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His Killer, His Maid

for Catsithx

by Draconicon

Ink-Eyes felt the familiar spasms coming up from between her legs, and the pale rat stopped to lean on a tree. Her fingers, each individually wrapped with dark strands of leather, clenched tightly against the rotted bark, her claws sinking through into the dying wood beneath. Her breath hissed past the wrap around her muzzle, and she bit down on the leather, waiting for the cramps to pass.

Instead, they rose faster, higher, making her insides twist and writhe even as her loincloth drenched with her juices. A lustful pain seized her, like a fist in her gut, squeezing and wreching her as if it would pull her inside-out if it didn't get sated soon. It had been steadily growing worse over the last week, but this was the worst that they had yet reached. If she didn't debase herself soon -

Ink-Eyes put the thought out of her head, looking towards the spires in the distance cutting through the swamp-mist. He wasn't far off now. Soon enough, she'd get what her body needed and her spirit loathed. Soon enough, the blood-price would buy her relief.

When the cramps eased enough for her to keep moving, she did, sharp claws raking furrows through the mud as she walked rather than leaped. The aches had reached the point where it affected her balance, and she dared not throw herself too violently forward and miss the safe spaces. Her teeth gnashed and ground together at the thought of falling into one of the hidden holes in the muck; eventually, she would pull herself free, but by then, the pain would be worse, and enough time might have passed that her master -

She spat in the muck. The taste of that word, even unspoken, was as vile as bile in her mouth. The fact that she even had one, she, Ink-Eyes, the slayer of the mists, was beyond shameful. The fact that he had her kill his targets rather than her own was bad enough; what he demanded for her ease was shame incarnate.

Yet, she walked ahead, eventually reaching the manor. It was a small thing, as such buildings went in this world. Not like the great towers that stood elsewhere in Kamigawa, where the rooftops and pagodas stretched, at times, into the dozens of stories. No, this was a mere three stories tall, with sloping rooftops and balconies, with moss hanging from the corners and phantom-lights that only illuminated the paths for those special few with eyes like hers.

She found the door and stepped through, tracking mud as she went. Her fingers clenched so tight that they bled, her shoulder thumping against the hallway wall as she dragged herself along. Mud, slime, and moss were ground against the wooden panels that lined the hallway, but the rat had long since ceased caring about the propriety of things. If ordered - and even then, begrudgingly - she might have cleaned it, but until then, it was her small, petty revenge against the feline that had taken her free will and twisted it to his will.

The hallway led to a stairwell, and she followed it to the top floor. The bedroom was immediately off to the left, and she could hear the sound of thumping, grinding, moaning, screaming. Ink-Eyes gritted her teeth, feeling the ache coming again. It surged through her, rising from her sex to her womb, and from there twisting the bottoms of her lungs and threatening to drive the air from her chest. Pain, incarnate, but even as it stole her breath, it forced her open, her inner walls cramping down, then somehow expanding, stretching, wanting something that was not there. Her core felt empty, and her body knew a hunger for something that she had never wanted.

She needed it. She needed it now.

Ink-Eyes pushed the door open, knowing that she had permission from her master to interrupt anything that he was doing when she returned from a job, with the only exception being sleep. She let the door shut behind her, standing there silently as she saw almost what she expected.

The master fucking one of his other breeder-slaves was to be expected. The hedonistic, dark-furred feline was not one that would hold himself to just one partner. He had many sluts that were drugged just as she was, their wills robbed away, taken, put somewhere that they would never get back. She gritted her teeth as she imagined what would happen to her if she was away for much longer, the desperation taken further, the utter hate for the moment growing ever higher -

"Ah! Master, oh, oh! More!"

The lioness in the bed was the unexpected wrinkle. Once, the lioness had been a foe of hers, a dangerous guardian to some of the forces of order in the cities. They had sparred time and time again, knife against blade, and the other had been there to stop her as many times as she had been there to beat the lioness down. They had crossed blades and shed blood more times than she could have cared to count.

