Ai Love Therapy Ch. 06

Which was the problem. What if this was a clever ruse? A stratagem to form an attachment, then a month later, she would comply with any of their demands if they threaten or simply took the thing away. Jeston didn't even need complicity of these plots and tactics, any faun (Monjafar's snarling face popped into mind) with half a brain would realize the advantage of this leverage. What was a little sex compared to her pet? How much of herself would she sacrifice over an innocent gift?

"Do you not like it?"

Blinking, Irene realized she'd paused too long dealing with psychological-induced turmoils. "Forgive me, it is just that I don't know much about the care of this species. I have too much respect for living creatures to not want it properly cared for."

Jeston didn't frown, but his face transitioned into a neutral mask she associated with his diplomatic training, those whorls on his brow stretching flat. His back stiffened, though, producing a more military bearing to the man, likely falling back on old habits. "I only thought you would appreciate her. A tmyas is highly sought after as pets in Aoir, I'm sure you're Lady In Waiting can help with care instruction."

Great, I hurt His Royal Feelings, Irene thought, not willing to burn this bridge at the moment. "And I will appreciate...her." The hesitation slight, but if part of her smile when she took the open crate out of his hands strained at the edges, there was unrepentant joy gushing inside her. Irene just needed to add this new puzzle onto the pile of her broken life and solve it like everything else. "Thank you."

Jeston smiled, tipping his head and moving hooves in something from the Dance that Irene didn't catch, though clearly she salvaged this round. The Prince preened. "You are welcome. And now if you will excuse me, affairs of state never sleep in Yrlmuh, and I have a meeting to attend. I look forward to hearing more about your day when we meet again tonight." He gave a slight bow and revolved politely to trot away.

Looking between the box filled with the wonderful and beautiful Tanya - yes, it was too late now, she had named her - Irene froze in place in front of the open door to the hallway, Jeston cantering with the guards following. Because all the banter, the up and down this waking up, now having Tanya in her care, she managed to forget about his cock. His erect, hard, thick, surprisingly pale skinned hunk of meat imprinted into her oculars the moment he turned away from the protection of the box and all her gibbering female cavewoman wanted was his succulent breeding stick insider her box!

"I need to find the Pantheons and give them a serious slapping," Irene muttered, carefully closing the lid on the carrying case and hefting it up. She didn't get three clops into the empty hall before Dryn scurried from the shadows, a warm damp towel and Irene's clothing for lessons held at the ready.

"I just heard from Ulirien in the kitchens who heard from Grob at the gate that you got a tmyas?!" the fussy girl asked in with a burst of thrilled energy, taking the box away while stripping Irene's workout orange clothing and pink bra, then quickly wicking dried sweat and latherine with the towel. For a tense moment Irene glanced about, but the hallway under the palace remained quiet and empty, her bloated and red and moisting mons on full display. Dryn didn't take any note and kept going on. "I used to dream about having one, but my family could never afford something so exotic. They say even without much thaumian training, you can mentally enter their minds then fly around in the sky with your best friend."

"Can you arrange to have Tanya fed and set something up in my room, please?" Irene asked, pulling a bodice corset over her head - white poofy sleeves and navy blue body - huffing a breath out when Dryn cinched the back. The push in the bust thrust boobs up and together, making them double ginormous and high enough to rest her chin between them, but thankfully there was a lot of padding and Irene's nipples weren't visibly poking. "I don't know anything about their needs. Until I can get the right books tonight I'll rely on your judgment." She clopped into the white and blue stripped harem pants, looping sashes to tie everything down properly at the calf and waist. A tad garish for Earth Irene's tastes, but nothing in this city was reserved or conservative when it came to clothing. That, and the thick silk dribbled through her fingers like oil, it was so smooth. "I have my first class up in the garden, so I'm going to have to hoof it if I want to avoid Mrs. h'Zin lecturing on tardiness again."

"Aundreela's tongue is well known for serpent sharpness."

