RedTails : A Night Out, A Night In – Chapter 10

RedTails: Awakenings

A Night Out, A Night In

By

Scarletdown

Chapter X : Ringtail Ale

Hot Summer Nights was already getting busy when Karma, Thissle, Shaasta, and Trikks passed through its doors. Floor girls and boys bustled about ferrying succulent platters of meats, breads, and steaming vegetables and serving up a wide variety of exotic drinks to the hungry guests scattered about the central dining room. A band of five musicians and dancers, an eclectic group consisting of a salt and pepper haired male Dwarf, an Elven lad, a youthful-looking Furling Fox boy, and two adult Ornith ducks, were on the stage, getting in some last minute practice before show time. A small party of four Furlings; one Ocelot girl, one humble-looking little male Chinchilla, and two Raccoons; male and female, were already a little tipsy and attempting to dance to the band’s rehearsal tunes. At tables in two different corners of the room, sat the obligatory mysterious cloaked figures; one of whom was quietly observing the goings on here, and the other already engaged in what was most likely conversation of gravest concern to a party of six adventurers, also cloaked and hooded.

Trikks scanned the room until she was spotted by one of the Floor boys, a handsome Furling Deer, dressed in a leather collar and a black and white lace apron, which was really intended for the Floor girls. The apron was cinched around his waist with a narrow leather belt, from which hung the usual pouches and a wide round paddle at his right hip. A mane of dark red hair, dropping in graceful waves below his shoulders framed his pretty face, and a majestic pair of antlers, each with four sharp points protruded from between his long ears, adding an additional two feet to his otherwise five and a half foot stature. He gave a delighted smile when he saw the party of four lovely ladies, and trotted over on cloven-hoofed digitigrade legs to greet them.

“Trikks!” he said, picking up the Coyote in his arms and holding her tight while smothering her with kisses, “It’s about time you dined here again. You’ve been absent for far too long, m’lady.”

“Oh, Brannel,” she giggled, as he gently set her back down on her feet, “you sure know how to make a humble little artist feel welcome. As for my absence, I realized I was spending way too much here every week, just on your ass alone. So I decided to exile myself for a time from Hot Summer Nights before I could become a pathetic beggar girl.”

Brannel was grinning like a schoolboy, “Well, thanks for finally brightening our little establishment once more with your presence. And, I see you brought some new lady friends, and very lovely and boinkable lady friends at that, if I may be so bold.”

“These honeys are distinguished models,” Trikks replied, “and anything they order tonight is on me.”

“Distinguished models?” the deer repeated, “How long have you girls been modeling?”

Thissle stepped forward and posed seductively with one hand on her hip, “Oh, about fifteen minutes, I think. Hiyas, I’m Thissle.”

“Well, ’tis a pleasure to serve you, m’lady. You look like you are dressed for a bit of action this evening.” He brought her hand to his mouth, and gave it a friendly welcoming lick. So, you have been Ms. Trikks’ models for a whole fifteen minutes now, eh?”

Karma giggled and introduced herself, “Yeppers, that sounds about right, sir. I’m Karma.”

He repeated his welcoming gesture and smiled warmly; the Rabbit nearly lost herself in their host’s large dark eyes, “Are ye good karma or bad karma?”

She giggled again, “Is there a difference?”

The Deer gave her a sly look and tapped the paddle at his hip, “Bad karma earns you a touch of this; good karma, well, that also earns you a touch of this, but with less coin afterwards.”

“Well then, I will endeavor to strive for bad Karma, sir.”

“Oh, please don’t address me as sir, m’lady,” he touched his collar, “after all, I am merely a humble pleasure pet, much like your Elf here.” And with that he gave Shaasta a very thorough looking over.

Shaasta, blushing and smiling ever so coyly, assumed a variety of poses for her fellow pet’s viewing pleasure. She was thoroughly entranced by this charming buck. He was a pure delight to look at, and carried himself with a grace and pride that suggested that he had already spent several years as a loving but stern owner’s pleasure girl.

Brannel knelt behind her to admire the rosy glow on her bottom, “Ah, I see ye are no stranger to the paddle, little doe. And my, what a lovely beast mark you bear.” He gently ran his fingers around the outline of the shimmering silver brand that decorated her plush ass, then his fingers moved down to the rose she carried in her rear channel.

“Master Varo’s signature, so to speak. So, ye were just recently purchased from the Southern Rose. That can only mean ye are top of the line.” His hands pressed against the upper curves of her bottom, sliding down the soft southern hills and between her legs to caress her inner thighs. Then he rose to his feet, paced back around and stood towering over her, the scent of his interest in her filling the air about them, “Can ye speak, girl? Have ye a name?”

Now blushing even more, Shaasta finally had to avert her eyes from his hypnotic gaze, “Shaasta, sir,” she replied, “A Moors Elf from Kalthani I am.”

“Her name means Tender Hawk,” Karma offered.

“I am most delighted and enchanted to be in your presence, little Tender Hawk,” Brannel said. He wrapped an arm around her with his hand firmly gripping her delightful rear, bent her backwards, and planted his muzzle hard on her soft lips. “And since we are equals, you have no cause to call me sir. Now, you said that you are a Moors Elf?”

Shaasta nodded, “I am.”

“Ergo, you are a shapeshifter.”

She nodded again.

“I am confuzzled,” he confided to her, “You bear an ornithian name, yet you wear a feline tail. So are ye a sometimes hawk, or a sometimes kitty?”

“The tail belt is just a little bit of costume Karma and Thissle picked up for me earlier today. I transform into a hawk,” she replied.

“A very sexy one at that,” Thissle added.

He smiled sweetly, “Is there any other kind? I do hope that you will show off your feathered form here for us later tonight, if your handlers approve.”

She looked to Karma and Thissle. They just shrugged, nodded, and smiled. “I’ll be more than happy to spread my tailfeathers this evening.”

Trikks stepped in, “Sorry to interrupt this little group hug, kids, but can we continue our chatter from a seated position? My feet are dog tired, if you will pardon the pun, and I am absolutely ravenous.”

“By your leave, m’lady,” Brannel replied, performing first a graceful bow, followed by a graceful curtsy. “Please walk this way.”

He led them into the depths of Hot Summer Nights. Brannel’s stride was smooth and graceful, his wide hips swaying hypnotically back and forth with each step. The four ladies followed close behind, their stride matching the dreamy Deer’s. Thissle noticed a Furling Mouse gawking at them.

“What?” she said, “We always strut this way.”

Shaasta, as well as the others, couldn’t help but notice Brannel’s fully exposed bottom, very shapely and well toned. The white treasure trail spread from the inner thighs, covered the inner half of each spankable cheek, and fully up the underside of his short, teardrop-shaped tail, which was held proudly erect. Between his thighs, his treasures were clearly visible, a decent-sized fur covered sac and sheath, from which his maleness was partially protruding. The Elf girl felt her nether regions get warm and slightly damp as she imagined herself underneath this gorgeous buck, his large cock filling her while he rode her from behind. She guessed that Karma, Thissle, and most likely Trikks as well were thinking the same thoughts as she about Brannel, judging by the way their heads were down and their gazes focused on his ass and well endowed package. He was the perfect mixture of both masculine and feminine strength, power, sensuality, and grace. His mistress or master must have invested a tremendous amount of time and energy to produce such a fine pet.

Brannel brought them to a table close to the stage and dance floor. “This should do fine, m’ladies. Now remember, I am your humble servant at your beck and call tonight.”

The girls sat themselves down and Trikks smiled up at Brannel, “Second best seat in the house.”

“Oh, pardon my indiscretion.” the buck looked honestly chastened, “If you would prefer to sit elsewhere, just give the word.”

“You are such a dear. I can’t possibly take the best seat in the house, as that would require distracting you from your work.” The Coyote gave him a flirty wink and touched a paw to one of his muscular thighs.

“Yes,” he agreed, easily catching her meaning, “Mistress Ravenna would not be too happy about her devoted pet allowing you to monopolize his time on such a busy night.”

Trikks nodded understanding, “I would not want to be the one who causes you to have to take your breaks tonight on your hooves.”

“And likewise,” Brannel countered, “I would feel most saddened knowing that I was the reason your evening here was spent on your feet.”

They shared a laugh together, then Trikks placed a paw on the buck’s hand, “Speaking of your Mistress, where are Ravenna and the kits tonight? Both your mate and Anton are usually found out here on the floor.”

“They will all make their appearances later,” he replied. “Melody is down in our suite doing her homework, and Anton is in the kitchen helping his mother on the grill,” he smiled devilishly, “literally.”

Shaasta, Karma, and Thissle gave the buck a blank, worried stare. Finally, the Elf worked up the courage to ask the question they were all thinking, “His mother is on the grill? Isn’t that…well…dangerous?”

The Coyote and the Deer shared another laugh, “Don’t worry your pretty little bottom, girl,” Trikks reassured her, “They don’t serve up sentients here.” She turned back to Brannel.

“So I take it that you and your mate finally decided to unleash Ringtail Ale on the unsuspecting citizens of Mistport?”

The Deer gave an enthusiastic nod; a toothy grin parted his muzzle, “Our only regret is that we didn’t do it sooner.”

“It’s doing that well, eh?”

“A walloping success it is. ‘Tis so popular, we may need to recruit more vessels to keep up with the demand.” He stole a glance over at the slightly drunken dancing Furlings, “Two candidates right there,” he muttered, then fixed his gaze on the plush, muscular backside of the Ocelot girl, whose Chinchilla boyfriend was struggling to keep her steady on her feet, “Perhaps three, in fact.”

Trikks chuckled at the enterprising Deer, “But she isn’t a Ringtail, and ale may not be…”

“Yes, you’re right,” Brannel agreed, “Something a little higher class for the likes of her. Wine would suit that lovely creature better, perhaps an Azure Depths as the base instead of ale.”

“It will take a bit of experimenting, but that sounds like a good starting point,” the Coyote nodded, “And if it works out, I can draw up a label design for you and bottle it as Blue Rosette.”

“Brannel,” Karma interrupted. Her formerly worried stare was now a curious gaze.

The handsome buck knelt on one knee beside her and looked into her eyes, “Let me guess, little boink bunny, you wish to know what the ‘ell Trikks and I are going on about. You wish to know what exactly is Ringtail Ale, and why we are discussing those tipsy Furlings over there and what type of wine would go best with the Ocelot.”

The Rabbit nodded her pretty head and Brannel rose to his hooves to educate this sweet trio of confused ladies. “Ringtail Ale,” he began, sounding like a tour guide at a brewery, “is the most exotic drink known on and beneath the face of all Niath. What is it that makes a simple ale the most covetable delight for the highly refined tastes of Mistport’s citizens? What exotic and mysterious ingredient can turn such a common drink into a rare and highly valued rage?”

