In the halls and boudoirs of the Lunar Palace, time is a guest seldom entertained. When these walls were willed to be, an aeon in the past, they were much, then, as they are still this day. Marble floors, as white as the Moon’s lifeless sands; unbroken panes of crystalline walls; milk-glass windows peering out on the eternal Capital… which seems, even now, the same it did when I froze its streets and stifled its air to stave off a calamity. Touches of the impermanent: amenities, chairs and beds, dressers and tables, curtains and rugs, may indeed adorn the Palace and its halls; and yet, underneath it all, the pale, virgin stone stands a metaphor for Lord Tsukuyomi’s vision. An eternity abiding. A time riven from time – to be used, to be filled – yet never spent.
And we, who swathe ourselves in its comforts – yet emulate the lifeless stone beneath.
Among these comforts, I, Kishin Sagume, am awakened softly – in a manner unbefitting of my dreams, wherein I held a bawdy conversation with a daemon of the dreamscape. I tense in my beddings, far from wakefulness, the daemon’s complacent smile slowly bleaching out of my rousing sight. My physical body feels nice and warm; and there is a voice, breathing hushed, gentle words into one of my ears – causing that side of my head to tingle.
“… love you,” it is whispering; “love you so, so much, Lady Sagume.”
I stir – and the voice flees my vicinity, as if startled. My eyes flutter in the pastel light of the city pouring in through the bedside window. I gather myself up to a sit, kneading the remnants of the grinning dream-eater out from under my eyelids. At my side, the voice makes its return: firmer now, stronger, and unrelieved by its earlier affection.
… Or had I merely dreamed that part?
“It is dawning, Lady Sagume,” it tells my half-awake self. “Sixth stroke of the rabbits’ clock. As you wrote.”
You may hear it whispered, in some quarters of the Lunar Throne – the claim alleging Kishin Sagume to be “keeping odd hours.” An argument could, indeed, be raised that any kept hours are odd for such timeless beings as the Lunar Lords – an argument which, inasmuch as sophistry, would not be far wrong. In practice, the reason is by half simpler. For it matters not whether I walk in hours unheeded by my Lords and my peers. What does is that I, the goddess beloved by the slave race, wake in the hours when they may see me and bask in my presence.
I fan a hand in a mute dismissal, even as I peek aside at the owner of the voice which roused me from my nightly recourse. The Moon rabbit Daiki straightens hurriedly – steps back – and bows in respect.
“Something out of the usual today?” he questions the bedraggled me, peering up from under his floppy, animal ears.
I give the rabbit another negatory wave, and watch as he retreats to collect a fresh set of day clothing from my dressers.
So proper. A pair of slacks and a sharp evening shirt could clean up a nastier boy than Daiki; and, the weeks since entering my personal employ – following a certain… incident – have completed that transformation. As loyal and fit a servant as a goddess may find, the crass Moon rabbit these days held himself tall and strait-laced. What damage that was caused to his reputation among the slave race by our inane back-and-forth, it has been patched over by his formal bondage to a Lunar Lord. To me, no less. About the sole tell remaining that Daiki has once nurtured an outcast streak are the two top buttons of his shirt – which, conspicuously, the rabbit boy has left undone. From up on my mound of quilts and satin sheets, I gaze at my young attendant, seeing nothing but a prim – if slightly raw – gentleman.
I can hardly believe, in my morning daze, that it is the same, insatiable brute who leaves his goddess a cum-dripping, panting mess at the close of each night.
I have but to cast my mind back a handful of those oh-so-impure hours to confirm I am not, miraculously, confused. The Daiki now busying round my private chambers, readying my garments, is in fact the same pervert boy who, last night, gave his beloved master an orgasm after eye-rolling orgasm – bullying her pussy with his curved, rabbit dick, until she could no longer stand upright on her own. I recall being laid face-down, atop the same, downy bed I occupy now, my rear propped up and my panties around my knees – while the strapping Moon rabbit probed my hot, yielding depths with his stiff tool. I remember each bumpy inch sliding between my moist labia. In and out, in and out – until I could focus on nothing but the obscene sensation of rabbit cock spreading and filling my vagina. My vivid recollection pauses at Daiki’s first climax: when the young Moon rabbit smacked his hips harshly into mine, pressed the bare tip of his cock to the entrance of my womb, and flooded it with spurt after spurt of thick, virile, bunny cum. Afterwards, once his entire load was safe and comfortable in my belly, he would pull himself out: red, throbbing, yet no softer than a minute before. He would readjust his pose – stretch my pussy open with the fingers one hand – and then shove his cock right in again. As if all the cum inside me had been only foreplay. As if he hadn’t just finished impregnating a Lunar Lord.
It would take two more of his loads before my womb was overfilled; and Daiki’s robust dick would soon enjoy rubbing its own seed into the folds of my pussy as it continued its rapacious assault. And I, Kishin Sagume, would keep quietly coming around its slick girth, gagging myself with my own pillows, and feeling my pussy tremble with each stroke. All because, in my benevolence, I had been fool enough to trust the pervert rabbit with the knowledge of my best, most sensitive spots. And Daiki’s wonderful, bunny cock homed in on them every time.
