When Lord Tsukuyomi first trod this pure earth, aeons ago, He set out to create a haven everlasting. Attended by divine spirits, His will impervious, His people under His wing, our Lord raised from the fragile sands of the Moon’s deserts a kingdom to linger in perpetuity. I was there. Shapeless then – my form and Fate yet undefined. My shames not yet past. But I was there; and I drank of Lord Tsukuyomi’s words as he spoke a new era into being.
It gladdens me to remember this. It helps me to maintain my pace as I walk. It lets me cope with the fact.
The fact that I, Kishin Sagume, am currently wearing no panties.
As I near my destination, deeper in the casern of the Lunar Palace, I begin to pass by rabbits rushing to their morning chores. The females, plump and bright, curtsy at my approach; the males, stern and red-eyed, nod their heads in obeisance. None stop for long. The slave race may possess senses keen beyond our formal recognition, but they daren’t question a Lunar lord – even in their own domicile. I acknowledge, with a nod and a smile, a cluster of rabbits who had visibly slept ill the previous night. They blush when I do so. Yet I see their crumpled ears perk up a little as I stride past. This will tide them over the day. For reasons unfathomable to me, the rabbits seem to value my attention over that of other masters.
Some, perhaps, value it a touch too high. Or would that be too low? I am unsure still when I reach my goal.
One billet among a hundred. No plaque, no individual marks. It shames me to know exactly where I am anyway.
I do not knock. Knocking is for the help. The door slides aside as surely as it would have if I had. It does its own knocking when I shove it closed behind me. The noise of activity outside softens to a murmur. I blink my eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting in the room. The billet is narrow. Narrower than some rabbits would call narrow otherwise. It is enough, just hardly, to fit a strip of floor, a low eating table, a single cot made to fold up into the wall, and a writing desk tucked under the window, opposite the door.
Those, as well as a lone figure slouched in a chair before said desk.
The figure shifts. Their head – topped with a twin pair of haggard, rabbit ears – swivels around to meet me. A set of crimson eyes regards me with a twinkle of recognition. A smirk quirks the male rabbit’s mouth… before its owner realises better.
“Lady Kishin.” His voice drips false innocence. “To what do I owe…?”
I ignore him in turn. Then, rather than the satisfaction of a reply, I give his work a look of appraisal.
The desk is stacked with papers. Towers, towers of the stuff. The slave race keeps its own governance; this has always been known to the Lunar lords. Not undying like their masters are, the rabbits of the Lunar Capital must by need busy themselves with the logistics of maintaining life in a realm which spurns it. The life of a Moon rabbit is therefore harshly regulated by numbers. All produce come of the few pockets of vegetation suffered by the Sages is catalogued and disbursed with careful mathematics; only in the odd year when the stocks are high are the rabbits permitted to let loose and eat with abandon. It is their sole celebration – their only holy-day – in the barren realms of the Moon.
The Sages not acquainted so close with the rabbits’ lives might, then, construe the position of a scribe as honourable among the slave race. The rabbits think differently. To their minds, the scribes’ work is fickleness. Any mistake is seen a threat to the collective’s survival; any number too conservative – a sign of parsimony. To be a scribe as a Moon rabbit is to balance precariously between scorn and resentment. It is not an honour.
It is a punishment.
“… Lady Kishin?”
My awareness glides back to the rabbit male, who has scraped his chair around to face me. I stand there, unspeaking, feeling a surprising flush of guilt under my heart as I note the edge of fear in his expression. It is not a response I hadn’t accounted for. It is, nonetheless, one I didn’t anticipate.
Yet, sense is here. Am I not, after all, the one whose public decrial has tied him to his current thankless position? Am I not the one who, in retaliation for a simple (if daring) prank, has consigned him to work which has damned him in the eyes of his peers? Moon rabbit scribes hire, as a rule, from those too old or too frail for more demanding duties; a young one condemned to the pen and abacus is made all the more suspect. This much is true.
And yet, he did what he did. He did flip my skirt before a bunch of younger rabbits to their – and my – endless embarrassment. I disciplined him. Mere days after, he sneaked up on me in an empty hallway – and cupped my breasts. That time, my blood high, I laid a curse on him. I whispered to Fate he would not forget his lower wear when he woke next morning – and Fate turned over. He caught me alone once more and pulled my skirt – together with my underwear. I caused him to stumble – and to do the same to an elder, female rabbit later that evening. He smacked my butt in a busy hallway. I made him trip and spill water over a girl he was, I thought, trying to impress. He walked in on me bathing. I made the elder from before walk in on him getting overly familiar with the girl. The rabbit government, at last, took note; and my quarry was put to his punitive figure-making.
I imagined it over.
But now, in the latest of our exchanges, he has broken into my chambers… and stolen all of my panties.
Truthfully, he has every right to fear. The Sages have killed for far less. The purity and sanctity of the Lunar lords must remain undisputed. The slave race must know its place.
But I am not a Sage. Not anymore. Not since my own disciplining. And I am not above pity.
And so, I shut my eyes… and open my mouth.
“… Daiki,” I murmur.
Fate twists around my tongue, angry, but unable to change the simple reality of his name.
