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Eris is by Alaine!
The dark woman's only squeezed harder and tighten her grip on Molca's thin wrists and pull her arms downward, stretching an already unnatural position. The dark hybrid stepped up against the coydog's back and pushed her into Kit. The coydog's well-muscled body arched against her mistress as she struggled, quaking and trembling and whimpering all the while -- her pleading had ceased, however, and that was good. The sable-furred woman tilted her head into his tongue's caresses a moment, burning yellow-green eyes half-lidded. She was quick to pull away after indulging but a moment, though she grinned at him all the same.
Perhaps, she said, wishing she could reach out to touch him, too. Her hands were occupied by the slave, however, who had grown increasingly quiet as the distance between her body and Kit's grew less and less. Eris felt her go completely rigid, all of her muscles tensing at once as, presumably, the young hybrid had his way with her. The sable-hued woman could smell his desire, but it was entirely overpowered by the stench of fear from her slave. The woman no longer attempted to struggle, but her trembling was still palpable to Eris. Otherwise, however, she seemed to have disconnected herself entirely from reality: what little Eris could see of Molca's face was glazed over, distant, not-entirely-present. Her face grew stormy, and she jerked the slave's hair again, rattling the woman out of her catatonia.
Enjoy it or don't, she cooed, again in the slave's ear. Pretty things should be loved, and you are pretty, aren't you? Perhaps she hadn't meant to take it this far, but she was all swept in the moment. And, in any case, it was nothing Eris had not done before: Vieira had been treated as Molcaxitl was now being treated. Eris had never been quite so close to Vieira when it was happening, however, and the dark-furred woman had never regretted her treatment of either slave.
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