Trikks had a grin on her muzzle that bore a hint of naughtiness, and an even naughtier gleam in her eyes. “Rare? Don’t you mean rear?”

Brannel boldly brandished his paddle at the Coyote, “M’lady, please do not spoil the moment, lest I turn you over my lap and take pleasure in warming your delicious bottom.”

“Do so, and you would have to surrender five silvers under my tail,” she shot back. “I am no cheap slut. At least, I am not cheap.”

He returned the board of persuasion to its rightful place on his belt. “Right then, as I was about to say, what makes Ringtail Ale such an exotic and rear, I mean rare treat is the naughty means by which it is prepared.”

“And if I am interpreting the current intoxicating scent of the arousal which thoughts of Ringtail Ale bring to the two of you,” Karma surmised, “then the means by which your highly revered drink is mixed must be one which greatly pleases the Order of the Mink.” Her long ears were lying flat against her back, and a sweet moistness began to mat the fur between her thighs. The Coyote and Deer’s subtle lust was proving contagious.

“It is indeed a process worthy of the Order of the Mink,” Trikks agreed.

“Except,” Brannel corrected them, “this concoction, I am proud to say, is fully a creation from the Order of the Twilight Mists, devised and perfected by Mistress Ravenna and myself.”

“Ringtail Ale, as I have mentioned, is prepared in a most unique manner. After its initial brewing, the ale is brewed a second time, only this time it is brewed inside a specially prepared Furling Raccoon over a gehennite flame, then chilled on a block of Beastlands glacier ice and served cold.”

“Wait a minute,” Shaasta interrupted, “You are saying that we would be drinking from a Raccoon’s butt?” She looked rather disturbed.

“No,” Brannel replied, “you would be drinking from a mug. The ale is only brewed in a Raccoon’s butt.”

Thissle pouted, “Aw, ’tis a pity. I would have loved to try it straight from the source.”

“I do recommend you try it from a mug first,” the Deer advised her, “then if you like it enough, I can bring Mistress Ravenna out here so that you can tap the keg.”

“Sounds sensible to me,” Karma agreed.

Shaasta still looked confused and shocked, “We would be drinking from a Raccoon’s butt?” she repeated.

Brannel gently placed a hand beneath the Elf’s chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze, “I can assure you, little boink bunny, there is no cause for concern. My mate’s delightful butt gets properly cleansed with gehennite on a regular basis.”

Karma cocked her head to one side and gave the Elf a puzzled gaze, “Shaasta, what’s wrong with you tonight? You’ve never been this squeamish about anything before.”

Shaasta smiled sheepishly, “Doesn’t the idea of using someone else’s ass as a serving vessel seem, I don’t know, a little out there?”

“Well, if that is what your reservations are about, I would be most happy to brew some Elf Bottom Ale just for you,” Brannel offered, “then it wouldn’t be someone else’s ass you are being served from.”

Shaasta blushed and thought back to right before Frelic boinked her. He had slipped his fingers up her butt and had her taste her own flavor. She had to admit to herself that she did indeed taste good.

“Haven’t you ever taildived anyone?” Thissle asked her, “I mean, as notorious as you and Hansen are, and always willing to experience new pleasures, I would assume that your tongue has been under his tail at least once.”

“Well actually, I haven’t,” Shaasta confessed, “However, he has tasted me a few times.”

“We know,” Karma replied. “He told us about how he had his tongue up your ass to prepare you for boinking in your hawk form shortly before you two were captured.”

Thissle smiled innocently at the blushing Elf, “And after hearing his critique, I want to taste your bird butt one of these days. Now come on, girl. Don’t tell us your month chained up at the pet shop drove away your great sense of adventure.”

Shaasta sighed in resignation, “Okay, you win. I’ll give it a shot.”

Trikks happily clapped her paws together, “Oh, very good, very good indeed. You won’t regret this at all.” She smiled up at Brannel, “Four mugs of Ringtail Ale, please.”

The Deer gave a graceful curtsy, “Four Ringtails it is then. I will return shortly.” He took his leave of the giggle of girls and sauntered off to the kitchen. His long ears twitched as he felt the gaze of four sets of eyes burning into his wide, furry behind as it swayed back and forth like a pendulum with each graceful step.

Karma chirred softly, her ears down flat against her back, “Do you think he might be willing to do Whitetail Ale later tonight?”

Trikks smiled at the bunny, “He might, Rabbit, he might. You can always ask him. I’m sure he would be quite willing to accommodate you.”

“With him,” Thissle said, “I’d be willing to forgo the ale part,” she licked her soft lips as she envisioned the flavor of venison.

Karma touched her paw to the money pouch on her belt. “Ms. Trikks, how much should we tip Brannel when he comes back?”

The Coyote thought for a moment, “For four Ringtail Ales, one silver piece should be about right.”

The Rabbit reached into her pouch and withdrew five copper coins, “So five coppers each then.”

“Oh, put away yer money, bunny,” Trikks said, “Remember, it’s all on me tonight.”

Karma shook her head, “That doesn’t include tips. You aren’t getting that handsome buck’s lovely bottom all to yourself.”

“Neither are you, Rabbit,” Thissle added. She now had a stack of five coppers in front of her as well. She pulled out another five and set them on the table in front of Shaasta, since the Elf wasn’t carrying anything save for the tips she received earlier from the sailor bird and Trikks.

“Thank-you, Thissle,” Shaasta said, “I would have felt bad about not being able to contribute, since I lost all my coin when me and Hansen were taken.”

“I brought plenty for the both of us,” Thissle assured her.

Trikks laughed as she looked over the three stacks of copper pieces on the table. She reached into her own pouch and also made a stack of coin in front of her. “I must say, that poor Deer is going to be carrying a genuine buttload of money tonight, twenty from us already, and that is in addition to whatever he had earned before we showed up.”

Shaasta giggled, “That would explain his girlish stride. I mean, how can you not have such a pronounced hip swish when your bottom is stuffed?”

Trikks leaned forward, “I’ll let you in on a secret,” she said in a mock conspiratorial whisper, “That is Brannel’s natural stride. Ravenna likes her buck to be a bit girly. She trained him that way back when he was her apprentice.” She put her paw into the large bowl in the middle of the table and took a handful of mixed tropical nuts, which she popped into her mouth. Shaasta and Thissle followed suit.

Karma, on the other hand, plucked a violet from the bouquet of various flowers in the vase beside the nut bowl and nibbled on the fragrant petals, “That would explain the black and white lacy apron then. He does look awfully cute in that.”

Trikks swallowed and took another pawful of nuts, “He does indeed.”

Finished with rehearsal, the band on the stage started its first number for the evening, a haunting, ethereal piece that was equally suitable for a fast or slow dance. The Coyote stood and stretched, then scanned the room until her gaze landed on a handsome Ornith Eagle, “Well ladies, since it will be a few minutes before Brannel returns, what say we work up our thirsts?”

Thissle, Karma, and Shaasta watched the Coyote saunter across the floor towards the Eagle, every step emanating seductive feminine grace. When she reached her objective, Trikks ran a paw down the Ornith’s neck and feathery chest, then commandeered his lap, perching her furry bottom on one muscular thigh. He gently ran sharp taloned fingers over her rump, and the two quietly exchanged some words. The girls were unable to make out what they were saying, but apparently the Coyote had successfully charmed the Eagle. Together, they arose, and with an arm and a wing draped around her, he led Trikks out to the dance floor.

Thissle rose to her feet and turned her gaze towards the hooded figure in the corner. He had been joined by a Furling Fox who was clad in a short green tunic and leather belt, the typical uniform of a wizard’s or acolyte’s apprentice. The two were quietly sipping on chalices filled with a translucent jade green wine while coolly surveying the growing crowd. “Well, let’s get to work, girls. We can’t let that silly ‘yote outdo us.”

“The Fox is mine,” claimed Karma as she and Thissle padded over to the pair in the corner.

Shaasta, now alone at the table, scanned the room, seeking a suitable partner. There were so many to choose from, so many species represented here tonight, that the Elf found it difficult to decide where to begin. She considered the Chinchilla she had noticed earlier, but quickly dismissed that notion. He and his companions had returned to the table and he was now comfortably seated on his Ocelot girlfriend’s lap. Trying to borrow him for a dance, she determined, would involve a little too much peril.

The hairless fellow seated at the next table over from the Ocelot, Chinchilla, and Raccoons looked promising. He was a giant of a man, though not fat by any definition; his mass was obviously the result of years of hard labor such as heavy lifting or working one of the oars of a Tameran longboat. Sporting lightweight buckskin pants and a matching sleeveless top which showcased his massive sun kissed shoulders and arms, he divided his attention between the large stein in his left hand, the smoldering pipe in his right, and the wide assortment of lovely ladies gracing the dance floor. Occasionally, he would turn to his companions to share a comment or short tale, and a hearty laugh.

As she looked him over, Shaasta envisioned the feel of the big man’s arms around her, holding her close to him while his powerful hands caressed and kneaded and played with her bottom. She also imagined the feel of his stiff cock nested in her tight, moist sex, while his thick fingers probed deep up her ass. In a flash of pure animal desire, all lingering traces of indecision vanished from her mind.

Shaasta rose to her feet and took a deep breath. The gentle touch of a soft, webbed paw on her bare shoulder coupled with the whisper of an equally gentle and soft voice behind her caused her to halt. She turned around to find herself gazing into the large brown eyes of a Furling River Otter. He was a cute one for certain, as was typical of his species, and his eyes reflected an innate cheerfulness. Dressed in naught but a red cotton vest, Shaasta recognized this Furling as the pastry vendor she had flirted at during the trek to Hot Summer Nights.

“M’lady,” he said. A deep shyness was clearly evident in his voice, “If you are not otherwise occupied, might you honor me with this dance?” He averted his gaze to the floor and a light crimson blush was visible through the white fur of his cheeks.

Shaasta took one last look over at the big guy she had originally set her sights on. “I’ll do him later,” she thought to herself, “The night is still young, and there is plenty of Elf to share.”

She placed a hand under the Otter’s chin, brought his gaze back up to meet hers, and gave him her warmest smile, “The honor would be mine, Water Rat. Come, let’s set the floor ablaze.” She took his paw in her hand and led him through the crowd out to the dance floor under the withering gazes of countless other guys and some girls who watched with envy, envy at the Furling Otter who, by a stroke of fortune, was graced with the company and attention of a tender, nymphly, naked Elf lass.

“Fast or slow?” the Otter asked, “This particular piece is suitable for either.”

“Let’s do it slow to start, “Shaasta purred. She put her arms around his waist; he followed suit, placing his paws on her lower back, and Otter and Elf glided together around the floor.