Ink-Eyes had never imagined that the other woman would have fallen to her master. She never would have thought to see her bent over, shoved against the sheets, her ass up and her mouth hanging open in purest pleasure.

The master looked at her as he kept up his rut. The maid outfit - that hated garment - was pushed up over the lioness's ass, keeping her exposed, her legs covered in sheer stockings that took away her warrior pride and left her looking like nothing more than his personal plaything. She had lost all power, and looked like nothing but a lowly whore.

Clench.

Squeeze.

Pain.

The fires of the cramps within struck again, and it took everything that Ink-Eyes had to stay on her feet, her toes curling against the carpet and digging in. She kept the hiss behind her face-wrap, but only barely, and her entire body went tense with the effort of keeping herself upright.

I...need...it...

No, her body needed it. The poison, the drug, whatever it was the master had slipped her, was still affecting her, and would keep affecting her until she had her dose. The lioness was panting, begging, moaning, thrusting her hips back to meet the black cat's frenzied thrusts. Her juices stained the bed, the dress, everything, making the room as slimy as the swamp without in some places.

Finally, the master finished. He pulled the lioness's tail, holding her down against his groin as he came, and came, and came. Each shot seemed to drive the lioness to greater heights of bliss, and she slumped down in a limp, relaxed state that Ink-Eyes knew all too well. The sudden absence of pain could be the greatest bliss that anyone could ever feel.

There was no gentleness. The black cat pulled out, rubbing his cock against the lioness's pussy before climbing out of bed. He gave the other, golden-furred feline a light shove, and she fell to the side. She'd be dismissed before long, Ink-Eyes knew.

Meanwhile, the master stepped off the bed and over to a small table on the other side of the room. He sat down on the one chair beside it - he never offered them a place to sit, just floorspace to kneel - and he poured himself a glass of wine. Red, of course.

"Is he dead?" the cat asked.

"Mm."

"Completely?"

"..."

"Heh. Look who I'm asking."

Ink-Eyes said nothing, though the offensive question would have led to the death of anyone else. She didn't dare kill this one, though. The master - Felix, as he called himself before the betrayal - had made sure that her bloody ways wouldn't be a choice worth making with him.

As he sipped the wine, the lioness slowly gathered herself. She took off the dress and laid it at the foot of the bed, standing up with nothing on but her fur. The black cat sent her away with a wave of his hand, then turned his attention back to the rat.

"You're filthy."

"The swamp's dirty. So's business."

"You'll clean yourself before I touch you."

"Hmph."

"But not yet."

"..."

"She left a mess. Come here."

She knew what was coming. The rat's jaw clenched again as she dragged herself from where she stood, moving closer and closer. The smell of sex - and more particularly, his sex - burned in her nose, giving her more of the hunger and less of the pain. Her insides wanted the cute, temporary as it was, and they wanted it as soon as they could get it. Everything hurt, everything ached, and everything needed something to take that away again. Whatever she could do to take this need away, she would do it.

The black cat looked down at her as she kneeled between his legs, reaching around her head to the back of the collar wrapped around her neck. He slid his fingers through the bed, getting a grip on the leather before slowly twisting it. Her breath came shorter and shorter as he did, but she didn't let it show on her face. This, at least, was something that she knew how to handle.

"I took you in, remember?" he asked. "I took you in, cleared your debts. I made it clear that you were never trapped in that old life. I got rid of everything that you ever owed anyone...and in return, I own you."

She remembered. That fateful night when he called her in. She'd thought it was for a job, for something more that she could do to clear the obligations to the swamp, to the various lords, to everyone that she had done work for at some point. Instead, he had shown her, paper by paper, that her old debts had been wiped away. Every little thing in her ledger had been gone.

He'd offered her a drink.

She'd been stupid enough to take it.

