The First Penitatas
Chapter 40 – Wokun's Revelry

Above the Palace in the centre of the City there was a starry sky. It was a projection of the heavens beyond the dome, rendered on screens bolted to the inner skin of the city-spanning dome, but it was good enough to the real thing to stir emotions within a casual stargazer. Lord Governor Wokun was such a man. “Do you ever look at the stars, Vjar?” he asked the Kyyreni beside him.
“Not really,” the Houseguard replied. Vjar was a broad-shouldered, muscular male in his twenties, blessed with rugged looks, a rich blond coat and thick amber mane that attested to his virility. He was currently nude, bearing his fur to the world as was custom for the rites of challenge. A single-edged sword was held casually in his right paw.
“You should. There's something about the stars that soothes the soul.”
“My soul needs no soothing, Lord,” the Houseguard replied.
Wokun turned his gaze from the distant dome to his warden. Vjar was an inch taller than he, and far more powerfully built. A brutal beating a year ago – almost a year to the day, in fact – had marred Wokun's appearance, but no such blight soiled Vjar's muzzle. He had a wife, and she was presently tending their young cub. That knowledge sobered Wokun's thoughts. “Are you confident in your chances?”
Vjar nodded slowly. “He's an older man, but past his prime. It may be frowned upon, but I can land a few cheap nicks to end this quickly.”
“I would be glad if you did. I have no wish to see you harmed.”
The Houseguard snorted at his lord's words. “I am spoken for, Lord Governor.”
Wokun barely suppressed a grimace at the subtle rebuke. “I am not speaking out of some childish lust for your body, Vjar. You are a loyal guardian, a trusted advisor... and dare I say, a friend? You are close to me, and I have lost enough close souls.”
Vjar had the decency to look embarrassed for his previous remarks. “I will do my best, Lord. It is a challenge to three cuts; hardly a concern.”
Wokun knew this was a lie. In any challenge with a live blade the risk of serious injury, if not death, was always present. Many a “three-cut” bout had ended in tragedy, for killing an opponent ensured victory by default. “Does it ever burden you, having to enter the ring?”
“I could ask you the same, Lord. You've fought for the House.”
“By my own will, yes. You... I am the one sending you to fight. That weighs on me.”
Vjar grinned at his lord, revealing a muzzle full of leaf-shaped, sharkish teeth. “Lord, I was raised for this. I know I might die in your service. I do not welcome death, but I will not shy from it either.  If this is the last time we speak, know that I go willingly to death.”
To Wokun's relief, the duel was not Vjar's end. As the Houseguard judged, his rival's age was a hindrance; Vjar delivered three shallow cuts to the forearm, thigh and chest, wounds that would heal quickly and with no lasting harm. The aspirations of the rival House were blunted, and all was well. All, that is, except the nagging guilt of the Lord Governor for having put such a handsome man in mortal peril.
The Lord Governor went in search of solace, though he found it elusive. His elevation to the highest office on the planet had seemingly robbed him of much of his previous life; his father most obviously, but also his circle of friends. Some were now dead, others disgraced, others still simply unwilling to engage with him as they once had. Before he was just a reckless pup looking to fight and drink and fuck. Now he was unapproachable.
His foot-paws carried him to the kitchens. He wasn't hungry, but he'd hoped to find some comfort there. Sure enough, a ten year old female was busying herself there with all the lack of enthusiasm expected of her age. That amused Wokun, if only because she had not long ago been much, much older. “Grand-Mother”, he said.
His grandparent glanced up at him. “Oh, to what do I owe this honour?” she asked. Her voice still managed to carry the barb that made her such a frightening disciplinarian.
“I... needed someone to talk to,” he confessed.
Grand-Mother's featured softened immediately. “Of course, dear. What's troubling you?”
Wokun found a stool to rest upon as he tried to unpack his thoughts. “I have received three missives for potential suitors. We're running out of time and I still haven't chosen one.”
Grand-Mother responded with a less than courtiers snort. “Well, I have good news and bad news in that area, my boy. The good news is you needn't worry about a suitor any more.”
“The bad news being you've chosen one for me,” Wokun responded instinctively.
“Well we were tired of waiting!” Grand-Mother responded. “We settled on Caera of House Kaahl. She seemed a sound choice given your comparable ages and the building closeness between our two Houses.”
Wokun bared his teeth at the revelation. “Do you not think that favouring House Kaahl with that arrangement is going to embolden House Gronahl?”
“Of course we did! We've been making assessments like that since long before you were born! The last thing Ulf is going to want is for Bjol to stomp in and ruin his new partnership before it's even begun, so House Kaahl will be throwing everything they have to block any attempt from Gronahl to upset the status quo. That'll buy us time to shore things up elsewhere and see to it that the rural folk remain in their place.” the rejuve'd girl gave a smug little smile at her own assessment.
