Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 13


Concerning the Manticore on the other side of the door.  

  

At this point in my life, I had never heard of Erwin Schrodinger; nor his philosophical hypothesis regarding cats locked in boxes, so it would have come as a surprise to find I was away to replicate the experiment with a potentially pissed off Manticore.  

  

The temptation to follow through with my idle threat of Chasity sleeping in the garden prickled at my restless feet like the bristles of the grimey welcome mat. To make matters worse, I had forgotten to slip on a housecoat in my haste to vacate the scene of my recent sexual transgression. Exhibitionism within the house was surprisingly liberating, providing you weren’t away to face an angry Manticore. 

  

Only cleaning out the murky depths of the shower drain clenched at my chest with a similar sense of distaste and left an acidic tang at the back of my throat. The surmounting terror of what I was about to confront as I fished around the U-bend, fingers squirming in the slimy water; angling for jellyfish comprised of Francesca’s hair matted with globs of fragrant shampoo and wads of Chasity’s spunk. Like poaching trout, you had to tickle your fingers just right or else the prize would wriggle out from your grasp. 

  

Sadly, I couldn’t guarantee the subsequent encounter wouldn’t amount to the same humiliation of tears, sweat, fur and gunk. Even my trusty pink elbow-length marigolds would provide little comfort or protection against Chasity’s wrath. In all honesty, I think I’d rather allow an Akaname to perform an invasive colonoscopy without anaesthesia… 

  

The thought stayed with me for longer than was deemed acceptable, leering at me from the darkened corner of my mind as I admitted the scenario might not be all bad. How about facing down a pack of hysterical Hellhounds in a meat suit, Lady Gaga style? Even the thought of raw bacon wrapped around my naked flesh…  

  

Aw, come on! Chasity’s perverted nature must be contagious! Only Chasity’s gross perversions could turn roasting a chicken into an act of culinary sexual depravity. Best not to contemplate the fun she could have with the still-warm carcass. 

  

With a heavy sigh and a worryingly happy todger, I opened the door to a soaked, bedraggled, and above all, furious Manticore. It was quite a nerve-wracking experience. One that is not improved by bursting out laughing in the thunderous face of said Manticore.  

  

Bright ruby-red eyes burned like embers within a contemptuous scowl. Thankfully, the full fury of the Manticore was shadowed by an emo-like fringe draped across her vision, dripping water down the side of her cute freckled nose. Baring her canines in a snarl with her ears pinned back, Chasity conveyed the impression as if Grumpy Cat had suddenly hit puberty and matured into a disgustingly adorable adolescent while striving to maintain an air of angst-laden indifference. 

  

Self-preservation had taken the night off. The words ‘Wet Pussy’ cavorted upon the tip of my tongue with dangerous intent. 

  

“Don’t. Say. A fucking. Word!” Chasity was not a happy Manticore. Every word clipped with murderous intent. 

  

My mouth hung open, mere seconds away from committing suicide before snapping shut. The lucid clarity and feral growl of Chasity’s command startling me to silence like a crack of electricity as you tentatively prod at the ribbon-like element of a rebellious toaster with a butter knife. Had I not possessed a thin sliver of pride embedded within my soul like an annoying splinter, I may have urinated myself. 

  

Against all better judgement, I had foolishly let my guard down. Too late, I made a feeble grab for Chasity’s wrist before she seized me by the throat. Deceptively soft-furred fingers tightening around my flesh as she hauled me into the morning and pinned me to the damp grass with a strangled yelp and a louder splash. Despite the intimidating terror of wicked claws worrying my jugular, I was mildly thankful she had chosen my throat, as the only alternative was malicious manhandling by the balls. Sadly my facetious belief offered little in the way of comfort. 

  

Not only was Chasity bigger, but she was also a damn sight stronger than I could ever hope to be. Effortlessly forcing her weight against my shoulders as if I was nothing more than a child. Unable to resist, I slowly submitted into the sodden grass. Cold, muddy water and Daemon Lord knew what else bubbled and squelched around my nakedness as Chasity loomed with a menacing sneer. Now probably wasn’t the best time to appreciate how cute Chasity was when angry, but it was a bit like having a lion cub snuggling into your arm while gnawing on your hand. 

  

The last glimpse of light from the dingy street lamps was eclipsed by a pair of imposing wings folding in around us. Trapped in the oppressive darkness of the Manticore’s lair, confronted by two wrathful embers like the endless abyss to the mouth of hell. Dry, cracked breath crawled across my skin, assaulted by the stench of alcohol, stale nicotine and the sourness of bile as rain pattered against our leathery cocoon. And yet the warmth and weight of Chasity’s body pressed against my own filled me more with comfort than fear. Not that I wasn’t shitting a brick, but my body found an inopportune moment to gift me with an inconvenient displacement of blood.  

  

“Payback?” Somehow, I managed a strangled gasp of spittle, my throat wheezed and whimpered against the pressure of Chasity’s paw. 

  

An answer, even if it were only a series of curses, would’ve been preferable to the widening of Chasity’s grin.  

  

“Think you could let meeeeee-“ 

   

Bringing her knee up between my legs with a sharp jerk, Chasity stopped a ball hair away from elevating my terror from a Baritone to a Helium fed Countertenor. Despite the oppressive miasma of fear, my cock managed a nervous twitch before disgracing itself with a warm glob of precum dribbling down my turgid todger. Cruel as she may be, I clung to the fervent hope Chasity would never intentionally cause me harm or ill-natured distress outwith the boundaries of her own aggressive lovemaking.  

  

Believing I was suitably subjugated, Chasity leant forward and nipped my ear between her teeth, placed a tender kiss upon my lips and hauled me from the mud by my arms after a brief struggle with gravity. The sticky ground sucked and gurgled before finally releasing me with a tearing schlup I found strangely erotic, reminding me on the many organically lewd sounds from my Dorome porn collection safely secreted away from prying paws. 

  

Light rain and hesitant clumps of sleet continued to drift between our gaze, nipping at my bare skin as the last traces of frustration bled away into the slushy mud which pooled around our feet. The icy water re-invigorating my senses only to unearth an aching fatigue which weighed upon my limbs. Accusations and principles that had seemed so important crept back into the shadows, lurking at the edge of existence, biding their time until they could seize control of another flared temper.  

  

A frightful shiver ran through my body, and I hugged my arms close to my chest in a futile effort to ward off the cold before Chasity stepped forward and pulled me into a fierce yet comforting embrace. Too tired to argue, I happily smothered my face into her mane. I baulked at the acidic tang of nicotine interlaced within the thick sodden fur around her neck and moved to console myself within her breasts instead. Every shameful Saturday blended into a single breath of pheromones; the warmth of a woman’s chest, a hint of sweat, my own cologne, the soft sensation of fur tickling my nose and the earthy aroma of Vodka. 

  

Heedless of my exposure and the prodding of my cock against Chasity’s jeans, I wrapped my arms around her pudgy waist, determined to savour this rare show of affection from the Manticore, before Chasity promptly ruined the moment by pinchy my arse. 

  

“Oi!” I glanced up from the comfort of Chasity’s cleavage only to have my objection silenced by a gentle kiss upon my forehead. A second, almost chaste kiss brushed my cheek and Chasity gazed longingly into my eyes.   

