands are drawn to the tempting, flushing skin below him, and he runs his hands from Nano’s shoulders to his hips.

All fear and hesitation leave him as he pushes apart Nano’s thighs and pulls him down a little closer to where he is kneeling between his legs. Sweat sparkles softly in the low firelight—and a scent like earth—freshly watered, rich earth—sinks into his nose.

A tremor rushes through Nano’s body when Akira presses his hardness against his hot entrance and—am I really going to do this?—he hesitates before simply pushing inside. He shyly meets Nano’s gaze once more, and a hand shoots out faster than he can process with his eyes, fingers caressing his cheek and jaw with utter tenderness and trust. Akira blinks in surprise—unable to tell how that cat moved so quickly—but his anxiety fades and is replaced by reciprocal tenderness and eagerness. A slight electric sensation flows where their skin touches—and he feels drawn to the brown cat and is soothed. No words are needed between them.

Pushing into the king’s body, pleasure crashes through Akira’s body—pleasure mixed with power and force—a completely foreign sensation for him when he connects with a partner sexually. He loves it—and craves more and more.

Interrupting his thoughts, however, he hears a song—not so much in his ears but echoing in his heart—and the little Sanga’s face pops into his head. Konoe is singing again. The song sounds full of desire and desperation. At least, it isn’t pain—and something inside Akira’s chest lurches unpleasantly. He should feel relief—apparently, the kitten is getting what he wants (and deserves) from the bounty hunter. But a slight apprehension and intense jealousy flood him once again—just like it did in the auditorium, the woods, and every other time Konoe sang for someone other than him. Tears burn the back of Akira’s throat and he freezes.

Bringing him out of his sudden melancholy, Nano reaches up both hands to Akira’s face, placing them on his cheeks and pulling him closer with a power Akira didn’t know he had and does not expect. Their lips meet, fangs clicking against fangs, tongues entwined. A gentle electrical pulse zaps Akira’s tongue and fills his body with warmth.

Is this what it feels like to be compatible with another cat? Even with the little Sanga, Akira didn’t feel this kind of connection. It’s enough to soothe Akira and forget the Sanga and the enchanting song.

Nano pulls back, lying back on the bed and relaxing his body. This urges Akira on—until his thighs are resting against Nano’s butt. He runs his claws through the bristled plush spotted fur, and he purrs contentedly. The face of the cute little Sanga has disappeared from his mind, though he can still hear Konoe’s song. Replaced are the kind violet eyes, shimmering before him, filled with lust and desire, soft pants huffing from soft lips, and that enticing natural scent.

The king of Sisa.

Again, Akira hesitates for a moment. Is this really okay? Is he permitted to take the king this way? Handle him like this? Feeling a blush in his cheeks creeping up to his ears, he whispers softly.

“Are you all right? Is this… what you want?”

Nano smiles—showing long fangs in response. His cheeks and chest are flushed gorgeously—and Akira thinks he has never seen a cat this attractive in his life. Is it because he has willingly submitted to Akira’s touch? Or is he just that gorgeous all on his own?

“You’re beautiful.” The thoughts escape Akira’s lips as if pulled from his mind directly, and he blushes a little in embarrassment.

Nano, in response, runs his fingers through silver hair and fur, stroking it gently—making Akira feel as though he is something precious and worthwhile. The gentle touch makes Akira wonder if this is what sex is meant to feel like—connecting to another person rather than subjugating them. If it is, he could get used to this, and his heart breaks since the king will surely be returning to his castle in the morning.

Hands suddenly grab at Akira’s ass, one at the base of his tail squeezes him roughly—prodding him to get moving. Nano’s eyes shimmer with excitement and he relaxes completely, allowing Akira to take him as he likes.

As this is Akira’s first time, he starts out hesitantly, rocking his hips. But when the brown cat meets his movement with power of his own, Akira becomes quickly overwhelmed and loses his hesitance.

Still trying to restrain himself (as well as surprised and pleased that he has become so hard and aroused so soon after his first release), he thrusts in and out of the body below him—and Nano curls around him, purring loudly as though growling. More than a physical connection, this feels emotional—and the feeling is unfamiliar and a little frightening. But it feels so good he can’t really resist. Akira returns the growling purr, feeling all of his body vibrate in harmony.

Akira switches angles slightly each time, trying to locate that special place inside the king that will make him feel it the most—and when he finds it, Nano lets him know. In fact—more than vocally, Nano lifts up his torso and bites Akira’s neck—sinking his fangs in deep. By all rights, this should be painful—but because of how aroused Akira is, all he can feel is the blood simmering beneath his skin and how it seems to rush to the surface, as though clamoring to connect with the cat beneath him. It feels like he is meant for Nano, like Nano is meant for him…

And that’s when Akira loses his restraint.

He thrusts against the spot inside the brown cat, over and over, letting his mind and body be absorbed in lust and pleasure, enjoying the feeling of Nano’s insides clamping around him as though to devour him. By all rights, Akira thinks he should feel powerful in this position—but in reality, it’s more as though taking Nano is a mutual exchange of tenderness and passion.

Fur bristles, skin sticks to skin with a fine film of sweat—and that scent floods Akira in the same way a touch would. Earth—freshly watered earth—nature—it’s primal and makes Akira lose control little by little. Akira doesn’t bother restraining his voice any longer.

It isn’t long until Nano’s breaths are panting and wheezing, and he shivers and trembles in Akira’s arms. Akira is no better—hoping he will come soon since Akira is so close. Another lick at the bite at his neck makes Akira take Nano’s lips—delving deep into his mouth, tasting a little of his own blood on Nano's tongue, grabbing the base of his tail and his cock with his hands. The brown cat trembles and sighs, releasing into Akira’s palm, his insides tightening up around the silver cat inside him—and he lets out his voice in a soft, satisfied growl.

Akira can barely wait to follow—being surrounded by Nano—his body, his scent, his sweat—he releases deep inside of him, feeling overwhelming pleasure followed by relaxation, hoping that this cat will feel his release for hours or days afterward—remembering that it was Akira who made him feel this way. Perhaps he will want to visit him again.

“Good boy,” Akira whispers softly—once he is relaxing in Nano’s arms. “If you continue to be a good boy, you may take the collar with you. Wear it the next time you see me.”

“Mmm.” Nano bristles up all his fur and purrs loudly in response, a barely visible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The brown cat is completely relaxed—and when Akira looks at his face, he looks so much younger and less stressed than before. Akira, too, feels the same—relieved and content. 

And he realizes he can no longer hear the kitten’s song. Has he stopped singing or has Akira been freed from their connection? At this point, the silver kitten doesn’t really care. He is more than satisfied—after having satisfied a king. The king.

Somehow, Akira can’t make sense that the cat lying in bed next to him, softly grooming his ears, is the nation's ruler. It doesn’t fit. This cat—he’s different than royalty. Even the silver bounty hunter carries himself more like royalty than this cat. This cat—he is a reluctant ruler. Akira wonders about his story but is too tired to ask about it. Instead, he’d much rather enjoy the soft touch of that tongue caressing his fur. It’s calming, gentle, and utterly unexpected. And he drifts off to a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Aoba is splayed out on the bed on his back, his clothes cast aside on the floor. There hasn’t been time to wash the glitter from his skin, what with Koujaku’s eagerness. Aoba doesn’t mind—Koujaku making up for anything is pretty hot.

Koujaku is still dressed and kneeling over Aoba’s body, currently tending to his neck and his nipples. He licks his chest, leaving a trail of nips from his neck down to his nipples, tracing each one with his tongue. His hands are behind Aoba’s body, cupping his ass and running his claws through the long fur on his tail.

Relieved that the brunette’s mouth is currently occupied, Aoba still flushes at the words he was murmuring and whispering before. Aoba is no innocent, but this particular client loves to whisper what he’d like to do and what is currently doing in such a dirty tone that he can’t help feeling embarrassed.

When Koujaku’s warm brown eyes peek up to meet his gaze, long plush lashes that match his long fur, Aoba is sure he is going to say something else embarrassing.

“You’re so gorgeous like this. I can’t wait to feel inside of you—warm and silky soft—like you were made just for me.”

It isn’t that the words are so incredibly dirty or indelicate. It’s just that the way he says them is so… hot. It makes Aoba sweat.

“And you look so pretty when you’re flustered,” he continues.

Aoba growls softly—knowing that Koujaku is the only person around whom he is allowed to growl. Koujaku is actually quite excited by the sounds he is causing.

“Mmm,” Aoba protests softly.

“What? I’m only making up for my absence.”

Licking a trail down Aoba’s belly, he grooms the soft blue fur just below his navel. Aoba has long fur, but his tongue isn’t as rough as Koujaku’s. The stimulation is so different from his own, and his knees fall to the bed to make room for the larger cat.

Koujaku smiles up at Aoba while he drops a single kiss on the tip of his cock, pulling another soft sound from Aoba’s lips. He squirms underneath the touch, wanting more and afraid to be further stimulated at the same time.

“Please…”

“You’re in heat. We should take our time and enjoy it, don’t you think?” Koujaku whispers. Not waiting for a response, he licks Aoba’s cock from hilt to tip and then sinks his mouth around it. The warmth from his mouth nearly sends Aoba over the edge—and his cheeks are parted gently and Koujaku presses a finger inside.

“Oh? What’s this?”

“Verg’s latest torture device,” Aoba complains. The vibrator isn’t running at the moment, and Koujaku reaches another finger inside of him, pulling it out smoothly. Aoba notices there’s a lot of lubrication behind it, dripping down his inner walls and sending a melting feeling through his body.

“But it suited you so well today,” the large cat purrs softly.

He gently uses his fingers to stretch Aoba’s opening a little more—making sure he will accommodate the larger cat’s stature. But they are both in heat, and Aoba is impatient and rather desperate. 

“You are taking too long—teasing too much,” he complains softly, squirming out from Koujaku’s large body. He pushes the brunette down on his back on the bed and climbs on top of him.

Koujaku complies, a soft sexy look on his lips, showing the tips of his fangs. Aoba roughly unties Koujaku’s tie and unbuckles his pants and strips off his shirt. The larger cat lifts up his body to help Aoba off with his pants. Aoba lowers Koujaku’s underwear enough to let his cock spring free, and then immediately straddles his hips, pushing himself on top of Koujaku’s erection. Soft sighs of pleasure leak from the blue cat’s mouth, the familiar and pleasant feeling of having the larger cat invade his depths.

Aoba doesn’t mind being on top. He knows it probably won’t last, but for now, it’s hot and interesting. He can watch Koujaku’s face—his expression softens and melts, his eyes filled with warmth and desire and eagerness. Aoba takes his time—making sure he is comfortable. Being compatible when in heat makes all the difference. And his body is more than receptive. He feels full but still in control when he starts to rock his hips gently.

Koujaku moves one of his hands from Aoba’s waist to his tail and strokes his cock with the other hand, pulling another whine from the blue cat’s lips. He feels warm inside, soft and silky, welcoming and willing.

“I’ve missed you,” whispers the prince. “I’m sorry I haven’t come around more often.”

Aoba glares down at his soft words.

“I’m sure you’ve been too busy with others to worry about me,” he growls softly, thrusting his hips even more violently, impaling himself on Koujaku’s cock. “You took what you wanted and left me.”

Koujaku moves his hand to Aoba’s face, stroking his cheek softly.

“You know that isn’t true. I wanted to take you with me…”

“And yet?”

“I wasn’t permitted. And so, I became your dance instructor to spend more time with you.”

“And the debutant. I noticed you paid him extra attention during his lessons.” Aoba still feels slightly resentful of the new kitten and all the attention he has garnered.

“You know that is only to be expected. He was only given two weeks to make his debut. Didn't you have two months?” Koujaku’s breath is rough, his words coming out in spurts. He also starts rocking his hips, matching Aoba’s rhythm. “It’s nothing to be so jealous about… though I think it’s awfully cute.”

Aoba stops moving suddenly, flooded with guilt for having jealous feelings.

“It wasn’t cute. I got him in terrible trouble.”

“You did? When?”

Aoba looks away, guilty.

“I had no idea how hard Virus and Trip had been on him—and I earned him another punishment. I made him stop dancing in front of the headmaster, and he was beaten in front of me. I tried to take his punishment—saying it was my fault once I saw his, um, condition. I think Virus spanked me once during all my training. I mean, I know I’ve gotten it good from him since then, like at my debut—but this… it’s like he has it out for the kitten personally and sets him up to fail.”

“And the kitten… how does he deal with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he submissive?”

“I guess—after he’s beaten. And even before, really. He’s a sweetheart. He is such an innocent.”

“That was my impression of him, too.”

“Will your brother treat him well, do you think? It’s just… the silver cat has been here before, and I’ve never even seen him look at another cat.”

“I… I’m not sure. I just hope Rai is upfront about his expectations and that the kitten takes him seriously. But… why are we talking about them?”

“Ah… I’m sorry. I just was thinking that maybe his interest would give us a chance—you know—to start again. It seems like your brother the king isn’t as much of a stickler about how you spend your time nor with whom.”

“And he certainly should be a better mood after tonight. So. Where were we?” Koujaku runs his claws down Aoba’s sides to his hips and gives his hips a light thrust. Aoba sighs in delight and resumes his own movement.

It isn’t long before the prince switches their positions—pinning the smaller blue cat beneath his body on his back on the mattress.

“You feel so good,” he whispers softly. 

Aoba purrs softly, letting Koujaku fuck him as he likes. He tries not to think about how many partners the brunette has had since they have last been together. It probably is close to the same number of his own partners—though he has little choice in the matter. He has to comply or risk the wrath of the headmaster.

When the prince finds Aoba’s prostate, he cries out loud in pleasure—not bothering to restrain his voice like he sometimes does. He knows Koujaku likes him vocal—and at this point, Aoba will do anything to stay by the brunette’s side. They thoroughly enjoy their reacquaintance when they spend the night together.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I am gently groomed till I wake—Rai is gliding his tongue over my ears while I’m still in bed naked. Pleased more than I can say about being woken this way, I rouse myself slowly, give a long stretch and a soft sigh, then turn over into his arms. I’m a little surprised to see he is already dressed. Could I be feeling just a little disappointment?

Has he changed his mind? Is he leaving without me? Was I disappointing to him?

My body floods with a sudden flash of fear, knowing exactly what will be happening to me—no, what will be done to me—if I don’t leave with him today. I can’t stay here!

“Are you leaving?” I ask softly, struggling to keep my voice calm. I enjoyed last night immensely—but I’m sure Virus, Trip, the students, and teachers waiting for this very moment won’t have my pleasure or consent on their minds.

“I need to speak to the headmaster. Get up and get dressed. I’ll be back for you in a little while. But first… I want to ascertain a few things.”

I perk up my ears and glance up at his face.

“Yes?”

“I am not the kind of cat who has a lot of demands. But if I will be training you, it’s important for your safety (and mine, to a degree) that you obey me.”

“Okay?” Obey him? What exactly does he have in mind, I wonder?

“Your powers as a Sanga are still new and stabilizing. Unintended effects from an inexperienced Sanga's song are common if you don’t pay close attention. I will help train you but in return, I require your obedience.”

“All right,” I say softly. Obeying him yesterday wasn’t so bad. I’m sure I can do this when he’s training me.

“Even when it seems like you’d rather do something else, you must obey. That is all.”

“Of course. I can do that.”

“So, I have a single command for you now.”

“Anything,” I murmur. As long as it gets me out of here, I will do anything.

“It’s important.” He sounds very serious, and I wonder what on earth he might ask of me.

“I’ll do anything you want if you get me out of here.” He smiles at my response.

“Don’t sing for anyone but me. Not under any circumstances.”

It sounds strange for him to ask me such a thing. I don’t ever really intend to sing for anyone but him anyway, so I find it slightly confusing. But it’s an order I can willingly obey, I think.

“Okay.”

“Save all your song for me, kitten. It is filled with power, and you don’t know how you might affect another cat. You affect others with that song because your talent isn’t yet well-honed, and it may influence the wrong cat at the wrong time and get you in trouble. Plus, your being in season isn’t helping matters.”

A flash of Akira’s face floods my mind, and my heart is stabbed with guilt.

“I-i r-really didn’t mean to s-sing for Akira,” I murmur.

“It’s all right. It’s just… I set him up with the king, but I know he still thinks highly of you. I don’t blame him after hearing your song. It was natural to connect with him since he is a Touga. But he isn’t the only Touga here.”

“I understand,” I say.

“I’m only asking this of you because it’s important. Specifically for your safety, while you are still learning to control your song,” Rai continues, and he brushes his claws through the fur on my ear and then nudges my chin so I look up at him. “What I mean is, I really don’t want you to sing for anyone but me. If you do, I will take it as disobedience and there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

He sounds firm—almost harsh, I think—but he must have a good reason. His tone makes a small shiver skate down my nape into my shoulders. A tiny glimpse of who he is as a bounty hunter is making an appearance for the first time. Out of nervous anxiety, I agree and nod my head.

“I understand. I won’t sing for anyone but you again.” I mean it, too—especially if this is what it will take to get me out of this school.

“Good kitten,” Rai replies, petting my ears gently. He seems soothed, and I sure do enjoy it when he praises me. “Now—wash up and get dressed. I’ll be back for you in about half an hour.” He kisses my lips—gently—and then gets out of bed. He pulls on his boots and straightens his hair, and then throws what looks like a bit of a heated glance over his shoulder on his way out the door.

I don’t get up right away. Instead, after the door closes, I stretch out long and lean and purr softly, grooming my fur but only enough straighten it out. I still want to smell the silver cat’s scent on me. After a few minutes, I get out of bed—and my lower body is strangely sore. It didn’t really hurt last night, but where he entered me is tender. My muscles are stiff, and I realize I need a shower. I still have the leftovers of both his and my passion stuck to my ass and stomach.

After washing up, while I am getting dressed, I happen to hear shouting in the yard outside the window. I’m not really a nosy person, but it’s weird to hear people shouting at all at Applebaum’s—Virus would call it “unseemly”—so I take a peek.

To my surprise, the cat yelling is Akira.

His fur has completely bristled and he is yelling at the top of his lungs because the fencing instructor, Shiki, is manhandling him, pulling at his clothes right there in the garden! His uniform waistcoat is already in a pile at his feet. As I watch in horror, Akira’s shirt is torn open, the buttons flying every which way—and I realize I do not want to see the silver kitten publicly raped or punished.

Also, I don’t have to. I can help. I’m a Sanga. Rai’s earlier demand that I not sing for anyone else has floated away from my mind, Akira’s wellbeing and safety taking priority.

I’m not entirely dressed—just wearing my pants and my shirt is only half-way buttoned, but I start to sing anyways—and then I break into a run, barefoot, out the bedroom door and down the hallway to the backyard, where Akira is struggling with Shiki. I just pray I’m not too late!

When I reach the top of the steps right outside the back door, Akira’s shirt has been pulled off his body, exposing his muscular chest and pale skin—yet he is still actively resisting Shiki who has closed his fist around his throat. Akira looks surprised to see me—and even more surprised and delighted to hear my song—and I am filled with relief that I can be of some help. With me at his side, Shiki won’t stand a chance—I hope. But the fencing instructor is still trying to subdue the silver kitten.

“What are you doing out here, kitten?" Shiki addresses me. "Come to join the party? You should have been handed over to me upon the second of your arrival and yet the headmaster saved you for the bounty hunter. How was it? It couldn’t have been that good for you if you’re out here singing for my dog now.”

My fur bristles and I’m insulted—both at his rudeness toward me and the fact that he called Akira a dog. And then—I realize I am currently disobeying Rai’s single order to me. What he just told me not to do, I am doing loudly and publicly. But I can’t exactly stop now—Akira is in danger and he needs my help.

And yet… my song isn’t affecting him as much as it has in the past. The light from my body is not going directly to Akira in tendrils as it has before—it surrounds him in a soft, steamy cloud. And it isn’t giving him the power I think it should. Either that or the fencing instructor is much stronger than I expected. Even when I keep singing, attracting attention from every window on the second floor where the students live, Akira cannot seem to escape his grasp.

“Get back inside, Konoe!” He yells at me, making my ears flatten. Doesn’t he know I’m trying to help?! And that fencing instructor is about to do something horrible to him!

All of this takes place in a span of about five minutes—and I don’t stop my song nor do I notice the door swinging open behind me. Faster than my eye can process, a brown blur speeds past me, moving my fur in its wake, and interferes between Akira and Shiki. Shiki looks incredibly surprised—and he actually looks terrified for a second, which is a strange face for him to be making. It’s the king who is getting between them, pulling Akira from Shiki’s grasp and knocking Shiki to the ground in a single blow without hesitation.

I’ve never seen a cat move so quickly. It’s a little eerie. But Akira is safe now, in the king’s arms—stunned, but safe—and so I feel like I can stop my song now. I try to settle myself.

However, before I stop it completely, my ear is grabbed harshly and pulled. It feels like a gloved hand touching me. The sudden pain stops my song in an instant, and I’m also flooded with guilt for disobeying Rai’s single rule. It must be Virus pulling my ear, but his scent is different—almost pleasant—and I don’t remember him ever wearing gloves before. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach when my chin is grabbed by another gloved hand and I see Rai standing there. He’s hurting me with the firm grasp on my ear—and his fur has bristled completely, his pupil narrowed to an angry slit, and he’s growling.

“Didn’t you hear me?” His voice is very quiet and terrifying. “I just told you not to sing for anyone else. What do you think you’re doing?”

Behind him at the door, Virus and Trip—and soon, Koujaku and Aoba—appear, hands on hips or on their foreheads, like they’ve witnessed me committing some kind of crime.

“Akira was being hurt! Shiki was about to—”

“I see that. But that doesn’t explain what the hell you thought you were doing. You disobeyed my direct order,” Rai growls at me. He is furious—really, he’s mad at me for having helped a friend!

“He protected me! When you weren’t here for me, when you left me here to suffer—Akira protected me!” I burst out. I’m angry, too. My song was an automatic response, not something I planned or thought out well in advance. I just felt the need to help Akira when I saw Shiki handling him so roughly. “It was the least I could do! He didn’t deserve to be—”

“Regardless of what the silver kitten deserves or does not deserve, it was not your business. You should keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you. Unless… you do not care to keep my command.” Rai glares down at me, moving his hand from my ear to my shoulder, and I flinch from the strength of it. He’s frightening me—maybe he actually is the cat that Aoba and Akira have warned me about. I just haven’t seen it till now. “Did you change your mind? You’d rather be left here? Because if you want to come with me, I already told you I demand only one thing: obedience.”

“I-i, um… Wait… I do want to come with you,” I stammer, lowering my gaze to his boots. “Please. Don’t leave me.” Tears spring to the surface of my eyes, and I feel horribly guilty and confused. I thought I was doing the right thing!

“I warned you that kitten is a handful, sir,” Virus’ smooth voice sinks into my ear, making my fur stand on end and Rai’s bristle fully. “He’s only been with us a few weeks, and so I’m afraid a lot of discipline will be required.”

“Come with me,” Rai growls softly, and he yanks my arm, pulling me behind him into the house, back to the room we shared last night. I’m so confused by this violent treatment—but in this room, it smells so nice—our scents have combined. I really want to be with him, but not like this!

“I-i’m sorry,” I stammer. “I-i didn’t e-even mean to s-sing—it j-just spilled out when I saw the fencing instructor hurting Akira…” I am pushed down to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. I’m afraid to look at the silver cat for the quiet fury in his tone, obvious in his stance.

“I’m well aware. Did you notice your song didn’t have the intended effect?” Rai asks, arms crossed.

I look up to meet his gaze, my ears bristled and flat. I did notice. My song did not give Akira the power I expected. How did Rai know? How could he tell? His eyebrow quirks up.

