Jahaliya

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Heart of the Lioness

"Hold still," the seamstress mutters under her breath, Robin sighing theatrically. Tutting at her, the nimble-fingered mouse tugged at the hem of Robin's cloak, pinning the hem into place while her client fidgeted, unused to staying still for too long.

Robin had been whisked away from her bed chambers as soon as the Queen had deemed it a acceptable time to rise, leaving a startled John blinking sleep from his eyes. After taking Robin to breakfast, the Queen insisted that Robin made good use of her personal tailor so that she may fill her much larger wardrobe with fine clothes - clothes that would be far more suitable for her as a second wife to Prince Ryoga. And what girl would resist the temptation of a fresh wardrobe, packed with sultry clothes made of fabric that she could never have afforded otherwise? Certainly not Robin, when faced with this particular allure!

Oh yes: there were perks indeed!

Sylvia, who had been invited to watch with Sapphire (Princess Jasmine's sightless maid) shook her head in amusement, hearing Robin fidget and the seamstress mutter disapprovingly. In all honesty, the wolfess was staying reasonably still for the mouse to do her work, pinning and cutting so that the cloaks and sashes perfectly accentuated her body. The lioness supposed that she would be hard pressed not to wince and whine if she was jabbed with pins from time to time, so she made no comment and smiled warmly to Robin.

Sapphire, on the other hand, demonstrated an uncanny ability in their presence, stroking her fine paws over the extravagant fabrics and then identifying the by touch, even accurately stating the size of smaller bolts that could be stretched between two paws. She seemed to know instinctively what material would drape pleasingly over Robin's curvy frame without causing undue comfort. Once, she hardly suppressed a snort of laughter when the mouse pursed her lips and suggested a fabric that would both constrict Robin's breathing and ruffle her fur uncomfortably, even if it would have looked spectacular and suitable for royalty in any circle. Her corrections were so gentle that they could hardly be deemed outside suggestions at all and the Queen's tailor was gladly swapping preferred fabrics and designs with Sapphire by the time the fitting was drawing to a close.

"It needs something else," the Queen commented, circling Robin like a mother hen, critically appraising one of her more general outfits. "Accessories. Jewellery. They're missing. You have some stock with you, yes?" She continued, addressing her seamstress with a honeyed smile.

"These..." The tailor murmured, going to a small chest and drawing out ropes of fine jewellery in silver and gold, each link encrusted with a gemstone of a different colour.

"These," she went on, draping them around Robin's neck in thick ropes, layering them so that the wolfess' body was caressed and highlighted by the precious metal. "These are what you are looking for. All eyes will be on you and your body if you make use of necklaces such as this. But for more formal occasions...I think I have just the thing...but it shall require some adjustments for your shape, as it is too large right now, I would think."

From a nearby stand, the seamstress removed some cloaks to reveal a stunning, floor length, scarlet robe with ribbons of rubies and black sapphires criss-crossing the entire garment, sparkling wonderfully in the bright sunlight. The small gathering drew a collective gasp at its unrivalled beauty, Sapphire running her paws appreciatively over the material to gain her own understanding and murmuring her approval.

"No, not that one," Robin spoke up firmly, shaking her muzzle. Shocked the seamstress drew the robe back towards her, highly affronted by Robin's refusal.

"Why not?" Sylvia said in surprise, unable to stop herself as she had been eyeing the scarlet robe with great appreciation. "Is there something wrong with it, Robin?"

"Not so much wrong..." The wolfess brushed her hair back consciously, casting a wistful look at the shimmering fabric. "It will cover too much. Apart from restricting my movement... If Princess Jasmine will only wear outfits that cover her completely, I will only wear what shows off my body and what does not hide me away. If only it showed off more..."

"And it's a shame that it will be near impossible to fight like this," Robin said sadly, smoothing her paws down her sides as if especially conscious that her usual harness, with all its weapons and buckles, was no longer in place.

"But why would you be unable to fight?" The mouse tailor said in surprise, mollified by Robin's explanation of why she would not wear the concealing robe. "These hairpins here," she touches the pins that draw Robin's locks back and away from her neck. "They are not just for show, but precision balanced."

