Camellia watches with half-lidded eyes. “You’re so soft, muh-mistress. Your warmth and your fur and your caring mind—all of these things I could not have. Even in my most unsuccessful of missions, I could return to you with but a thought. But, with Ayda in tow, I could not. I had to wait to see you, to hear your voice. To touch you.”
“You wish to touch me?”
“Yes!” Camellia gasps.
“You may.”
Camellia steps forward, wrapping her arms around Jun, nuzzling against her chest, hands gripping her back. It is that dark outfit of hers—that sign of her power—that she touches, and not the fluffy body of the woman underneath, but still, she holds tight and does not let go.
“I’ve missed this,” Jun says, one hand wrapping around her, holding onto the small of her back.
But the other hand travels further downward, fingers walking along her body and between Camellia’s legs. They shall continue to demonstrate just how much she missed her beloved submissive.
As Jun’s hands claim and explore Camellia's familiar and beloved bodyscape, the kitsune’s mouth presses to the human’s. Sure enough, Camellia’s tension is all-but-gone, the desire to probe the mistress’s concerns forgotten as her own personal needs are met by the authority and dignity of the mistress’s strong and sure hold.
The submissive grinds against the fingers that curl up and find themselves more than teasing at her petals, her breath arriving at Jun’s pointed ears in soft yet high-pitched sighs.
“So eager,” Jun comments.
“Your hands are masterful, mistress. I could experience them as an l-lover; n-not a client is beyond my station.”
Jun’s nose nudges against Camellia’s cheeks. “Praise me all you want, but never disparage yourself, flower.” Her fingers speed up, the way that Camellia’s most sensitive region is well known to the kitsune. The intricacies of movement that stimulate the most unladylike of sounds are secrets long since unlocked by the dexterous movements of the vulpine beauty.
“I would never treat you like a client—like one of those people seeking release from their day-to-day with harsh words and harsher actions.”
She responds with a moan.
“After all, I know exactly what you love, my Flower. Why ruin you when I can appreciate you.”
“Aah…”
“Of course, what’s a playful punishment here or there?”
“Y… yes…”
“You succeeded in your mission, and the wait has made me desire you in more ways than I thought possible.”
She presses the woman against the wall, which was once the ceiling, and she growls with a dominant delight, but that is s rough as she slips down, licking over the woman’s neck.
Camellia’s eyes flutter back, her glasses so askew. She clings to her mistress, breathing in panting heaves. “I don’t deserve this!” she exclaims. “I deserve more punishment for my failures, for being chased by thieves, and for letting my guard down.”
With her mouth around Camellia’s throat, Mistress Jun lets out a yelp, a mix of a confused dog and a shocked chirp. She pulls from her sighing and whimpering submissive, narrowing her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘chased by thieves.’”
Camellia’s face turns red as her hands move away from Jun and press against the ceiling wall. She smiles with an impish grin and shakes her head. “I… I’m sorry. Maybe, we can discuss that during dinner?”
Jun scowls, but only for a moment. The next moment, she scoops her hand under her submissive’s legs and lifts her up. Camellia grabs onto her mistress, a full-on embrace of arms and legs as she loses all of her anchoring to the topsy-turvy world around her.
“Oh, you are being cheeky, aren’t you?” Jun says, squeezing her beloved flower, enjoying that warmth, even through her clothing.
“Something the matter, mistress?” Camellia asks, pouting. “It’s only fair, and I am pretty hungry.
“Hungry, are you?” the vixen says, leaning in and whispering these last few words into her ear. “Then, perhaps, I can find us something special to eat in due course and discuss the issues at play.”
That giggle from Camellia is the soft mattress of Jun’s own bed after a night of pleasuring others. While the bed of this room is off-limits to them in this current configuration, she makes the best of the situation by bringing herself to her knees and laying her Flower down upon the wall floor.
“Mistress, but I really am hungry. It has been a long and tiring, ah!”
Gloves trail up thighs, pushing them apart. The vulpine woman crawls up between those alabaster delights to get down to the Flower’s flower. The canid tongue slips out, lapping over the sensitive skin.
Camellia tilts her head back, hands stretching as they can to grip her mistress’s hood, gulping, and relenting, finally. “Ah, yes… w-well, ah…! The reason we were so delayed i-is that other wa-aaanted Ayda. T-they hired s-some professionaaalas to t-take her-eeer!”
Jun lifts up, growling, licking her lips. “So, there is someone else on the market. And they knew exactly where to find you, did they?” She strokes her chin, contemplating, while her other hand rubs Camellia, letting her sighs help her thought process.
“I… I don’t, mm, know. I was as… as careful as I could, mmm be, b-but, I didn’t expect to run into…. Tiiii-iiiik! Aaah!?”
Jun resumes her oral ministrations, her nose pressing against the most sensitive areas while her tongue plays and dances as it may. The mechanical action of bringing pleasure guides the mistress’s mind through the ideas. Is it possible that this is some elaborate trick engineered by Tik Tik? Could there be other forces at play that seek to sabotage the kobold?
It’s possible.
But it’s not something to concern herself with.
Sweet sounds rise from the warm, smooth body of her perfect flower, and all concerns going through Jun wafted away. There are no secrets when the two of them are together, and there are no fears or anxieties. It is just the mistress and her Flower, which is all that matters in the long run.
——
Back at the inn room, Ayda hungrily works her hands and mouth upon Tik Tik’s newly transformed tits, pulling herself away a moment, sitting upon the kobold with lust shining in those sad eyes.
“What Ayda gonna do?” Tik Tik asks, growling in anticipation, this magical mistress eager for the lewd explorations to come.
“I’m… I’m going to do the best I can!” Ayda says, grabbing that dress and lifting it over her head, even getting it over her horns without so much as a snag.
The kobold gasps at the wolpertinger’s presentation.
But she also gasps when the oddly heavy cube falls right upon her chest, glowing with arcane power.