Natural Limits

Spoiler Tags: M/F, BunnyGirl, Femdom, Dominant, Restraints, Seduction, Monstergirl, Cowgirl Position, Bonding

*****

The academy seemed quiet, too quiet. I took a deep breath, hoping to settle my nerves before she showed up. My palms were sweating and I hoped I wasn't pitting out of my only dress shirt. I tapped my foot on the stone pathway that ran through the quad. A classmate waved at me while struggling with his luggage, on the way back home for the long spring vacation. I didn't respond because I didn't even notice him, being too busy looking looking at my worn and scuffed boots.

Shit. I forgot to clean them. Now she's gonna think I'm a slob.

My heart raced in my chest and I searched through my pockets, hoping to find some sort of cloth I could use to dispose of the worst of the grime.

Quiet footsteps preceded her entrance into the courtyard, the sun seeming a little brighter with her presence.

Her smile washed away my worries, making me smile in return. "Ready for our date?" She asked with her airy voice that, when combined with her innocent countenance, had led to many underestimating the acerbic wit that hid beneath.

"Yes," I said, my voice squeaking embarrassingly high for a moment.

She giggled, hiding her smile behind her brown skinned hand. Fluffy velvet ears poked out of her head, a foot tall and twitching while she threaded her arm through mine.

So soft. And she smells like sunshine.

"To the gardens!" she proclaimed, freeing me from social awkwardness and reverie.

As we walked, I thought back to when I asked her out earlier this week, my last opportunity before we left our separate ways. I'd clung to my sword to hide my shaking hands. And, when I'd finally pried the words from my mouth with resolute stubbornness, her only response was, "It's about time. Meet me in the quad next tuesday, one o'clock. Don't be late and dress nice." Then she'd strode away, leaving me stunned but joyous standing here.

"It doesn't bother you?" She asked, tilting her head to the side to look at me while we walked.

So close.

"I'm sorry what?" I stammered, petrified that I'd been lost in the past and that she'd noticed me not paying attention.

She smirked, leaning into my side and looking back towards where we were traveling. "Just poking a little fun. It's cute to see you panic. It doesn't bother you that we're different races?"

"...No. Should it?"

She examined my face carefully for a moment. "It seems to for a fair amount of people. Especially with all the talk of war floating around."

"I think you're a lovely woman Artemis, both in face and demeanor. And I hope to get to know you better."

She laughed, loud and freely.

My cheeks blushed.

"You can do away with all the 'thees' and 'thous'. I don't put much stock in it and much prefer plain speak. Thank you for the kind words, and I also consider you attractive. I thought it was sweet the way you pined after me for so long before working up your courage."

My blush deepened and I reached for the steadying presence of the pommel at my hip, gripping it in a white knuckled grasp. "But a lady of such bearing deserves language befitting her. I know I am no poet, but you-"

"Paul..." The word came from her lips chilly enough to freeze my spine. "Paul Pierson, if you do not listen then we are going to have a poor time of it."

"Yes, ma'am," I responded to her like I would my teacher in drill class.

Pinching her lips she tilted her head down, staring at me with those soft green eyes.

Waiting.

"Yes Artemis."

Her expression immediately brightened. "Excellent, now we are almost there."

The gardens were beautiful, laid out in the six pointed star of the academy, each point a different color that represented the joined nations that built it. Within the center, there were a series of six benches arranged in a circle. Artemis directed us toward one. Taking a moment, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep.

"Did you know this is my favorite spot in the academy?"

"I do now."

Remember to buy flowers for her next time.

"It's so orderly and constrained, but it's a step in the right direction. It's missing that untamed chaos of the wilderness. The struggle, the fight." Her eyes glossed over with memory. Releasing my arm, she sat on the bench near the yellow colored portion of the garden, the one representing my own race of humanity.

I sat next to her, eager to continue the conversation that was going much better than my imaginings. "I don't know much about Bunyip culture, but what I have learned is fascinating. What is with the markings?" I asked, pointing to the golden line running up her forearms.

"Aren't you delightful? They're part of our caste system. The more lines, the higher up in the hierarchy. If you ever see a Bunyip with symbols on her face you'd best be polite because that indicates royalty."

"A caste system, isn't that antiquated? What if a person wants to rise above his or her place of birth?" I asked before I realized how insensitive that might be perceived. "I mean..."