  

Though I may harbour an amorous affection towards the Manticore; at this precise moment in time, there was no way I was about to let her snog me with that cesspit of a mouth. Not only did I know what had been in there, but I was sadly blessed with the intimate knowledge of what had vacated it as well. 

  

“First gargle your mouth out with bleach, then I may let you kiss me,” Chasity’s pucker fell into a pout as she deflated with a despondent snort, “and no swallowing this time either.”* I poked her chest accusingly then playfully flicked her nose as she scowled at the offending digit. Maybe it was just the wind, but I could’ve sworn I saw a brief blossom of youthful embarrassment colour her cheeks.  

*(For a seasoned alcoholic like Chasity, household tipples such as bleach, anti-freeze and methylated spirits were a cheeky accompaniment to liven-up an otherwise insipid cocktail and provide a metaphorical kick in the bollocks.) 

  

“…first time I’ve heard ye say that…” Chasity was getting testy, and muttered beneath her breath while refusing to look me in the eye.  

  

“Sorry?” Pot, kettle, black and arse, but I wasn’t prepared to argue semantics. If only because I had no bloody idea what they were and didn’t want to appear foolish in front of Chasity’s tail. Who I suspected possessed a more extensive vocabulary as well as the knowledge with which to use it. 

  

“Y’ken, yer pretty cute-” I placed a finger against Chasity’s lips, trying in vain to salvage the moment while simultaneously sparing myself from her breath, still sour from her earlier indiscretion while sucking my cock. I removed Chasity’s paw from my buttocks, circling the squishy pads with my thumb before guiding her towards the house. Holding my gaze, her look of fierce defiance softened into the charming smile of a friendly fox offering to guard a litter of bouncy baby bunnies.  

  

Whenever Chasity flashed her cute kittenish grin, I just knew she was thinking of something absurdly perverse. 

  

Sleet continued to fall in miserable clumps as we crept, fumbled and quietly cursed towards the welcoming glow of the door. My frozen feet sinking into the mire of moss we once called a lawn as Chasity rest her weight across my shoulders. Salt shrivelled slugs could probably slouch faster than our ponderous plod as I manoeuvred the wavering Manticore towards the downstairs bathroom by a damp, muddy paw.  

  

Once inside, the challenge of guiding Chasity towards the downstairs bathroom without coming to disaster increased in difficulty, and I allowed myself a petulant rant within the privacy of my own head. With ponderous deliberation and several whispered curses, we carefully negotiated the mini obstacle course of discarded shoes; most of which weren’t mine, despite being the only person in this relationship with actual feet, before skirting a withering house plant precariously perched atop a wobbly table. Francesca insisted upon its existence within the house, believing it added a little cheer to the hall, and promptly forgot to water the bloody thing. 

  

Though I had been adamant the Kobold needed to look after the forlorn weed herself, I may have taken pity on the poor bugger and watered it every now and again. And maybe re-potted the poor thing. And started giving it a little Baby-bio to see if it would perk up. Otherwise, the bloody thing was Francesca’s responsibility! 

  

Like the aforementioned gastropod, Chasity’s tail limped behind, slouching through our footprints and leaving a long suspicious smear of mud. 

  

Maybe it was the fatigue of an early morning coupled with the gratification I had found in Francesca’s unwitting mouth, but I was sure Chasity had gained weight since I first met her. Not that I was keeping an eye on her weight; much like the Manticore herself who believed calories, carbohydrates and saturated fats were merely a superstition designed to support vegan propaganda, but I couldn’t help but notice her plump figure had grown deliciously pleasing and pliant over the past months.  

  

It would be unfair to say she was fat: the word, like the Manticore’s My Little Pony lingerie set, refused to fit her ample frame regardless of how much you poked, prodded or pushed, but it was fair to say Chasity’s figure was more of a cello than an hourglass. 

  

Briefly distracted whilst unsuccessfully attempting to reassure myself I could still flick on a light switch with my elbow, Chasity made a clumsy grab for my arse as we entered the bathroom, stumbled, and would’ve landed face first in the chunty had I not been seized by a misplaced sense of chivalry and caught her in my outstretched arms. By fuck, the bitch was heavy! No amount of romantic intentions would find me carrying her up the stairs! 

  

There was a lance of pain as my spine compressed under strain like a stack of stale jam doughnuts withstanding the kinetic force of a cricket bat. Giggling into my shoulder, Chasity sank her canines into my flesh. A twisted show of affection like the choke chain I was often forced to wear. She may not have broken the skin, but it didn’t stop the girlish yelp I directed into the tuft of fur around her elbow. I suddenly found myself reconsidering how cute those wicked fangs were. Like when an adorable, fluffy little hamster sinks its teeth into your finger. Forced to batter the little bastard’s brains against the wall and ruin your Garfield wallpaper with a splatter of haemoglobin claret and brain matter beige. 

  

If there was one saving grace to the morning, it was getting Chasity undressed was surprisingly easy. Point of fact, her T-shirt was thrown off and abundantly ripe breasts bouncing free with a lazy flick of her paw in a matter of seconds as I struggled and cursed with the mangled remnants of her button fly. What in the name of Pandemonium had she done? Knowing the right leg was liberally drenched in pish did not help matters in the slightest as I carefully pinched at the saturated fabric with a grimace. Chasity’s eagerness to strip may go some way to explaining why her trouser snake sprang free from its confinement, spitting lust into my face as I finally managed to pull her sodden jeans down around her ankles. 

  

The evocative scent of Chasity’s virility gave rise to a turmoil of emotions I’d sooner dismiss, wiping her precum from my cheek and into my disgustingly wanton mouth. Though I pointedly ignored the unsubtle waggling of Chasity’s viciously scarlet tonker in my face. A misplaced belief the mere sight of her towering erection would have me quivering on my knees, begging for it. I had to admit there was a disconcerting pang of temptation, salivating at the coating of salty zest on my tongue, and I was quick to argue it was merely the bitterness of Chasity’s precum as opposed to any homosexual desire to obediently swallow her cock. 

  

Shrugging off Chasity’s clumsy advances, I bundled her clothing into a corner and turned on the shower. The thrum of running water and a light haze of condensation caused Chasity to cast a suspicious glower in my direction before shuffling away from the stream of hot water creeping across the tiles. 

  

“Aww, is the wittle kitty afwaid of water?” I turned the shower head towards the cautious Manticore with a sneer, just managing to catch her already sodden feet. Chasity mrowled her annoyance as her ears lay flat, shrinking further into the corner until her wings clung to the tiles like a wet shower curtain. The damp hair of her mane bristled, making it appear she had swallowed a toilet brush as she clutched her tail to her chest in a half-hearted means of protection.  

  

You’d think the fact she was already soaked through would help mitigate the fuss, though bathing had always been a bone of contention for Chasity. The Manticore preferring to glorify in the fragrance of her own unique musk. Even as I guy, I had to admit there was something exquisitely seductive about the scent of Chasity’s sweat. Like freshly baked cookies infused with the perfume of feminine tang. Similar, in fact, to the flirtatious Holstaur patisserie round the corner who tactfully avoided my playful enquiries regarding her slightly soured confectioners cream. 

