Catgirls and Chastity Ch. 02

Hot grains of sand shifted underneath Gwaar's toes.

The sunlight of her homeland cast dark shadows beneath her and Nyaarm as they circled each other, pacing measured strides across the sand. It shone brightly on the accessories her keeper had acquired in the weeks since Gwaar had seen her last - since Nyaarm had abandoned her and her duties to sail off who knew where. A golden torque ringed her neck now, snug to her pale skin, and two large golden hoops looped through the base of her ears.

Only a few of their Domain Formation realm elders would dare to openly wear true metal as she did, let alone as a decoration and not a weapon. Gwaar could see many of the seniors eyeing her from their seats ringing the arena, no doubt wondering where she'd acquired the accessories... and whether they could scheme them from her somehow.

Gwaar would make sure that they didn't have the chance.

She flexed her desire and bared her teeth, enjoying the comfortable pressure of the cage. She'd missed that feeling; when Nyaarm had been keeping her, her balls had been kept so empty that the cage had barely been a prison. No longer. The familiar edge of desire spurred her on once again.

"What's the matter, Gwagwa? Didn't you miss me?" Nyaarm called, interrupting her thoughts. She sounded sincere. Nyaarm was never sincere.

"Where did you get those?" she asked.

"Oh, these?" Nyaarm tapped a claw on her golden necklace. "They're pretty, don't you think so?"

"Did you find them on your journey?"

Nyaarm frowned. "You don't think they're pretty?"

"They're... desirable," Gwaar managed to say.

Nyaarm skipped and giggled. "Aren't they? Do I look fuckable? You want to rip that cage off and ruin me, don't you?"

"I do," said Gwaar, honestly.

"You want me?"

"And that cheap metal jewellery."

Nyaarm snorted. "That's classless. If you want to goad me into telling you where I found them..." She cocked her head and twisted her ears back, as if listening to something, and then suddenly frowned. Her voice turned impatient. "Let's get this over with. Whichever one of us claims the other, you'll soon know everything."

"Hm." Gwaar flared her first two crystals, feeling the hum of her own song thrum through her diaphragm as hot strength flooded her muscles. She unsheathed her twin warblades from the harness on her back and swished their claw-thin blades over the sand.

"Yes, just like that," Nyaarm purred. "It's your wedding day, Gwaar sen Maowenskattir. Come and get me!"

Gwaar growled. Sand puffed up as she flashed across the arena. Her third crystal flared as she wove her strength into her blades and swept them across her body in front of her, hugging Nyaarm's shadow with a sharp embrace.

A shadow was all it was. Nyaarm's own crystals burst alight with a sickly pale yellow glow, almost like a Nanna's, and she drifted back across the sand. That was expected. Gwaar looped her momentum into a spinning backhanded cut with both blades, sweeping her retreating keeper to the side, and followed with another cross-slash, driving her backwards.

Three paces forward, across the familiar golden sand, to catch the shadow. Spin, slash, thrust. She ignored how fresh the air felt on her empty hole, flexing as she stepped and lunged. So much of her routine and her future had been unknown for the past year, but she knew who she was in the arena. Speed, strength, and just the right amount of desperation; there was an art to blending them into the perfect storm.

She snarled as her blades whistled through the air. Her keeper's aspect of weight allowed her to drift away like a cloud, seemingly impossible to hit, but she was still just an Inanni, in the flesh, and there were only so many paths available on the battlefield. Gwaar knew her range. She watched Nyaarm's paws dance, staying a blade's length from them -- close enough to punish her should she try to float upwards, but far enough that she couldn't bring the fight in close. So long as each of her strikes cut off two of the three other paths of escape, she controlled the fight.

Desperation sang, but she let it fuel her; the mind knew what the body didn't. They'd had this fight hundreds of times, and she'd won all but one.

In moments, the key to the fight approached. The yowling cheers of the audience made a raucous din in Gwaar's ears as she spun and lunged twice, driving her keeper to the right, and then followed up with another cross slash, pushing her back. Nyaarm's hind paw floated back and touched the coliseum wall. High up above, the pointed ears and golden eyes of their seniors, rising out of their seats to watch, peered over the edge.