Never ahead these days have I dared put stock in the hearsay that some Lunar nobles are wont to take their servants into their beds. Yet now I’ve tasted of this forbidden bliss, and seen what the slave race has been bred to become across the uncounted millennia… I nurse little doubt in my cursed heart that I should find it in me to go back. To forfeit a lover whom you may fuck – or get fucked by – whole night long, who will ill presume to complain, who shall never impregnate you (or get pregnant themselves), nor tell what debauched things you have ordered them to do… It truly is a small wonder so many young slaves are called again and again to attend on (or, I am guessing, underneath) their masters in their bedchambers. The Moon rabbits are perfect, obedient sex toys. Some go so far, even, as to covertly relish mating with the immaculate, Lunarian race. My dear Daiki, for a fine example.
The less fine quirk of our relationship is that I am his sex toy as much as he is mine.
While Daiki hasn’t had two moments of indiscretion since becoming my manservant in work-hours, once my obligations to his slave kin are but satisfied, and we are but again in my private rooms – then, the horny fool isn’t above displaying the bulge in his trousers and coaxing me openly for service or sex. I have lost count of instances wherein I would shake my head and give him “just a quick blowjob, Lady Sagume, please!” – only for it to end up a full hour of oral sex, jerking him off with my feet, and followed by a soapy, “clean-up” titfuck in the adjoined bathroom. And I, his beloved goddess, have failed to decline every single time.
There are days I feel a fool myself for having permitted a member of the slave race to lay his hands and play pranks on me. There are nights when I acknowledge it inside it was all for we were both secret perverts, craving each other’s attention. And then, there are those days when I wish for nothing more than to throw my brazen slave on my bed, strip him down, and abuse his shameless, rabbit cock until he understands how lucky he is.
This, I realise when Daiki hands me a stack of clothes with a pair of black, silky panties prominently atop… is one of those days.
( ) Give him an under-shirt, morning titjob. ( ) Calmly dress and remember how sweet he was when he first fucked me.
(X) Calmly dress and remember how sweet he was when he first fucked me.
Unlike him, I am, however, not a slave. Neither to myself… nor to my wants. I retrieve my clothes from Daiki’s work-stained hands, giving up in return a look of weak exasperation. He has mischief in his ruby eyes, smiling as he sees that the trick has caught. I wipe it from his face – with nothing more to rub than a nod toward my bedchamber’s door.
Out, I mouth at him – feeling Fate stir in response, much as I did minutes earlier. Unlike me, it remains sweetly dreaming.
Daiki’s expression tweaks into that of a boy denied his sweets. He reminds me, all the same, why I keep him in day-time as well as for night-service – by sketching a hasty bow and stalking out of my bedroom. I know that, when the door is closed behind him, it will not close fully. I know that Daiki is a battle-scarred voyeur, and that peeping on his goddess disrobing sits well within his expertise.
I do not care. I turn my back on the door, and begin plucking the buttons of another of Daiki’s voluminous shirts, which I have taken to wear to bed in recency. It slides down from my shoulders to hang on my remaining wing by the slit I had its original owner cut and hem in the back to accept my last divine accoutrement. I allow myself a single second thought as I pull the shirt past the first feathers and feel them tugging at my skin. An additional pair of hands, I have experienced, makes my unique anatomy much easier to tiptoe around. That, or dispensing with clothing altogether… which I have also done on occasion.
Daiki’s shirt sails to the floor… and I unfold my single wing to its full, majestic span, my nude body bathed in the pallid light of the city outside.
It is at once liberating, tantalising and subtly painful to be able to do this. Liberating – because nowhere else in the Palace would it have been seemly of me to flaunt my trappings. Tantalising – because I know my horny servant is watching through the gap in the doorway; and painful… because it is a reminder that I shall never again show the Moon (or him) my untouched beauty. Managing what remnants of it there are, however, was among the chiefest of excuses I gave the rabbit officialdom – as well as to myself – for transferring Daiki into my personal service. No eyebrows were raised when I carried my written demand to the bureaus in the Palace casern; I had, after all, commandeered their services before. Neither are my hardships anything except overt.
There were… discouraging looks when I named the specific rabbit I wanted, yes. Anyway nothing that my smile could not smooth over. I am, despite everything, adored by the slave race.
I remember this, because the panties that Daiki has picked for me this morning are the same pair which touched off our taboo romance. It is the same pair the rabbit boy kidnapped from my chambers to relieve his lust into, and for which I was later forced to bargain with their stealer. The puny strip of cloth for which I was made to put my cursed mouth around the rabbit’s stiff, cum-plastered cock, and lick it clean. Centuries of chastity were cut short in a gleeful instant when I knelt between his legs and dragged my bedevilled tongue up his excited, throbbing length.
And I loved it. Daiki’s animal smell, his helpless moans – the long-repressed desire spilling over, making me fantasise about straddling the rabbit boy and shaking my hips like a doe in heat until I was pregnant with his child… I loved every moment of it. Almost better that I hadn’t spoken to Fate. Almost better that Daiki had plunged his cock into me right then and ruined my millennium of celibacy. I would have loved nothing more.