  

I loitered beneath the spray, relishing the heat seeping into my weary muscles as the water left me feeling refreshed and purified. A deluge of mud and other unspeakable muck slid from my back. I reluctantly accepted having a wet room on the ground floor was a great convenience. It had seemed somewhat pretentious, believing it was nothing more than a shadow of Francesca’s privileged upbringing, but when you lived with someone like Chasity… 

  

Waiting until Chasity’s back was turned, I hummed nonchalantly while she preoccupied herself by trying to guide her cock into her flaccid tail. Bottle of shampoo clutched in my hand, I took a tentative step forward. Keenly attuned ears twitched, swivelling towards the soft splash of my foot upon the slick tiles as I cast aside what little pride remained and pounced. Throwing an arm around her substantial hips and grabbing a handful of flesh, I squirted a generous splodge of pearly cream into her hair. Thick, fragrant alabaster oozed into her mane, dribbled down her back and slipped between her arse cheeks like a glaze of hot’n’sticky frosting drizzled over freshly baked buns.  

  

I loathed the smell of stale nicotine! 

  

“Fuck ye daeing!?” Chasity practically jamp out of her skin. Every fibre of her being bristled to attention and she dropped her tail which slapped against the tiles. 

“Trying tae make m’smell like a poofter or summin’?”   

  

I never could fathom Chasity’s aversion towards scented soaps, considering she was more than happy to borrow my aftershave. Often instructing me on which brand to buy in the future. Had she not shown uncharacteristic good taste in cologne, I’d have bought any old crap purely out of spite. 

  

Stumbling round in an erratic circle and grunting like a freshly wounded moose, Chasity cursed, snarled and beat her wings against me like a startled pigeon fending off an offensive by an opportunistic rat as I grappled with the Manticore. It felt like I was wrestling a belligerent blackcurrant jelly. Doughy flesh bulged between my fingers as I clung to her waist with one hand while I lathered the shampoo into her mane with the other.  

  

Amid the petty scuffle, I found a perverse delight massaging her fur into a fluffy froth as our glistening bodies writhed against one another like a nest of lust-fueled Lamia. Safe to say I didn’t go thirsty during the struggle, inhaling mouthfuls of foam and snorting suds by the bucket. Bubbles fizzled up my nose and popped around my brain. My eyes flooded with tears as I endured a fit of sneezing, cursing and hiccuping like a cocaine-addicted Kobold who had inhaled a line of lemon sherbert in a futile effort to curb her cravings. 

  

With faltering footsteps, Chasity quickly came to the conclusion that spinning on the spot while drunk wasn’t a particularly bright idea. Angry protests gradually dissipated into feeble objections as she staggered into the wall. Although I would hesitate to say Chasity was defenceless, it was surprisingly easy to take advantage of her openings without the aid of her tail. Chasity’s school of fighting was anything but graceful or disciplined, willing to crack a bottle of Vodka across her opponents head or lash out with a swift boot between their legs. Her tail acted like a viciously loyal guard dog (now and again a punching bag for when their internal conflict strayed into the realms of self-abuse) and took cruel delight in laying low anyone who would cause harm to its owner. 

  

Resigned to the fact there was no escape, Chasity slithered down the tiles and crumpled beneath the spray of water with a pitiful mewling growl. Whereupon she huddled into a ball, folded her arms beneath her heaving breasts and hung her head with a pout. Disgruntled ears flicked suds in my direction with poorly veiled contempt as Chasity snorted her disdain into her chest. Sometimes you’d be mistaken for believing she was still a child, though you’d have to overlook a cracking set of tits to do so. 

  

If it hadn’t been for the Manticore’s spiteful nature, I’d of happily slipped my cock between the fleshy, soap slicked mounds of Chasity’s glistening melons as they squished between her muscular arms.  

  

Ignoring the angry growls cast in my direction, I massaged Chasity’s scalp with righteous fury. The tips of her ears peeked out from under the thick suds like a pair of angry, snowcapped volcanos waiting to spew forth their rage. Satisfied I had given her hair a thorough frothing, I gave her mane a vigorous rub-down, digging my fingers into the thick fur, hoping to dislodge the acrid stench of cigarettes.  

  

Like a scarred and embittered stray tomcat reluctantly accepting its desire for affection, Chasity gradually warmed to my touch and relaxed into my arms. A soft purr whispered past her lips as I dug my thumbs into her back and eased the tension from her broad, heavyset shoulders.  

  

Face set in a petulant scowl, Chasity continued the facade of half-hearted disgruntlement as my fingers kneaded their way down her muscular arms. The firm bulge of her biceps made my knees quiver with girlish delight. So much power and raw aggression, it was easy to appreciate the primal attraction of the Manticore like the brutal grace and elegance of predatory big cats. 

  

Bathtime with Francesca was a cherished bonding ritual within our relationship; one which was supposedly endorsed by leading Mindflayer psychologists according to the Kobold, and could potentially guide the Manticore towards an intimate and therapeutic experience if Chasity simply stopped being such a fucking fanny!  

  

One thing I had learned from the soapy shower sessions with Francesca; aside from perfecting my technique to giving Francesca’s walloper a vigorous loofing in the name of meticulous personal hygiene, was to pay particular attention to a girl’s paws.   

  

With this in mind, I pressed my thumbs into the Manticore’s plush paw pads, tickling the downy fur nestled between the mounds of squishy black padding. It reminded me of those novelty mousemats, depicting the animated likeness of a Monstergirl where you rest your wrist between her cleavage.  

  

From out of nowhere, Chasity chuffed beneath her breath. Her ears fluttered a furtive glance in my direction before shying away from my knowing smirk. Unlike her purr, which could be kickstarted with the slightest provocation towards her ears, paws or even the tuft of her tail, Chasity’s chuff was a rare vocalisation which only surfaced when the Manticore was comfortable, relaxed and deeply satisfied within both her surroundings and the company she enjoyed.  

  

“Well, somebody’s changed their tune.” Apparently, there was more than one way to skin a cat. With my curiosity piqued, I peeped over Chasity’s shoulder. My gaze was inexorably drawn towards the Manticore’s crotch. Her erection stood proud, precum oozing from its tip whenever I massaged the tips of her furred fingers, forcing her claws to pop out like vicious little switch-blades.   

  

“Hm~mm, does the wittle kitty want her belly rubbed for being such a good wittle girl?”    

  

“Fuck off! ” Ears flicking their annoyance at my condescending simper, Chasity growled her answer as she rolled her shoulders with a haughty shrug, adopting another adorable pout.    

  

Warm water continued to cascade upon us, tickling as it flowed between our bodies. The sound of slick flesh sliding and slapping against one another filled the steamy room. I leant forward, rest my chin upon Chasity’s shoulder and slipped my arms around her waist as I carefully washed the tufts of damp fur that enveloped her knees. My fingers working to the rhythm of the Manticore’s rasping breath as she continued to purr in my ear. Her delight a sensuous caress causing my cock to flutter with anticipation. Soapy hands slid along the inside of Chasity’s luxuriously supple thighs, and gingerly cupped her heavy balls, rolling and fondling the fat fuzzy orbs in my foamy hands.   

  

A low murmur of appreciation belied her indifference, and I gave her balls a gentle squeeze as if moulding a lump of clay, forcing her appraisal to flow into a moan that sent a shiver of desire dancing along my spine. Chasity stretched, snuggling further into my embrace and gifting me a mouthful of sodden fur as I slowly traced my fingers along her throbbing length.   

