I hear that tiny sound of giggle that only comes from Tara’s throat when she’s both happy and nervous. It sounds like hesitant bells. Like fear wrapped in brightness. I wish I could get up and go to our wounded bird, our limping fox girl.
I hear her light steps move into the bedroom. I hear Pel’s heart cave as he sees us together. That palpable tension of fear and frission. Of a Masters next steps, dissipates.
The sounds of whispers sounds like offers phrased as instruction. What comes next a mystery, but as much as the fear of the unknown grips my heart. The fear of what might be, I think I’m safe. I flashback to another night that I was given and…but no. This is not that.
The soft fur caresses my calf. Trailing comfort and warmth up my body.
The sound of a murmur that is just audible reaches me.
“And this, Mr. Fox is the leg of our Sara. It is soft but firm. She can wrap it around and also leap up with them. After her shower, her legs taste like cinnamon….it’s probably her soap, but I like to think it’s just her.”
The soft fur cups my ass, squeezing and pulling apart cheeks. Exposing the one spot of warm on the back of my body to the coolness of the room.
“Do you see this Mr. Fox? This is Sara’s butt. Pel likes to put things in it to make Sara squeal but she doesn’t have a tail….. YES. I have a tail, I am a good fox girl. My master tells me so.”
The fur works its way up my back, trailing the lines of the scars and scar work. Whip lines and the raven. The marks of this life and Pel’s claims.
Hair trails across my face, and I soft breathes warm against my lips.
Whispered, “And this, Mr. Fox, is my Sara. She’s sometimes my mistress but mostly my lover and friend. She’s mine, Mr. Fox. And you can’t have her.
But now you’ll always long for the touch of her body. Aren’t I nice!”
It’s impossible to laugh tied face down like this but oh, how I want to. It escapes like a a hiccup and is swallowed by the devouring lips of Tara. Making her claim. Our little fox girl. She’s growing up.