close but no cigar

The god-prince Ultyr tilted his head as he tried the parse the meaning of her head shake. No…

He narrowed his eyes as he watched her. She wasn’t pulling away from him. Just the tears and the no and a plaintive sigh, defeat at her wordless exchange. Her deep blue eye held an intelligence trapped behind a severed throat. She placed her chin back into his paw, eager to please, eager to follow. He needed more time to get to know her. He couldn’t figure the words behind her eyes yet like he had some of his own silent slaves.

Pleading. She was pleading… the poor little dutiful thing. He’ll get to know her. And she’ll get to know him. She’ll know what it is like to follow a true god. A god that could give her true joy.

He saw her eyes trace his new trophy. A full clawed scar across his face. Skipped his eye either in mercy or accident.

“We’ll find your words. And your name. For now… My little Kitten, let me show you what a real god can do.” He had grown impatient of the topic. He laid her down gently on her back. He placed a paw firmly over her chest to secure her and softly ran his tongue down the length of her leg toward her thigh.

He gave her a moment to process, glancing at her face for moment. Then brought his tongue down her inner thigh and into the space of her hip. Again, he gave her a moment. Licking his own lips.

“You may place your claws on my skin and shake your head if there is pain. Promise me with a nod.” He commands, watching her closely.