  

Froth and shampoo squelched and popped between my fingers as I sluiced her stiff cock from base to tip. Another chuff kissed my ear; a happy little puff of sordid breath. Our cheeks touched. Soft, warm, comforting, and maybe a little bit sticky like sweat.   

  

Chasity rolled her head against my shoulder and purred as I plucked the fleshy barbs dotting her length. Back and forth along her cock, rubbing the sensitive nubs with my fingers and extracting an impassioned range of vocalisations until she sang a disjointed harmony like an asthmatic clarinet. Already, the Manticore’s hot, vicious cock shivered and twitched within my grasp.    

  

“Hmm, always said ye were a world-class wanker…” Chasity sighed, her little whimpers tickling the hairs on my neck as my ablutions became more confident and forceful. My own cock ached and pulsed with envy, grinding myself against Chasity’s hot doughy flesh as she squirmed in my embrace.   

  

Both my hands continued to work Chasity into a lather, aided by her own secretion of precum oozing into the mix. Even now, it still felt strange, holding her cock in my hand. The soft barbs rippling between my fingers. The weight of her balls resting in my palm. How her toes would curl and flex whenever my fingers flirted with the underside of her glans.   

  

Sometimes I envied Chasity’s grotesquely shaped member if even the slightest stimulation of her barbs felt so wondrous. And may help explain why her underwear was often saturated in precum.  

  

“Fuck, so good…” Chasity moaned and squirmed in ecstasy, tugging at my attention before convulsing in my arms and bucking her hips as she came. I could feel the raw power of Chasity’s orgasm as her balls quaked and quivered in my grasp. The way her cock shuddered in my hand, spraying out an arching jet of manti-jizz that painted the wall.   

  

Fascinated by the visceral sensuality of Chasity’s orgasm pulsing within my hand, I continued to slowly stroke her meat as she pumped out rope after rope of spunk. Batter spattered Chasity’s thighs, spilling over my hands and oozing between my fingers.   

  

“Fucksake! I’ve just washed that.”   

  

Butter churned; thick creamy and lightly salted, the last pitiful curds dribbled down my hand. Disdain pulled at the corners of my mouth. I presented my hand to the Manticore like a king expecting fealty and watched as Chasity licked her own jizzum from between my fingers. Eyes glazed with adoration like a content cat lapping stolen cream from its paws. It had already started to go tacky, more like swallowing salty chewing gum, but the sight of cat-spunk frosting Chasity’s lips stoked my own burning desires.  

  

My cock stood proud like a monument of masculinity, believing I could shatter tiles with my throbbing rager of sexual aggression yet possessing the common sense not to attempt it. 

 

Following a brief struggle, some mutual cursing and a farcical floundering of our slippery bodies amidst the snowscape of froth, I managed to manoeuvre Chasity onto her knees, where she promptly toppled forward.  

  

Arse sticking up in the air, face smooshed against the wet tiles. Chasity was the very picture of dignity as she let rip a barrage of expletives after inhaling a passing clump of foam. Unable to resist, I brought my hand down upon one luscious cheek. The slap was punctuated by Chasity’s warbling cry of delight while leaving a stark red handprint emblazoned across her flesh.  

  

One of the difficulties I usually encountered when fucking Chasity was what to do with her tail. If left to its own devices, the jealous appendage would cause all manner of annoyances while there was no guarantee the usual distraction of a double-ended dildo; or even a beloved aubergine, would satisfy its salacious curiosity. Even in its recumbent state, it flopped between her arse cheeks like a natural deterrent against sodomy.  

  

Though I could appreciate the experience of a woman grinding her cunt into my face during the throes of passion, having a vagina wrapped around your face like a sexually repressed Scylla can cause significant performance-related issues.   

  

This did, however, present the perfect opportunity to be a little more imaginative in the bedroom. So to speak. 

  

With both hands, I looped the unconscious mass of Chasity’s muscular tail around her waist and tucked the bulb snug between her thighs. Heedless of the spines that prickled its length like a porcupine. 

  

“H-Hey! Fit ye deeing?” Tangible panic lifted Chasity’s voice. Ears pinned back against her head. 

  

“You look like a bitch in heat, so I’ll treat you like a bitch in heat.” Did I exhibit an insincere smile? We both suspected I knew Chasity’s inherent weakness, but neither of us dared to attempt a coup. 

  

Chasity tensed with a strained growl, sobriety seemingly hit like a pail of ice-cold water, and she tried to push herself up with her arms. I pushed back, hands sinking into her corpulent backside and tipped the Manticore forward. Physics may have been my nemesis during school, but today it was an unexpected ally of convenience. Surely Chasity, a graduate of mechanical engineering, could understand if not appreciate the relationship between fulcrums and a centre of gravity, but this failed to prevent her paws scrabbling for purchase on the soap-slicked tiles. 

  

“Floba-bob-adob!!!” Water babbled around Chasity’s protests as I traced the crease of her tails slavering lips with my bellend, enticing its senses with a smear of precum while coating my cock in its own sweet and musky secretions. 

  

“Wakey-wakey,” 

  

The bulb quivered. Lips smacked as if tasting the air before they peeled back with a wide sloppy yawn like a lily in full bloom. Strings of slobber stretched and snapped between the puffy-pink petals as row upon row of dainty little nubs of flesh rippled back and forth in gentle waves. The sight was visceral, organic and strangely erotic, like the hair of a Flowkelp as it gently caressed and tactfully concealed the femininity of her body. Thousands of tiny tongues all eager to lick every inch of my cock. 

  

“Traitor!” Chasity spat the insult like an offending pubic hair had caught in her throat and flopped back against the tiles with a pitiful mrowl of annoyance. 

  

For reasons best known to themselves, Francesca had become infatuated with gardening, and speculated Chasity’s tail shared anatomical properties with that of common flowers: It’s tough leathery hide forming protective sepal, the delectable folds of flesh and cum gullet both petals and pistil. Even the lump of soggy vestibular gland shared a likeness to the nectar secreting nectaries. 

  

This may go some way to explain the Kobold’s benevolent neglect of houseplants, why the conservatory was an overgrown jungle and her compulsion to strap on bright pink wellies and randomly dig holes in the garden. At first, Chasity and I believed it was merely a characteristic of her canine pedigree, but the more I surveyed her excavations, the more I saw the outline of a grander plan. 

  

And ever since I sat through Francesca’s whimsical though thoroughly entertaining and somewhat graphic Powerpoint presentation, I couldn’t help but see the tail as some exotic carnivorous plant from the southern continents. I even caught myself greeting the appendage in the same condescending tone Francesca used when chatting with her cherished hanging baskets. 

  

“Who’s a good wittle cunt then?” The tail nuzzled into my fingers as I tickled the main body of the bulb where I guessed its chin would be if it possessed a face. By now, my cock was rock hard and eager for the warmth of Chasity’s pussy. Clumps of damp fur brushed my thighs as I edged closer and eased my member into the tails hot soppy gullet. 

