One two three - One two three four,

One two three - One two three four…

Isiat's feet rapped against the wooden floor of his quarters as he circled a chair he had placed in the center of it, his rapier's naked blade drawn. His body was gaunt, but muscled well, toned like an athlete. He'd once been told he'd make an excellent runner. His history had proven that assumption correct.

He circled the chair one, then switched directions, the mantra within his head unceasing. His feet, his tails, even the slowly wavering tip of his sword all coordinated into its precisely timed ritual. The battered old seat was wooden and covered in nicks and scratches from his morning regime. His fur reeked of sweat from his exertion, and perspiration beaded down his forehead.

"You know, you could easily open a window in here, and never have to worry about being wet." Scion remarked from Isiat's office chair, the dragon's feet kicked up onto the velvet topped desk as he delicately peeled an apple with his claws.

"You dragons are clever, but you also can't sweat, so you have no idea what you're talking about." Isiat growled through clenched teeth as he drove into a fresh series of motions, spinning and sweeping low, severing the feet of the invisible foes around him. The blade whistled and flexed as it slashed through the air, the vulpine parrying and riposting before he turned, and side-on, thrust his blade out, skewering it between the boards that made up the back of the seat.

"I also learned how to breathe fire at a young age, and I promise you, it is far more intimidating than that toothpick of yours."

"And yet you still carry around that knife despite everything." Isiat pointed out, pausing mid-step to turn and motion with the point of his blade to the jewel-encrusted dagger's hilt sticking from the edge of the dragon's belt.

"It never hurt anybody to have a plan B." Scion said with an almost offended look on his face.

"Well, my plan B is the fire breathing dragon whom I keep well paid for his services. If that doesn't work, I'm probably already dead, so what the hell does it matter?" Isiat laughed at the rhetorical question he'd posed, lifting the chair and carrying it back to the edge of the room. His blade slid back into its sheath at his waist with a soft rasp.

There was a crunch as Scion bit into the fruit he'd been peeling.

"Ahhh, but it's a foolproof plan, no? I haven't failed you yet, have I?"

"Only because I haven't failed to pay you yet." He pointed out, his tails giving a deft flicker. Isiat towelled himself off, lobbing his shirt into a chute on the edge of the room by his bed before he fetched himself a new one from the curtained-off segment of his quarters. Scion ate deliberately loudly just on the other side of the fabric screen.

"You know, for as much of an investment I have in your continued well being, it's been what? Three days now, and I'm still yet to see either hide or hair of our latest investment. I'll have you know-"

The curtains flung back, Isiat's muzzle twisted in a look of mock surprise that was condescending above anything else.

"No, really? Oh, I brought a pretty little pleasure slave, so I must use my ownership privileges to screw her into the deck boards the moment she's brought aboard! Is that it Scion? The usual harlots on the bottom deck not scratching your itch? Or did they give you another one and thus you're seeking new territory to conquer?"

The dragon's face was a blank mask of indifference.

"Oh, you bragged about having her suck you off without asking, don't even pretend. But on a more serious note, I -have not- seen nor heard from her, and as she's been aboard three days. It's fitting for me to pay a visit and advise her of her account standing. You can't save them all Isiat, but you will save even less if she doesn't start working off her debt."

He paused, ruddy red scales glimmering as he turned, and stretched out his broad, leathery wings behind himself. Reaching below Isiat's desk, the dragon helped himself to the bottle stashed there and poured them both a measure of the firewater.

"The Lupar we can afford to offload, it's worthless anyway. But a thousand Draskar I would hope to see a return from sooner rather than later. You may be wealthy, but if your new plan is to buy every slave of value, at this rate, we'll need to return to the clan vaults to make another withdrawal soon, and they'll charge you more for making another so soon. The way I see it, she can start shaking her tail and selling wares, or she can start lifting it and sealing deals. Either way."

Isiat laughed. He laughed long and hard as if he'd just heard a particularly funny joke that Scion wasn't privy to.

"You realise felines in the wild, respects to our feral cousins, can spend up to two-thirds of their lives sleeping? I understand you're both insatiable and a hopeless gold hoarder Scion, but that's also why I keep you on the bankroll. After what she's endured though, freedom is a strange and scary concept. Give her a few days, and she'll come around. Patience. Don't you know it's unwise to wake a sleeping cat?"

______________________________

Shadi for her part had slept away her first day aboard the ship. True to his word, Isiat had taken her to the galley, where they'd had more food than she'd seen on offer to her in years. He'd left her briefly while she'd gorged herself on an entire shoulder of ham, and returned with a pouch full of the contraceptive herbs the guards had used to force on them when they didn't want the slaves breeding. Isiat had given her a more moderate suggestion.

"These are for you. Do with them as you please, and if you run out, you can ask any of the Medicae's for more. No slave child on this ship inherits their parents status, but children are expensive, and-" She hadn't let him finish as she had stuffed a pawful of the bitter leaves into her mouth. He'd simply nodded his approval. She had merely hoped that they were strong enough to counter whatever unholy concoction her old mistress had forced upon her.

After that, he'd taken her along more corridors and stairs to another blank hallway that she couldn't tell from the next. The room he'd offered her hadn't been like his own, but even so, it was certainly far more than any slave could have expected. It was cozy, as she would describe it.

Fifteen paces wide by twenty long, it had a table, reasonably comfortable chairs, cupboards, a simple dresser, and a stove. A basin, with running water, a curtained off water closet, and finally, a bed. Her own bed. No hessian sacks for comfort, no straw for stuffing. It was the sort of bed, anyone, with any wealth to their name, would have been happy to own. Real wool stuffing for the pillows, and thick blankets that at once took the chill away.

She had fallen upon it the moment he'd left her, and not moved until dawn the next morning. It all still felt too good to be without a catch, but she already knew the catch was doing what he'd asked of her. Considering that her last captors had forced her to do the same without any of the kindness or comforts in between guests…

She'd spent much of her second day aboard examining every nook and cranny of her room, rifling through the cupboards, tugging at floor planks, looking atop and below every item of furniture she had been provided.

She was cautious. This seemed far too good to be true, and her time as a slave at the castle had taught her to be careful with these kinds of things. She'd seen foolish girls tempted from the pens by males promising them their freedom and the world if they would simply come with them. They invariably returned at some later point, thrown back into the pen, used and sore, their hopes shattered.

She'd never been so foolish as to believe a word of it, but at least her new master seemed to be under no illusions as to what she was. It still didn't make her trust him any more than her previous ones however! She wouldn't let herself get pulled into complacency just because he had been… not directly unkind to her.

She did manage one foray out of her room though. When she'd tried the door, she'd been surprised to find it unlocked, and had hastened to the galley, following the route she had been led on yesterday. Nobody paid any special attention to the pretty, gold collared Amasii, and she scurried back to her room with two plates loaded with bread, meats, fruit, and honey, as well as a wooden stein filled with something bitter and amber, served lukewarm.

It was she who locked her door this time, finding the small wooden latch on the inside, and sequestered away her ill-gotten goods, sitting with her back in the circle of sunlight made by the glass porthole behind her bed. The food was warm, and it was fresh, and the bread had a delicious crunch that came with being fresh from the oven like she hadn't enjoyed in years. Yesterday, she had been cautious Infront of her new master, but today, she was listening to her stomach before anyone else.

Clearing her plates and draining her mug, she dared a quick peek outside before she neatly placed the now empty dishes in front of another door, retreating to her quarters.

Though she was curious that nobody had come for her yet. Perhaps they wouldn't today? Maybe her master was simply too busy? That suited her just fine. She stuffed another of the fat little grapes into her muzzle and sat down to groom her tail using the small wooden comb that had been left in one of the cupboards.

If this was truly where he intended for her to stay while she fucked and danced for what money she owed for her freedom… well, perhaps it wasn't as bad as it seemed. At least now she felt somewhat motivated to do anything. Despite her attempts to keep a damper on getting her hopes up, the small glimmer of hope he had provided to her refused to die. It was such a tiny little thing that made her entire captivity alter perspective, like a pebble holding back a landslide.

She didn't necessarily want it to give her a reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but it did, and that was that. Until her hopes were completely and beyond repair dashed, she would cling to that like her life depended on it.