“I heard you singing. That was my song. It was intended for me. I suppose I should be pleased that even in that situation—making stupid and reckless decisions that contradicted my direct order—that your song came for me.”

“I-i’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”

“I don’t really care about your intentions. I understand why you were singing for the silver kitten. But it could have backfired. What would you have done if Shiki had received your song instead of me? He is a Touga as well, and he wants your song for himself.”

My skin shivers. I hadn’t even thought of the possibility.

“I didn’t think—”

“Your lack of thinking is exactly the problem here. I know you’re young and impulsive. But I had no idea you were this foolish.”

My fur bristles in shame and anger, and I look down at his boots. 

“So. I haven’t heard yet. Are you willing to meet my terms? Or shall I leave you behind? Perhaps you’d rather take your chances here, at this school than sing for me.” His voice is so even and calm—and that is even worse than being spoken to in anger. He’s implying he would just as easily leave me here as take me with him. Do I really mean so little to him?

My chest hitches in a sob—despite my best efforts to hold it back. I’m sobbing—in front of this elegant silver cat!

“Please!” I beg, tears spilling down my face, and words flow from my mouth like a river. “I want to come with you—but not if you don’t want me. I don’t want to be left here—I will be raped and beaten and taken advantage of. Please—don’t leave me here. I will make it up to you. I’m sorry.”

Rai sighs heavily but still does not approach.

“Please.”

“Let me ask you, kitten. Do you want to come with me, or are you just looking for a way out of the life you have ahead of you?”

I glare up at him, unable to contain my tears and anger.

“What about you?! Do you want me just for my song?! And only if I obey your every whim and demand?! I thought you were kind! I thought you cared about me! I thought… I thought you liked me!”

“Kitten, calm down.” Rai sighs again, and he approaches the bed and strokes my ears. The soft leather feels soothing and cool against my fur. His fingers brush away the tears on my cheeks. “What I want isn’t the issue here. You need to know that I am not one to issue orders without having a very good reason to do so. What do you think would have happened to you and your friend if your song’s power had accidentally reached Shiki?”

I swallow and don’t meet his eye. I don’t want to think about it. But my chin is nudged softly, making me look up at him. Damn, the leather feels nice on my skin. It’s distracting! He looks earnest—and a little concerned, too. Maybe he does care about me?

“What do you think would have happened?” He repeats the question when I don’t answer. His voice is calm, but I can still feel his frustration. I am frustrated, too—because I don’t know what exactly would have happened, but I know it would have been bad. I’m frustrated with myself for not even considering the possibility Shiki could have been influenced by the power of my song. Maybe I really am stupid and reckless!

“I… I don’t know.”

“I have a pretty good idea. I know Shiki from when he was a bounty hunter. He would love to have a Sanga like you. And he would have used your power first against the silver kitten and then to subjugate you. He could have massacred the guests staying here—though even with your power, I don’t think he would stand a chance against my brothers and me. Even so, the gods only know what he would have done to you.”

He leans in and touches my cheek gently when he sees me shiver with revulsion.

“Understand, I don’t issue orders that have no logic behind them, kitten.”

A few more tears spill down my face—and my ear is sore where he grabbed it. But I don’t say anything. He’s right. I fucked up. I feel awful. I need to make it right! I can’t be left here! He’s got to be better than Virus and Trip—and those students—and Shiki. Gods, if I stay here now, I will become Shiki's prey!

“I need an assurance from you.”

I look up and meet his icy blue gaze. He doesn’t sound mean or cruel—just incredibly matter-of-fact. My breaths are coming loud and fast, and I nod my head.

“I want to be sure you are willing to obey me. I promise I will not ask anything unreasonable from you.”

“I-i promise,” I stammer quietly. “I w-will do anything. Please, d-don’t leave me behind.”

“I want you to show me.”

At the strange tone in his voice, I look up.

“I want to see that you are willing to pay for your disobedience and submit to the consequences.”

Consequences? This is frightening me—but what is worse? Being left here to Virus, Trip, Shiki and the rest, or submitting to this elegant silver cat? Of course, I know the answer. Rai is reasonable. And in truth, he did warn me.

I sigh a shuddering breath, trying to get myself under control.

“Bring me my riding crop.” I see him nod his head toward his equipment hanging on the rack next to the door. A shiver of fear rushes down my spine, but I stand up and obey—my legs moving woodenly. I pick up the crop—it’s not very heavy and it feels flexible, the end is tipped with a leather tongue the width about three of my fingers. My body starts to tremble nervously. I wonder if it’s such a good idea to hand this off to him when I know very well what he intends to do with it.

But it has to be better than whatever Virus and Trip have in mind. We are in private, after all. So at least my dignity is being saved. And Rai was so kind to me last night.

I hand him the crop with both hands as though it’s an offering, and I wipe my tears when I have my hands free.

“Walk over to the chair.”

I obey, keeping my eyes down, standing silently in front of the chair he's gestured to. That low, commanding voice sinks into my ears and makes me obey.

“Lower your pants and your underwear to your knees.”

Another shudder crawls up my spine—and this one is mixed with something other than fear. I think it’s lust or desire, and it should repulse me. Have I been trained to enjoy pain? Or do I just crave his touch so much that I will submit to any treatment to get it? I obey, feeling my ears blush hot and red.

I flinch slightly when my ears are brushed gently with his gloved fingers. They feel cool and soothing.

“Climb up on the seat if the chair on your knees and bend over the backrest.”

I’m still utterly ashamed—of my behavior, my disobedience, my current nudity and display—and yet I’m still bristling with indignation and anger—he shouldn’t treat me like this! I apologized! It was an accident! Despite my best efforts to control myself, a soft growl escapes my lips.

“Kitten, do you understand why I am punishing you?” His gloves caress my bare ass, slipping between my cheeks and making my fur stand on end. Certainly, that touch feels pleasant. Unlike what is surely coming.

“It was an accident!” I burst out. “Please—I didn’t mean—”

“Kitten,” his voice floats softly and tenderly into my ear, and he continues to pet me, grabbing the base of my tail and making my body feel strange and hot. “I believe I already told you this isn’t about your intentions. This is about your actions—your deliberate disobedience. I want to know if you understand why I am punishing you.”

I nod my head.

“Go on. Tell me.”

I swallow thickly, unwilling to speak at first—and I am enjoying the touch on my tail a little more than I would like. The leather pulls my fur just a little, and it feels oddly nice. Finally, I open my mouth—and my tone is utterly pouty though very soft. I know I should sound more submissive, but I can’t. I feel this is unjust! I mean, I know he told me to obey and there would be consequences if I didn’t. But I didn’t mean to disobey—and nothing bad happened. Still, I speak, saying the words I know he wants to hear.

“Because I disobeyed your direct order, sir. You told me not to sing for anyone but you, and I sang for Akira.”

“Good boy,” he says, and his words send a shiver of delight through my body. What the hell is wrong with me?! “A physical reminder serves well to discourage future defiance, especially in kittens your age. Please grab hold of the legs of the chair. I don’t want to see your hands.”

A small meow escapes my lips, but I obey. It stretches out my back and lower body, making my ass stick out behind me. I’m ashamed to be doing this—but again, I remind myself of the alternative, which would be Virus and Trip’s punishment: something humiliating and public and unbearable. My breath is gasping nervously, and I shiver slightly but am unable to move away when I feel the soft touch of leather against my skin.

And then—the whipping begins. It’s much faster and more brutal than I expect—alternating between my left and right cheeks from the fullest part of my butt to where my thighs connect. It stings right away, though it doesn’t jolt my body around as a paddle does. I can’t move away from the blows or protect myself, and I dig my claws into the chair’s legs to keep my hands in place and maintain the position.

I can’t tell if he’s working hard to punish me or not—but I don’t hear anything in the room aside from my soft cries growing louder and louder and the embarrassing snap of the whip against my backside. As I expect, the blows to my upper thighs are the worst and make me scream in pain. Tears are falling—and I feel utterly defeated.

Because I’m unable to move but am not restrained, my mind goes to a weird place. I wonder… perhaps I deserve this. He asked only one thing of me and I defied him less than thirty minutes after he asked. I deserve this! This is indeed a justified punishment—and if I can suffer through it, he will be soothed. He will still take me with him.

“Please—ah!—I’m—ah!—so—ah!—sorry,” I beg though my tears and cries. My ass stings and burns—but really, it’s nothing compared to other punishments Virus has carried out. It’s incredibly painful, but it’s the shame of having disobeyed in the first place that makes it so hard to take. I don’t cover myself, though my claws are really wanting to unhook from the chair’s wooden legs. My tail is bristled and fuzzy and swaying softly.

Something in my chest lurches unpleasantly. What is this? It’s painful—and then I know what it is when a song spills from my body. Like vomit, almost—unexpected and violent—my entire body lifts off the chair for a moment and light spills from my fingers. I can feel in the ends of the tendrils like fingers, playing in silky strands of hair and soft fur—and the light drifts over to Rai, as though to bolster his power and support him—even while he is punishing me! It doesn’t occur to me till later that this may not be a healthy thing—basically, I am offering him my strength to punish my body.

A soft, pleased sigh spills from the silver cat, and he slows down the spanking, landing four more strokes on each cheek and where my thighs and butt connect. I don’t move, even after the punishment is finished—and then, I purr loudly when I feel his gloved hand stroking me. It feels utterly tender and gentle—almost loving, in fact—when he runs his fingers over my reddened skin. The leather feels cool, and it pulls at the fur at the base of my tail.

I think Rai is purring, too.

“You did very well, kitten. I’m soothed—and you have taken your punishment well.” His voice is soft and slightly heated, laced with a purr.

My song is still ringing out in the room—gently but insistent. I need to touch him—I want to bury my nose in his hair. And I don’t resist the urge. I release my claws from the chair and sit up. Ignoring my current state of undress and my disheveled self, I throw myself into his arms, pressing my nose to his chest and sucking up his scent with my ragged breathing. I’m soaking his shirt with my tears.

“Forgive me—I’m so sorry—please—don’t leave me here. I want to be with you,” I beg in a whisper. “Please!”

“Hush, kitten—calm yourself. You’re forgiven. You did very, very well. I’m pleased,” Rai whispers into my ear. The words and his voice calm me immediately. I feel much less anxious and there is something weirdly submissive about how my body is behaving.

Rai just punished me—and yet, I do not feel resentful. I feel… good. I feel at peace. Like this is where I belong. Why is this so different from how I am treated here? I don’t know, but I do know I want nothing more than to be with this cat. Not just to get away from this school. I want to please him and earn his trust. I want him to praise me. It makes my heart ache.

“You sang for me. You offered me your song—I’m touched, kitten,” he whispers into my ear before nipping the tip gently. “I could see when you submitted yourself to me. You did very well. You enchant me.”

He continues brushing and kissing away my tears—and I can’t help my body’s response. I’m hot, almost as hot as I was yesterday—and I crave his touch. I want to feel his skin against mine, but I can’t because his clothes are in the way. Plus, it would be too bold for me to insist he touch me any more or undress.

“You’re still suffering from symptoms of heat, aren’t you? Let’s get out of here. We have a bit of a ride ahead of us, but when we get home, I will take care of you.”

More than anything—that is what I want. His words feel like a touch, and I allow him to pull up my underwear and button my pants. My chest is warm and full—and I can’t wait to spend more time with him. I want to please him. I want him to be happy with me and be proud of me. I can never remember feeling like this about anyone else before, either. 

My tears are soon dried, and he offers me a drink of juice.

“Have some juice before we go.”

I nod my head and take it gratefully. Then he helps me dress, putting on my boots, waistcoat, and jacket and leads me from the room.

Chapter Text

Akira wakes alone in the guest room—surprised that his guest from last night is no longer with him. The king’s clothes are gone—as is the collar he was wearing. Akira can’t help smiling to himself just a little—wondering if the king is wearing the collar back to the palace and if he will think about their time together every time he feels it around his neck.

But no—Akira can’t be that hopeful. He is much too practical. And he needs to get on with his day. He knows that any minute Virus will come in to bawl him out for some stupid reason. And so, after a nice long stretch, Akira puts on his uniform—which has been so thoughtfully left for him like it always is when he serves a guest.

Still, though… He can’t seem to stop thinking about the king. He has the most lovely eyes—and he’s sure he saw them change from gray to blue to violet. And there was something so wonderful about the way he moved and his scent…

Pulling himself together, he doesn’t allow his fantasy to go further. He can’t be thinking about some royal person swooping in here for his rescue. If anything, that’s the little Sanga’s job, not his. And Aoba’s, too, for that matter. And look how well that went for Aoba? And Konoe… well. He certainly has his hands full with the bounty hunter. Akira can recognize a violent killer when he sees one.

Part of his heart still feels soft whenever the soft blonde kitten comes to mind. It must be a side effect of that song. But he did his duty to Konoe—not for the bounty hunter’s sake, but for the kitten himself. He made sure that no one else (particularly Shiki) discovered that special talent of his. But now? If the bounty hunter didn’t fall for his talent and doesn’t take him away from here, surely the little Sanga’s fate is doomed.

No, wait. Not doomed. That will allow them to connect again. Surely—Konoe will want to pair with him on a more permanent basis. Especially if the only other option is Shiki.

Sighing softly, Akira slips on his shoes. Talent. What is talent? Sure, certainly Konoe can sing and Aoba can dance pretty well. But Akira’s talent? It came in handy last night, but really it’s just a made-up personality he uses for the stage. That isn’t how it came in handy last night, though. It just sort of got things going. In real, every-day life here at Applebaum’s, that personality has no place.

He brushes his fingers through his shaggy hair and then gets up. He’d better get a quick shower before it gets too much later. So he heads out of the room, throwing a wistful look behind him. Last night was probably the best sexual experience he has ever had. He hopes that it won’t be the best of his life—or the only positive one. Not that the Sanga isn’t fun—it’s just the consequences for playing with him were so very steep.

His head is in a daze as he wanders toward the staircase, but his arm is yanked before he can set his foot on the first step. And he recognizes the iron grip of the hand grabbing him and dragging him toward the back door. A shudder of horror and apprehension flood his body, and he puts himself on full alert. When he looks up, he’s not surprised to see the fencing instructor’s back in front of him.

Even if he digs in his heels, grabbing onto stair railing and doorknobs, Shiki just roughly drags him out of the house, not saying a word till he is at the top of the steps that overlook the garden. He gives Akira a firm push—making him fall down several stairs—he’s sure he’s bruised his arm but nothing feels broken. Akira knows better than to remain on the ground, and he climbs back to his feet quickly.

“Are you pleased with yourself, dog?” Shiki growls at him.

He’s jealous! Shiki is angry and jealous that he didn’t get to spend last night with him or Konoe. And Akira can’t prevent a soft smirk from appearing on his face. The fencing instructor is jealous of the king! And a prince! He’s so full of shit.

“What’s with that insolent look?” Shiki’s low voice crawls across the ground—and before he can process it, the taller black cat is standing right in front of him. Reflexively, he lowers his stance. Neither are armed, of course. Akira hates to think of what he has planned—outside in the garden where all the students upstairs can see.

He grabs Akira’s vest when he doesn’t get out of reach in time, tearing it off his body with a sudden jerk. His fur bristles defensively and his claws draw. He growls low in his throat.

“What is it? Do you want to strip yourself here? Then do it. Quickly,” Shiki snarls. “Perhaps then your headmaster won’t punish you later for damaging your precious little uniform.”

Akira isn’t going to do any such thing. He will take any punishment from Virus—especially now that the kitten won’t be here to punish in his place. The worst he could do now is humiliate him and beat him—and both those things are preferable to what Shiki has plans for. So he doesn’t move—except to try to back away slowly from Shiki’s weirdly long reach.

But then, he hears something—ringing softly in the back of his mind—a soft, gentle whisper. Is it the little Sanga? When he looks up, he doesn’t see him, but he can definitely feel the soft melody. While he is distracted, Shiki reaches out to the neck of his shirt and gives it a firm yank. It rips open, sending buttons flying every which way—and Akira bristles again.

Even so, he can hear the little Sanga singing. Where is he? And why does he sound so quiet?

“Oy—pay attention to your surroundings, idiot,” Shiki growls at him while Akira’s attention is focused on the back door. He is waiting for the kitten to appear—but part of him can’t quite believe that the bounty hunter would allow him to get involved.

Unless the bounty hunter is somehow occupied.

The back door swings open, and standing at the top of the steps in a half-buttoned shirt, his uniform trousers, bare feet, and messy hair, is the kitten. He looks different—his face, while worried and anxious, looks somehow softer, a little tamer than Akira remembers. And he is singing—

When he appears, Shiki tears the shirt from Akira’s body. And Akira knows that the Sanga’s song has changed. It floats from his body like a mist or steam, and some of it reaches him, but not with the same powerful force as before. Has the bounty hunter done something to him? Is it because he fucked the kitten while he was in heat, and now Konoe feels a stronger bond toward Rai than toward him?

Shiki’s hand closes around Akira’s neck, distracting him from the palpable relief  he feels in the little Sanga’s presence.

“What are you doing out here, kitten?" Shiki addresses Konoe. "Come to join the party? You should have been handed over to me upon the second of your arrival and yet the headmaster saved you for the bounty hunter. How was it? It couldn’t have been that good for you if you’re out here singing for my dog now.”

Konoe bristles, looking (rather cutely) offended—but Akira wonders if he is all right. A look of anxious guilt crosses his face, and that unnerves Akira. He also seems to be aware of his song not imbued with the same power, and he can’t hide his confusion.

And this is the worst place for him to be right now—in front of Shiki—when he is vulnerable and frightened.

“Get back inside, Konoe!” Akira yells at him, and then the door behind him opens again. Several cats come out—one moving faster than Akira can see—and it isn’t till his body is yanked away from Shiki’s and he’s on his back in the grass that he realizes with relief and surprise that it’s the king. He is still here—he came back for him!

The king and his two brothers, Virus, and Aoba have rushed out—probably called by Konoe’s song.

And now more than ever, Konoe is about to discover the bounty hunter's true nature—Akira sees the silver cat’s expression—he is furious. Akira knows Konoe must stop singing. He can’t be responsible for whatever the bounty hunter will do. The kitten’s soft fluffy ear is grabbed harshly, trapping his song in his throat, and he bristles up even more.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Rai’s voice is quiet and calm, but Konoe ducks in fear. “I just told you not to sing for anyone else. What do you think you’re doing?”

Konoe quickly makes an excuse—his voice stammering soft and submissive—but Akira can feel the bounty hunter’s rage simmering beneath his skin. Perhaps he was kind to the kitten last night, but now, Konoe is about to witness his wrath up close and personal.

“Akira was being hurt! Shiki was about to—” Konoe’s tone is pleading and desperate.

“I see that. But that doesn’t explain what the hell you thought you were doing. You disobeyed my direct order,” Rai growls.

“He protected me! When you weren’t here for me, when you left me here to suffer—Akira protected me!” Konoe burst out angrily. “It was the least I could do! He didn’t deserve to be—”

“Regardless of what the silver kitten deserves or does not deserve, it was not your business. You should keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you. Unless… you do not care to keep my command.” Rai glares down at the kitten, who flinches when the hand on his ear moves to his shoulder. Recognition and fear shimmer in the kitten’s pretty face. “Did you change your mind? You’d rather be left here? Because if you want to come with me, I already told you I demand only one thing: obedience.”

“I-i, um… Wait… I do want to come with you,” the kitten stammers, lowering his gaze submissively. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

“I warned you that kitten is a handful, sir,” Virus adds, less than helpfully. “He’s only been with us a few weeks, and so I’m afraid a lot of discipline will be required.”

“Come with me,” Rai growls softly, and he yanks Konoe’s arm, pulling him behind him into the house. A sickening feeling falls in Akira's gut when he watches the bounty hunter drag the Sanga back into the house. Akira has lost track of what has been going on around him because of the little Sanga’s action. But he hears a loud exhale—like a sigh—sound next to his ear.

“He will be fine,” Nano says. “My brother is fair. He is strict but fair.” Then he raises his voice, addressing Virus. “I don’t believe you have the power to keep this kitten safe here. He will be coming home with me and employed in my service.”

Akira’s ears perk up, unable to believe his ears, and Shiki growls from his place on the ground.

“Your Highness, this is most unusual. We require advance notice for lending our students out to various facilities—”

“The palace is not one of your various facilities. And I am not borrowing him. I am removing him from your care for his safety. The safety of my subjects is my primary concern.”

Virus doesn’t know what to say—and shuts his mouth for once. For a few minutes at least, until he opens it again.

“Your Highness, His Grace the prince compensated our institution for the loss of the other kitten.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s only fair that you also—”

Nano doesn’t raise his voice, but its tone is icy.

“What would be fair is for you to treat innocent kittens as though they were something other than mere goods for sale. I will not listen to you lecture me about what is fair. Collect his things. I’ll wait.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Go. Do as your king commands you.”

Akira glances at the top of the steps—and Koujaku and Aoba are standing right outside the door as well. Aoba does not look pleased—at all—in fact, Akira can almost hear his soft growl from where he is. He just witnessed one prince walking off with the new debutante, and now the king defending Akira. And he is what? Worthless? Although, from Akira’s point of view, he can see the dance instructor stroking his fur softly.

And then a sharp pain hits Akira’s chest. He can hear—or maybe feel—the little Sanga crying out—rhythmically like he did the night he was punished for allowing Akira to touch him. The bounty hunter is punishing him! Again and again—Akira’s chest throbs painfully—and then he hears the song spill from the little kitten. It’s a submissive song—and it actually is meant for Rai’s ears—even though Rai is the one punishing him. Is Konoe actually submitting to the brutality of the silver cat?

The smaller silver kitten can’t believe it. A shudder of revulsion courses down his spine.

“He will be treated fairly,” Nano says softly. “Do not worry about him. My brother has finally found a mate.”

Akira’s ears flatten at that remark—but isn’t it true that Sanga who have sung for their Touga during heat are more permanently bonded? It hurts his heart, and he looks down at his feet, simply letting Konoe’s song permeate his being.

Really, is that all that Konoe believes he is worth?

Chapter Text

I follow the elegant silver cat down the hall and out to the stables. I had assumed he arrived in a carriage yesterday, based on how he was dressed—but then I guess he had a riding crop with him, so I should have known. I’m limping a little as I follow him—my ass and my thighs are really sore, but my heart is much more at ease.

I wonder, however… is following him, obeying him, really such a good idea?

Honestly, I didn’t mean to disobey his single order to me. But if I had to do it again, wouldn’t I still sing for Akira if I saw him in danger? I don’t think I had a choice. I kind of want to know what Rai thinks I should have done. I think I know. I think he thinks I should have kept to my own business and let Shiki do whatever he liked to Akira. But I can’t imagine doing that. Not after what we have been through together.

And then… the difference between how my song felt for Akira—sort of misty and vague—and how it just sounded for Rai—strong, forceful, attracted to him despite how he was treating me… I don’t know. I wonder if I’ve somehow gotten in over my head.

This isn’t, of course, the first time I’ve had such a thought. Really, I got in over my head the minute I decided to follow Tokino to his home in Ransen without his father's permission and escaped my home village. I sigh softly, and Rai turns around to look at me. He doesn’t stop walking, so I don’t either. He seems to notice my limp and he gives me a soft smile. My fur bristles in spite of myself. I can’t believe he spanked me. Well. I guess I can. I don’t know what I was expecting. But how is this my life now? I don’t understand.

Rai climbs up onto the back of his horse—and I’m slightly surprised to see that his horse is black, not white. It’s a large, elegant black stallion with a long mane and fluffy tail. He even has extra puffs of fur at his hooves, giving him an interesting silhouette. I’m somewhat nervous around horses, but he minds his master very well. Actually, I can't help noticing the Rai's horse is even better behaved than I am.

