Treel has just been to the back of the house to change diapers on his daughter -- one of the very few times Remarra allows him to touch the child -- and is passing through the main hall, walking rather slower than necessary, when there's a knock on the door.
Hrmph!
Puzzled, the raccoon looks at the old guard sitting by the door.
The wolf just looks pointedly at the door, then crosses his legs and leans back, making himself more comfortable.
Treel, knowing that even though he's excused from other tasks as long as he's carrying the child, it's not a good idea to ignore the implied order, so gently lays the blanket-wrapped baby down in a deep chair, then walks over to the door. Grabbing the handle, he takes a deep breath, then yanks hard on it, without any visible result. It must have been the rain last night. No wonder the guard didn't want to open it. Pushing against the doorframe with his right foot, he finally manages to move the heavy door.
As soon as the opening is large enough, two females hurries inside; first a vixen clad in thick, soft furs, then a rabbit, for once modestly clad in a woollen jacket. The fox waits, watching bemusedly, as Treel slowly forces the door closed, then takes off her jacket and tosses it at him. "Hang up our clothes," she orders.
"Yes, mistress," he responds quietly. Turning the jacket the right way up -- and wondering about the fur -- he carries it over to the pegs meant to hang visitors' clothes.
"It's made of small animals, and the collar is dyed fleece," the rabbit whispers. "My mistress won't wear anything made of slaves." Then she turns away and divests herself of her much simpler jacket and reveals that underneath she's only wearing a skirt.
"Ooh! What have we here?!"
Turning towards the voice, Treel finds the vixen busily folding back the blanket. "Mistress..."
"Shush!" she orders. "So cute!"
Fearful that she'll make the baby cry, Treel can only watch as the vixen picks up the baby and tickles her tummy.
"Remarra's child?" she finally asks. Then, when he nods, she adds, "And why is she letting you walk around with her?"
"Diapers," he mutters, "mistress."
"Going to change it?" she asks as she deposits the gurgling and giggling bundle into the raccoon's arms, "or returning after having done it?" Then, before he can answer, she disappears down the hall and into the corridor towards Remarra's rooms with the rabbit hurrying to keep up.
I'm in trouble! Every time one of Remarra's friends comes to visit, she gets horny and I get hurt. And now that she can't have sex... Grumbling to himself he casts a baleful stare at the wolf by the door, then slowly walks off down the hall.
"What took you so long!?" Remarra barks from her chair by the fireplace as soon as Treel enters.
"Sorry, mistress," he mumbles as he approaces the coyote and gently deposits the child in her arms.
"Fireplace!" she orders, looking pointedly at the vaning fire.
"Yes, mistress." Walking over to the fireplace, he grabs a piece of wood from the neat stack beside the fireplace, removes the metal mesh in front of the fire, places the wood on the embers and blows gently to make them flare up, then replaces the mesh and backs off, waiting for his next order.
"Go get us some tea."
Treel is about to scurry towards the door when he realises that it was the vixen giving the rabbit the order.
"Yes, mistress," she responds, meekly, then hurries off towards the kitchen.
"You!" the vixen suddenly barks, "come here!"
What does she want? Puzzled, he walks over to where she is sitting. "Yes, mistress?"
Digging around in the puch hanging at her waist, the fox extracts a small, white cube. Pawing it to him, she asks, "Do you know what this is?"
Huh? Can it be? Suddenly very nervous he slowly unwraps the wax-paper and reveals a red cube with the sugary sheen of a boiled sweet. Lifting it to his nose and taking a sniff removes the last vestiges of doubt. "Mistress," he begins, "it looks like the medicine that... that..."
"That's all I need to know," the vixen grins, snagging the cube from his paws, rewrapping it and stuffing it into her purse. Then, fixing her eyes on his, she hisses, "And all you need to know is that if you mention this to anyone, I'll cut out your tongue."
"You need my permission first!" the coyote growls. Then, grinning evilly, she adds, "Need help to hold him down?"
She'd probably enjoy it, too.
A few days later.
Remarra is out visiting her wolfess friend together with the vixen, and has taken her child with her. As she's not expected back until late, Treel has been assigned to help out in the kitchen, scrubbing pots, gutting carcasses and whatever else of messy work that needs done.
