The Fluffy Tail

The round table in the Yan family discussion hall had become a wreck of wine cups and empty jugs and scattered punishment cards, and the six people seated around it on their cushions looked every bit as ruined as the furniture, flushed and loose-limbed and glassy-eyed in the gold light of the lamps.

The air was thick with the smell of strong spirit wine and sweat and the sweet oils Yan Mei wore on her throat and wrists, and under all of it the heavier musk of bodies that had been aroused for hours without rest.

Outside the heavy doors the night insects sang in the mansion gardens, but inside the only music was the wet click of throats swallowing and the rustle of clothing that barely deserved the name. One lamp had burned low and spat in its oil, throwing jumping shadows across the beams.

The drinking game had already chewed through the polite edges of everyone present. There had been a spanking with Yan Mei's pussy lips on display for the whole room, and Xuan Wei swallowing Yan Tian's load in front of everyone, and Yan Mei rubbing her bare pussy along Elder Li's cock until he spilled across his own belly, and Han Fei eating his master's wife on the floor for five wet minutes while Yan Tian sat forbidden to touch anyone.

Each round had left the two women more exposed and the four men more honest about what they wanted, and now the wine in the jugs was lower and the eyes around the table were hotter, and the next card waited in the women's pack like a knife wrapped in silk.

Yan Tian sat at the head of the table with his robes hanging open at the chest and his eyes bright with wine. His punishment had expired with the last round, and his hands rested on his knees as though he had not yet remembered that he was allowed to use them again.

Beside him, Yan Mei shifted on her cushion with her thighs already slick, trying and failing to find a way to sit that would not press her bare pussy against the silk of the cushion, because her underwear still lay forgotten beside her where she had dropped it after the last card.

Across from them, Elder Xuan Wu wore the lazy smile of a man who had been dealing this particular deck for decades, and Xuan Wei laughed at something Han Fei had murmured into her ear, her own red scraps doing even less to cover her than Yan Mei's did.

Grand Elder Yan Li, whom the branch simply called Elder Li, sat with his wine cup forgotten in his hand and his gaze fixed on Yan Mei's breasts as if the rest of the room had ceased to exist. He had come to this house with revenge in his heart, revenge for his son and for twenty years of watching Yan Tian own what he wanted, and what he was being given instead was better than revenge, because it was access.

Two beautiful women and four men sat around that table, and all of them were drunk enough that the next round would not be polite.

The thin erotic outfit Xuan Wei had forced on Yan Mei clung to her mature body like a confession. Demonic-sect fashion made revealing dress into a cultural language rather than a scandal, but even by those standards the scraps Xuan Wei favoured were filthy poetry.

The cloth over Yan Mei's large breasts was little more than a pair of narrow panels held up by strings, and every breath made the heavy flesh swell against their edges while her nipples pressed clear points through the fabric, stiff from the heat of the wine and the cool air of the hall and the humiliations already stacked behind her.

When she shifted on her cushion, the side cuts of the lower cloth flashed pale thigh all the way to the hip. A shining smear marked the inner skin of both thighs where her pussy had been leaking for the last half hour.

Her maturity clung to her the way perfume clings, in the curve of her waist and the weight of her breasts and the shamed flush on a face too beautiful to belong to a woman who had just lost again, and a stranger walking in would have sworn she was a dual-cultivation companion hired for the night rather than the clan leader's wife and the mother of a grown son.

Xuan Wei sat opposite her in a matching style of almost nothing. Her own mature breasts rose with each lazy laugh, and her dark pink nipples peeked out whenever a strip of cloth slipped, which was often, because she did nothing to stop it. Her inner thighs still carried the dried shine of Han Fei's mouth, and she sat with her knees loosely apart and one hand resting on the disciple's thigh, idly tracing circles there, looking as comfortable as a woman wrapped in a winter cloak.

The difference between a woman who had played these games for years and one who was still learning how deep the water went showed in every line of their postures. Han Fei, beside his master's wife, had abandoned any pretence of a disciple's dignity and watched both women with the open hunger of a young man who had spent the previous night with the twin maids and somehow wanted more.

Elder Li's cock stood hard under the edge of the table. Yan Tian's was harder still, and he no longer bothered to hide it.

Elder Xuan Wu lifted the jug and filled six cups with a steady hand, and the wine splashed gold in the lamplight.

"Again," he said.

They lifted their cups together and drank. The wine was sweet at first and then sharp, and it burned all the way down, and the heat of it bloomed in Yan Mei's chest and climbed into her face.

