The First Penitatas - Revelry
In the last days of summer madness gripped the city.
It came slowly. The first victim of the madness was a butcher's daughter. Twelve years old and no mother to guide her, she did not realise what was happening to her at first. She went into season a full weak early, unprepared and unaware of how to cope. Days after her mating urge struck other young women felt the call; early onset was common in young women, and many of the girls had experienced false heats throughout the spring and summer. For most the sudden hunger for a mate was a source of giddy joy, and gaggles of young women whipped themselves into a frenzy with fantasies of how wondrous their first time would be. Almost all of them had already engaged in sex, but it didn't truly count unless it happened at the Revelry - the first mating in the throes of heat.
It wasn't long before The City, and indeed the entire planet was gripped by the Revelry. In every settled community quirks of biology worked to synchronize the women's mating cycle, and two days before the official end of Summer a mating frenzy took over. The City struggled on as best it could, men and women alike holding themselves back and trying to resist, but the abstinence was only held in place by the promise of permission to give in. That promise came from the Lord Governor himself. He stood before a hungry, energetic throng of citizens in the Palace Common, atop the very same stage where traitors had stood to boil not so long ago. With priests and dignitaries flanking him, he thew up his arms and said the only words that mattered; "Let the Revelry begin!"
And so began a week-long riot of carnality.
In Offworld Pleasures, two rituals were upheld. The first was that a special menu was offered to anyone who walked through the door, cooked of common, local fare but given without charge. The value of each meal ordered, and likewise each bottle of ourl and jolth consumed by the free-loading patrons was billed to the Lord Governor and the amount deducted from the business' annual tax dues. The second tradition was that no female member of staff was required to work, and those that did so understood the additional duties expected of them. Alyra volunteered for this year, as she had every year since coming of age. She greeted the patrons as she always did, steered them to their tables as she was trained, and treated them with absolute decorum. She also knew full well what the young men of the Noble Houses would do with her; many of them having fantasised about her for much of the year up to this point. On the first night alone she was pinned down and forcefully taken a dozen times, typically by three or four men in succession. Alyra knew from experience many of the men wanted her to fight back, to plead and struggle and cry for help as they raped her, then forced her to serve them as though nothing had happened. The server always indulged their fantasies; she shared them, after all.
At Ukoon's Food and Board, in the closest thing Vices had to a respectable part of the district, a free meat bun and mug of ale was available to anyone who had a token. Unlike Offworld Pleasures the staff did not provide sexual favours. At least one Enforcer would be present throughout the Revelry, kept sweet on sweetened meat cakes, discounted alcohol and permission to rut whoever they liked while on duty. The arrangement made Ukoon one of the more family friendly places during the Revelry, as anyone who did something serious enough to distract an Enforcer from eating, drinking and fucking would be subject to their intense, vitriolic displeasure.
The Enforcer's Guild as a whole, keeping with tradition, was at half strength. Every man got three days off, typically broken into two or three distinct periods. Bast, ever the resourceful man, volunteered to be on-board for the first day of the Revelry, and spent it assisting in the woman-dominated administration building. It was a badly-run wing of the Guild, in his opinion; every hour it seemed another woman needed a big, strong man to assist her in the supply room...

In the First House, in the early hours of what would be the first day of the Revelry, Ylari awoke to an unfamiliar sensation of restlessness. She had tossed and turned in the night, binding herself in the silken sheets of her bed and tearing them with her toe-claws. Sweat clung to her fur and soaked into the bedding, but in place of the usual stale aroma the scent was sickly-sweet. She sniffed herself, puzzled by the unfamiliar tang of her own body; it was disquieting. With a shake of her head she dislodged some of the grogginess, and as her faculties returned there came a clear realisation of what lay ahead - her first Season.
A knock upon her door drew a fleeting shiver of excitement. Her mind flashed at once to the prospect of a male servant calling on her, and before she was aware of her unbidden urge she was drooling at the prospect. Swallowing and shaking herself back to a measure of respectability, Ylari called out, "Come in."