A sudden knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts, and at once, she felt her paws shaking and realised she'd reflexively backed into the corner of her bed, her back against the wall furthest from the door. The fur in her neck stood on end, and her lips were curled back, ready to bite whoever came through.

Except nobody did.

There was silence for a few moments, and then a fat white envelope slipped beneath her door, and the footsteps of whoever had placed it moved on.

She stared at it accusingly for almost five minutes, as if it were going to leap up and slap her back in irons at a moment's notice, and she would fight it to the death if it tried.

But when the letter didn't suddenly gain sentience and didn't suddenly endanger her freedom, she carefully crept forward and snatched it from the floor. It was weighty, and several objects inside clinked and rattled like loose coins in a purse as she examined it, still wary of trickery.

Carefully running a claw along the neatly sealed seam, she poured the contents out onto the table, sitting on the end of her bed. A pawful of coins clattered out onto the wooden countertop, making her frown as she turned a shiny, octagonal bronze one over between her fingers. It was stamped with the same symbol that adorned the front of her collar, a fox head surrounded by a wreath of tails. She frowned, but more.

This wasn't any currency she recognised, and she knew what Vulpine coins looked like ovals, and were curved. Lupar were crude rounds, and Draskar had some kind of imbued element to ensure they never lost lustre. Opening the envelope, she pulled free two separate sheets of paper.

The first was very formal, clearly typed out on the sort of invoices traders liked to have mass-produced for record-keeping.

It was as blunt as it was telling.

Stryker, Shadi.

PO: Isiat Carcer

Personal attendance: 110V

Servitude repayments: -90V

Upkeep: -5V

-----------------

Total coinage to be distributed: 15V

Sure enough, checking the table, she found five of the coppery octagons, and a single, larger polished silver one, though the metal looked more like gunmetal than actual silver. She turned them over in her paws a few times, even going so far as to chew on the corner of one, just to see if it would bend, before she slipped them into her shirt pocket, and picked up the second piece of paper.

This one was clearly handwritten in neat, flowing letters, and Shadi found herself squinting to read the articulately curled and flowing script.

Shadi.

You'll find enclosed payment for your services to me yesterday. All work aboard the ship is accounted for. The coins are of worth only aboard the ship- I'm sure you'll be able to work out the denominations. Any merchant aboard will accept them, and they are yours to do as you please with.

I'd like you to come up to my quarters before the end of the week, at your convenience. Until then, I'd suggest you go by the library one deck down from you- take the stairs that are left down the hall from your door, and then go right. You can't miss it. I've included several books I'd like you to requisition and read.

I look forward to your company.

Isiat

She paused, and reread the letter. He… paid? His slaves? She reached into her pocket and filled anxiously with the silver coin. All the slaves had been forbidden from possessing any currency on them while she was at the castle. Property like her had no need for wealth. She'd seen one of the girls beaten and raped terribly after trying to smuggle back a single gold coin into the slave pens and had never bothered trying it herself. What on earth would she have used a coin for in that terrible place?

It made her pocket burn just from having the weight of the currency on her. Was this some kind of bizarre test? She felt as if she shouldn't have the coins, or at best, she should hide them away somewhere. Still, she managed to steady her almost trembling fingers enough to turn the letter over in her paw. Sure enough, there was a list of titles, and some of them would have been enough to make a saint blush. Shadi felt her nose turning pink as her mismatched eyes scanned over the shortlist.

Seven Dragon Sisters - A history of eastern dances

Shifting Sands - Interpretive dance of the deserts

The Dancing Wolves

Those three alone let Shadi know just what exactly her new master expected her to be brushing up on. There were a few other titles, but they were simply marked as runes she did not understand and a string of numbers, along with a small note from Isiat.

Ask the Librarian. She will be able to help you find these.

Just… Ask? Just like that? Shadi knew nobody! She didn't know where to go, she didn't know who to ask! There was so much-

“Can I help you, dear?"  The kindly old otter's voice startled Shadi so much that she let out a squeak. She'd been so focused on the letter gripped in her paws, re-reading it for the hundredth time that she had lost track of just how far her feet had taken her.

Looking up from the piece of paper, she regarded the woman before her. Once, she might have been beautiful, but with her age, she had grown graceful and dignified, and barely as tall as Shadi herself was. Despite this face, she still seemed able to look down at Shadi from behind her steel-rimmed glasses. Her fur was a sleek brown, dotted here and there with silver, but like everything else about her, it was worn like it had been fitted just for her, with not a fur on her sleek pelt out of place.

“Oh, I uhm… My master- I… Owner- Isiat. He sent me down here with a list and-" Shadi stammered, not even recalling having left her room, her feet apparently guiding her here on their own accord.

The otter gave her a knowing, yet somehow almost teasing look.

“You're new here, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

“I didn't know he was picking anyone up at that dreary place. You must have taken his fancy. Something special if that collar is anything to say about it. Mine was only copper. Barely worth the cost of forging it." She laughed, but Shadi couldn't help hearing a hint of bitterness in the woman's tone. Slavery was slavery, no matter how one tried to dress it up. She could relate to that sting. She wore it openly around her throat.

Though looking the otter over, Shadi couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of a collar binding her throat, though its presence was marked in other ways- The slightly askew angle at which all the fur had regrown after being chafed and rubbed for so long was evident, and Shadi couldn't help but reach up to feel her neck in worry. How would she look if she ever had hers removed?

“Oh, don't worry about it girl. You're barely old enough to be on your own, and the way you walked in here tells me you haven't worn that heavy thing long. I'm sure you'll have it off soon enough. How can I help you, dear?" The otter's smile was kind, infectious almost. Shadi couldn't help but feel a little more at ease as she handed over the note.

The otters wrinkled her face and squinted, her eyes quickly scanning over the writing.

“Ahhh, so that's why he's got you here… Mmhmm… It makes sense now." She nodded, and without comment, turned, her rudder tail slapping the ground behind her loudly. “Come on then!"

“W-wait!" Shadi scampered to catch up to the otter before she could disappear behind the first row of bookshelves she came to.

Finally taking in her surroundings, Shadi felt her jaw hanging slack, speechless. The library itself was exactly that. A library. Not merely some collection of books in a small, dark, dank room. The polished wooden floors were adorned by patterned carpet runners down each aisle, and looking over a guard railing she came to, she saw that the room itself extended downwards another two floors! Every one of them was elaborately wrought with carved reliefs and gold inlay, as was only befitting of a dragon made vessel. This part of the ship, she mused, had been left untouched whenever Isiat had acquired it.

A soft tap on her shoulder drew her attention, and a thin, leather-bound volume was thrust into her arms.

“That's the first. The others are this way." The otter announced with an all too pleased smile, immediately trotting off in the opposite direction from whence she had come.

“Wait! Who are you? How long has Isiat owned you?" Shadi asked, hurrying her feet in an almost frantic, cha-cha like pace just to keep up.

Onetwothreefour-onetwothreefour.

Tap tap tap tap, swish swish swish swish. The otter's rudder flicked back and forth quickly as if to counter her sharp turns as she twisted between the aisles like someone following a maze with an unfaltering internal compass. In fact, the way she navigated was curiously like how Isiat did. Was it perhaps something she too would pick up, or would she simply end up lost like a rat in a maze with no hope of escaping?

“I'm Amarill dear, but you can call me Ama. Everybody else does. As for how long Isiat has owned me, dear, the good captain of this ship has had no stake in my ownership since I brought my freedom two years ago. Before that, I'd worn a collar my entire life. Feel fortunate you got to taste true freedom before you had the collar. Not all of us aboard were so fortunate. Here…"

She paused long enough to shove another pair of books into Shadi's arms, before turning and starting off again, guided by an impressive memory of the library's contents and layout. Shadi was still just as confused as she had been, but followed Amarill without complaint, pacing quickly alongside her.

She caught Shadi's questioning look as they walked, and slowed her pace just a little for the long-tailed feline, her dark brown fur shimmering in the light of the glow-tubes running along the ceiling overhead.

“I was an interpreter for one of the desert clans. Out there, if you are born to slaves, you are born into slavery. I wrote letters and translated documents for my masters until Isiat purchased me. He put me in charge of this place." She gestured down over the guardrail as they passed by an opening in the rows of shelves as if to hopelessly point out its enormity. It seemed impossible that such a grand space could have fit aboard the airship, but then again, it had also seemed impossible that such a large ship could remain aloft to begin with.