“Come on up,” Rai says, offering me his hand. 

I put my foot in the stirrup and allow him to pull me up into the saddle in front of him. The minute my ass touches the seat, though—all my fur bristles with pain. My ears flood with heat—I’m utterly ashamed to be remembering that embarrassing punishment. It feels so childish. He wouldn’t have done it if I had managed to comply with his command not to sing for anyone else. I lower my face and my ears, but my tail is bristled and won’t be still.

“Are you sore?” Rai whispers into my ear after he urges the horse on to a trot. 

“Mmm.” I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m too ashamed.

“It’s supposed to hurt,” Rai continues softly. His voice sounds utterly indulgent, though—soft and sexy. “It’s supposed to serve as a deterrent—a reminder not to disobey me again. It seems to be working.” I don’t miss a soft chuckle, nor do I miss his hand brushing my backside before he pulls me closer to him and onto his lap.

It feels warm there—with him—despite my embarrassment and shame. I want to feel close to him, and my body feels strange and aroused, despite or maybe because of the pain and heat radiating from my ass.

“Where are we going?” I ask softly.

“We are headed to the country house. There’s lots of room there and privacy—we should be able to train you in peace without interruption.”

My fur bristles up when he talks of training me. I wonder—not for the first time—if this, going with him, was really the wisest choice. I think I got a glimpse of who he really is—a bounty hunter who is used to doing his job well and unimpeded—this morning. What if I can’t please him? I am worried.

Also, I am very worried about my body. I am hot and feverish and achy. The ride is long and painful—my body jostling around unpleasantly, and my ass still sore. I wonder if I am welted from the crop. I can’t help but be reminded constantly of the crop—since I can see him use it to get the horse to trot and then gallop. He has the most elegant hands—the high-quality leather gloves accent the length of his fingers.

The gloves—the leather—I can’t help remembering how they pulled at the fur on the base of my tail this morning, how they felt cool against my skin, how soothing they were. Both soothing and somehow also not soothing. I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe arousing? And then I can’t stop thinking about how he touched me last night. It was so tender—he deliberately held himself back. I can still remember when my song spilled out how my heart and body were flooded with lust and desire—his lust and desire—for me. I was overwhelmed. And I’m currently unable to stop thinking about it. That’s when I feel a soft touch on my tail, right at the base. It’s a soft leather glove. 

His hand is gently massaging my tail—brushing the fur backward with his fingers and grasping me, surrounding me. It distracts me something fierce—so much that I even forget the hot pain still radiating from my skin.

“Hmm,” he hums in my ear. “You smell so nice.”

“Um… how much longer is the ride?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and quiet, hoping I can speak without gasping in between.

“Why do you ask? Are you uncomfortable?”

“N-not exactly uncomfortable…” I am, but I don't want to complain. My ears are licked softly—first the left then the right—and I hear his tongue clicking softly before he continues grooming me. It sends a bolt of lust down my spine that pools in my hips. I’m sure he can feel my body jerk.

“Are we going to have to stop?” He hums softly into my ear.

My ears bristle—slightly in fear—because I wonder if my response displeases him. Is he going to punish me for acting out like this? Really, though—isn’t this my function? I’m confused and I don’t understand what he wants.

“N-no… I-i w-will behave,” I stammer softly.

“Oh, you will behave.”

My body stiffens slightly and he takes his mouth away from my ears.

“Oy, what’s wrong.” He doesn’t ask it like a question—it’s more of a demand for me to reply than anything else.

“N-nothing,” I stammer again, and I am embarrassed by my body’s reaction.

I can feel him insisting on my reply—even though I’m facing away from him. I can feel his eye boring into the back of my neck, waiting expectantly.

“I-i’m sorry,” I say, my ears drooping miserably.

“You’re apologizing again. Why?”

“I-i d-don’t want to displease you.”

Another click of his tongue.

“Tsk, how on earth do you think you would be displeasing me?”

“D-didn’t you just threaten to stop?” My ears bristle. I don’t really want to remind him. “I a-assumed it was b-because I’d done something to displease you.”

At those words, Rai slows the horse to a walk. We are in the forest right now, and he leads the horse off the main path. Now my body starts to tremble slightly. I think I am afraid, but perhaps what I’m feeling is closer to anticipation. Regardless, I know I want him to touch me more.

We wander off the path into a small glade—a soft clearing of trees—and there are only the sounds of the leaves in the breeze and the soft song of birds. The wind is soft and warm. And it smells so nice—clean and fresh—and despite it being early summer, like freshly fallen snow. It’s as if Rai’s scent will cool me off. I shiver slightly.

“Listen.” Rai climbs down from the horse and offers me a hand.

Shit. He’s serious. He actually did stop. But I can’t do anything but obey at this point. I’m unsure of what exactly I’ve done to warrant a punishment, but I have already said I would do anything to stay with him. My fingers are shaking when he helps me down from the horse. I look down at my feet, feeling heat pulsing through my ears and my fur standing on end. I'm already embarrassed at the state of my body and will be even more ashamed at whatever punishment he has in mind.

“You’re trembling.”

My chin is nudged softly—by those smooth gloves. Leather against my chin. It feels cool to the touch. I wonder if my face is red, but I ignore my worry and meet the pale blue gaze examining me.

“Do you fear me?”

“N-no.” It’s an obvious lie. My entire body is shaking.

“I probably need to make something clear to you,” Rai says after a soft sigh. “I think you have been abused the past two weeks since your arrival at Applebaum’s. I really only require one thing from you. I believe I’ve already mentioned what I expect from you.” He looks at me expectantly. When I don’t answer, he prompts me gently, “Can you tell me what it is?”

“O-obedience.” I lower my eyelids half-way, fluttering my lashes softly. I’m terribly ashamed of myself. I don’t even know what I did to displease him so much. I can't figure it out and feel frustrated.

“And I’ve only given you one command so far, haven’t I?”

My ears droop even further, and my tail falls to the forest floor. I swallow thickly and I nod, unable to meet his gaze. Wait a minute. His command was not to sing for anyone but him. And I haven't. At least, not since singing for Akira.

“And you made up for your mistake already. I told you—you are forgiven.”

I still don’t say anything. But my body is still trembling. 

“So why are you cowering before me? Was the punishment so extreme? Do you no longer wish to be by my side?”

I jerk my gaze to him, realizing he is trying to tell me something important. I’m not sure what it is—in fact, I’m sure I don’t understand. 

“What?” I ask.

“Do you fear me? Is that why you are acting like this?”

“I just don’t know how I disobeyed you again! I don’t even know what I did!” I burst out, frustrated. 

Rai strokes my ears with his other hand—the leather feels nice on my fur. He keeps my chin in his right hand, pointing my face to his and meeting my gaze.

“Why do you think you’ve done something to displease me?”

My ears perk up, confused.

“You… you stopped the horse.”

“I did. But I did that because I think you might require some care. Truthfully, we are only about half-way to the manor. I didn’t think you’d be able to wait that long.”

“Care?” I’m really confused now.

“You’re still suffering from symptoms of heat, yes?”

Sex? He’s talking about sex? I’m so embarrassed! How could he even tell?! I drop my gaze immediately and feel my cheeks flood with shame. Plus... he stopped out here in the woods? He wants to do it here? In the middle of the forest?!

“Kitten, look at me.” His voice is soft if slightly controlling. I don’t feel like I can disobey him, so I reluctantly meet his gaze. “There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of. I want to get to know you—who you really are—your preferences, your dreams, your desires. It pleases me to see this part of you.”

What part of me? The excessively horny, hormonal part? I almost let those words slip from my mouth and restrain them somehow. Instead, I form part of a question.

“So you stopped because…?”

“Because I think you need a little care.” I shift on my feet at his words, but he won’t let me look away. “You can ask for what you need. For what you want. It pleases me.”

“What I want?” I echo softly. Now when I meet his gaze, I notice the corners of his lips are slightly curved up. He’s smiling at me, looking at me almost indulgently.

“Yes.”

“I-i… I don’t know.”

“Don’t you? That’s strange because I think I do know.”

“You know what I want?”

“Yes. I have an idea. From your scent. From your body. From your eyes. Even from your fur.” His voice is even softer now. Gods, he’s so sexy it hurts!

“And yet, you want me to ask?!” I am shocked at the words that spill from my lips. I can’t believe I just said something so sassy. But I don’t need to worry. I hear a soft laugh spill from the cat in front of me.

“Sometimes it’s good to be direct.”

With those words, he lifts my chin up a little more and pulls me in close to his body with his other hand. An electric shock courses through my body when our lips meet, and I relax in his arms. He feels so good—he tastes good, he smells good. Even his soft purr melts into my ears and makes my body respond.

“If I were a little crueler, perhaps I’d wait till you actually told me what you wanted and what you needed,” he whispers against my lips. “But I don’t like to see you suffer—even as beautiful as you are when you are needy.”

“Needy?” I ask—and it comes out as anger. “I’m not—!”

“Oh, but you are,” Rai interrupts me, and he trails his hands down my back to the base of my tail. It bristles out immediately and waves behind me as though beckoning him, and my fur fluffs up. “I wonder if this will be enough…”

He releases my chin and runs both hands through the fur on my tail. It fills my groin and hips with unbelievable heat and pleasure, and my purr spills out with a loud meow. He hasn’t touched me this way before—but it’s almost as if he is fucking my tail with his hands. While I watch, he brings the hooked tip of my tail to his lips and sucks on it, grazing the skin with his fangs, forcing another meow from my lips.

“You just need to ask for what you want.”

But of course, I can’t even speak now. I am terribly afraid I will come right now—ruining my clothes or his or both. And here, in the middle of the woods where anyone could come upon us! I’m unbelievably aroused and my cock is dripping. I’m a little shocked when the hand holding the tip of my tail to his lips moves suddenly and unbuckles my belt and unbuttons my pants, shoving them down my hips just enough to free my erection. I gasp softly and let out another soft meow.

He doesn’t touch my erection directly—but the warm breeze in the summer air feels cool against it, a strange feeling compared to the warmth radiating from his body, and it’s strange to be exposed like this before him. But it doesn’t decrease my arousal at all. I realize he is doing this just for me—for my benefit and for my pleasure—and heat pulses through my hips and I close my eyes, my lashes blocking out the light. Even my ears focus on the pounding of my heart and the soft sound of his gloves combing through my fur.

Rai has seen me come from tail play alone. Last night, during the auction, he saw what Aoba did to me. And he knows what he is doing, I tell myself. And I feel weirdly… grateful. Thankful for his touch. It’s an odd feeling.

And those feelings spill from my body—from deep within my soul—in the form of a song. It gurgles up inside my chest and spills out of my body, ruffling out my fur in a wave and embracing the silver cat in front of me. It sounds like I am saying (or singing) thank you. Is that odd? Is it weird? To thank someone for touching me?

It isn’t that as much as it is being grateful for his gentle, tender touch. I’m utterly thankful for his willingness to touch me, caress me, feel me gently. I can’t help it. I don’t really want to help it, either. And so I don’t. Instead, I just let the song spill from my body and go with what I am feeling.

I can feel the silver cat’s emotions as well. He feels turned on and excited—filled with lust and anticipation—and he loves the sound of my song. He knows I am singing for him—that this is for him and him alone—and I suddenly understand why he wanted me to sing only for him and no one else. I think I feel a little possessiveness, a little jealousy, hidden beneath his desire. And the very fact that he wants me—a cat like him, a prince like him, wants me—is all I need to bring me over the edge.

My climax takes me a little by surprise, but he indulges me, softening the strokes on my tail as my hips twitch. I shiver with lust and desire, letting my feelings be swept away.

And I collapse—into his arms—when I’m finished. He catches me easily, kneels down on the forest floor for a moment, the world fades from behind my eyes—and I think he’s wiping me up, kissing my ears, my cheeks, my lips.

“You are utterly enchanting. You don’t need to fear me.”

Chapter Text

“We’re here.”

A soft voice wakes me up and the horse has stopped walking. I open my eyes and realize I’ve been asleep. Also, I’m facing Rai on his horse, and he has an arm wrapped around me, holding me close to his chest. His hair is draped over me, and he smells nice and cozy.

But once I realize where I am, I feel slightly embarrassed. And not just for where I find myself right now. I can’t help thinking about what he did to me—and why it bothers me so much isn’t because of what he did, but where we were at the time. I mean—anyone could have seen us! 

Rai climbs down from the horse while I’m trying to settle my nerves and wait for my blush to clear. He sets me down on the ground and gives the reins to a cat working in the stables, who bows his head.

“How are you feeling? How is your energy?”

“My energy?”

“I was thinking we might train. Unless you’re too tired?”

“Ah, no. I can train. I want to learn.”

“All right. Until lunchtime then.”

Rai’s country manor is a large house—nearly the size of Applebaum’s, I think—but we don’t go inside right away. Instead, we head out to the back—and I see groves of fruit trees and a forest extending behind the mansion. There’s a medium-sized structure behind the house, and that is where he leads me.

Weirdly, other than the cat who took Rai's horse, I don't see much staff. It's awfully quiet for a prince's home. When I look more closely, maybe I do see one or two cats in the grove and through the windows of the house, maybe in the kitchen.

At first, I think this might be a barn. But it isn’t. This is a storage facility—I can’t call it a storage shed because it’s much too big to be a shed—and it's absolutely packed with weapons. Some are antiques, some are modern. There are guns and swords and daggers and armor—lots of stuff that looks like it belongs to royalty which, I guess, he is. This is really my first look at Rai as a prince. I’m a little blown away.

“Is this all yours?” I breathe softly as Rai casually looks through the swords.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose it is.”

I guess he means it’s because technically, all this must all belong to the kingdom. I wonder if all the princes have access to these weapons or if they have their own.

Rai pulls out a small sword—well, it’s sized for me—and hands it to me.

“How does this feel?”

It feels weird to be holding a weapon again. In Karou, of course, I had to defend my territory from other cats. But Tokino’s father confiscated it when I arrived at his house, saying there was no need for a sword in Ransen.

I brandish the weapon. It’s a little heavier than the one I had in Karou, but I’m a small cat so anything is going to feel a little big.

“It’s close to what I had at home.”

“You’ve had some training?” His ears are perked up cutely on top of his head. He’s really a nice-looking cat. Almost to a point of being distracting.

“Well, I’m mostly self-taught, but I had to defend my territory in Karou.”

“Good. We’ll see what you’ve got. To be safe, I’d like to put you in leathers as well. Come on inside for a moment.”

I follow him in the house—it’s gorgeous inside—clean and pristine and uncluttered. There are few personal effects that I can see, though in the grand entrance there’s an ornate crystal chandelier and a painting of a tall, slender cat with medium-length silver hair and green eyes. He must be Rai’s ancestor—but the painting looks very old.

Slightly distracted by the cat in the painting, I hurry up the stairs and follow behind the prince. We walk down the hallway—a pair of double doors at the end—and he opens a door to a room next to the one with double-doors.

I’m frankly blown away—since I’m still not quite used to the luxury of Applebaum’s. But this room is even more gorgeous. It’s huge—with a walk-in closet and a private attached bathroom. In the room itself is a giant bed with a canopy, a fireplace—but since it’s so close to summer we won’t need the fire—a dressing table, and a desk, upon which sits a copy of today’s newspaper and a vase filled with gorgeous roses—ranging from white to pink to red. My chest feels warm and happy.

“You will be staying here this week,” Rai says, glancing at me as though to see if I approve. “I took the opportunity to provide a wardrobe for your stay. If you will be training with me, you’ll want clothes that are cool and easy to move around in—and that will fit under the leather.”

He opens the walk-in closet, and I gasp softly. There is a giant rack of clothes there—sorted by function, it seems. It includes light-weight knits, casual garments, and even formalwear. I’m stunned. Also, I see a set of brown leather armor close to my size, hanging on the side.

“I’d recommend you change into something easier to move around in, and then slip the leathers over the top. I can help you lace them if needed.”

He is still watching me, and I am touching the soft fabric. I return his gaze and feel perplexed. 

“Are these for me?”

“Yes. I got your measurements from the tailor at Applebaum’s.”

“Wait—you had them made for me?” I feel very special—and utterly flustered.

“Do you like them?”

“I—um, I hardly know what to say.” Maybe he is serious about keeping me around for longer than just this week. 

“I don’t want to pressure you. If we finish this week together and you determine you’d rather go back to school—”

“I won’t!”

Rai smiles at my interruption. 

“As I was saying, whatever you prefer. This is not a commitment.” He crosses his arms. “Why don’t you change your clothes? I’ll do the same. I’ll be back in a bit to help you.”

It takes me a little while to choose my favorite shirt and light-weight pants from the closet, and I slip out of my clothes quickly, excited about the upcoming week. The fact that he didn’t just have my stuff brought from the school makes me feel good—like he expects more of me, as though he expects me to make a new life here with him.

The outfit fits well—there’s a mirror in the wardrobe and I check myself out. My face even looks different—softer and slightly flushed still—but I wonder if it’s because of the heat? I look eager—not only for training. But there’s life in my eyes that I haven’t seen in a long while. I’m pulling out the leather armor and a pair of tall boots when there’s a soft knock at the door.

It’s only then that I realize that this is my room. And Rai—the prince—is knocking softly as though this is really my own private space. It’s a weird sort of freedom I haven’t experienced in a few weeks—since I’ve been away from home. It's an odd feeling. Is it possible I am not actually a slave here?

“Come in,” I say, keeping my voice soft and shy. 

“Ah, it looks good.” Rai smiles. 

I look up at him and am a little shocked to see his outfit. He’s wearing black and blue leather—laced up skin-tight and showing every last muscle on his entire body—full-body armor and thigh-high leather boots. And then I think—shit, I’m supposed to be able to concentrate while training with him looking like this? I lose a little confidence right away.

I pull on the leathers over my clothes, and Rai laces up the back of my vest after I fasten it at the side. He pulls it tight—like a corset, almost—and hums softly.

“Perfect. It will stretch as you wear it in, and it will definitely get softer when it’s worn. I hope it doesn’t feel too stiff for you at first.”

I should be able to put it on myself, I realize, after I’m fastened in, as well as undress. Rai has to help me with lacing up the legs of the lower part of the armor, and I will probably have to unlace them to get them off my body later.

My whole body sort of crinkles whenever I move. The squeaky sound of leather rubbing against itself isn't unpleasant when I try to put on my boots. I can hardly reach the laces, and Rai grins when he sees me try.

“Let me help you. I promise the leather will get softer over time. But it’s best to train in the clothes you actually plan to wear in battle. You’ll get used to moving in them.”

I trust him, watching him lace up my boots. And I feel my lower half getting a little… heavy. And warm. He’s dressing you, not undressing you, you stupid cat, I try to tell myself. But once you have a feeling—even a tiny spark of arousal—you can’t really do anything to keep it from spreading. And I just like him touching me. It occurs to me that I haven’t been touched very much during my life. More than I can ever remember has been happening the last two weeks—and most of it has been extremely distasteful. But when Rai touches me, it’s different. At first, I thought it was because I was attracted to him. However, even the very first time he met me, he touched my ears. It has such an intense tenderness, even when he is gentle, that I can’t seem to resist.

When I’m dressed, I grab my sword and sheathe it and follow Rai back downstairs, trying to observe the mansion as we go. Rai’s got long legs, and I know he isn’t rushing, but it takes me a little effort to keep up. We eventually head back out to the courtyard.

“So. I know you can sing already. Whether you can sing for me during battle is another issue we can address a little later, so let’s start with sword training.”

I nod, paying close attention to how he instructs. I mean, I know he is a professional bounty hunter—and he has a reputation—but he’s actually pretty good at explaining how to move. I’ve never had any formal instructions for sword training, but his advice is excellent and helpful. He shows me where to put my weight and how—since I don’t have the strength he does—to make the most of my talents—speed, really—and go for vital spots.

Of course, I don’t land a single blow. I wasn’t expecting to—it’s been a while and no one in Karou was professional. He stays very calm when he fights, reminding me to watch my breathing and not get too riled up. But still, the longer we fight, the more I can smell his pleasant wintery scent—and I can’t smell any sweat, but he must be. It’s warm today, and I am sure I see his forehead and neck sparkling a little.

It’s very fun, though, even landing on my backside as often as I am. I have to admit—to myself, and not to the silver cat—that my butt is still sore from this morning. I start to wonder if Rai realizes this and is sending me backward on purpose after a while. I mean, I could be sent flying on my face. But it feels like he is reminding me specifically of that punishment from this morning.

After about an hour, I’m utterly exhausted. My ass really is sore—and not just the skin, my muscles, too. I don’t have the nerve to ask if he’s been doing this on purpose—and he isn’t mean about it. It’s just weird to see him smirking just a little when I wince.

“Let’s move to your song.”

“Okay,” I say—a little relieved to be doing something other than sword training.

“I know you can sing when I touch you—and you should be able to sing for me when I’m not touching you by the end of the week. In a real-life situation, I may not be close enough to instigate your song with touch.”

He goes on to explain what he knows about Sanga, adding that he hasn’t had experience with one before, nor has anyone he knows. We are a rarity in today’s world, it seems.

“Basically, as a Sanga, your song is an exchange—you are lending your power to me when you sing, which is why you end up exhausted. But like when you train a muscle, you should be able to handle more and more as we continue training. I’ll repeat my warning from this morning. I would remind you that I don’t want you to sing for anyone else—especially during this week. Until your song has stabilized and you can use it freely, you should concentrate on how connecting with me feels.”

I nod in agreement, trying to ignore my burning ass. It’s as if his words alone remind me of that spanking this morning. And weirdly, while it’s embarrassing, it’s not exactly entirely unpleasant. I’m a little surprised at my reaction since I was humiliated so frequently during the past few weeks by Virus and Trip. I try hard not to think about it.

“What will affect the power of your song the most, from what I understand, is our bond.”

“Our bond?” I ask.

“Yes. Physical affection is important to increase your feeling of connection, security, and pleasure. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to work on this as well.”

Hearing him say this sends a feeling of anticipatory pleasure shooting through my body. I have to glance down for a moment—a blush rising on my face—because I’m not sure how I should respond to this. Does he want me excited and eager? Or would he prefer I’m more reserved? And then I think to ask a question.

“Is that why you stopped?”

“Stopped what?”

“I mean when we were on our way here. You stopped—in that glade. Was that to, um, increase our bond?”

“Ah. It probably helped, yes. But that isn’t why I stopped.”

“Why… did you stop, then?”

“I wanted to touch you. I wanted you to feel pleasure. I wanted to increase your comfort on the ride here.”

“I see.” I’m not sure what else to say and a few minutes pass in silence.

"Did you dislike it?"

"Oh, no!"

"But it made you uncomfortable?"

"Um, not exactly," I stumble with my words. "It was just unexpected." Really, I would have expected him to insist on something in return. That's what was so surprising about it. "And we were outside."

"You know, if you decide to stay with me, we will be outside a lot of the time. When I go on a hunt, I don't usually stay in towns or inns."

My fur bristles at his words and I glance up at him directly. He is smiling indulgently at me. It makes me realize I may not be the only one having these sort of heated thoughts and fantasies.

“So. Do you think you can sing for me now?”

“Um… I’ll try.”

I quiet my inner voice and close my eyes. He is still standing a few feet away from me, but I was able to sing for Akira (or Rai) this morning. I’m not feeling any particular fear at the moment, though I notice I am feeling aroused and a little anxious. I go with those feelings, directing them toward Rai. Within a minute or two, my song is softly spreading from my body, slim tendrils of light spilling from my fingertips and searching out the silver cat.