I say no more. Nor need I. When I look once more, Daiki sits straighter in his chair. My voice, I have noticed – like my nods and smiles – has that effect on the rabbits. Might be since it is, by itself, a rare phenomenon; might be because the voice of any Lunar lord is a blessing to the slave race. I make no guess; I watch, instead, as confidence mounts back behind young Daiki’s eyes.
… And realise, dimly, that I may have missed my aim.
Daiki grins. It isn’t an expression which passes between master and slave. Not customarily. Not here, on the Moon. But we have done worse to each other, and both of us now hold that knowledge like shields before ourselves.
“Well, Lady Kishin?” Daiki asks me. He leans forward slightly in his seat. “However can I serve you today?”
The audacity strikes at my pride. I frown my reprove at the young rabbit. Daiki sticks out his chin bullishly. I cannot help a stab of grudging sympathy. I may be shamed; I may be disgraced. But I am still a Lunar lord. The sheer event of him matching my gaze now, not shying away, spoke volumes of his frustration.
But, I remind myself, he isn’t the victim here. I am. Daiki’s frustration is irrelevant and not my worry; and, when I recall the matter of his “pranks,” I quit apprehension of what I am about to do.
I lean down and gather up the snaking tails of my dress.
Then, I lift them up. Slowly. A tremor squeezes the muscles of my thighs when the fabric of my dress tickles up their skin. I keep pulling, up and up, until my fists are at my stomach, and I am bared up to my waist.
Because I, Kishin Sagume, am currently wearing no panties.
Daiki’s jaw drops, hanging loose. He loses our unspoken staring match, his attention instantly riveted to the picture of my exposed privates. I cannot read his thoughts – but I can see the hammer-blow of lust driving the details into his mind. Confidence flees his eyes, chased out by the sight of a clump of silvery hair above my crotch – and the barest hint of nether lips below.
I smile… and spread my legs somewhat wider.
Daiki’s fingernails dig into the armrests of his chair and his eyes go wild. It is then that I choose to speak again.
“… Daiki,” I whisper.
The young rabbit jumps in his chair. Somehow, he drags his eyes back up to my own. My smile makes him tremble.
“… Panties,” I tell him.
Daiki hesitates. He shifts in his seat: evidently undecided between lying and losing out on the view of my privates, or telling the truth – and losing it even sooner. I hold on my skirt, to keep his resolve wandering. The slave race is simple at their core. Give them food and they shall eat; give them water, and they shall drink, or bathe. Give them music and they shall dance. Show them a bared crotch… and they shall go drooling from lust.
Daiki does not drool. He is more determined than that. He swallows instead, and goes back to ogling my nakedness.
“I… I hid them,” he gives up. “I took them all… and hid them.”
I tilt my head and dangle my dress. “… Where, Daiki?”
The rabbit’s mouth jars open… but then a flash of clarity steals the answer away. He meets my gaze, once more, defiantly.
“Sorry,” he rasps. “Not telling.”
I drop my skirt and turn to leave.
Daiki’s desperation speaks. And I, the benevolent fool that I am, give him one more chance. Daiki has not moved when I twist back around, though desire does visibly muddy his bearing. His chest rises and falls erratically; his lower body also has its own rise – but that one is singular and steady. I try not to look at it. I skew my head at him, again, demanding answers.
“… All—” the young rabbit surrenders, “All, but one pair. I took… one pair… for myself.”
I toss my head the other way, gesturing another question. Where?
A measure of cunning returns to the young rabbit’s mien. He breathes out, laboriously, and points with his chin…
… down at his bulging, straining crotch.
I am shocked. Though I’ve ever understood, on a level below my pretension, that the male rabbits may find me… desirable in that sense, this… This, I have never countenanced. I have never imagined – not in my millennia of sentient existence – that an ultimate member of the slave race would, one morning, rob me of my underwear… only to wear it himself.
I am shocked, appalled, impressed by the brazenness, and brimming to my ears with incredulity. That is why, maybe, I rip across the room to Daiki’s chair, sooner than either one of us can so much as surprise. At least, sooner than I can, I am on my knees between the young rabbit’s powerful legs.
The fashion of male Moon rabbits was no more complex than ease and function. The work-robes favoured by most were simple items – made of muted colours, and cut above the knee for ease of movement. Daiki’s, today, is no different. My fingers grip and fumble with the sash tying the halves of the robe together.
The smell broaches my attention. Ahead, even, than I am done undoing the knot Daiki has made of his belt, the smell of chestnut oil, threaded through with a tinge of animal sweat, laces my irritated breath. This, momentarily, gives me pause. It is morning; the rabbits are but now rising to their chores. Why does Daiki smell as though he has been working?
The answer, such as it is, makes itself plain when I snap the belt out of the robe, swing the halves open…
I freeze a moment – and not because the smell and sight of it make my head feel light. I freeze because I have been wrong. There, whelmed lovingly around the rabbit’s stiff, slightly curving tool is a strip of black, silken cloth.
Daiki, that simpleton, has not been wearing my panties.
He has been having sex with them.
Swallowing – and not knowing why – careful as not to accidentally touch his rabbit cock, I pinch a hold on a corner of my violated underwear. The cloth is drenched. It is soaked, to the point of heaviness, with Daiki’s still-warm sperm. It seeps out between my squeezing fingertips, even issuing an obscene squelch.