“Trust me, girl, it's far better here than anywhere else. I know paid servants who don't have it so good. At least Isiat makes sure the ones who are still paying him off are fed and clothed." She added with a smile, fetching another pair of books from the shelves to add to Shadi's quickly growing pile.

“Just return them all when you're done with them, okay? You'll be fine dear." She gave Shadi a soft pet upon her back, before turning and trotting off, leaving Shadi with more questions than answers.

The books Isiat had listed for her took Shadi several days to slowly work her way through. She hadn't been required to read as part of her duties, and the fact that she was literate was just an additional factor to consider in her pricing to the wolves. Like any skill left unused, it took some time before she recalled how to decypher to flowing cursive text on the pages he'd instructed her to study.

But, dutifully, and also because part of her knew that she had little else to do aboard, study she did. The texts had originated across the land, some further apart and in regions that she hadn't even seen on her father's map of the continent. One was written in a completely different dialect, and she'd spent a good few hours trying to remember her lessons in the Draconic script her father had insisted would be important.

When she finally did get around to reading the content of the book, her nose flushed pink more and more with each page she turned. It was work detailing the history of the reptilian kinds of erotic dancing and included several illustrations along the way of just exactly how each of the poses it described should look.

Well, she thought to herself. She had agreed to this, as much as a slave could agree to anything that was asked to them. He'd given her a good amount of material to review, and she was grateful for her room's proximity to the galley, and made frequent trips down the quiet corridors back and forth, fetching herself meals and snacks, as well as fresh fruit!

She purred as she munched down on the slices of apple. Fresh fruit! She had no idea where they sourced it from, but she hadn't had anything at all resembling fresh-picked fruits in years! It was small luxuries like this that she cherished and enjoyed to their fullest, lest she suddenly found them being taken away again. This wasn't freedom, and she knew it as well, but it made her feel it, and that at least did something to raise her dashed spirits up.

She noticed it as well, in the form of the reflection looking back at her from the mirror in one corner of her room. A mere two days after she had been sold, her fur had lost a lot of the dusty, aged look that it had held, and her skin beneath had finally regained some colour to it. Even her eyes seemed brighter, and she spent at least an hour each day before the mirror running a comb through the length of her fur all over.

She recognized the woman she had been familiar with before she'd been captured once more, and that too made her smile. Each morning she would rise, find an empty bathing room, clean and scrub herself with soap. She'd brush, dress in the soft clothes she'd been provided, fetch herself a warm meal, and then retreat to her locked cabin to eat and read and occasionally attempt some of the dance moves that the pages taught her.

She didn't speak to anyone more than courtesy demanded, however. A few of the other slaves and collarless crew had attempted to engage her in prolonged conversations, but she had politely dodged away from them, always hurrying back to her room. The encounters made her heart race, and it often took her a long while before her breathing would return to normal afterwards.

People made her wary, and the encounters reminded her far too much of the guards of the castle trying to temp slaves away from the pens for a while with promises of rewards or freedom. She had never been foolish enough to fall for them then, and she wasn't going to let her guard down. Just because her master was kinder, her experience had taught her not to trust, and she had no plans of starting now…

The fruit crunched between her teeth as she snacked on slices, lazed out across her bed. This was nothing compared to the lap of luxury she had come from many years ago, but… Compared to her recent accommodations, it was the difference between heaven and hell. Nobody had come to pester her, and for the most, she had been left alone in her cabin, blissfully undisturbed by the outside world save for the young ferret in a brass collar who had come by to clear away her dishes.

The silence was… Remarkably peaceful, or at least it would have been if it hadn't been for the steady whump whump whump whump of the propellers that she could see spinning past from the edges of her cabin's porthole window. She watched them as they swung by, casting long, lazy arcs. No two seemed alike, but at the same time, they all managed to work in unison. She peered further, crawling along her bed, the steady sound of the drives guiding her movements.

One-two, three-four. One-two, three-four…

The sky below and above… It was still something she was having to get used to seeing. The clouds that obscured the view of the surface looked like a thick, fluffy blanket, perfectly smooth and without wrinkles, and yet when she peered upwards, there they were again, obscuring the sky above as well with another white blanket as if the airship were sailing between the two layers.

And always with the steady, soft, 'whump-whump-whump-whump' of the propellers, keeping time like a metronome she could hear throughout the ship, giving a tempoed order to everything else aboard. At first, the sound had given her headaches from the constant drone, but now that she had been hearing it long enough to recognise the patterns within it.

She stared at it for a while, watching the world drift by silently, before she peeled herself away, trying to refocus herself in the books pulled high on her table by a half-eaten sandwich. Lifting the book with one paw, and her lunch with the other, she strode purposefully around the small area of floor space she had cleared by shifting her table against the wall, and quietly humming to herself between bites, went through the illustrated motions of the complex dance once more, using the steady beat of the propellers outside to keep the rhythm.

Her naked body curved and arched as she went through the motions, occasionally stopping mid pose as she skimmed her eyes across what was supposed to come next. It would win her no favours if she was asked to dance and didn't know her expected routine by heart. At least she was fairly confident it wouldn't get her beaten or whipped. The scars across her back still stung to the touch, but they were healing well at least. The ship had its own doctors and healers aboard, along with at least a pair of bonesetters. A small glass jar that smelled of aloe had been dropped off at her door along with instructions on its use shortly after her first visit to them..

Twisting and spinning on the heel of her left foot, she took to this new method of learning dance faster than she expected. Her long tail swayed to keep her balance, elegantly flowing through the space behind her, the bushy tip twitching in time with her rhythm. She was supposed to… Twirl, shake her hips, half-twist, clap… She frowned, and made her now sandwich-less paw close in a feeble, clap like gesture before turning back to the book.

Then, she was supposed to… Cartwheel forwards… She paused again and looked at her room. Well, there wasn't anything like enough space for that in here! She skipped a bit, and continued, her eyes following along with the illustrations as much as the words, and looking at them made her entire body tingle.

Rendered in black ink against the faded tan of the aged paper were a pair of figures, one canine, one feline, with the male cat pulling the vulpine bitch tight against himself, one paw groping her rounded breasts, the other buried two knuckles deep in her sex. She felt her nose pinken, amongst other reactions her body had to the provocative artwork. Did it all have to be so detailed??

She closed her eyes briefly, one paw reaching down along her belly to brush the tips of her fingers just against her sex lips. For a moment, the ship ceased to exist, and she was alone again, save for her new vulpine master pushed up behind her, his stiffness riding up against the base of her tail as his fingers plunged into her hot, waiting honeypot.

She gasped as the fingers sank deeper still, feeling her way deep inside until she hit that one spot. Curling her fingers, she bit her lip and moaned, her legs twitching and threatening to give out on her as lightning shot along her nerves like wildfire through dry grass.

In her mind, she went through the motions, her master always at her back, mirroring her steps move for move, like a flawless reflection of her dancing, one paw reaching up as she shifted as if to mimic holding a partners hand above her head. The fingers between her wet sex-lips twisted and curled with each move as if the original dancers had found the best motions to draw moans and huffs from a female's lips while still maintaining the flow of the dance.

Briefly, she cheekily wondered, how many times the dance's original creators had rehearsed it to find that perfect combination of erotic and invigorating pleasure…

Twisting, spinning, dancing, moaning- All of it reminded her of the castle and her forced servitude, but no longer did it hold the tang of slavery to it. No longer did the motions feel forced, or did she stress for perfection. Right now, she was alone, with just herself and the male in her mind for company, and it felt liberating. She never once considered touching herself while she had been imprisoned in that awful place, but now…

She arched forward and caught herself before she could hit her bed with her free paw, lowering herself onto her belly so that her breasts pressed against the mattress, her shoulders supporting the weight of her upturned rump and flagged tail. Her fingers took up a frenzied pace, quiet, wet noises filling her ears. She could feel it building, like the static charge one felt before lightning struck, energizing the air about her. 

She bit the comforter hard as she came, her body squeezing and clenching around her buried fingers, soaking them in her lust. Her imagination turned to a shower of sparks and lights that danced across the inside of her eyelids, and when she finally did come around, she was lying sideways on the floor, gasping for breath.

Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she saw the book she'd been reading from flopped open to a random page on the floor a foot from where her headrest. The vulpine bitch in the illustrations had an expression on her muzzle much like Shadi pictured herself when she was mid-orgasm.