Wokun wanted to disagree, but he kept his tongue still. It was an assessment he'd heard several times, and while he disagreed he had to accept there was some validity to it. “Fine,” he sighed, accepting defeat. “I take it the details are all in place?”
“Not quite. We need the bond to be consummated first,” Grand-Mother gave Wokun a Look that firmly deserved the capital letter. He was impressed that such a small face could project so much disapproval with nothing but eyebrows and tilt of the head.
Yet again, Wokun chose not to rise to it. “When will my bride-to-be arrive?”
“Toward the end of the Revelry. We need some time to get everything ready and-” Grand-Mother paused, softening her expression and making her tone less confrontational. “-well, leaving one's home is never easy. She wanted a chance to enjoy herself with friends. One last night as a woman of House Kaahl.”
“Well I won't begrudge her that. Excuse me,” Wokun rose from his seat and went in search of something, anything, that might distract him from his imminent consummation of marriage.

Try as he might, the Lord Governor could not help but dwell on the duty that lay before him. He recalled little of Caera, for they had scarcely spoken to one another, but he could summon an impression of her from a social event several years ago; she'd been mostly grey-furred with prominent brown spots across her neck and shoulders, with a pale, almost white fur trail that began at the collar bone and vanished beneath the creamy, off-white dress she'd worn. The eyes jumped out at him, for they were a curious lilac colour rather than the more common green or amber hues.
The girl in his memory was nine or ten years old. Wokun tried to imagine how she would appear now, five years later, but he soon gave up on such a pursuit. It didn't matter what she looked like; he could not make her appeal to him in the way that was required.
“Not that this is a problem,” Wokun muttered to himself when the thought came to him. He had learned years before how to fake interest and, and even enthusiasm to a lesser degree. The act itself would be physically pleasant; it was the mental toll that came after he dreaded. He knew he would feel sullied by the deed.
When the day finally came he spent most of the morning readying himself, mentally and physically. He bathed in anticipation, coating his body in expensive oils that gave his fur a healthy glow and fragranced him with subtle, pleasing aromas. He also made sure to swallow a few innocuous tablets that would help maintain arousal. Clean, perfumed and with a subtle bulge in his trousers, Wokun headed back to his bedroom to make ready for his bride to be.

He opened the door to an unexpected figure. A young man sat in the room alone, his fur a rich blond that spoke of dyes and touch-ups. His thick sand coloured mane splayed wide over the shoulders of his pale leather jacket. His tail was half curled around the chair-leg in a subtle hint of nerves, his tuft brushing back and forth in irregular motions. “Who are you?” Wokun growled, making the male snap his head toward the Lord Governor. A pair of surprised eyes met his. The man's face was soft and rounded, more like a young boy than a full man. As he stared into the lilac eyes of the stranger a bolt of revelation hit home. “Caera?”
The 'boy' glanced away as a blush formed upon her muzzle. “I... it was suggested that, given your tastes in partners, that this might make our rutting easier for you.”
All that Wokun could offer in reply were strangled sounds, for surprise and confusion had utterly choked anything resembling coherent thought. He approached his bride to be, carefully running a curious paw through her mane. She noticed the gesture and offered an answer to the unspoken question. “It's false. I had it made to order.”
“But it is convincing,” Wokun replied, smiling softly as he moved to caress her chin. “I'm touched you'd go to such lengths for me.”
Caera rose from her seat, letting her paws rest on Wokun's chest as her eyes slid closed. With a pang of guilt, the Lord Governor suspected that she had her own reservations about their arranged marriage, and the imminent part she had to play. Her paws moved to the black lace holding her shirt closed, carefully unbinding the knots and letting leather and cotton fall away to reveal four small, firm breasts. Wokun's paw cupped one, almost as if he were curious about them, before his hand slid around to her back and pulled her close to him. He took in her scent, noting the deliberately masculine fragrances she'd used to further the illusion. “Are you ready?” he whispered softly into her ear.
“I am,” she confirmed, and the pair broke apart to further undress. Even though he had no interest in females, Wokun found a certain instinctive pleasure in how Caera's eyes drifted downward, following the movements of his paws, and how upon revealing his erection her gaze lingered. He imagined she was sizing him up, judging how well the two would fit together. The soon-to-be Lady Governess bared herself, and with her groin exposed the faint, yet unmistakable scent of a Kyyreni female in heat began to spread. The wetness of her underwear suggested she had been lusting for hours, in spite of her anxieties.