It was not a servant, but her grand-mother who came into the room. The woman was forty-eight and wore every year of it openly; her eyes were rheumy, her skin sagging and dry, and her limbs were framed with an exo-skeleton to spare them the strain of her own weight. She tottered into the room with the gentle whir of a gyro-system, built to free her from crutches and keep her balanced where she would otherwise fall. After taking a moment to focus she said, "Oh, look at the state of you, child! We can't have this. Up, up and wash at once!"
"What's the point?" Ylari grumbled, but she allowed herself to be ushered into her en-suite washroom.
Grand-mother tutted at the girl's melancholy. "This won't do at all! The Revelry's a grand time for a young woman. Why, thirteen years old, pretty and fit, you'll have the whole city chasing you! Believe you me child, it's a chore... but the best kind of chore."
"Except that I'm staying home, remember?" Ylari called from under the shower spray. "Mother said it's far too dangerous for me to go out this year!"
The old Kyyreni harrumphed. It was a sound unique to her, and usually indicated that someone was about to be on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing, typically followed by a physical lashing. "Your mother is a silly cow! I don't know where I went wrong with her! That'll do child, come and let me brush you. I swear, your mother is too prim and proper for her own good. It's not healthy, you know, especially not at this time of year. Now then, I want you to put something simple on, just a simple dress, no jewelry."
"Grand-mother, what are you fussing me like this for? Mother's suitor is-"
"Mother's suitor will never lay eyes on you!" the woman snapped, tottering about to sample the various perfumes in the room. She selected one that took her fancy and sprayed a modest amount on Ylari. "Downstairs, quickly now! We don't have much time!"
"Grand-mother!" Ylari protested in a childish tone, "Will you please tell me what is going on?"
"As you like, so long as we talk and walk at the same time. Your brother has made plans to sneak off to Vices and I intend for you to go with him."
"Vices? That's the rough area of The City, yes?"
The old woman's eyes twinkled, "Oh yes, the roughest and the seediest. I remember it fondly; there used to be a common where the men would brawl, and all the women would watch those strapping men as they wrestled each other, all muscle and might... It was a thrill to be there, to offer yourself to those mighty warriors, to feel the heat of their bodies against you, inside you... ah, I do miss it."
Ylari blushed, her Season-gripped mind savouring the rushed recollection. The prospect of hot, muscular men fighting for her affection stirred her in ways that made it hard to walk straight. 
Wokun idled in the main hall. Fourteen years old, the heir apparent to the throne of Taviksaad had filled his adult form out nicely. He was clean and well-groomed for the festivities ahead, dressed in a loose outfit of black and green. At the sight of the approaching women he flashed a smile before turning away, feigning interest in the discussion of his guards.
"Ah, there we are!" Grand-mother announced as they drew close to the man. "Now where are you off too, eh?"
"The Revelry, obviously," Wokun replied, and was rewarded with a sharp rap to the nose by his grand-mother's wizened knuckle. 
"Don't be stupid at me, lad!" She harrumphed. "Where are you going?"
"Probably to Off-world Deli- OW!" He flinched back from the old woman's strikes, frustrated at having no recourse to answer her assault.
"That's where you told your father you were going, so I know you're going anywhere else but there. You tell me right now or I'll take your father by the ear and tell him such a tale he'll skin you alive for what you did!"
Wokun looked to his sister for a way out, but it was clear from her expression that Ylari had no idea where any of this was headed. "Alright, fine! We're going to Vices!"
Grand-mother gave a triumphant smirk, "I knew it! Well then, you'll be taking your sister with you. No arguing! Go find her a real man to roll around with, not the fluffed up toys that flutter about round here. Get her into some trouble, and get yourself in some as well while you're at it. If your parents aren't furious with you by tomorrow morning, I surely will be!"
Both grand-children shared an expression that was equal parts confused and entertained. "I... I will, grand-mother. Well, sis, shall we go?"
With no further fanfare, the heirs set out together to find the rest of Wokun's band, and launch their Revelry misadventures.

Almost forgotten in the background of the hedonism were those the Revelry did not call. Some were alien, like the Doland family who took the magline to a part of town they would normally never dream of visiting. Some, like their daughter, were simply too young to go into Season. In Sam's case, her mind played tricks on her; she had been old enough once, and memories of past urges sent trembles up and down her spine. The family wound their way to a low-quality housing area, with residences stacked four high atop one another in a wide bank. A park existed in the centre, at least in theory; in practice it was simply an oblong chunk of asphalt. They found the home they sought and discovered the door was open. Kadan, stripped to the waist, was hoisting himself up toward the ceiling on a pull-up bar, grunting with effort, fur shining and ruffled with sweat.