She moaned as her fingers slipped from her cunt, practically dripping in her feline fem-cum, and without even thinking about it, raised them to her lips, and suckled on the fur until they were clean, purring at her flavour against her tongue. Finally, with a sigh of exhaustion, she dragged herself up onto the bed and sprawled out. A nap was both well deserved and called for. She could practice later, once her body had cooled down some and the room didn't smell quite so much of sex.

----------------------------------

It was night. Isiat looked up at the stars from his quarter's bay window, but couldn't see them through the thick clouds that smothered the view like a blanket over a sleeping guard, rough an ominous. They'd be sailing through a storm if it didn't break soon, and either be forced to land or divert, or heaven forbid, try and rise above it, where the air was so thin a man would faint while sitting at his post, or break in hysterics at his plight.

And while inside the cabins and decks may have been fine and insulated, heck, even warmed in certain areas where the piping ran through the decks, the merciless cold would still find a way to chill them all to the bone. He frowned as he watched the rolling clouds, reading the patterns and the currents in their forms and their movements. To him, it was like an intricate performance, and his pilots knew their business, rolling the massive tonnage of the High Fortune from one air current to the next.

The ship rocked and swayed, and sometimes juddered even when a strong gust of wind caught it, but thanks to the dampeners and inertial systems throughout, everyone onboard hardly felt a thing unless they were on the uppermost decks.

Still, it bode ill for his profit margin. An additional few days travel around the storm would add more expenses to running costs, to maintenance… The ship was already on a very finely tuned schedule as it was to remain profitable, but even so… He had his hopes. If the dancing girl he had picked up would perform as well as he hoped, for all he knew, he may well yet triple his margins...

He reached into the pocket of his silk vest, done up in a fine topaz blue, and flicked open his pocket watch, frowning. Well, he had asked Shadi to visit him sometime this week, but considering nobody had seen more of her than was required to fetch her meals, he was unsurprised. Some slaves took longer than others to adjust to their new conditions. Some refused to believe that it wasn't a trick for months, and he suspected Shadi would be one of them.

But even so, he had enjoyed her company. She was pleasant on the senses, and there was so much more he wanted to learn about her. One of his last acquisitions, a spindly lizard who had been captured by the jungle tribes, had turned out to be quite the scholar and a chess player at that. Isiat had bet him 50 Draskar over a match while they'd conversed, and learned, amongst other things, not to bet his odds on chess against the lizard again.

Each of them was an asset to his crew and an invaluable part of the greater machine at work that was High Fortune. Some of them just took longer to find where they fit into it all.

He'd invested a good portion of his ill-gotten fortune on buying up good slaves, ones who still had a future ahead of them, or whose skills he'd seen some value in. Frankly, it had been a reliable source of income for him as well. Paying them in his currency was another genius stroke from Scion, and his returns were at least typically without loss each time his bean counter did his job.

A rapping knock stole his attention away from the storm and the brooding skies.

"Enter." He called, turning to face the door. The floor panel to the side of the room instead rattled as someone tried to open it from the opposite side without the key in their possession. He chuckled, but the frustrated hissing from the other side of the hatch gave away his evening intruder's identity. He lifted the hatch to find an embarrassed looking Shadi on the opposite side.

"You know, the front door of my cabin is usually unlocked." He chuckled, offering a paw down to help her up the ladder.

"It's also cold outside, and we don't all have leather coats." She teased back at him. "Plus I can't find my way around on this ship in the daytime. It seemed easier to follow the lighting pipes here…

Truth be told, Shadi was also used to navigating around the maze of caves and tunnels that had served as her prison since she'd been enslaved. The sight of so much open sky overhead was still almost nerve-racking and made her heart race whenever her path brought her to the main crew deck. She'd made sure to learn her way about the lower decks so she could avoid those excursions wherever possible. The cold was the last thing that bothered her.

Even now, looking out past Isiat towards the dark storm clouds ahead of them made her heart give an anxious little flutter. Before she knew it, however, Isiat reappeared before her, blocking her view of the windows as he pressed a crystal glass into her paw. Holding it made her feel even more anxious, but Isiat was nothing if not observant.

Tactfully, he turned back, and closed the curtains with as casual a wave of his tails as he could, and instead, spent a few moments lighting some candles about his quarters between nursing his glass of brandy.

"So, I take it this means you finally finished my little bit of homework I set you?" He inquired with a grin that told her he knew exactly and intimately the content of each of the novels he'd listed.

She couldn't hide her blushing pink nose from his hawkish gaze, and so instead she hid it behind the proffered glass of amber liquor he'd thrust into her paws. The drink burned like a sweet flame racing across the back of her throat, orders of magnitude stronger than anything she was used to. It took all of her self control not to start coughing and wheezing Infront of her new master. If he picked up on her internal struggle, he made no show of it, simply watching as he slipped his drink effortlessly.

He waited patiently for her response, and after a few moments, she realised he would happily wait all night for her drink to be done and for her to have no more excuses not to answer him. She couldn't hide behind that glass all night. His grin only seemed to playfully mock her as the seconds ticked by in silence.

“I did… Sir." She quickly corrected her momentary lapse. Something about his casual mannerisms made it oddly easy to forget she was technically his property.

"Isiat, please. I've had to call enough entitled twats sir to last me a lifetime. You'll know if you ever need to call me sir." He added cryptically, his tails flickering.

"You look, much better, might I say? Already you've lost the look of the frightened, emancipated slave. Your fur has some lustre back to it. The dress suits you." He made a casual gesture towards the dress she'd worn. It was a simple thing, but it had shown up on her bed one day when she'd returned from a brief trip to the galley, and she hadn't questioned it. No that she was here, she had no doubts as to just who had picked it for her.

Still, he was flirting, and despite herself, she gave a small little courtesy, smiling, letting herself be pulled along with his little charm. Truthfully, she felt better now than she had in years. Between eating real food again and having a bed, clothing, not being locked in some dank, torchlit pit day in day out, existing purely for your captors' pleasure…

Well, it wasn't hard to find an improvement in her current captivity if that was where the baseline was being drawn.

“I… Thank you, Isiat. I feel better as well." She responded as vaguely as she could without seeming ungrateful for her rescue.

“Not hard when you go from a cell to a proper room. I know it. Must be difficult adjusting, but, this is what it will be for the foreseeable until you've satisfied your debt." He set his glass down on his desk, and proceeded to climb back onto it, his tails fanning out behind him before they settled, draped across the edge, the tips swaying to a soundless rhythm.

"So, tell me. How are you finding the ship? I trust everything is in order with your accommodations? Have your payment orders been reaching you okay?" He took another casual sip of his glass, but she saw the way his eyes roamed over her body, quietly admiring the way the fabric hugged her curves almost a little more closely than would have been otherwise strictly decent.

"It has been… strange. Everything is fine. If it weren't for my collar-" She reached up and rubbed at the offending band of metal around her throat. "-I might have even been able to forget that you own me." The words came out with more hostility than she meant them to, and at once, she regretted them. A sudden fear came to the fore that perhaps he'd be of the mind to punish her for her defiance.

Silly girl! He goes and feeds you, clothes you, and gives you a room to live in, and you spit it back at him because he owns you!

"That is the entire idea, Shadi. I own you, but it's more akin to say, a banker who gives a loan to one of his employees. In return, the banker merely expects the employee to continue their work, and to continue making repayments." He said it with such casualness that it was quickly obvious to Shadi that she probably wasn't the first of his many slaves to have brought the matter up before him. In a way, she felt foolish. He'd probably given the same answer dozens of times, if not hundreds.

"You're new. It's understandable, especially with how your last owners treated you. Things are different here, I promise you that." The way he said it caught her off guard. His sincerity was genuine. His eyes had stopped roaming over her, and instead, he'd fixed his gaze upon her, as if waiting for her next accusation of ill intent. She didn't make him wait. A few kind words of intent on his part still hadn't sold her entirely on what she'd agreed to the week before in her haste to put everything behind her.

"You say that, but really, it feels like it's just a different cage. I'm still expected to…" she felt her nose pinken as she averted her gaze from him, her tail twitching in rapid flicks behind her.