Wokun perched himself upon the edge of the bed and beckoned Caera over. She stood before him, her breathing growing heavier as instinctive lust took hold. She straddled her chosen mate, pressing her crotch against his stomach and using his shoulders for balance, before slowly, carefully lowering herself down. The tip of Wokun's cock touched her inner thigh, prompting the female to rise and carefully steer it into position before lowering again. Wokun felt her lower lips caress him, then a subtle resistance as Caera readied herself once more. Her lilac eyes met his own, almost apologetically, before she relaxed and eased down further.
The Lord Governor closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering gasp. One paw held Caera's false mane, the other supported himself as she inched down, rocking her hips ever so slowly to maximise her own comfort and pleasure. He was certainly not going to begrudge that. Soon enough, his knot felt the warm, wet kiss of her passage, and Caera pressed herself against Wokun's chest as she readied herself to commit to the act. Trusting him to take her weight, Caera raised her hips and took the knot, wrapping her legs around Wokun's back in an act that seemed designed to twist and squeeze his length to an almost painful degree. The Lord Governor's eyes snapped open as the pressure on his knot did exactly what it was meant to do; his sac tightened and pulled upward, and with a less than dignified grunt he shot the first load of the evening. The sensation made her jaw quiver, and Wokun felt her own climax take hold as her passage clenched and trembled around his sensitive manhood.
While the first act was over quickly, the mating was not. Kyyreni biology was nothing if not aggressive, and their mating strategy had not developed with fidelity in mind. To pull out would be torturous for both of them now that they were knotted, and so there was only one way forward; Wokun would have to rut her, emptying himself of every last drop of seed until his body surrendered and the knot shrank. He took to the task with determination. Steadying his bridge, Wokun began to thrust, slowly and forcefully, lifting Caera bodily with each movement of her hips and drawing a gasp from her lips with each motion. She began to move in rhythm with him, her entire body tensing and falling limp as though he were striking a switch inside of her. With each thrust he learned more about his new wife, both inside and out. He mapped the folds and contours of her inner passage, becoming aware of the dimpled patch in her deepest point that, upon being struck by his length, would make her give a breathless squeak. It only took a few touches to prompt her to climax, and the tight squeezing that followed helped milk more seed from him.
Between orgasmic bouts, he studied the rest of her body. He found a pace that seemed to satisfy her best, he noted how she moved subtly to steer his paw as it stroked down her back, he listened to the notes of approval as he nipped at her neck. There was some pleasure to be found in the act for him: the total mastery of other. It felt as though he could play Caera like an instrument, allowing him to combine his thrusts, kisses, strokes and bites to draw anything from a contented purr to a shameless wail.
She tired before he did. The last rounds of climactic release were delivered slowly, and with care. The two rocked together, as though Caera were being soothed to sleep, the motions coaxing out forced orgasms that made her huff and whimper. At last, one final release drew nothing but watery pre, and Wokun felt the mixed wetness of his and her fluids begin to soak into the fur of his sac. The pair eased themselves onto the bed, grunting and gasping as tired muscles protested and tender parts flared angrily to the touch. For some time, all they could do was lie still and pant as hammering hearts slowed, breathing shallowed, and sweating ceased.
“I assume that... your current appearance was for tonight only?” Wokun asked in time, trying his best to sound jovial.
His question drew a smirk from Caera. “I'm afraid so. Do you think you could help get this off? It is itching like crazy!” she poked at her mane, and with a little reluctance Wokun complied. Once maneless, and having lost her tail tuft somewhere along the way, Caera now looked curiously perverse to Wokun's eye – an adult-sized cub in many respects. The revelation made him snicker, but he waved away her curiosity.
“I suppose you will return to House Kaahl now?” he asked at last.
“Mhmm. At least until we know,” she rubbed her stomach for clarity. “If I'm with child, our respective families will arrange the rest. Still, my father seems to believe that we won't be much apart; he's confident you will invite him to fill the power vacuum within the City.”
The Lord Governor gave a tired groan, “can I ask for one night free of politicking, Caera?”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” she closed her eyes and dropped her head gracelessly upon his chest. “If it means anything to you, I think you were the most vigorous partner I've ever had.”
Care of a few performance enhancers, Wokun commented internally. “May I ask how many other men you've been with?”
“Four. One in my first Season, two others last year, and one more a few days ago. We used protection, of course,” she added quickly.
“So I'm the best of five? I will take that. I'll also confess that I had my doubts about tonight, for reasons you full-well know, but I have enjoyed our time together. But when we are wed, if you wish to bring another man into your chambers as a concubine, I would have no objections.”
Caera's finger toyed with a strand of his mane fur as she mulled over the idea. “What of you? Do you plan to bring a man into these chambers?”