"I'm going upstairs for a while," the lioness announces as she prepares a pot of tea, "and won't be back down for an hour or so. Leela, you know what must be done. Don't disappoint me."
"No, mistress," the rabbit slave responds, "I won't."
"Going up to gossip," Leez, her raccoon slave mutters as soon as the lioness is out of earshot.
"Don't complain," the rabbit retorts, "she's usually in a good mood afterwards."
"How good?" Treel asks.
"We get to sleep next to her," the rabbit grins.
"Why are we preparing all this food, anyway?" Treel asks, trying to steer the conversation to a less distracting subject.
"The master holds a large party every winter," the rabbit explains. "For the next eight-day the house will be overfilled with his friends and family." Then, tilting her head and listening carefully, she adds, "And I think some of them just arrived."
An hour later, Treel is busy, with his head and upper body inside the largest cauldron, scrubbing it, when he hears the door to the kithen open and somebody entering. Though the cauldron dampens the sounds, he hears the rabbit politely greet whoever entered. Not the mistress or another slave, then.
"M-master, please no!"
Huh!? That was Leela! Suddenly anxious, Treel bangs his head against the rim of the cauldron as he sit up. Ouch! Rubbing his head with a bandaged paw, he gets up to find the rabbit cornered and being groped by a male coyote. Mistress Medara won't like it. "M-master," he begins, nervously, "you mustn't do that."
Casting a glance towards the raccoon, the coyote growls, "Don't tell your betters what they can or can't do!" Then he releases the terrified rabbit and lumbers over towards Treel.
Uh oh... Me and my big mouth!
"I think I'll teach you a little lesson!" The coyote pushes Treel back against the wall, pulls back his right arm and prepares to strike.
"What is going on here!"
Mistress Medara!
"This... this little runt," the coyote begins.
"Shut up!" the lioness growls. "This is my kitchen, and no one but me punishes slaves in here. Touch him and I'll break your arms." Turning to the rabbit, covering in a corner, she asks, "What's going on here?"
Glancing fearfully towars the coyote, the rabbit first stutters, then the words starts pouring out almost too fast for coherent sentences. "And then you came back," she finishes, slumping down in the corner.
"You tried to have your way with one of my slaves?" the lioness growls.
"She's just a slave!" the coyote exclaims, "what does it matter if I use her," nodding towards the room where the slaves with children are staying, "one of those, or go and pick one from the pens?"
"Touch one of mine," she hisses, "and I'll rip your head off, boil it and serve it to the slaves in the pens. Touch the ones with children, and your father will hold you down while I rip your head off! Now get out of here!"
His father? Not again!
Casting an angry glance towards Treel, the coyote turns and marches out of the room.
"The nerve of some!" the lioness spits, "who does he think he is?"
"M-mistress," the raccoon stutters, "who was he?"
"That was Damal, the masters' second oldest son. He's supposedly traveling to learn the wine-trade, but if rumours are true, all he learns is what the wine costs in bars and pubs."
"Second oldest? Are there more?"
"There's Maktaal, the oldest one, too. He's off apprenticing with a stonemason and won't be home this winter." Walking over to and sitting down on a bench, the lioness gestures for the rabbit and the raccoon to join her. When the rabbit sit down beside her, she grabs the raccoon's paws and pulls him closer. "You tried to interfere with one of your betters," she scolds, "and no matter the reason, you must be punished for that."
But.. I saved Leela from being raped by that coyote! When she pulls him down, he knows better than to struggle as she is much stronger than him.
Then, as he is bending down, she suddenly pulls him along until he's laying muzzle-down across the rabbit's legs. His tail is lifted, and he can feel it being gripped by a slender paw. "Start paddling his behind," the lioness orders, "and not too soft. Remember, this is supposed to be punishment."
"Yes, mistress," the rabbit grins.
Smack.
"Hard enough?"
"A little harder," the lioness orders, "he didn't even wince."
Smack!
"Oof!" Treel's gasp is more in surprise of the force behind it than any actual pain.
"That'll do," the lioness grins, "keep an even rythm until I get back."
"Mistress!" Treel exclaims, "where..." Ungh! "are you" Gasp! "going?"