I try to pull my poor panties off the rabbit’s erect cock… but find them sticking and clinging to their rapist. So, I try harder. Daiki groans, in both arousal and loss, when I finally slide my underwear free, up over his glans.
It weighs in my hand. Immediately, fat, white ropes of rabbit cum begin to drip down my hand. The black silk glistens wetly in the candlelight.
I do not put them on. Gods, no. I lay them out, across the chair’s armrest – just in front of Daiki’s fingers. Like a piece of laundry to air out. Then, I give the witless rabbit a reproachful look.
“… The rest?” I ask him.
My voice jostles him like smelling salts. Daiki’s lust-addled gaze crashes down to me as his hare brain tiptoes its way through my demand.
Somewhere along it, in a spot where no Lunar lords belongs, the young rabbit notices a goddess planted between his naked thighs. Her silver hair, kept in a braided circlet on the back of her head. The single wing, bunched up at her back to fit inside the narrow room. Her cursed, heathen mouth, hated by Fate – planted tantalisingly close to his hard, cum-plastered cock.
And then, not at all unpredictably, it connects those last two.
Daiki forces a twitchy, uncertain smile as he names his condition.
“… Clean me up,” he wheezes.
My heart rams under my left breast. Still, I am unable to shape an answer – or one that wouldn’t damn us – before Daiki sputters more.
“Clean me up,” he promises. “Clean me up, and I’ll tell you… where I’ve hid the rest. Use your… your mouth… o—or your breasts, or your hands; I don’t care! I can’t take it. You made… You made it like this, Lady Kishin. It’s only… only fair – right? Look!”
I look. Daiki’s penis stands inches before my face. The sperm he has released into my panties dribbles slovenly down his rigid, vein-lined shaft.
Somewhat late, I apprehend that this is much too much for just one… session with my underwear. The… potency of the slave race is known and a point of concern in some sectors of the Lunar throne; only subtle indoctrination and medication prevents it overwhelming the Sages and their progeny through sheer numbers. But unless Daiki, the fool, stole into my chambers at night, during watch hours – rather than the morning – then he must have had one, at most two hours with his prize. How many times did he cum? How many times did he pump his sperm uselessly into my panties – simply because he knew they had once been touching my pussy?
However many, it was not enough. His cock is still up, straining, demanding more.
Or perhaps, I realise with a throb of pity, it is up again – because he was finally shown the pussy about which he had been fantasising for so long.
Either way, it comes around to me. Which is why I feel no shame over what I do next. I take a deep breath of Daiki’s immoral smell. I pucker my mouth. I lift myself up a little on my knees, lean forward… and give the young rabbit’s cock a gentle kiss.
The coat of sperm yields under my touch, and I am treated to the sensation of his raw skin underneath. A ridge runs the underbelly of his manhood, and the skin on either side is studded with minuscule bumps. They tease my lips even though I do not move. The skin is thin, tight and hot. I’ve kissed low – and so the cum sloshing down his cock drips onto my lips. I come away with it stuck all over my mouth.
Daiki groans. I stare into his crazed, ruby eyes and, deliberately, lick the sperm off. I know it drives him even madder – and it is my small revenge. Another exchange. Another tiny jab.
The rabbit’s cum has… not a taste I could easily ascribe. The Sages, even ones as debased as I, have no need of sustenance; eating is, for the most part, treated as an amusement too time- and resource-heavy to indulge for pleasure. The food with which most Sages, including myself, are therefore acquainted the best are the sweets – produced, and occasionally gifted as bribes, by the slave race. This is why I have no comparison to make.
I am undecided if I am thankful for this – that it has no defined flavour – or regretful that it isn’t as good as the sweets, when I give Daiki what he wants… and put my heathen mouth to work – in earnest.
His sturdy cock jumps when I press my tongue flat against the bottom of the shaft. The bumps tickle as I drag it up. The sperm the rabbit boy has released while mating with my panties scoops nicely onto my tongue. His cock does not yield or bend back – not even when I reach half-way up to the tip. It stands firmer than the towers of the Lunar Palace. It is, I allow myself to think, genuinely impressive how hard it is, even now. After all those orgasms it has already had.
Impressive – and not a little arousing.
I travel on, up the relentless cock – until the bumps end and Daiki’s glans is enjoying the touch and pressure of my tongue. Then, so as not to lose the cum I’ve collected, I help myself up by the rabbit’s thighs and wrap my lips flush around his tip. I slurp the cum up into my mouth, and Daiki squirms, grunting, as his dick is given a lewd, sucking kiss.
I do not swallow the rabbit’s sperm. I shift, instead, between his legs, and move on to the right side of his cock. I stick out my heretic tongue, push it against the shaft, and slowly drag it up. The change in angle makes no matter; little Daiki is inflexible. I peel the cum from its entire, immodest length before I repeat the manoeuvre at the top. This time, I do not just kiss his cock; I seal my lips a little below the glans, and let the sperm I’ve held in my mouth pool around it. Then I lap my tongue around the edge. Once. Twice. Three times thrice – until the thighs I’m squished between start bucking.
As I fellate him, I cast up at Daiki’s face.