"It will be the fastest way to earn your freedom, I won't deny it, but if you do not wish to do those things anymore Shadi, nobody is holding a knife to your throat and making you. Remember that. I'd not make any slave do a job I wouldn't be willing to do myself." He stated bluntly. Part of her wanted to laugh at that. She certainly couldn't picture him bending over with faked eagerness for a client, lifting his tails and-

And yet, the flat, unwavering quality of his gaze held her tongue. She found no doubt in his expression or his words. Instead, after a few moments fixed beneath his stare, she nodded.

“Good. The ability to suck it up and do what you need to is a strength, Shadi. There are many slaves aboard who were here before you and will be here, long, long after you are gone simply because they lack the drive to do the jobs that will pay their debts efficiently. I'm not inclined to remove them from the vessel mind you. I'm not a cruel man, but the simple truth is, they will likely grow old and die here. You'll be free of that collar within a year if you don't change your mind."

He stood, and lifted his glass like he was paying her a compliment in a strange, roundabout way. She would earn her freedom because she was willing to let him fuck her, and the others simply weren't. In a way, she envied them. Perhaps they had a choice in keeping their dignity in their servitude. She blushed, biting her lip.

He drained his glass and stood, making his way over to the chaise on the far side of the room, one of his tails raising and twitching as he walked past in a come hither motion. He set himself down comfortably across the luxuriously woven cushions of the sofa and threw one leg up onto the top, kicking off his slippers as he did.

“So, here's the deal Shadi. Fairly soon, we'll be making port. When we make port and start making deals, you, my dear, will be serving as the sweetener, so to speak. Your entire job, and I don't care how you do it or what you have to do to do it well, is to keep their eyes on you, and off of the contract itself." He began, shuffling about as he made himself more than a little comfortable.

“I want you to show me how you plan to do that. We'll call it a rehearsal, and you'll be compensated accordingly. The pole is there, and your owner is in the middle of some very delicate and exactly worded negotiations. I want you to distract me." He flashed his teeth in a wickedly devious grin, and Shadi felt herself warming beneath his sinful gaze.

He gestured to the pole.

“There were a few dances I'm certain you noticed in those books that make extensive use of a dancing pole for support." He chuckled, stating the obvious as she hesitantly approached it. Her paw stretched out before her, unbidden by her mind, and brushed across the cool, polished metal. It slipped by beneath her fingertips almost frictionlessly, her leathery pads leaving just the faintest smudges in their wake.

“Music." She sputtered suddenly, as if only just realizing what she was doing, and looking for a way to get out of it. Her heart rate spiked as she realized just how… compliant she was being. It was a strange revelation, even if it was entirely expected in her situation. For a moment, she had forgotten the chains that bound her and the collar around her neck. She had startled herself, and it was unseemly for her to show it before her owner. Mistress would have had her whipped.

“Hmmm?" Isiat rumbled, as if curious, one eyebrow quirked.

“I always rehearsed with music in the castle… Or a metronome, or…"

“Say no more!" He rose quickly from the sofa, forgoing his comfort for her own, and crossed to a small cabinet set into the wall. The drawer on it folded open, and carefully, Isiat knelt, retrieving a black disk of vinyl which he set on the device's turntable. She'd seen the music players before, but much like the light tubes, their exact working was beyond her knowledge. They were the sort of luxury that had been far beyond her grasp, and too much of an exotic expense to use for a mere slave to the canines.

He adjusted the machine and lowered the needle onto the spinning record, a tune coming from the speaker horn, distorted, distant, but recognizable. It couldn't compare to having someone playing before her, but it would suffice. The tune itself was unfamiliar, but she caught the tempo easy enough, and that would be enough for her.

One two three four, one two three four…

Isiat returned to his seat, stretching out as he flexed the muscles in his tails, easing the cramps from his day out slowly as he let himself sink into the cushions. His paws fiddled with the buckle of his belt as he loosened it, and tossed it onto the floor beside himself.

Oh, she was a treat indeed. He could almost read her like a book. She'd have been terrible at card games, but perhaps she could at least keep his clients invested with her… other attributes. She cleaned up very nicely, as he suspected that she would. A few days to recuperate from her tormentors' clutches, and a few additions to get used to the new home he'd provided for her for the foreseeable future. She looked like one would expect a noble's daughter to look, and honestly, the gold of her collar suited her, even if it was a slave's band.

It was a weight he understood well, but she wore it gracefully at least, with the familiarity that came with time spent in one. He watched as she tentatively reached out and grabbed the pole, kneading her fingers as they curled around the sleek surface. She let her arms take her weight, and swayed, allowing gravity to guide her motions.

His tails twitched almost subconsciously to the rhythm of the racy tune coming from the player, drums and brass instruments, much unlike the violin or piano that she'd danced to previously, but she adapted to the change flawlessly, much to his pleasure to see.

“Good, good. I recognize this. Your clients may not know the names, but they will recognize the motions when you put on a show, and just how much you can draw their attention will be entirely up to how much enthusiasm you put into your dancing. Teasing is an art you already know. Together, we're merely refining it." He praised her, sitting upright and leaning forward, his eyes watching the round curves of her cushiony behind and her pillowy breasts as she wrapped one knee around the pole, gripping it between her thigh and ankle.

She spun like a trapeze artist between swings. Perhaps not with quite as much acrobatic grace, but she knew what she was doing, and there was no doubt about that. His purchase was well justified. He had no doubts most of his clients wouldn't be able to easily keep their eyes off of her… or their paws for that matter. That was fine. He knew what was expected of her, and she did as well. Neither of them was under any illusions as to the nature of her work.

“You want to invite them in slowly, like the scent of good cooking entices one into a kitchen. Even more subtle than that. You want to draw them in and make them believe it was their idea to be hooked in the first place. You have a figure that is perfect for the kind of tempting you'll be doing. It is not a natural dancer's form, but when you dance, people will watch enraptured." He encouraged her, feeling his trousers drawing tight, even without his belt.

It was like watching one of the professional pleasure dancers in some of the fringe colonies, on the edge of the mapped world. It was said they could bring a man to completion just with the performances they put on, signalling out and practically eye-fucking members of the crowd. People travelled vast distances and paid exuberant sums to see them. Of course, those were only stories. Isiat had never seen the profit margins to make such a trip worth his time, but perhaps he could teach Shadi all the same while she was technically his…

He slouched backwards, stretching his arms up. Her movements were fluid and graceful, following the motions of 'The warrior's concubine' quite exquisitely. A solo dance supposedly brought into the canine culture by far lands traders. It was... Very canine in its nature, as was the interpretation most drew from its performance if they were watching for some deeper meaning rather than just focused on the performer's body.

For Shadi's sake, he hoped they didn't, but for his own amusement, he did. She'd made slight variations from the traditional dance of course- Every dancer without fail brought their own unique twist to each dance they went through the steps of, and Shadi's was certainly no exception. She'd loosened her dress enough to let some fur show as she spun around the pole, letting her torso fall backwards until her head was almost touching the floor, her hair pooling out beneath her.

She eyed him with an expression he couldn't quite pin. It was almost as if she was trying to seduce him, but the only thing wrong was that he knew she was trying. He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his muzzle as she rose back up, letting him catch just the slightest glance of the sides of her exposed breasts. She shook her hair back like a wild mane and resumed contorting herself around the pole in her. Even over the music, he could hear her purring.

He wanted her, but good things come to those who wait… Or more accurately, those who waited for the right moment. The saying was woefully inaccurate in his experience otherwise. She was exquisite to watch, just like he had watched her that fateful night before he interjected into the plans of the wolves. She'd have simply been wasted, left in that castle. His icy blue eyes glimmered, and subconsciously, he licked his chops as she arched backwards, revealing her slender, pink sex lips just for a heartbeat as she lifted one leg.

It would have been shameful for him to leave her. It was like giving a chessboard to a caveman. They simply wouldn't have known what to do with it. They could appreciate the workmanship, the physical appearance, but beyond that, they could find no meaningful use for it. The same went for slaves like Shadi. The wolves had simply seen her as another cat to fuck and breed, a token to dangle above the heads of their foes, to emphasize their own supposed superiority over the felines.

Isiat had seen gold in her. And lots of it. She could perform. He'd rightly assumed she had education as most lesser nobles did. She was aware of more than her immediate surroundings and could plan as such. She was pretty, yes, and Isiat knew she would be even more so as she recovered from her ordeals. She was the cabinet's foe's daughter, and a known one at that. Even as a hostage, she held more value to him than they had attributed to her as a whole.