"And... Why do my hairpins need to be balanced?" Robin queried, tilting her head thoughtfully. Perking her rounded ears forward, the seamstress, gestured to Robin.

"Pull out a pin and throw it against the wall - you will see," she said mysteriously, stepping back with a smile to give Robin space.

Shrugging and thinking that to try cannot do any harm, Robin selected a long, silver pin from the bunch and hurled it with all her strength at the wall. The pin flew straight and true, like a balanced throwing knife, sinking deeply into the wall with wooden boards and quivering like an arrow fired from the bow. The room was silent for a moment and Robin strode over to the shaking pin, inspecting it; the silver headpin was driven itself so far and so firmly into the wall that she could not pull it out with brute force, the soft pads on her fingertips unable to grasp it tightly enough.

"So, I see," she said, eyes lighting up. "Is there anything else as subtle as this that I can use?" Pondering for a moment, the seamstress paws delicately through a small trunk, searching for something.

"Well, to begin with, these pins can be telescoped as stabbing weapons also, if you will allow me to demonstrate..."

She locates what she is searching for and flourishes it with a triumph - a small, dagger-like stiletto. Robin swishes her tail slowly, not seeing the use at first, but "oh's" softly when the seamstress takes two pins and locks them to either side of the stiletto, transforming the innocent item into a deadly weapon, the silver headpins gleaming dangerously.

"Of course, I will look into other hidden ways in which you can defend yourself without appearing to carry arms," the mouse said with a smug, little smile at her beautiful weapons. "Until then, you will be able to protect your husband and yourself very effectively - if needed, that is. We certainly hope that it will never come to that. In addition, these pins can be envenomed. The poison we most commonly use causes death and paralysis within a few minutes but, if you wish to utilise this weapon, you would require a series of injections to build up your immunity to the toxin. Accidents have been known to happen, after all..."

"I want the injections," Robin said bluntly, leaving no room for doubt. "Anything that will give me an advantage, I want it - so I can protect and defend to the best of my ability. I don't intend to let others fight while I sit back and twiddle my thumbs."

The seamstress nodded and made a note of that, assuring Robin that she would arrange for the injections to be prepared as soon as possible. Sapphire, inspecting a rack of fabric, turned to Robin, seeming to know her exact position in the room although the wolfess' movements were quiet and unobtrusive.

"Silk is stronger than you would expect," Sapphire commented thoughtfully, smiling as her muzzle bobbed sightlessly at the younger fur. "Those sashes - they can be used to block attacks and, more conventionally, to bind limbs, so you may disable your opponent. If you have time, I can explain many to you so that you may be equipped to deal with more unusual situations."

"I'd love to learn more about that, thank you, Saph!" Robin yipped happily, her tail beating against the tutting seamstress' side. "We'll have to arrange a convenient time for both of us, as I would not like to take you away from your duties with Princess Jasmine. Which brings me to ask, how are you adjusting to the palace? Are you finding it well here?"

"It is most comfortable here and I thank you for your hospitality and kindness, Robin," Sapphire said, her face lighting up with the pleasure of conversation. "I have had to spend some time memorizing the pattern of these hallways, so that I may carry out my duties with Princess Jasmine, but I am slowly gaining a better knowledge of them. Soon, I will not have a problem at all, I am sure."

Leaving them to their conversation, the tailor sorted through the clothes that needd to be sewn and adjusted, pins already in place to show what needed to be done. Sylvia looked about uncertainly, wondering if she had any requirement to stay - she really should have returned to the harem by this time - and relaxed when the Queen beckoned her away and out of the door. In the corridor, they stepped away from the closed door, to ensure their privacy.

"Sylvia, something has come to my attention, particularly now that we have Ryoga home safely with us once again," she said with a gentle smile. "You are the only one who has not had a citizenship trial yet."

Startled, Sylvia shook her head to buy a few seconds in which to think, whiskers twitching unconsciously as a pair of male ferrets walked past, the eyes of one grazing her breasts with evident appreciation. Coughing lightly, the lioness re-adjusted her harness, waiting until they were out of earshot as a warm glow spread over her muzzle.