  

Ineffable was a good-natured and jovial word that politely marked the boundary of an individual’s imagination, but left a little room for artistic embellishment depending on your preference for crass innuendo. In this regard, a Manticore’s tail marked not only the very pinnacle of my own limited education, but also my linguistic capabilities, and could only be conjugated in a primitive yet complimentary exclamation of profanity. 

  

“Holyfuck!” 

  

Mucus bubbled and popped in fat milky-white strings from between her moistened lips as I allowed the appendage to swallow my length. Slow, sloppy, sensuous sex sucked and squirmed around my cock. In an instant, my heart began to race, hot shivers of delight lifting my soul, and I couldn’t help but surrender myself to the carnal pleasure of Chasity’s hungry cunt. Expertly tailored towards the whims of Chasity, myself and Francesca, the petals moved to lick the underside of my bollocks and lightly flirted with the crack of my arse while simultaneously gulping down my cock. If the tail took me just a little deeper, it could give me a rim job while sucking me off. 

  

Daemon Lord! Not until the night I blundered into Chasity, had I ever experienced a sensation quite like a Manticore’s tail. Yes, the tight meandering folds of Francesca’s arse were exquisite, the sloppy sensuality of her mouth sublime, but nothing compared to Chasity’s slutty snatch! Chasity’s arse, on the other hand…  

  

Chasity’s arse looked lonely, forlorn yet silently optimistic. Spread before me like a Kobold obediently begging for a big juicy bone. An air of wistful exuberance clenched around the pucker of her ring. 

  

“Well! Ain’t ye gonna fuck me ye limp-wristed poofter?” Lifting her face from the tiles, Chasity scowled over her shoulder. Despite her act of indignation, Chasity’s breath was laboured, her ears twitched and flicked impatiently, and she wiggled her posterior back and forth as a subtle invitation. And I had to admit, a very tempting proposal.  

  

In response, the sleepy tail slurped and mumbled around my cock; tendrils of hot girllube dripped like honey along the curve of my balls and promised one hell of a wet and wild ride. 

  

I groaned my consent towards the tail’s suggestion and gently rocked my hips against her snatch. Soft wet slaps like a distant drip of water sounded as I mushed against the petals that cradled my balls. Pussy juice dribbled past her labia, and the tail gargled in adoration around my shaft. 

  

“Harder!” Chasity chuffed and moaned, followed by a low husky purr.  

  

A rueful smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. Eight months of raw, brutalising, perverse, sadistic subjection I had suffered at the paws of this vindictive Manticore. Knowing I wouldn’t have enough time to collect the full pound of flesh, I could at least strip off a fillet or two. Starting with a steak of fatty freckled rump.  

  

Unlike a certain Manticore, I at least had the decency to drop a wad of foamy spit on my hand before rubbing the makeshift lubricant between the cleft of her arse.  

  

With a pinch and a poke, I teased my middle finger against Chasity’s eagerly pink and puckered ring. A rivulet of warm water trickled between her arse cheeks and gently lapped around the tip of my digit.  

  

“Fuck yessss…” Chasity hissed through gritted teeth. Muscles contracted around her ring as if they trembled with anticipation. She always had been a kinky cat, but tonight she laid bare a precious facet of her personality I had always dreamed of uncovering. Beneath the testosterone, coffee and alcohol that pumped through her veins flowed an undercurrent of sugar’n’spice that adored My Little Pony and cuddling on the couch on a cold winter’s night. 

  

She was surprisingly tight. In hindsight, Chasity very rarely took it up the arse, but this was obscene! Even Francesca; who exercised her pelvic muscles religiously to help control her ungodly walloper, was more accommodating than this. And I only just managed to wriggle the tip of my finger before I encountered the resistance of her sphincter. 

  

“Do it!” The sultry gasp of pleasure clenched impenetrably tight around my knuckle, followed by a long, low throaty moan which relaxed her anus and allowed my digit to burrow a little deeper.  

  

I could feel the internal conflict that wracked the Manticore’s body squirm around my finger. Her anus inviting me deeper, while her sphincter tried in vain to repel the invasive object. Even her tail voiced its opinion on the matter; seeking my attention like an obedient little bitch, and the voracious mass of moistened muscle sucked, salivated and grumbled around my length. Enjoyable as the argument was, it felt like I had jammed my finger in the neck of a glass bottle, and I fought the desire to wrench myself out to see if I could make the Manticore pop. 

  

If we were doing this, it would be on my terms. No matter how much Chasity cursed, argued and threatened, I knew, deep down, she loved to be taken rough and raunchy. Daemon Lord knows I had gained plenty of experience at the paws of the Manticore now at my mercy. Like getting drunk, I knew I would suffer for this later, so I may as well enjoy the ride while I could.  

  

It wasn’t so long ago, our roles were reversed, and Chasity had taken the opportunity to victimise me while I was alone in the shower. Jealousy was surprisingly rare in our relationship; both Chasity and Francesca seemingly comfortable with our current arrangement (and I dreaded the day I was forced to make a choice), but every now and again, one of my mistresses felt the need to be a little selfish and possessive of my attention. Thinking back on the devilish encounter, I mirrored the Manticores unsubtle advances and carefully wrapped an arm around Chasity’s pudgy waist. 

  

There was no protest, no warning growl, no vehement flicking of her ears. Buoyed by a misplaced sense of courage, I grabbed a handful of her soap-slick breasts, smirked at the thought of watery-melons and rest my weight against her back until my lips almost kissed the nape of her neck. At the same time, I curled my middle finger into her arse and lightly brushed her raw and puffy prostate. 

  

“Does Chasity deserve a good, hard fucking?” Panting past Chasity’s ear, the fold of tufted velvet cowered from my harsh whisper.  

  

“Hnng… Dinnae start that shite and jusaaanngghh!” 

  

Without warning, remorse or even the common courtesy of a polite ‘brace yourself’, I pulled Chasity onto my cock and buried my todger into her gluttonous cunt. In reply, the tail coughed, choked and gargled around my cock. The titanic impact spattered love juice across my legs and drenched Chasity’s glistening cheeks with fragrant girlcum. 

  

By fuck she was wet! As if somebody had dumped a bucket of hot wallpaper paste over my crotch, and the sticky-slick liquid embellished every sordid texture of her cunt. From the rippled folds of flesh that sucked and licked around my cock, to the silken softness of her cum gullet that kissed my bellend with each gentle thrust. A tasty nub of swollen flesh trembled at the entrance to her tails throat and rubbed against the underside of my member like a pierced tongue. Not even a Ghoul could suck a cock like Chasity’s tail, and I had been a regular client of the Glory Hole gentleman’s club down the bottom of Spittal Brae. 

  

Despite Chasity’s desperation, my deliberate pounding of her tail resumed as I slapped and mushed into her hot soppy snatch. The languid appendage offered little resistance save the slurp of saliva that squelched around my cock and accepted every inch of my passion with loving adoration. Pungent mucus dribbled from her cunt in thin slivers of spittle, trickled down the inside of her thighs and pooled amidst the water like a sheen of oil. 

  

“Does Chasity want to be ridden like the animal she is?” It’s safe to say I may have gotten a little carried away, curled my fingers through her hair and pulled her face away from the tiles. 