"Hello? We're here," Eve said cheerily, prompting Kadan to drop back to the ground and hunt for a towel.
"Ah... early. Come in if you like."
Eve took one step inside and decided that was two steps too many. "We won't be staying long. Are you sure Sam being here isn't a problem?"
Kadan shook his head, "It'll be good for Skal to have company. You go enjoy the street party."
Sam hurried into Skal's room to find the boy sat on his bed. The room was small, far smaller than her own bedroom and almost devoid of furniture. Skal's only possessions appeared to be his clothes, which were draped on a clothes rack in the corner, and a few basic toys; a sketch tablet and two model spaceships. He had the latter on his bed, holding the larger of the two and idly swinging it around as she entered. Skal gave his friend an eager grin, his tail flicking up as she entered, but his enthusiasm waned at the sight of her expression. "Hey... you good?"
Sam nodded, taking in the depressing surrounds, "Yeah. Nice room. Sure there's enough room for two of us?"
"We'll manage," Skal replied. Not for the first time, he felt a pang of jealousy at the life Sam lead. Even if they were both Penitatas, their punishment was far from equal.
The subtle drop in Skal's ears and shifting of his facial-warmth told Sam he'd picked up on her dislike of the room. She cursed inwardly, hating how difficult it was to hide her feelings in this child-body, and tried to put on a brave face. She strode over to join Skal on the bed, discarding her bag as she went and picking up the free spacecraft. "Cool ship," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic without coming across as forced.
"It's a Dyr'kr class," Skal explained, his voice quickly becoming energised as he launched into his explanation, "They were one of the most popular ship designs ever; thousands were built, and at the time they were considered the best warship of the age. Of course, that thin mid-section was a bit of a flaw, and a lot of them would get blown in half during close-quarter battles. They're still around though, mostly in the hands of pirates, Raiders or the poorer Houses that can't afford anything better. If Kadan lets me, I'm going to paint it up in First Icaran War colours."
Sam had been turning the ship over in her hands while Skal spoke, taking in the details. With the brief lesson over she turned to the larger vessel. "What about that one?"
The boy seemed almost offended by her lack of knowledge, "How do you not recognise it? It's the Indestructible!"
"I'm not really good with ships," Sam confessed.
Skal handed the ship over for her to examine more closely, "This is the ship that began the first Colony War! This was long ago, back before we even had shield tech or proper energy weapons. The real thing is over two miles long, with a massive armoured prow to protect it from enemy fire. See those grills on the side? They're shutters for the launch bays. She carried bombers and ground attack craft, as well as retractable Gauss cannon turrets and torpedoes. She was sent to put down a rebellion on Javkaskr, but instead the Indestructible sided with the rebels and liberated the colony. It took the Dawn Kingdom three years to retake the planet, but by then the ship had fled to the fringes. She's been the flagship of the Free Armada ever since."
With a playful smirk, Sam passed the Indestructible back and picked up the nameless pirate ship once more. "Well that's great, but my ship would totally win in a fight. Without shields, you're screwed!"
"Well it does have shields now," Skal corrected her, which prompted the Penny girl to poke out her tongue in response.
"Don't care, because my ship has anti-matter cannons and they ignore shields! Pchow!"
"There's no such thing as anti-matter cannons!" Skal laughed in protest, veering his model out of the way of Sam's swooping movements. "And my bombers will mince you!"
"No they won't! Evasive action! Vreeeew! Freem-freem! Direct hit to your launch bays!"
The two Penitatas lost themselves in their simple, imagined game, weaving an emergent story of narrow escapes and sudden reversals as only young children could. Soon their play became physical, two captains locked in a mortal duel to the death as they grappled with one another, rolling around on the ground and snapping at each other with feigned aggression. A thump from somewhere outside made them both startle and break apart, ears perked and eyes wide as they listened. A second crunch, then a third. Skal reasoned they were fireworks - small-grade explosives, but the best that could be used under the dome of The City. Sam had quite a different reaction. "The ship's coming apart!" she cried.