When the light reaches him, I can feel his response. It’s a pleasant sensation—and I can tell he is pleased. I am enjoying it—and I want to see how far I can take things and I don't pace myself. I think because my body is tired and I’m not currently touching him, my song fizzles out within about five minutes, and I feel the world growing gray around the edges of my vision. My knees buckle and I’m a little surprised to lose my power so quickly—and also when my nose is filled with Rai’s cool scent.

He’s managed to catch me in his arms before I hit the ground. He scoops me up and kisses my ears.

“That was good! I’m pleased. And it gives me the idea we should work on your pacing. But you’re exhausted now. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, and we can have some lunch.”

“Hmm.” It’s all I can do to just lean against his chest and enjoy the feel of his strong arms around my body while he carries me into the house.

Chapter Text

Rai carries me up the stairs to my room.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and we can get you some dinner. It looks like you may need a little help.”

He’s right—I can hardly move, in fact. I’m slightly intimidated because I can’t move or defend myself—but even if I weren’t paralyzed from my song, I probably would still have a hard time defending myself against him anyway. So is this any different? And why don’t I dislike it? Maybe the idea that I am unable to overpower him in any situation makes him even more attractive. These strange thoughts tangle themselves in my head.

He carries me into the attached bathroom, and I’m stunned. It’s like a miniature, private version of the elegant bathing chamber we have upstairs at Applebaum’s—complete with an oversized shower, a separate stall for a toilet, a sink with a mirror, and a huge hot spa. 

“Wow,” I murmur. I still can’t move when Rai sets me down gently on a long chair. I collapse into it.

“I always forget how vulnerable you get after singing.” Rai looks down at me as he unhooks my vest and gets to work on removing my shirt. “Are you okay with this?”

“Okay with what?”

He sighs softly and then continues in a gentler voice.

“Are you all right with me touching you when you can’t move?”

“Um…” I take a deep shaky breath and then make an effort to meet his cool blue eye. “You can do whatever you like with me.”

The pupil of his eye blows wide and dark, and he blinks suddenly.

“Hmm. That almost sounds like you are asking for what you want.” The corners of his lips curve up subtly.

“I am.”

“Perhaps you might be more direct.”

A few moments of quiet pass while I gather my courage.

“I don’t want to wait till after dinner.” My ears feel hot and I am sure my cheeks are blushing. My entire body is burning up, it seems. Rai has pulled off my boots and socks and is unlacing my pants.

“Wait for what?”

“For you to, um, touch me.”

His eyebrows lift and he meets my gaze again.

“While you are like this?”

I nod.

“You can’t move.”

“I know. I trust you.”

My words make his pupil dilate again. He looks at me almost suspiciously after pulling the leathers from my body.

“Just so we’re clear…”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to make love to you now? Before you regain your ability to move?”

I nod. Make love. That's an apt description for how he treats me, how he touches me. It feels reverent and special.

“It might be sort of exciting,” I whisper softly.

“I agree,” he says, and then he presses his lips to my mouth. He feels hot—and I can’t do anything at all.

More than anything, I realize I want to please this silver cat. He is what will save me from my life as a student at Applebaum’s. But not only that… I actually want him to touch me. The way he went out of his way to take care of me earlier today, just for my own benefit… it was astounding. Why would he do such a thing? He interrupts my thoughts.

“So. Here’s what we will do. If I do anything you don’t want me to do, touch you in a way you dislike, or if you want me to slow down, I want you to say ‘lemon.’ If I hear you say that word, I will stop whatever I am doing, and there will be no negative consequences. You won’t be displeasing me.”

“Um, all right. But is there a reason I can’t just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’?”

Rai chuckles. 

“I think you protest on purpose—more than you realize. I believe you were begging me to stop out in the forest this morning—or your mouth was. But you didn’t really want me to stop, did you?”

My ears flatten and my tail swishes in a wide arc behind me. He’s right. Have I always done this? I think about it for a minute—about my verbal responses. I do say “no” and “don’t” and “wait” an awful lot—even when I just feel overwhelmed by a touch I am currently enjoying. I think he is right.

“Is that bad?” I ask. Is this something I should stop? Something I should be ashamed of?

“Not at all. Why would you ask that?”

“Well, isn’t it like I’m refusing you?”

“Ah, but you aren’t refusing me. And just between the two of us, I don’t really mind when you protest a little.”

“You don’t mind?”

“To be direct, I find it incredibly hot.” That last sentence is whispered in my ear and pools in my hips.

“My refusing you?”

“Yes. I’m a prince. I get anything I want—or can simply take whatever I want. It’s exciting to have someone who thinks he can refuse me.”

A little shiver ripples down my spine at his words. Fear? Anticipation? Both?

“But I will stop—if you want me to—when you say the word ‘lemon.’”

He doesn’t waste any time. While he is kissing me, he strips me out of my underwear—leaving me feeling vulnerable as the only one who is naked. And sure enough, the word slips from my mouth almost immediately: “Wait—”

“See what I mean? Do you really want me to wait? Or are you just overwhelmed?”

I blush again—hard—and I feel slightly bewildered. He seems like a cold person or at least like he should be a cold person. Even when I first met him, he seemed tough and hard, though he treated me with care and gentleness. And his touch now is excessively gentle—gentle enough to feel ticklish. I enjoy it an awful lot, and I don’t really want him to wait. So why did I say the word?

“I think… I think I want us to be even,” I explain.

“Even?” He whispers against my mouth.

“I mean… I don’t want to be the only one this time.”

His eyebrows lift and he smiles softly, pulling away from me and getting to his feet. I watch as he unlaces his boots and pulls them off, then strips off his leathers and his shirt. He’s wearing what looks like silk underwear underneath those tight pants—and he is definitely into this. No, he is definitely into me. Another little shiver crawls up my spine to my ears, making my fur fluff out in its wake. I still can’t move—and I realize I don’t want to move, either. He strips out of his underwear as well, leaving us both naked.

“Are you happy now? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He scoops me up in his arms and brings me under the shower. I realize now that the shower is easily big enough for two, and there’s a stool in there for me to sit on. He washes my hair carefully and combs conditioner through it—it smells nice, like his hair—and then scrubs me down with a cloth and some soap. It feels good—overwhelming, but good. And his touch is a little firmer so it doesn’t tickle as much. At least, not until he reaches my feet.

He is kneeling in front of me in the shower, conditioner in his hair as well, and he lifts up one of my legs and starts scrubbing the soles of my feet, watching me carefully. I can’t pull away since I still don’t have any movement available—and it tickles. I feel almost trapped, stifled—and yet the touch is so mesmerizing I still don't think I want him to stop.

“Um… er…” I start giggling almost uncontrollably. He looks up at me, slightly surprised but not displeased.

“You’re ticklish? I thought just here,” Rai says, combing his claws through the silky fur at my belly—and my giggles turn to something more like real laughter. But it sounds weird, gulping and breathy and sexy—and Rai doesn’t stop. “Don’t forget your safeword.”

I don’t feel like I need to use it, but I do like him touching me. I think over the past two weeks, most of the touch I’ve experienced has been painful or intended to be humiliating. So to have someone touch me for the sake of my own pleasure and joy (and whatever tickling falls under) feels really nice and kind of strange. And the fact that this someone looks like the silver cat makes it even more special.

To be honest, I love his attention. So I don’t use the safeword. I just let him continue.

Once I’m all clean and my hair is rinsed—he is, too—he switches off the shower (and again, I’m amazed by running water and running hot water since I had nothing like this at home in Karou) and carries me to the pool.

It’s not as large as the one for student use at Applebaum’s, but it is bigger than the one in Virus’s private bathroom. Probably four cats Rai’s size could sit in it. And the water is subtly scented with something minty—is it catnip? It smells a lot like that grass where Akira kissed me.

Akira—thinking his name brings to mind his pretty face and gorgeous eyes—slightly greener than Rai’s pale blue one—and I hope he’s all right. I saw the king—Rai’s older brother—rushing out to save him from Shiki, so I probably don’t need to worry. But still. He’s on my mind. I feel terrible for having sung to him before—and not just because it frustrated Rai. Mostly because I know Akira can feel my emotions.

Suddenly, I realize that he could probably hear me when Rai was punishing me with the riding crop in the bedroom. Maybe the punishment wasn’t as private as I thought it was. I flush a little, trying to push the thought from my mind. I know now why I shouldn’t sing for anyone else, but honestly, I think I’d have to do it again if I were put in the same situation. I couldn't stand by and watch the abuse happen.

The realization makes me peek up at Rai through my lashes, and he returns my gaze.

“What?”

“Oh, um. Nothing.”

“Your expression doesn’t look like nothing.”

I can’t possibly tell him I was thinking of Akira, so I make something up.

“I—I was j-just a little nervous about floating away,” I say. It sounds lame. But it seems he takes my hesitation as a sign of arousal and affection and he lets me get away with it.

“You are quite buoyant,” he says. “Probably there are some parts of you that float a little better than most cats.” He squeezes my ass gently when he says this—and his voice is dripping with indulgence. 

I love the sound of Rai’s voice. It makes me want to close my eyes and revel in it, concentrate on it, let it caress me deep in my ears. It almost feels like he is fucking me when he speaks so softly to me. It rumbles something deep in my chest.

He pulls me a little closer to him, turning me to face him in the water, arranging my legs on either side of his thighs. He’s easily as aroused as I am—and he hasn’t had the same treatment as I have today.

“It’s good to be young.” I can feel his fingers caressing my dick—a little more gently than I’d prefer. It is a light teasing touch—and it makes my insides melt. “I wonder how many times you can come in a single day. Should we see if we can make a new record?”

“Mmm,” I protest softly. I want to say no and stop—but I realize I don’t mean it at all. What I really mean is… harder! Faster! Stronger! 

Suddenly Rai stops his hand and he looks at me directly.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything…”

“You didn’t? I am sure I thought I heard a request—a delightfully direct request.”

“I didn’t—”

“Harder?” He increases the pressure in his fingers. “Faster? Stronger?” He also starts moving his hand a little faster.

I purr with delight—but again, I’m slightly taken aback that he heard my request. I’m sure I didn’t open my mouth.

“How very bold! It pleases me. This is left from your earlier song. You’re doing an amazing job bonding with me.”

“You can read my thoughts?”

“I can—for a while after you sing—but that doesn’t absolve you of having to learn to tell me what you want, how you want to be touched.”

He pulls my body closer to his and I feel his erection—intimidatingly large and demanding—pressing up against mine. He holds my hips in place with his left hand at the base of my tail, his fingers gripping the base and brushing the wet fur backward, the tips of his fingers ghosting over my entrance, making me straighten my spine and push against him even more.

Sighs and moans slip from my lips and I am embarrassed by the noise I am making. In fact—the rhythm of them sounds almost like a song. And before I know what’s happened, my body is glowing and a real song spills from me.

Rai uses that as his cue—bristling up his wet fur, which looks so cute and spiky—to move a little more urgently.

“Relax,” he whispers. I notice I have some motion restored in my legs since my thighs are flexing. “Let me take care of you.”

It takes very little time for me to approach the point of no return. I’m a little ashamed of myself that it doesn’t take longer—and that the tips of my ears and my nose are numb. My tail is also flicking around behind me demandingly. Rai slows down his movements—just a little. It makes an extremely indulgent feeling ripple through my body, radiating out from my cock to the tips of my fingers and toes—and a loud moaning purr escapes, matching the pitch and timbre of my song.

“Look at me.”

I tip my eyes up to look at him—and though I could move my head at this point, I don’t. I opt for looking at him through my lashes. His arousal is obvious—his fangs bare, his pupil dilated, his fur bristled. My heart thumps loudly in my ears and in my chest, making the song I am singing pulse to its rhythm. I feel a bond—like a bridge between us, like a physical connection—and I can feel in the tendrils of light playing in his hair, touching his tail, his back, his hips.

Like when he sparred with me, the spark of light in his eye returns—and I suddenly can’t back up anymore. I feel a finger or two slip inside me, just beneath my tail. It makes me sit up a little more firmly since I expect discomfort and pain. But there is no pain. There is only extreme pleasure when he scissors his fingers apart deep inside my body. I shudder and sigh—letting my voice go freely.

Then I wonder—is it okay for me to come here? Now? In the water?

My ears flick around nervously—but I can’t bring myself to ask.

“You’re fine. Just relax and come.”

Again, I’m surprised because I know he heard my thoughts—and embarrassing ones, too. How much can he hear? Does he know how amazingly attractive I think he is? Does he know how much I want to please him?

My climax comes upon me with a strange, melting, quivering sensation—and as he spreads my insides apart once more, he brushes that spot inside me at the same time, making it even more intense than the one in the woods. A vulgar sound leaks from between my lips and I push my body up against his, grabbing his shoulders and drawing my claws.

White-hot pleasure spills from my core into the rest of my body, and I watch his expression dissolve into a similar sensation. Can he feel my climax? Does he enjoy how it feels?

And soon after spilling my passion into his hand, he comes, too, slowing down the firm grip on the both of us. I am purring loudly, unable to contain myself, and his purr reverberates in my very bones.

After brushing his claws through my hair and dropping a strangely chaste kiss on my lips, he gently lifts me from the pool, sets me on the lounge chair, and wraps me in a towel. I watch with exhausted eyes—glowing in a haze of pleasure—as he squeezes water from his hair and drying his body.

He towels off my hair as well and picks me up, both of us in towels.

“Come. You need to rest.”

He pulls back the sheets of my bed—a cool sensation on my nearly overheated body—and climbs into the bed with me. He holds me against his chest, pressing my head against his heart. He grooms my ears tenderly while I drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Rai allows me to sleep until dinner. The sky outside is turning to dusk by the time I wake up. There are fresh flowers in my room as well. Rai shakes me awake gently, smiling when my fur bristles broadly. It isn’t that he frightened me. It’s more that I am just disoriented and surprised to see him and realize where I was.

Could this really be my future? I cannot believe my good luck! Even that nap was perfect.

At the back of my mind, I am happy for Akira for attracting the king’s attention enough so he would interfere with Shiki on Akira's behalf. I still can’t quite process what I saw this morning—how fast the brown cat moved and how quickly he disarmed Shiki and threw him into the grass. It was like it was nothing to him.

Then, my mind drifts to Aoba. We haven’t always gotten along—I mean, he did get me in trouble because Koujaku had been paying me attention in class. I get it. I understand the feeling much better now. I would feel jealous if I saw Rai paying another student that much attention. But to me, it looked like they had made up—Aoba was still at Koujaku’s side yesterday morning. I realize that doesn’t mean that I actually know what happened to either of those students. Did Akira really go to the king’s palace? And did Aoba finally get his wish—to go home with Koujaku?

“Let’s dress you for dinner,” Rai suggests, helping me out of bed. I’m still stark naked and I flush from the tips of my ears to my toes when I realize it. Rai just smiles at me. “Cute. Though it’s not like I haven’t seen all of you before.”

“Um, I’m sorry,” I apologize immediately for my hesitance and embarrassment.

“Why? What are you sorry for?”

“Oh. Um. Doesn’t my, um, shyness displease you?”

“Not at all. In fact, on the contrary. I find it utterly adorable.” Rai has the most gorgeous smile—and I realize that he does not smile like this very often—and when he does, it’s only for me. It makes my stomach flutter and feel warm. "Listen, I wonder if I need to emphasize my ground rules."

"Ground rules?" I feel suddenly nervous, thinking that I did in fact displease him again. In truth, my ass is still a little sore from that punishment this morning.

"I don't want you to be so nervous around me," Rai says. He seems aware that I am much more anxious now than I was earlier. "There's no need to be anyone but who you are. I think that's healthy for kittens your age. And from what I know of your kind, you need to have independence to develop your skill."

My kind? What does he mean? I must look slightly confused since he continues.

"I mean as a Sanga. If you don't have the ability and permission to grow on your own, your song will stagnate. You won't learn how to control the power of it and when you sing. Left at Applebaum's, you'd still be able to sing but eventually, your power would end up controlling you instead of the other way around."

"I see," I say, still slightly nervous.

"I mentioned this morning. I only have one rule. Do you remember what it is?"

I nod.

"Will you tell me?" The corners of Rai's lips curve up just a little. Maybe this conversation isn't as serious as it feels like to me.

"Obey you. I only need to obey you."

"That's right. That is all I require. And have I given you instructions?"

"Yes. Only sing for you." I cast my eyes to the floor, looking at the pretty, fluffy rug at the foot of the bed. Have I felt it with bare feet yet?

"Good boy," Rai says. He sits down on the mattress next to me, and I try not to flinch. "Aside from earlier this morning, how do you think you've been doing? With regards to my single rule?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Okay, I guess?" I am hesitant to answer and his being right next to me is having a confusing effect on my ability to talk and think clearly.

"Actually, I think you've been doing very well. After we took care of the issue this morning, you have been doing perfectly." He rubs my ears gently and touches my chin, making me look up at him. "You please me."

"Um, okay. I'm glad."

"I don't want you to fear me, Konoe. I want to earn your trust. And I am sorry this morning ended up the way it did. But do you understand why?"

I nod.

"I was wrong. I disobeyed you almost right after you told me not to sing."

"Yes, but since then, you've been doing very well. You tried your best at training and you went above and beyond my expectations. I want you to trust me. I value you."

My heart warms a little and I find myself smiling.

"That's what I want to see. If you decide you want to stay with me, I want it to be because this is what you want, not because it's the only alternative for school. Do you understand?"

I nod again.

"So I was thinking. If you wish to remain by my side when the week is up, we can try this for a month and see how it goes. If at any point you don't like living with me, pairing with me, and singing for me, I will make sure to find you another place. I'm not sure I'd want to pair you with another Touga, but I can find a place for you to work and where you can learn a trade. You will not have to go back to Applebaum's. I could find you another school, too, somewhere safe. Or if you'd like, I could sponsor you as a student at Applebaum's, if you want to stay there as a regular student."

My ears perk up. I'm not sure I quite understand what he is saying.

"It's to make you feel safe. I want you to feel safe. Regardless of where you decide you want to go, you don't have to stay with me if you don't think it's a good fit. I still want you to be safe."

I hardly know what to say, but tears burn the corners of my eyes. I'm a little concerned that my disobedience this morning is what is bringing all this on. Is it really for my sake, or is it so Rai has a way out if he decides he doesn't want me to stay? Regardless, I appreciate not having the threat of Virus and Trip lingering at the back of my head, and I'm touched he cares about me.

"Thank you," I say the words quietly but in all sincerity. I decide not to ask about anything else at this point.

“All right. Would you like to dress for dinner?”

I remember the wardrobe then. It isn’t that I’m a huge fan of fancy clothes. It’s more that I’ve never had such a luxury before and that Rai chose these with me in mind. He was thinking of me when I wasn't with him, and that makes me feel special. I’m really excited to try them on. Am I really that vain, I wonder? Or is this something else? Maybe part of me wants to dress nicely—dress well enough to impress a prince.

“Just for your information, I don’t bother with these sorts of things while I am on the road,” Rai says. “But you’re here now—and why not live it up a little? Plus…” he lets his voice trail off softly, sitting down on the sofa—where, I notice, he can see me as I look through the clothes in the closet. He is watching me—staring at my ass, my legs, my waist. I try not to think about it too much. I somehow have a hard time believing that someone who looks like him—and a prince, no less—would be interested in me. I feel so plain. But if he believed that, he certainly wouldn’t be looking at me with this expression. He finally continues, “Plus I find myself looking forward to seeing you in some of these outfits.”

I peek at him over my shoulder, my fur bristled and full but of course, it’s not full enough to cover my ass. I give him a soft, shy but melting gaze.

“Did you choose these outfits?”

“I did. It was fun. I never played with dolls growing up, but that’s what this feels like.” Rai smiles again. “I think you’ll want to start with the dresser.”

“The dresser?”

“Well, it’s where I had all your underclothing stored. I mean—far be it from me to tell you what to wear. Maybe you’d be more comfortable without underwear. I mean, there are some benefits there...”

I blush in embarrassment and quickly turn around to head to the dresser. I open the drawer and to my surprise, there isn’t a single pair of white underwear in the entire drawer. There’s a lot of silk—in fact, most everything is silk, woven and knit, softer and sexier than anything I’ve ever owned or seen. I’m a little flustered by the excess and luxury but at the same time, I’m intrigued. I have a hard time choosing a pair I think would look nice—which I want to wear first—but I’m standing here naked as I try to decide so I feel like I should hurry it along.

Rai chuckles softly behind me.

“You know, even if you don’t want to stay with me by the time the week is done, you are welcome to take any or all of these clothes with you,” he says softly.

I still don’t understand what he means by me not wanting to stay with him. He’s surely my best option, isn’t he? Unless there's something I haven't learned about him which is possible. I mean, I've only spent a little time with him so far. It seems like my feelings about him are a little extreme. I blush again and pull on a pair of pale blue knit silk boxers. They feel like I am wearing nothing at all—and it’s a little distracting but they feel nice. It’s so weird to have to decide what kind and color of underclothing to wear, however. It’s just plain weird. And I realize I may make decisions in the future while thinking of his preferences. 

Oh, my gods. The prince of Sisa has preferences for what color underwear I am wearing! It's completely unbelievable.

“Nice choice,” he says. “They look gorgeous on you.”

For the rest of my outfit, I choose a suit in a medium gold shade—also silk—and it looks a lot like what Rai usually wears, only in a smaller size. It’s coordinated trousers that fit tight in the butt and thighs with narrow legs—I assume so I can wear boots over them—a matching vest and jacket, a fairly simple ivory silk blouse that feels amazing against my skin, and brown suede boots that are super soft.

When I see my reflection in the mirror, I’m a little surprised—since this outfit does indeed make me look fit for royalty. I would turn to look at me if I saw myself on the street. I feel indulged and a little spoiled, and I’m not sure what to say or how to act.

“Let me help you with your hair,” Rai says softly. He’s already dressed for dinner and has been helping me dress instead of just watching, doing buttons and laces, and now he takes a brush from the dresser—one that looks suspiciously like the brush Arbitro left for my “training,” and I have to push the thought away—to run through my hair and fur. It’s a wonderful feeling—relaxing and soothing, as long as I don’t think about how else that brush might be used. He brushes it through my tail as well, leaving my fur shiny and smooth.

“A finishing detail,” Rai says as he takes a pretty pink rose from the side table—he must have brought it with him—and pins it to the lapel of my coat. The coat is cut close, short so it shows off my waist but with tails that make me look a little taller.

If I think about how I left my home in Karou and compare that with what I see in the mirror, it doesn’t fit. I cannot believe my fortune!

“Um, Rai?” I ask, trying to figure out how to thank him for the care. 

“What is it, kitten?”

“I, um, I just wanted to say thank you. This is all… so much. I don’t know what to say.” I manage to meet his gaze briefly, and it looks surprisingly passionate. All we’ve been doing is getting me dressed and combing my hair and fur.

“It’s my pleasure. Come, let’s eat, and I will tell you more about the relationship between Sanga and Touga.”

He leads me downstairs to the dining room. It’s set for two people—and he sits at the head of the table and has me seated at his right. There are a few staff people who wait on him. I notice he treats them kindly, without talking down to them, and several of them are checking me out and smiling at me.

“Konoe, sir,” says one of the older cats in the room. “I’m the butler of this household. You can call me Tanaka. Prince Rai runs things very differently than other nobles I’ve served. It’s a pleasure to see someone such as yourself joining us. If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask. There is a bell in your room. Pull it, and I will see to your needs.”

“Oh, um, thank you very much.” I feel shy and self-conscious again. What is a commoner like myself doing with the prince, after all?!