  

“Fuck you!” Chasity spat her defiance, twisted in my embrace and cast a withering glare over her shoulder. Belying her disdain, a rich rumbling purr layered beneath her ragged breath, echoed by the suggestive mumble which undulated through the folds of her greedy cunt. Chasity’s unspoken desire hung in the muggy air, craving the sensation of my hot-hard shaft tearing through her submissiveness. Determined to savour every moment of the Manticore’s uncharacteristic meek affection, I cupped her chin and held her sultry gaze.  

  

Maybe it was my imagination, a lack of sleep, my senses brittle and teetering on the edge of hysteria, but I swear there was a brief crackle of static like a distant peel of thunder in the void between our stare before Chasity lowered her eyes and licked and nibbled on my thumb. 

  

Such a filthy mouth. She wanted it badly. But I wanted to hear her beg for it first. 

  

Starting at the nape of her neck, I traced my fingers along the curve of her spine, following the outline of her waist, her hips, her jiggling backside before I brought my hand down across her quivering rump.  

  

“Who’s the bitch now!?” Chasity’s tortured growl drowned out the sharp slap which left a bright red brand throbbing in her creamy flesh. Bravery? Stupidity? Both sat either side of a line blurred by the sweetness of euphoria. 

  

Obviously, one finger just wasn’t enough for the slutty Manticore, and I dipped a second into her arse. Claws screamed in anguish, gouging into the tiles for purchase and Chasity’s laboured resistance drowned out with a primal scream of ecstasy upon her shuddering breath. One final push was all she needed. With one in the pink and two in the stink, I drove my fingers into her swollen love button and slammed my cock in and out of her gargling cum gullet for all I was worth.  

  

“Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme!” By now, Chasity was howling loud enough to wake the dead; though that was a horrible way to describe our elderly neighbours, chanting a mantra of muffled profanity and disturbing migrant clumps of foam with her prayer.  

  

Throat-like muscles convulsed and choked around my cock, her sphincter seized my fingers, and Chasity’s voice drifted away upon a breathless whimper as she tensed, orgasmed and bucked within my arms, splattering the tiles and her bouncing breasts with another thick load of sticky desire.  

  

Doughy flesh bulged between my fingers as I grabbed Chasity by her succulently meaty hips. Delighted by the softness of a woman in my embrace, I held her close and relished every emotion expressed within her throes of passion. 

  

Each rope of spunk that shuddered from her balls tugged upon both my fingers and my cock. And that small gesture was the final push to tip me over the edge as I plunged into her warmth and let myself go. 

  

Pleasure clenched at my stomach and tickled my balls, complimented by the sensual massage of the tail’s petals. A tendril of ecstasy bulged in my cock and wormed its way through my cum vein. One last laboured groan and I poured my load directly into her cum gullet with an eruption of fertile Alabaster. Now the tail awoke to my desire and greedily gulped down every rope of spunk that passed its sultry lips. 

  

Balls deep within Chasity’s tail, I slumped on top of the shuddering Manticore as the appendage gulped around my cock. I couldn’t help but allow myself a self-satisfied smile at a job well done. Chasity’s panting fractured by a loud, rumbling purr of contentment as her walls continued to squirm around my twitching shaft, desperate to milk every drop of cum from my balls. 

  

The drain gurgled and spluttered, choking as it struggled to swallow Chasity’s gelatinous jellyfish amidst the flood of foamy brine that bubbled within its throat. Pulling myself free from Chasity’s embrace with an undignified grunt, I slowly shuffled across the tiles upon shaking knees and began to rinse off the stench of sex beading on my dampened skin.   

 

There was a slosh, a wave of tepid water lapped at my toes as heavy panting lumbered and splashed up from behind. Two paws rest upon my hips, damp yet unexpectedly delicate, and Chasity pulled me close, kissing my neck with sloppy affection. Apparently, somebody was still elated by the service she had received, and I lent back into her arms, more than happy to welcome a little praise and kindness from the otherwise brazen Manticore. Her sodden mane and succulent breasts tickled and squished against my back as she lightly nibbled the nape of my neck. And ever so gently, placed the tip of her throbbing erection against the crack of my arse.   

  

Oh dear… 

  

Suddenly, the situation had soured, and we slipped a downwards slope towards a destination I didn’t want to go. And only now did I begin to question the extent of Chasity’s gratitude.  

  

Call it women’s intuition, but I got the distinct impression someone was looking for their hole. Sometimes, it felt like my entire existence revolved around making sickly-sweet coffee for the Manticore while catering to her insatiable appetites. In a peculiar twist of indignation, I found it a little worrying I could easily be replaced by a Tassimo and a soapy sponge jammed in between a toilet seat.  

  

“Did I hear ye raise a challenge?”  

  

Oh shit!  

  

A whiff of alcohol whispered past my ear and puffed into my face as Chasity snuffled into my neck, gently teasing my nipples between damp furry digits while kneading at my buttocks. Thankfully without her claws, having left my arse like a tenderised chicken breast on a number of occasions. As much as I’d usually enjoy such attention, my agonisingly sensitive cock couldn’t find the motivation to even maintain a chubby and wanted nothing more than to shrivel up and hibernate before needing to feed once more. Then again, the prospect of anal with a drunk Chasity failed to ignite my enthusiasm, having been on the receiving end many an early morning.   

  

I had already accepted (and somewhat enjoyed) Chasity’s preference for rough, passionate sex. Able to brutalise my sphincter with the skill and dexterity of an acupuncturist, wielding her meaty needle with surprising discretion to help alleviate stress and pain. Her clumsy heavy-handedness while drunk, however, made anal uncomfortable if not downright painful. Like early man investigating the world with a pointy stick, Chasity would vigorously explore my rectum with her viciously inquisitive cock and little remorse.  

  

In a strange and possibly chauvinistic sentiment, I felt I could sympathise with naive yet preppy high school girls left to the mercy of a nervous teenage boy and his tactless fingers in a park at night. Shamefully reminding myself, I was once one of those ignorant adolescents, who despite watching an unhealthy amount of pornography, hadn’t fully grasped the difference between the vagina and the clitoris. Though I had quickly learnt that clumsily jabbing your thumb into one didn’t receive as warm a reception as the other.  

  

Enviously looking towards the toilet as Chasity began to fumble with my cock; still persisting on nibbling at the nape of my neck with her otherwise cute canines, I wondered if I could divert her brutal desires elsewhere? That sexy, soapy sponge in the corner would look mighty inviting to a Vodka blind Chasity.  

  

No chance! Even an inebriated Chasity wouldn’t settle for a cheap, overly processed hamburger when there was a succulent steak for the taking. Though she would smother both with a generous dollop of full-fat mayonnaise. Not that I was narcissistic enough to compare my buttocks to a prime piece of fillet. Mind you, I had to admit my cheeks were pleasantly toned and apparently quite spankable.  

  

Dallying for longer than an attentive cum bucket had any right to, Chasity’s attention had only grown more insistent. Her comforting warmth and considerable weight imposed against my back while she smeared her precum between the cleft of my arse, making me squirm uncomfortably. As much as I adored the Manticore and hated the thought of disappointing her, it was in these moments of selfish drunkenness, I felt her attentions were close to rape, and even a little frightening. Which made the pleasure I found in the turmoil of terrorising humiliation all the more shameful and demeaning.   