And now, sitting where she was, staring at his cock, she knew that the only smart decision was to suck it rather than bite it off. The idea was appealing, but she knew the truth of what would happen if she did. Perhaps he would die. She was almost sure he would; the black cat was not a strong man, nor was he a dangerous man in the grand scheme of things. He had no great allies that would come after her, no sudden spirit that would haunt her. He would bleed out, and she would be able to leave the house.

But she would not be cured. Her pain would continue.

"You're thinking of it again," the master said.

"..."

"You're trying to decide whether to kill me."

"I hate this. And you."

"You can hate it all you want. But you know what will happen if you run off."

She did. There were others that had tried to leave, others that had believed that they had the strength of will to learn how to accommodate the pain, how to learn to live with it. They'd been wrong, and she'd found their bodies or stories of them in her other assignments. They had eventually killed themselves from the rising pain and need that nothing could sate, offing themselves when the suffering grew too much or ending up dying from dehydration from trying to sate the need that nothing could.

Nothing but the master's seed.

She had leaned in more than she wanted, her nose almost brushing his sac as he finally released the back of her collar. She breathed, quietly, taking in what air she could to replace what he'd denied her, and the cat pointed to his cock.

"Clean it, then you will bathe. And then, you will have your 'treatment.'"

She swallowed her hate and her disdain, opening her mouth to take the full length of his cock down her throat. The taste of it was familiar, though the stain of the lioness on him was something of a new touch. She put her opinions of that to the side, focusing instead on the feeling of the slick shaft running past her lips and into the back of her muzzle.

Do not bite. Do not bite.

The order was from herself, not him. Her rage knew no bounds, but she could already taste the cum on it, the faint hints of his seed among the stains of the lioness's pussy. She focused on that, and though it wasn't sufficient to stop the cramps echoing from her core, it was enough to make her feel like they weren't getting worse. That was enough. That was more than enough for the moment.

Down, down, down the shaft she went, her mouth open just enough to not push the strings of seed away and instead allow them entry to her mouth. She tasted the saltiness, the slime, the everything that he had on him, and she did her best not to let it show on her face that she wished that it was going somewhere else. It would go there soon enough, to her humiliated relief. She would have it where she needed it before long, and then she'd wish that she had waited longer.

There was no getting away from this. Felix had her in bondage that was stronger than iron, than any magic that she knew. He could, and would, keep her as his own for as long as he wished, and she doubted that would ever stop.

She didn't even know if there was a cure to this poison. Even now, even as she managed to tolerate the pain, the dripping just kept going. It was still striking deep inside, wrecking her, making her womb feel as if it could never be satisfied. As her stomach had often gone with an aching hole of desperate need for food, her womb was clenching, cramping, gnawing at her to give it what it wanted. Her pussy clenched down, squeezing for a cock that wasn't there, and her clit was so hard and firm that it was past its hood and grinding against her loincloth as she shifted position on her knees.

It could get worse, she knew. She'd seen one unlucky slave that the master had taken against, one that had been bad and had earned punishment. She had been tied to a wall, left there as the poison ran its course through her. Day by day, she got worse. After three weeks, she had a waterfall of her juices rolling out of her. By the fourth week, she was barely conscious, having to be given water by other slaves to stay conscious, her body wracked and starving.

By the next month, she'd been gibbering, mentally broken, unwilling to do anything but whatever the master said. She hadn't lasted long after that, but the lesson had been learned by all other slaves. If they did not do what they were told, if they did not earn their relief, and quickly, the master would see to it that they were taken care of. He never had to lift a finger.

Just like now, when she had rolled her head all the way down his cock and onto the base, her chin resting against his balls, her lips pressed tight to his shaft. He leaked no more, but he smiled down at her as he sipped his wine. No great smirk, no great snarl. He was just...enjoying himself.

She pulled her head back, lips tightening and pursing around his shaft. The pressure milked out what was left inside his cock as well as what clung to it, and she swallowed hard.

"Good girl. Now, bathe. We will have our fun when you're done."