“I must admit, m’lady, I am not the most graceful of dancers,” the Furling advised her.

Shaasta replied with an understanding smile and friendly reassuring laugh, “You have no cause for shame. You are doing no worse and many times better than most everyone else out here. And truth to tell, I am no ballroom swan myself.”

“Thank-you for the vote of confidence,” he chittered. He gave a timid smile, “and I must say, you are the loveliest and most graceful creature to ever brighten the dance floor, m’lady. Though I dare not let my beloved mate ever hear me say that, lest she warm my bottom until even thinking of sitting down would be painful.”

“Please, call me Shaasta. As you should be able to tell by my attire, such a noble address is far above my humble status.”

The Otter nodded understanding, “Aye, m’lady Shaasta. I was wondering about your lack of clothing. ‘Tis rather uncommon outside of one of the Order of the Mink’s Lodges for those not blessed with fur or feathers to parade about skyclad, save for slaves and pets.”

“And a pet is what I am, as of this afternoon. I must admit, however; it is taking me some time to adjust to this lifestyle, what with my naked body on display for all the world to see. I feel as if I could drop dead of embarrassment at any time, and doubly so when my bare bottom is showing the fiery blush from a paddling.”

“I do believe that you will eventually grow comfortable with and even take great pride in your nakedness, m’lady,” he predicted. And echoing Shaasta’s previous words, he added, “And take heart. You most certainly have no cause for shame.”

One webbed paw timidly slid downwards, “May I, Shaasta?”

She blushed and nodded, “But of course, Water Rat. My butt was made to be used and enjoyed.”

Now that he had the Elf’s blessing, he moved both paws down and took a firm grip on her bottom, gently kneading her soft southern flesh with his fingers. Shaasta did the same for him, causing an embarrassed smile to cross his muzzle. They closed the half arm’s length gap between them so that their bodies were pressed together as one. Her head rested on his shoulder, and the Otter’s rapidly stiffening cock lay along the length of the Elf’s bare mound.

“You do have a pretty bottom, Shaasta,” the Otter said as they swayed back and forth to the music. “And if you would take no offense at my saying so, I would very much enjoy seeing it get spanked, and I would enjoy even moreso having the honor of putting you over my lap and paddling your lovely bottom myself.”

Shaasta closed her eyes and purred seductively, forgetting to be embarrassed as she nuzzled her face against the Otter’s brawny shoulder and neck, basking in the sensuousness of his plush furry body against her bare flesh. “You may very well find both wishes granted before the night is gone,” she whispered in his ear.

Feeling his erection reach completion at her suggestion, she added, “Both wishes and more, unless you fear your mate’s wrath brought down upon your own bottom.”

The Otter chuckled and gave Shaasta a big musteline grin, “Oh, not at all, m’lady. My precious Issibel does not mind me sampling Niath’s finest treasures. And likewise, I do not mind her playing around, as we both know that no matter who we boink or how many, we will end the evening in each others’ arms.” His fingers found their way under Shaasta’s prosthetic tail and teasingly traced down the length of the crevasse formed by her nether cheeks.

“Issibel,” Shaasta repeated, “such a lovely name. I would guess that she is as pretty as her name sounds.” The girl gasped and shuddered at the caress of the Furling’s fingers teasing her aft vale. “And before we go any further, does the handsome Otter who is probing my south end have a name, or do I continue to call him Water Rat?”

“Oh, forgive my omission, m’lady,” he replied, looking genuinely chastened, “Twas a true oversight on my part. You may call me Benden. And ’tis true, Issibel is indeed a most enchanting Otterette. I am most fortunate to have her to share my bed with every night. She works here at Hot Summer Nights, so you should have the pleasure of meeting her later this evening, after her nightly cleansing is complete.” He gave a sharp gasp, which was followed by a brief moment of silence when the Elf’s fingers found his tight southern star and began probing his depths.

“Ah, so she is a dancer here, I presume?” Shaasta playfully wiggled her fingers around inside Benden’s ass, causing him to moan.

“Issibel is a serving girl,” he corrected her, “but all of the serving girls here, whether female or male, often earn some spare coin with their tails. Issibel is a favorite attraction here. On a good night, she can leave here with as much coin inside her as I make in three days pushing the pastry cart.”

“It sounds like you two have a pretty good thing going and the means for a comfortable life together. Do you have kits, or have you kept your mate on Tempspay?”

Benden smiled wistfully, “We have six young’uns,” he proudly revealed, “And three of them also now work here. They started two days ago and are putting in a couple hours every evening to earn their apprenticing fees so they can join Uptail Lodge.”

“Mistport’s chapter of The Order of the Mink,” Shaasta said.

“Yes. Our oldest boy, Denn, wants to become an acolyte. His sister, Faeth, is showing some aptitude for wizardry, and Tizz simply wants to be a Mink Dancer.”

“Do they lap dance here?”

“Denn and Faeth do. But I haven’t allowed Tizz to do more than simply be a serving girl and a lap sitter. However, we may allow her to dance tonight under her mother’s guidance. After all, she and Dizz are celebrating their tenth year today and she has been begging and pleading for us to allow her to dance like Faeth.” He sighed, “I suppose if she is going to be a Mink Dancer anyway, we should let her practice her growing talents. Better she do it under our supervision than for her to sneak off and practice in some seedy tavern where she could end up getting hurt or stolen by slavers.”

Shaasta nodded understanding, “It would make a nice little birthday present for her. So, will your kits be making an appearance here tonight as well?”

“They should be here shortly,” Benden replied, “I told them that we would be having a little birthday celebration here for the twins provided they finish their evening chores and after they put in their work time here. They should be showing up within the hour, unless they have been goofing off.” Benden’s fingers came to rest on the rose Shaasta was carrying, “Hello, what is this?”

Shaasta giggled and blushed, “That bit of silliness? That is merely a long-stem rose.”

“Is it pinned on, or is it…”

“It’s planted,” she replied before Benden could finish his question. “It’s the hallmark of the Southern Rose Pet Shop. Every pet Master Varo and Lilieblume sell receives a rose up her butt. Are you not familiar with the Southern Rose?”

Benden fingered the fragrant petals pressed against the Elf’s ass and shook his head, “Forgive my ignorance, m’lady, but my family is still fairly new to Mistport, and I have not yet become familiar with more than a small fraction of this lovely town’s little quirks and customs. So, the Southern Rose it’s called, hmm? ‘Tis a pretty clever trademark your Master Varo chose, a rose inserted into your southern star, making the flower a southern rose.” He paused to catch his breath, then winced as a passing thought struck him.

“Benden, are you okay?” Shaasta asked, “Am I hurting you somehow?”

“Not at all, m’lady,” he reassured her, “In fact, what you are doing beneath my tail feels most wonderful. You work magick with your fingers. I was merely concerned about you and your rose, specifically the matter of the thorns. I mean, is it not exceedingly dangerous to have those piercing you inside? And even if your aft channel has been properly swabbed with Unicorn salve first, would not the thorns still cause unfathomable agony up your butt?”

Shaasta laughed and ground her body hard against Benden’s, while working her fingers deeper up inside him, “There is no cause for alarm, silly Otter. Varo’s roses are thornless. Whether they are grown that way or Lilieblume clips the thorns off, they are perfectly safe.” She thrusted her bottom out for Benden, “Go ahead and remove it; see for yourself.”

Benden took a tender grip on the flower’s stem at the base of the bloom, and gently extracted the rose from the Elf’s butt and examined it closely, noting the raised nubs where the thorns used to be, “It has been clipped,” he announced. He ran the stem over his tongue, taking in the flavor of Elven naughtiness mingled with cinnamon, “You are most delicious, Shaasta. I would very much love to sample your ass further should we have the chance to retreat to more intimate surroundings later this evening.

He put the rose in the Elf’s hair, behind her left ear, “I presume you submit to gehennite cleansings on a regular basis?”

The Otter’s assessment of her nether charms as if he was judging wines at a fair caused Shaasta’s face to redden yet again. She nodded her head and briefly averted her eyes, “Aye, ’tis gehennite. We received weekly cleansings during our time at the Southern Rose. Master Varo says that just as no two snowflakes are alike, no two people have the exact identical flavor, and the netherwordly liquid fire properly brings out that flavor.”

“Your Master Varo sounds like a well-educated fellow,” Benden said, “I may have to expand my route soon so that I can service and visit his shop.”

“He is indeed quite knowledgeable about a great array of subjects,” Shaasta agreed, “Some of it he learned from his Halfling pet, but most of his knowledge and wisdom was accumulated during his years as an adventurer.”

“Aye, I often envy those who have taken up that lifestyle and let the world be their teacher.” The Otter sighed wistfully, “I do enjoy listening to the tales they often like to tell as they purchase my wares, and I have picked up on many lessons gleaned from their adventures and misadventures.”

“Well, I certainly have plenty of both that I can talk about.” Shaasta took a quick look around the room to see how her companions were faring. Thissle and her partner had returned to the corner table, where the Dragon girl was now sitting centered on his lap. Her back was against his chest, and her wide bottom was rubbing and grinding hard over his groin. Judging by the expression on his face and the way he was holding her, right hand pressed hard against her waist and the left hand down the front of her partially unlaced dress, the Elf guessed that Thissle was now fully and properly impaled on the man’s cock.

Karma and the Fox were burning up the dance floor. Like Thissle’s partner, the Fox was holding the rabbit from behind. His arms were wrapped snug around her and they swayed and ground in perfect unison to the beat of the music. He was obviously locked and knotted inside of Karma, as the back of her dress was partially hiked up and her eyes were partially closed, though Shaasta couldn’t tell whether Karma was being taken traditionally or up the ass.

Trikks was the most impressive of the three, “By the Mink,” Shaasta gasped, “there’s something you don’t see every day.”

Benden turned his head to see what Shaasta was going on about. The Coyote and Eagle had their arms wrapped tight around each other. His wings were spread and flapping slowly so that the two dancers were hovering a Halfling’s height off the floor. Trikks had an ecstatic expression on her muzzle, and her hips were bucking hard against the Ornith’s, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was in fact being fucked in mid-air.

“Ah, the Falcon and the Mink,” the Otter said, “That is actually a ritual dance, highly revered of course by…”

Shaasta interrupted him to complete the thought, “By the Order of the Mink, I presume?”

“Yes,” the Otter confirmed, “and by the Order of the Falcon as well, for that matter. The complete version is frequently practiced by both orders. It is said that many millenia ago when they were still mere mortals, Lord Azoral and his pet sister, Lady Inanna, coupled together in mid-air for three days and three nights non-stop in their Ornith Falcon and Furling Mink forms. Six months later, their first daughter, Lady Halanith, future Mistress of the Beastlands, was born.”