“Perhaps, in time,” Wokun's mind went immediately to his sister's lover, Guildmaster Kadan. “I would have to find a man who would find such an arrangement desirable first.”
They drifted back into a pleasant silence, resting until the heat of their mating faded from the room. A subtle knock, delivered so shyly it was almost missed was what roused Caera from her torpor. She covered herself and headed to the door, peering out through the thinnest of cracks and sharing a few whispers with whoever lay beyond. When she returned to the bed, Wokun had sat himself upright. “My escort is waiting,” she explained.
“Of course. Have a safe journey home.”
He watched her dress through the corner of his eye, and stayed sat alone for long enough that he felt sure he would not run into her again. Then he stood, uncaring of his nudity, and marched once more for the baths.

He sought out Ylari soon after he'd liberated himself from the remnants of the deed. He had felt good in the moment, but true to his predictions he could not scrub hard or deep enough to feel himself once more. Upon finding her door he lingered, his knuckles hovering an inch away before he cursed the hesitation and rapped hard. A pause followed, and a faint shuffle. “Yes?” his sister called.
“It's me, Wokun. Are you... busy? I would like to talk.”
Another pause followed, lasting a little too long. “Come in.”
Wokun entered, and his nose took in the scene before his eyes could. He only briefly took in the ruffled, sweated appearance of his sister, her decency maintained by a thin sheet. His eyes moved away once more, but his nose remained fixated on the familiar musk of Kadan. “I hope that I did not drive your lover from your bed.”
“He left not long ago,” Ylari assured him. “What's wrong?”
Wokun allowed himself to rest on the edge of her bed. “Caera has left. She... was thoughtful.” He glanced at Ylari's smiling muzzle and saw the look of recognition there. “You knew about her plan?”
“Yes,” the single word said far more with tone than with length.
With a sigh, Wokun tilted back his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I have a request. It will likely sound strange, bizarre even. I... I'd like you to tell me about what it's like to be with him.”
He heard the sheets fall away, and felt the unexpected warmth of his sister's fur against his own. The scent of her was stale and unwelcoming, but the powerful, masculine contrast of Kadan remained clinging to her, giving the aroma a welcome edge. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, and he obeyed.
Ylari shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms as tightly around her brother as she could. “He held me tight, his strong arms clasping me as if he never wished to let me go. His manhood, hard, throbbing, teased against the base of my tail and slid between my cheeks, searching for an opening...”
Wokun shuddered at his sister's tale, his well-worn manhood throbbing painfully as the words drew fresh arousal from him. She described, in blissful detail, every sensation of being mounted by the strong, primal force that was Kadan. She painted for her brother a scene so real that he began to sway in time with the memory, his rear clenching and hips twitching as she recounted the sights, sounds and smells. Her arms became his, muscular and powerful. A phantom cock pressed into Wokun's tailhole, rutting harshly into him, bestial snarls escaping from Kadan's clenched jaws as he pounded harder and faster.
Any sense of shame abandoned, so lost was he in the fantasy, Wokun's paws found his cock and he began to stroke himself. Ylari obliged him, biting down upon his neck and holding him as if he were a bitch in heat, and she the alpha male he longed for. She snarled and grunted as deeply, as forcefully as she could, until with a yelp Wokun spasmed in her grip. A single spurt of cum flew from between Wokun's fingers and pattered into the rug.

The young man opened his eyes, blushing from the intensity of the moment. His thoughts began to crystalise, but before the post-nut clarity could take hold, Ylari swung into his view. “Do not dare feel ashamed for that,” she ordered. “You needed me, and I gave my aid freely. I would do anything for you, sacrifice anything for you, just as I know you would do for me.”
The pair embraced, not as lovers but as family. Wokun allowed himself to break, to gasp and sob as all the doubt and shame he'd carried inside flooded out. It was brief, but much needed. “You are too kind to me,” he whispered as composure returned.
“Someone has to be,” she pulled back enough that he could see her smile, and be assured that all was right between them.
“I think... I should go. It'd hardly fitting for me to be in your room at the best of times,” he rose to leave, but a gentle tug upon his tail made him pause.
Ylari rose to address him. “Wokun? Have you ever spoken to Kadan about your feelings for him?”
“He has made himself clear on that front,” Wokun responded.
“Then... do you wish me to speak to him for you?”
The question made a lump form in Wokun's throat. “I... no. I thank you for the offer but... no. Tonight, your kindness, was enough.”
He took his sister's paw and kissed her knuckle. “I hope the two of you have many long years of happiness together,” he said with absolute sincerity, and excused himself from the chamber.