Caught off-guard for a moment, Skal was pulled to his feet as Sam spoke with urgency, "We have to stop the ship from exploding! What do we do?"
"Lock down the emergency bulkheads!" Skal answered without thinking. Sam leaped toward the door and punched in a code onto an imaginary keypad. "It's not working! There's no power!"
"Hold on!" the boy answered, grabbing up his sketch-pad and joining her. He pressed it up against the wall and drew a crude circuit with his stylus. "Okay, diverting from weapons... secondary systems... that's all we've got!"
Sam nodded and tried the code again, "Got it! Bulkheads secure!" She stepped back and looked around the room as muffled, staccato detonations rang from outside. "What's that sound? Are we in a meteor shower?"
"No, I think it's worse... I think the reactor's going critical. If we can't get off the ship-"
The door to the room swung open. Both Pennys turned to see Kadan leaning on the frame, a glass of spirit in hand. "Of all the sounds I expected to hear coming from this room... this didn't even make the list," he said with a smirk before downing most of his glass. Both children blushed and turned away, sheepish at their blatantly childish behaviour.
"I'm going to hit the town," Kadan announced, "I made a cold lunch for you both and put it in the fridge. I don't expect to be out too late, so try not to destroy the place while I'm gone. Oh, and stay away from the spirits."
"Yes sir," Skal answered with a nod of acknowledgement. He followed his master out into the living room and watched as Kadan pulled on a worn blue shirt and slipped on a pair of cheap silver-plated rings. With only a brief glance back at the boy, Kadan left the residence and went out into the Revelry.
"So... we're unsupervised?" Sam asked, peering from out of the bedroom.
"Looks like it," Skal answered with a hungry grin up on his muzzle.
Slowly, cautiously, Sam crept into the living room as though expecting the front door to burst open again at any moment. The girl seemed to take a great deal of interest in the furnishings, walls and ceiling of the room, casting only fleeting glances at Skal. "So..." she began, only to shy away from whatever thought she wished to express. After a few moments stalling, she tried again, "Now we're alone... what's something you'd really, really like to do?"
Skal felt his ears redden at the question. "I want to watch you pee," he blurted out.
Sam laughed aloud at the request, "of course you do! You're a real pervert, you know that?" She met his gaze, and noting the hurt look on his muzzle she glanced down quickly before peering back up to him sheepishly, "Well? If you want pee you should go get me something to drink. I need filling up first," she added with a playful wink.
"You know what I want?" she called as Skal scurried to the kitchen, "I want to see you play with another boy."
"I'm not really into that kind of thing," Skal replied as he offered Sam some water. She drank it quickly and returned the glass, noting to her amusement the bulge in the front of the boy's pants.
"Oh? And here I thought boys would fuck any hole they could find," she chuckled.
Sam shook his head, "I'm not into backdoor stuff, and sharp teeth on a sensitive cock is a bad combination."
"I don't know, you seemed to like it last time," Sam giggled. She pointed back to the kitchen, wordlessly instructing Sam to refill her glass. "Would you do it for me? Come on, what do I have to do to get you to swallow a load?"
Once more, Skal offered up water to his friend, "I don't know... how badly do you want it?"
The penny girl grinned ear to ear, "bad enough to cuck you over it. Until you agree to let another boy ride you like a girl, you're not allowed to ride me."
"Seriously?"
"Oh yeah, completely serious," Sam confirmed as she drank the second glass. "Best find yourself a boyfriend quick."
Skal paused for a moment, "are we still going to play though?" Sam nodded, and he grinned at the plan that quickly formed. He sought out Kadan's bags of kit, finding the lengths of rope he'd used to suspend him from the pull bar and tossing a length over the exercise frame.
"Come here and give me your hands," Skal instructed and Sam obeyed. He tied her wrists in a clumsy but serviceable fashion and pulled on the loose end of the rope until she was forced fully upright. After getting a feel for the spare lengths, and with some difficulty, Skal tied the rope to and around Kadan's weights to keep the girl secure in place. He then fetched a pair of thick towels from Kadan's bedroom and a glass jug, which Sam guessed the reason for immediately.