During our relaxed but formal dinner, during which I'm actually thankful for Virus's teachings about etiquette, Rai tells me what he knows of the bonds between Sanga and Touga. And the meal is delicious—rich and fancy and cooked perfectly. I’ve never had food like this before. It’s delicious. I’m served a different wine with every course—and it doesn’t occur to me that I don’t have experience with drinking alcohol very much at all. I drink everything poured for me—and it’s great, tasting as if the chef has paired the food and wine specifically to go together.

I learn a lot during dinner, too. It seems a known fact that a Sanga can build his bonds with his Touga if they connect physically during the mating season. Additionally, the physical bond between them can also be built throughout other times, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be sexual. A massage or gentle touch is effective, too. Rai would like to see how much we might be able to build our bond this week and hopes that as our bond becomes more established, the control I have over my song should increase.

The thought of connecting to him physically and sexually is very attractive to me.

“It’s obvious that your song holds a lot of power,” Rai says. “You have no problem with power. You must have the blood of a genuine Sanga in your veins or you would not be able to sing as well as you do. What I’d like to concentrate on are control and stamina. Those skills can be learned but take more time and some patience.”

As I hear him talk of the bonds between Sanga and Touga, it makes a lot more sense now why he didn’t want me to sing for anyone else.

“Your song also has healing abilities. Have you seen any evidence of that yet?”

“Healing?” I ask. It would have been ideal to have known about this during the past two weeks when I was suffering so much abuse.

“Yes. It can soothe injury and in some cases, even mend broken bones. Your own or someone else’s.”

For a moment, I wonder if he means him by “someone else.” I want to ask if I might be able to use my song to heal another person, but I’m a little nervous to do so. I was punished for singing for Akira right after he told me not to. But now, the question seems important.

“So… I could heal someone else? You, for example?”

“Chances are you won’t need to during battle. If I have your song, it’s unlikely I will be severely injured. I’d prefer you to save your strength.”

“Um, so what if someone else was injured? A friend? Might I be able to help that person?”

“Hmm,” Rai hums softly. He sets his knife and fork down against his plate and picks up his wine glass. He’s looking at me carefully. “Perhaps in the future, yes. You could be able to learn that. However, because of the past two weeks, I’d prefer to concentrate your song on me, as I said before.”

I look down at my plate. I’m ashamed for disobeying him this morning—even now.

“Listen. I know you meant well and the incident from this morning is behind us. It’s just, well, I don’t want you to feel bad, but I believe Akira can hear you sing, even when you sing for me and when he isn't physically with you. And it’s painful for him.”

“Wait… It hurts him to hear my voice?” I suspected as much when Virus punished me on his behalf, but I didn't realize he could feel it at a distance as well.

“I’m not positive, but I believe it does. I was able to hear you miles away—not so much with my ears as with my heart. But if you truly did sing for him deliberately before, then yes. He will be able to hear you for some time. It would be painful for him if you sang within his hearing and the song wasn't intended for him.”

“Will I always hurt him with my song?” I can’t imagine this. I feel so bad for singing for Akira—even if that wasn’t my intention. I'm not sure I want to sing for Rai, either, if it means Akira will suffer! That doesn't seem right.

“I don’t think so. I believe if he doesn’t hear your song in person for a while, and if you continue to build your bond with me, eventually he won’t feel you sing anymore.”

I nod, swallowing thickly. All of this makes me think of the other two charity students—not just Akira. I want to ask about them, and perhaps now is a good time.

“Did the king take Akira with him to the palace?” I ask softly.

Rai sighs softly.

“I know you care about the silver kitten,” Rai starts, and I interrupt by shaking my head.

“It’s not like that,” I insist. “I mean—that one time he, um, kissed me and touched me, but I was under the influence of catnip at the time. I didn't ask for that nor was it wanted.” I know I’ve told Rai about this before.

“I remember. That’s an example of when I was able to hear you, as well.”

“M-my point is that I like Akira and care about him as a friend. Not as a Touga and not, um, as, um, anything else.”

Rai just nods his chin slightly.

“It’s not bad to care about people, kitten.”

Relief floods me suddenly—I’m glad he isn’t angry about this.

“S-so, did he get to go with the king? Or is he still at school?” I can’t keep the concern from my voice.

When Rai doesn’t immediately answer, I press, “I-it’s just that the fencing instructor, Shiki… he has it out for Akira.”

“I believe Shiki has it out for you now, too,” Rai says neutrally. “But yes, the plan was for Akira to attend Nano at the palace.”

“Permanently?”

“I think Nano wanted to see how he fit in there, but yes. The king wants to offer him a place permanently.”

I let out a soft breath, feeling much better. Then I remember Aoba again.

“What about Aoba?”

Rai tilts his head thoughtfully.

“Well, if my brother has any sense, he will have taken the blue-haired kitten from school. It looked like they were getting along quite well last night. This morning, too.”

I sigh softly—in relief.

“However, I didn’t hear Koujaku’s plans directly.”

My ears flatten.

“Oh? You look so concerned.” Rai reaches over to me and pets my ears softly. “Don’t worry. If it will make you feel better, I’ll invite them for dinner tomorrow night. Would that soothe your worry?”

“Yes! Um, thank you very much. I-i, um, don’t mean to be an inconvenience.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s sweet that you care so much about your schoolmates.”

I find myself feeling a little bit better about the other two charity students. They have both been at that school a lot longer than me, and the gods only know how they have suffered. The least I can do is ask about their well-being. What would I do, though, if Aoba didn’t actually get out of the school? What if he is still there? And what if Shiki, furious with losing Akira (and possibly me, too), took out his anger on him? It makes me feel sick.

But I push away the thoughts when a gorgeous dessert is placed before me. Along with a flute of sweet sparkling dessert wine, this is a scoop of sorbet. It’s a pretty plum color, and when I take a bite, a shiver runs down my spine. It’s kuim!

Rai is watching me eat, and I glance up at him. Again—an indulgent, soft look is on his face, making him look happy and young.

“Is it kuim?” I try to restrain my delight, but I’m simply unable. “It’s delicious!”

“It is—but you may want to slow down just a little. You can have more if you like, just…”

A sharp pain runs through my head at that very moment. What is this? It hurts behind my eyes and between my ears. It’s miserable, like a sudden sharp headache. I groan a little in response, scrunching up my eyebrows.

“Ah, too late, was I?” Rai stands up and walks to my chair. His warm hands massage the base of my ears firmly, and that almost instantly dissolves the pain.

“What was that?” I whisper.

“It’s all right. I was wondering if you haven’t eaten much frozen food before. It can make your head hurt if your mouth gets too cold all of a sudden.”

“Still, it’s worth it,” I say, taking another bite. Again, a sharp pain shoots through my head and I murmur softly.

Rai chuckles while rubbing my ears.

“Silly thing. Just slow down, take smaller bites, and don’t rub the sorbet on the roof of your mouth. I promise it's not going anywhere.”

His advice works. He asks if I’d like seconds, but I’m full by the time I’ve finished.

“Have you had enough to eat?”

“Yeah. That was delicious. Thank you.” I push my chair from the table and stand up, feeling the world lurch around me suddenly. What is wrong with me?

“Hmm. Perhaps a little less wine next time? Poor thing. Let me help you.”

Rai takes my arm and leads me back upstairs to my room. At some point, he ends up scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I’m a little embarrassed—since I hadn’t realized I’d had so much to drink.

“It’s okay,” Rai says. We’re back in my room, and he sets me on the bed. He spends the next few minutes pulling me out of my clothes. I’m not even embarrassed at this point—just utterly exhausted. “Have some water.”

He helps me sit up to help me drink, keeping the glass steady so I don't spill.

I lie down on the pillows—wearing just silk underwear at this point—and close my eyes.

“Kitten,” Rai says, and I open my eyes just a little. “Would you like to sleep alone tonight? Sort of to get your bearings? Do you want a little time for yourself? Or would it be all right if I joined you?”

I cannot believe he’s even considered leaving me alone!

“Please, um, please stay with me,” I say urgently. Rai smiles a little at the tone of my voice. 

“You must be exhausted. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to you. They haven’t been letting you sleep enough at that place.”

A feeling of sharp disappointment flashes through my chest—but really, I need to think about the fact that Rai has already seen to my needs several times today. I should be fine. I am tired and I need rest.

“Okay,” I mumble.

“You look so disappointed, kitten. At least let me groom you.”

When he makes that suggestion, I feel much better. I’m anxious to feel him next to me. He slips into bed behind me, and I can feel his chest against my back. He must have taken off his clothes, too.

But I’m asleep within minutes. The rough texture of his tongue on my ear feels hypnotic and it lulls me to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I wake hot and sweaty—almost as bad as I felt the day of the auction, I think. I’m disoriented as usual, and it takes me a moment to recognize my surroundings.

I’m in the luscious bedroom resting in Rai’s arms, and the prince still seems to be sleeping soundly. He doesn't snore or make hardly any sound when he sleeps. He doesn't make much noise when he's awake, either. However, I find that I am no longer in the mood to sleep. I am feeling just a little bit guilty about yesterday. I feel like I need to satisfy him instead of letting him see to my own needs.

Turning around, I lean up and start grooming his ears. They twitch cutely—his ears are small and rounded instead of large and pointy like a normal cat’s (by which I mean like mine), and he doesn’t seem to use them to express emotion nearly as much as I do. It isn’t as though I can’t ever tell what he’s feeling. His tail sways and moves in a perfectly readable way. But sometimes his expressions are hard to decipher without the movement of his ears.

A deep, rumbling purr shakes my body the more into the grooming I get. I’m still only dressed in the fancy silk underwear and completely naked otherwise. There’s only silk between our bodies, and my imagination starts to soar.

“Oy.” It’s almost a protest, murmured from beneath my body. I stop grooming, letting my fangs graze the tip of his ear, so I can meet his gaze. “We need to train this morning.”

“Okay,” I say agreeably. And then I get back to carefully grooming his ears.

“I meant,” Rai interrupts me, moving me physically away from his body in a way that is utterly gentle but somehow still manages to hurt my feelings, “I mean this morning. Now. Before you use up all this energy in one setting.”

“I’m pretty sure I can do both,” I say, trying to ooze confidence while I lean up to groom his fur some more. He won’t let me move, so I grab his tail instead.

“Oy. You’re not listening to me.” Rai still doesn’t sound upset or angry, but his voice is pretty firm. “Listen.”

He grabs my chin with one of his hands and pulls his tail away from my mouth. I find my feelings hurt again—just a little.

“This energy—what you are feeling right now—I want you to use this in your song. After training, I promise I will see to your needs. I don’t mean to frustrate you, but this is how we will teach you a little endurance and help build your stamina and control.”

I flatten my ears and he suppresses a soft chuckle.

“Come now,” he says. “It’s not like I’m torturing you.”

“I just…”

“What?”

“I just want to connect with you.”

“You can. In song.”

“I mean, physically.”

“We can train with the sword, too.”

“No. I mean… another kind of physically.”

“Listen, if you can’t even say it, why should I even pretend like I understand your meaning?” Rai climbs up out of bed and I realize he is actually naked. He is refusing me—refusing sex with me—even though I am offering it freely and urgently. I’m stunned.

“Sex,” I say boldly. “I want to have sex with you.”

Rai turns toward me, and I can’t help noticing that his fluffy tail is strategically placed. I know—I can tell—he wants to have sex with me, too. So what is going on here?

“I’m glad to hear it. It will make it easier for us to bond,” Rai says, his voice soft and sexy. He leans down and touches my chin. I sit up straight and move closer to him, as though to kiss him.

“I don’t want to wait.”

Rai chuckles again. It’s a pleasant sound, low in his throat.

“Look. I tried to explain this to you last night. Our goal this week is to build your control and stamina. The simplest way to do this is by building on what we already have.”

My ears flatten.

"Isn't there another way?"

"Well, did you have something in mind?"

I don't. I really don't know. I have no clue.

"We could just do it real quick and then train?" I suggest hopefully.

Rai shakes his head and laughs again.

"I don't think so. That's not going to teach you control nor will it help your stamina."

My tail drops to the bed sadly, and I look down.

“I mean, it’s perfect that you want to have sex with me. A little delay in gratification will help you sing better. It will increase the control you have over your body, which will increase the control you have over your song.”

“But…”

“But what? Why are you looking me as though I’ve physically wounded you?”

I drop my gaze for a moment and then glare up at him directly. He seems slightly startled by the intensity of my gaze.

“I want you to fuck me. I want to fuck you. I want us... to fuck.” I say the words as clearly as possible so he cannot mistake my meaning. “I don’t want to train first.”

He leans down toward me, crouching a little to get his gaze level with mine. He touches my nose gently—and suddenly, I recall the first time he ever touched me in the parlor at Applebaum’s. I didn’t know anything about him, but he felt free to touch me and fluster me. My body is flooded with even more arousal and heat, my fangs bare, and my claws draw. I’m sure my pupils dilate—because I watch his do the same.

“You are adorable. I’m very proud of you for stating your desires so directly. Good for you, little Sanga.” He kisses my lips—much more chastely than I expect. “However, you are here to train with me. It’s why you came with me, isn’t it? It’s what you requested of me.”

I nod my head slowly, terribly afraid of disappointment.

“So, I think you know what this means.”

I tip my head to the side.

“I want you to fuck me,” I repeat, keeping my voice soft—but I can hear a slight bratty tone come across. It sounds stubborn insistent and very unlike me. It's a little startling and I wonder if this is such a good idea.

“Hmm. I feel the same. I would like that, too. But right now, I’m going to ask you what my single requirement of you is. Do you remember?”

My fur bristles out fully and my ears flatten.

“Obedience. I have to do as you say.” My voice is slightly sulky and incredibly disappointed.

“That’s right. And what did I say?”

“That we are going to train.” 

“And you remember I said I’m not going to ask you to do anything unreasonable? That I have a good reason for asking you to do whatever it is I ask of you?”

I nod, and I drop my gaze. I’m a little ashamed of myself.

“No. Don’t be ashamed. We can use this energy. And I promise,” he leans in close and whispers softly in my ear, “I will make it worth your while. I won’t make you wait any longer than you can handle.”

I nod again, feeling tears in my eyes. But I look away quickly and climb out of bed. I do want to be here. I want a reason to be here. I want him to want me here. No, I want him to need me to stay at his side. Rai tells me he’s going to get dressed and returns when I am struggling with the leathers.

“They are still tight,” I complain softly. I notice the pants are particularly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, it seems there’s a reason for that,” Rai says neutrally but to my surprise, I watch his drawn claws ghost over my crotch. It’s obvious I’m still erect—not quite painfully so—but more than eager. Even that soft, teasing touch is almost more than I can bear. I can’t believe how arousing just that touch is! A small untoward sound slips from my mouth before I can bite it back. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re not upset with me. Though that probably wouldn’t affect our bond negatively, either.”

“You’re trying to make me mad?” I ask, somewhat ashamed of my behavior. He is busy lacing up my vest.

“Of course not. You’d actually be mad if I were trying to make you mad.” He speaks with such arrogant confidence! “Let’s go.”

I follow him downstairs and out the back door. The butler stops him, asking if we don’t want some breakfast first. Rai waves him off and says we will be in later. And then he stops.

“Did either of my brothers get back to me?”

“Yes. Koujaku for sure will join you for dinner. We are still waiting on the king’s response.”

“I expected as much. Just to be on the safe side, make enough for the king and his guest. He often fails to get back to me and just shows up unannounced.”

I’m a little surprised to hear Rai talk about the king this way. He makes him sound so… flaky. It’s unnerving and it doesn’t fit the image of the King of Sisa in my mind. The king is supposed to be reliable and do what he says he's going to do. Like... well, like Rai, I can't help thinking, and the image of the damned riding crop comes up in my mind unbidden.

We head out to the training area and get to work on my song. Rai was correct—my song flows much more easily and it seems I am able to control it a lot better than yesterday. I’m actually surprised that he was right. I guess it only makes logical sense. However, it doesn’t take care of my other, more pressing issue.

Making that worse is the fact that when I sing, I can clearly hear his thoughts and feelings—even what he isn’t saying out loud. I see where he is looking, how he is watching me move and watching my body and my ears and tail. I can tell he wants me. He is denying himself for the sake of this stupid training.

When that thought crosses my mind, Rai suddenly looks up at me, lifting his eyebrows. Oh shit. He can probably hear my thoughts as well!

"I meant..."

"I know what you meant. It's a side effect of the song, I'm afraid." He smiles at me. At least I'm not in trouble. But if he did get me in trouble, he'd probably make me take off my clothes...

"Oy. Think about what's in front of you," Rai interrupts the thought again.

I'm totally embarrassed for thinking that. What? I want him to spank me just so I can take off my clothes? That's ridiculous. And still, I can't quite push the image from my mind.

I feel impatient and strange, and that makes my song even stronger. The insistence inside me—the desire I have to touch him, to be touched—it makes so little sense when I think of a song intended for fighting. But suddenly—today—I understand for the first time. It isn’t about singing because I want to fight. It’s about singing and giving my strength to a person I want to protect, someone I love and in this case, someone I desire. Like, desire a lot.

We practice at least an hour before I am on my knees and unable to continue. He’s been training me with song and sword alternately, so I’m utterly exhausted, but my energy hasn’t dissolved into complete paralyzation. It’s so weird—since up till now, every time I have sung for anyone, even once, my energy is completely spent. But this is different. I can still move. Not well, but I’m not all the way spent.

“You did very well,” Rai is saying softly into my ear, as he holds me in the grass. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, I can still walk, I think.”

“Amazing. You did even better than I expected. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

I glare up at him incredulous and he just laughs. 

“It’s my job to care for your physical needs—all of them. And in my mind, hunger and thirst take priority.”

I am not pleased, and I climb to my feet.

“Fine. Let’s put the weapons away.”

I follow the silver cat to the storage shed and the moment we step inside, my fur bristles. It smells so amazing here—and it isn’t that I couldn’t smell Rai outside. But inside the storage area, there’s nowhere else for his scent to go. And he’s warm—he’s worked up a little bit of a sweat outside, too. He smells delicious.

My feet freeze in the door, and I hesitate for a moment. I almost don’t want to follow after him—I’m afraid of what I might do. I might not be able to control myself in such a confined area. It’s a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever had before—at least, not in this way.

It feels weirdly good.

“Come on,” Rai urges me, but then he turns to meet my gaze. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” My lie isn’t very convincing.

“Are you upset with me now?”

I shake my head.

“Then come in and put away your sword.”

I still don’t move.

Rai crosses his arms and looks at me.

“Kitten, do you remember my earlier rule?”

I glance up and a shiver courses down my spine.

“Um…”

“Do you remember?”

I nod slowly. I’m supposed to obey him. But I just can’t seem to make my feet move.

“Come in and put away your sword.” The words are spoken a little lower—and not exactly like a command, but like a promise. It makes me sweat even more. I can’t resist.

So I do obey. I come in, standing close enough for Rai to put away my sword. Then he walks back to the door—and closes it, trapping us both inside the shed. My heart floats to my mouth, beating loudly in my ears. And then he walks a little closer to me.

“So. I was thinking. I’m on the road traveling for more than half the year. I was wondering if you might be interested to know what that felt like.”

“Traveling?” I ask, a little bewildered and more than a little distracted by the activity happening below my waist. It feels like my body is melting. I work hard to maintain some sort of dignity without devolving into some animalistic behavior.

“Well, I more meant spending time in the great outdoors.”

“The great outdoors?” I ask. I’m quickly losing the battle with my body, and I’m starting to get nervous about what I might do. My claws are fully extended and I purse my lips to hide my fangs. My fur bristles up fully as well.

“Or sleeping in the great outdoors.”

“Sleeping?”

“You know. Spending time together, connecting, in the great outdoors.”

“We’re not exactly outdoors,” I point out.

“Would you like to be? I just was being considerate of your shy nature. I’ll take you out in that field if you don’t mind the servants as an audience.”

Desire shivers through my body and I open my mouth, after swallowing a bunch of saliva that has built up there.

“You are finally ready to have sex with me?” I want to confirm before I get into trouble.

“Only if you want to.”

“More than anything,” I breathe softly.

“Even after training with me? We could get you a shower first, get ourselves nice and clean before I dirty you up again.”

My ears twitch at his words. He is surprisingly direct sometimes, and I think sometimes he talks to me directly on purpose, using phrases he thinks will fluster me. And in this case, he has succeeded.

“It’s all right.”

“Taking a shower is all right?”

“Well, if you want to. But I, um…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to wait.”

“To be clear,” Rai says. “Here? Now?”

“However you want,” I breathe again. "Anything you want."

My voice sounds strange in my ears, and my body is humming oddly. I think I feel a song thrumming across my skin. It’s excited, anticipating, and utterly aroused. Stretching out my fingers, I watch with some degree of fascination as a soft light floats away from my fingers and entangles itself in Rai’s silver hair and fur. I can feel it—soft, silky, full, plush.

“I hear you,” Rai replies, and he pulls me into his arms, kissing me roughly while unhooking my vest. He pulls the laces off the pants as well, stripping me down to my shirt and underwear in a matter of seconds. I barely have a chance to breathe before I can respond in kind—but I do my best.

Carefully trying not to scratch him but unable to withdraw my claws, I pull his shirt off overhead after pulling him out of his leathers. My voice is clear and unrestrained—a more sexual sounding song, one more desperate, I have never sung before now. My body is humming with desire, throbbing to the beat of my heart, the beat of the song, and tears sting my eyes.

Kissing him, touching his skin, enjoying the warmth of his body and his powerful, cool scent—like Christmas—pleasure dissolves between us and works me into a frenzy.

“Slow down,” Rai whispers. “I want you to slow down and enjoy this.”

I am terribly anxious—eager to just hurry up and come—and I have to confess I am slightly frustrated by his words.

“I don’t want to. I’ve already waited too long.”

“Relax,” he purrs into my ear. “Breathe. You are safe here and I’m not going anywhere. Just… take your time. I think you'll enjoy it.”

He spends an extra long time touching my chest, slipping his hands beneath my shirt, pinching my nipples and stroking the soft fur below my navel. I can’t seem to quiet my voice—and the song only becomes louder and brighter. He smiles softly, his eyes reflecting almost gold in the light.

“I can’t believe you’re singing again.”

“I can’t really help it,” I blurt.

“You’re saying you aren’t controlling it?” Rai says, pulling away from me to look at my expression.

I’m afraid to answer truthfully—for fear he will stop touching me until I am able to control it. But he knows already, even if I don’t tell him.

“No. This is just natural.” Hopefully, that will be enough to urge him to continue. “Please don’t leave me like this.”

“Hmph.”

He continues petting me gently, pulling off my underwear and arranging me on his lap.

“I can’t wait anymore,” I whisper, climbing to my knees and pushing my body against his. My fur bristles in the wake of the soft touch on my tail—but he is careful not to overstimulate me, I notice. Instead, his fingers hover below the base of my tail, making me straighten up a little more when he touches me. “Please.”

“You are so beautiful—like some magical creature,” Rai whispers against my lips. 

I lean in and kiss him, and the moment our lips meet, a finger slips inside me. It glides right in as though it’s the most natural thing in the world and it feels so nice I can hardly believe it. My body is hot and anxious and overly excited. Everything he is doing feels good and there is no discomfort, no pain. I must still be in heat, I figure.

It isn’t long before a second finger slips inside me, and I am wrestling with his pants, trying to unbuckle his belt and underwear, stroking his cock with my claws as gently as possible. I can feel every breath he takes, even his slightest movement, because of my song. It’s connecting us in a deeper way than before—possibly because of the earlier training and because he made me wait.