"Well," she began slowly, her leonine tail lashing the air thoughtfully. "I have not truly had time to consider my own initiation, as I have been trying to help the girls adjust in the best way that I can, at least..."

She was quiet, the Queen patiently waiting for her to finish, as there was a sense that Sylvia had left the most important details unsaid, hanging in the air. Feeling the prick of tears in the corner of her eye, Sylvia brushed the back of her paw against her muzzle surreptitiously, pretending that there was a speck of dirt sullying her fur.

"I just don't think I'm ready yet," she added quietly, an air of guilt stealing over her. "Even now...I'm not comfortable. There's still a block for me, something still wrong. The girls are so far ahead of me, so much more a part of Jahaliya than I am... I fear that I am drifting away from them as they learn and grow, knowing not to be self-conscious and knowing to express themselves entirely as they desire. It might be too late for me. I'm not as...slutty as everyone wants me to act..."

"My dear, who said anything about 'everyone'?" The Queen said, rubbing Sylvia's shoulder gently. "This is about you and not any other fur - let them think what they want. You have nothing to be ashamed of! You are adjusting at your own pace and you should not be forced into anything by anyone."

Exhaling deeply, Sylvia considered this, realising that, although the Queen was correct and there was nothing to truly be ashamed of...she still was. She wanted to be a Jahaliyan. She wanted to be sexually free and stop twitching whenever she caught another male so much as glancing at her with interest. Yes, change had to be had...one way or another.

"That being said, we would like to help you adjust, Sylvia," the Queen said thoughtfully, drawing Sylvia from her pondering. "Let me think now...yesterday... Did you enjoy the wedding orgy at all?"

Blushing, Sylvia nodded her head once, mumbling something that sounded like, "very much", under her breath and the Queen smiled, as if she had expected this answer and was pleased with it.

"Why did you like it? What was good about it, for you?" The Queen prodded delicately.

The lioness hung her head, struggling to fight through the many and conflicting feelings she had about the event. Why had she so enjoyed herself?

"It was being so exposed and having so many furs watching as Horace made love to me," she admitted finally, looking up in earnest to the Queen. "It was...delicious, like taking a bite of a sweet, rare fruit, but one that I could take over and over again. To have his penis inside of me while everyone else watched in lust and wished to share was one of the most arousing moments that I have so far experienced."

"Hm..." The Queen pursed her lips. "It is a fair and honest answer, I can see, but your language is still very formal - almost clinical, like they would use in the medical bays - for what took place."

"I am sorry," Sylvia replied, her blush deepening. "I just can't...quite make myself use...rougher language yet... Only when I'm having an orgasm. Then it seems much easier to be lewd. It's something I can't shake...among other things..."

Trailing off, Sylvia sighed heavily, her tail drooping as if it could no longer sustain the effort to prevent the tip from dragging upon the floor. Taking her arm, the Queen smiled sympathetically and led her down the corridor, supposedly to their next shared engagement of the day.

"Do not worry," the Queen said softly. "Your language use at least will be a strong indication of when you are liberated, when you speak without restraint or persuasion. But, come now, we have much to do."

*

"What meeting is this now?" Sylvia said absently, a few days later, consulting a trailing scroll of parchment that detailed her commitments for the day; Horace walked at her side, his lengthier stride easily matching her hurried pace. "These matters all merge into one, these days. I never thought that I would be rushed from place to place, all in the matter of diplomacy."

"There is certainly a lot to consult, in that case," Horace said agreeably, stepping ahead so that he may open the gilded door for her. "But I daresay we will find out in due course - we are only to sit in on this one."

The quiet murmur of voices faded out as the pair stepped into the room, with only a few furs being present. The small cluster of furs, which included the Queen, several Jahaliyans unfamiliar to Sylvia and three tight-fisted envoys, were seated around a round table with two places unoccupied. A jaguar turned - one of the envoys - disgruntled at being halted mid-sentence, eyeing Sylvia up and down with a critical, almost contemptuous eye. She wore a pair of calf-hugging black boots with a well-polished sheen and a flowing cape, which fell from her shoulders and shone in the sunlight, thanks to the intricate, silver detailing. Her head was capped with a magnificent feathered headdress, jet black and threaded with silver; it fell in a mantle over her shoulders like a lion's mane.

