Chapter 9: Tails Up

Frelic sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace. "Go fetch the training paddle from the bed chamber, young lady," he ordered.

Hansen disappeared through the southeast door, returning less than a minute later with the paddle Frelic had purchased from Varo reverently held in front of him in both paws. He presented it to his Master and submissively stood before him. Elf quietly patted his bare thigh, and Squirrel obediently lay face down across his Master's lap, bushy tail held high and proud.

Frelic rubbed the paddle over his pet's upturned bottom and gave him a few light taps, "Ten platinum pieces, one thousand gold, one thousand swats," he chanted, as he had said to Shaasta earlier. This time however, he added,

"Plus an additional thirty five, the price I paid for your own rescue. Now, since my concentration will be focused solely on paddling your butt, I may easily lose count. Therefore, I charge you to maintain the counting and to call out each swat applied to your bottom. You will count out the thirty five first, and after your price is fulfilled, you will start the count over again for the thousand. Are these instructions clear, my pet?"

Hansen trembled as he thought about what he was about to endure, "Yes, Master. I fully understand." No sooner had he voiced his acknowledgment, then the paddle slammed down on his furry little bottom, striking the left cheek with a punishing wooden bite that left him stunned for a brief moment. "One!" he cried, after his breath returned to his lungs.

Another smack of the paddle burned through the right hemisphere of his ass, every bit as cruel and punishing as its predecessor. He closed his eyes tight, and through clenched teeth, yelled, "Two!"

A third strike immediately followed, kissing both cheeks as it landed perfectly across the center, "Three!"

The paddling proceeded at a steady beat, the timing between each swat administered slow enough to where the Squirrel felt the full impact of wood on furry nether flesh, but not so slow as to give him any respite between strikes. The lounge was filled with the sounds of punishment mixed with Hansen's pained cries as he numbered each smack, sounds which spilled out above the streets and the third floor hallway through the open doors. By the thirtieth swat, Hansen was blinking back the tears that threatened to escape his eyes; his little bottom felt as if it was on fire. By the thirty fifth, his will broke and his whole body was quivering as he sobbed uncontrollably,

"Thirty five."

Frelic put the paddle down and inspected his handiwork. A lovely deep blush was visible through the white fur of his pet's plush bottom, and his mark, the pawprint overlaid with a willow tree, shimmered silver against the crimson canvas. Between the Squirrel's legs, there was not the slightest hint of arousal; between the Elf's legs was a different story, but Frelic was satisfied that the spanking he had just given his pet as well as the spanking to come, was and would be true punishment. After Hansen was calmed again, Frelic picked the paddle back up and rubbed it over the Squirrel's already punished bottom, "And now to begin the thousand." As before, the paddle traced a graceful downward arc through the air and landed solidly on the left side of Hansen's bottom, sending a new burst of pain coursing through his aft end.

"One!!!"

The boardwalk was a beehive of activity, a great contrast to the serene solitude of the wilds to which Shaasta was much more accustomed. The walks were a veritable river of people, folk from all over Niath, all bustling about on personal business or taking in the sights, or allowing themselves to be drawn into one of a great variety of shops that lined the wooden-paved roadway. Many large ships floated in the cool salty waters, moored securely to the docks, ships as diverse as the people who filled the waterfront. Small fast corvettes; enormous cargo, passenger, and war vessels, whose multitude of masts formed a mini skyline; several massive longboats, with huge oars protruding from the sides like the legs of a giant centipede; and pleasure craft, clippers, schooners, and more, belonging to the wealthier citizens and visitors in Mistport. Sailors hustled about the piers, performing maintenance on their ships, loading and unloading cargo, securing rigging, and mending sails. Many paused to briefly take in the lovely sight of the three nymphly ladies as they passed by, while others, too focused on their work, blithely carried on with their tasks.