Gwaar swept her blades back in from each side, one low and one high, tension fizzing in her arms. Last time they'd reached this point in the duel, her keeper had chosen to spring towards her. Would she choose that direction again?

No. Nyaarm leapt upwards, her hind paws leaving the sand. Gwaar's right, upper blade hitched briefly as it chewed one of her legs off below the shin, sending a spatter of golden blood across the grey wall.

She blinked, and suddenly Nyaarm had sprung backwards off the wall and was somersaulting towards her. For a brief moment, the two of them hung face to face, Gwaar right side up and Nyaarm upside down. Nyaarm's wide eyes shone with a frenzied pale yellow. The thin, black hairs that ringed her tear ducts were swept back in the breeze.

What a fool. Gwaar bent backwards at the waist, sweeping a single blade back over herself. Her keeper didn't -- couldn't -- shift her neck in time, and the thin shellmetal sliced right through. She stepped back and twirled, following up with a thrust to the core now that her keeper's senses had been blinded. It...

"Galla," Gwaar cursed.

Nyaarm kneeled on the sand, her neck unblemished. An exhilarated smile bared her small fangs. "Why'd you pause, Gwagwa? Don't you want me?"

"What is this?" Gwaar hissed. Her puffed-out tail curled close around her leg. "What have you done? What are these metal bands? Why are your crystals yellow?"

"Strength isn't just about the self, you know? Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for power." She cocked her head, eyes flicking elsewhere. "No, that's not a strange thing for an Inanni to say. I should know."

"Demon," Gwaar spat. Any shred of empathy that she still had left for her former sister faded away.

Nyaarm giggled. "Come and get it, then. Tame your demon! You want what I have, don't you?"

"No." Gwaar thrust her blades forward. It was the quickest, simplest stroke.

"Liar!" Nyaarm yowled. Her third crystal flared and her hands flicked up from the ground, tossing up a curtain of sand that met the blades and, with a mighty crash, flung them upwards. She'd imbued them with her aspect.

Gwaar gathered her body and sprang backwards, ignoring the hot pain of something tearing in her right wrist. Good that she had -- the arena boomed with a dull report as a grain of sand smashed into the ground where she'd stood. Nyaarm had taken to the air. Her pale skin appeared dark and ominous with the sun behind her, and her golden robe, tattered by numerous narrowly avoided slashes, fluttered behind her like a broken wing.

She flicked out another grain of sand, and Gwaar began to dance across the sands.

That was the tricky part about fighting Nyaarm - outside of the middle distance, she held an infuriating advantage. When she'd made space, she could fling superweighted projectiles. When she'd grappled you, she could imbue herself with weight that was impossible to wrest away.

"You can still win, little wife!" called Nyaarm, flicking out another projectile.

Gwaar dodged, growling at the sincerity in her keeper's words. She was right; there was a chance. Eventually, Nyaarm would have to descend to collect more projectiles, and then she would be vulnerable.

It was easier said than done, though. Gwaar dashed across the arena, followed by a series of explosions, and then leapt to the side, avoiding a speck falling from above that she narrowly caught in her peripheral vision. That trick had caused her loss in the last match they'd fought.

"Good dodge. You can do it, little wife!"

"Shut up!" Gwaar snarled. Why did she sound so sincere?

Fortunately, all Nyaarm could control was the sand's weight, so every grain of sand which she didn't throw dropped directly from above. By keeping an eye on the sky above her as she dodged across the arena and carefully controlling her center of balance, Gwaar survived. She could feel the breeze and the roughness of the sand on her left breast and ass where her own robes had been torn by the explosions, which rankled at her, but she survived.

"Now!" Nyaarm yelled, as the rhythm from her second crystal changed.

"Damn it to Kur, I don't need your help!"

But her keeper was right, now was the time. Suddenly heavy, Nyaarm crashed down from the sky, and Gwaar dashed forwards. A ring of sand exploded upwards where her keeper fell; she leapt up twice the height of her body as the sand rose, using the curtain as a screen for her movement, and then fell blade-first into the heart of the storm.