It signals my sheer pride, I imagine, that I spoke anyway.
That very same pride – I recall as I lay my clothing out on the bed – never reined me in short of sitting down to pen a dispatch to the Moon rabbit government no later than I returned to my rooms. It did not stop me from delivering my missive – by hand – as soon as I was certain the phrasing was innocuous enough. It did a little to contain my giddy anticipation for the moment when the rabbits’ clock struck midnight, and the Fate I’d spoken against would take hold… but only so much. All throughout the remainder of that day I craved to be done with my divine frivolities – even if there was a point behind them – and to be again in my bedchamber, comforting my lonely pussy until the brash Moon rabbit arrived to fill it with the thick, warm cock it yearned for.
After I had at last torn myself from my self-imposed duties, I hadn’t two steps past my chamber door before my skirt was off and on the floor. My filthy, filthy daydreams hadn’t left my underwear unspoiled; and the thin, white fabric of my replacement panties was so drenched in my seeping arousal, I could see the outline of my pussy clearly from the outside. Any Moon rabbit I had passed on my way back, I realised, would have enjoyed a nice whiff of what a goddess smelled like when in heat. That some really might have only fed into my rampant lust.
My pussy proved so wet and so ready, it swallowed two of my longest fingers up to their roots with hungry ease. I was masturbating before even I reached my bed. I collapsed onto my beddings, stroking my hand over my clitoris in frantic circles, moaning through my teeth, reliving in my mind the sight, texture and taste of the rabbit boy’s penis. I remembered his stiffness pressing back against my tongue. I remembered the adoration behind his eyes while I sucked on his vulnerable glans. I recalled the delicious moment of panic when Daiki had begun to come inside my mouth. I fantasised all over again about climbing up to poise myself over his dirty crotch. About my pussy imbibing his warm cum when I’d stuck some of it inside me. And then, the lip-biting anticipation when he’d pushed my hips down to mount me on his freshly milked, yet unrelenting cock.
I may never tell – nor would, even if I could – how long I’d lain there, flicking my button and fingering myself to the memory of my disgrace. What I can tell is that the sound of footfalls outside my rooms hooked my wandering attention and angled me bolt upright. In what ranked among the most undignified moments of my existence, I scrambled for my cast-off skirt – tied it hastily about my waist – and planted my sweaty, dishevelled self in the chair standing by at my writing desk. I schooled my breath – sweeping the ruffled hair back from my eyes – and listened, even as the door of my most private of chambers was cracked ajar behind me.
There was a surreptitious pause. A hesitant delay. A step. And then a click – when the door was pushed shut.
Someplace in the Lunar Palace, within the rabbits’ casern, a clock’s shorter hand was sliding under the topmost notch.
Midnight – however it was on the Moon – had ticked by. Fate had turned over… and brought Daiki safely into my clutches.
Maybe, though, not so safely – which I found no sooner than I craned my head to peek sidelong at my nightly guest. The Moon rabbit Daiki was flushed and winded, standing before the shut door, as if he’d barely escaped with his life from some hare-eating predator. Or, a part of me less inclined to romance supplied, only the night patrols. Confusion was worn plainly on his cute face. As though bold Daiki hadn’t quite thought through what to do once inside his goddess’s home. He had a trace of panic in his ruby eyes.
And yet, he still sneered when he met and caught my carefully placid stare.
“Good… Good evening, Lady Kishin,” he said, sketching a mock bow, the quaver in his voice betraying his true emotions. “I’ve done it now, haven’t I? Lord Tsukuyomi alone knows where I took the wrong turn. My apologies. I’ll… I’ll remove myself now, and we can forget—”
I brought his sputtering up short by tossing a sheaf of dog-eared papers over my shoulder. It flew to land on the floor at Daiki’s retreating feet. The young Moon rabbit frowned down at the print-choked pages… until his eyes caught on the seal of the rabbit officialdom in a bottom corner. Daiki, ever quick on the pick-up, faithfully picked up the documents. His frown shrank together with his fear. Unlike, I imagined, his new-born incredulity.
For there, in his quaking hands, was the sanction for permitting Daiki, the punished slave, the honour of servitude to the Moon’s beloved, one-winged goddess.
Although, I, Kishin Sagume, the goddess in question, waited not for my new servant to finish walking his hare brain through page upon page of bureaucratic tautology. While Daiki read on with furrowed brows, I slipped my hands under my skirt, and then began to slowly pull my panties down my legs. I leaned down, as furtive as I might, and tugged the soaked underwear past my lacquered, high-heel shoes. My skirt went next; I uncased it, then laid it beside the panties on the desktop. Naked from my waist down but for said shoes, I pushed my chair out and stood up. Daiki, the dear fool, remained oblivious even then – his undivided focus on the fateful paperwork which would bless or damn him. He did not as much as peek up at me as I shimmied up to seat myself atop the desk.