Shaasta was quite impressed, “Oh my! Three days of nonstop airborne boinking? That gives a whole new meaning to giving a flying fuck.”

“Actually,” Benden corrected her, “that is where the expression originated.”

“So then,” Shaasta said, “for one who has never led a life of adventure, how did you come upon this bit of lore?”

“As I said previously,” the Otter replied, “in my line of work, I hear many tales and pick up on many little tidbits of ancient history. In this case, my knowledge was gleaned from Zorahs himself,” he gestured towards the Eagle who was dancing above the crowd while fucking the Coyote girl.

“Last night, he demonstrated the Falcon and the Mink, the condensed version like they are doing now of course, three, no, four times.”

“Four flying fucks?” Shaasta exclaimed, “That bird must have legendary endurance.”

“That he does indeed,” Benden replied, “And ’tis no surprise either, considering he is, in fact, a high level acolyte in the Order of the Falcon. So anyway, he first took to the air with my Issibel and demonstrated how the dance was traditionally performed.”

“Except that they didn’t dance anywhere near three days and three nights.”

“Correct, they danced just long enough for them both to reach the summit of the Mink’s Mountain. No sooner had they landed and his cock was extracted from my mate, Zorahs gently wrapped his arms around Denn and showed how the Falcon and the Mink was performed when a boy takes on the role of the girl.” He gestured towards Karma and her Vulpine partner, who was still taking her from behind while swaying and grinding to the music.

“It was much like the way that Fox and Rabbit are dancing over there. Except, they were in the air and Zorahs’ cock was buried up my son’s ass of course.”

Shaasta solemnly nodded; her arousal was rapidly strengthening within her as Benden described the Eagle’s recent boinking spree, “Up the ass of course, and after he was finished with your boy?”

“After Denn’s bottom was filled with the Eagle’s seed, it was Faeth’s turn. He made the mistake of asking her which way she wanted to try it. She couldn’t decide, so she compromised, and Zorahs ended up taking her both ways.” Benden smiled and his eyes reflected a twinkle of pure fatherly pride.

“Such an amazing girl my daughter is. Just barely thirteen summers now and Faeth is already demonstrating talents on par with her mother. Denn is quite skilled with his assets as well, but Faeth is truly gifted and blessed beyond all expectations.”

“So then, she should earn her apprenticing fee in no time at all,” Shaasta guessed.

The Otter nodded his head several times, “That she will indeed,” he agreed. “In fact, last night she earned more copper, silver, and even gold than Issibel. By the time we went home, Faeth was carrying so much coin under her tail, she could barely walk. We were so proud of her, and little Dizz was jealous of her big sister because…”

The Otter’s chatter was abruptly silenced. Unable to resist the desire aching between her legs any longer, Shaasta subtley worked her hips against Benden’s, and without missing a beat, she impaled herself with one quick and smooth motion on the Otter’s thick, hard cock, taking his full length deep inside her sex.

Benden’s breath escaped him and his eyes nearly rolled back in his skull when his shaft was unexpectedly driven into and engulfed by the Elf’s feminine depths. She was so hot inside, and so tight that had he not known better, he would swear that he had just penetrated a tender-tail virgin.

“Shaasta,” he moaned, engaging in a mental struggle to prevent his loins from unloading his seed into her so soon, “this is a thousandfold greater than even I had anticipated.” His fingers again probed beneath Shaasta’s tail until he found that tight little opening where her southern rose had been planted. The tip of one finger teased around the rim, while a second finger gently caressed and pressed against the smooth spot between the Elf girl’s anus and cunt.

“Aw, sweet Otter,” Shaasta purred; her eyes were half closed and her hips were bucking hard against Benden, drawing him rapidly upwards towards the summit of the Mink’s Mountain, “you shame me with your tender words.” She was gradually working them back to her table, where she would take his lap and bring their dance to its climactic conclusion.

“But ’tis true, m’lady,” Benden swore. He was working as hard as the Elf, his hips gyrating and pounding against hers, perfectly synchronized with the band’s heavy drum beat.

“You present a great paradox, Elf,” he informed her, “Your moves out here are clearly those of a girl who has been to the Summit countless times. Yet inside, you are as a young maiden who is making her first climb.” His finger penetrated the Elf’s tight butthole, mingling with the coins she carried, and tickling the inner wall of her rear passage.

They reached the table. Shaasta removed her fingers from the Otter’s butt and guided him down onto her chair, all the wile keeping his pulsing cock nested to the hilt inside her. She sat facing him, her feet not quite touching the floor as she straddled his thighs, and her naked bottom traced wide circles around his lap.

She playfully rubbed her nose against his and touched her soft lips to his muzzle, “There is no paradox,” she claimed, “What you feel is one of the benefits of fucking an Elf. We don’t wear down like many other races do.” Since her explanation was absolutely true, she saw no need to mention the Pixie Salve Varo had treated her ass and cunt with before she left the Southern Rose.

“To the Fey Folk!” Benden toasted, despite his paws being too occupied with Elven tail to properly lift a drink, which he didn’t have anyway, “May they never vanish from the face of Niath.”

As the music crescendoed, Shaasta lowered herself back so that she was lying down along the length of the Otter’s legs. Her own buckskin-clad legs rose up along Benden’s arms and hooked over his shoulders. With the Elf in this position, he was forced to remove his fingers from her ass. The girl gasped as the coins inside her shifted to fill the space vacated by the Otter’s digits. The gasp became a soft moan when his webbed paws gently caressed and kneaded her smooth, bare inner thighs.

As she lay inverted on Benden’s lap, still writhing to the feral beat while the Otter’s cock continued to pound a counter rhythm inside her, Shaasta took note of the activities taking place around her. The music was nearing its climax, as were Thissle and her partner. The Dragon girl’s writhings on the man’s lap had reached a frenzied peak; he was holding her so tight and the grim expression on his face was so intense, there was no doubt that the lap dance had reached its orgasmic conclusion and his hot, sweet juices were now filling Thissle’s even hotter depths.

Karma and her partner had given up all pretense of actually dancing. Having returned to the corner where his companion and Thissle were squirming together as one, the Fox had the Rabbit simply bent over the table. The back of Karma’s buckskin minidress was hiked way up out of the way, and he was ramming her hard from behind. His groin slammed over and over against Karma’s wide, furry bottom and his long, hard cock thrust steadily in her sex, pumping in and out of her in sync with the beat of the music.

Soon, however, Fox and Bunny joined the other two atop the summit of the Mink’s Mountain. His thrusts inside her warm, slick depths came to an abrupt halt; he bent himself over Karma’s back and his jaws clamped down on her neck, not hard enough to harm her, but with sufficient strength to hold the Rabbit in place while he filled her aching cunt with his passion. Karma’s head was raised back as the Fox’s teeth pressed into her neck. Her eyes were closed tight and her mouth was open as she gasped for breath. Her wide hips bucked violently under his weight, and Shaasta could see the Bunny’s ass and thighs flex rhythmically, milking her partner’s juices from his loins.

Despite the blatant display of unbridled animal lust taking place at the corner table, the Fox and the Rabbit drew very little attention from the other revelers. Most of the crowd was fixated on Trikks and Zorahs squirming together in the middle of the room, high above the dance floor.

As they neared completion of the Falcon and the Mink, they lay horizontal in mid-air. The Coyote was violently thrashing about beneath the Eagle. His beak was gently nuzzling and pecking all over her neck, shoulders, and breasts. While one arm was wrapped securely around her waist, Zorahs’ other arm was under Trikks’ tail, his fist planted past the wrist up her ass, pumping hard in time with the rhythmic thrusts of his large cock buried in her tight cunt.

Shaasta pressed her ass hard against Benden and spread her arms out. The moment for her big finishing move had finally arrived. She swayed back and forth like a snake, then raised her right leg off the Otter’s shoulder. The other leg came up and pressed against the back of her thigh, and the Elf performed a graceful one hundred eighty degree roll so that she was now lying face-down on Benden’s lap with her arms wrapped around his lower legs, her thighs hugging his hips, and her luscious bare ass gyrating and shaking teasingly in the air.

As expected, Shaasta heard Benden moan, felt his webbed paws grasp her bottom and begin playing it like a drum with quick, stinging swats, and finally felt the much anticipated sticky warmth of his seed filling her sex. The pulsing of the Otter’s cock as it squirted his life juices into her pushed Shaasta over the edge. The fiery kiss of orgasm rippled through her sweet body, and the Elf’s gyrations and writhings grew more frenzied. This drew Benden even further into the seething furnace of pure animal passion.

His orgasm reaching its fevered climax, Benden took a powerful two-handed grip on Shaasta’s bottom, his claws digging hard into her soft flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to send needles of sweet pain coursing through the Elf’s backside and drive her deeper into the flaming abyss. His paws forcefully spread Shaasta’s nether cheeks apart, exposing her beautiful little southern star. With the agility and flexibility that his species was famous for, the Otter bent forward and buried his face in the squirming girl’s butt; his tongue penetrated her tight treasure hole, thoroughly moistening her rear passage.

He lingered for a full half minute in Shaasta’s bottom, savoring the decadent flavor of her cinnamon naughtiness before finally coming up for air. Sitting upright once more, he reached into an inner pocket in his vest and produced not one, but two large gold coins. He inserted them one at a time into Shaasta, pushing them as deep as he could up her butt, to join the silver and copper coins she was already carrying.

The Elf’s writhings were starting to wane, so Benden put his arms around her and gently pulled her up back to a seated position on his lap. Her back was pressed against his chest and her cunt was still impaled on his cock, which remained erect inside her. He tenderly caressed and played with Shaasta’s hips and her soft, yet subtly muscular bare thighs and playfully nuzzled and nipped at her neck while they quietly basked in the afterglow of their shared passion.

“M’lady,” Benden purred in her ear, “that was truly one of the finest couplings I have ever had the fortune to experience. That final move was most amazing. Never have I seen a dancer perform such a trick. You should teach that one to Denn and Faeth one of these times.”

Shaasta giggled and rested her head on his shoulder, “Truth be known, that was the first time I had ever attempted such a feat.”

His paws glided down her hips and caressed her inner thighs, eliciting a shudder of pleasure from the Elf, “Well you most certainly pleased and impressed this Otter tonight. And if the sweet lady would pardon my brashness, I must also declare that your bottom is one of the most wonderful I have ever tasted.”

She sighed and blushed again, then whispered in his ear, “No pardoning is required, love. And I would like to take you up on your offer before the night is finished. If we can find a more intimate place to retire to, ye may indulge your decadence and sample my naughtiness in much greater depth.”