With cruel slowness, Skal popped the buttons on her shorts open one by one, whispering to her as he worked, "You like to act tough, but we both know you want to be controlled. So I'm going to have fun with you. I'm going to tease you, make you squirm, get you right to the edge and then stop, over and over."
Her pants came away, and Skal delighted in the perverse sight of female genitals surrounded by male-blond fur. His tongue lapped at her folds, the taste of her making his erection twitch with excitement. He pulled back a little and blew against her opening, making her flinch and giggle at his playful teasing. He kept up his game, lapping just enough to make her moan before pulling back, never letting her get too aroused or to settle into a pleasurable rhythm. As he stretched out the torment, Sam's squeaks and moans became more urgent and he began whimpering out short, pleading requests for more prolonged attention, which Skal punished with further edging and denial.
Testing her resolve, Skal traced a finger across her opening and licked his lips at how her passage clenched hungrily, trying to pull him inside. He stood up and stroked his length across the front of her crotch, leaving a thin line of pre-cum in her fur. "I think it's time for the main event," he purred.
"I told you, not until you agree to have sex with a boy," Sam tried to scold, but she was too worked up to come across as anything but needy.
Skal growled in reply, "I'm not asking permission." He pressed the tip of his hard-on against her entrance and Sam's hips swung forward to meet him, her body hungry for what her mouth rejected. He eased forward, lifting her up a little to make it easier for them to join. As his length was enveloped, Skal's head began to spin and he leaned into Sam for support. He realised, to his surprise, that her scent had changed. It was a siren's scent, one that surged straight to his crotch and made his knot swell to agonising size. Already fully inside her, the sudden tightness forced him over the edge into the most painful orgasm he'd ever experienced, and all he could do was bury his head against Sam's shoulder and whimper as his length twitched and spasmed.
As the sensation ebbed and the spots cleared from his vision, Skal realised his knot wasn't receding. Sam, equally breathless, nuzzled against him and whispered, "well, it is the Revelry. Boys do get more excitable this time of year..." She flashed a smile that Skal returned, and they settled back into a steady grinding. Every few minutes Sam would bite her lip or throw her head back, letting out a yelp that straddled pain and pleasure. Each time she would clench down and tighten around Skal's member, giving him fresh surges of pleasure and forcing him into a dry orgasm of his own, while keeping the knot swollen and eager.
"I don't mean to rush you," Sam gasped as she came through her latest climax, "but I really need to stop soon!"
Skal nodded, but he had no idea what he could do to free himself. "I could just pull out?"
Sam shook her head urgently. Skal tried to think, which was not easy with his blood flowing away from the brain. He realised there was only one real option. He tried to carry Sam to one side and give himself enough reach to hook the towels with his foot, dragging them beneath the girl and getting her to stand on them. She looked at him with fearful eyes, "You're not serious, are you?"
Skal blushed, "you might have no choice. If I- AH! Damn it, it just won't go down!"
He tried to redouble his efforts, thrusting faster and harder into Sam's warm folds, but the girl protested as his thrusting was making it harder for her to hold her water. Soon all the playfulness was gone, replaced by urgent whimpers and a look of shame on her face. Skal slowed his thrusting and pulled himself close to her, rubbing her muzzle with his own. "It's okay, just let it happen," he whispered. "I'll take the blame."
Sam's breathing slowed, her body relaxed, and shortly after a sudden hot spray splashed over Skal's crotch. The sensation made him finally shoot his load, a fact which Sam would never let him live down, and he moaned in ecstasy as Sam emptied her bladder over him, her pee soaking into their fur and the towels. As the last dribbles soaked into his crotch, Skal's length slipped free, still twitching and covered in her scent. He cleaned himself as best he could before helping Sam down.
"We are absolutely fucked," she whined, examining the mess as she massaged some feeling back into her wrists. The towels had caught the worst of it, but there was no hiding the smell. To her shock, Skal raised his head and quickly lapped at her crotch, cleaning her with his tongue. Sam buried her face in her hands, but couldn't quite stifle her giggling.
"There, you're clean. Or mostly clean," Skal chuckled. "We should get a shower."