The young rabbit is in heaven. The apprehension, even the cleverness, are all gone from his face. Instead, Daiki stares back at me with wide-mouthed adoration. Adoration of me. Adoration of the goddess charitable enough to suffer his pranks. A goddess so kind, she forgave his stealing and masturbating with her panties. So liberal, she has no qualms licking his cock clean afterward.
Yet, I am not here to make him cum again. I quit twirling my tongue and focus on gulping down the sperm. But, since I am so charitable, I do it with Daiki still in my mouth.
The cum resists, sticking to my throat, forcing me to swallow again and again. It is annoying – arousing – and, to calm myself, I shove my idle arms between my legs. My pussy is still bare under my skirt. I spread it wide with the fingers of one hand – and start rubbing the other in a circle over my clit.
When the sperm is gone, I pull my mouth off of Daiki’s cock with a moist smack. I stare at it for a few moments, even as I slip two fingers up my already slimy vagina. I imagine the dick doing the same. Not as it is right now: half-cleaned and docile. I imagine it minutes before: filthy from hours of masturbation, covered in warm cum, and yet at the peak of its endurance. I imagine it thrusting into me. Smearing my insides all along with virile bunny cum.
But I am not here to have sex with him. I am not here to give him another orgasm, even. A creature cursed to tell lies such as I am, my heart nurses a special care for honesty and oath-keeping. Daiki has asked that I clean his mess. And I will do just that.
Nothing less and nothing beyond.
None of that keeps me from inventing all lengths of excuses in my head when I move onto the left side of his fantastic cock. None of it keeps me from re-doing my run when the sperm – inadvertently – spills down the side of my tongue. It doesn’t keep me from lapping on his glans and vainly wishing to go all the way down, to show him what it would be like to mate with my mouth – instead of my panties.
I am almost happy when I realise that I may have no choice – but just that. Because, with his cock so stiff, so unbendable, I have no access to its remaining side. The one facing his stupid, adulatory smile.
The smile hitches – but then only grows wider when Daiki sees me adjusting myself to put my head above his eager manhood. His faculties – a degree of them – rise to the fore, and he breathes in to speak. His voice is dreamy when it comes out – distracted. But he speaks.
“… Blow me,” is what he says.
And my pussy quivers around my pumping fingers when I realise I am about to obey.
And I do. I shape my lips into a ring and slide them down around his tip. But, this time, I do not stop. I push down, hugging the bumpy underside of Daiki’s cock with my tongue, down and down, until my nose is buried in his pubes. I shudder with disappointment, shame and arousal – once. Then, I start pulling up – sucking all the way and letting my lips drag along.
When I let the rabbit’s seemingly invincible dick plop out of my mouth, there is not a trace left of the flood of sperm from when I began. I dig my fingers in and out of myself as I admire my work. Daiki’s not-so-little Daiki is standing as tall as it was, but there is no doubt it has now been thoroughly cleaned. The moist traces which still spot it are only my saliva. In my rush, I didn’t swallow the last of his cum; rather, I’ve pushed it down into the jumble of hair on his crotch. But the agreed part – the cock part – is clean. My work is done.
… Or it was.
It was done.
Until, still on my eyes, a bead of clear liquid squeezes out of Daiki’s urethra… and drips down his freshly cleaned shaft.
“Oh, you horny little—”
I check myself as the words fly out of me. But, of course, nothing happens. Fate cannot change what is already true.
Must I? Must I make this pervert cock cum yet again before it quits making a mess? I have but to look at Daiki’s returned smirk – and it returns without shame – to know he will not fulfil his end of the bargain – until I do.
But how? My poor panties had little trouble getting his dick to spurt. My body should do it even easier. But which part? What have I to do to get him off once and for good?
( ) Throat-deep sex with my cursed mouth. ( ) Slippery sex with my lewd breasts. ( ) Taboo sex with my needy pussy. No way.
My stomach flutters from the thought. The floor is rough, sandy. I want to get up from my knees. I want to stimulate Daiki with a flash of my dripping privates as I step over his fanned-out legs. To stand above his immoderate cock and spread myself open. I want to sit down and enjoy the curved tip scraping the front wall of my vagina as I’m penetrated. I want to grind on top of his stubborn dick until my lower mouth is as filthy with thick, white cum as my upper one was minutes earlier. I want to give him a depraved, sloppy blowjob with my pussy.
But I can’t.
The cause is prosaic – and not at all relevant to the risk of him impregnating my pure womb. There is none of that.
Through the same medicinal arts as the rabbits, so the Moon’s nobles (and the Lunar lords by extension) are kept in a condition of sustained infertility, until such a moment they are legally permitted… or ordained… otherwise, by the Sages. Then, and only then, are the Moon’s noblewomen allowed – indeed, enabled – to engage in and enjoy motherhood. My great previous misadventure with offspring has ensured I will never again be entitled to birth new life. I swallow the wonder-pills mixed and stamped by the genius Yagokoro’s successors dutifully – lest I am made to do so under duress. Issue of this, I am as barren as the Moon’s deserts were, before Lord Tsukuyomi’s coming.
Daiki could stuff his dick inside me and have an orgasm after orgasm – until his sperm was leaking down my thighs – and nothing would become of it. The reason, then, that I cannot let him do exactly so is this:
Doing that would be sex. It would be doing for the brash rabbit more than just a clean-up – without his asking.