When Medara returns a few minutes later with an elderly wolverine in tow, Treel is still being punished, but now it's a skunkette doing the work, and most of the household slaves standing in a wide circle, giggling.
"That should be enough," the lioness states.
"Aww, but mistress," one of the slaves, a raccoon pleads, "it was my turn next!"
"Leela!" Medara exclaims, "explain yourself!"
"Mistress," the rabbit mumbles, "my paw was getting sore and... they volunteered..."
Sigh. "You!" she commands, gesturing towards Treel who's laying across the raccoon's legs and obviously enjoying himself despite the paddling, "get up!"
"Yes, mistress," he sighs, opening his eyes and slowly getting to his feet.
"Sit down!"
Oww! No sooner has his behind touched the bench than he is up again.
"Let that be a lesson," the lioness whispers, "had you done as you should have, alerted me, he wouldn't have had time to do her any harm, but I would have had an excuse to rip that worthless pile of mange apart instead of just sending him away." Gesturing to the guard to step forward, she announces, "Girls, this is Jarra. He'll be staying here in the kitchen areas for as long as we have guests. Be nice to him, OK?"
"Yes, mistress," they chime in.
"Good. As you all know, the master of the estate hasn't released you for more than light duties, yet." The slaves all nods, knowing what she meant was that he didn't allow anyone to use them for their pleasure, yet. "Some of the guests," the lioness continues, "may not be aware of that, and that's what Jarra is here for; to explain it to them in a friendly manner."
Grinning broadly, the wolverine hefts a large club, "I'm good at explaining!"
"He's got good hearing, too," Medara adds, "and should be able to hear any screams he's not the cause of."
"Won't the master disapprove?" Treel mumbles. And get me more problems?
"No," the lioness replies, "it's his own orders that the females be left alone until he explicitly allows it. He doesn't want any of them to get injured or uncapable of having more children."
"What about me?" an older raccoon female asks, "mistress? I've already had five children..."
"So what?" the lioness counters, "you're not too old for childbearing, yet, and even if you were, he's not about to risk you getting sick and becoming useless. Besides, I don't want that to happen. We don't have many permanent household slaves. You like it here don't you?"
"Not having to work the fields again?" the raccooness whispers, "yes."
"Good!" Medara exclaims, "now make us some tea." Turning towards Treel, she asks, "Aren't you supposed to carry in firewood or something?"
As long as it doesn't involve sitting down, he thinks ruefully.
Evening.
Treel is in Remarra's rooms, tidying and generally keeping out of sight when he hears someone walking slowly downthe corridor. Remarra! He hurries over to the fireplace, pulls away the metal mesh and is in the process of stoking up the fire when the door opens behind him and the female coyote steps in.
"You!" she growls, "Here! Now!"
Uh oh. He quickly throws a log on the fire and replaces the mesh, then gets up and turns towards his mistress. "What is your order?" he asks quietly, "mistress?"
"Diaper!" she commands, dumping a wriggling bundle in his arms, "and hurry!"
"Yes, mistress," he whispers.
Entering the kitchen with the now crying child in his arms, the raccoon barely notices the tigress sitting there with a child of her own and chatting with Jarra, as he hurries past and into the small room where the clean diapers and such items are.
Exiting the room a few minutes later with the baby now gurgling happily, he is about to hurry back to Remarra when the tigress looks at him. Stop," she orders, "who are you? and Whose child is it?."
"Mistress," he begins, taking the oportunity to examine her more closely, taking in her modest but well-made clothes, expensive bracelet on her right arm, elegant boots more showing off than hiding her feet. She's beautiful. "I-I'm Treel, mistress."
"And the child?" the tigress asks. Nodding towards a door, she adds, "I thought all the slaves' children were in there?"
"It's Remarra's daughter," he replies quietly.
"I didn't know she was mated," the tigress comments, gesturing for him to move closer so that she can get a peek at the child. "Why is she entrusting her child to a slave?"
"She's not mated," Treel responds, "and I'm the father of the child." The last coming out as a low whisper.
"Really?" she grins.
"Excuse me, mistress," Treel pleads, "but I must hurry back, or..."