My heart throbbed reluctantly under my left breast. My legs trembled with giddiness as I spread them at my cute, future sex slave. My damp, sensitive pussy shuddered under my own touch when I reached down to stretch it open, already impatient for its prize. My pose, I found in that moment, was less than optimal for full, unobstructed exposure; so, I tucked one of my legs up onto the desk beside me, bent at the knee – my sensual footwear gleaming in the room’s pale light. I reached around my thigh, and pressed my fingertips down at either side of my quivering pussy. Then, I spread its swollen lips as far out as I could force them.
Cool air stroked my wet, exposed walls. I felt them shudder and contract all on their own accord – as if to let me know they would much rather clamp down on something stiff and warm and able to rub and kiss them all the way inside. Aroused beyond care, I extended an index finger to resume teasing my clitoris – all the while keeping my pink pussy walls on full display for when the rabbit boy at last deigned to claim them.
A world of exasperation had managed to run through my mind before Daiki finished reading through his new job proposal. The file sagged in his hands, even as his bunny ears perked with cunning atop his head.
“And what’s in it for me,” he began to ask, “if I put my blood on—”
And that was when his eyes beheld the answer. Daiki was, I knew, by no means a wolf in rabbit skin; and there was a sudden bite in his jaw of a boy who had seen altogether few pussies up to that point in his life – let alone a spread, dripping one, set between a goddess’s slim, immaculate thighs. The life-changing documents spilled from his loosening grip – drifting onto the floor in a disordered rain. The Moon rabbit’s hands squeezed into tight fists; and the front of his plain robe poked out in the onset of a slow, but very obvious hard-on. Daiki’s jaw hung slack as he gawped at my glistening, inviting pussy.
And yet, he made no move. He did not leap at me to fuck me like the horny, willing female I was making myself out to be. A corner had been chipped away from the trust we had built in the course of our secret games. I myself had cut it – no less recent than this morning, when I had deprived the horny Moon rabbit of the chance to bury his insatiable dick inside his goddess then and there. And then, of course, was the matter of my curse not being one to defy lightly. I realised this. Daiki was indeed correct in fearing the repercussions… yet also incorrect in assuming there would be any. For the words I had said to Fate had been scrupulously choreographed. After all, I had said, “I will have sex with you today.”
And today, such as it were on the Moon, had already been past for several minutes.
Whether he had at last figured out that particularity, or the sight of my agape vagina had won out over fear, Daiki hauled his dumbstruck mouth shut – and stepped forward. Without fail, his hands snapped to his waist, to the same sash I had struggled to untie in the morning, and all but ripped the knot undone. The Moon rabbit whipped the halves of his work-robe aside… and his long, curved manhood burst forth in all its brutish glory.
Seeing the beastly thing bob closer and closer to my pussy as my slave unsteadily approached set my heart to pounding. A flock of silly, doe questions flittered through my mind. Would it fit? Could I take it all inside me? Would I, really? Would I, who fancied myself a Lunar Lord, stoop to let a member of the slave race copulate with me? Would I permit this fool Moon rabbit, with his cock that could cum and cum and hardly tire, to sully my divine womb with his impure seed?
I had but to hear Daiki’s hands smack down on the desktop on either side of me to know the answer was an incorrigible: “Yes, please!”
My cute slave wore a wild expression on his face. Scarce less wild was the smell of his body, now leaning against my upraised leg: animal sweat and pheromones, mingling with the lewd odour of my own. The obscene mixture made me recall, with vicious longing, our morning rendezvous. Those delicious pangs of immorality when his hard cock had been crammed up to its root in my mouth, and my nose had been stuffed among his cum-stained pubes. I remembered the heady scent of my slave’s raw manhood… and had to hold back a sudden desire to slide down from the desk, get on my knees, and sniff his stiff erection all over.
Another day, I promised myself. And, I may attest from my future perspective, that promise would be kept. That night, I had other debauched things coming to me (and in me) either way.
And I was reminded of so much when I felt Daiki rest the head of his engorged cock on the spread entrance of my pussy.
I sensed a wobbly smile work past my arousal. Straight for the sex. No foreplay. No licking me clean as I had licked him. No warming me up with his fingers. Nothing I shouldn’t have expected from one of the base beasts which the Moon rabbits were when off their leash… yet, there was a tiny clench of disappointment at Daiki not wanting to toy with my divine body some more. No matter, I calmed myself. No matter. There would yet be time for me to teach him how to play with a woman’s body. And I would. I would educate my slave on how to do it very well – until he could finger me under my panties from behind in the middle of an assembly with no one the wiser.
With a nervous exhalation, Daiki pressed down and pushed forward with his hips – making the tip of his cock sink between my soft pussy walls. Tingly from my chest to my toes, I released my outstretched labia to let them hug Daiki’s glans all around, much as they had done once, already – briefly – earlier in the day. They peeled back his foreskin as the rabbit boy thrust deeper in – leaving his sensitive crown at the mercy of my slippery folds. Daiki’s hips juddered with pleasure… and he let fly an unmanly gasp as his next, clumsy push smoothly buried his cock to half-length. I gasped together with him when I felt it reach a depth that my fingers never could – touching and rubbing up against places that hadn’t been touched in a thousand lonely years.