Both girls spun, Dryn striking fast Dances with hoof and shoulder displaying polite subservience, Irene remained stock still. Monjafar glided forward, accompanied with two of his crony guards. Again dressed in long covering black robes, only exposing part of his face under a deep hood and gnarled hands, the ancient faun couldn't have thrown more flags at Irene he was a villain than if he built a death ray and cursed Reed Richards. Asking surreptitiously the past week, she learned Monjafar suffered a crippling illness in his youth and the robes covered deformities. With Irene's newly enhanced sense of smell, the dry aroma of a crypt following him where ever he silently shuffled, giving credence to some form of physical ailment. Whether he was Doctor Doom or only a creep, she didn't know. Irene wasn't foolish enough to act without glaring proof. Yet.

I need to learn how to trot silently with hooves, Irene chided, heart-rate pounding hard enough to break a rib, her face fixed in serenity. "Good morning, venerable one. I have no issue with the sharpness of my Dance instructor. It's her job to teach me etiquette, I'm sure there's no ill will between myself and Mrs. h'Zin."

His condescending smirk didn't waver, though eyes brightened with fire as he dry washed gnarled hands. "Of course. I only wanted to comment on the imminent arrival of the an'Raois princes, including the grand feast hosting many important dignitaries. Specifically, as I am sure you gathered, dearest Jeston is sometimes remiss when showing proper decorum and does not find offense with...immodest attire." He pointedly gave her outfit critical inspection, ostensible frown clear indication she failed. "As I am sure you wish only civility towards the royal house, I shall ensure the seamstresses provide more traditional fashions for your wardrobe. Want to find you an appropriate suitor during the grand feast, if Jeston is still lacking to your tastes." His grin curled possessively as he leaned forward. "If I were a younger man, I might have tried winning your hand myself, Irene."

Bile, in her mouth. ...his face dripping with rot as flesh sloughed off bone and dripped into her screaming mouth. She struggled to escape, even as fetid diseased cum burst into her... Yeah, didn't take a psychology degree to connect the dots from the dream last night. Gulping acid, she smoothly replied, "I am flattered. I took you more for a man pursuing academia. I must seem like an infant to you, being so new to this world. However, we have to go. Thank you for your courteous words, I'm sure you also have places to be." Spinning her hoof on the flagstone, she quickly trotted down the hall without looking back, Dryn a moment's scramble behind.

Behind the escaping pair, the clap of a hand slapping flesh and muttered angry words that Irene couldn't hear echoed. However, what the seneschal did to his servants was not her issue and she pointedly ignored it.

"You shouldn't antagonize him, Milady," Dryn whispered when they reached the stairs, well enough away from whatever happened. "He was the trusted right hand of Prince Jeston's grandfather, he led the magi corps during the final push of the war with McCroann and the dryads. He might be here serving under Third Prince Jeston, but every servant in the palace here knows who is in charge of whom." Juggling the case with Tanya, she thrust a cloth sack into Irene's hands. "Now eat your breakfast."

Irene glared at her friend - the harried faun wasn't hungry, constant stress of living in Evma edging into a disorder at this point - but she reached in and pulled out a handful of savory trailmix, a favorite breakfast meal for most fauns and began chomping. Nuts, seeds, fruit, jerky, all seasoned heavily and roasted, the trailmix extremely hearty and filling, only a cup or two enough for an adult's breakfast. Irene's morning bag was five pounds since Dryn became convinced Irene needed to eat more.

Which, at first, Irene was unwilling to eat more if it was only going to lead to stomach cramps. Nevertheless, based on the advice of her plump friend, if Irene wanted less Heat and less hormone problems, she needed more meat on her bones. Which didn't make sense from a human, Earth perspective, but Miss Kitty assured Irene this was the case with faun physiology. Until the science got explained proper, she was taking it on faith and forced food down. THAT argument lasted most of a night and remained one of the few things Dryn adamantly wouldn't retreat from. Unless willing to bulldoze over her friend, Irene was willing to test the theory and stuffed herself four times a day. It helped, also, Irene possessed a larger and chambered faun stomach, allowing her to eat even when anxiety adrenaline should induce vomiting.

To bad all this food is going straight to boobs, Irene grumbled, chewing her next mouthful while climbing endless flights of stairs to the sixth level and tutored lessons, clothing tailored a freakin' week ago already pinching her décolletage, needing to be let out. If I keep eating like this, I'll turn into a titty boulder chasing tomb raiding archaeologists out of temples!