“If you two need a quiet place to escape to, Ravenna and I have a suite downstairs that you can use.” Startled by the unexpected interruption, Shaasta and Benden looked up to see Brannel standing over them. Accompanying the Buck was a cute, perky Otter girl. She was dressed in nothing but a short, lacy, black and white apron identical to the one Brannel wore, and she was carrying a tray with four frosty mugs of ale.

“Oh, Brannel!” Shaasta said, “You startled me real good there. I didn’t hear you arrive.”

The Deer laughed and patted the Elf’s thigh, “What with this rowdy lot here tonight,” he gestured towards the crowd out on the floor cheering Zorahs and Trikks along, “stealth is no challenge even for the most heavy footed. Anyway, your drinks are here and ready. Issibel, if you would?” He smiled at the Otter who was waiting quietly behind him. She set the tray down and dispensed a mug to each place setting.

“Issibel?” Shaasta repeated the girl’s name and glanced at Benden, whose eyes were transfixed on the wide, plush backside of the Otterette as she served, “This sweet little creature is your precious mate you have been telling me about?”

“In the fur,” Benden replied and commenced introductions, “Shaasta, this is my lovely Issibel. Issibel, this is Shaasta; she just finished performing the second best lap dance I have ever known.”

Issibel smiled at Shaasta, then turned to her mate, “Did you fuck her?”

Brannel smiled warmly at Shaasta, “Aw look. The Elf is blushing again.”

“Yeppers, you fucked her,” Issibel concluded.

“Shaasta tends to blush a lot,” Benden explained, giving her rump an affectionate pat. “It is so cute when her face turns red like that.”

“And when her lovely bottom has been properly paddled, the blush in her aft end complements the blush in her face quite well,” the Deer added.

Issibel padded over to the Elf and pressed her muzzle to her lips, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Shaasta,” she said. Her voice was soft and childlike, “I trust ye are keeping my dear mate in line?” She gave Benden a playful smack on the flank, and he returned the favor with a firm swat on Issibel’s wide, furry rump.

“No worries, m’lady,” Shaasta assured her, “Benden has been a perfect gentlefur thus far.”

Issibel pressed her muzzle to her mate’s and giggled, “Well, he’s perfect at least. But if he misbehaves too much, feel free to put him over your lap and put that lovely paddle there to proper use on his cute bottom.” She reverently patted Thissle’s apprentice’s paddle which was lying on the table.

This time, it was Benden’s turn to blush, “If she does, would I have to coin her, or would she have to coin me?”

Brannel shrugged, “That is a difficult question best left to the Mink’s High Sages on Kamanawannaleia. But I would wager to say that who coins who would depends on which of you enjoys the paddling the most.”

“So then,” Benden said, putting his paw under Issibel’s tail and slipping a finger up her butt, “speaking of sore bottoms, how was your cleansing tonight, love?”

“I’m still a bit tender inside,” she replied, “and Anton had a moment of clumsiness. He accidentally dripped a little bit of gehennite on my rump and thighs.” She reached behind herself and gingerly rubbed her ass as she recalled the experience.

“Fortunately, he was quick enough with the Beastlands ice to put the flames out before they could spread and make me a Fire Maiden.”

“I do wish to apologize again for that incident,” Brannel said, giving Issibel’s rump a squeeze, “I have seen to it that my son will never make that mistake again.”

“I do appreciate you thoroughly paddling his bottom for his error,” the Otter girl replied, “but I still think the other part of his disciplining is rather harsh for what amounted to naught more than a temporarily superheated bottom.”

Benden cocked his head to one side and gave the Buck a curious gaze, “What did you do to Anton after you spanked him, that even my own dear mate would find too severe?”

“First, I must remind you that we are of the Order of the Twilight Mists,” Brannel explained. “When it comes to instilling discipline, we make the Minks look like the Order of the Cute Little Pink Fluffy Bunnies. We do not do anything half-assed. When punishment is decreed, it is carried out in full force so that there is no doubt in the recipient’s mind that she is indeed being punished.” He took his paddle off his belt and gave his own muscular rump a hard swat for emphasis.

Having some glimmer of an idea where this was going, Shaasta gave her bottom a sympathetic rub and coaxed the Deer to continue, “So i take it that this was indeed terribly excruciating, most likely involving more pain administered on his rear?”

“In his rear is more accurate,” he corrected her, “To really drive the lesson home, my son is working the rest of the night with a long plug of gehennite up his butt.”

“Ooh, ouch,” Shaasta said, wincing again, “I bet that is going to affect his job performance a bit.”

“Just a little,” Brannel assured her, “Just like myself and Mistress Ravenna, Anton and Melody have learned to work under conditions of extreme discomfort, and I do mean extreme.”

Shaasta nodded and smirked, “Anton would really fall for Delilah then. She’s my Master’s other pet, and she is quite addicted to gehennite for some reason. Perhaps the next time we visit Mistport, she can join us.”

Benden removed his finger from his mate’s butt and put it in his mouth, “Mmm, most wonderful,” he purred, “I may have to take both you and Shaasta down to the Dungeon Suite tonight, love.”

“Oh! a three-way,” Issibel exclaimed, “We haven’t done that in ages. If time permits and if one of the others can fill in for me…”

Brannel put a hand on the Otter girl’s shoulder, “I’ll talk to Ravenna and see what we can arrange. Now, speaking of sore bottoms, I hope your girlfriends finish up with their clients soon. We wouldn’t want their drinks to get warm.”

Benden’s whiskers twitched at the mention of drinks, “Oh? What are ye drinking tonight?”

“It’s called Ringtail Ale,” Shaasta replied, “It’s brewed in a Furling Raccoon’s…”

“Yes yes, I know what Ringtail Ale is,” the Otter interrupted her, “I haven’t tried it yet myself, but I have heard that it is truly something to write home about.”

“Are you going to give it a shot tonight?” Brannel asked, “I can guarantee that you won’t regret it.”

“Benden shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head, “Okay, you twisted my tail. I figure that I have tasted plenty of behinds as it is, so why not go ahead and finally see if your mate’s ass is as tasty as everyone has been raving about?”

“You heard the order, Issibel,” Brannel said, “One mug of Ringtail Ale for your Otter.” He sent the girl on her way with a firm smack of his paddle on her furry butt, then he took his leave of Benden and Shaasta to go wait on other customers.

After Issibel disappeared back into the kitchen, Benden adjusted the Elf’s position on his lap so that she was perched sidesaddle, with her legs draped over his and her bare bottom exposed for the viewing pleasure of all passersby.

“So then, m’lady,” he said. One paw was once again idly playing with Shaasta’s butt, “if ye have no other plans for late tonight, would you and your companions honor us with your presence at Dizz and Tizz’s little birthday celebration?”

Shaasta nodded and smiled, “I’m all for it. But I will have to ask Thissle, Karma, and Trikks first. After all, I am just the pet, and tonight, Karma is the one in charge. However, I am pretty certain that they will accept your invitation.”

Benden happily clapped his paw on the Elf’s bottom, causing her to squirm playfully on his lap and renew his erection inside of her, “Oh, that is most wonderful. Dizz will especially be excited to meet and yakkity-yak with you, since you and her have some major interests in common.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well for starters, she is showing signs of submissiveness.”

Shaasta cocked her head to one side, “You mean Dizz is her brother’s pet sister as I am?”

Benden laughed and shook his head, “Pet sister? My, you are naughtier than I thought. But no, ’tis nothing like that, at least not yet. She does tend to idolize Denn though. And she is most definitely a daddy’s girl, always wanting to be with me when she isn’t with her big brother, and always quick to submit to the paddle when she knows that she has been a bad girl. Still, I can see her putting on a collar some day and dedicating her life to serving a loving but strict master.”

Shaasta smiled and nuzzled Benden’s neck again while his paw continued to idly toy with her rump, “With the right owner, it really isn’t a bad lifestyle to fall into.”

“Aye,” the Otter agreed, “so I have heard. In fact, Issibel and myself have a similar arrangement.”

“Really? Which one of you is the pet?”

“Odd as it may seem,” he replied, “we both are. When we became mates, we vowed to be submissive to each other. She keeps me in line and disciplines me as she deems necessary, and likewise, I keep her in line and discipline her as required, or as either of us desires.”

Shaasta nodded her head and caressed the edges of Benden’s ears, “It sounds like a good arrangement. But perhaps you should make it official and receive each other’s mark on your behinds.”

“You mean get branded?” Benden winced at the thought of his mate’s perfect bottom being marred by a hot iron.

“Yes. Both of you are pretty hot properties, and without a beastmark, any slaver who sets his eyes on your tails would take you down and collar you in an instant.”

“Do you really think so?”

“You bet your ass,” Shaasta replied. “In fact, I think those two over there might, at this very moment, be harboring thoughts of taking you.” She very subtly gestured in the direction of a Furling Bat and a Furling Tigress three tables over to their left. The two Furlings were definitely eyeing them and making occasional comments to each other, as if taking mental notes.

“Those two, eh? You really think they might be slavers?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Shaasta admitted, “but they do seem to carry the same air of dominance and authority that Master Varo has.”

“You have an outstanding sense of perception, Tender Hawk.” Shaasta turned her attention away from the two Furlings and looked up at Brannel, who had returned to check up on them.

“Those two are Syrinx and Sheena,” he said, giving the Bat, Tigress, and the collar-clad Furling Pony who just now joined them a friendly nod and smile. “They actually own the Hinterteil Pet Shop up north in Coralport. And that lovely Pony attending to them is Merriweather, their pet.”

Merriweather gave Brannel, Shaasta, and Benden a coy smile when she noticed their gaze, then prompted by the affectionate open-handed swat Syrinx planted on her soft but muscular rump, she knelt submissively beside her Master and awaited his command.

“So, what are they doing here in Mistport?” Shaasta asked, “Are they like spying on Master Varo and the Southern Rose or something?”

“Oh, not at all,” Brannel laughed. “No, Syrinx and Sheena are in town to work out some possible trades with Varo. And they have rented a couple suites from us here for themselves and their merchandise they brought down with them. I can introduce you to them if you wish.”

“Perhaps a bit later,” Shaasta replied.

“I’ll take a rain check on that,” Benden said, “I don’t want to risk them stealing me or anything.”

“Silly Otter,” the Deer chided him, “Syrinx and Sheena are respectable business folk, and highly revered in Coralport. They would never outright abduct anyone in order to increase their inventory.”

“Just like Master Varo and Lilieblume,” Shaasta added, “They are shop owners, not brigands or mercenary slavers.”

“Oh. Well, what do I know,” the Otter smiled sheepishly, “After all, I’m just a lowly pastry vendor.” He focused his gaze on the kneeling Pony girl, “They do have good taste in pets, I must admit.”