I stifled a moan under one hand, watching as more and more of him entered me down below. Slowly, slowly, my tight, quivering pussy was crammed full of the rabbit’s sizeable manhood. We looked on – I think, both equally mesmerised – how the final inch of it slid in, and the whole thing bottomed out with my frilly labia wrapped around its hairy base. Then and there, a goddess and her slave shared a content sigh. He – into the sex-scented air of the room, with the head of his animal cock pressed to the entrance of my pure womb, and I – with a palm over my mouth, and doing my hardest to make my thighs quit trembling. Daiki peered up at my desperate, blushing face… or (I placated myself) the half of it which he could see above my hand. I joined my bleary gaze to his – the act somehow reminding me all the more keenly that we were now having full-on, unprotected, master and slave sex.
Daiki wrung out a weak smile – rueful and gratified all at once. “… If I have to croak after this, Lady Sagume,” he told me weakly, “it’ll have been so, so worth it.”
My heart squeezed at the rabbit’s words – and not in the least because I was unaccustomed to complimentary ones.
Simpler than that, I pitied my dear Daiki. It was telling that, even now – even with his hips shoved up against mine and my pussy wrapped lovingly around his dick – he was still quietly apprehending trickery. That, even if I’d been the one who’d spread myself for him – not the other way– he was still, very much, the subservient party. It was Daiki, not me, on whom lay the burden of performing to the other person’s satisfaction. And it was he, not I, who would suffer the gravest of consequences were I but to change my mind or take offence at anything he did to me without my leave. That creeping, warning thought, I saw now, had never fled Daiki’s rabbit mind.
And my silly, benevolent heart bled to know this. I wanted to console him. I wanted to cup the poor bunny’s cheek and ensure him nothing bad would happen. To put my arms around him and whisper encouraging words into his flushed ear – until his pent-up frustration was pumped inside my waiting baby room. Might be, and I would have done something to a close, though less risky, effect. Might be – if only the sensation of Daiki’s stiffness under my bellybutton hadn’t been driving my horny self absolutely wild.
In the absence of any reply but for my ragged breathing and pitying stare, Daiki looked back down to where our genitals were locked in a wet, intimate embrace. I sensed the thick, long tool start to slide back when my despondent slave began retracting his hips. Not keen on missing out on what he feared would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Daiki, the seasoned masturbator, ringed the fingers of one hand around the bottom of his dick – keeping the skin sheath tucked back and his glans free to enjoy the creases of my pussy’s walls. I felt its wide ridge catch on and scoop out my velvety folds; I felt the folds themselves stick and cling to every inch of his departing length. I watched the oblong bulge, which his manhood had raised in my belly, flatten in the wake of his slow retreat. At last, Daiki’s handsome tool popped out to stand at rigid attention between our nude groins – yet not before a long, parting smooch from my gripping pussy lips.
We began to breathe again – either one of us just as surprised as the other that we had forgotten to do so altogether. And then, in a similar, dumb concert, we turned our flushed gazes down to appreciate the aftermath of Daiki’s first time inside my vagina.
The results left little to imagination. A string of viscous, milky lubricant still joined the tip of Daiki’s sturdy erection to my slit, brooking no question as to where it had been inserted moments before. More evidence yet was dribbling down the underside of his bumpy shaft: a wealth of warm, gooey love juice – a boon from a goddess who had just gotten her first real sex in over a millennium. A tangible proof that I, Kishin Sagume – a Lunar Lord and once-Sage – was at my base just as filthy an animal as the Moon rabbit slave who had surprise-groped my breasts and masturbated with my stolen panties.
Daiki, the more experienced pervert, stumbled out first from our mutual distraction. Grasping his stiff, upright manhood, my shameless slave pushed it down, angling it so that its stripped head parted my labia and sank a little into my unresisting pussy. My lower mouth strove to outdo my upper one from the morning: closing all around the rabbit’s bare glans and coddling it with minuscule, undulating movements. Daiki gritted his teeth and moaned at the lewd massage.
The sound of his aroused voice ripped through the remainder of my patience. Unconcerned for modesty or shame, I twisted my hips around: positioning them in such a way that the rabbit’s next, inevitable thrust would scrape his hard tool all along the best spots in my vagina. In time, I would train Daiki to aim for these on his own – mostly by guiding his fingers inside me and, quite literally, pointing them out for his information – yet, that night, I had no one to rely on but myself.
Thankfully, myself knew precisely where and how she wanted the rabbit boy’s stiff cock. I tucked both of my legs up onto the desk, and fanned my knees wide out – presenting my naked crotch and the damp patch of silver pubes above. I squeezed my free hand around the edge of the desk and wrapped my wing around the side, jittery with anticipation. I wanted it. I wanted my horny slave’s cock. I wanted it to quit playing with my entrance and start knocking at my womb again. I wanted sex.