********************

*slam!*

"How do I use my dildo?!" Irene yelled, kicked the door closed with another bang.

Dryn blinked owlishly, setting a bowl of food next to other bowls and a pet bed finer than Irene's, a tiny corner of decadence. She wore a brown tunic instead of her apron, indicating she was here as a friend instead of a servant. "Do you want to take care of Tanya first? Or should we wait until after you wake from an orgasm coma?"

The day had not gone well after workout that morning. Mostly spent in her garden, a steady stream of tutoring lectured uninterrupted for ten hours. Not her new typical schedule, as the Prince had actually let her attend less lessons to allow more free time. With the impending arrival of Jeston's brothers, Irene took initiative to learn more about Aoir politics and - in the case of today - a constant soliloquy on the economical state of the faun homeland. In short, they exported a lot of exotic, often enchanted formed of treated lumber. Fun times, Irene spent ten hours learning everything from forestry to press treatments to tariffs. The tariffs were the worst, her economics tutor terrified when she noticed Irene grinding her teeth, finishing hastily and releasing the repressed woman from a chalkboard spreadsheet of numbers.

Back in her room, arousal and edging denial stole their due and made it clear that they won the war. Irene snarled, hands twitching and her vision tunneled. It was too much and Irene needed unleashed relief! She spun and punched the door, screaming pent-up sexual frustration whipped to a frenzy, hardly stringing two thoughts together anymore. Form was good, but there wasn't any focus in the punch, meaning the wood didn't break and neither did her bones. Three knuckles split and dripped dark blood. The pain was good, it helped calm the blinding vexation enough to repeat her mantra. More than pain, though, shame brought Irene back from the brink. Her eyes blurred with tears but didn't fall. "Sorry. Yes, let's take care of Tanya first."

"I don't understand why you did this to yourself, why you don't grab any guy, have fun and be over with it. Fauns aren't a bunch of repressed Breen. Jeston isn't promised to you and until you put on his bracelet, it isn't only accepted to have sex with anyone during Heat, it is expected." Dryn finished in a huff, maybe with accusation, maybe recrimination, Irene couldn't tell. She lifted the pet box and opened the lid, revealing Tanya inside. "Don't think I'm done lecturing: we'll talk more in a minute."

Irene gulped harsh replies, keeping to the mantra. Nobody liked being wrong, but the psychologist could hold questions and concerns to herself. Deal with problems in order of priority.

Holding up a scroll with flowery script, Dryn waved it at Irene as if she reading Irene's mind. "Before you get all indignant, the tmyas is under a hibernation enchantment which ends when someone touches her, according to the instructions provided. I didn't feed her yet because you need to be the one making first contact. She is perfectly fine, but the company the Prince purchased her from did it this way to ensure proper imprinting."

"What do you mean, imprinting?" Irene asked, this whole thing deteriorating the further she dug into the hole. "Am I about to make this thing my slave? I won't do it if that's the case."

Dryn stared, nibbling a lip and plainly wanted to argue with that. She unrolled the scroll and read through the cramped elegant instructions again. "They use the term symbiotic a number of times. I don't think so. I have no practical experience and there's not enough details." Rolling the scroll up she rubbed fleshy eyebrow whorls with exhaustion. "If you don't want her, give her back to the Prince and be done with it."

Irene shook her head, shoulders slumping as she gave up. "This is a whole lot of bad choices and I don't think I'm capable of making the right ones." Looking down at the sleeping Tanya, Irene steeled herself and reached out, nearly grasping warm fur. "I just need to touch her, right?" Dryn nodded and Irene placed her hand on Tanya.

Magic was so weird, and Irene still expected different. She though maybe a kind of door opening, or a tether or something. Instead, it was like watching her child open eyes for the first time. Wary of Irene's maternal capacity - the relationship with her mother leaving soured expectations - there was a fear buried deep of loving her own child, a broken connection scarred over from childhood. In a moment those fears dissolved as she held something so precious and vulnerable in her mind. It wasn't like a touch or physical sensation, more that innocence washed away anxiety and Irene responded with gushing, painful love out of her heart. Surprisingly pure, her time in the palace so stressful she thought her ability to give atrophied away entirely.