“They do indeed,” Brannel agreed, “Merriweather there is a real sweetheart. I played with her last night, and let me tell you, that girl can fuck like a rabbit in season. She was expensive, but well worth the price for a full night.”

Benden’s whiskers twitched, “Really? I may have to talk with her Master after all before the night is through, and see if he would let me use her for a bit.”

“If you have the coin, they will not say no,” Brannel assured him. “But just be wary. Syrinx may not steal victims to become pets, but he can be extremely persuasive when it comes to convincing worthy candidates to sell themselves to his shop. He even managed to talk Count Morland’s daughter into selling herself to him.”

“Who’s Count Morland?” Shaasta asked.

“He is the one who rules this region from Harrisson Fjord, a day’s journey south of Mistport, to just beyond Coralport in the north, and Granite Heights to the west.”

“And he didn’t mind his daughter selling herself into a life of servitude?” Benden asked.

“Of course he minded,” Brannel shot back, “However, since she had already received her beastmark and the papers had been signed by the time he got to her, there was nothing he could do except give her the most intense spanking she had ever suffered, with her new owners’ permission of course, and wish them the best together.”

“Okay,” Benden said, “if I do talk to Master Syrinx about boinking his pet, I will keep wary and watch my ass.”

“Because Syrinx and Sheena most certainly will be,” Brannel and Shaasta said in unison.

“Now on that note,” Brannel said, “I must take my leave of you again for a short time. I need to check on some of the preparations for the Count’s arrival tonight.”

“Count Morland is coming here tonight?” Shaasta asked.

“Indeed he is. His daughter is in town, and will be playing here tonight. Since she tends to keep a rather busy schedule, this is the ideal place for them to meet.” And with that, Brannel performed another dainty curtsy and sauntered back to the kitchen.

“Oh good,” Shaasta said, “It looks like Karma and Thissle are finally finished. She failed to stifle a chuckle as the Human and Fox extracted themselves from her companions’ posteriors, then bent the girls over, inserted a gold piece and a few silvers up their butts, and escorted them across the room back to their own table.

“It’s about bloody time,” the Elf jabbed at them, as the two newcomers sat down and Rabbit and Dragon perched themselves on their partners’ laps. “We were afraid your ales would get warm by the time you got back over here.”

Thissle shrugged and picked up her mug. She took a dainty sniff at its contents and smiled. “It was a long song,” she argued, then took a sip of the cold, pale liquid.

“So naturally, that made for a long dance,” Karma added. Like Thissle, she took a sniff at her drink, and followed it with a tentative sip. Her ears dropped back seductively against her back as the sweet exotic flavor spread over her tongue, “and we still finished before the music did.”

“What a strange definition you have of dancing, silly Rabbit,” Shaasta said, “I may have to look it up in a lexicon later, but I’m pretty sure that dancing is not synonymous with plain, outright fucking.”

Karma shrugged and stuck her tongue out at the Elf, “So what? Perhaps it is the same in some languages. If not, we can always petition whoever is in charge to change that.” She took a deeper sip of her drink, draining half the mug down her throat, “Amazing! This is like nothing I’ve ever tried before.”

Thissle nodded her head and giggled, “Yeah, who would have thought a Raccoon’s butt could taste so delightful?”

The Human whose lap Thissle was gracing gave a quizzical look, “Er, a Raccoon’s butt? Pardon my ignorance, but what are you drinking?”

Karma held up the mug for all to see, “It’s a house specialty here. They call it Ringtail Ale. It is pretty unique to say the least.”

“Yeah,” Thissle added, “freshly brewed inside the naughty end of a Furling Raccoon and chilled with Beastlands ice. Wanna sip, Arthur?”

The man shook his head and waved the mug away, “Uhm, no thanks. I’ll stick with the more traditional brews for now.

“Okay, suit yourself. But you are missing out on a real treat here,” she shrugged her shoulders and took another sip. “Mmmm, we need to get Master a few bottles of this.”

“I’d like to try it,” the Fox whose lap Karma decorated said, “I’ll try anything once, twice if I like it, more if I’m tied up.”

Karma handed her mug to him and he took a sampling. He nodded his head and licked his chops approvingly, “The girls are right, Master. You are missing out on a real treat. Though truth to tell, I would really like to try a Bunny brew of some sort sometime.”

Karma took her mug back and giggled, the insides of her ears reddening a bit as she momentarily averted her eyes, “Oh, Syrano. You really have a knack for making a girl blush.”

Shaasta, who had yet to try hers, hefted her mug and took a deep breath, “Well, bottoms up,” she toasted, and took a long pull. “I think you’re right, Thissle. Master would appreciate this. Hansen would like it as well.”

Thissle gave Shaasta a knowing smirk, “I’m always right. So anyway, where is Brannel at, and when is Trikks going to get her furry ass back over here?”

“I’m right here,” Brannel replied, as he once again made an appearance at their table. This time, Issibel had returned with him, with a rather large platter bearing a number of frosty mugs and steins, and plates of appetizers.

She set one mug in front of her mate, then presented her backside to him so he could insert the obligatory one silver for the drink and five coppers for the gratuity. “Thanks, love,” she said, also accepting an affectionate pat on the ass from Benden and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll chatter with you later. Got customers to serve, y’know.” And with that, she took her tray and padded away the room to deliver her orders, the swish in her gait a little more pronounced as the coins under her tail shifted and settled inside her.

“Hey, looks like your ‘Yote friend and her partner are finally finished with their demonstration,” Benden noted, after Issibel disappeared into the crowd.

A raucous cheer, punctuated by the noise of mugs banging on tables filled the room. The music had ended at last and Trikks and Zorahs had finally landed. The Eagle extracted himself from the Coyote, helped her to her feet, and the couple acknowledged the crowd with the usual bows and curtsies. As they worked their way through the throng, several revelers gave their thanks so that by the time they reached their table, both of them were carrying a considerable amount of coin under their tails. Trikks had a rather smug expression on her muzzle, while Zorahs looked a little embarrassed over the attention his posterior had suddenly received.

Zorahs took a seat at the table, and Trikks cuddled on his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder and gave a contented sigh, “Oh, Z, that was absolutely wonderful. I could feel the magick in the air and inside me.”

The Eagle replied with a soft laugh and gave Trikks a friendly squeeze on the rump, “That wasn’t magick inside you, m’lady,” he corrected her, “That was me inside you.”

She giggled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then picked up her mug, “Aw, ’tis just silly semantics, bird brain. Every time you fuck me, it is pure unbridled magick.” The Coyote took a long drink of her ale, then licked the foam off her muzzle.

“Brannel, m’boy,” she said, “Give my compliments to your mate, and especially to your mate’s butt. She makes one fine Ringtail Ale indeed.”

“That is what is on tap tonight?” Zorahs asked, “Bring me a double then, if you please.”

“There’s a fresh batch brewing now,” the Deer informed him, “It should be ready shortly.” He then turned to the other new arrivals who had joined the Coyote’s party, “And what would you two gentlemen like?”

“I’ll go with a Ringtail,” the Fox declared. “You should too, Master. It really is quite delightful.”

“It seems a strange concept,” the man replied, “but then again, I have imbibed potions brewed in more esoteric manners than this ale in my day. So why not?”

“Good choice, sir” Brannel said, “You won’t be disappointed.” He turned to leave, but Trikks stopped him.

“Brannel, I believe that you are forgetting something of great importance.” She held up a silver piece.

The Deer held out a hand to accept it, but the Coyote playfully slapped it away. “No, love. You should take your payment the way the other girls here take theirs.”

Brannel sighed and a soft reddening was visible through the white fluff of his cheeks. “As you wish, m’lady,” he conceded. He turned around and bent forward slightly, presenting his delicious-looking bottom to Trikks. The Coyote pressed the silver coin between Brannel’s nether cheeks, and in one smooth motion, pushed it well up inside his depths. The five coppers she had set aside for gratuity followed the silver one at a time.

“There, that wasn’t so bad now. Was it?” She smiled and gave Brannel’s bottom a firm smack with her paddle. “And the other’s also wish to contribute as well.”

Brannel, blushing even more now, as the people at neighboring tables were watching the payment proceedings with tremendous amusement, meekly went around the table and presented his rear to Thissle, Karma, and finally Shaasta, so that they could also insert their five coppers each as Trikks had done. Now, with his south end filled with coins, the Deer again took his leave of the party and returned once more to the kitchen, bearing and even more exaggerated swish in his stride than before.

“So then,” Trikks said, “I see our little party has grown a bit since that last dance. Will someone please make introductions?”

“Certainly, m’lady of the Mink.” The man whose lap Thissle decorated lowered his cowl to reveal a head of shoulder-length salt and pepper colored hair which framed a face that showed the early signs of middle age. Trikks guessed he had seen at least forty Summers already, perhaps a bit more.

He coaxed Thissle off his lap and gracefully rose to his feet. “I am Arthur,” he said, taking the Coyote’s paw in his hand and planting a polite kiss on her fingers, “a hermitic Wizard, initiated with the Order of the Wild Rose.”

Trikks gave Arthur her sweetest and most sincere smile, “Ah, ’tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Arthur of the Rose. I am Trikks, merely a humble artist and initiate in the Order of the Mink, as you had already correctly guessed. And who is this lovely young Voop?”

The Fox followed Arthur’s lead, gently put Karma off his lap, rose to his feet, and planted a gentle lick on the Coyote’s paw, “I’m Syrano, m’lady,” he replied, “I am Master Arthur’s apprentice. We have a small cottage deep in the woods two days’ journey east of here. Master thought it would be good for me to get some exposure to town life in order to help me appreciate the solitary lifestyle of our Order, so he brought me with him on his semi-annual expedition here to Mistport to stock up on various supplies.”

“Enough, Syrano,” Arthur interrupted, “No need to bore these fine ladies with our life stories now.” He took the Fox’s student paddle that hung from the lad’s belt, and applied a pair of firm warning swats under his tunic and tail, which silenced the now properly embarrassed apprentice.

Zorahs chuckled at the exchange between Arthur and Syrano, “Heh. Rather impetuous lad, eh?”

“He isn’t normally this chatty,” the wizard replied, “But after a couple glasses of Emerald Sea, it becomes rather difficult to shut him up.”

“It didn’t look too difficult for you,” Trikks commented, “a single well-placed smack under his tail seems to have done the job quite well.”

Syrano blushed and rubbed his bottom, then sat down again and pulled Karma back onto his lap.

“He’s learning,” Arthur said, “learning that silence can be platinum, and that too little silence can be crimson.”

“Yes,” Zorahs agreed, “Furlings do tend to learn those little lessons quickly,” he gave Trikks a look, then amended his statement, “at least, most do.”