… I got none. Not, at least, as yet. For Daiki, having screwed up his hare faculties, would peer up at my half-covered face with questions hovering around his lips. Oh, how I hated those lips right then. I hated them so much, I considered smothering them brutally under mine.
At length, Daiki found the courage to speak. “… Lady Sagume?”
I gave my rabbit slave a scorching – but permissive – look.
Daiki acknowledged my consent with a grunt. “Then,” he said, “is our morning promise still… um, in effect?”
I tipped my head, mutely frowning my incomprehension.
“We’re,” explained Daiki, “going to have sex now. Yes, Lady Sagume?”
I gave him a frantic nod.
“No pranks? No Fate-stuff?”
And once more.
“And I can come inside you?”
Nearly, and I would have screamed, “Yes! Yes, you imbecile! Knock me up!” Only hundreds of years of self-restriction held my cursed tongue in check. Instead, I spent the next few pounding heartbeats picking out my words.
And then, I spoke.
“… Want to?” I asked the rabbit boy, quietly.
Something beyond the room, beyond the Moon, beyond the ken of even my senses, roused at the syllables leaving my star-crossed mouth.
Fate regarded the words I had spoken… and then, deciding them too vague to contradict, released me from its hateful gaze.
Someone very much within the room stiffened at the same. My slave’s ruby eyes widened with fright. Then, expectedly, with a measure of reverence… despite the tip of his cock still digging into and teasing my pussy. Daiki sucked in a mouthful of air – only to then release it in an explosion of honesty.
“Fuck, yes— Yes, I want to!” he blurted out, nearly whined, eyes sparkling. “Your mouth was amazing, Lady Sagume, but I want to feel… I want to come inside you down there, too. A—And, if I can, I’d like to do it with your breasts. And then, if you aren’t tired, with your hands. I—I really, just kind of… I want to touch you all over, Lady Sagume.”
There were few confessions I could have wished to hear more. And that had been almost as good as the one I’d received while sucking the rabbit boy off in his billet.
All the more tragic that I could not tell Daiki to just fuck me already. That I had to settle for the next most perverse thing. To nudge my waist forward and start screwing myself onto him on my own. My pussy walls quivered at Daiki’s returned touch, clamping down tight around his hot, veiny girth. I was down a third of his length when wit dawned at last behind the rabbit boy’s eyes, and he married his efforts to mine – thrusting with his own hips, and groaning at the sensation of my slick folds gliding past his cock-head. Our pushes met midway, when Daiki’s furry crotch came to rest against my well-groomed mound, and the tip of his dick was enjoying another lewd kiss with my cervix.
I may hardly brace myself for it before I was once again crammed full of Daiki’s thick, virile manhood. My poor, unpractised pussy trembled all around him – my every heated breath causing the fantastic cock to poke and stretch me in a new, slightly different way. I tipped my head back and moaned into my hand. My dear Daiki was not about to let me grow bored of simply holding him inside me. Setting his jaw, the rabbit boy began to slowly pull his fat cock out – every inch a struggle against my tight, clinging vagina. His curved shaft was pulsing by the time his glans poked out from between my labia, shiny from the juices it had scraped out of my eager depths. I imagined – very briefly – what it would feel like to glide my upper lips down that slippery rod. The mental image alone made my mouth salivate.
I did not get to live out – or indulge at any length – the vain wish to give my slave another sloppy blowjob. For Daiki picked my moment of inattention to steady himself by the desk on which we were fucking. Moreover, he then used that extra purchase to roughly slam his hips forward in a savage thrust: spearing my divine pussy on his animal dick, from lips to womb, in one, sadistic plunge. It was all I could do to cry out in shock (and wicked pleasure) when I felt his hips crash into my butt and the head of his cock ram into my waiting cervix. It was all I could do to make the cry wordless… rather than a ruttish, high-pitched “Yesss!”
“… Lady Sagume?”
I blinked back the delightful, thick blanket that had descended on my thoughts, to find my fellow pervert Daiki staring up at my half-covered face with his bunny ears up straight with concern.
No. Not concern, I realised the next moment. It was fright. It was fright that he had strained my hospitality too far by pounding his cock into my pussy as if it were an unfeeling fuck-toy. I saw his ruby eyes flutter wide with dismay when he met my own, tear-eyed gaze… and I felt a pang of guilt for allowing surprise to get the better of me.
“Um, that—” stuttered Daiki, “that hurt, didn’t it? I—I’m sorry, Lady Sagume. I only wanted… Y—You felt so nice and soft down there, so I wanted to see what it would be like to… W—We can still have sex, right? I’ll be gentler; I’ll do it like this, so…”
Sooner than I may give him the leave, Daiki took it for himself: withdrawing his hips and softly extracting his tool from my warm vagina. Two-thirds of his robust length out, and the rabbit boy paused… before, very gently, pushing himself back into me. I felt his cock-head merely graze the spots that wanted to be prodded and scraped over and over, and moaned my helpless exasperation. Daiki mistook the tone of my voice altogether. He pressed his glans up against my womb for a quick, fond kiss – then slid it out again for another long, tantalising trip.