When he cups my behind, I can feel enormous pleasure in the touch—both my own pleasure and his delight in it. When I caress the tip of his cock and press my thumb into his slit, I feel pleasure from the touch and from being able to make him feel good. It’s disorienting and intense, but so amazing.

He strokes my tail lightly, alternating between caressing my cock and my thighs and my fur, and it feels like he is touching me all over. I am almost in tears I am so riled up—and when I finally feel his cock pressing against my entrance, they spill over.

I’m on his lap—and so I lower my hips down on top of his—and he whispers again.

“Go slow. Take it easy. Enjoy it. Indulge in it.”

I do my best—and then my chin is touched lightly.

“Open your eyes. Let me watch you.”

Another shudder courses through my body, and I nearly come when our eyes meet. He’s barely inside me—but I feel him pushing against that sensitive spot deep within my body. His eye is on my face—his lashes plush and fluttering gently—as he lets me get comfortable on top of him.

Then, he thrusts his hips up, sending an indulgent shiver from the tip of my tail to the tips of my ears. I gasp and cry out—loud—almost in surprise. But he goes slowly, pressing my hips against his lap and encouraging me to slow down as well.

I do as I am guided, and he thrusts up from beneath me again, and this time I see him shiver with the same pleasure I am feeling. It’s incredibly intense—being able to feel his pleasure and directly sharing mine.

I wonder if sex is always like this, or if this is a special bond because we are Sanga and Touga. I don’t have time to worry about it, however, since he is busy making me come undone—ever so slowly.

When he does something I enjoy—he slows it down deliberately. It extends our connection in strange ways, but it feels so good. I start rocking my hips heavy and slow on his lap, really relishing the sensations in my body in a way I have never experienced.

My desire and lust burn hotter—like a flame inside my stomach—and I try to relax and rest in the moment, knowing that the longer I enjoy my own pleasure, the longer Rai will enjoy it as well.

If this is the goal and purpose of a bond between a Touga and Sanga, I’m never leaving his arms. It slips from my mind exactly what we had to do to get to this point, however. What would happen if we went for longer than a few hours—what would happen if he delayed connecting with my body physically for an entire day, I wonder?

My lips and the tips of my ears are numb, my tail is swaying back and forth gently—and then he moves again. He starts stroking my tail—from base to tip—in the same way he touched me out in the woods on the way here yesterday. It’s a different sort of pleasure than being stimulated inside—but I’m still experiencing that falling, chilling sensation of him inside me as well. 

Then, with his free hand, he tips up my chin and kisses my nose, backing up just enough so he can see my face. His lips are curved up in a smile and his face is soft and tender—and then he reaches down to my cock and starts fucking me with his hand—slowly—like he is moving his body, like I am moving, and like the hand on my tail is moving.

I bristle up fully and my claws come out again, unintentionally scratching his back, my purr and song are loud to a point of being obnoxious. My body starts to tingle and I gasp—moaning out loud—and suddenly am overwhelmed with sensation. The lust in my body is desperate to escape and spills out into my core, shaking me violently, even as slowly as we are moving. It feels—and really for the first time—that I have truly connected with Rai, that I know him—and I see inside of his mind.

There’s some frightening stuff in there, quite honestly. The level of desire he has for me, how much he restrains himself when he is around me—and why he would behave that way—astounds me. It almost feels as if there is something else inside him, watching us with a certain degree of hunger or envy or joy… and I don’t know what to think about that.

But fortunately, I don’t have time to think. I am busy right now—enjoying the most satisfying climax I can ever remember. It starts at my core and rushes out to every place Rai is currently touching—my cock, my tail, my ass, my insides, my chest, my lips—and makes me quiver with its power.

It feels strong and bright and warm—and in truth, it feels like my song.

The moment I climax, my song changes—into something still pulsing and throbbing, but softer and submissive and trusting. I don’t feel like I have submitted to anything—but my song feels… controlled.

I get to watch his face as he comes as well, and I feel everything when he spills inside my body. It’s hot and intimate—and incredibly close. I almost feel like I shouldn’t be doing this with him—like I’m not quite right, like I’m too young, too inexperienced, not strong enough to satisfy him. But his body isn’t acting like that in any case.

Once we have finished, we are both exhausted. A deep relaxation covers my body, flooding me with indulgent sleepiness. I sort of slump against Rai’s chest, enjoying his scent, enjoying the feel of his skin—for quite a while.

He’s been sitting on the ground—and gently nudges me off his body so he can pull out from inside me. I can’t help noticing that his pants are covered in grass and dirt—and I feel just a little guilty.

“What do you think?” His voice murmurs low and deep, resonating in my chest. He is still purring and it is so comforting.

“About what?” I ask softly, trying to stay awake and keep my eyes open. He is watching my chin droop occasionally with amusement.

“About the great outdoors? Would you want to live like that? With me?”

“Oh, my gods, yes. Please.” I mean every word. I would do anything to be able to experience something that intense again—and I mean anything.

“You’re exhausted. Let’s get you back inside.” He chuckles a little and stands up, scooping me up off the ground. He’s pulled my shirt down over my body, but he leaves everything else right where it is. I can’t help noticing a soft cool breeze caressing my ass and thighs as he carries me toward the house, which means I must be exposed.

“Um—my clothes—”

“You’re fine. No one will say anything to you.”

“It’s not that…”

“What? Are you ashamed of letting me fuck you? Are you ashamed that my staff might discover what we’re up to? They are delighted you're here. They have been nagging me for years about a partner.”

A partner? I think. Is that what a Sanga is to a Touga? Am I a partner? Rai’s partner? I can hardly believe it. The words soothe me so much that I forget I’m practically naked. The butler even nods his head with an indulgent expression on his face when Rai walks past him into the house.

He carries me upstairs and puts me to bed—crawling in after me and grooming my fur, letting me sleep till the afternoon.

Chapter Text

I wake alone in the afternoon—the moon of light is shining in through the window. I feel good—satisfied—safe. Unlike I have felt in many weeks, maybe even different from how I felt in Karou. Reaching my arms overhead and my tail out behind me, I stand up and give a long stretch.

Only after stretching out my body do I realize I’m still quite naked. And sticky. I’m still a little embarrassed about the sticky aspect of sex, so I figure a bath is in order. When I walk over to the bathroom, I realize I am a little sore beneath my tail and my hips ache. It isn’t a sharp pain—more like a dull ache. I flatten my ears uncomfortably and get to work in the shower.

I’m rinsing off the shampoo when I hear a soft knock at the door. A knock! It's still so weird!

“Yes?” I am hoping it’s Rai.

“May I come in?” It is my silver cat.

“Of course,” I reply, facing my body away from the door but turning to look over my shoulder. He enters the bathroom dressed in evening wear.

“How did you sleep? Are you feeling all right?”

“Um, yeah.” I hesitate to tell him I’m sore. I figure it’s normal. My body does weird things around him anyway. He doesn’t need to know all the details. Except then he asks.

“Are you sore?”

“Oh, um, a little?” My answer is slightly avoidant, and I turn off the water. He hands me a towel and helps dry my hair and body.

“It’s to be expected, I’m afraid. I’ve been trying to take it easy. You will get used to it in time. And you will let me know if it hurts.” It's more of a command than a request.

When I wander back out to the bedroom, I see an outfit on the bed. It’s blue and black brocade—and it’s lovely. Fancier than what I wore yesterday. Fit for a prince, I think.

“Does the outfit please you?”

I’m a little surprised by the question—but it does indeed please me.

“Y-yes,” I reply, and I start to get dressed. Even my underwear is black! I can’t help noticing that he is also wearing blue and black. He looks really nice—he is wearing his hair loose around his shoulders which reaches down to his waist. 

He helps me dress and then brushes out my hair and fur. I’m not sure how he manages it—and it might be the warm summer heat—but when he cares for my fur and hair after a bath, it dries much more quickly. I’d guess he has some experience with his own long fur and hair. I can’t ever remember my hair looking quite so shiny and healthy, either. His grooming feels like care—like he loves me and is expressing his feelings for me without words.

Honestly, I can still feel his emotions simmering beneath his skin, almost like there’s some physical connection that lets his feelings seep into my heart. I feel care, attraction, lust—gods, he really is insatiable, and part of me feels utterly pleased that I could inspire such powerful emotions in a cat like him. And when I relish his feelings for a little while, I also feel that strange, heavy sensation from him. It seems… a little frightening. Not like a cat at all. Almost like a predator.

I am going to ignore it for now. I will get to see my friends tonight, I think.

“Did you hear back from the king?”

“I haven’t,” Rai says. “He is often like this—he will show up or not, depending on his mood. I have a feeling he may not come tonight if he is still enjoying the season with his new friend.”

“Has he trained as a Touga as well?” I am still thinking about how quickly he moved.

“To a certain degree. But his talents come from his parentage. His mother is not my mother, you know. Koujaku had a different mother as well.”

I think I knew this, and I nod.

“It could make family relations difficult since my mother was not a queen when I was born.”

My ears flatten slightly.

“She was a mistress. Koujaku’s mother saw her as competition. She was eventually crowned, after Koujaku’s mother, um, passed away.” He hesitates when he speaks of the former queen’s death. I think about asking about it, but I figure he will tell me when he is ready. “There. You’re perfect.”

He smiles at me and turns me around, showing me my reflection in the mirror. I do look good, I think. I suit him, in fact.

This still feels completely unreal.

I follow him downstairs to the parlor. I see a piano there—I’ve never touched one before, but he notices I’m looking at it longingly. 

“Would you like to play?”

“I, um, I’m sure I don’t know how,” I say shyly.

“Feel free to try, if you like.”

Excited, I sit down at the bench and open it, displaying the keys. Tentatively, using the index fingers of both hands, I press down two keys. My ears flatten when the sound comes out much louder than I expect. I’m a little embarrassed that I frightened myself and even more, that Rai caught me doing such a thing. I peer up at him and he’s smiling, holding a hand in front of his mouth.

“Don’t mind me. Just play with it.”

I do—and it’s loud—and I’m embarrassed to do this in front of him. But it doesn’t take long for me to pick out a few scales. It would be better if my hands were bigger, I think—I could reach a little better. But I manage to make something that sounds like music in a short period of time. I close my eyes and feel it out as I play. I visualize the notes in front of me—each one is a different color, a different hue—and some blend well together while others contrast. It’s fascinating.

While I'm playing, Rai’s hands wrap around my waist from behind me. My fur bristles in surprise, since I haven’t heard him move. He lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers to me.

“So, as you’ve been playing, I was thinking about this morning. Do you remember our conversation?”

I nod.

“Perhaps we might continue the lesson—increase your stamina a little.”

With those words, he licks my ear, sending a visible shudder through my fur. I can’t help it—I mess up the notes I am playing when I tip my head to the side and pull up my shoulder to evade the sudden touch.

Part of me is confused. I’m sure sexual arousal is building reflexively in my body and all I want is for him to touch me more. I don’t know what is wrong with me—I’m not really some insatiable creature, most of the time.

“Perhaps just until the guests arrive…”

He starts licking my ears, kissing them, running his hands down my back—and my hands hit the keys of the piano loudly and dissonantly—but I can hardly help it. His touch feels so nice—and so good—and oh my gods we are in the parlor! Not only is the door open to the hallway, but the drapes are also open and I can see out the large bay windows anyone who approaches the house! Won’t we be caught?!

“You’re so anxious. Are you still afraid of me?” Rai whispers.

“N-not at all… but this is k-kind of public, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. We are at home. At my private home.”

“B-but… the door is open! The w-window…”

“You have your safe word, don’t you?” He doesn’t sound enthusiastic about me using it, and my stomach gets all warm and toasty—like something inside me is melting. 

I relax a little and let him touch me—and then I turn around on the bench and pull him in close for a kiss. His hands touch every part of my body over my clothes—and when I feel his hand cupping the front of my pants, a loud keening meow escapes from my lips. It feels so nice!

“Just remember… this is a continuation of the lesson,” he says against my mouth. “The goal is to teach you stamina. Slow down.”

I can hardly help my reaction, though, when he is touching me like this. I move his hand away from my crotch to lessen the stimulation, and he slips it behind me to stroke my tail. It bristles and waves, and I’m not sure that’s any better! Blood is pooling hopelessly in my waist. Excitement simmers under my skin—and I realize a song is right at the surface.

Closing my eyes and enjoying this gentle time, I let the song escape. It comes out softly at first—but it’s loaded with sexual desire. When it spills from my body and wraps around the silver cat, his pupil dilates and his purr lowers to a growl. He pulls me against his body roughly, tugging at the base of my tail, making me stand up.

He pushes me back against the bench, which slides under the piano. Then he presses my body back against the keys. They make a loud sound when I sit on them—dissonant and loud—and it’s almost funny. It’s not as though the entire house doesn’t know what we are doing in here. I continue kissing him, touching him, running my claws through my fur, and the light from my body fills the entire room in the late afternoon.

I do take things slowly—enjoying the touch, prolonging the pleasure, remembering how nice it felt when we had sex out in the shed—and I don’t feel nearly as desperate and frustrated as I did this morning. Well, I am sort of desperate. But I also feel his desperation as well. It’s a nice feeling—to be desired and wanted.

He only touches me on the outside of my clothes, my face, my fur, my hair—and my mouth. I have to struggle not to unbutton his vest or his pants—and I am swept away in the moment.

So swept away, in fact, that I didn’t even hear anyone arrive at the door.

There’s a sharp knock at the open parlor door.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” It’s a familiar voice and I bristle my fur in surprise. I feel heat filling my face, a blush scattering across my cheeks and into my ears. It’s Koujaku.

And he’s alone.

Where is Aoba?!

The fact that my blue-haired friend is not at his side makes me quickly stop what I am doing with Rai.

“Good evening, kitten. Aren’t you in a rather lovely state?”

“Thanks for coming,” Rai says, standing up and turning around. He also seems surprised to see his brother is alone. “Where’s the kitten?”

“Well, I think you have him right where you want him.”

“Aoba,” I clarify, trying to keep my voice calm. “Where is Aoba?”

Koujaku tips his head to the side, almost in confusion. What is going on?

“Ah. He’s… um…”

“Don’t tell me you left him at that damned school!” Rai says, his voice sharp. “Are you stupid?! What the hell are you thinking?!”

“No… I just didn’t think—”

“Obviously,” Rai interrupts. “You don't ever think! What are you waiting for?”

“He didn’t seem interested.”

I flatten my ears. Of course, Aoba is interested!

“You’re completely oblivious,” Rai scoffs. “I cannot believe you’re related to me.” He rubs his temple in irritation, casting me a quick glance. I think he’s trying to discern if I am okay. “Let me go check on dinner. Make yourself at home.”

He gets up and takes a couple of long strides out of the parlor, leaving me alone with Koujaku.

“You left Aoba at Applebaum’s?” I am still stunned, and I feel terribly guilty.

“Well, he’s stayed with me from time to time before.”

“He’s all alone there! Akira is with the king, and Aoba is alone!”

“Kitten,” Koujaku says, walking up to me. His pupils are slightly dilated. “It’s sweet that you worry so much about your classmate but in truth, he was awfully petty toward you. He told me he even got you punished.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Aoba has been at that school for several years now. He can handle himself.”

“You don’t want him at your side?”

“Of course I want him. I just have to make sure the timing is right. What would you know about that? My brother doesn’t have a patient bone in his body. He took you the moment he could get his hands on you. It doesn’t leave the rest of us with much choice.”

Choice? What choice? What the hell is he talking about?

“I’ll tell you what. If Aoba means that much to you, why don’t you sing for me? If you sing for me like you were just singing for my little brother, I’ll head over to Applebaum’s directly after dinner and bring him home with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I heard and saw that song you were singing for Rai when I walked in, and I want to feel it—for me. I heard you sing at the auction, but you were singing for him. I want you to sing for me—just once—and then I will rescue Aoba.”

This is completely fucked up!

“I thought you loved him!” I burst out angrily. “I know he loves you! He’s crazy about you!”

“He’s young. He has a lot to learn. And there are many students who will look out for him. He has a large fanbase at the school. You weren’t there long enough to see it, I’m sure.”

I purse my lips. He can’t be serious!

“So you don’t love him?”

“I do care for him very much,” Koujaku says. “I just think he has a lot to learn. Like a certain other kitten I know. So. Take me up on my offer?”

“You want me to sing for you?” When I say it out loud, of course I hear Rai’s voice echoing in my head. Hell, I hear the snap of the riding crop when I say it out loud! There’s no way I'm ever going to sing for anyone else!

“If you sing for me just once, I will fetch him. You'll be saving him.”

“If you loved him, you’d go get him on your own and save him from that abuse!”

“That’s true—but why would I do that when I have the chance of a lifetime to hear a genuine Sanga’s song?”

“You’ve already heard me sing.”

“I also saw you dance. But you weren’t doing either of those things for me.”

“I’m, um, I’m not supposed to sing for anyone other than Rai,” I say, lowering my gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“He only has one rule I’m supposed to obey. The one thing he’s asked of me is to not sing for anyone else, at least not until my power stabilizes. And that is all.”

“Is that right?” Koujaku laughs. “He’s always been jealous. He knows as much about Sangas and Tougas as the rest of us! That’s a bunch of horse shit. He’s just jealous and wants to keep you to himself.”

“He… he, um, punished me when I sang for Akira.”

“And yet, you wouldn’t have done that any differently, would you? You see how unreasonable his request of you is, don’t you? You have the power to save your friend!”

I don’t reply. I don’t think it’s unreasonable. Even if Rai is jealous, I don’t mind that so much. But on the other hand, could a simple song really save Aoba? Why is Koujaku acting like this?

“All you have to do is open your pretty little mouth and sing for me—just a short, quiet song—just for me. And that’s all you need to do to save your friend.” 

“I can’t. I promised Rai—”

“Maybe Aoba isn’t as good of a friend as you claim,” Koujaku interrupts me. “You’d cater to my baby brother’s petty jealously over the well-being of your friend?”

My ears flatten again, and I drop my gaze. He’s right. I sang purposely to save Akira and I’m not sorry I did that. I’d do it again. But somehow, singing for Rai’s brother in Rai’s own house seems a little much. It's too flagrant.

“You hesitate too long. You’d best make up your mind quickly before he returns. Do it quietly. He’ll never even hear you.”

My body is sweaty and nervous, but I can’t leave Aoba at that school alone. He’ll be abused beyond recognition! What if Shiki hurts him? I know this is a stupid decision to make, but I don’t see any other way out of this.

“All right,” I whisper. I close my eyes and concentrate.

I’m angry at Koujaku for putting me in this position. And I’m still aroused from fooling around with Rai earlier. But I try my best to ignore my arousal and instead focus on my anger—and my desire to help Aoba. The song simmers softly beneath my skin—and thankfully, I am much more focused than I was when I sang for Akira.

Releasing the melody makes a soft white light spill from my body—and it dissolves into a mist, just like it did when I sang for Akira. But Koujaku can feel it, though the mist fills the room and seeps out the door. Gods—I do my best to control it and keep it quiet—and I watch as Koujaku relaxes with a look of something like ecstasy on his face.

It makes me really uncomfortable. It feels dishonest—like I am cheating on Rai—and my heart aches. Pain and regret come across in my song, as does my desperate desire to save Aoba. Just thank the gods I manage to keep things so quiet…

And then suddenly, Rai barges into the room. Before I can stop singing, he strides up to me and grabs my ear, harshly. This is the roughest he has handled me since I’ve been here. He touched me like this when I sang for Akira, too—and the effect is immediate. My song is choked off half-way, and Koujaku looks up, disappointed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rai says, his voice low and utterly calm. I feel fury simmering beneath his skin though, and it frightens me.

“I get it now!” Koujaku says, smiling wickedly. “I totally get it now! I mean I always thought he was cute, but that—that’s just unbelievable. I can't believe you keeping him all to yourself.”

Rai jerks up his chin and narrows his eye at his brother, and then glares back at me.

“I asked you a question.”

“I-i w-was… I was j-just trying to save Aoba.”

“What?”

“He said that he would rescue Aoba from Applebaum’s if I sang for him. I tried to make it quiet, but I had to save him!”

Rai’s expression changes to exasperated rage.

“I couldn’t leave him there, Rai! If I didn’t sing, he’d be abused in my place!” I sob. Tears spill down my face—guilty tears—and I feel terrible.

“Didn’t you feel it in your heart? When you sang for someone other than me? I could hear it in your song—the guilt, the regret, the pain for singing for someone else?” Rai asks, his voice calm, but he has not released my ear.

I deserve this pain, I know.

“Yes, yes. You’re right! I’m sorry—but I just couldn’t be responsible for leaving Aoba there!”

Rai sighs heavily.

“Come with me,” he says quietly. “Please excuse us,” he scoffs at Koujaku.

He releases my ear and drags me by my arm to another room not far from the parlor. At least he’s not going to punish me publicly.

“One rule. I have only one rule, kitten.” He sounds so disappointed in me and that makes me cry even harder. “And you know it well. I can see from your tears that you understand it. What were you thinking?”

“I’m s-so s-sorry,” I stammer and sob. “Please! Forgive me! I j-just couldn’t—”

“If you were so worried about Aoba, why didn’t you ask me to fetch him for you? Why didn’t you say something to me directly? You asked about him and Akira, but I had no idea how important the issue was to you.”

I look up, my tears blurring my eyes. I’m kneeling on the floor, looking at Rai standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips.

“If you had bothered to ask me—tell me what was bothering you—I could have told you that Koujaku was out of town yesterday. I assume he plans to pick up your little friend after dinner tonight.”

My ears flatten.

“What?” The word falls from my lips.

“He tricked you.”

“He wanted to hear my song that much?”

Rai rolls his eyes and sighs again.

“Look, he has always envied what falls into my lap and what falls into the laps of others.”

“I-i didn’t know!” I burst out. “I’d never have done it if I knew!”

“And yet, you did.”

I lower my face to the ground, utterly dismayed. And angry! 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” I burst.

Rai raises his eyebrows but his voice is still calm.

“Are you yelling at me?”

“If you had told me, I wouldn’t have been tempted!”

“How could I have known if you didn’t say anything?” He is not raising his voice in the least. And I know he is right. I can feel it. I know I am in the wrong here.

“I’m…” I’m at a loss for words. He approaches me and touches my chin, gently, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

“You’re what?”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I was very wrong. I chose to disobey you again.” My stomach is upset and my ass is tingling in anticipation.

“Do you understand what went wrong?”

“I sang for your brother—”

“I mean, do you understand what happened that got us to this point?”

I pause for a moment, thinking about my answer carefully.

“I didn’t tell you how worried I was for Aoba and Akira. I mentioned it but I downplayed it. I didn’t ask you to help me. I, um, took it into my own hands.”

“Good kitten. I know you feel remorse.”

I’m angry, too. Part of me thinks Rai could have been more forthcoming if he knew anything about Koujaku and Aoba. He mentioned the king's plans for Akira, after all! I drop my gaze to hide my anger.

“And you know what comes next?”

I sob softly and I shake my head, showing resistance.

“Come now. We’ve discussed this. Save your tears for when you need them. Get on your feet.”

I obey, keeping my eyes down. The room we're in appears to be an office, now that I have a chance to look around.

“Walk over to my desk, please.”

This is really happening—and none of it needed to! This is just so stupid! I move my heavy feet to stand in front of the desk.

“Take off your belt.”

I hesitate for a moment. Is he really going to spank me with my own belt? My fingers toy with the buckle for a minute before I comply.

“Don’t make this worse than it already is,” Rai whispers. 

“I-i’m s-sorry.” I can’t think of anything else to say and I want to stay here with him. So I go ahead and take off my belt with shaking fingers. Rai takes it from my hands and brushes his fingers through my hair.

“Lower your pants and underwear to your knees.”