"I take no offense. And you would be right. But my caste is not determined by my birth but rather by my contribution to our society. A soldier is of a similar caste to a breadmaker. But both would be under that of a general or shaman."

"Then how does one get training or is assigned an occupation?" Curiosity about her and her culture easing my nervousness. I delighted in watching her talk, it being a full bodied, evocative gesture laden affair with her.

Starting out from her chest, she spread her hands out wide in an encompassing arc. "A council of our peers get together and discusses it after our graduation from general education."

"Without your input?"

"No. That's silly." Waving away the idea, she continued. "We are included in the council and have final say in the decision, but we have to take one of the options presented."

"It seems like it could lead to some nepotism."

Her head bounced over each shoulder. "I'm not saying it's a perfect system, but it feels better than what you humans seem to favor."

"What's wrong with the way we do things?"

"Hmmmmm. Nobility for one, off the top of my head."

I'd been so ready to defend my people's way of life but I couldn't argue with her at that one. "They can be distasteful," I said slowly, my face pinched like I'd bitten into a sour lemon.

She chortled, covering her mouth with mock modesty while her ears folded forward. "So bold. You should hold back some, no telling who might be listening." Her sarcasm brought a blush to my cheeks.

"They can be real twats, can't they?" I admitted softly, pleased to see her enjoying herself.

"There you go. Now, I'm not saying the idea is unsound. Giving people responsibility to make sweeping decisions that affect the good of the many rather than the individual. And I'm not saying that such responsibility should not come with certain perks. But, I think that some have lost sight that they should work for the good of their people. And that such status does not confer upon them greater dignity and endowment than those they lead."

"You speak as though you've given this a great deal of thought."

She smiled enigmatically. "I guess you could say that. It's crossed my mind a time or two."

"So, back to the caste system. If you're here at the academy, I must assume that you've graduated from your general education. What caste were you placed in that led you here?"

She waved her hand in front of her nose, her eyes glazing over with a splash of fear and nervousness. "I think we've talked enough about me and my people. I don't want you to think I'm one of your bloviated twat nobles, do I?"

"I never called them bloviated."

She grasped at my arm and my skin sang with her presence. Dancing, her eyes drank in my reaction with calculating ease. "Just tell me about yourself. I know next to nothing other than you aspire to be a soldier and are diligent in your studies, never partaking of the wide variety of vices that seem to affect our compatriots."

I coughed, nervous about talking about myself in any great aspect. Talking about my family seemed like a safe enough middle ground. Her eyes watched me with interest as I told her about my brother and sister and our farm; my time spent as a town guard and how I won my berth to the academy through my woodsmanship and skill with a blade. I yawned halfway through a story about how I'd gotten a lucky strike against an instructor and had to flee with all the swiftness of my small frame. Rolling my lips inward, I pressed my teeth down, aghast at my impropriety.

I looked forward to this so much that I wasn't able to get a lick of sleep last night.

Giggling, she slid over a little on the bench, creating space.

Damnit. Now I've gone and fucked this up.

Wringing my hands in my lap, I tried to think up a way to say I wasn't tired or bored at all with the date, and how great of a time I was having without sounding like a schmuck. She smiled at me and patted her thighs.

"Come rest your head."

The words tangled into a mess but flowed out of my mouth anyway. "Iwasn whadoyou mean?"

During the time it took me to compose myself she giggled and ran her fingers through her hair that flowed over the front of her shoulder.

"Let me try again."

"By all means, go right ahead."

"...What?" I asked, pointing to her lap.

"What do you mean, what? If those bags under your eyes are any indicator, you're lacking in sleep."

I have bags under my eyes?!

I fought the urge to scrub them.

"That's... Not something regularly done in human society?"

"Oh... Really?" She sounded disappointed. "That's too bad." Wistful and slightly put out, she chewed on the edge of her cheek, looking out over the garden.

I too looked nervously out over the garden and gathered my courage. Spinning on my rear, I swung my legs out over the edge of the bench and laid my head onto her thighs.

I hope no one sees this.

"Oof," she said in surprise, looking down at me.

Shy and awkward about the vulnerable position, I spoke just to relieve the tension. "Hello."