The four men emptied their cups in two or three swallows, as easily as drinking water. Xuan Wei kept pace with them, her throat working smoothly and her eyes sparkling over the rim.

Yan Mei tried. She tilted her head back and forced the wine down in long burning gulps, and her throat fought her and her eyes watered, and her hands shook so badly that a thin line of wine ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin and dripped onto the upper curve of her breast. She was still swallowing when the last of the other cups came down on the table with a click.

She had finished last.

The empty cup sat in her trembling hand, a last red drop rolling around its bottom. Xuan Wei's laugh was soft and almost kind. Elder Li's smile was not.

Elder Xuan Wu's eyes lit up the way a predator's eyes light up when the trap finally closes, and he gestured toward the women's pack with two fingers as though offering her a sweet.

Yan Mei's fingers trembled as she reached for it.

The card came free with a quiet rasp of paper, and the faint floral scent of the ink rose as she turned it over. She read it.

The colour drained out of her face, and then came flooding back in a hotter, darker red that spread down her throat and across the tops of her bare breasts.

Insert an anal tail and take a naked dog walk around the table.

"An anal tail," she whispered, her voice cracking, "and a naked dog walk around the table."

The silence that followed was thick enough to touch.

A lamp wick crackled. Somewhere outside a night insect stopped singing.

Then excitement went through the men like a single shared breath. Han Fei sat up straight on his cushion. Elder Li's cup paused halfway to his mouth and stayed there. Yan Tian's hand went still on his knee.

She looked at Elder Xuan Wu beside her and felt the humiliation land like a slap across the face.

The other punishments had been bad, but this one reached into a place that had been opened only once in her life, on the night of the dice.

Her asshole had been untouched through all the years of her marriage until that night, when this same smiling man had opened her on the floor of the private sitting room with her husband watching. She had not stopped feeling the memory of it since.

She felt it now, a phantom stretch that made her ring clench and her stomach flip over.

The thought of something pushed into her there again, with a fluffy tail hanging out of her to advertise it while she crawled on all fours past four erect men, made her pussy pulse in a small traitorous throb, and the throb shamed her more than the card.

"Tian'er…" she whispered, and looked at her husband.

"The card is the law of the game," Elder Xuan Wu said mildly, as if they were discussing the quality of the tea. "Unless Clan Leader Yan wishes to forfeit on his wife's behalf and offer something richer in exchange."

Yan Tian's jaw worked. He looked at the wet shine on Yan Mei's thighs and the fear in her eyes and the hunger in Xuan Wu's, and the arithmetic of demonic hospitality sat on his shoulders like a mountain. He could offend a main-sect inner elder in his own hall, or he could watch his wife grow a tail. His cock twitched against his robes while he was still pretending to weigh the choice, and he knew then that it had never been a choice at all.

"Do it," he said, quiet and rough. "Finish the round."

Yan Mei closed her eyes for a heartbeat, and when she opened them they were wet and bright.

She drew one long breath, let it out through parted lips, and set the card down face up among the cups.

Elder Xuan Wu was already smiling.

His space ring flashed, and from it he drew a black anal plug of polished spirit stone. It was tapered at the tip and swelled to a thick bulb before it narrowed again at a flared base, from which hung a long, fluffy black tail that swayed as he lifted it. The stone caught the lamplight in a dark liquid gleam.

Beside it he set a small porcelain bottle of clear slippery oil.

He laid them both on the table among the wine cups like trophies, and Han Fei whistled softly through his teeth.

Yan Mei could not take her eyes off the bulb. It looked far too thick. Her ring clenched once at the sight of it, and the clench sent a slow warm pulse forward into her pussy.

"Well?" Xuan Wu murmured. "The card is the card."

Yan Mei stood. Her hands went to the strings of her top. Her fingers shook so badly that it took her two tries to loosen the knot, and the thin cord slipped twice through her damp fingertips before it gave.

Then the cloth fell away, and her breasts spilled free in the lamplight.

They were full and heavy and mountain-shaped, swaying once with the release and settling, her nipples standing pointed and pink in the middle of wide areolae that had pebbled from the cool air and her own arousal. Elder Li's gaze locked onto those nipples and would not leave them.

She tried to cover herself with her arms. The flesh simply overflowed her forearms on every side, plumping out above and below them in a way that was more obscene than if she had stood with her hands at her sides.

She gave up on it.