Trikks huffed indignantly, “Well, I can’t help it. I am a people person, y’know. And I am no silly little apprentice either, never was, actually. I taught myself my trade and…” She was quickly silenced by a firm smack of a taloned hand on her rump. To conceal her brief moment of embarrassment, she turned and gave Syrinx and his little entourage a wave and friendly smile, then turned her attention to Elf and Otter.

“And Shaasta, who is your charming Otter friend?”

Before Shaasta could answer, Zorahs cut in, “This fellow is Benden, Pastry Vendor Extraordinaire. His mate and three of his kits started working here not long after you went into your self-imposed exile from Hot Summer Nights.”

The Otter hefted his mug and gave Trikks a friendly nod and toast, “An honor to meet you, m’lady. ‘Tis a fine group of friends you have chosen to drink with tonight.” He took a long pull of his Ringtail Ale, savoring Ravenna’s unique flavor as it spread over his tongue and down his throat. “And Zorahs, Faeth has not been able to stop talking about last night. She is hoping that before the night is done, you might be willing to join her for an encore performance of The Falcon and the Mink.”

“The honor would be mine,” Zorahs replied, “Your daughter is a natural on the dance floor, and she will rise high in the Mink’s ranks.”

“It’s Tizz that is going to be the dancer,” Benden corrected him, “Faeth is going to be a wizardess.”

“I know. However, all apprenticeships through Uptail Lodge, through any Order of the Mink Lodge for that matter, involve learning service skills.”

“Especially magick-oriented apprenticeships,” Trikks added, “There are countless spells, enchantments, and rituals our Order engages in that make use of what we like to call boink magick, as that is one of the most effective and efficient techniques for gathering the mana needed for the most powerful of spells.”

“Correct,” Zorahs agreed, “The Minks’ boink magick is every bit as powerful as pain magick, revered by the Order of the Falcon and the Order of the Twilight Mists. And truth to tell, quite often, the two forms are largely indistinguishable.”

Trikks nodded her head enthusiastically, “Yes yes. That is why the Minks and Falcons are such close and strong allies. Our rituals and techniques complement each other perfectly.”

“That’s truly no surprise if you think about it for a moment,” Arthur cut in, “After all, your respective Founding Immortals are siblings.”

Zorahs nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, you do have a point there. And likewise, sir, your Order’s Founding Immortal is their firstborn daughter. But now is not the time for lessons in ancient history. Now is the time to enjoy this wild hot Summer night here with sweet drink, succulent food, and passionate dancing.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Thissle said, raising her mug in a toast and draining the remains of her ale down her throat. “A pity my drink is gone. I am going to need another round.”

“Well then, it sounds like we returned just in time.” Brannel had rejoined the group once more. Accompanying him this time, and pushing a small wheeled table, was a most enchanting Furling Raccoon. Despite being dressed in naught but a pair of ornate bracers, one on her upper left arm, and one on her right ankle, she still carried herself with an air of dignity and grace.

She gave the group a coy smile and a curtsy, and introduced herself, “Welcome to our humble little inn. I am Ravenna, your hostess. I trust my beloved mate and pet here has been treating you well?”

“Indeed he has,” Shaasta replied, “Brannel has been a perfect gentlefur since our arrival.”

Ravenna ran a paw through her mane of waist-length, coal black hair, laughed, and slapped the Deer on his ass, “Ha! I seriously doubt that. But seriously, we are pleased to have you here of course, and especially you, Trikks.” The Raccoon padded over to the Coyote and leaned forward to plant a deep kiss solidly on her mouth.

“You have been sorely missed here. Hot Summer Nights has been a rather dull spot without your presence. Now, please introduce me to your drinking mates. Zorahs and Benden I know intimately, but what of these three lovely young ladies, the Fox, and the wizard?”

The group made their customary round of introductions, and then Ravenna got down to business. “Now, Brannel here tells me that you are pleased with our house specialty.”

“That’s right,” Thissle acknowledged, “Ringtail Ale is pure ambrosia. Never have I tasted such a wonderful, naughty concoction. In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting a few extra bottles of it as a pet warming present for Master Frelic.”

“She is quite right,” Trikks agreed, “I myself am now addicted to the wonderful flavor of your bottom. And I agree with Thissle. A few extra bottles would make the perfect gift for her Master, considering the circumstances, what with him being a new pet owner twice over.”

“And are you one of his pets, Thissle?” Ravenna asked.

Thissle giggled and shook her head, “Oh no. Not me. I’m one of his apprentices.” She gestured towards the Elf girl, “But Shaasta here, she is one of his.”

Ravenna gave Shaasta a thorough looking over and gave her an approving pat on the rump, “Your Master has good taste in pets. Had he not purchased you, I most likely would have next time I made the trip to the Southern Rose.”

Shaasta blushed and smiled timidly at the Raccoon, “Thank-you m’lady. Master is very good to me, though he does seem to have an obsession with keeping my bottom sore.”

“And that is just as it should be, because…Well, I’m sure you know the reasons.”

“Yes, I know, m’lady,” the Elf replied, “Master Varo and Lilieblume put heavy emphasis on that part of the training.”

“That’s the understatement of the ages,” Brannel muttered, “I know exactly what they put you through, because Mistress Ravenna had them train me.”

“And they did a damn good job too, Brannel,” Ravenna smirked, “I remember when you were my apprentice, you were a real pawful, and constantly getting into one form of trouble or another. Thankfully, Varo and Lilieblume were able to tame you and give you that extra little bit of discipline that for some reason, I was not able to manage.”

“Now,” she continued, “about your sudden addiction to Ringtail Ale. Brannel tells me that one of you was asking about possibly trying it fresh from the source?”

Thissle raised a hand, “That was me, m’lady. If the other patrons here would not be offended by the sight, I really would like to try it without the mug.”

Ravenna chuckled and patted the girl’s bare thigh, “No need to worry about this rowdy lot being offended, dear. I’m sure by now you have seen some of the debauchery that takes place beneath our roof,” She gave Zorahs a gentle nudge with her elbow, “and everyone who orders Ringtail Ale knows how it is made. We do not keep that a secret. In fact, I believe our customers here would very much enjoy seeing someone drink from the source.”

“And truth be known,” Brannel added, “this could very well start a new trend. It’s quite possible that once these folk see you drinking from my mate, others may want to give it a try.”

“As the drinker, or as the keg?” Karma asked.

“You make a good point there, Bunny,” Ravenna mused, “Brannel has talked frequently about recruiting willing tails to serve as vessels. This could possibly be the catalyst that starts it all. Now, let’s hurry up here. We both have other work to attend to.”

Ravenna pushed the little mobile table up next to Thissle and climbed up on top. Brannel held his mate’s tail up out of the way while she assumed the invite position, legs folded beneath her, face and chest pressed against the surface of the table, and her lovely plush bottom thrust up in the air.

With his free hand, the Deer removed the cork stopper from the Raccoon’s upturned butt, and took a thick, bamboo tube from a pocket in his apron. He offered the tube to Arthur, “Since you lead a hermitic lifestyle and only join civilization two to three times per year, good Wizard, I think you should have the honor of tapping the keg.”

The entire club went dead silent. All eyes were on the Deer, the Wizard, and the lovely Raccoon who was curled up on the little table with her ass thrust high in the air. Sure, many of those partying here tonight had tried Ringtail Ale, and were aware of how it was drawn. However, very few had ever had the privilege of actually witnessing the actual procedure, and they all stared in total fascination as if they were school kids about to witness one of their classmates getting spanked.

Arthur was blushing considerably, which was something he rarely ever did, but he graciously accepted Brannel’s invitation and took the bamboo tube from his host. The Wizard stood behind the vulnerably positioned Raccoon and looked down at her lovely assets. He couldn’t help but note how tightly clenched Ravenna’s southern star was. She looked like she was truly struggling to keep the ale she was carrying inside of her. Nervously, he lifted the tube and pressed its tip against her waiting opening. After a few seconds of tense hesitation, he then gently slid it up her rear passage until she told him to stop.

“Now, Thissle,” Brannel said, “Before you drink from my mate, we should first let the others be served properly.”

“Of course,” Thissle agreed.

The Deer produced a clean, empty mug from the shelf beneath the table, and presented it to Arthur. The Wizard held the mug beneath the end of the bamboo tube. Brannel administered a pair of hard swats with his paddle on his mate’s plush, upturned bottom, and Ravenna relaxed her aft end. A stream of fragrant amber flowed into the waiting mug from the tube protruding from the Raccoon’s butt.

During the past few days since Ravenna and Brannel first started marketing their special brew, the Raccoon had developed a knack for perfectly measuring a full serving despite not being able to see the proceedings. Before Arthur’s mug could overflow onto the serving table, Ravenna clenched her nether cheeks, and the flow of ale abruptly ended. Arthur held the mug up and sniffed at the contents. It really did smell quite pleasant and even rather arousing, though he was not certain whether that was due to the aroma itself or just the thought of how his drink was drawn.

He took a tentative sip, savoring the exotic flavor of the icy cold ale. He swallowed, and a smile crossed his face. “Indeed, this will be a treat to recall with fondness when we return home, and look forward to whenever we make our infrequent journeys to Mistport.”

Syrano gave him a rather smug grin and nodded his agreement, “See, Master? I told you you would not want to miss out on this bit of decadence.” He arose again and approached the Raccoon-adorned table, ready for his turn to be served.

Arthur laughed softly and took another sip, “Right you may be this time, laddie,” he said, “but mind that smugness, lest you fancy drinking and dining standing up.”

“Point taken, Master,” the Fox replied, protectively placing his paws over his soft rump. “Master, may we commission these fine folk to prepare a few bottles for us to bring home?”

Arthur placed a hand on Ravenna’s rear and pondered his student’s request, “I will think it over. Whether we do or not all depends on how you behave during tomorrow’s physical and how faithfully you mind your lessons.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Master,” Syrano promised, “Now, Master Brannel, may I please have a mug?”

The Deer handed a fresh mug to the Fox and again paddled Ravenna to signal her to relax. Syrano filled his mug and the process was repeated for Zorahs. Then it was time for Benden and the girls to have their second round.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Arthur said, “this round is on me.”

“Very well, sir,” Brannel replied, “But wait until the keg is empty, then you can pay my mate directly, as my bottom is already rather stuffed with coins from the last round and from other customers.”

Not heeding the Deer’s request, the young Furling Fox still went ahead and withdrew a full ten copper pieces from his money pouch and pushed them up under their host’s tail, which caused Brannel to blush yet again, “Now, sir,” he announced, “now you are fully stuffed with coin.”