"Hi," she replied. For the first time of the day she seemed just as shy and awkward as me. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder in a sweeping motion.

I was entranced for a motion by the proximity and angle of her breasts, catching myself before she noticed and directed my attention safely toward the blue sky.

"My mother does this for me when I'm young and stressed." She wiggled her fingers over my face. "If you don't mind?"

"Go right ahead." My back was tight, my shoulder blades tensed cautiously, unsure about what she intended.

She smells like the forest near my home; it was a comforting, earthy scent.

At my permission, she sunk her fingers into my short black hair, pressing down on my scalp with gentle pressure. It felt wonderful, and the feeling seemed to seep from my head, trickling down the rest of my body in a relaxing wave. I folded my hands over my stomach and smiled. Artemis was pleased to see me finally relax, and began to chat with me once more, continuing her finger's gentle massage of my scalp.

So went my first date with the incomparable Artemis.

Over the course of the next two weeks, we existed in a state of blissful naivety. Cautiously dancing around each other in a strange courtship between people from two different cultures. Well, it was mostly me orbiting around her while she drew me along, teasing and teaching me in equal measures. It was fun, bright, and a revelation about what life could be like with a partner by my side. Artemis took delight in pushing my buttons and laughing at my responses. I took delight in her familiarity, being somewhat adrift in the social oceans of the academy before I reached out to her. She was enthralling, so full of confidence and passion. I fell under her spell, halfway towards love.

Then the orders came, recalling me to a local outpost for additional orders. War had come for us, and our young love was but the first of its many victims.

"Captain, they are at the walls, give the men permission to fire. Please," one of my lieutenants pleaded with me. I'd called her into my office along with her compatriots.

The two and a half years from my time at the academy had aged me beyond their span. I rubbed at the bags under my eyes, looking once more at the parchment on my desk. Hoping some magic would change the words on the paper. Some unknown force would reach in and make all this suffering worth something. "...No. Tell the men to lay down your arms and open the gates."

"What?!" Another lieutenant shouted, his maul sized hands clenching into frustration. "You can't."

I narrowed my eyes and the giant man took a step back in fear. Silence reigned. I waited long enough for a bead of sweat to form on his brow and run down his cheek. I picked up a piece of parchment from my desk. "Orders. We all have them. I'm no different from you in that aspect. Dismissed!"

The sharp command was met with crisp salutes as all but one of my underlings shuffled from the room. The one who'd pleaded with me hung at the threshold, risking my wrath. "Sir, there are rumors that the savages are looking for-"

"Dismissed," I repeated more softly this time.

Tears stained her eyes as she hovered in place, anguished.

"I'll be fine, Cookie," I said gently, using her nickname. "Remind the men that our visitors are not to be harmed, no matter what happens. My troops will not be the ones to reignite this war."

"Sir, yes sir," she said, her voice husky with emotion. She snapped another sharp salute before departing, letting the door swing closed behind her.

My captains jacket felt heavy on my shoulders, the medals dangling from it's breast impossible to carry any longer. I set it on the coat rack by the door, hanging my immaculate hat on top of its collar. All that was left was my clean white shirt, brown slacks with yellow accents and my well worn boots. Unbuckling my sword, I laid it on the desk, right on top of my recently received orders, the words still ringing in my head.

Unconditional surrender. Acquiesce to any request.

The brass had thrown me to the wolves, barely hiding that fact in 'civilized' words. I was going to burn for what they'd done.

Though that's hardly unfair. After everything that has happened. Everything I've done... Karma eventually catches up with us all.

I was sitting in my comfy chair in the corner when they came for me, four of them with their wooden battle masks, featureless but for the holes cut for their eyes. The said nothing as they approached, heavy short swords pointed threatening at me, watching my every move. Tall ears twitched to and fro, alert for any sound of an ambush. A small smirk crossed my lips.

Seems my reputation precedes me.

I folded my fingers across my lap; the small motion made all four of them simultaneously jump.

"Captain Paul Pierson?" The man's voice echoed from behind the mask menacingly.

"Present," I said jokingly, unwilling to deny myself a slice of gallows humor.

The speaker eyed me carefully before retrieving a parchment from the satchel at his back, the point of his sword never wavering. Eyes darted between my face and the parchment for a couple tense seconds.

"It's him."

"What gave it away? My winning personality?"