She pushed the lower cloth down over her hips instead, the damp silk peeling from her lips with a faint sticky catch, and stepped out of it. Then she stood naked in her own discussion hall in front of four men and her husband, with nothing left on her but the black hair cascading down her back and the wet shine between her thighs.

She turned her back to Elder Xuan Wu and bent over.

Her breasts swung down beneath her with the motion like heavy pendulums, and Han Fei swore under his breath.

Behind her, Elder Xuan Wu looked at the tight pink pucker of her asshole, clenched and shy as a flower that had closed again after being opened once. He took her cheeks in both hands and slowly spread them apart.

The little hole stretched into a soft flower shape under the pull.

He held her open for a long moment simply to look, his thumbs pressing the plump flesh aside while the lamplight fell straight into her crack and every man at the table leaned to see. The air of the hall touched her there, cool and shocking, and she felt each stare like breath.

He had opened this hole himself only last night. He could see the faint memory of it in the way her ring fluttered under his gaze instead of clenching shut.

He uncorked the bottle and dripped the oil directly onto her asshole.

It fell in a cool slow thread that made her gasp and jerk forward, and ran down from her ring over the seam of her pussy in a slippery trickle.

He set the bottle down and rubbed the oil in with the pad of his thumb. He circled the ring in slow patient strokes until it glistened and began, very slightly, to soften, the tight pleats easing under his touch one by one.

He pressed the tip of his thumb against the centre and pushed just enough to feel her open around the first knuckle.

She made a strangled sound and her knees nearly buckled.

Then he took his thumb away and coated the plug as well, turning it in his fingers until the black stone shone, and set its tapered tip against her. It was cool and hard and smooth, and she felt the whole length of her spine tighten at the touch.

"Breathe out," he said, almost kindly.

Her eyes slid sideways to Tian'er. He was leaning forward on his cushion, his lips parted, his cup forgotten.

She breathed out, and he began to push.

The plug went in slowly.

The oil eased the stretch, and the tip slid in without much resistance. Then the stone began to widen, and her ring had to open around it a little at a time, wider and wider, a slow hot burn that spread outward from her hole through both cheeks.

She clutched the edge of the table and bowed her head with a low trembling moan.

Her pussy dripped below, wet and ignored. A bead of arousal swelled at the lowest point of her lips, trembled, and fell to the floor.

Drip.

Elder Xuan Wu took his time. He watched her hole stretch pink and shining around the bulb of the plug, the rim gone thin and glossy around the black stone, and he held it there at its widest for a moment, feeling her strain around it.

Then he pushed hard.

The bulb popped through.

Her ring closed around the narrow neck of the plug, and the whole thing seated itself inside her with a sudden deep fullness that went all the way up into her belly.

Yan Mei cried out, a loud and helpless sound that she could not have stopped if her life had depended on it. She was shocked by how much it filled her and how deeply her body remembered being filled there before.

The fluffy black tail hung from the base between her cheeks like a brand.

With it swaying there, her ass looked obscenely beautiful, white and round and split by a plume of black fur that brushed the backs of her thighs whenever she moved. The fur was soft and faintly warm, and each brush of it against her skin made her shiver.

"There," Elder Xuan Wu murmured.

He leaned down over her back until his breath stirred the hair at her nape, and his chest brushed her shoulder blades, warm through the silk of his robe.

"Your little hole remembers me, Lady Yan. It opened for the stone like a mouth that has been waiting to be fed. Last night it fought me for every inch."

"Elder…" she whispered, and could not have said whether she was asking him not to talk or not to stop.

It doesn't remember. It doesn't. I shouldn't want this so much.

But the plug sat heavy and cool inside her, and every small clench of her ring around its neck sent a pulse straight forward into her pussy.

When she squeezed her thighs together to hide it, the movement only pushed the stone a fraction deeper and drew a low, shaking moan out of her that every person in the hall heard.

Han Fei laughed softly.

Elder Li did not laugh at all. He was leaning so far forward on his cushion that his knees had left it, and his lips were moving silently, as though he were praying.

His eyes went from the black fur to the stretched pink rim around the stone and back again, and his hand had closed so tightly around his knee that the knuckles stood out white. He did not blink. He looked like a man afraid that the vision in front of him would vanish the moment he did, and that he would wake alone in his own cold bed with nothing but twenty years of wanting for company.

Elder Xuan Wu gave the base a little twist, just to watch her gasp, and patted her hip.

"Walk," he said.

She sank to her hands and knees on the floorboards.