Three slow, drawn-out thrusts later, and Daiki scrounged up the courage to speak.
“This… This is good. Isn’t it, Lady Sagume?” He swallowed. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
He underlined the questions with another long haul all the way up to my womb; and I directed up a glare to challenge his contrite, hopeful expression, saying nothing. I had half a mind… no, a full mind to grope beside me for a sheet of paper and a pen to write out my thoughts on the matter. To order the daft Moon rabbit to do what he had already dared do once, and fuck me like a whore already. To punish my greedy pussy with his fat cock until it was a trembling, cumming, semen-dripping mess. Only, the inherent threat of losing out on said cock while I searched my desk for the necessary implements glued my neglected, needy self in place.
And so I sat there, feet tucked up beside my butt, thighs shivering, while my Moon rabbit slave gave me the slow, womb-deep massage I desperately needed… but didn’t want.
I had time, across the minutes of gentle, tender mating which ensued, to appreciate it was not entirely flimsy titillation. Where I had thought I could never cum at such a weak pace, Daiki’s sustained, implacable rubbing was poised to dispute my initial complaints. The unremitting eye contact I had kept with the rabbit boy was cut off when I grazed my misty gaze down the opening in his robe to inspect the state of affairs below. Affairs, which proved steady and unchanged. My overworked labia were still clinging and sticking to Daiki’s curved tool on every sluggish back-stroke… though, nowhere so tightly as they had nearer our first insertion. Ten minutes with a Moon rabbit’s impure cock had manged to loosen my celibate pussy enough for smooth, natural sex.
As though he had caught the fascination behind my eyes, Daiki demonstrated how easy it was for his cock to go from kneading my pussy lips to having them wrapped wetly around its root. The bulge in my stomach come from accommodating his girth, too, continued to rise and fall with each of his jaunts up and down my hugging pussy walls. I exhaled, sharply, every time the rabbit’s plump glans thumped into my cervix – each such poke a tiny jolt of pleasure that rocked my hips and made my voice escape in a strangled moan.
And it was then, as I was coming to grips with the idea that there were perks to relaxed, moderate sex as well, that I was made to bear a second nasty surprise of the night.
My dear Daiki, who had been reliably making my pussy shiver and myself moan for several, wonderful minutes, then all of a sudden looked up and bore his ruby eyes into mine. A handful of whimpered words fled his mouth… none of which I could decipher over the roar of a nearing orgasm between my ears. The fool Moon rabbit must have taken my laboured breathing for a yes – because he drew back his waist as far as he could, precluding his dick popping out…
… And then, slammed it back inside my overstimulated pussy – all the way down to his hairy groin – with enough force to jog my butt two or three inches backwards on the desktop.
Almost, and I would have come right then.
Almost, and I’d have had my first orgasm from genuine sex in over a millennium.
Almost, and my horny slave would have seen what it was like to have a goddess cum while she was still mounted on his cock. All I needed was one more push – one more rough kiss from Daiki’s wonderful, manly tool.
… It was a push I was, manifestly, not getting. Not at first. Not at second. Nor at any close following time. I had to shake off the near-orgasm haze – which I did with difficulty – to find out why that was.
And why was writ large in Daiki’s fierce, intense expression. That, and the way he hugged one of my legs in order to keep my hips pressed tight against his own.
My fool of a slave would not be giving me my long-anticipated orgasm… because his cock was rather occupied with spewing shot after shot of hot, potent cum into my pure womb.
Alarm, apprehension and deep, overpowering pride descended on my mind all in equal measure. I was being impregnated. I was making a child with a member of the slave race. That I had swallowed my sterilising pills every morning for the last thousand years barely registered beside the deep, taboo satisfaction of having the rabbit boy plant his seed inside me. I bit down on a finger, and fancied I could sense the cum pumping up his throbbing length. I imagined I could feel it being squirted forcefully through my cervix and up into my snug baby room.
My cursed, upper mouth had known the sort of copious, rich ejaculations that Daiki’s cock was capable of. Now, my frustrated, restless pussy was forced to endure the same, delicious torture. I held on, nipping on a sacrificial thumb – all the while Daiki unloaded the cum he had saved up throughout the day (little doubt fantasising about this very event) into his goddess’s – my – obliging womb.
A full, sweaty, groaning minute was needed for my pussy to milk his animal cock dry. Another still ground by before the Moon rabbit deigned to extract his spent manhood from my sticky depths. There was not a trace of sperm anywhere along his swollen, unflagging erection once it at last popped free. My tingly, unsatisfied vagina had taken all he’d had to offer… and craved more still. More. Three, five times more. Until my thighs chafed. Until my womb was so full, his sperm would have nowhere to go but down my legs. Until the rabbit boy gave me the orgasm he’d had the gall to deny me – and then six or seven more in balance. Until he understood what it meant to be a Lunar Lord’s – Kishin Sagume’s – sex slave.
I tore my gaze from Daiki’s selfish cock to peer up at his dummy face. He ventured to give me a coy smile.
And that, to paraphrase, was the straw that broke the heron’s grace.