Taking a gourd out of his pack, he tossed it to me with his hand not filled with a lethal instrument.

I gave the Bunyip a blank look. "What's this?"

"It's a nice cold ale," he scoffed sarcastically. "Drink it. Or else."

"Or else what? You'll finally bloody your blade? Go home to mommy a real man," I mocked.

His eyes narrowed behind the slits of the mask and the point of his sword quivered.

"Easy there, don't get your panties in a bunch soldier. I've no intention of resisting. What's a little teasing between mortal enemies, right?" Popping the cork on the gourd, I upended the thing in a string of gulping swallows. "Not bad. A little grainy on the teeth. It's got good body, and are those... hints of... maple... I taste." My head lolled forward and I slumped back into the chair, finding it far too much effort to remain upright.

I awoke in a strange place, fully naked but comfortable despite that. I was sitting on a small wooden chair. The animal sounds indicated I was outside, but the temperature was a humid warmth uncharacteristic for the lateness of the season.

Quiet footsteps preceded a stranger's entrance into the glade. I stayed relaxed, my arms held loosely by my sides, organic restraints encircling my wrists and ankles, curbing any escape attempt before it even got off the ground. I showed no indication of having heard their entrance.

Let them make the first move. Knowledge is my only weapon in this situation.

Whatever plans I'd had went out the window when the stranger spoke. I tensed as if punched in the gut. The sound of their voice, of her voice, bounced around my ears like a crossbow bolt, preventing me from processing the sound as words.

It can't be, it's a trick.

She spoke again, her voice painfully exquisite to hear, an oasis I'd feared never to sip from but in my memory. "Hello captain. I thank you for the gracious surrender. Your actions saved many lives on both sides of this war."

I swallowed, my throat raw from the lump in it.

It can't be her. It can't be.

Horror dripped in my veins, freezing my blood like mountain runoff.

And if it is her... If she's here, please don't let her recognize me.

She leaned in close, her breath smelling of apricots and teasing my ear with its warmth. "It's good to see you again, Poppy."

My eyes were pried open against my will, anguish forcing a cry from my lips. She stood much like I'd remembered her. The same teasing smile. The same effortless grace. The way she cocked her hips and folded her arms across her chest.

The way my blade felt when it slammed into the scouts back. My hands shaking as I pried away the mask, hoping that I wouldn't see-

I jerked my head to the side, breaking her green eyed stare. Allowing me to close my eyes once more, this time tears leaking from the edges in a slow rolling flood that dripped from my chin to the forest floor.

Her chin tilted to the side curiously. "Why do you look away from me? While at the academy you couldn't keep your eyes off me. Always stumbling over your own feet just to catch another glance." She gasped in a flimsy acting job.

I cautiously peered from behind the foggy glass of my tears.

"Do you hate my race?" Turning around, she presenter her rear, twitching her hips so it jiggled and bounced. She caught me staring. "No, I don't think that's what it is..." Tapping a toe on the ground and a finger against her chin, she seemed to puzzle over the conundrum.

As she did, I examined her for the first time in years.

She was older, and it sat in the regal set of her shoulders. It emphasised the discrepancies between us, my spine straining under the weight of my sins in the intervening years. The dark brown fur of her tall ears had lightened, the richness tempered like she'd spent some time in the sun. The golden lines of her markings were no longer contained within the span of her forearms, they'd bloomed into an intricate tapestry that danced across her skin in a story I couldn't quite read. Beautiful and exotic, the lines were clean and symmetrical, two sections standing out above their brethren, catching my attention. The first, a sweeping dagger whose handle started at her throat, and whose point ended just below her prominent collar bone. It drew the eye to her breasts that were constrained by a simple shoulderless top of soft cream. The other pattern was a blooming tree on her face, whose roots were placed atop her sweet lips. The main trunk ran up the bridge of her nose while two offshoots split off from either nostril, all three had their branches reaching up to her hairline. Her hair was a dark mass that was braided into a central column that ran down her back. Her teeth made a small appearance from the side as a smirk stretched her lips. Thick curling lashes bracket her eyes like wings of a fallen angel; golden amber irises looked out from behind them, calculating, intelligent and inscrutable. Slender fingers tapped crossed forearms, the taps landing just above thin soft-gold bracelets.