Why, if they had truly understood what a wrench he planned to toss in the works of their conflict, they'd have clung to her like a life raft upon the wild ocean. If he could force a truce, well and good, but if he could turn the tides and convince them how desperately they needed his merchandise in particular, well…

Everything had its price. Even a meaningful ceasefire.

But above all of the other things he could place value upon Shadi for, the most immediately useful and profitable was simple. She caught men's eyes. When she had entered that hall, Isiat could have lazily stolen the coin purses of nearly everyone in that room, including Scion, and nobody would have been any wiser for it. He planned to capitalize on that particular feature, and if it took her fucking a few of his business partners for him to empty their holds for a price that was frankly daylight robbery, well…

It wasn't as if she wouldn't share in the rewards of those ventures after all. He wasn't the only one would profit from his ventures.

“If you are going to play your part Shadi, I need to be sold by your performance. You're going to come across men who have used more underhanded tricks than a pretty slave girl on the side to sweeten their deals, and men who are going to do their best to not be distracted by whatever it is you may be doing. Your sole goal in these transactions is as straightforward as they come. I need you to turn them into putty, and keep their eyes on you, even if you have to smother them half to death between your tits to do it." He stated, perhaps a bit too bluntly, and Shadi stopped her dance for just a moment, leaning on her right arm against the paw, the other on her hips.

“So you rescued me from slavery and a lifetime of forced dancing to what, exactly? Dancing, debauchery, and more strange men fucking me how they please?" She shot back at him, her eyes meeting his. This time, they didn't waver. She was getting bolder by the day, it seemed…

“Yes, but the difference is that here, you have a choice. Say the word, I'll find one of the bakers to take you on as an apprentice, and you'll be here a decade before you've earned your debt and interest. I'm offering you a fast track for the skills you already have, and the things you know how to do well. Call it underhanded, call it wrong. But I promise you Shadi, you'll be paid well for your work, and no harm will come to you as long as that collar bears my mark. I don't tolerate people damaging my charges. They have a habit of taking the fast route back to the surface."

The fact that he hadn't referred to her as a thing took her slightly by surprise. She was still growing used to the notion of being viewed as more than mere property. After so long, she suspected it would be weeks if not months before she wasn't at least slightly surprised by someone addressing her by her name.

"You swear it?" She asked, trying to keep up her bold expression like she was absolutely sure of herself. Inside, she quaked like an anxious kitten, rather than the lioness facade she had adopted.

"I'll put it in writing and have Scion witness it if it'll keep you dancing a few minutes longer. I was enjoying that." He grumbled from his spot on the sofa, his tails twitching. The tent of arousal in his trousers was unmissable at even a cursory glance.

She had held that fear for a long time, that he would go back on his word and have either himself or someone else resort to physical force to make his slaves do his bidding. Even now, even after having seen the ship and spoken to a few of the crew, it still seemed to be too good to be true. What kind of man didn't treat his slaves like dirt? What kind of man didn't beat them?

What kind of insanity did it take for a man to pay them?!

Ever unflinching in his gaze, he watched her, waiting patiently for her response. What madness overtook her, she wasn't sure, but in the moment, she let her inhibitions and her worries flutter away like discarded confetti before a strong breeze. She raised her paw towards him, her free hand wrapping back around the brass pole. At some point, she had to make that leap of faith into the unknown.

"Dance with me, sir?"

He stood, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it over the chaise. He found her paw wanting his touch and corrected that immediately. His free hand sought out her waist and her wide, curvy hips, curling his fingers against the dress.

His touch was warm.

"Isiat." He teasingly reprimanded her. 

"And it would be my pleasure." He lifted her like she weighed no more than a feather. He twisted with her suddenly, and the motion caught Shadi entirely off guard, the lioness giving an entirely undignified squeak as gravity sought to reassert itself and toss her to the ground. But effortlessly instead, they swung around the pole, Isiat's many tails having dexterously curled around its length, acting as an anchor while leaving the rest of him free to move as he pleased, and make the most of that freedom he did.

He used the swinging motion to twist her in his grasp so that her back was against his chest, and elegantly following the flow of the music, they danced. Spinning, reaching, even slinging her around his waist in a complicated move she had only seen within the pages of books. The vulpine made it look like it was easy!

His own skill and knowledge might have easily outstripped her own. She had only been forced to dance for the canines after it was suggested she would be suitable for it. It had simply helped that she had been of status before her capture, and had been forced to learn a few of the performances as a matter of custom.

As for if she believed him when he said that he had simply 'picked up dancing' during his travels, well, Shadi wasn't quite sold on that. He seemed to know far more about the carnal performances than dancing itself. To say that he had picked up fucking might have been a more accurate description. Male's were generally fairly easy to predict, especially when they had their paws on your breasts as part of a 'dance'.

Even with that knowledge though, and her cheeks burning, she didn't bother to suppress the quiet moan that left her as he rolled her stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger, never failing to guide her actions as they moved from one sequence to the next, teasing her with touches and pinches all the while.

Of course, she knew just where the dance would end up, but he was a gentle partner compared to her other forced suitors. His paw on her hips slipped downwards between her thighs, curling beneath the hem of her dress and against her sex, feeling the heat and moisture that had already soaked into the fine peach fuzz of fur surrounding them. He couldn't help the chuckle that passed his lips.

“You may as well not wear any of the panties you've been provided while you're working unless I advise you to… Some men like to unwrap the treats themselves." He nipped upon the edge of her throat, and Shadi reflexively exposed her life vein to him, purring as she instinctively submitted to the touch.

"And you?" She gave a sultry sort of purr in return, pushing herself against the warm, leathery pads of his fingers. Despite all her hesitations and reservations about her new buyer… Owner… Isiat, she wouldn't deny that his paws felt good. His touch felt good, just he… He felt good, and the scent of his fur was an odd comfort, so much more pleasant and well kept than any of the males she'd been thrown to during her imprisonment.

Shadi, as it turned out, had a similar effect on Isiat. She was soft, and now that she was filling out a little more and actually being cared for and fed, her curvy figure was returning, along with an appearance of general well-being. No longer did she have the sunken, scared eyes of a lifetime slave, resigned to hopelessness and despair.

Hell, her little jests and pokes here and there in their banter were as welcome a change as any. It let Isiat know he'd managed to return some life to her, some sense of self and self-worth along with it. A defeated and beaten slave wouldn't have dared to speak without permission, much less asked potentially pointed questions of their owner. Shadi had already shown herself capable of both. Perhaps her adjustment to her new living situation wouldn't be as hard as he had originally worried.

"Me? Oh, they just get in the way. If I'm going to take them off, I'm going to tear them. Don't uh… don't bother with them if you're coming up here for me." He added with a knowing wink, a trio of his tails giving a mischievous flicker. He pulled her onto the pole beneath himself, forcing her paws up along its length like she were stretching as far as her little figure would allow, her tail raised, rump pressed back against him.

"There, just like that. You want to show off that feline flexibility, as well as your figure." Isiat's paws shifted, his fingers dancing down over the mounds of her breasts, along the sides of her ribs before he let them slide across her thighs, growling a single command as he did.

"Stay like this. Don't move. Tail up." He muttered, and Shadi giggled, suddenly finding herself blushing as his paws tussled with the bottom of her dress, lifting it along with her tail. She curled the long appendage around the pole just above her head, tilting her head around to look when one of Isiat's tails came from nowhere, bopping her pink nose with its tip.

"Ahh, you want to keep your focus on what you are doing, not what your client is doing to you. You'll feel that plenty enough to get an idea." He corrected her, tutting like a teacher scolding a misbehaving student… or a pet. She thought to herself. A shiver raced up her spine as his warm breath caressed her bare sex from behind, and she resisted the urge to jump at the sudden rush of heat that raced through her nerves.

"Have you been bathing yourself?" He asked, chuffing loudly beneath her dress, and Shadi felt everything from her cheeks to her breasts flush pink with embarrassment! What kind of male did he think he was?! Evidently, not the kind to wait for an answer!

His tongue swiped cleanly across her exposed sex, freezing her thoughts mid-way through processing, and instead, she just let her jaw hang agape for a moment, pressing her chest against the sleek pole to support herself lest her legs decided to give way. Her fingers closed tightly around it as well, squeezing the metal like she was trying to wring the brass coating from the steel core.