After washing themselves and cleaning up as best they could, the two Penitatas sat together on the couch with the broadcasts on, only paying the slightest bit of attention to the shows and performers being highlighted on the screen. Each was lost in their own thoughts, mostly concerning the state of their backsides once Kadan came home. They hadn't even bothered to dress.
"You were right, by the way," Sam said at last, staring absently at the screen as a pair of jugglers sent flaming torches twirling. "I do like to be controlled.
Skal shuffled across to her, bringing his arm around her shoulders and pulling the girl close, "and I like to control you," he answered with a playful laugh.
She nuzzled his chest happily. "You're taking the blame still, right?"
"Yes... I will," Skal answered with a worried sigh.
"Good. I'll take the blame next time," she added, and smirked to herself at how Skal's boyhood twitched at her promise.

Vices during the Revelry wasn't all that different to any other time of year. The streets were full of drunks, brawlers and pick-pockets, same as always; only now the drunks were horny and nobody broke up the brawls. The brothels were doing a steady trade, for even in the Revelry there were those who found it faster, easier or simply preferable to pay for sex.
What struck Kadan most was the reckless courage the Revelry brought to the denizens of Vices. Locals who would normally veer away from him dared to meet his eye. Gang members strayed into each others' haunts without their presence erupting into wholesale slaughter. Fine, upstanding citizens who would never normally stray into Vices lost all their inhibition and joined the throng, unknowingly rubbing shoulders with men and women who would happily cut their throat at any other time of year. It was the code of the Revelry; Kadan did not believe in honour among thieves, but he did believe in the ceasefire born of the mating urge.
He found himself drawn to a rough house bearing the ominous name "The Oath of Broken Bones." You had to pay at the door, even during the Revelry, and they certainly didn't give anything away for free. It was packed to capacity, which itself was a warning sign to anyone with the wisdom to see it; when brawling in the street went unremarked, it was a certain kind of man who felt the need to fight in a place with extra protection from consequence. Kadan touched base with the door security on his way to the bar, knowing both of the muscular men by name. They were hands-off tonight, much to Kadan's approval.
He settled in at the bar and bought cheap beer to drink. A few scuffles were taking up the main floor, but the fighters were already so drunk they could hardly stand. It was a preamble to the main event. An experienced eye could read the room and see the dangerous men, all holding back for some unspoken signal to unleash themselves. Not a soul had stirred at Kadan's arrival. Not a soul had dared to. The rough houses worked on a code of honour, made up of unspoken rules. Word had gotten round Kadan did not believe in such things.
Kadan was starting his second beer when the nobility arrived in the Oath. Four well-groomed and finely dressed young men with a woman in tow. The woman's attendance was to be expected, for the shadows of the rough house harboured many young, eager women who wished to couple with a champion that day. The doormen tried to steer the group back out into the street, but the nobles were insistent. More fool them; the Oath's occupants watched with venomous eyes, each man weighing the odds and risks of satisfying a burning desire to break apart their betters. The drunks went first, and the nobles met them eagerly. Each youth was trained in armed and unarmed combat, and they relished the chance to make use of their skills. Kadan turned to watch them, but it was the crowd who carried his interest. A student of strategy would have recognised the calculating expression worn by a dozen scarred faces. The killers studied their prey's fighting techniques with interest. They dispatched their first challengers easily, making a sport of it. Others followed, more capable if not more intelligent, but these too served only as meat to be beaten by the young men. Trained in deck-fighting and other martial arts, they were an impressive example of both the physical and mental power a warrior needed to succeed. Their only weakness was inexperience; not in the use of their skills, but in the true nature of the world they fought in.
The lead youth wore green and black. He laughed as the beat down his opponent, kicking the drunk out of the ring with a spinning strike that was pure showmanship. "Is this the best Vices has?" he called out to the crowd, laughing at his own success, unable or unwilling to read the audience.
Kadan could read that audience, and he knew someone was about to die. He stamped to his feet, half-empty bottle in hand, and with an exaggerated stagger he approached what he assumed was the group's leader. "Hey! Hey... you want the best, do you?"
