Bonds of Silver, Bonds of Gold 09: Present (Part 3)

The baron’s personal chambers, a short walk down a narrow hallway from the entry parlor, were surprisingly bare, compared to Mister Dion’s. The bed was common, a simple frame upon which a mattress lay, topped with a quilt and pillows. In front of that, a large trunk sat, latched and closed. A bureau sat beside that, with a wardrobe beyond, one door open to expose a polished steel mirror. A simple table with two chairs sat against the opposite wall, and a plain rug covered the floor. The only signs that marked the room as belonging to Baron Deterikh were the emblazoned shield that hung on the wall atop a crossed pike and mace, and a family portrait that hung opposite it, of an older grey wolf in military regalia standing beside a black-furred rabbit in an elaborate jade gown. Aside from those, I might have thought it belonged to an ordinary soldier.

As the baron led me inside, he motioned towards the bed. “Toss the quilt to the side, then lie down.” His voice quavered slightly, but his tone was clear. His paw landed on my rump, a firm slap that made me jump towards the frame.

I bowed my head, ears tucking back against my head. “Yes, master,” I said as I hurried over to comply. Despite Mister Dion’s unwelcome attentions of earlier, I was feeling the need again, and the baron’s scent tickled parts of my mind that none of my owners had to date. His musk was sweet, thick with youth and familiar in ways that it had no reason to be. It curled in my nostrils and made the blood pulse in my ears.

“Is there a problem?” The baron’s voice called out behind me. “You’re just standing there. I gave you an order.”

With a sudden flush in my cheeks, I realized I’d been standing with my legs pressed together, suddenly lost in the baron’s scent and the burning between my legs. Is this Miss Aura’s doing? I wondered as I pulled down the quilt. “I’m sorry, master,” I said, climbing up into the bed. “How shall I lie for you?”

The baron—now stripped to his breeches, a pile of clothes discarded by the door—grinned as he walked over to the bed. “On your back, legs spread. I want a look at the newest part of my barony.” The wolf’s tail wagged as he joined me, kneeling at the end of his bed. “So, you’re the gift Dion hinted at.” Some expression must have passed before my eyes when he said the name; a sudden barking laugh escaped his muzzle. “Tell me what you think of him.”

I frowned, turning my head to the side. “It isn’t my place to speak of others, Master.”

That brought a frown to the young baron’s expression. “Now see here… what was your name again?”

“Taneh, master,” I said softly.

“Taneh, then.” The baron nodded sharply. “If you belong to me, then it’s up to me what your place is, isn’t it?” He paused a moment while I considered his words, but then quickly snapped. “Look at me.” Not waiting for a reply, he pitched himself forward, one paw to the side of my head, the other sliding under my muzzle and forcing it to face his. “I said…” His golden eyes bored into mine, going wide as he caught sight of the dampness on my cheeks. “Great Family. What’s wrong?”

I sniffed and shook my head. “It’s… nothing, master. I’m sorry.”

A growl escaped the back of the baron’s throat. “I am quite tired of people telling me what is and isn’t important to me. If I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Something’s troubling you. Out with it.” His eyes glanced upwards, then back to mine. “It’s Dion, isn’t it.” His tone made it a statement. “Did he hurt you?”

I bit my lip. “Not… as such, master.” At this distance, his scent was overpowering, heavy and inviting, and I squirmed beneath my new owner, trying. “Master, you’re still dressed. I should—”

A finger suddenly lay across my lips. “I’m also tired of people telling me what I will and won’t do. I’m quite capable of dressing myself, and of doing the reverse. Tell me what Dion did to you.” He held still for the span of two breaths. “That’s an order, Taneh.”

I swallowed heavily. “Yes, master, he… had me lick his hinds, after he took me.”

That brought a second growl out of the baron. “So, not only does he take a month to give me the present he said should be a week, but he takes the time to try it out himself, first.” He shifted to a seated position between my legs, then balanced his elbows on his knees and rested his muzzle in his paws. “Tell me how he came to own you, Taneh.”

I nodded again, then started the tale of how Mister Dion found me at the Blue Moon, sparing as few details as I could, from that first unpleasant claiming to the news of being sold, the trip to Miss Aura’s and her training. Something in the tale tickled the back of my mind, of the ritual and what happened during it, but as I tried to focus on it, the memories faded like morning mist in the heat of day. I shook off the sense of confusion and held out my paws to him, showing him the stubby, clawless digits. “Once she was satisfied with her work, she brought me here. Mister Dion paid the balance with a letter to the exchequer, and Miss Aura called him a right bastard for it. The rest you know, master, or can guess.”