Benden smiled and raised his mug in a toast to the kind Wizard, “I believe I can speak for everyone gathered around this table, when I offer a heartfelt thank-you for your kindness and generosity, Master Arthur.”

The rest of the group responded with a hearty “Hear hear,” and then drank to the Otter’s toast.

After taking a long sip, Thissle set her mug down on the table and padded over to stand behind Ravenna, “So now that everyone has been served, may I please try it from the source as promised?”

Brannel smiled warmly at the impatient girl and gave her shoulder a squeeze, “But of course, sweet child of Paramour. Though there is not much left inside my mate, what remains should be sufficient to satisfy your lust. Drink up.”

Thissle giggled at the Deer’s poetic flair and turned to face Ravenna’s delicious-looking behind. She placed her hands on the table and bent forward, providing Brannel and anyone else standing behind her a shameless peek at the lower curves of her own bare bottom, and closed her lips around the bamboo tube that was nestled tight inside the Furling Raccoon’s ass.

Despite the icy chill of the ale as it was siphoned from Ravenna’s depths, Thissle felt a delightful warmth course through her body, originating in her intimate regions and spreading outward. Sipping from a mug was all well and good, but when sucked directly from this sweet, living keg, Ravenna’s unique flavor was indescribable and many times more potent. As she finished the last drops and felt the tension on the straw, indicating that she had sucked the Raccoon dry, Thissle was on the verge of her second orgasm of the night.

She stood upright, and started to swoon. Brannel grabbed her by the arm and helped steady her. When the girl finally regained her senses, she sighed and rubbed herself under her skirt, “That…That was absolutely amazing!” she declared, “As soon as the first drops touched my tongue, I was nearly taken right to the summit of the Mink’s Mountain.”

Brannel removed the bamboo straw from Ravenna’s butt, licked the remaining traces of ale from it, and put it away in his apron pocket. “We haven’t figured out yet why that is, but the few times we have allowed anyone to drink directly like you did instead of from a mug, the effect was the same or greater.”

“If you need someone to research that phenomenon,” Trikks offered, “I would be quite willing to look into it. This sounds like it could be a very enjoyable assignment.”

“We will keep that in mind,” Ravenna replied. She gasped as she suddenly felt Thissle’s hand on her rump, and the other under her tail. Then the Raccoon moaned when the Dragon girl pushed a dozen chilled coins deep up her aft passage.

Following Thissle’s example, the others also paid their gratuities, including Syrano, despite him coining Brannel earlier. Finally, Arthur paid their tab for this round, topping off the large amounts of copper pieces Ravenna’s ass was carrying with two single silvers. Now feeling quite bottom heavy, the Raccoon sat up and her mate helped her to her feet, so that she could return to the kitchen, where Anton would extract and secure his mother’s recent earnings to make room for more.

Ravenna faced the crowed and performed a graceful curtsy, which was met with the resounding echoes of applause and the banging of mugs on tables. As she was about to leave, Issibel came sashaying back. Judging by her gait, it appeared as if she might be carrying a considerable amount of coin under her tail as well.

“Ravenna, Brannel,” the Otter girl sounded rather distraught, “We ‘ave a bit of a crisis on our paws now.”

“Really?” Ravenna asked, “What is the problem? Is one of our patrons being troublesome, or are we on the verge of a brawl?”

“No,” Issibel replied, “It’s nothing like that, though it could lead to a brawl if we are not quick to do something about it.”

“Well, out with it, girl,” Brannel prodded her, landing his paddle across her rump for emphasis, “What has you so worked up?”

“It’s the demonstration you just put on for the crowd,” she explained, “After seeing this Wizard here stick the straw up Ravenna’s butt and fill his mug, we are now getting swamped with orders for Ringtail Ale. I dunno if one Raccoon is enough to keep up with the demand from this thirsty lot though.”

“Don’t worry your lovely tail over this, love,” Ravenna reassured her. I know just the solution. One of them I am looking at right now even.”

Issibel looked confused. Her whiskers twitched nervously and she cocked her head to one side, “You mean me? But I’m no Ringtail.”

“Silly girl,” Brannel chuckled, “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you have a bottom every bit as delightful as Mistress Ravenna’s. We may not be able to call it Ringtail Ale, but that is merely a minor quibble.”

A light pink glow was visible beneath the white fluff on the Otter’s cheeks. She focused her gaze on a spot on the floor in front of her, then looked over at her mate for encouragement.

“Go ahead, love,” Benden agreed, “I think anyone here would be quite happy to drink from your depths.”

“Listen to him,” Ravenna said, “He is right. We need all the vessels we can get, if the demand is as great as you say it is.”

Issibel sighed and closed her eyes, “Okay, I’ll do it. ‘Tis better than allowing a riot to break out.”

“Most excellent,” Brannel replied, giving the girl an affectionate pat on her rump, “And when Denn and Faeth get here, I want them on keg detail as well.”

“Melody and Tizz can join in the fun too,” Ravenna suggested, “May as well have them all serving.”

Benden’s ears twitched at the mention of his daughter, “I don’t know about Tizz,” he said, “Do you really think she is ready for something like this?”

“Why not?” Shaasta replied, “It seems that not too long ago, you were considering allowing her to finally try lap dancing. If Tizz can do that, then why shouldn’t she be able to serve as a keg?”

Issibel smiled and stroked her mate’s muzzle, “Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll be with Tizz. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Very well,” Benden conceded, “Tizz can have her ass tapped tonight. Hopefully, she will get coined well for it though.”

“I’m sure she will,” Brannel assured him, “She may be a tender tail, but she is still a hot little lass.”

“So then, that makes six of us serving up our tails tonight. That still may not be enough to keep up with the demand though,” Ravenna mused. “I think we need to start tapping volunteers here. Perhaps if we offered free drinks and a free meal, plus letting them keep all their gratuities…”

“Leave that to me,” her mate declared, “For starters, I know of at least three, perhaps four that I can convince to offer their tails.” He gestured subtly in the direction of the Chinchilla, Ocelot, and pair of Raccoons he had sized up earlier. “Those Raccoons and the kitty are so juiced up, they should be an easy sell.”

Issibel added, “And I’ll talk to Selene and Marcko there on the stage. They should be pretty easy as well.”

Brannel turned his gaze to the band, which had not yet started up their next number, “Those are the two Ducks, I presume? Even sober, they should be even easier than the Chinchilla’s party. Typical Ornith kinkiness.”

“And how about you ladies?” Ravenna asked, turning to face Trikks and her companions, “Would any of you care to serve as vessels for us tonight?”

Shaasta, Karma, and Thissle all politely declined the invitation, “We are all flattered by your offer, m’lady,” Karma replied, “But right now, we would all prefer to just continue dining and dancing.”

“Perhaps later this evening we might,” Thissle suggested, “After all, we do have a little competition going on concerning whose tail will earn the most coin tonight.”

“Fine, I’ll check on you again later on then,” Ravenna agreed.

“I will hold off as well,” Trikks said, “Though I can pretty much guarantee that before the night is out, I will join in and let you serve from my depths.”

Brannel planted a kiss on the Coyote’s cheek, “I know you won’t disappoint us. That would not go over well with your Order at all if you declined.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Arthur interrupted, “But I would like for my apprentice to serve as a vessel as well, seeing as how you are not keeping this task exclusive to the ladies.”

“Master!” the young Fox started to protest. The wizard cut him off.

“Syrano, do not argue this matter. Remember, you are my apprentice. And as an apprentice, you have a social status equal to that of a pet. What your Master says, goes. Understand?”

Syrano sighed and bowed his head, “Aye, Master. I understand and apologize for my outburst. I will submit my tail for service. How bad can it be anyway, other than a bit of humiliation?”

Covertly, Brannel, Ravenna, Issibel, and Trikks exchanged knowing looks, then the Otterette sashayed over to the stage to talk to the Ducks, and Brannel took his leave of the group to go make his sales pitch to the little group of party animals. Ravenna offered an arm to Syrano and escorted him back to the kitchen to begin preparations for his service as one of her kegs, and to get herself refilled.

As predicted, Issibel had no trouble convincing the two Duck musicians to take a break from their instruments and volunteer some time to have their butts used as serving vessels. Less than a minute after the Otter approached them, they were following her back to the kitchen to join Ravenna and Syrano. Likewise, Brannel was having almost as easy a time with his marks. The Raccoons jumped immediately at the opportunity to earn free drinks. The Ocelot, not to be outdone by her ringtailed companions offered herself without the Deer even needing to ask. The Chinchilla was the only one of the four to decline the offer. On their way back to the kitchen, Brannel paused at Syrinx and Sheena’s table.

“Master Syrinx, Mistress Sheena,” he greeted them, “How are you finding your stay at our humble little establishment thus far?”

Syrinx stood up and spread his leathery wings, “We are most impressed with your hospitality, Brannel. This has been the most wonderful inn we have ever had the honor of staying at.” The Bat’s voice was soft and enchanting, sweet to the ears and soothing to the soul.

“Indeed,” Sheena purred, “When we return to Coralport, we will give Hot Summer Nights the highest recommendation to anyone who travels down this way.”

“And Brannel,” Syrinx said, “We would be quite honored should you and your clan ever choose to sell yourselves to us.”

“Thank-you, but no, Master Syrinx,” Brannel countered, “Ravenna, the kids, and myself are quite content with our lives here.”

“Ah, ’tis a pity,” the Tigress pouted, “The four of you would make such a fine hot property.” She gave him a playful but firm smack on his bottom.

“You’re flattery is noted and appreciated, m’lady,” Brannel replied. He rubbed his rump where Sheena had swatted him, “and I will relay your compliment to my mistress. Now, I do have one request to ask of you.”

The Bat nodded and motioned for him to continue, “Ask. We may be able to accommodate.”

“You saw our little demonstration of how Ringtail Ale is served, I presume?”

“Yes,” Syrinx answered, “It was a most titillating display of decadent naughtiness.”

“Well,” Brannel continued, “that display prompted a great demand, and we are in need of more tails to serve as vessels if we wish to fulfill all orders, and I was hoping that…”

“Say no more,” Syrinx interrupted, “Merriweather, accompany Brannel back to the kitchen. Tonight, the citizens of Mistport, and especially Count Morland when and if he arrives, will be drinking from your lovely bottom.”

“Your desires are my desires, Master,” Merriweather affirmed. The Pony girl rose to her hooves, and obediently presented herself to Brannel.

“Thank-you, Master Syrinx,” Brannel said, “There will be a generous payment for your pet’s services tonight in addition to any coin she receives under her tail. Additionally, for her service, Merriweather will drink and dine free this night. Now, fall in with the others, girl.” He prodded the Pony into place with two firm swats of his paddle on her soft, well-toned bottom.

“Come