All four youths turned to what they believed was just another drunk. Kadan played into their assumption by pointing to each of them with over-done gestures as he counted them aloud. "Okay, so the first rule of... of the first rule is... one at a time! Yeah, so you three go and sit over somewhere, and I will put your supremeness in his placeness!" Kadan slurred, giving himself a wild sway that fooled no-one but the adrenaline-fueled nobility.
"You heard him, make room!" the youth in green laughed. "You drunks must enjoy being hurt!"
Kadan grunted and downed the last of his beer. "Eh... I don't think you can swing for shit mate. I bet those lot would've fallen over all on their own! Go on, give us a love tap on the chin!"
The noble snarled, stepped forward and swung. Kadan took the hit, rode its momentum and bounced back. Too late, the noble realised Kadan still had the bottle in his hand. No weapons - that rule was painted clearly on the wall. Only four voices cried out in protest. To the noble's credit he recovered well and counter-attacked, laying into Kadan with a storm of blows to the face and gut. Kadan staggered, gasping as the air was driven out of him and struggling to find the gap he needed. Blow by blow he fell back towards the wall, the crowd there parting and allowing the fight to move outside of the prescribed boundaries; another warning flag the noble missed.
As he reached the standing tables that lined the fighting space, Kadan made his move. He lunged, maw open and let the noble's fist hit home. The blow cracked his teeth, but the sharp points dug into the noble's flesh and gave him a dangerous point of purchase. He twisted and snapped down, feeling flesh rip and bone grind against the blade-like fangs as he threw himself at the noble. The young man pulled away, but he couldn't make a gap in time to stop Kadan laying into him. A blow to the stomach bought the Enforcer the time he needed to grapple and throw the younger man, smashing him against the standing tables and driving him over them, through them and ultimately into the far wall. The man raised a bloody arm to guard himself, a tooth still embedded in the knuckle, but there was no halting the storm of rage Kadan unleashed. He hammered home with kicks and punches, elbows and knees and teeth; every opening was exploited with ruthless efficiency. The noble resisted, trying to use his deck-fighting techniques to push back and make room for a true fight, but every time he pushed Kadan back the Enforcer would retaliate with a haymaker or driving kick that smashed him back into the wall. After one such staggering blow the noble lost his balance, and that was the end of him.
The other nobles tried to come to their leader's aid, but a wall of snarling men blocked their way. They could only listen to his howls, then his silence, and the unrelenting thud of fists into flesh. Kadan rose, knuckles split and bloody from his work, blood dripping from a split muzzle and raw redness showing beneath his matted, ruined fur in a dozen places. The noble lay curled against the wall, his pristine features ruined by the Enforcer's rage, his tail, a wrist and an ankle broken. He lived, but only just.
"Take your friend and go," Kadan growled to the survivors, and the crowd parted so that his will could be done. The nobles growled at him, wishing to appear brave, yet they stood stooped with their chins up in a sign of supplication, instinctively cowed by their foe. One by one they lost their bluster and went to the fallen, carrying him out as a chant began around them: Red Kadan! Red Kadan! Red Kadan!
Only one noble remained. The woman approached Kadan cautiously, her eyes meeting his scowl and never wavering. She stopped just beyond his reach, her young body trembling in fear, or perhaps anticipation as she slipped the shoulder straps of her dress down and allowed the garment to fall to the floor. The scent of her reached Kadan and hit him as hard as any man's fist. Without thinking he rushed her, grabbing the young woman by the shoulders and forcing her against the corner of the bar. He pulled open his pants to free his swelling length and pulled her tail aside to give himself access to her moist entrance. The girl parted her legs and raised her hips to ease his entrance as Kadan took her, swift and forceful. They both gasped aloud as Kadan's forming knot passed the entrance, binding them together. The sensation made the woman whimper, the press of Kadan's pulsing cock against her deepest point pushed her instantly into the first of many orgasms.
Kadan's hand closed around the young woman's neck as he gained new purchase. He pulled her backward, forcing her hips into his own as he sought to maximise his own pleasure. The more forceful and aggressive he acted, the more eagerly his partner squeezed and rode his captive cock, driving him to increasing acts of feral lust. He hunched over her and roared through his first orgasm, shooting a hot burst of cum deep into her, but the scent of her Heat kept him rigid and his thrusting never slowed for a moment. The intensity forced her into another wordless, moaning orgasm of her own. By now she had lost any pretense of resisting and simply gave herself to her champion; she was his to use however he desired.