She was two blade-lengths away when Nyaarm looked up. Her left blade lined up three of the grains of sand flung towards her and deflected them, flying out of her grip from the jarring impact. Her body contorted to take minimal damage from the others. Piercing heat shot through her shoulder, eye, and stomach. It was point damage; she'd survive. Half-blinded, Gwaar brought her remaining blade down on her keeper's torso, grinning hungrily. This was the heat of battle that she'd missed. Despite desperation, despite hardship, here she was, victorious!

The ringing of metal on metal echoed through the arena.

One of the golden hoops that had been looped through Nyaarm's tall ears hovered in the air before her, blocking her blade. White runic patterns shimmered on its surface, almost invisible in the sun... but definitely there.

Nyaarm didn't move. She sighed. "Look at you, little wife. When you want something, you'll do anything to get it, even if it's stupid and blunt and it tears you apart. I love that about you. It makes me almost sad to bind you... Almost! I need you to be happy, too, you know? Sorry." Her gaze turned up and away again, and she worried at her lip with a small fang. "Yeah, yeah. I know what I said. I lied. Whatever. You want me to lose? No, they won't be a problem. We made a deal with mother, remember?"

Gwaar slowly stepped backwards, putting distance between her and her distracted former sister. She held her remaining blade at the ready in hands that trembled with tension. For once, desperation was winning the battle with her willpower. Her mind spun with strategies, but each of them more doomed than the last.

If the golden rings were what she thought they were, there was only one option left.

She stood tall, tail as straight as she could make it, and flared her aspect to add strength to her voice. "Fellow daughters of Inanni," she called, "The creature before you is no longer your three-star sister, Nyaarm mao Raoraskattir, but a demon who wears her form." She eyed her keeper as she spoke, but Nyaarm was still arguing with the golden ring. That confirmed her fears -- the artifact was sentient.

"She abandoned me, and her duties, to risk her life on the sea. For what purpose? She returns with powerful, mysterious artifacts, yet refuses to share them with her sisters. The color of her crystals has been perverted, yellow instead of orange, like no Inanni ever before her. Are these the tells of a good keeper?"

Gwaar paused, letting the audience react, but now their cheering and yowling had given away to the quiet scratching of claws on stone. She growled. No miracles for her, today. No Inanni of lesser stature would dare to form an opinion on an important issue without seeing how their superiors acted, especially in public.

"Even before this," she continued, because what else could she do, "She mistreated me. She does not find power through desire, as we traditionally do, but pride. She told me a year ago, when we made this bet, that she would channel that pride by looking down on me, not raising me. And..." Gwaar paused, controlling her voice. Fear, despair, and the beginnings of acceptance had knotted her throat. Tears pricked her eyes.

"And she did. Daily orgasms, daily training on my" -- she almost used the word Nyaarm had begun to use for it -- "my hole." Gwaar's cheeks burned. She looked up at the central dias, where an Inanni clad entirely in white and gleaming gold sat. "Holy Mother!" she cried. "Please. I have lost, but to a demon, not an Inanni. I am more useful to our goddess as a weapon than a mother. See the threat -- untrusted power within is as much a danger a--"

Nyaarm threw her golden ring. Gwaar cut her words off and leapt to the side, scrambling across the sand, but the ring carved silently through the air towards her. Desperate, she raised her blade and narrowed her eyes, focusing. If she deflected the ring by hitting it at the very bottom with the flat of her blade, it might not disarm her...

The ring passed right through her blade.

A heavy weight struck her in the throat. The arena exploded into a sea of blurred colors. The sand came up hard, crashing into her shoulders. She flailed against it. She dug her hind claws into the ground and threw her lower body to the side, but the choking pressure on her neck remained.

Gwaar's hand confirmed the dreadful reality -- the golden ring, too heavy for her to lift, was fitted snugly around her neck. Her searching claws found no seams to pull at on its smooth surface. And as Nyaarm approached, looming large above her, the ring constricted, flattening her vocal cords.

The white-gold markings on Nyaarm's cheeks wrinkled as she frowned. "More useful to Inanna as a weapon than what, little wife? What were you going to say? A breeding sow? A vessel for me to rid my fluids in?" She bent down and flicked Gwaar gently on the nose. "I might have preferred if you'd won, you know. That would have been simpler. But now... don't worry. I'll make sure that you enjoy your place."