She gasped as he went back for more, his paws gripping the inside of her thighs and, as politely as a male with his tongue buried in a ladies privates as one could, nudged her thighs further apart, encouraging her to spread herself for his ministrations.

“Now, don't be afraid to make a male work for you either, Shadi… Roll your hips, make it feel good for you. You shouldn't need to fake any pleasure you find, nor should you shy from it… Certainly not with me…" His words ran across her mind like a pleasurable tickle of silk, just in perfect harmony with his tongue running across her splayed and sopping netherlips, the male eagerly gathering up her flavour on his tastebuds with each sinful swipe.

She knew that rightly, she probably shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as she did. She was a pleasure slave, a pretty dancing slave for him to whore out to men that he decided he needed a better deal with, and yet, she couldn't convince herself not to enjoy his touch as he pleased her with the skill of one well versed in the carnal arts.

She deliberately let herself go. Perhaps after so long confined within the castle, it was her minds way of embracing the freedoms he had given her, limited as they were. It was far more freedom for her than anything she had ever been provided by her canine captors. The closest she had come there was biting that bastard Orez's fingers off, and even then, the price of her freedom had been scarred across the flesh of her back.

He had given her choices and made no demand of any price for them. He had given her shelter, food, a room, space to breath, clothing, and the first real tastes of anything coming close to luxury she had felt in years. In turn, was it really so bad, so wrong that she shamelessly gave him her body when he asked it of her, rather than demanded it from her? He made efforts to make sure it wasn't simply his pleasure that was being catered to, after all.

That alone put him leagues above any one of those canine bastards who had raped her and left her to sob herself to sleep in the cold, cowering beneath a thin repurposed sack for warmth in the corner of dust, torch-lit cave.

No, she decided, letting her eyes drift shut as she took his words to heed, and slowly gyrated her hips atop the tip of his muzzle, smearing her arousal across the cool, leather tip of his nose while he sought to work his tongue deeper within her lust-swollen passage. No, this was her simply getting her reward for the work she would put in, something worth more than a few coins. For a few minutes with him, she let herself pretend that the weight of the collar around her neck was absent, and let the entire world and all of its problems be swept away with each stroke of his warm, broad tongue.

She didn't need to feel any sort of inkling of anything other than their professional relationship to enjoy his touch. She knew what she was to him, and he knew it as well, but he also made no efforts to go out of his way and be in any way cruel to her either, and so that already earned him points in her books.

Just until she had paid off her debt for rescuing her from that awful place… Then she could pick and fuck whomever she pleased and at her leisure as well. He made it seem like she had all the choice in the world of course when he had made her the offer that he had, but realistically, Shadi knew this was the path of least resistance when it came to earning her freedom, and if she had to earn it back one coin at a time between her spread thighs, well… At least he wasn't bad between her legs. Not in that way anyway.

For Isiat though, Shadi was an ideal slave for exactly what he wanted. Of, he had no doubts she could turn a man cross-eyed in moments if he gave her free reign to please his clients how she wished, but that wasn't how this business worked. This wasn't simply the red lantern rooms below decks, nor was it any simple courtesan who could to the job Isiat asked of Shadi.

There was more to separating a clever fool from his money than simply pleasing them. Too soon, and the illusion wore off, and their minds went back to the matter at hand. To long, and once more, it strayed back to business. Shadi was a dancer. She understood working in harmony with her partners. For Isiat, he needed her timing to be as flawless as her performances thus far had been.

Keep their eyes turned long enough to slip a few details by, and when the signature was flourished onto paper with a promise of pleasures untold if they did, well, then Isiat was more than happy for her to please them however she saw fit. At that point, their coin was already his, and Shadi had earned her keep of it as far as he was concerned.

Of course, he mused, between lick of her sweet, sticky feline nectar. It remained to be seen how well she could judge some of his clients, and just how well she would do when presented with a stranger to entertain, but he was confident in her. He could see her resolve and her strengths building up each time he lay eyes on her, and she'd only been aboard a measure of days. Given a month, she would come into her own, and given twelve, she would be off on her own, a free woman.

His fingertips kneaded into her soft, supple thighs, using his position to bury his snout against her delicious petals, slurping like a trained hound from a water bowl. Her moans escaped her, despite her best attempts to maintain her composure, and they were far sweeter music to his ears than any live performance from a maestro could have delivered.

When he heard her squeak and felt her body clench around his tongue, he knew he'd found something good, and flicking his tongue over the same spot again, he mercilessly made her legs quiver against his onslaught of oral lashings. He heard the shift in her tone as she bit the back of her paw to quiet herself, not that it did her any good. Curling his tongue around to cover the entire length of her slit, he licked her from her clit down to the bottom of her pink, puffy sex, moisture and feline arousal matting the fur of his muzzle. He looked every part the cocky vulpine with a well sodden snout to prove just what he'd been up to.

Shadi saw stars, her vision blurring and flashing with pulses of white. Her legs were locked rigid- If she hadn't, she'd have collapsed to the floor the second he had rasped his tongue across her clit. Even so, her climax was explosive, and her owner didn't seem to realize that she needed him to stop before she did drop to the floor! Either that or, more likely, he simply didn't care, greedily tasting her swollen petals as she spasmed and moaned for him.

By the time he did let up, Shadi's heart was pounding, her pulse a deep thumping of drums in her ears, which had folded flat against her head. He picked her up by the thighs, and Shadi squealed, gripping the pole as tight as a vice, her mind still reeling from the intensity of it all. He wasted no time. The tempo they fucked to did not permit for it, and if he was truly preparing her, it seemed to be his way of making sure she could keep up to the sudden shifts.

She did her best not to disrupt the rhythm that he was working to, the male loosening his tails from the pole as he twisted her, forcing her to go along with the motions. The music continued playing, and Shadi ended up with her legs wrapped around his waist, and her back pressed to the cool metal of the pole, holding it with one paw above her head, the other around his shoulders. She could feel his maleness probing for her wet opening, having once again managed to inexplicably free himself from his trousers at a moment's notice.

He always goes fast girl! He's had you enough for you to know that! If you want to start impressing, you need to keep up! She scolded herself, biting back a groan of pleasure while his cock wetly rubbed against her slit, her tail arching up and curling around the pole. She looked past him, to his tails, of all places, trying to re-order herself to whatever tempo he was keeping, but from watching him, she'd already puzzled out the trick to that.

The long, silky, white-tipped appendages swished behind Isiat as he growled and nipped at the edge of her throat, but his tails, Shadi knew, were the key to just how she could keep up to him. Even with the music playing, the pace that he was keeping was an entirely separate thing, his grinds and thrusts, even the rocking of his waist against her own was offbeat from the notes themselves. He kept his own time, and his tails betrayed the tempo of that.

One-two-three. One two-three-four. One-two-three. One two-three-four.

Shadi watched and counted the rhythm of his tails, and quickly let herself fall into step with it. Her hips gyrated to the new tempo he had set, pushing and rubbing against him step, and quickly, she found that the music was simply white noise in the distance. She opened her eyes again.

He was staring back at her intently.

Deviously, one could even say. The cocky grin had been replaced by one of hunger. Of lust. He was eyeing her like she was the prize at the end of it all, and he was going to have her no matter what. He was a merchant and a successful one at that. He knew when he'd struck gold.

“You're off tempo, kitten…" He playfully scolded her, his smirk stretching from ear to ear. A low, rumbling was echoing in her ears, and she realized despite herself, she had started purring, but that wasn't all. He was growling, and it was far, far from a threat. More a promise.

“Not for you I'm not. Only for the music." She pointed out. He thrust, but Shadi was ready for it, following his count with her body's motions. She met his hips upwards roll by pushing pulling herself against him with her thighs, and he came to rest snugly hilted inside her passage. She gasped as he filled her, letting out a soft cry to the rest of the cabin, her passage caressing his smooth, dappled length.

“I've fucked countless slaves Shadi. I've made love to nobles and peasant born alike. Not one, not a single one of them, even the dancers, has ever caught on to what you just did." He seemed to accuse her, pushing her against the pole as he started taking her roughly, but always, always on tempo with the count that Shadi now kept to herself. The odd-numbered count was reassuring, a way of keeping herself grounded to a constant, as it was strange in its very nature and pace.