They remained coupled for almost an hour, each lost in their lust, shutting out everything except their base instincts. Their movements had slowed from the initial feral hunger, transitioning without word or agreement into a steady, quiet rhythm that served only to keep each aroused enough to maintain the locking. At last, with his hands upon her wrists and his teeth upon her throat, Kadan whined out one last, dry orgasm and his knot abated. Slowly, stiffly, he pulled himself free. There was a soft pop and a spatter of fluids. He reached for a grey towel a mindful bar-aid had placed there for them to use and wiped himself clean. The girl, meanwhile, remained where he'd left her.
"Was it everything you hoped?" he asked breathlessly. She turned her head enough to meet his gaze, her face almost as red as the teeth marks in her neck. Her muzzle was turned up into a faint smile, her ears perked, her tail remained raised where Kadan had put it. The Enforcer chuckled, proud of his work; he knew she'd have let him take her all over again if he had the strength.
As he staggered out into the street, the pain caught up with him. Wall mounted fans provided a bit of relief, but there was only so much that fresh air could do. Kadan's whole body ached, and the flesh around his left eye and heat-membrane was beginning to bulge alarmingly. He'd need the nanite-gel and a cold compress, but even then it was likely his Revelry was over. Merry-makers and rabble-rousers alike gave him a wide berth as he stumbled out of Vices, slowly steering himself down the familiar path to home. It was as he reached the decent side of the distinct that he became aware of his stalker. With a prayer to the Gods on his lips he turned to find not the knife-toting ganger he expected, but the woman he'd taken in the rough house.
"I'd hoped we might stay together a while longer," she said quietly to explain her presence.
Kadan gave a pained sigh in response, "Listen, you were... everything I could have asked for. Really, you were. But I am spent. I want to go home to rest and heal..."
"Do you have someone there to tend to you? To clean your fur and dress your wounds?"
"No," Kadan confessed. "Is that really how you want to spend the rest of the Revelry? A woman like you could have any man she liked."
"I know," she replied as she approached, "but I chose you, Red Kadan."
The nickname made him grimace, but he chose not to complain, "and what should I call you?"
Her tongue gently lapped at his muzzle, "call me your prize, for that is what I am."
Kadan growled hungrily in reply, "well then, prize, let's get you home!"

The Pennys were still curled up together when Kadan and his new friend returned. They looked up apprehensively, holding each other for support as Kadan stumbled through the doorway, covered in cuts and bruises. He looked at the two Penitatas, puzzled, and sniffled the air of the room.
"I... I had an accident," Skal preempted the question.
Kadan gave a sigh that indicated he was not in the mood and waved his partner inside. "Come in, please. It appears my lad pissed himself in our absence."
The woman sniffed the air in turn and smiled, "I doubt that." she gave a confused look toward Sam, baffled by the obvious femininity of her exposed crotch and the masculine colourings of her body. Sam stared in return, mouth agape at who she saw. "I think your friend is covering for you, yes?"
Sam nodded shyly, "Yes m'lady,"
"M'lady?" Kadan echoed, turning to the woman in confusion.
Ylari nodded, "My name is Ylari, daughter of the Lord Governor's Wife. I assumed you knew..."
Kadan closed his eyes and let his mouth open and close slowly for a while. In the end, he decided to ignore the revelation, "These two probably want feeding. I don't know if dusthog and ambers cooked in a rad-oven is up to your normal standard, but you're welcome to some."
The noblewoman gave a polite smile, "will today's adventures never cease? I would be delighted to try your cooking."
Five minutes later, the four were dining together in the living room with plates on their knees, all protocols of social status forgotten. They talked idly, watched performance broadcasts, and Ylari even indulged the Penitatas in their play while Kadan dozed in the bedroom, cleaned and bandaged as promised. When the children tired Ylari put them both in Skal's bed before retiring herself to Kadan's room. She let her dress drop onto the floor and crawled up next to him where he lay atop the sheets. "My champion, your prize awaits," she whispered.
Kadan reached over the turn off the lights, and in the darkness claimed his prize once more.