Gwaar choked out a snarl. She'd found her discarded blade with her hind paw and brought it up in a half-moon slash, gripped between her toes. Nyaarm spun about, bashing the shellmetal aside with the other ring. It thudded against the sand to Gwaar's right, out of sight.

"Naughty," her keeper said, her voice lilting with amusement. "That's the struggle in you that I love. Do I have to remind you what your body knows about pleasure?"

Gwaar felt four small pinpricks settle themselves on her balls, lightly digging in. She shook her head. Tears flooded her remaining eye, blurring the glare of the bright sun. "Please... Nyanya. Don't--" Gwaar's words cut off into a strangled, gasping mewl as the pinpricks briefly disappeared and Nyaarm stamped down, flattening her balls against the ground. Gwaar managed to control her hips -- them rising would only make the pain worse.

"You don't say, 'Please,' little wife," Nyaarm purred. "You say, 'Thank you,' like a good wife. Understand?"

Gwaar tried her best to nod, only able to tilt her chin slightly with the collar constricting her neck.

Nyaarm giggled. "Good. You act stubborn, but this part of you" -- the pinpricks settled back into place on her balls -- "always tells the truth, doesn't it? You love me. And soon," she trailed off, looking up and casting her eyes around the hundreds of other Innani who sat there, watching. She patted the other golden ring, still looped through an ear. "Soon everyone will. Yes, you're right, little gold. Everyone will love me."

She stood tall, casting a shadow over Gwaar, and flung her arms out wide. "It's true!" she yelled, voice amplified. Hers was deeper when she did that, with her aspect of weight fueling it, ringing out like heavy footsteps on hollow wood. "What Gwaar says is true. I intended to ruin her. I state that honestly. Is it not, you know, our entire purpose to honestly represent our great mother Inanna? To know ourselves, so that she recognizes us when she returns? I know who I am. And because of that, I am strong. Stronger than this little wife, and more worthy to serve Her in battle."

Her keeper -- her owner, now, she admitted -- spat, and hot liquid painted Gwaar's cheek. She closed her eyes, her small chest shuddering. If the Holy Mother hadn't intervened yet, she wouldn't. Unless Nyaarm gave her a very good reason to do so, others would say that she had been indecisive.

"More worthy than any other Aspect Projection peers," Nyaarm continued, her voice ringing with confidence. "After my Gwagwa and I consummate our marriage, here, I'll return to this arena and remain here for five years." She paused. Gwaar felt her feet shift, the pinpricks leaving her balls, as Nyaarm looked elsewhere in the crowd. Her body ached. Pain, despair... and arousal, that too, fought through her nervous system.

"You, of the other Great Races," Nyaarm said. "Summon your brightest talents. I have already spoken with our great Holy Mother -- we will allow them safe passage into our lands and any who beat me, Nyaarm mao Raoraskattir of the Inanni, will have my life to serve. If, you know... they can dare to bear the same consequence themselves."

Oh. So that was it. A strangled laugh cut from Gwaar's constricted throat. There hadn't been any hope from the start. Nyaarm had coordinated all this with the Mother already. Their Mother had always respected power, no matter the source. She considered it hers so long as she held the final say, so Nyaarm would be safe so long as she pretended obeisance. It made sense.

Tears flowed from one eye, golden blood from the other. Both burned in the sun's heat. She was nothing more than a sacrificial piece in their game of lil.

"You see," Nyaarm continued, her voice rising with fervor now, "The secret to my power, you know, would you like to know? Of course you do. My secret that Gwaar laid bare, it's true. Pride fuels me, not desire. Inanna has gifted us these powers, these bodies -- should I not be proud? Me, like you, cast in this form by the greatest beings to have graced the Earth?"

A soft, sandy foot stepped on Gwaar's chest, then another. Twin half-moons of pinpricks arrayed themselves over the rise of her small breasts as she steadied herself with her claws. Nyaarm was using her as a pulpit for her ramblings.