Ink-Eyes nodded, and moved to the bath. There was one already drawn in the bedroom, likely done by the lioness before she and the master had fucked. Touching the water confirmed it; it was still warm, though not hot. She would be able to wash there.

She shrugged off her clothes and got in the bath. Normally, she would have made this last, lingering over the cleaning. Not out of pleasure for the cleaning, but to deny the person she despised that little bit of satisfaction for that little bit longer. Yet...not today. Not this time. Her treatment need was too dire.

As she washed herself rapidly, the cat pulled down a new maid dress. It had a short, lace-lined skirt, and she knew for a fact that the front would be a plunging neckline, one meant to show off the cleavage of whoever wore it. Sheer white stockings were laid beside it, but no panties or bra. There were never any undergarments with this cat; he hated them, and said that it got in the way of their fun.

She shook her head as she washed between her breasts, along her thighs, over her toes. The mud was left behind, and when she stepped out of the bath, she was as pristine as a rat could get.

The master smiled, nodding at the clothes. She didn't say anything, not even a sigh as she pulled the dress over her head and settled the skirt around her hips. Her tail fit through a spot just above the skirt, meant to keep it out of the way and allowing the master to fuck her without getting that held to the side. She bit her lips as she smoothed the skirt down, knowing that her ass would be exposed if she bent down in any way; the skirt was that short.

The leggings went on next, white and paler than the fur on her legs, but no less fine. She pulled them up, feeling them finally stop at her upper thighs, and she shifted from foot to foot as she tried to make them comfortable around her clawed toes. There were already a few rips forming, but nothing too severe -

"Nnngh!"

The pain struck her, and she almost fell over as she felt it sinking its fiery grip further up. The air was squeezed right from her lungs as she slumped against the foot of the bed, almost wheezing from the impact of that pain.

The master was there, pushing her forward already. His hand was beneath her tail, rubbing in a line from her ass down to her pussy, his fingers circling her clit for a moment before drawing them back. They were soaked as he offered his hand to her face.

"Lick them."

Ink-Eyes had little choice. She opened her mouth and pulled the soiled fingers past her lips, licking them until her own juices had been drained from them. The taste, while not terrible, was certainly not the most enjoyable, but she endured it as he pushed his cock against her sex.

A nudge.

A tease.

Then a thrust.

"MMMPH!"

The feeling of being forced open was as pleasant-unpleasant as it had ever been. Her body loved it, her mind hated it, and it hated the man that it was attached to that much more for making her love it. Every thrust had her wanting to moan, every little twitch of his shaft inside of her made her want to scream.

"Nnngh...nnngh...nnngh!"

In, out, in, out, each time as frantic as the one before, and yet, somehow building up to a faster pace. He rammed her head down against the bed, one hand against the back of her head, the other pulling on her tail as he fucked her. His balls tapped against her clit every time that he rammed in, and she could feel just how far he was going, further than she expected for someone with a build so slight.

She hated it, loved it, hated it, loved it.

She loved hating it.

She hated loving it.

It melded together into a total mess in the back of her head and only kept getting worse the longer that the fuck went on. She lowered her head to the sheets, trying not to look back at him, trying not to think about what she was allowing to happen to her body as he fucked her harder, faster.

It was the same, every single time. Some would have looked at her and seen a dirty rat and never touched her. Others would have seen the assassin and, fearing her wrath, would have put out their best effort to please her first before giving any request that she might see to their needs. The master was not like either of those. Instead, he knew that the drug would give her pleasure regardless of what he did, so he just did what he wanted.

And what he wanted was to breed her.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Each time that she felt him bottom out inside, she knew that his cock was kissing her womb. Every time that she felt that, she prayed that he'd be cumming on that thrust, delivering the 'treatment' that would temporarily soothe that which ached her. Every time, she was denied, and his pleasure - and her humiliation - went on.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Despite how much she wanted to hate it, her body craved more of the cat's cock, and it wanted her to push back. She gripped the sheets so hard that the fabric threatened to rip against her, and her breasts bounced, swayed, almost jiggled their way right out of the dress. The rat folded her ears back, trying to think of anything but the cock sawing in and out of her, but there was no thinking of anything else.