“I- ah… Guess I-"

He silenced her by forcing another cry of carnal bliss from her mouth, leaving her breathless and moaning as he drew back and hilted with each subsequent thrust, railing her like a beast against the dancing pole.

“You didn't guess. You knew. That is why I paid for you. That is why I'll continue to pay you..." He seemed amused at that like he was speaking to her as if she were an employee of his, rather than his property.

“And that is why you, and not any of the other slaves from that forsaken castle, are my dancing slave. Keep that up, and you can fuck me all the way to your freedom if you so please." The words left his muzzle in a growl as he pressed his nose against her pulsing life vein, cleaning her silky fur with his sharp canine teeth. His hips didn't stop for a moment, delivering on the promise his words had made to her, his tip battering against her core. He forced the breath from her, along with her cries, moans, groans, and feline yowls, her thighs soaking with her dripping arousal and his churned precum that was hosing her insides and prepping the way for his knot.

She could feel it stretching her body out each time she pushed herself eagerly back against his thrusts, purring and calling his name in breathless pants. He was driving her pleasure onwards and onwards like a carriage with no brakes, tumbling with heedless recklessness towards the precipice of their carnal dance. She knew already she wanted him to just shove it in her, to tie her and fuck her into a stupor. She made no efforts to try and hide it either, her claws piercing neat little pin-pricks into the flesh of his back as she takes them along his spine.

One two three fuck! Why did it have to feel so good?! Ahh~!

Her thoughts were lost to the crashing waves of pleasure, the sound of the music long forgotten. All that mattered- all that existed in their world right now was each other, and the pole that he fucked her against. The wet slaps of their coupling filled the room with the messy noises of their rough fucking, the vulpine's breath hot against the overly sensitive skin flesh of her throat that wasn't covered by her collar.

Reaching up, he hooked a single finger into the gap between the thick, gold band and yanked her towards him, and before she had any time to process it, his tongue was in her muzzle, the taste of herself still hot in his lips. She let out a soft, delicate moan, and pressed her own against him, play fighting him for dominance. He quickly overpowered her, however, and pinned her tongue to the roof of her maw, abusing the underside of her oral muscle as his knot forced her to spread her legs as much as she could without risking losing her hold upon him.

She was kissing him just as eagerly and forcefully as he had pulled her into it. She didn't particularly like males kissing her when she had been the canine's captive in the castle. It had felt wrong like they were forcing the action on her as much as everything else they had forced her to do, but now, she found herself Isiat's willing co-conspirator in their lustful tryst. She didn't even try to resist his advances, melding like warm putty to his touch, her body warmly and snugly embracing him, even as he did the exact things her tormentors had done.

Perhaps it was simply because, at least to her, he was a better man. She found herself wanting to do those things with him and to let him do those things to her. At least he didn't starve her and humiliate her beforehand. She expressed her gratitude to him through her body's motions, and through the way her muscles rhythmically clenched and squeezed around his twitching shaft, coaxing him deeper, teasing his climax from him.

The way she could feel him throbbing was both exciting and erotic to her. She could feel how close he was getting just by the way he was moving in her. The way his prick jumped and jerked and his thrusts became increasingly desperate as he tried to force his knot into her, trying more than a little enthusiastically to tie her and reach that inevitable, blissful peak of climax.

Once he started into that frantic, frenzied pace, neither of them could have lasted. All dances had to finish, but it did not make the finale any less spectacular. The thick, meaty lobes of his knot spread her body apart like an overripe fruit, breaching the last obstacle holding either of them back from completion.

Her vision flashed white as her body went into uncontrolled spasms. It was only her owner's teeth upon her shoulder in a firm bite that kept her from soaring away entirely. The heat of the moment had gotten to them both, and she cried out in bliss to the world while every last ounce of resistance in her crumbled like sand before the waves.

Whatever had happened to her before, this was where she wanted to be now. This was where she needed to be. She would earn her freedom one blissful peak at a time. That was more than doable.

The moment of brilliant clarity vanished as orgasm crashed over her. She lost herself as she felt his warmth blooming in her core, each throb of his cock accompanied by a wet splash of cum against her cervix as she milked the male for every drop that he had to give.

For almost a minute they growled and moaned, lost in the throes of lust and locked to each other in a tight, carnal embrace, his knot lewdly bulging between the swollen lips of her feline sex. Simply put, they were biologically not made for one another, and yet they were enjoying that simple size difference immensely.

When Shadi's racing heart finally slowed to a more reasonable pace, and her thoughts caught up to her spinning world, he'd carried her back to his bed on the side of the room and drawn the curtains behind them, plunging the small, cordoned off partition of his cabin into twilight.

He lay with her carefully, almost caringly stroking a paw over her hair, a smug grin upon his features. That same grin was always on his lips when she saw him like it had been permanently chiselled there. Surely nobody could be that upbeat or cocky with themselves all the time. His eyes roamed over her body like his paws, lazily pulling her dress from her and casting it aside. She didn't resist, raising her arms so he could slide it from her completely.

The chill hardened her flushed pink nipples instantly, and almost as a courtesy, he made to quickly tug the thick comforter over them both. He didn't mean to-

Shadi's mind flashed in a brief moment of panic.

"Oh, no, no. It's okay, I'll go and clean up and go back to my-"

"Shadi, it's five points below freezing outside, and I'm not having you walk back to your cabin dripping me all down the corridors. You can stay here tonight, it's fine…" He tried to reassure her, chuckling. Did he really want her to sleep with him? She felt suddenly uncomfortable, reminded too much of the fancy dresses males she would have to entertain, and then suffer, stuck in their grips until the guards came to fetch her. 

She looked to the drawn curtains as if expecting one of their gold helmeted heads to peek in at any second. Despite her efforts to stay calm, she could feel the panic rising in her throat.

She gasped as he slipped from her body at last, and almost protectively curled her legs, tucking them against her chest tightly, her long tail curling between her thighs where she could feel him leaking.

Isiat could tell she was uncomfortable. Perhaps he was simply moving too fast with her. She was still very new to the ship, and he couldn't expect her to have taken to her new servitude any better than she had, not realistically anyway…

"Stay here tonight. It's only decent of me to request that much… I know this is all new to you, and I'm sure you will adjust with time, but here…" he shifted slightly and pulled the blankets over her shoulders before he stood, fetching himself a fresh change of clothes from the drawers inset against the wall.

"W-what are you doing?" She asked, a quiet mew from her position peeking anxiously out at him from the blankets.

"Well, isn't it obvious? I'm giving you the bed! Rest, Shadi. You've earned it… just keep in mind that Scion, the dragon you saw? He usually comes in around eight o'clock to do the day's budgets… stay there, I insist. I'll have fresh clothes brought for you, and you can go back to your cabin in the morning." He smiled at her, the friendly gesture coaxing her a few inches more from the covers.

At first, she didn't quite know what to say.

"But… but this is your-"

"Yes. Yes, it is my bed. That's right. Which means I can do what I like with it. In this case, what I like is to offer it to you for the night." He just flashed his grin and slipped behind the curtains to change.

He stripped quickly Infront of the mirror, admiring his physique for a few moments as he dimmed the glow-tubes. the way his pelt shimmered in the light of the moon shining in through the windows reminded him of a reflection cast upon the water. He trailed his fingers almost ritually across the numerous scars and imperfections, remembering each in turn…

Here, a sharp sting from the slash of a blade in his first proper swordfight. There, the scrape of a bandits crossbow bolt as it missed his chest by bare millimetres. On his throat, the sharp sting of a knife, hot breath against the back of his neck… Against his hip, the searing pain of the hot iron brand, as a mark of servitude was burned into his-

"Isiat?" Shadi's voice made him jump, and quickly, he reclothed himself, feeling slightly foolish. He tightened the soft, fabric belt around his waist.

"Yes, Shadi?" He turned and pushed his head back between the closed curtains. The lioness was sitting up, the covered pulled up against her chest, looking at him with those sweet, mismatched eyes. They sparkled like gemstones in the faint light, and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips.

"Come sleep with me? It wouldn't feel right to chase you from your own bed…" she purred sweetly, petting his pillow beside her.

His grin just widened. Oh, she truly had been worth every penny.

"Well, I mean, if you insist…"