Her owner's voice took on a lecturing tone. "But pride, as I have learned, has a flaw. To be proud is to make comparisons. To cast light is to make a shadow. We, those of us in the great races, are afraid of those who are different. Like this one, so afraid of me."

A slap suddenly rocked Gwaar's nuts. She mewled with surprise, hating how pathetic she sounded, and Nyaarm giggled.

"If she had respected me, you know, if she had treated me well when she was my keeper, she wouldn't look so pathetic now. Instead, she ignored me. She gave up on me."

Another slap. Gwaar tensed her thighs, refusing to react.

"She was once the strongest of her generation, but her resentment ruined her."

Another slap. If Gwaar tensed her muscles the cage tightened on her desire, but if she relaxed, Nyaarm would get to enjoy her reaction to the abuse. She shuddered, torn between her pleasure and her pride.

A hand grasped her ankle and lifted it high, splaying her legs apart. More slaps rained down on her tender balls, exposed to the audience. Gwaar shook and mewled at the humiliation; her instincts had chosen to relax. She'd grown too used to relaxing, in the past year of abuse.

"See, now, where her desire comes from," Nyaarm mewed. "I've tamed my little wife well." The crowd murmured as fingers stroked across her tender hole. It had been convulsing, hadn't it? It felt so empty.

Gwaar clawed at the golden ring on her throat, trying to speak, to thank Nyaarm in the hope that she would make her humiliation quick, but her keeper ignored her strangled noises. She tossed her ankle back down. A hind paw came down on her cheek, pressing her face into the hot sand.

"You all watching this," Nyaarm continued, working in a confident laugh. "We have plenty to be proud of, don't we? But pride in just one thing -- ourselves, our traditions, our gods -- breeds hate and distrust. While the Dustbringer of the Kiin and her Enli toy grow closer to each other, we compete. While their races grow stronger together, we stand alone. And like this little one beneath my foot, no matter how strong we are, if we continue like this... we will fall."

Gwaar's remaining eye peered out over the horizontal world, taking in the craters and pockmarks of the battle they'd had. Her last battle. The tears continued to fall, blurring the golden sand. She'd miss that feeling. She'd taken so much for granted. She was supposed to have had hundreds, thousands of years to enjoy it.

Up high, in the first row of the coliseum, some few familiar faces looked on. Grawla, her instructor in the training dens. Uwuwu, her first blade-mother. Maowwn, her mother. Their expressions were stoic. They would be rationalizing her defeat, thinking that at least the children Gwaar bore would be strong. That soon, bound to Nyaarm, she would be content.

All Gwaar could do was make them happy with the time she had left. She would bear this as an Innani should.

"--found it beautiful, despite the flood," Nyaarm was saying, with a voice full of meaning, rambling on about her journey. "If I hadn't been admiring the sky, hadn't seen the speck of a blue weeniebird wheeling against the distant storm and felt the curiosity to follow rather than disregarding it, you know, I wouldn't have found what I did. I'm proud to be an Innani, even in our broken world. And not because I'm not an Ereshki, or a Nanna, or a Nerga, but because, you know, I can share it with them. That's the key -- we have to find something to be proud of in everything, no matter what it is, or we begin to resent that other. Pride alone is a disease."

Nyaarm removed her foot from Gwaar's face and Gwaar looked up at her, seeing the genuine affection written in her small smile. Perhaps that was a good thing for her, infuriating as it was. They'd spent their whole lives together, and still, her moods made no sense at all.

"This one before you. She neglected me, too. She didn't care to learn how to train me, who didn't cultivate desire." She paused, raising a foot, and her next words oozed with vitriol. "I hated her for it." The foot came down.

The impact that Gwaar arched her back to recieve didn't come. Instead, toes gently pressed her cage in. Nyaarm laughed. "Look at her flinch!"

Nyaarm turned her gaze back up to the watching audience, her toes continuing to caress Gwaar's ballsack with a gentleness that she'd never felt before. "She doesn't know that I already forgave her. I see the beauty in her. I see her joy at being touched and cared for. I see her stomach fat with the next generation and her heart full, too, knowing that she continues our legacy. Even when she served with her weapons and not this" -- the toe circled the entrance to Gwaar's hole, making her shiver -- "this potential was in her all along. I could hear her mewl at night when she fingered herself, wishing that someone was strong enough to take care of her."