There was only his pleasure, and the bliss that he was forcing on her every time that he bottomed out inside of her. The drug racing through her veins had her begging for more, wanting to be relieved of this torment, but there was no relief. There was only submission, and through that submission, greater torment and the occasional bit of ease of it. She whimpered, a sound that no foe - not even the lioness - had ever heard. She was weakened under him, all but broken by the strength of his thrusts, and every time - every time - that he slapped his hips against her ass, she felt herself wanting more, her body fighting against her pride.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

And then he held himself there. The heat came, and with it, the soothing balm of his seed against her inner walls. She hissed against the sheets much the same way that an injured soldier would have against the blaze of alcohol against a wound, but the cleansing had begun. The easing of her torment was slowly fading from her thoughts, and she was able to settle against the bed as the worst of the cramps started to fade from her memory.

"Better?" he mocked her.

"Mmmph..."

"You are mine, Ink-Eyes. You will always be mine."

And it was that statement that nearly broke her. She shivered against the sheets, hiding her face as she tried to avoid letting him see her blush.

She would not be owned.

She would find a way out of this.

#

A month passed, and she was fucked once more between missions in that time, keeping her head on straight and keeping her pain from getting worse. Ink-Eyes had almost grown used to the low-level but persistent arousal that came with the drug, ensuring that she was always wet and always sensitive, but the pain was something that she could never entirely grow accustomed to. The way that it crept through her body and seized hold of her the way that it did, the sensation of her body betraying her and leaving her weak and whimpering when it got to a certain point, was something that she doubted anyone could become used to.

She had just returned from another kill-mission when she was met at the front door by the lioness, and this time, the lioness had a surprise for her.

"I'm pregnant."

Ink-Eyes stopped in her tracks, her hand frozen reaching for the door at the news. She slowly turned her attention back to the lioness.

"...How?"

"The usual methods, I'm sure."

"He's not a lion."

"It doesn't matter, apparently."

"You should kill it."

"What - no! He -" The lioness paused, looking upwards. She hesitated before leaning in, whispering. "The pregnancy...it's cured me."

Ink-Eyes could hardly believe her ears. It seemed utterly impossible, but now that she looked at the other woman properly, there was no denying that she stood up straight without the weight of pain on her shoulders, and she clearly had none of the aches of lust that would have dragged her down over time. Her thighs were clean, her nipples soft and flat, and she had nothing but the faintest of a belly bulge starting to show.

"...Then you should run," Ink-Eyes said.

"...I can't. Not yet. He - if I stay here, he will take care of things."

"Broken," Ink-Eyes spat.

"I'm being practical."

"No. You're being afraid. Coward."

"He'll take care of everything if we stay. And the child will have everything that it needs."

She had already put the lioness out of her mind, stepping through the door and ignoring what the other woman shouted after her. Slamming the door shut behind her, she fumed as she walked down the hall, once more tracking mud through the building as she did.

Yet, even as she approached the stairs, she knew that there had to be something there, something that she didn't want to admit. Ink-Eyes slowed, eventually resting her hand on the railing as she looked upward.

If it kills the addiction...can you do that?

Her first thought was that it didn't matter. She was a rat, he was a cat. They weren't compatible, so there was no reason to start thinking about that now.

Yet, the fact that he was a cat that bred a lioness spoke of a different story. They shouldn't have been compatible either, and yet, the black cat had clearly made her pregnant. And she clearly believed that the master didn't know that she had been broken of the addiction, either, which meant that there was a possibility that he didn't know that there was a way out of this.

If it worked...could you do it?

The idea of carrying around the spawn of the man that lied to her, of the creature that had stolen her independence for his own pleasure and nothing more, was reprehensible to her. The very idea of allowing him to have that sort of claim on her body felt like she was giving him something that he didn't deserve, something that he hadn't earned. A child. A thrice-damned child.