And that would mean I’ve lost our sport.
So, I cannot. I cannot give in. I can’t fuck his stiff rabbit cock with my velvety pussy. No way.
But, a rogue thought intrudes itself on me… But, if I have to make it spurt one more time to stop it getting dirty – if I have to make him come one way or another, and it isn’t with my forbidden pussy...
Then, a kind of sex should be fine.
The bead of cock-lube trickling down the rabbit’s veiny trunk has stretched out and stuck as I was making up my mind. I bite down on a lip, staring, fingering myself, and address the final of my consternations. What kind of sex? For a bit, I fancy nursing his erection between my breasts. I could open a button or two in my inner dress and stick Daiki’s Daiki up into the hole. I could rest my tits in his lap and see if the upper end of his wonderful cock comes out far enough to suck. All too easy, I picture the beatific look on the rabbit’s face when I undo the dress completely – and show him the sensual, red lace bra I wear underneath.
The problem would be leaving here in any inconspicuous state after he has erupted all over my chest. And while I might, with some care, intercept his orgasm with my mouth… That would have detracted from the experience. For me… as well as him.
But I could let him have sex with my mouth. I have given him a likeness of that already; and Daiki, that oaf, seemed to like it well enough – even if it was only to clean him up. Yes, I may have teased him a little in the course. Yet, that wasn’t the first point. It wasn’t to make him cum. It wasn’t sex.
Now, it is going to be. I am going to invite his cock into my cursed mouth with the sole purpose of giving him an explosive orgasm.
My pussy quivers in distress when I slide my fingers out, free of its drooling grip. They come up coated in my own natural lubricant. I watch it trickle, slowly, down into my palm – half self-conscious and three halves turned on. At the tail of the moment, I shudder out of my aroused confusion. I remember my promise – and shuffle up to Daiki’s messy crotch.
The foolhardy rabbit perks up when I gird the head of his cock with the tips of all five of my fingers. There is a dash of aroused doubt in his starry-eyed expression, but it melts into a clipped sigh as I begin to slide the so-formed hand-pussy down his rigid shaft. My juices ease the motion; and Daiki is soon moaning in delight as his swollen glans mashes against the slimy inside of my palm. An itch between my legs reminds me of what could have been if I hadn’t been so prideful, and I rededicate my free hand to comforting my lonely vagina.
Meanwhile, with Daiki’s manhood still in my grasp, I search it for the trail of pre-cum it sloppily dribbled over itself earlier. I inch closer when I find it – leaning my head and sticking my cursed tongue all the way out. I press the tongue – as much of it as I can – against the stained part of the rabbit’s cock. Then, slowly, I begin to glide it up.
The tiny drop of lube spreads too thin to matter; and now, without his cum smoothing my journey, Daiki’s manhood feels coarse under my tongue. The bumps, now more pronounced, tease me deliciously; and I can feel every puffy vein as I pass it over. I finish the stroke by licking up between the fingers of my hand-pussy, as if I was eating it out. Then, I return to the base of Daiki’s amazing dick for another go.
This time around, however, I peer up at the silly rabbit’s face. I catch – and hold – his misty, blissful gaze. I stare into his ruby eyes even as I lewdly drag my raw tongue up his cock. And then, when my fingers once more get in the way, I lessen my grip just a little… and start wriggling that tongue between his glans and my palm. Daiki grunts his pleased feelings and thrusts his hips out – pushing his dick harder into my hand. My tongue gets trapped between my own skin and his tip. I yank it out, and the rabbit’s cock skids up and out of my hold.
He is visibly and audibly vexed when I take my slick hand-pussy away – glaring and huffing through clinched teeth. He swaps this out for rather something else when, instead, I lock my thumb and index finger in a ring at the root of his cock – and tug. His foreskin peels without a hitch, baring the ridge of his glans and a good inch of pink, sensitive skin below.
I dive my head – and roughly scrape my tongue across that skin.
Not at me – and I grudgingly thank Fate for that; but his legs do kick straight around me, and a somewhat less than manly noise cracks out of the rabbit’s chest. I give him some respite and leave him be for a moment, smiling against my best intents. It is… at once petty and gratifying to get back at his cock after it has teased my pussy so badly without so much as touching it. But, even then, it doesn’t quit. I feel it pulsing in the cock-ring of my fingers, and cannot help but imagine the stripped, swollen head crudely parting my innocent lower lips. The ridge passing through, stretching them even wider. The rest of his brutal cock sinking in effortlessly – until it bottoms out and my overworked labia are wrapped around the base.
But I am proud. I will not give in to a rabbit’s bullying. I am a Lunar lord and a goddess besides.
And I am not about to lose.
The bully rabbit has someway regained his carriage; and though his breath comes and goes in sputters, he is aware enough to brace when I put my mouth back to his cock. But I am not as other Lunar lords are. I do not tease those I command past its welcome. I am benevolent.
Which is why I wet my lips and close them gently around Daiki’s sensitive crest.