It was the remainder of her outfit, however, which caught Sylvia's attention, however, as the jaguar wore an ensemble constructed of cream pies. Two smaller pies were pressed over her breasts, covering only the nipples effectively and drawing the eye more than anything else, while her crotch and rear bore larger additions, one cream pie on each rear cheek. It reminded Sylvia of the daring outfits that she had admired from afar - the one's worn to the high-class ceremonies and gatherings (they would always be splashed over the newspapers).

"I want him too," the jaguar said demandingly, turning to the Queen with a glint in her eye. When the Queen shook her head in confusion, not understanding who or what the she wanted, the jaguar sighed and pointed to Horace with insulting exaggeration. "Him, I want that hung bear, whoever he is, as well as the trade concessions we've agreed upon."

Sylvia stiffened, her fur standing on end, and Horace's jaw fell slack at the strange feline's audacity. How dare she demand Horace like a...like a...well, Sylvia could find no other words for it; she spoke of Horace as if he was a slave, just goods to be exchanged for money or services. Without thinking, she narrowed her eyes threateningly at the jaguar, claws outstretched from the tips of her fingers and tail lashing furiously, but the jaguar was not even looking at her - she had not even noticed her discontent!

"I am sorry to cause you disappointment, but that is quite impossible, Iskierka," the Queen remarked dryly, not giving an inch to the jaguar's obscene demands. "Citizens of Jahaliya are not goods to be negotiated, especially the lover of the harem matron, the harem of which belongs to my son. If I may introduce Horace to you formally, he is also the harem's instructor, a post that he may not abandon without just cause, as I am sure you see."

The jaguar, so named 'Iskierka', snorted dismissively at that piece of information, waving her paw as if she had heard it all before. It was clearly of little consequence in swaying her wishes, however, even if Horace was actively listening in the room, arms folded across his chest in quiet, although unworried, distaste.

"Hah! I've heard of that frigid bitch," Iskierka laughed aloud. "Not from here and too restrained to enjoy a man like a woman should, even if she deigns to 'conform' and show off her body. What good is she to him? Let a real woman take him on."

"Frigid?" Sylvia snarled, stepping forward at once, unforgiving to the insult. "I love Horace - what can you say to that? To be so rude in the presence of the fur himself and the Queen, I hardly think you have manners enough to stand here and face me directly."

"Oh, what have manners to do with it, cat?" Iskierka sneered unpleasantly, scraping her chair away from the table with a grinding screech and posed, rather than stood, showing off her body as confidently as Sylvia taught her lessons.

"His lust, his love and his standing are utterly wasted on you," Iskierka continued maliciously, advancing upon Sylvia, who was open-mouthed and frozen in place. "It would be a kindness to him, if he was to see sense and join my expansive harem of studs - he would certainly prefer it to the likes of your company."

The lioness went quite still with not even the tip of her tail twitching as she digested this new information. Her Horace...a harem stud? Surely a place of high regard in her society, but to be so far away from her and with that cat, of all furs! A low growl built in Sylvia's throat and the Queen made a motion to quell her, which she rebelliously ignored - this was her battle to fight and she would be damned if she didn't put that accursed feline in her place at the end of it! Horace, the tossed about source of the disquiet, reached to touch her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but she only shrugged him off, whiskers bristling as she turned her steely gaze upon Iskierka.

"You will not make love to Horace!" Sylvia roared out, the force of the sound making the picture frames on the wall tremble and the furs flinch reflexively.

"Oh, is that all you've got?" The jaguar smirked, curling her tail around one muscled thigh, her body relaxed under the attention. "All this does is prove my point, dear Sylvia. The way you hold yourself, like you have a right to him, even the language you use. You're no slut if you will not use the proper words or only make love to any fur. So to say, you will not fuck!"

Horace lunged forward, catching Sylvia halfway through an ill-judged, reckless leap at the jaguar, though he fought to angle his body so that she would not feel his stiffening member pressing against her fur, not after that spectacle. It was difficult to hold oneself back when there was a leonine, sultry female fighting for his favour, he thought to himself, and Sylvia only faintly registered his arousal, as intent as she was upon her snide opponent.