  

Realising there was no chance of a little foreplay; never mind escape, I bent forward with a sigh, placing my hands on the tiled wall and presented my arse like a horny little bitch in heat. Humility was a bitter pill to swallow. Especially when served as an accompaniment to a warm slice of humble pie.  

  

“That’s a good lad.” Chasity spoke as if praising an obedient puppy, and I’d be damned if I didn’t feel the urge to wag a tail I did not possess. Maybe a shot or two of Chasity’s finest Badgers Arse Whisky would help curb the enthusiasm of these bloody self-deprecating endorphins. 

  

Without further invitation, Chasity positioned herself behind and grabbed hold of my hips. I suspected it was more to prevent herself from face planting the tiles than any sense of intimacy. Steadying my fleeting breath, I willed my muscles to relax. In all honesty, it wouldn’t be so bad if she just bothered to use some lubricant or something, not even giving me the courtesy to spit on her cock. Regardless, I was grateful she hadn’t used shower gel after experiencing numerous inconveniences the last time.   

  

“A’ve bin lookin’ forward tae this a’night!” Believing there was some truth to the statement, it didn’t necessarily mean she was referring to me. Painfully aware of Chasity’s proclivities during her nights out for some time, you didn’t need to be Hercule Poirot to work out why the Manticore smelled of cheap perfume or had varying shades of lipstick smeared around the shaft of her cock. At first, I had felt hurt. Betrayed, in fact, believing I was just a convenient ride when she was bored before Common Sense prevailed and consoled my jealous inferiority. This was Chasity we were talking about. Somewhere in the depths of her foetid mind, it made absolute sense sleeping with other women didn’t count as infidelity. She quite literally didn’t know the meaning of the word.  

  

Blindly guiding her cock towards my arse like a Cyclops trying to thread a needle, Chasity paused then thrust forward. There was a sharp stab of pain, and I hissed through gritted teeth, wincing as her tip smashed into my coccyx before sliding upwards along my back. Her second attempt bludgeoned into my left buttock while the third missed entirely and somehow slapped against her own stomach. In hindsight, Chasity never had been any good at Battleships.  

  

An opportunity presented itself while Chasity cursed and threatened her own penis; slapping her bruised todger against my equally tender cheeks as punishment, and I squeezed a dollop of shampoo into my hand. Reaching between my legs, I curled my fingers around her abused member and gently massaged the gloop along her knobbly length. The string of curses gradually subsided as I coaxed the Manticore’s throbbing cock towards my cowering sphincter. With a long, despairing, inward sigh, I placed her tip against my puckered hole.  

  

If this didn’t work, I’d be blowing bubbles out my arse for the next few days. Which wouldn’t have been so bad had Chasity not attempted to light my pockets of flatulence with a child-like glee frolicking in her eyes.  

  

Chasity’s body tensed, a shit-eating grin pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she readied herself to drive her cock home in one mighty thrust. At the last moment, I clenched my cheeks and tilted my arse, somehow managing to sheath her vicious cock between my thighs as her crotch smacked into my buttocks with a wet slap. Attempting to flex my arms in time with the impact of a randy Manticore, my shoulders twisted in a scream of agony like the crumple zone of a classic Mini being battered up the arse by a furious freight train. The force of Chasity’s ballistic crotch buckling my arms and smacking my face into the tiles.  

  

“Aww, you dirty fucker!” Pained and bewildered, my vision swam as if I was looking at the world underwater until I realised I was actually enjoying an extreme close-up of the wet, tiled wall after an aggressive zoom malfunction. Resting my flushed face on folded arms, I allowed myself a rueful smile, another unwilling practitioner dancing to the distorted tune of the Almighty Fuckyou!  

  

“Aye, ye should be grateful I’m poking this filthy hole a’yers, ye dirty Bitch.” Snickering to herself, Chasity raked my back with her claws, mistaking my unrepentant prayer as a mediocre attempt at dirty talk as I whimpered and squirmed beneath her touch.  

  

“Bet ye just love it rough.” Pain flared glorious acidic red, Chasity pricked the tips of her claws against my shoulder, and I whimpered a feeble protest between clenched teeth. A second lance of rapturous agony pierced my flesh, a thin sliver of drool beaded at the corner of my mouth as I convulsed with a strained cry.  

  

Balls deep between my thighs; thankfully still oblivious to the fact she was grinding her cock between my thighs like some horny mongrel humping its favourite toy, Chasity started to rock her hips, clinging to my waist as I trembled at her touch. Daemon Lord, I just loved the raunchy sensation when she grabbed me from behind! The raw passion as she teased her claws against my tender flesh. Admittedly, I wasn’t particularly enamoured that I compared myself to some battered old teddy bear, but the thrill of Chasity rutting into me barged aside such petty inconveniences like a duck experiencing an unexpected encounter with a jet engine. Selfish little bastard refusing to carry around a sachet of Hoisin Sauce for the convenience of others should such an occurrence take place. 

  

My own cock stirred from its hibernation with a sloppy yawn as Chasity’s viciously barbed todger rippled between my soap-slicked thighs. Her tip aggressively tickling my balls, in the same manner as a sledgehammer tickles your kneecaps. Another shudder wracked my body as Chasity ran a paw down the length of my spine. Her claws left trails of delight burning across my skin, kneading my flesh as she continued to thrust between my thighs.  

  

“Fuck! Have ye gotten tighter?” Chasity grunted in effort, a hint of laughter played upon her voice and dug her claws into my shoulder. Fucking bastard bitch cunt! Unable to speak, powerless to resist, I uttered a shuddering gasp and savoured the sudden blossom of sharp pleasure that dripped like rose petals against the tiles. 

  

Now that was hurtful, trying to imply my arse was loose. If anyone was to blame, it should be herself. Though Francesca had all but destroyed me on the odd occasion; thankfully, without the aid of her ungodly knot, it was mainly Chasity that used me as her personal cum bucket. As much as I loved the Kobold, I didn’t think I could accept her extensive desires on a regular basis.  

  

Now it was Chasity’s turn to wrap her arms around my waist and gift me every ounce of her lust. Hard, fast and unrelenting like a jackhammer. The onslaught felt oddly familiar, and I found myself the recipient of a soap-slick bare-breasted massage mushed against my back as she leant forward and pulled me onto her cock with a series of thick throaty growls. Call me selfish, but it was difficult to appreciate the sound of someone grunting past your ear when all you could focus on was the weight of their abundantly fluffy balls slapping into your thighs like a moistened sponge. And I began to wonder if I should have allowed Chasity to plough my arse. If only to share in the turmoil of the Manticore’s roiling emotions.   

   

“Bastard!” Without warning, Chasity tightened her grip around my waist and slammed against my thighs with a whimper. Her untimely climax caught us both off-guard, our disappointment and surprise manifest in a pathetic croak as the Manticore’s spunk spattered my chin before decorating the wall like a rope of Arachne silk.   

  

“Take it! Take it! Take it!” Undeterred, Chasity rut like a feral animal. Her cock spasmed with each thrust between my legs, glazing my own bouncing member in hot-silken jizzum as she ground out a second, third, then a fourth thread of cream-laden ejaculate.   