Gwaar frowned. That wasn't true. But... her acquaintances would be at ease if they believed it, and she was strong enough to be a sacrifice for them. She arched her back, lifting her ass off the sand, and tried to swallow the toe at her entrance. Giving in was easy. The familiar heat of submission was already spreading. Her cage was tight. Likely as tight as it ever would be again.

Nyaarm's familiar giggle had a hint of surprise to it, now, as she danced her foot around for Gwaar to follow with her hips, and Gwaar smiled. That surprise was a small victory.

"Look at that! I think she's ready," called Nyaarm. Her voice softened, then, as she laid off with the amplification and spoke directly to Gwaar. "She sees that I'm finally strong enough to release the beauty inside her. Aren't I?"

She sank to her knees between Gwaar's legs. Her smile was triumphant, little white fangs dazzling in the sunlight. "Come, then, little wife," she murmured, only for her. Her claws lightly grazed over Gwaar's nipples, gentle but promising more. Annoyingly gentle.

"You love me too, then?" Nyaarm cooed, as she reached back with both hands and lifted Gwaar's ankles into place above her tail. A small pressure prodded against her hole, hot and dripping, smearing slickness against her sensitive areas.

Her keeper's corrupted yellow eyes were large in her vision as she leaned forward, replacing the blinding sun. "We haven't done this before," she mewed, "But I know you can do it. Relax, little wife. Be greedy. You can do that, can't you?"

Gwaar obeyed, loosening her muscles. It was too easy; her hole had been making itself known all day, tensing and gripping as she fought, trying to swallow the breeze each time she'd moved. How long had it been since she'd been filled?

Something hot kissed her insides. Slowly, without urgency, it glided inside. Nyaarm was small compared to the partners she'd been taking for the past year, frankly. Welcoming her in was too easy.

Nyaarm squeaked. "Did you just...?" She looked back, then grinned. "That's my tail you're twining with, Gwagwa. You slutty little wife, surprising me like that. Take this."

Two points of fire pricked Gwaar's nipples. Finally -- that was the sensation she'd been eager for, the pleasure that sent little shocks of lightness through her body. She arched her back and squeezed, feeling the fullness of the cock inside her. The fire on her nipples returned, and she squeezed again. A mewl came from her strangled throat.

Nyaarm giggled. "I knew that gentle wasn't enough for you, little battlefiend."

Her owner thrust the final bit in, meeting their hips together, her furry pouch tickling the cleft of Gwaar's ass. She leaned in close, and their position raised Gwaar's hips off the ground. The warm heat inside her retreated, then returned. Fire twisted in her chest as Nyaarm pinched her nipples again. She yowled, clenching down. Pleasure or pain? Necessary submission or true desire? Who knew which was which. It didn't matter anymore. She had no more reason to be stoic, and for some reason, that brought a smile.

"I'm sorry, sister," Nyaarm whispered, the sibilant words hissing loudly in her sensitive ears. "I'm not lying, you know. Not about taking care of you, anyway. The rest... Well, it's necessary. You'll understand soon." She giggled. Gwaar shuddered as her owner's hips began to move in earnest, slapping against hers as she fed cock deeper inside her. "Come. Fall for me. Unravel for me. Lose to your better."

A claw poked at her lips, and Gwaar kissed it, lapping her tongue across its smooth heat. She huffed, sucking on it, as the thrusts came more quickly. The object inside her was starting to swell; soon they'd be locked together for good. She hugged her owner closer to her on each thrust with her legs, wanting more and more of the heat that burned at her cheeks.

"That's it. Show them who owns you, little wife."

Nyaarm pressed herself up off the sands, her thin biceps roping with their little mounds of muscle, exposing Gwaar's body to the breeze and the eyes of the arena. Their sisters and seniors were purring as a host, now, the din rising and falling in time with Nyaarm's thrusts. They knew that she would be bred soon. The air and the ground rumbled around her, thrumming in her diaphragm.

Even now, she was an Inanni. She was part of something greater.