Arms wrapped around behind, Irene realizing Dryn silently moved for a hug. Irene cried, and somehow Tanya was in her arms, chirping softly and blinking as she snuggled into Irene's bosom. Irene held her tight, unwilling to let go. So much of the earther's life was gone, then one long fight to stay alive, to stay sane, to feel, to not feel. By itself, Irene felt she might have survived, if she had a place to retreat and recover. But it was constant, a new challenge cropping up every day and it never stopped. No one, no matter how capable, could marathon anxiety like she had for weeks now. And the anxiety remained, but for a moment, Irene forgot and relaxed.

"Were you able to find anything about Ai?" Irene asked, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime able to center and heal. Yet healing didn't mean wasting daylight, stuff still needed doing. "That adventurer's guild cost a lot of tung, but they assured us they were capable city hunters."

"Need to let them work, Irene," Dryn said, pulling a roll of clean cloth and wrapping up Irene's bleeding hand, knotting it around her wrist to give Irene free movement. "This is a large city and all you have is a name. The Sex Emporium was no help, they have an iron clad non-disclose policy and wouldn't budge. It could take years to find your friend, if she is even here at all, which you can't be sure of."

"Ai is here," Irene said, so certain. She wanted to say it was a union of the soul, or some other cosmic affinity, but mostly it was just a hope so strong she knew it reached delusion. "If there was any way to fall into a crazy fantasy world filled with monsters and magic, that little pervert would find a way."

Dryn said nothing. The feeling of Tanya in her mind faded as the baby went into a natural sleep instead of induced hibernation. Irene sighed, fixing mental guards back into place while carefully setting the tmyas into her bed and edging the bowls of seeds and nuts and water closer in case she woke. There would be plenty of time later for this new life, but right now Irene's body reminded her of urgent, pulsating needs. "Alright, time for me to get off."

Dryn didn't bother arguing, clopping hooves rushing and hands grabbing various things from here and there. "I know you don't tell me everything, and I'm not blind that you have good reasons to keep things close to the fur, but can you at least give me a hint as to why you haven't masturbated in seven days?"

"I'm scared," Irene whispered, stretching behind her to pull knots free and unbind the corset, shimmying out of the bodice then attacking the sashes of her pants. Maybe it wasn't the wisest move, but she hoped Dryn could be trusted with a few answers. "Think of if it had happened to you: one day, you wake up in a body completely radically different from the one you spent an entire life in. You adapt, slowly, but then it forces you to do something you have no control over. Your own body, and it isn't you in control. All you can do is watch from inside as urges you have no experience puppet you around and all you do is scream silently inside your head. When it is over, you return to yourself, but now you are an addict, and that addiction is building up again. Every day is a waking horror, wondering if you'll give in and become a gibbering slut spreading for the nearest willing phallic while they wipe the drool from your mouth and cold cum dribbling onto your fur. So I'm scared, and I've realized over the last seven days that I'm not strong enough to fight it any longer. The next step is to regulate this addiction before is consumes me."

Pulling the rest of her clothing off - including her bracelet, which turned the entire room into a teen's dorm, the musk saturating so thick - Irene realized Dryn stopped moving, holding a bottle of lube and a small daisy yellow stone, mouth open and slack. Grumbling at herself for sharing far more than she wanted, Irene tried waving it off with a nonchalant smile. "Anyway, I wanted to test myself and now I think I know my limits. The next step is to see what kind of limits I will break in the other direction."

"I want you to know this isn't normal for any faun, no matter what you might think about our hedonisms," Dryn replied after an uncomfortably long pause, going back to gathering up everything. "I don't even think it is normal for a demonic, though you don't have the right smell so it isn't that. Know I'll always be here to help, whatever you need, and if anything thinks to shame you for improper behavior I'll help hide the body."

Irene couldn't stop grinning, it felt so good to air that into the open. "Thank you, Dryn. Now! Is it just me or do you think I've lost weight?"

"You have," Dryn said bluntly, peering at the lube and rock and setting them on the bed next to the dildo case, pulling a knotted cord out of her tunic. "Need to eat more, you are burning calories faster than five women your age. When you return from the Prince, I'll have the kitchen send something filling." She efficiently took the cord and looped it around various target areas of Irene's body, counting the knots each time.