I do not suck. I do not bite. I delicately lower my mouth onto the rabbit’s manhood – so delicately, even his recently overstimulated areas only accord me a slight shiver of pleasure from his body. I take in two or three more inches of his dick, then stop as I sense more sticky pre-cum pumping up his trembling length. I let it empty onto the back my tongue and start working my way up. Daiki gives a long, low moan when I pull him almost out. He makes an even longer one as I softly circle my tongue around his cock-head for a while. More transparent lubricant beads out on the tip, and I heartily lap it up – before dropping my mouth again down his shaft.
I cut across the back-and-forth, the ribbing and the foreplay; and I give Daiki the proper, honest oral sex I should have from the start.
The rabbit boy eases into my simulated penetration. His gasping, winded breath syncs with my lips skimming his peeled foreskin. My mouth salivates around his luscious cock, adding to the slippery stuff leaking out of his urethra. After a dozen more strokes, I pull slightly off of him – smile – then open wide. The nasty, gooey soup of pre-cum and drool sloshes down my extended tongue – and pours all over his waiting dick. I gleefully slip my lips back around it and resume the blowjob.
All lubed-up and steadily copulating with my mouth, Daiki relaxes enough that I dare varying things a little. I start applying a touch of suction when I rise. I loosen my lips and snuggle his head between my tongue and the roof of my mouth when I go down. I suck tiny, tickling kisses on the frenulum when I’m up top. I hum tunelessly at a soft vibrato when low. I push myself off of him, and spit the freshly leaked lube to get it spread evenly over his length.
Daiki is drunk on my slow, doting fellatio. I reaffirm that as I peek up at the rabbit’s blissed-out face. I can see his wits knotting and scrambling behind his eyes. I notice his broad, strapping shoulders tense when I clamp my lips under his crown – and tug them up over its sensitive edge.
Daiki notices me noticing. He unbolts his own mouth – small doubt to say something obtuse.
I give him a little frown. “… Sagume,” I mumble around his cock.
The rabbit blinks stupidly – but complies. “Lady… Sagume,” he croaks. “I… I love you.”
The hasty confession clutches my heart.
My common Lunar lords – on those occasions they deign to speak to me – often jibe I am beloved by the slave race. That, after lord Daikoku, my name visits most often in the rabbits’ songs. This, in some measure, I have always known. To be told at first hand is something else. To be told by Daiki… puts his foolhardy, impetuous pranks in another frame. It makes the goddess me want to absolve him.
And, it makes the woman me want to reward him – for having the courage to confess to a Lunar lord.
So, I do. I take his scrumptious, bumpy cock back into my mouth, and do like I have already done once – briefly. Daiki shudders, groaning in delight, as I plunge all the way down his curved tool, until my nose is again buried among his bushy, cum-soaked pubes. But, I do not quit here, this time. I do not pull off of him. No, I push my face, instead, harder into his filthy crotch. The vile, masculine stench of sweat and bunny cum makes me gag – and my pussy shiver. I flick my clit mercilessly under my skirt, even as Daiki’s glans begins to press on the tight, wet opening at the back of my throat. I give it one more frenzied shove…
… And nothing happens.
The rabbit’s fat, meaty cock refuses to pass through. Choking, saliva trickling down my chin, I ram it up again… with no change. Daiki’s impressive manhood is simply too impressive for my snug, virgin throat. We both moan our disappointment at this turn of events, Daiki – into the sperm-scented air of the room, and I – around his slick girth, now leaving my mouth.
I keep masturbating, angry and frustrated, even as Daiki’s piggy dick pops free. The plump, obscene mushroom at the top is almost purple from fatigue. Had the stupid thing not been so fat, it would have been cumming in my throat right now. Instead, it’ll only be getting my cursed mouth. No more mercy left in me, I plop said mouth around the rabbit’s cock and start to pump. Daiki gasps – which, at the end, becomes a muffled squeal. His dick trembles when it slams against the fake cervix at the end of my mouth-pussy – but, somehow, doesn’t cum.
It is difficult to finger myself while bouncing my head up and down the rabbit’s long cock. So, I surrender my own pleasure for the moment. I wrench my hands up from between my legs, hug my arms around Daiki’s manly hips… and double my pace. The hips buck and twist under the frantic oral sex. Daiki gives up all façade of control; he whimpers pathetically as he stumbles right into his climax.
His fantastic, stubborn cock throbs once in my mouth… and, finally, begins to cum.
The first spurt of hot, potent sperm crashes against my pure, unsullied palate. My body’s less dignified instincts rear, and I feel a keen need to recoil; but, by force of will, I hold my lips safely sealed around Daiki’s gushing cock. The second and third squirts are no less powerful. They flood my mouth with unwholesome amounts of sticky, bunny cum.
I hear my own strained moans, not quite realising I’ve let any out. My lips quiver – as well from the effort of the blowjob as that of keeping Daiki’s girthy manhood trapped now. I rally my crumbled self-discipline. A little more, and it’ll be over. A little more, and all I’ll have to do is swallow the cum – and the rabbit’s unruly cock will at last be clean. A little more.
… But, Daiki’s orgasm isn’t ending.
The fool rabbit is still twitching and groaning; and his obscene, animal cock is still spewing shot after shot of semen into my overfilled mouth. Too late, I sense my cheeks distending from the pressure of his continued ejaculation. Too late, I realise that I should have – really should have – begun swallowing long before this point. Another spout of syrupy cum rushes in… and the seal of my lips bursts like an overloaded dam.