"Or she'll hurt you?" she finishes. "Go ahead." Then, turning towards Jarra, she asks, "Was this what you meant by 'strange happenings' in your last letter?"
"Among them," he grins, "it has been a strange year."
Night.
Remarra has put her daughter in the crib and is preparing to turn in for the night when she notices something. "Why are you standing?" she asks, "you usually sit down and slouch off whenever you get a chance."
"I-I..." he stutters.
"What is it?" she asks, putting a bit more force into it.
Knowing that the next time she'll shout and wake the little child, then blame him for it, Treel finds no other recourse than to tell what happened earlier that day, but leaving out exactly how hard the spanking was.
"She punished you, without asking me first?" Remarra asks, her voice suddenly full of concern. "Come here."
What is she planning now? Puzzled and somewhat apprehensive, he moves to stand beside the coyote.
"Did it hurt?"
"Y-yes," he mumbles. What IS she planning?
Looking concerned at him, she walks around the raccoon as if she were looking for damage. "I wonder," she mumbles, then suddenly pushes him so that he falls forward, landing muzzle-first on the bed. Then she hurries to sit down on his back. "This is going to hurt!" she exclaims.
Smack!
"Oww!"
"That was for not telling me about the punishment immediately," she growls. Shifting her weight she ends up sitting so that she faces his tail and with one leg on each side of his hips.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
"Oww!" he exclaims. "Mistress?!"
"Shut up!" she growls as blow after blow lands on his unprotected and very sore behind.
Instinctively, he tries to move his tail to block her arms, only to have her turn around and smacking his head before continuing her punishment.
Aah! What's with her? Oww! Why is she panting?
Smack! "Stop!" Pant! "Squealing!" Pant!
I'm not moving! What is it with her?
Panting harder and harder the coyote continues to rain stroke after stroke on his behind, but now also rubbing herself up and down his back. Moan!
She... She's enjoying this?! "Aww! Ooh!"
Gasping and growling incoherently, her paws now begins to hit the base of his tail, making him twitch and squirm. "Ooooh!" she gasps.
Then her paws hits a particularly painful spot on the base of his tail, making him buck and scream. Another hit on his buttocks, sending daggers of pain through his body as her claws digs through the fabric of his pants, the fur and finally the skin.
Is she... Then he screams again as she moans and squeezes his buttocks, forcing her claws deep into his flesh as she orgasms.
"Oooooh!" Completely spent, the coyote slowly lets go of his butt, then slowly falls back and slides off the raccoon. "That... was..." she mumbles.
She's crazy!
"Get off my bed," she orders, "unless you want to be punished again..."
"N-no, mistress," he mumbles, shakily getting up and moving away from her just in case she decides to continue the punishment.
"Take the tray to the kitchen," she orders, pointing to the tea-tray on the table.
"Yes, mistress." Hobbling over, he picks it up and heads for the door, all the way feeling her eyes rest on his abused behind.
Returning to Remarra's room a few minutes later, Treel for a moment considers sleeping in the corridor outside her door, but decides against it as her father probably wouldn't like it. Sighing, he slowly pushes the door open and slinks inside. Seeing that the coyote is now laying in her bed reading a book in the light of the lamp on her nightstand -- the only lamp still shining -- he pads behind the folding screen in front of his bed -- the only 'privacy' her father had allowed her -- quietly removes his clothes and folds them neatly, then slips under the blanket. Ouch! Clenching his jaws shut he slowly and carefully moves over til lie on his belly.
Note: While Malarr, the master of the estates, usually doesn't mind if his staff and guests use the household slaves for their pleasure, he will not allow it until at least four eight-days after they've given birth as having sex with them sooner increases the risk of injury or even an inability to carry new children, and in his books that's an expense he doesn't want. Slaves born on the estates are considered cheaper than buying. They are also considered easier to train. Females capable of carrying children is therefore worth more than barren ones.
Having the mother and child living in the main house for the first year not only means that the child has a better chance of growing up healthy, but also that the female is unlikely to get pregnant again the following spring, as having another one so soon can be dangerous.
As an added incentive, any female that gives birth to five or more children is transferred to the household permanently, which means better food, decent clothes and lighter duties.