I do up the topmost button of my jacket and tug down the rune-embroidered sleeves. I do not wish to review the remainder of that night. How I kicked the feet out from beneath my rabbit slave, toppling him to the floor. How I straddled his hips without pity for his little friend’s sensitive state. I would sooner not remember bouncing up and down on him at a wild, mindless tempo – racing for the orgasm after which I had lusted since my first taste of Daiki’s leporine cock. The thrill of domination from staring into his wide, ruby eyes, while I used him like a living sex toy. My shirt’s buttons coming loose and unveiling my swinging bust. My slave reaching up to flick open my bra with astounding skill – causing my breasts to fall out and dangle over his entranced face. My speeding up the pace in revenge. The shameful sound of my butt-cheeks smacking his thighs on every abrupt descent. And then, the obscene squelching of our genitals when Daiki’s earlier ejaculation began to leak out and do us the office of added lubricant.
I will not recall my first orgasm atop the rabbit boy’s cock – for the simple reason I cannot. A millennium of chastity had done nothing to prepare me for the tidal wave of bliss from having real sex again. Once I had reached my peak and started to cum, the ashen deserts of the Moon may well have ceased existing altogether. I cannot say how long I’d slouched on top of my handsome slave, quaking and twitching in my orgasmic throes. Only that I hoped – in some far-off, detached part of myself – that I would not let slip any rash words while off in my little, ecstasy-filled world.
When at length I regained faculty over my delirious senses, it was to the sight of Daiki’s ruddy face half-swamped under my drooping bust. The rabbit boy boldly cupped and lifted my right breast from his chin. And then, he asked me the question I, for a change, hadn’t at all needed – yet wanted to hear.
“… Again, Lady Sagume?”
I felt a tingle, down below my bellybutton, which told me in no ambivalent way I was absolutely ready – and willing – to go again. Therefore, I granted my brash slave a magnanimous nod… that I realised, all too late, had been as regal as it had been unnecessary. My sweat-sheened, fidgeting, sex-starved body was giving its own consent.
For the hours in consequence, Daiki and I gave up on all pretension. We fucked on the floor. We fucked on the bed. I had my bunny slave sit on the sill of the window overlooking the city, and gave him a harsh, sucking fellatio. I leaned on the door of my bedroom, and had the pervert boy lap on my pussy while I scratched his head and squeezed his animal ears. Afterwards, Daiki would pick me up and carry me to the adjoined bathroom, where we would give each other a nude, full-body bath – with especial attention to cleaning Daiki’s leftover cum from my vagina. I do not know which one of us first proposed using his bareback cock to scrape it out, but we took to the idea with verve – trying and trying, until it was clear we were only making a bigger mess inside of me every time either I or Daiki came from our attempts.
And while that alone is a misadventure to reminisce about, I do not want to. Not least because getting any hornier first thing in the morning will ruin my carefully laid-out schedule. A Moon-wide celebration for Lord Tsukuyomi is fast approaching, which leaves a not insignificant number of Moon rabbits worked past even their genetically heightened thresholds. To interfere with the slaves’ officialdom and its doles may lie beneath even my benevolence; yet I have found, through external channels, that parading myself before the labourers for their adoration has been doing wonders for their productivity. I have, therefore, taken in lately days to have my Daiki walk me deliberately around those sections of the Capital where work is lagging behind – and bolster the rabbits’ motivation.
A frivolous duty for a frivolous, fallen goddess.
Most of all, however, I do not want to get any further lost in my impure memories since I may only take so long to dress myself before my youthful servant wanders off to take care of other small chores in the meanwhile.
And that, I do not want him to do.
So, I bend over and step into the black, silken panties which Daiki has playfully picked out for me today. I pull them up my legs, past my thighs, and over my bare hips. I smooth down the snaking tails of my signature dress – those arrowhead allegories for my Amanojaku curse. And then, at last, quit the pale, rabbit-scented bedroom to re-join my attendant.
To my surprise – and faint disappointment – I find the door to have been shut fully close, and Daiki stationed duteously outside – his prim, flippantly dishevelled shirt and slacks nonetheless undisturbed in the areas I have half-expected to bear signs of being hastily zipped up. I do my best to seem innocuous when I lift his right hand up to my face and give it a furtive sniff. It smells of nothing but cloth and skin. I push away, bemused.
Might it be? Might I have actually sated his unbridled libido last night? Or has my cute Daiki perhaps begun to grow into his smart outfit?
Any way the Moon spins, I am smiling when I climb to the tips of my toes… and plant a soft, affectionate kiss on the rabbit boy’s mouth.
Me too, I let him know.
Although, I do not say it. Of course, I don’t. I simply shape the words atop his lips, hoping against the universe that, even in his visibly confused state, he would prove cunning enough to discern my silent meaning. And if, by chance, he disappoints me in this regard as well, then…
… Then, I think as I peel away from my tall, strapping servant, I may just have the opportunity to rub it in his face tonight.
Because, ahead he walked in to rouse me this morning, I managed to promise a certain, smug daemon that I would finally let her meet the boy I have been gushing so much about.