Horrified, I sit there in dumb surrender, feeling the amassed semen push under my tired lips and pour down the rabbit’s bumpy shaft. I glide those lips down the still-cumming cock – to collect what has escaped – but all that does is make Daiki moan and gush more sperm into the existing mess. I push myself back up, and find I’ve left the cock dirtier than it was before my attempt.
And so, I give up. I give up, relax my mouth… and let Daiki’s rich, overflowing cum dribble lazily down his veiny length. I go down on him, once or twice more, just to quicken the finish, but abandon all prospects of keeping him clean. At the end of the minute, after his gasps have died down and his climax has tapered off, the rabbit’s crotch is in a greater disarray than it was before I started. And then some.
For, under the coating of fresh, virile cum, his outrageous cock is still hard – and no worse for wear.
The goddess that I am, the Sage that I was, the Lunar lord I fancy myself – I can’t win against this rabbit’s dick. I might lick him clean again, yes. I might strip my dress, and squeeze his cum-stained cock between my breasts until he has another orgasm; yet what would that do but make an even greater mess? With no guarantee of him even going limp afterwards? And, though I would love little more than to tit-fuck the impudent rabbit into a coma, I am not here to have fun. I am here for my panties.
Subtlety has not worked; benevolence has failed me. But I, Kishin Sagume, have one more card to play. One more last-ditch gamble to make.
And so, I pick myself off of my abused knees and rise to my feet. I step over Daiki’s long, muscle-bound legs and shuffle forward – until I am standing astride him, directly above his insatiable cock. I grab my skirt in one hand and lift it up, revealing my damp, slavering pussy. Daiki, the horny fool, has recovered enough from his last orgasm that the sight perks him up slightly taller. I ignore that. Instead, I lift a finger to focus his attention.
I point it at my silken panties, still laid out on the chair’s armrest. I point at Daiki. I point at my mouth, miming speech. I reach down and scoop up some cum from his dirty cock. Then, I spread myself open – and shove the sperm-covered fingers deep inside my vagina.
I pull them out, now clean of sperm, only my juices sticking them together.
The message is uncomplicated. Tell me where the rest of my panties are, and I will let you massage the rest of that cum into the walls of my hungry pussy with your dick.
It is uncomplicated enough that the rabbit’s muddled brain picks out the meaning after only one longer moment. His eyes glide up to mine – then drop down, inevitably, back to my bared pussy.
“… If,” Daiki says, uncertainly, “If I tell you… You’ll…?”
I nod and smile. Something, at last, goes my way with this dunce. Daiki stares at my crotch, as if not quite certain it is real. I show him it is. I spread my pussy wide with both hands – presenting the moist, plush tunnel where his filthy cock could be if he agreed.
Daiki licks his teeth. “… Do I,” he asks, “… Do I get to finish inside?”
Another nod. Another smile. And the rabbit jumps at the lure.
Though, “jump” might be a bit strong; but Daiki does make some kind of resolution as he shakes his head clear of distraction. “… All right,” he rasps. “All right, Lady Sagume. You win. They’re in your dressing chamber. On top of the tallest dresser.” He sees my scowl and gives me a light-hearted chuckle. “Couldn’t figure how to carry them all off without being seen, see,” he explains. “So, I figured otherwise. I hid them. Only took one pair for myself. That pair.”
I follow the thrust of his chin to the poor, black panties he used to masturbate his rapacious cock.
Clever. All in all, I can’t take that away from him. It was, now I’ve been told, all very smart. For, where I would hardly have marked the absence of just one pair, by hiding the rest of my underwear away, Daiki has secured that I was, at least, aware of the prank; by hiding them inside my chambers, he has ensured his own safety from any passer-by’s spying eye. The one set he did steal was, all considered, rather more likely to have been an impulse of his lust, than a bid at our secret sport. And, if I wanted the crucial section of my wardrobe back, I still had to come to him.
Come to him, get bullied, and leave in full knowledge that a Moon rabbit has outsmarted a goddess.
Clever devil, Daiki, I think. But, you see… Goddesses are even cleverer.
“… Very well,” I grant him out loud – and Daiki stiffens at the sound of my voice.
That passes swiftly, especially once the rabbit’s hare brain grasps what I’ve just “very well”-ed. His mouth shapes a slow, victorious smirk. “So, then,” he says. “Now that’s out of the bag. I believe, Lady Sagume, that you’ve promised me something?”
I return his smirk. In profusion. “Yes,” I say to him. “I will have sex with you today.”
Fate turns over. The rabbit’s expression lights up with triumph.
… And then collapses just as quickly – when he realises what I have done. Anguish crushes his brows together in a grimace. The rabbit snaps an oath under his breath – something about the Sages I should never have heard – and, in a madcap, desperate attempt to prove me wrong, he claps his strong, work-tempered hands down on my nude hips. I do not resist. I even hold my pussy open when he forces me down onto his persistent cock. Hope and doubt both vie behind his eyes when my soft labia encase his sperm-coated glans. Daiki, grunting in impatience and arousal, yanks my hips down.