When I was finished with the story, the baron nodded once. He knelt, his arms crossed in front of him. His scent had thickened significantly as I talked, and his breeches showed a significant bulge. “Quite a tale, I must say,” he said softly. “I’m surprised Aura remembers me; I was just a whelp when she left.”

I smiled and sat up slightly, hooking my paws into the waist of his breeches. “She said she was a piece of history, master, but when she spoke of you, it seemed that events were very much part of her present.”

The baron was silent for several seconds after that, visibly lost in thought. Then his head snapped upwards and a laugh broke out on his muzzle. “You’re right; she is a piece of Deterikh history, and mine, which amounts to the same thing. Listen, Taneh.” His eyes met mine again, and he smiled. “I take my responsibilities seriously. You belong to me, now, and I swore an oath to protect the barony. That includes you. Dion’s my best envoy and one of Aunt Datsia’s finest scouts, but that doesn’t give him free license to use you like that. If he comes near you, you tell me. Do you understand?”

Warmth spread up from my nethers in response to his words, among other things. “Yes, master.”

The baron chuckled in response. “Good. You may finish undressing me.” With that, he rose to his knees, giving me an opportunity to pull down his breeches, exposing his sheath. His shaft needed no encouragement, pink and visibly ready. “On your knees, chest against the bed, Taneh.”

“Yes, master.” I needed no more encouragement, scrambling to adopt the position he requested. As I pressed my muzzle to his mattress, his groin rubbed against my rump, his shaft nestled between my buttocks. A soft moan of pleasure escaped me as he rocked against me, and then one of his paws was at my legs, spreading them further to lower me down.

“Brace yourself, Taneh,” he moaned, then put one paw on my hip, the other positioning himself against the opening to my eager tunnel. He slid himself forward with a groan, pressing himself into me, and a soft whimper escaped me as he sunk himself smoothly into me until the base of his sheath pressed against my lip. “Oh,” he breathed, letting out a growl of pleasure. “Oh Matska you’re tight… and hot…”

I trilled in pleasure as he took me, pressing myself back against him to pull him further into me. His words were just another sensation, another part of my master shared as he filled me. As his shaft sank home, I arched my back, relaxing to invite him further, then tensing again as I slid forward. I wasn’t the expert that I imagined Miss Aida’s other girls to be, but Miss Aura had taught me a few things about my body, and I eagerly put that training to use for the wolf as he pulled back, then thrust anew into me. Each slow, teasing caress of flesh on slick flesh stoked the flames within, and soon I was panting, whimpering as he rode me.

If my master’s slow, teasing strokes were maddening to me, my own responses seemed to be as exciting to him. Each careful thrust was a little less controlled than the last, and his breath quickly started coming in short, heavy gasps. “A personal slave,” he muttered, his eyes squinted tightly closed, his claws sunk into my hips as he rocked himself in and out of me. “Trained to serve, made to serve…” The words became a mantra, a rhythm all their own, his shaft sinking home with every “serve,” as if to drive the word and the thought of it further into me with each thrust.

My mind was swimming, his scent and my need and the exquisite ache between my legs driving all thought from me. I rutted back against him as an animal would, pumping my hips back to meet his on every thrust. I whimpered, a soft keening forced out of me each time his met mine, followed by a shuddering moan as he withdrew again, only to meet my rump with his shaft over and over. My rhythms faltered, my need overriding my training. I wanted his seed within me. I needed to feel his release, and mine.

I had little enough to wait. The baron’s movements were becoming short and shallow, his knot grinding against my sex. A rising whine came from his muzzle, his movements growing short and erratic, and then with a few fast thrusts, he let out a howl and slammed himself against me, his shaft twitching and filling me with his release. He held me fast for a few desperate, needy seconds, then went back to thrusting, gasping as his flesh rubbed against mine, until he dragged a cry out of me, my body suddenly tensing under his as I came as well, gripping his cock within me as I shuddered beneath him.

For several seconds, we held still, each of us riding out the other’s pleasure. Then, in a tangle of limbs and sweaty fur, we collapsed against the bed, my master lying against my back, nuzzling into my ears. “Oh, what a gift,” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. “I think you’ll do.”

“I… I’m glad… I please you… master,” I panted, trying to force air back into my lungs.

The baron lay atop me for a few more seconds, then withdrew and stood. “There’s fresh linens in the closet in the short hall opposite the bedroom, and a small stack of towels for the baths. See that the bed is made when I get back.” He fumbled for his discarded breeches, then stepped into them, ignoring the sticky mess that clung to his sheath and shaft. “I’ll fetch you for dinner; make sure you’re presentable. I’ll expect you at my side.” Then, with that, he grabbed his clothes from the pile in which he’d left them and stepped out of the room, leaving me to sop his release out of my fur.