“Please!” I beg again, turning to look at him over my shoulder. “I didn’t know! I didn’t realize—”

“Did you understand the consequences of disobedience?” Rai asks, his voice very soft. He is still standing very close to me—close enough to touch my cheek. It’s really an affectionate touch. “I have one rule. And this rule may no longer apply once you learn to control your song.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.” I’m defeated and discouraged. I turn toward the desk and unbutton my pants and pull them down to my knees, hesitantly following with my underwear.

“You do wish to remain at my side?” Rai asks, his voice utterly soft. There’s not a trace of anger or frustration in his tone.

“Yes!” I burst out.

“If you do, then you must obey me.”

“I know,” I sob. “I’m very sorry.”

At least he isn’t directly threatening to send me back to Applebaum’s. I’m relieved about that, I guess. But this feels extreme and unfair to me—at least right now. I feel bad for disobeying him, for falling for Koujaku’s deception. He just wanted to hear me sing—or he knew that my singing for him would get me punished and he wanted to see me punished. It feels so unfair!

“Bend over the desk, please. Dig your claws into the opposite side. Since this is the second time you’re disobeyed this single rule, your punishment will be more extreme than the first.”

Another sob slips out, but I do as I'm bid, feeling shame course from my heart throughout the rest of my body. I’m still angry—at Koujaku, at Rai, at my own expectations of myself—but I’m struggling to retain the same sense of unfairness I was just feeling when I’m bent over a table half-naked. Being positioned like this makes me just feel sorry. My chest lurches in another sob, and Rai’s hand runs through the fur on my fuzzy tail. Having him touch me is so intimate—and it dissolves even more of the anger in my chest. Tears slip down my face and I let go of the table.

“Please, I’m so sorry!” I beg, grabbing onto his shirt with both hands. “Please!”

“Kitten,” he purrs softly, pressing the palms of my hands so my claws will release his shirt. “I know you are sorry. But you understand that actions have consequences, don’t you?”

I nod, still weeping quietly.

“Then get back into position so we can get this over with.”

I obey—hesitating only a moment. It isn’t so much that I feel like I don’t deserve punishment—I really feel terrible about this now. I just want to be sure I am forgiven.

“Don’t move your hands.” Rai pets my tail and my ass one more time and then his presence backs away from me. Fear shoots through my chest and I tense up, digging my claws into the top of the desk.

I have been belted before—at Applebaum’s, publicly, during tea and on display for everyone there. That was intended to humiliate me and in comparison, because he moved me to a private room, this isn’t supposed to be that humiliating. But somehow, because it’s Rai meting out the consequences of my actions, it’s almost more embarrassing than when Virus whipped me.

The snap of the belt—my belt—is particularly loud and dangerous. It makes my ears twitch and my tail jerk. The sound the belt makes when it connects with my skin is louder and more embarrassing than I remember—a solid slap—which is, of course, followed by my cry. 

Even after the first blow, my song spills again—submissive, repentant, and sweet—and though the song itself is soft and gentle, it feels like Rai is tearing it from my body. My chest hurts—my heart aches—and I want to please him. 

It doesn’t take long at all before I am sobbing and desperate—struggling to keep my claws dug into the desk, pulling myself down over the top, pushing my feet into the floor to keep my legs from kicking and fighting.

To my surprise, the punishment probably only lasts about ten lashes before it stops. My ass is on fire—and I can feel the welts from the riding crop two days ago as though they are fresh as well. Indeed, despite its short duration, the pain from the riding crop did not come close to this spanking with a belt. (My belt. Which I offered to him freely.) Once Rai stops, my entire body relaxes and crumples onto the desk, and I let my legs hang off the edge, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry! Forgive me!” I realize I’ve been repeating the words again and again like a mantra, and when Rai’s fingers caress my raw skin—so gently, so tenderly—just like he touched me earlier when we were in the shed—my heart feels like it might break.

“You’re forgiven, little Sanga.” He sighs heavily—and the disappointment in his tone makes me cry even harder. “Now, now. That’s enough. You did very well. You were very obedient. Come here.”

I immediately turn around at his invitation—ignoring my state of undress, the snot and tears on my face—and push my face against his chest, letting his arms surround me. He smells so nice—so comforting—and I hear a quiet alarm bell ringing in my head.

“His entire bloodline is tainted with violence.”

“… the one guest who will surely eat you alive!”

“He is not known for his mercy.”

“Sometimes the most violent people outside the bedroom are also the worst inside.”

“His reputation is earned!”

“You will find out firsthand what sort of brutal tastes he has!”

All those warnings about Rai and his reputation echo in my head—while I am relaxing and crying in his powerful, comforting arms. Is this what I am witnessing? Is this brutal and unfair treatment? Why don’t I recognize it as such?

Perhaps because Rai warned me he would punish me if I sang for someone else—and his single requirement of me—as my master, as the person raising me to be a Sanga—was to obey him and that command. Maybe that’s why this punishment feels like it was earned. I don’t know how to get better at singing, and Rai seems to know what will make me better and his methods seem to be working, even during this short period of time.

But still. Is this wrong?

“Hush, kitten. You know I don’t enjoy having to punish you. I’m very proud of how much you’ve learned and how eager you are to grow. It’s just of the utmost importance that you save your song for me alone.”

What if this is jealousy? What if you were just punished because the silver cat is overly jealous?

And then right away, I think, so what? He is allowed to be jealous. He is my new master and it’s my job to please him. Even if I am being punished out of jealousy, he isn’t spiteful or terribly cruel about it. Right now, in fact, he is comforting me in his arms.

“Shh. It’s all right. You did very well. You pleased me. Calm yourself. And quiet your song. It’s all right now. It will exhaust you.”

I feel slightly confused, but his touch is so comforting, I just allow myself to revel in it for a while. The phrase, “out of the frying pan and into the fire,” blips again in my head, and I push the thought away. I’m here because I want to be here. I want to be with him. He even told me I wouldn’t have to go back to Applebaum’s if I didn’t choose to stay with him.

I’m enjoying Rai’s fingers running down my back and carefully petting my sore behind—and the longer I indulge in this touch, the less time I will have to spend with Koujaku. I realize I have to go back out to dinner and act normal—or act as though this is normal. 

In some ways, Koujaku did what Aoba did. They are alike in that sense, I suppose, getting me punished for the sake of being punished. Maybe I did something to offend them. But I can’t deny that it felt awful to sing for him. It felt wrong. I felt like I did indeed deserve that punishment, in spite of anything Koujaku may have said. I had my priorities backward and I should have simply asked Rai for help—for what I wanted—for him to help my friend. And he would have worked with me.

Closing my eyes, it doesn’t take much longer for me to settle down. I relax and inhale Rai’s comforting scent, and I’m already starting to feel better.

Chapter Text

Riding off into the sunset in the royal carriage in the arms of the king himself to go live happily ever after in his grand palace had never been something Akira had ever bothered to fantasize about. None of that corny romantic fairytale crap had ever appealed to him in the slightest. But even if he had imagined such an absurdly unlikely scenario, it wouldn’t have gone anything like this.

His brain still couldn’t process everything that happened after Shiki started tearing off his uniform in the school garden. It was all a blur. Konoe’s song surrounding him only to fizzle into nothingness, Nano’s impossibly fast counterattack, Shiki’s look of pure terror, Konoe’s punishment at the hands of the bounty hunter, Nano’s unexpectedly poignant speech to Virus, his own newfound freedom from this hellish nightmare… all the while punctuated by Konoe’s cries of pain, every one of which made his breath hitch in his throat. Pain… mixed with tendrils of unexpected pleasure. It was all too much to take in at once. He felt dizzy.

“…Will you come with me, Akira?”

Nano’s serene voice whispering in his ear cut through the fog of his mind and sent shivers down his spine. The king was still holding him close against his body, enveloping him in his scent, caressing him as tenderly as one would a frightened kitten.

Akira didn’t have to think twice about his answer.

“Hell yes. Let’s get out of here. Now.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than his body began moving of its own accord. He had no intention of waiting for Trip, or whoever the hell Virus sent to gather his things. He was packed so fast you’d think he had been planning this escape for years. Once he crossed the threshold, he barely spared a glance back at the wretched place. If he never saw it again, it would be too soon.

Konoe was still singing for the bounty hunter, but it was sounding more and more like a long-forgotten echo in the back of his mind than anything real. The kitten’s song was already fading from his heart and mind. Perhaps their connection really was severed. In a way, it was a relief, but a part of him ached. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t any of his business. Konoe was happy like this. He could feel it in his song, even as he was punished. Willing submission. The song of a caged bird as its wings were clipped.

But there was nothing Akira could do about it… at least not here. In the meantime, he had himself to worry about. Sighing, he tried his best to seal tight the doors of his heart. Not caring about anyone else was one of his best talents, after all.

Or at least… it used to be.

A slight blush rose to Akira’s cheeks as he took the king’s hand and stepped into the royal carriage. His former life as a sex slave was officially over… though weirdly, he didn’t really feel any different. Freedom felt as natural to him as drawing breath. Maybe it was because he’d never really thought of himself as a sex slave in the first place. Sure, he’d been forced against his will to act out a role, but never once had it fit.

Glancing back, Akira couldn’t help but catch the eye of Shiki scowling in rage. The corners of his lips curved up in a smug smirk that only seemed to piss his former fencing instructor off more.

Now THAT was something Akira HAD fantasized about. Seeing those fiery red eyes narrowed with unfulfilled lust and futile hatred was every bit as satisfying as he’d always imagined it would be.

Fuck him.

Fuck all of them.

As soon as Akira was safely inside the carriage, Nano gave the signal to the drivers to be off. The doors shut behind him, but he didn’t feel caged in. He took his seat opposite Nano, stretching out his limbs and glancing around curiously at his new surroundings, still a bit incredulous that all of this was happening so quickly. His eyes naturally gravitated towards Nano, running down his slender body hungrily, unable to quell the memory of how good it felt to be inside him.

The king held his gaze expressionlessly. His lips were slightly parted as though he might speak, but no words came. After a moment, Nano picked up a thick book from the seat beside him. Akira furrowed his brow as he watched him idly flip through it, shifting his bookmark when he found the right page.

Well. Okay then. Maybe he was in the middle of a really good chapter?

Despite the obvious pretense, Nano didn’t seem to be concentrating very well on his novel. His expression may have been neutral, but his pale cheeks were obviously flushed, pupils dilated, irises flickering iridescent purple, hands faintly trembling… and he smelled absolutely delicious. His heat was even stronger now than it was the night before. His breath was heavy, and he looked almost feverish. Was it just from their proximity? Was it his own presence that was making the king like this?

Akira would have felt proud of himself that he’d managed to make his partner feel any pleasure at all his very first time topping, but… holy shit, he never expected he’d do THIS good. The king of Sisa had ordered his release after just one night in his arms and was now trembling in heat just from the memory of what Akira had done to him… no thanks to everything that had been drilled into his head about submission at Applebaum’s. He felt like he’d beaten Virus and Trip at their own stupid game. This had to be some kind of new record… didn’t it?

Alas, feverish as he was, Nano was still pretending to read. The faint tremor Akira had noticed before had gotten stronger and he was starting to sweat. The king closed his eyes, forcing his wild breath to steady. Akira furrowed his brow, wondering vaguely why the king would even bother with such a modest gesture when it was plainly obvious that he was in heat and in the presence of a compatible mate. He certainly hadn’t bothered with any such modesty last night. It made no sense to start now.

Nano shifted, flipping through the book, brushing his light brown ringlets out of his eyes, lips parted and panting. His travel attire was far planer than his elegant evening wear from last night, yet Akira couldn’t help but think that it suited him better. It was still elegant, in an understated sort of way, and he looked a lot more comfortable in it. His clothes today were fresh and clean, simple brown and beige with leather boots, cut to hug his figure in just such a way that it drew the eye. Akira couldn’t help but notice, his eyes drawn instinctively to the curve of his hip. He wondered if the king’s attire was intended for his benefit to entice him… or maybe that was too much wishful thinking.

As he stared, Akira’s hands ran over his thighs… and he realized belatedly that he was still wearing his torn school uniform. Damn it. A faint blush rose to his cheeks. He hadn’t even thought about his own attire before they left - he just wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible. Feeling a little self-conscious, he tugged at the ripped seam on the shoulder of his jacket, trying to piece together the open front of his white dress shirt and vest now that Shiki had sent the buttons flying in every direction.

“…Are you cold, Akira?”

Akira nearly jumped when he heard Nano’s deep, husky voice cut through his thoughts, blushing heavily when he saw that the king’s eyes were fixed on his hands fidgeting with the front of his torn dress shirt.

…They were bright purple.

“N-no… your hi- I mean, um… Nano? Do… you still want me to call you Nano?” Like… outside of the bedroom? He wanted to add.

Nano was silent. Violet eyes, now swirling with grey, roved over his half-clothed body hungrily as if trying to devour him. It felt a little intrusive, like all of his innermost thoughts and desires were being torn out of him and examined one by one. The look the king was giving him was dangerous. Predatory. His heartbeat accelerated under the intense scrutiny of Nano’s gaze, but Akira refused to budge. When the king’s eyes settled on his crotch, Akira realized belatedly that he’d gone rock hard.

Gods, this was awkward. He had no idea if he was supposed to keep up the performance from last night or start acting as common etiquette dictated one should in the presence of royalty. Not that Akira had ever really paid much attention to such bullshit, even with Virus and Trip breathing down his neck and threatening to hold him down and shove ginger up his ass if he wasn’t ‘polite’ enough. There was very little Akira hated more than meaningless social rules.

So if that’s what Nano expected from him now… well, he was royally fucked, because that was NOT going to happen.

Nano lifted his chin, regarding him for a moment more in silent contemplation as their eyes met. His expression did not change. Akira held his gaze, narrowing his eyes and stubbornly refusing to break away. His deep voice seemed a bit breathier than usual.

“…It does not matter. Titles are nothing more than transitory vanity, as ephemeral as the flame of a candle flickering in the breeze. Only fools confuse them with substance.”

The king had barely moved a muscle, yet to Akira’s eyes, his cold gaze seemed to soften a little, matching the soothing timbre of his voice.

“Names hold meaning only to those who bestow them, and those upon whom they are bestowed. You may refer to me as you please. If you call, Akira… I will answer.”

Akira blinked. Well, as sophisticated as that sounded, it probably meant that he could just act normally, then. That was a huge relief. A soft smile graced his lips when their eyes met, and for once it wasn’t faked. Just then Akira noticed…

The king was still wearing his collar from the night before.

Akira’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes locking on the black leather. It stood out dramatically against Nano’s pale white skin, far darker than the faded neutrals he was otherwise draped in.

It may as well have been an open invitation.

Instinctual lust and power flooded his veins, overriding any concerns about his ruined school uniform, or whatever the hell proper social etiquette dictated in the presence of royalty. Nano clearly did not care about such things. As their eyes met, he could hear the king’s voice echo in his mind, almost as clearly as though he had spoken aloud:

“Do as you please. I am yours, Akira.”

Nano belonged to him.

In the span of a single day, Akira had gone from slave to master. Nano had torn the whip from Virus’s claws, only to kneel in supplication and offer it to him instead.

It was hard to believe this wasn’t just a crazy fantasy. This was really happening. Akira was so shocked, he didn’t know what to say.

“Were you… still wearing my collar back at Appleaum’s…?”

Of course, Akira knew the answer to that question already; he just couldn’t believe it. His face felt hot. Nano had attacked Shiki and overridden Virus’ authority to save him, all while wearing the collar Akira had given him the night before. Not only wasn’t he embarrassed in the slightest that he had taken on the submissive role in the bedroom, willingly spreading his legs for someone the rest of the world would call a common whore, he clearly didn’t give a single shit if everyone in the kingdom knew it.

Nano’s long eyelashes lowered, though his voice remained as calm as ever.

“…You said, ‘keep it, and wear it next time you see me.’ So I thought… if you want me, then I want to see you again as soon as possible.”

Akira’s heart was beating in his throat. It was an intense power rush to have another person so readily and openly display their desire to submit their body to his lust, especially someone so attractive… but it still blew his mind that this strange, demure, eloquent, slightly awkward man was a king. The king.

Finally, Akira found his words.

“…When I woke up this morning… you were gone… I thought…”

The king’s face remained expressionless, his long eyelashes rising to show off his hypnotic eyes.

“All dreams must come to an end. But… I wished for ours to continue a little longer.”

Suddenly it dawned on him.

“…You were trying to make arrangements to stay with me…”

Nano said nothing, but his lowered eyelids spoke for him.

“If… you hadn’t intervened when you did… Would you have taken me anyway?”

“…If you would have me. It was a selfish wish… but we Ribika are selfish creatures. I knew from the moment I met you that when the morning came I would have to awaken from this beautiful dream, and yet… when I held you in my arms, soft and warm, and felt your breath on my neck, I did not wish to leave you.”

‘…If you would have me.’ Such an odd thing to say to a sex slave who didn’t really have any choice in the matter… not that he would’ve turned him down. Akira couldn’t help but remember how sweet and affectionate this cat had been to him the previous night… how he had fallen asleep with Nano snuggled against him, gently grooming his furry ears. It had broken his heart to think that this cat would be gone in the morning.

Nano looked up, his eyes searching.

“I’m sorry… Akira… I did not know then that they were hurting you.”

Akira was silent. He didn’t know much about Nano’s history… but he’d been a whore long enough to recognize that look Nano was giving him. The king wanted him. He wanted him so badly every bone in his body ached. His violet eyes were like a hungry predator… but for some reason, he was trying desperately to restrain himself. Even in heat, it felt like there was something else the king craved, even more than sex.

But he couldn't abide this passiveness. It was pointless. If Nano wanted sex, he should be more assertive about it. After all, Akira wanted him just as badly. He couldn’t get the image of Nano lying beneath him out of his mind. For the first time in his life… he was more than happy to indulge his client’s every desire.

…No. Scratch that. Nano wasn’t his client anymore. This was on his own terms. The only reason Akira was doing this with him now was because he wanted to. He wanted him.

Akira realized he was growling under his breath, the images in his head growing increasingly explicit. He wanted Nano bent over the plush velvet seats of his royal carriage, gasping and delirious. That thought was something akin to euphoria.

“…Put that book down and come over here, Nano.”

The low growling undertone in his voice surprised even him. But it worked like a charm. Nano didn’t waste a second in obeying. Wordlessly, he slipped his bookmark between the pages and set it not on top of, but underneath his seat. Akira smiled to himself at the subtle gesture. They were on the same page, it seemed. The king must have a pretty good idea as to what was coming next.

Nano dropped to his knees on the dark wood floor before him, looking up at Akira through long eyelashes as though in supplication before a divine being. Anyone else probably would’ve described his expression as blank or neutral, but to Akira, his eyes were pleading and hungry. A trickle of violet coursed through his irises, growing stronger and brighter, like a storm looming on the horizon.

Akira hadn’t even realized how aroused he was before the king’s hand ghosted over the bulge in his trousers on its way to unhook his belt. He gasped, unprepared for the faint electric shock he always felt when the two of them touched. Though it still felt a bit odd, it wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was starting to turn him on.

Nano’s eyes flicked upwards, as though seeking permission to continue. In response, Akira simply licked his lips, enjoying the way the king’s soft wavy hair felt as he nuzzled his head against Akira’s lap, lips closing over his crotch to mouth his erection through his clothes. Even that indirect stimulation was intensely erotic.

…But the fantasy images flickering behind his closed eyelids were showing something entirely different and far more explicit. He wanted to be inside Nano. It was by far the most intimate thing he had ever experienced, and also the most pleasurable. His mind was swimming in circles. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

If this was the stage show, Akira would tell Nano directly what he wanted. He’d tell him to turn around, drop his trousers and bend over… and punish him for disobedience if he didn’t comply and offer himself immediately. But it wasn’t, and that sounded a little boring. He liked this sort of spontaneity, and something about Nano’s eager hesitancy as he sought out how best to please him was really turning him on. Maybe it was because he knew that this was no act.

With each flick of his enchanting eyes, the king’s spotted brown ears slowly folded back in submission. It made him look surprisingly innocent, despite the boldness of his actions.

By way of encouragement, Akira ran his hand through the king’s light brown curls and soft furry ears, smiling to himself when Nano closed his eyes and began to purr against his crotch. It almost tickled at first, but soon enough the vibration had him leaking through his school pants. 

Remembering his ruined uniform, Akira tore open the rest of his vest, slipping out of his shirt as quickly as possible. He let out a small gasp as Nano’s lips and tongue moved up to lick and suck at his nipples, squirming under the king’s eager ministrations. He shivered every time those sharp fangs grazed his tender flesh.

Each time Akira curled his fingers through Nano’s hair or tenderly caressed his cheek, the king sighed softly, continuing to purr. He reacted so strongly to even the gentlest touch that it was almost like he had never been touched like this before. Maybe he really hadn’t. A trickle of deep sadness coursed through Akira’s chest before being swallowed up again in a sea of lust.

Nano was right. Fuck titles. The cat before him was a gorgeous creature. It would have turned him on to see Nano like this even if he were simply a local peasant or just another charity student like Aoba or Konoe.

…The latter was a very weird mental image, considering all of the tastelessly obscene things that had been done to him and the other charity students at Applebaum’s. He tried to shake the image of Nano bound and helpless on the auction stage off as best he could, but it was too late - his mind was already on an evil downward spiral.

Just how much would Nano willingly submit to? How far could he take it? What kind of games could they play together, now that the tables were turned and Akira was the one in charge?

The answer to the last question came to him with delicious clarity: …Anything I want.

It was too much. Akira couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached down and hooked his fingers underneath Nano’s collar, drawing his gaze upwards. Fingers swept through light brown waves, pulling back his head into a more convenient position to lay claim to his lips. They wasted no time. Lips clashed, tongues intertwined, and Akira couldn’t help but wonder at his own sudden aggression as he bit down on Nano’s lower lip, trapping it between his own and sucking hard until the taste of iron trickled onto his tongue, claiming Nano as his own.

“I can’t wait any more…” Akira purred, dropping his voice to a whisper and running the tip of his tongue along Nano’s lips. “Take off your clothes. I want you stripped down to nothing but that collar.”

Those gorgeous eyes once again flashed purple. It was hypnotic. He’d never seen a cat with purple eyes, though he had noticed that some cats' eyes looked different in different lighting. Nano’s however…  the way his shifted from dull and lifeless to iridescent… didn’t seem to have anything to do with the light.

Nano wasted no time stripping out of his clothes… though for some strange reason he still took the time to fold them afterward. Akira frowned. He was an odd cat.

Nano looked up at him through long eyelashes with his ears slightly back in submission, purring contentedly as he climbed onto Akira’s lap, straddling him on the seat. He had the most wonderful scent - like taking an evening stroll through an enchanted pine forest and stumbling upon a hidden garden just beginning to bloom. It blended well with the fresh rain and subtle orchid scent of his own body, as though they were meant to go together. His scent was stronger today than it was last night, but somehow, Akira knew that he hadn’t yet hit the peak of his heat. He didn’t think he had, either… though considering this was the first season he was spending with a compatible mate, he had very little to go on.