And that is when all four legs of his chair decide to at once neatly fold in half underneath him.
The rabbit falls flat on his butt, yelping his surprise. A millennium and more of selective breeding by the Sages, however, sees that his bearing returns at speed. He recovers – and leaps forward from a sitting position, making a grab at my leg. His aim goes wide. His hand grazes the metal buttons of my shoes – and slices a long, crescent gash in his palm.
I drop my skirt. Daiki drops to the floor – rolling, clutching at his wounded palm and swearing at volume. I, Kishin Sagume, the Moon rabbits’ beloved goddess, wait with unswerving patience until the silly one on the floor quits his trashing. Then, as he comes to a pained rest on his back, I collect my clammy panties from the chair’s ruins, and ready to leave. But, since I am kinder than most Lunar lords, I make it a point to step over Daiki’s head on my way out.
To grant the brash, horny Moon rabbit one final, parting look at what he has been cheated out of.
And then, I exit his billet – not untouched, but victorious, in the end.
As I shut the rabbit’s curses behind the door, the fresh, cool air of the casern’s empty hallway washes around my body. I unfold and stretch my single remaining wing. The confinement it has suffered in Daiki’s narrow quarter – never mind the accompanying events – has upset and rumpled its feathers. Those will need a bath… among other things. Maybe I should have one of the female rabbits preen them afterwards.
More immediately of my problems, I examine the soggy panties I’ve rescued from the clever rabbit’s captivity.
I entertain slipping them on; no one is around anyway, as the slave race has all departed to their tasks around the Capital. But the sensation of cold semen on my skin is none too pleasurable – and so I pocket the panties, instead, inside my jacket. I hope against hope no over-late rabbit passes me by as I track my way back to my chambers in the Palace and takes note of the smell. The smell of the panties, the smell of cum in my mouth, the smell of my juices dripping down my thighs. The smell of rabbit cock all over my hands and face.
The reek of a goddess in rut.
Because I, Kishin Sagume, can keenly smell them myself.
Which is why, perhaps, I pause in my hurry to return to my rooms. Why I swivel around on a heel, back in the direction where my rabbit quarry lives. But it isn’t why I breathe in and speak the words that I do. That thing is something else. It is because I know Daiki isn’t going to let my victory go uncontested. It is because, in spite of our daft rivalry, I do not wish to see him harmed. Not over something so silly – so innoxious.
Or, perhaps, because either way, I would not be able to sleep tonight.
So, I speak the words:
“The Moon rabbit Daiki will not safely slip into my chambers just after midnight tonight.”
I smile as I feel cosmic currents reverse their flow in defiance of my cursed tongue. Fate turns over.
All right, you Gu gourmets. I want to write more porn, and I can’t change my evil ways. So, I won’t. There are 3 lesser- or weller-developed scenarios I’m prepared to dive into dick-first, but since I’ve only one available to me at any and all given times, I’m going to need you to pick one of the bunch.
But, here’s the snag. Before this bit of de-Gu-neracy, I hadn’t written porn for literal years. As in: the three-hundred-odd-days-long, “Jesus, where does the time go,” starts-with-a-bang-and-ends-with-a-birth sort of years. To be short, I have no cock-tickling idea what I’ve done right or what I’ve surely botched in the piece on up. There are also rather few sources of well-written pornography to steal from compare and learn lessons from – at least in my findings – which lends further to the problem.
So, here’s my request. When you vote, put in also a little hint of what you either liked or disliked about the above short. That’ll give me an inkling of what to avoid – or focus more on. I’ve been told, for one, that my use of the word “pussy” is somewhat comical – even distracting – and that another term would have made the… experience less jarring for the teller. It was a bit of very intimate data that I can and have employed to shake the crusty semen off of my porn-cogitator.
So, by all means, give me something to work with. Something you liked, something you didn’t. And, without ado, here are your choices:
( ) A stingy night sparrow gives out a free sample of her meat (with creamy filling) ( ) A spider teaches a younger sister how to play with a male (with a male’s assistance) ( ) A peevish youkai waitress serves a very late night shift (with no supervision)
One of these may contain mild spoilers for an existing story. If you do not know which, likelihood is you won’t even feel the mildness. Vote away!
[x] A peevish youkai waitress serves a very late night shift (with no supervision)
It's hard to put it in any sort of concrete terms, but there was an inconsistency about the "voice" of the short that took me out of things sometimes. I think it was the way the language employed bounced from somewhat vulgar to almost clinical at times. Now, you could argue that it was to some purpose, but I'm not sure I saw it very clearly if that was the case.
In terms of the setup, I loved it. People might disagree, but I personally believe that a great deal of what separates good porn from bad porn is the psychological aspect. The ostensible social better getting off on servicing her inferior makes for a very, very enticing sort of story. I could go on and on about power dynamics and the like, but it would all sound even more pretentious than all this drivel I've already written. In any case, you set the mood well, and that's key.
An odd stylistic choice to be sure, but in OP's defense he did deliver exactly what the vote option said. His vote promised throat-deep sex with her mouth. Which is to say; it only has to reach the throat, not pass it. He never said anything about deep-throat sex. the difference is subtle, but relevant.
That being said, I too wish he proceeded with the deep-throat scene.