At some point Nyaarm had loosened her golden collar, and now Gwaar's pathetic little yips rang out with each thrust, hardly audible above the din. She felt her strength pooling into her crotch, the hot warmth of it pressing tight against the cage. It was the last thing her little dick would ever fuck.

Her hips rose, letting Nyaarm's cock find the spot within her that sent tremors through her toes, helping it melt her from the inside out.

She didn't feel the first jet as it spurted out. She felt the aftermath, as her seed splattered across her chest and cheek. Then the orgasm truly set in, fuzzing her mind to the roar of the crowd and the grinding sand, throbbing as each pulse of pleasure radiated out the spot Nyaarm's cock battered so eagerly. She jerked and writhed on the sand, clenching Nyaarm tight to her as cum jetted from the slit in her cage.

"--wife, little wife, you're hurting me." Nyaarm's voice faded back in first, followed by the sound of Gwaar's own gasping mewls.

Gwaar instinctively clenched down more, digging her claws in further. "Losing control, sister?"

A giggle. "I'm your owner. No. That's perfect. Hold me, little ruin. I'm so close."

She could feel the cock swelling inside her, already several times the size it was before, beginning to truly gape her hole. Gwaar tensed and relaxed as a bottom does, as she knew well how to do by then, pinning Nyaarm's tail to the ground with her own. She felt strangely detached with her orgasm having run its course, despite the heat that still flushed her cheeks.

Questions and frustrations flashed through her mind. She hadn't spent her life training her mind and body just to be a hole. Was this really what Inanna wanted from her? Was this the best use of her skills? She hadn't had time to pass her knowledge on to another generation. It felt unfair.

"A new child of the Inanni will be born today!" cried Nyaarm. Her voice cracked, lilting into a higher register as the crowd cheered. For the first time in a year, she appeared genuinely overwhelmed. Was it the orgasm... or was attention what she had really desired this whole time? Was it so simple?

Gwaar snorted, closing her eyes. Her understanding came too late.

Over and around her, the crowd rumbled in response, and the cock that had claimed her leapt against the confines of her ass. Nyaarm's hips closed with hers and stayed. Small patches of itching heat pricked through her insides -- that was her keeper knotting her, no doubt. The small barbs on her cock were unfurling, latching onto where they'd remain for the next five days as Nyaarm bred her, over and over, and her stomach swelled with the beginnings of a child. Soon...

Nyaarm yipped. Teeth latched into her neck. A ripple passed through Gwaar's insides, depositing molten heat at her core. Her eyes shot open as bliss loosened her body to the world.

The sky burned with sunlight. Her keeper's claws on her sweat-slick stomach latched into her like keys to a door, unlocking her soul. She greeted the colors, the sounds, with a childlike wonder that she'd forgotten she'd lost. They cooed to her like the motherly whispers that she half-remembered before bed, welcoming her with a vibrant embrace. The purring crowd, like fur ruffling across her ears. Nyaarm's little breaths, like the rushing of waves across the shore.

Somewhere in it all, Nyaarm had raised her into her arms. Gwaar's head, swollen with sensations and throbbing with the rhythm of the world, rested on her pale, delicate shoulder. She drank in her owner's heady sweat-and-blood-and-sex-and-childhood scent with deep, lapping strokes of her tongue across that pale neck, drinking in the memories that it lashed across her mind.

The pinprick of a claw stroked a chilled river across her back. "Can you feel the heat twisting your mind already, little wife? That's only my first load. There are so many more to come. You're happy, aren't you?" Her beautiful owner snorted softly. "I wouldn't want you tattling about the things you're going to see, after all. Don't worry. I know how you feel."

Gwaar mewled, nuzzling her nose into her owner's neck. She shuddered through another orgasm, feeling the world throbbing in her fingers and toes.

"The cage, Nyanya," she murmured belatedly. She'd forgotten to beg. "It's so tigh--"

"Ssh." A gentle finger kissed her lips. "It's not a cage, little wife. It's a home. Don't ever mention it again."

"Mmm." Gwaar nodded. Good. She didn't want to pretend for her owner anymore either. She fluttered her pussy's muscles, caressing the love that filled her up. That was all she needed.