The knowledge that this strange, beautiful cat on his lap was his mate, at least for the season, turned him on immensely. Akira had never had a mate before. Gods, did he feel good. Nano’s translucent skin was soft to the touch, even with his claws catching on the ridges of his scars. He could feel the outlines of his ribs beneath his skin, but overall it was apparent that he was eating fairly well at the palace… though perhaps not as well as Akira might have imagined a king would be. Nano was surprisingly curvy for someone as thin as he was, perhaps a little like Aoba. His hips weren’t wide like Konoe’s, but his ass was plump and round… and entirely too distracting in this position…

The moment Akira’s hands slid down to Nano’s hips, claws curling into that supple flesh, a wave of heat shot through his veins that left the front of his school pants damp with precum. He couldn’t keep his hands off of his new toy. It was like they had a mind of their own. He gave Nano’s ass an experimental slap, delighting in the way it made his flesh bounce and jiggle under his palm. Maybe he could get used to this domination thing after all. To his surprise, Nano didn’t even flinch, a soft moan escaping his lips as he continued to lavish Akira’s body with attention from his lips, tongue, teeth, and claws. The pain seemed to be spurring him on. Nano was getting increasingly ravenous and aggressive, and when he pinned Akira back onto the cushions and sank his fangs into his neck, Akira got the distinct impression that if he didn’t hurry along, they’d be switching positions very shortly.

“No more biting,” Akira growled, pushing him away, “I’m not your dinner.”

The way Nano lowered his ears and licked the blood from his lips in submissive apology was entirely too cute.

Akira spread his knees on the velvet seat, forcing his mate’s straddled legs further apart to give him better access to his body. Nano felt so much more vulnerable like this, and it was bringing out all his predatory instincts. He pulled apart Nano’s pliant cheeks, ghosting over his puckered entrance. The gentle caress made that little ring clench wantonly.

Last night, he had asked Nano to do this himself, and gods, the way he looked lying back on the bed, legs spread. Never in his wildest dreams had Akira ever imagined anyone wanting him so badly that they would even consider stretching and preparing their own asshole to facilitate his entry… knowing all the while that Akira was watching them do it… 

Akira realized belatedly that they didn’t have any lube.

…Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…!

Damn it!

…You know what? Fuck it. He was doing this anyway. If Nano complained, he’d just say it was punishment for biting him.

Nano appeared the complete opposite of concerned about this situation as he ground against Akira’s hand lustfully. But Akira knew all too well from experience that if he penetrated his partner dry like this, he would definitely be in pain, leaving him sore and bloody… which might make him a bit less enthusiastic about a repeat performance. Akira glanced around the carriage desperately.

His blood ran cold as his eyes settled in horror on the windows. There was absolutely nothing whatsoever covering the windows on either side of the carriage. And they were still in town. Anyone they passed would be able to see them.

Actually… how many people had seen them already?

“People looking in are going to see what I’m doing to you,” Akira purred, nipping gently at the king’s neck as he coaxed him up, and even he was surprised by how seductive it sounded. “…Does it bother you that people might see you like this?”

“It is the mating season, Akira. If they are looking… it is because they want to see.”

This should have embarrassed Akira far more than it actually did. Instead, he found himself growling in perverse pleasure. What the hell was wrong with him? It was always humiliating to be forced into exposing himself as a punishment at school… but somehow… it wasn’t so bad when he was topping. It was actually a huge turn on that the king wanted him so badly that he didn’t even care who saw.

But then… this was a somewhat more modest position than the one Akira had in mind. His heart was pounding as he reached up to lace his fingers through Nano’s light brown curls, kissing his pale lips and biting them until they flushed with color.

“Then… turn around and bend over that seat.”

Nano’s expression was neutral as ever, but his eyes seemed just a touch wider… and his cock was throbbing. His lips parted, but he said nothing. He slid obediently from Akira’s lap, turning towards the opposite seat, bending slightly at the waist once he had hold of it.

“I want you on your knees. Grab onto the back.”

Nano did as instructed without hesitation. His whole body was trembling, his pale skin flushed, but somehow Akira didn’t think he was suddenly feeling shy… though it kind of turned him on to think that he might be at least a little embarrassed.

“Lift your hips.”

Nano lifted his hips, along with his tail, arching his back and spreading his legs ever so slightly, offering his deliciously round buttocks in open invitation.

Damn, that was a gorgeous sight.

…Everyone passing by probably thought so, too. Why the hell did that thought fill him with such twisted elation?

“Good… perfect. You’re gorgeous like this. Gods, you have a nice ass. How is this the only place you have any body fat?”

If Nano had any opinion on this, it was difficult to tell from this angle.

Akira unbuttoned his trousers, unsurprised to find that his drawers were soaked with precum, leaving a large wet spot on the front of his slacks. He tried to spread it over his cock as a sort of makeshift lubrication, slicking up his fingers and prying apart Nano’s buttocks to try and slick up his passageway. He didn’t want to hurt him any more than he had to if he could avoid it. There was no way in hell he wasn’t fucking him raw, but there wasn’t any rule saying he had to go about it the same way Shiki would.

As Akira spread his mate's cheeks, he found himself entranced. That tight ring of muscle between his mate’s cheeks was a far more erotic sight than he was expecting. It was pinker than he had imagined… though given what they had done last night he might have expected him to be more swollen. The way it clenched and relaxed as he stroked it and drew wet circles across its surface was almost hypnotic. It was practically begging to be penetrated. The slick tip of one finger pressed inside, teasing, exploring, trying the best he could to prepare his mate for penetration. Every time Nano's muscles clenched, the sensation transposed directly to his cock.

“You’re so warm and tight. It feels like you’re drawing me in deeper… gods, it’s going to feel so good taking you here. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Another finger slid inside, twisting and scissoring apart as he rubbed his dripping cock between Nano’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any lube… but I’ll be gentle. Tell me if I hurt you.”

A slight smile ghosted over Nano’s lips.

“…Hurt me all you like, Akira.”

Akira’s heart skipped a beat. He had his doubts as to whether this was a good idea… but his cock seemed to have the complete opposite view on the matter, and that’s where most of his blood was headed. He withdrew his fingers and grabbed hold of Nano’s hips, positioning his cock and pressing urgently against his tight entrance until he broke through with a soft pop and was enveloped in the delicious warmth of his mate’s body.

Nano pressed back against him, eagerly taking him in. Akira couldn’t stop staring at the point where their bodies connected, watching as his cock slid deeper into Nano’s body. It looked incredibly lewd, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Nano’s muscles seemed to be drawing him in deeper as Akira thrust slowly in and out of his body until his hips were flush with Nano’s ass and thighs. When he was fully inside, he heard a soft, contented sigh spill from his partner’s lips. This position felt more vulgar than the one last night, and yet, it was also mind-numbingly erotic.

“How does it feel when I’m inside you?” Akira asked, genuinely curious as he stroked his partner’s back, tracing his scars with his fingers. The idea of anyone finding penetrative sex pleasurable still kind of blew his mind, given how painful it had always been for him.

Nano took a deep breath, but when he didn’t answer right away Akira smacked his ass playfully, delighting in the way his flesh jiggled when he did.

“Tell me,” Akira purred, biting his ear playfully, “Or I’ll have to punish you.” In any other frame of mind, it would only be a joke, but right now… well… he might actually be horny enough to really do it.

“It feels… complete,” Nano sighed, “It is impossible for two souls ever to truly merge, but when I take you inside of my body like this and our hearts beat in unison… for a short time we two become one, our souls laid bare, and I feel like… I am no longer alone.”

Akira blinked. That was a far deeper and more eloquent answer than he was expecting from someone bent over a carriage seat in full view of the entire town with a cock buried up to the hilt in his ass… but coming from Nano, he supposed he really shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

…Still, he intended to fuck Nano until he was incapable of making poetic speeches in the midst of sex. He wanted to render this cat incoherent. He wanted to drive him to the point where everything else in the universe disappeared besides the all-encompassing pleasure he was giving him.

Akira picked up his speed and gods… it felt so good in this position every time his hips slammed against Nano’s ass. He tried to change his angle, watching his partner experimentally in hopes of finding just the right spot inside of him that would make him come undone. It was harder to tell than when they were face to face, and given that Nano wasn’t inclined to be terribly vocal, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear it, either. All of his senses united to hone in on Nano’s body, looking for tiny signs that he had found the right place.

He needn’t have worried though… the moment he found it, Nano’s breath hitched, his claws scratching jagged lines into the elegant woodwork and ripping open the soft velvet to reveal white stuffing beneath.

“Does that feel good?” Akira asked, pleased when he hit it again and got the same reaction. And again.

“Yes…” Nano’s voice ended in a deep sigh as Akira drove into him, aiming for the same spot over and over. Despite the way his partner squirmed and writhed, Akira refused to let up his grip on his hips, leaving him no escape.

“You’re doing such a good job keeping quiet…” Akira purred, “Are you worried that your staff might hear us?”

Nano was still writhing against the back of the seat, moaning softly under his breath as his claws gripped onto whatever surface they could in a desperate bid to hold position. He seemed to have been rendered breathless, but he shook his head no. Akira felt secretly pleased with himself at his lack of verbal answer.

“Then I want to hear your voice. I want to know how good you feel when I’m inside of you.”

“I… don’t… nnng… haaa…. haaa… Akira… I… nnnnnn…”

“You don’t what?” Akira teased, feeling smug. He licked his lips, wrapping his hand around Nano’s front to stroke his neglected cock.

That got a reaction. Nano bit into the velvet fabric, saliva dripping from his lips as a deep moan emanated from his chest. This was exactly the way Akira wanted him. Gods, he was gorgeous.

“Good… you’re doing so well, Nano… but I’m not done with you yet. I don’t want to stop. You feel too good inside…. so you’re going to have to take more. If you cum before me… I still won’t stop.”

“Akira… please…”

“Please what? I know you’re getting close… and so am I… but I told you I’m not done.”

“Please… harder… Akira…”

Akira's eyes went wide.

…Damn it…!

He tried to still his hips in time, but at the sound of those gasping words, he knew he was done for. And Nano didn’t stop.

“Harder… Don’t stop… Akira…!”

Fuck! A moment ago, he had been trying to get Nano to be more vocal, but he hadn’t expected… Damn it!

It was too late. He couldn’t give Nano what he wanted. It was impossible. So instead Akira sped up, teasing and stroking his cock the same way he knew he liked it himself, using every last drop of willpower he had not to still his hips for more than an instant when he came in a flood of euphoria that crashed over him like a tidal wave. His vain attempts to keep going and ride it out only drug him down further beneath the waves, deeper into the murky depths.

Seconds felt like hours as time seemed to stop around them, and it felt like an eternity before he felt Nano’s muscles clamping around him, squeezing out every last drop they could from Akira’s body and coating his hand in ribbons of white. He tried to ride out Nano’s orgasm as best he could. When his mate’s body finally stilled, Akira collapsed down onto the seat on top of him.

“Akira… I’m sorry, Akira… was it too much for you?”

Akira’s eyelids fluttered open. He found himself face to face with Nano, lying on the seat beside him. His partner was gently grooming him, holding him close as though he were something precious he was trying to protect.

Akira blushed, dropping his gaze in shame when he remembered what had happened.

“Nnng… I’m sorry… I couldn’t…”

“Why?”

“I tried to last…”

“I know. It is difficult to imagine anything feeling more wonderful. In the end… you were trying to hold on for my sake, even though it was impossible. But you kept going, even through the overwhelming intensity, giving me everything you had until your body collapsed… and I thought… it was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.”

Akira’s blush only deepened. He sighed, looking away.

“Some hypocrite I am. I tell you I’m going to keep going no matter what, and then finish seconds later.”

“…And yet you kept going regardless. There’s nothing to be sorry about, Akira. I loved what you did.”

Akira still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Next time… I’ll try not to finish before you.”

“If you don’t… that is fine. There would be no meaning if we could see everything that lay on our path before us. The twists and turns leading to new and unexpected places are what make life so precious. It does not matter who finishes first. Each time I am with you is new, exciting, and unique… and unpredictable.”

Akira sighed, trying not to let it bother him, though he couldn’t help but think that if he had performed this way last night, Nano might not have been so eager to take him away with him.

But there was nothing to do about that now. Taking a deep breath, he tried to sit up. His trousers and drawers were around his knees and his jacket, vest, and shirt were torn to shreds. He hoped Virus and Trip had packed him a change of clothes, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t brought any himself. He didn’t see Nano’s clothes anywhere… but they were probably still neatly folded under the seat with his book, out of harm’s way.

The carriage didn’t look too bad from where he was sitting, but when Akira turned around, he saw that the ornate woodwork was scratched. There were slashes and holes from Nano’s claws and teeth on the once pristine velvet. He didn’t even have to look at the seat to know it was covered in their body fluids. The windows had fogged up from the heat of their activities - Akira had been so engaged with Nano that he hadn’t even noticed. He wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but it seemed that peeping toms didn’t have quite as clear a view of the show as he thought they did.

“I’m sorry about the mess in your carriage, too… I guess we got a little carried away…”

“I like it better this way.”

Akira gave him an odd look, allowing Nano to pull him close and continue grooming his ears.

“………? It’s a mess. It was perfect before.”

“It was. But I'm tired of perfection. Too much perfection is stifling. It is unnatural. If the water we drink is too pure, it will sap the nutrients from our blood. If we drink too much, it will kill us. Plants will wither and die. Fish drown. It will strip the lead from pipes as it flows through, disintegrating them.”

Akira wasn’t really sure how that applied to carriage cushions. He was quite certain that the carriage hadn’t been so sterile before that it would suck out all of their nutrients and kill them. But it did look a lot nicer before they trashed it.

“Perfection takes and takes… until everything is devoid of spirit, and nothing is left but a barren, sterile wasteland.”

Fancy words. He said that and yet… his clothes were neatly folded under the seat, and he was still meticulously grooming Akira’s ears, despite the fact that his own fur was a mess.

“Stop it,” Akira scolded, “You need to be groomed more than I do. Come here.”

Akira took Nano into his arms, reversing their positions. Nano did not protest. On the contrary, as Akira began to groom him, Nano closed his eyes peacefully and began to purr in his arms. Yet it seemed he still wasn’t done with his monologue.

“…Why do we creatures seek perfection? Why value purity? It is the impurities in life which give it meaning, which make it what it is. It is the flaws that make us who we are.”

Why on earth was this silly cat still talking? Akira wanted to tell him to shush.

“A man without sin is dull and devoid of character. Nature is wild, chaotic, dirty, messy, vibrant, alive… and so very beautiful…”

Nano yawned sleepily, shifting his position to lay down on Akira’s lap. A soft smile graced his lips as his long eyelashes fluttered.

“…Like Akira…”

Nano’s eyes slowly closed as he drifted off to sleep on Akira’s lap.

Nano slept the entire way back to the castle with his head on Akira’s lap. His breath was soft and rhythmic, though every so often he shifted slightly or seemed to mutter to himself. He was still completely naked, save the leather collar around his throat. His pale white skin contrasted beautifully with the deep green velvet of the carriage. He was drooling slightly onto Akira's knee, but he didn’t mind. It was actually kind of cute. He looked utterly at peace snuggling close and purring contentedly while Akira stroked his soft brown fur.

Akira ran his fingertips gently over the king’s eyes, cheeks, nose, lips… studying his fine, angular features… committing them to memory…  Nano’s long eyelashes fluttered, tickling his wrist and bringing a soft smile to his lips.

It was strange. The two of them had barely exchanged a word. He hardly knew anything about this man. And yet… already Nano was becoming precious to him.

But what did it mean? Perhaps he only felt this way because he was in heat. All of these emotions simmering up inside were strange and new. He thought, maybe… this desire to defend, protect, cherish… he certainly felt it with Konoe, but how much of that was simply the result of his song? All of it, probably. A song the kitten hadn’t even wanted to sing. It wasn’t meant for his ears. He’d be kidding himself if he tried to argue that his affections had ever been reciprocated.

But Nano hadn’t sung a single note. This feeling was something different. It wasn’t forced empathy - there were simply no barriers between them. And this same desire to protect, defend, and cherish rose in his breast, but this time… in exchange, Nano offered him his heart, body, and soul.

He felt like he’d been entrusted with something sacred.

Nano shifted in his sleep, muttering something incoherent under his breath. He wondered vaguely what his mate was dreaming about. He thought he caught the words “blue,” “color,” and “dangerous.” Hmm. Well… whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be a nightmare. His breath was slow and rhythmic. He looked peaceful and seemed to drift deeper into sleep when Akira gently caressed his skin with his claws and fingertips, shivering a little as though slightly ticklish.

Well… blossoming romance aside, Akira was starting to get a bit concerned about more practical matters. Like… where the hell were they? He had no idea how far away the castle was, and he couldn’t see a thing through the steamy windows. Shouldn’t it be about time for lunch? Or dinner? Was someone going to serve them? He imagined that kings probably got served meals, and didn’t just stash away picnic baskets under the seats like normal people would on a long journey in a carriage… but it was kind of difficult to check with Nano laying on his lap.

If someone did knock on the door and came in to serve them… Akira would probably be okay since at least he had his trousers on, but the king lying naked in a leather collar with semen running down his thighs was going to be a little more awkward to explain.

Akira felt like he had some lingering responsibility to take care of his mate… especially since he was the one who had done this to Nano in the first place. A part of him was pleased that even if his performance hadn’t been all that he hoped it would be, he definitely did seem to have left the king exhausted.

“…No choice…”

Again Akira furrowed his brow at Nano’s continued random sleep talking as it devolved again into incoherent muttering.

Glancing around, the only clothes Akira saw were his torn school clothes that he’d tossed away haphazardly in the heat of the moment. Unfortunately, his jacket was out of reach in this position. He might be able to retrieve his vest if he used his feet to drag it over first, but there wasn’t much fabric there. Still… it was certainly better than nothing.

His uniform shirt would’ve been more helpful, but alas, it was just slightly out of reach. Maybe if they went up another hill and the carriage jostled a little it might slide close enough to retrieve. In the meantime, he slid over his vest and picked it up. It… well, it barely covered Nano’s hips and genitals… assuming he’d hold still and stop wiggling so much in his sleep. Akira sighed. For now, there wasn’t much more to be done. He’d just have to wait and…

The carriage came to a stop. Akira’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to nudge Nano to wake him up, but he was left with more incoherent muttering. He shook him gently.

“…will you choose…”

“Nano… the carriage has stopped. There are footsteps and…”

Akira’s eyes went wide as the carriage door swung open.

“We have arrived, Your Majesty.”

Akira’s fur bristled and he found himself hissing at the cat standing outside, likely a guard or butler. They all looked the same to him.

“Close the door! Give us some damn privacy!”

Nano’s eyelids fluttered. When the servant did not reply immediately, Akira drew his claws, lowering his ears and growling low and menacingly in his throat.

“Akira…?”

He glanced down to see Nano’s grey eyes watching him inquisitively. Akira’s relief was short-lived, however, when Nano turned to the side to see what was going on… dropping the torn vest that had been the only thing covering him in the process.

Nano blinked sleepily, either unaware or unconcerned that he was completely naked in front of a live audience.

“…Bring Akira’s belongings up to the blue room adjacent to mine. We will be along shortly, but for now, we would appreciate privacy.”

Nano’s voice sounded calm, deep, authoritative and surprisingly direct - as one might expect from a king. It was the same voice he heard him use back at Applebaum’s when informing Virus that he was taking away his one remaining slave. Rai made it more than clear to everyone that he was taking Konoe, and it was a given that Aoba would go with Koujaku. But now those bastards didn’t even have Akira. Bet they didn't see THAT coming.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

To his credit, the servant managed to remain calm. He quickly shut the door, though he was blushing profusely when Nano gave him his orders.

Akira still wasn’t entirely sure if Nano was aware that he was naked. The soft snores coming from where the king lay snuggled on Akira’s lap told him that the answer was almost certainly no.

Akira sighed. In all fairness, even if he had been prone to unrealistic fantasies of grandeur, riding off into the sunset in the arms of the king of Sisa to live happily ever after was probably nothing at all like ANYONE imagined it.

Chapter Text

Aoba watched with disbelief as the king stood over a fallen Shiki and declared that he was taking Akira with him. Virus tried to object, but the king shut him down. First Konoe, now Akira? Just like that? And the king wasn’t even going to pay for Akira!?

Aoba glanced over at Koujaku, who was standing next to him. Suddenly all of Koujaku’s excuses for why he can’t take Aoba with him were just that: excuses. Aoba felt the pain of it in his chest and stomach like a knife. Was anything that came out of Koujaku’s mouth true? Did he even love him? If he did, he would have taken him out of this place long ago!

Koujaku placed a soothing hand in Aoba’s fur, and Aoba growled at him. Koujaku knew how much Aoba hated having his fur touched casually! But now Koujaku was absentmindedly petting Aoba like… like he wasn't even aware of who he was touching! And Aoba was reminded of the fact that he was not Koujaku’s only lover.

Aoba slapped Koujaku’s hand away.

“Stop it! If you want to pet someone, go pet one of your other lovers!”

“Darling, what—”

“Don’t darling me! You’re so full of shit! I wish I’d never met you!”

Koujaku stiffened, anger flashing through his eyes.

“If that’s the way you feel about me, then maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should! I don’t—”

“Aoba,” Virus’s voice was soft, but it snapped like a whip. “Is that any way to speak to a prince and a paying customer?”

Aoba clamped his lips shut, a sinking feeling of dread coursing through his stomach. He’d been so upset that he’d forgotten that Virus was there! He felt a shiver run through his fur. He’d be lucky not to end up in the tower tonight.

He glanced desperately over to where King Nano and Akira were standing and talking quietly to one another. The king had said that the safety of his subjects was his primary concern, but it didn’t look like he was going to interfere on Aoba’s behalf. More excuses then. It was just Akira he was interested in, after all. Aoba felt the bitter injustice of it like a rock in his stomach.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Virus was cooing at Koujaku, but Koujaku just waved him off.

“Kittens have temper tantrums. I’m not upset. There’s no need for you to worry about it. I’ll see you next semester.” The dance instructor could be infuriating sometimes. Koujaku then turned to Aoba. “We’ll talk again when you’re in a more reasonable frame of mind.”

He leaned down to kiss Aoba goodbye, but Aoba kept his lips pressed tightly together. Koujaku gave him another look, before sticking his hands in his pockets and nonchalantly walking off, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Aoba could feel his body shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or rage. Maybe both. His head and heart were both pounding, the beginnings of a headache forming.

Trip brought out a small bag and wordlessly held it out to the king. The king ignored him, whispering something into Akira’s ear. A coachman from the king’s waiting carriage rushed forward to take Akira’s bag.

“Your Highness, I hope—” Virus began, but the king and Akira were already headed towards the carriage and paid him no mind.

Virus growled low under his breath, then turning to Trip, he gave a small chin lift towards Aoba.

Trip gripped Aoba’s arm and grinned at him. “Been naughty, Aoba? I guess we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?” Turning Aoba around, he started into the school, humming slightly. Aoba didn’t dare resist him, though he stumbled a bit, his knees going weak.

“What about me!?” Shiki’s voice came across the grass like a snake striking.

Trip stopped, turning to see what the commotion was about.

Shiki was angrily dusting his knees off as he picked himself up off the ground where the king had thrown him down. He’d apparently been too scared to get up until the king was gone, but now he stood to his full height, stalking across the grass towards Virus, his visage grim.

“What about me?! I demand recompense! I was assaulted on your school grounds, and for what? Disciplining a student? Am I or am I not a valued member of your staff? Don’t I have the right to discipline a student? But you let that… that pretender treat me like dirt and steal my prize from me!”

“I assure you, Shiki, it was never our intention for something like this to happen. We will, of course, compensate you! There’s no need to be upset. Unfortunately, in the case of Akira, our hands are tied. But, as you can see, we still have Aoba, and he’s very nicely shaped indeed—”

“I don’t want that trash. I want Akira.”

“Shiki, please be reasonable. We no longer have Akira, so we can hardly be expected to proffer him up to you. Perhaps if you take your case up with the king…”

“Are you trying to insult me!? I am the best Touga that ever lived! If I want Akira from the king, I’ll just go and win him through a duel!”