  

Lurid breath wheezed past my ear as the savage sawing of Chasity’s member slowed before slipping out from between my thighs and smeared her lust across my buttocks. For some inexplicable reason, it felt like I’d received the raw end of the deal this evening. Regret burrowed beneath my skin, missing out on the loving warmth of a hot load coating my insides. But this was quickly overshadowed by an almost spiteful relief at not having to waddle about and clart my red-raw ring with moisturiser for the foreseeable future.  

  

Brilliant. Looked like I’d need to clean the bathroom sooner than expected. Fragrant manti-jizz splattered across the tiles, creeping into the grouting where it crawled sluggishly like a chain of fetid canals. On the bright side, it may help keep the mildew in check.    

   

It was astounding one person could produce so much spunk, even with the aid of Manticore venom. In saying that, Chasity’s balls weren’t exactly small, like a pair of fluffy, ripe satsumas dangling between her legs. Under the right light, they were similar in colour, with a tendency to secrete sweet sticky juice throughout the day.    

  

Contemporary art was wasted on a philistine such as myself, but even I could appreciate the organic expression of mirth painted by the Manticore. I wondered if Francesca could equal such carnage without the aid of venom, and I was struck by a sporadic impulse of vagrant inspiration for a spunk based Olympics one dull and damp afternoon.   

  

What was worse? The saddening fact it actually sounded like fun or the little tickle of excitement I got from the thought of watching my mistresses spray their passions about the place. In either case, I was destined to cum last in each event, easily outclassed in the quantity of load and the distance I could spurt. Even the viscosity of my ejaculation lacked substance by comparison. My only saving grace would be quality, my spunk possessing a fragrant fruity bouquet and pleasantly sweet aftertaste like a fresh juicy peach. Oh, how I’d love to say such knowledge was second hand, but you didn’t get far in a relationship with Chasity without some kinky regrets.   

  

Shameful as it may be, I scooped the thick frosting of Manti-jizz that dripped from my chin and gingerly licked my fingers, where I rolled the musky pearl on my tongue as I rinsed off my spunk covered cock. Thick, tangy broth lingered upon my tongue, reminiscent of the time I had eaten out a Kraken’s fishy snatch, only to receive a dirty cocktail of inky-piss-girl-cum squirted in my face. You could say I was black affronted by the outcome. 

  

“Chasity, why does your cum taste a bit like squid ink?”   

  

“…”   

  

“Chasity?” What was she up to now?  

  

Glancing over my shoulder, I found Chasity slouched on her knees, nodding off like a kitten tuckered out after riding a catnip high. Even now, I still felt a flutter of giddiness when I got to gaze upon her adorable sleeping face. Cute little canines peeking out from below her soft, pink upper lip. The charm tarnished at the sight of her scarlet tonker as it dribbled a thick rope of spunk.    

  

To think, Chasity used to get pissed with me for falling asleep minutes after ejaculating following a hot and heavy session of vigorous abuse. At least I had the decency to only inconvenience myself, unlike the Manticore who had, on occasion, passed out while still buried deep inside either myself or Francesca. The sensation of her viciously barbed cock slowly deflating within my colon only to have my sphincter eject the invasive object was both discomforting and exceptionally messy.  

  

The pleasant fluttering of a butterfly knotted into a wasp of resentment, and I turned the showerhead on the Manticore to a chorus of profanity before washing away the last stubborn growths of suds and clumps of stringy semen from her fur.    

  

Pink skinned, floofy furred and as dry as I could manage without threatening the use of a hairdryer, we gazed upon the summit of the stairs with trepidation. The sirens song of irresponsibility to just dump Chasity on the couch and cuddle with Francesca was tempting, but Insecurity and Guilt were looking forward to being lovingly enveloped in fur. Admittedly, sleep had never fallen so readily than when embraced within the overwhelming comfort of my Mistresses.    

  

“Come on. Your legs painted on or something?” Assisting Chasity up the stairs was as much a kerfuffle as I had initially envisaged. Though the Manticore still displayed some semblance of control over her tottering legs, it felt like I was leading an uncooperative donkey up a steep slope at times. Each step we climbed an effort of inventive curses and mildly abusive encouragement at the pointed end of an indiscriminately brandished finger into her ribs. Thankfully, Chasity no longer smelt like an ass with chronic addiction to cigarettes and cheap alcohol. Which was just as well, considering my face was pressed against her oxter as I carried her indifference.  

  

There was an occasional thump as Chasity’s flaccid tail bounced behind like a deflated ball, leaving splodges of frothy mucus on the carpet and losing two spines along the way. I’d have to try and remember the envenomed ivory or risk an exceptionally rude awakening when I shambled down the stairs later this day.    

  

Common Sense cautioned against complacency, whereas Apathy led by example and couldn’t even be bothered to get out of bed to form a cohesive argument. Although Common Sense possessed the innocent, almost fanatical exuberance of someone who has never been punched in the face, he was able to appreciate the merit of silence when the threat of a fist related tooth disorder hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles. Even personifications didn’t get far without a healthy survival instinct, with both Common Sense and Cynicism honorary graduates of life. In contrast, Empathy had been found murdered in a ditch.   

  

Burdened beneath the weight of Chasity’s embuggerance, we blundered through the dark; guided by the cute snores and whimpers of Francesca before I graciously dumped the Manticore on the bed. Whereupon she hit the mattress like a sack of potatoes, prompting the springs to creak alarmingly under the sudden shock and almost tossed the slumbering Francesca off the other side as the bed quaked violently. I grabbed handfuls of fur and love handle and rolled the Manticore onto her side, where she naturally flopped face-first into the pillow in a semi-suicidal recovery position. Finally, I coiled Chasity’s tail around her feet, the fleshy bulb gave a half-hearted grab for my hand before burrowing under the covers.   

  

Thank the Daemon Lord! Never had the allure of sleep weighed so heavy upon my mind. Exhaling a weary yet grateful sigh, I slid in behind Francesca, pulling the covers up from around our feet. Still sucking her thumb, I couldn’t help but smile, filled with a tender glow of affection for the Kobold. I may have gone as far as to include Chasity in my mushy little moment, had she not ruined the mood with a grunting snort as she idly scratched her bollocks. Exhausted, sore, but thankfully not bloodied, I settled behind the peacefully slumbering Kobold, moulding myself around her beautifully curved figure.  

  

As an afterthought, I tucked my happy todger between my stomach and the sensual warmth of Francesca’s backside. Fingers stalking through the dense undergrowth of fur, my hand crept across her fleecy hips, tracing its way upwards to cradle her breasts.   

  

Francesca uttered a sleepy mumble around her thumb with a lazy wag of her tail before relaxing further into my embrace. Another snort, grunt and creak of bedsprings as Chasity lumbered from behind, resting her weight against my back. Her arm folded around both myself and Francesca, holding us close, and the Manticore nuzzled into my neck with a content little rumble I believed may have been a burp.  

  

Now, this was heaven! Even taking the wet smacking of lips into consideration as Francesca mouthed her thumb, followed by the peculiar sensation of Chasity’s tail investigating the sexual proclivities of my foot. It was moments like this that led me to believe I could happily live without sex, providing I could cuddle either (though preferably both) of my mistresses. Savouring the comforting warmth and intimacy found snug in the arms of Chasity with Francesca nestled in my arms. Wallowing in their soothing scent, I allowed slumber to gently pull me under. 

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