Yet...if it got her free...

Ink-Eyes wanted to scream, and she very nearly did. Instead, she set herself to walking up the stairs, knowing that she needed to report and, at the very least, she should get herself 'treated' with another 'dose' to keep from going completely insane in the next few days. Two weeks was the furthest that she could push the gap between her treatments before losing her mind to the lust that burned between her legs and the pain that accompanied it.

This time, it was a surprise to hear more moans coming from the cat's bedroom door. She had seen the lioness downstairs and had come across another servant of his - a vixen - that had been in the process of digging out information from a noble neighbor of the person that she had been sent to kill. She paused at the door, her fingers shaking at the door handle, before finally giving it a turn.

To her shock, it was a completely new agent. A sergal, in this case, wild and thick-furred and looking like something that had been plucked from the swamp itself. Just like everyone else that shared that bed, she wore a maid outfit, stripping her of anything that she had and making her a servant of the master.

She was completely incoherent, completely ignorant of everything happening around her, but the master was not. He looked up and smiled, continuing to thrust away, his cock splashing her juices around every time that he hammered in up to the hilt. The puddles on the bed were in different places than the last time she was here, but there were just as many as the first time.

"You saw her, hmm?" the master asked.

Ink-Eyes didn't answer. The black cat rolled his eyes and pulled out, clearly having finished some time ago and just taken it further, further than he needed to just to make a point. As he pulled away, white strings oozed out of the sergal, she couldn't help but stare as he walked around her and to the floor. He didn't bother getting dressed, didn't bother getting his usual wine, nor did he ask her to come forward and lick him clean. Instead, he just gave the sergal a small nudge, sending her off to her side.

With the wild woman snoring before she hit the covers, they were essentially alone. The black cat turned to her, shaking his head.

"She thinks she's free, doesn't she?"

"...She's not."

"Never was."

"What's the truth?"

"The truth? She's not cured; the pregnancy just acts as an extended-release of my seed while she's making the child. The moment it's delivered, the symptoms will start again, and she'll be just as dependent on me as ever."

"You..."

"And if you were thinking that you could get out that way, you were wrong," the master said, looking back at her. "Whatever else you were thinking, the drug and the addiction are permanent. You can't get out from under them. You'll keep coming back to me, forever, and ever."

Ink-Eyes couldn't believe her ears. What little hope that she had started to feel from the lioness's words were cut out from under her almost instantly, and she knew that the same would happen for the other woman when she felt the curse come back. They all suffered the same addictions; some were just more broken than others.

The rat hadn't realized how much she had been holding out for some sort of hope that she could eventually break this addiction, and how much the pregnancy option - as much as she hated the idea of bearing his child - had helped her. Now, it was gone, and she was left far more bereft than ever before. Her legs shook, and she stared down at the ground as she realized what fate had given her: the choice of whether to serve in indignity and live for a while longer, or the choice to run away and hope that she could hold onto her will long enough to end her own life rather than coming back to this.

There was no option to escape. There never would be.

"Hmm?" the master asked. "What are you thinking?"

"...Breed me," she whispered.

"What was that?"

"Breed me, master," Ink-Eyes whispered again, her eyes glued to the floor. "I need...treatment."

"...Get on the bed."

It was the first time that she'd asked for it, and she knew that something had broken inside of her. Just what it was and what it would do to her, she didn't know yet, but it would be something that remained broken.

She laid over the edge of the bed, tail up. The master was going to fuck her without the dress this time. She wondered if it would feel different. She doubted it.

The End

Summary: Ink-Eyes has been drugged to serve someone on pain of heat-death. She serves well, though not willingly.

Tags: M/F, Noncon, Pleasure, Slave, Maid, Ink-Eyes, Rat, Cat, Lioness, Pregnancy, Vaginal, Orgasm, Cum, Maid Outfit, Dress,