Shaasta's prosthetic tail twitched nervously behind her. Places such as this made her uncomfortable and nervous. The Elf, being a shy creature of the wilds, felt much more at ease deep in the forests of Pinevale or the misty swamplands of Calthani, where she and her brother had been born twenty three years previously. Without warning, she paused to regain her senses. The others did not stop until the leash clasped to her collar went taught.

Thissle turned around and gazed at her charge; genuine concern for the Elf was clearly visible in her coppery eyes. "Shaasta, honey, are you okay? You seem troubled."

"Yeah," Karma agreed, "Are you not feeling well?"

Shaasta closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands for a few seconds, then turned and gave her friends a timid smile, "I'll be okay. I'm just feeling a wee bit overloaded out here."

Thissle nodded sympathetically, "The shy forest creature outside of her natural habitat." She handed the leash to Karma and put an arm around the troubled Elf, gently petting her bare flank to comfort her. "If this is too much for your senses to withstand, we can go back to the Hightail Inn or find a nice quiet stretch of beach to retreat to away from this crowd, and just have some quiet intimate time together by ourselves," she offered.

"Thank-you, Thissle, but I will be alright momentarily." She smiled again and planted a friendly peck on the Dragon girl's sweet lips. "I really do need to condition myself to become comfortable in settings such as this anyway."

"Oh look!" Karma interrupted them. "Otters!"

"That pastry vendor again?" Shaasta guessed.

"No, sea otters," the Rabbit replied, pointing to the water, "the critters, not the Furlings."

Shaasta and Thissle looked in the direction Karma was pointing. There in the salty water between the pier and a massive Tameran long boat, a group of three gray and white-furred sea otters were swimming about, playing nip and run and occasionally diving beneath the surface, only to come back up with a large shellfish in one paw and a large rock in the other. The girls dropped down on all fours at the edge of the pier for a better look, once again causing all activity around them to come to a halt.

"Oh, how cute," Shaasta giggled, the smile on her face at the sight of the three large water rats chasing away any lingering threads of her recent claustrophobia.

"You would think that much cuteness concentrated in one place would violate some local ordinances," Thissle commented, as one of the otters floated on his back, placed a mussel on his chest, and cracked it open with his rock to get at the succulent meat inside.

"Aw, you can never have too much cuteness," Karma argued. She made a 'tch-tch' sound, which got the otters' attention. The three sea critters paused in their frolickings and gazed up at the three ladies watching them, staring back with large dark eyes that caught the afternoon sun and sparkled with playful mischief.

"What are you doing?" Thissle asked.

"I'm getting us a bit of good luck," Karma replied. She repeated the 'tch' sounds and the otters swam closer to the pier, almost close enough for the girls to reach out and caress their wet pelts. "Ever kissed an otter before?"

"Only Delilah," Thissle said, "and that fellow who runs the little Inn at Rainwood. But never a mundane otter."

"It's supposed to bring good luck," Shaasta told her. "Truth to tell, I can't say whether or not there is really anything to that or if it's just an old hearth tale, but there's no harm in trying."

Thissle shook her head and smirked, "Well, it seems a little silly to me, but what do I know? After all, I'm only a young and clueless Dragon."

They all leaned forward, heads down over the water, asses in the air. After a minute of making little kissy noises at the critters, the otters disappeared beneath the surface, then popped back up nose to nose with the girls.

Wet, salty muzzles touched their mouths in a series of rapid-fire pecks. Then as quickly as it started, the otters slipped again beneath the water, resurfaced near the far end of the pier, and swam out to the kelp beds off in the distance.

"Well, that was weird," was Thissle's verdict.

"What was weird?" Shaasta asked.

"Delilah never kisses like that."

"Perhaps she would if you asked her."

Karma looked over at Thissle and shrugged, "That's because Delilah is an Otter."

Thissle and Shaasta exchanged a look, then the Dragon girl turned her gaze back to the Rabbit, "But those were otters."

"What I mean is," Karma started to explain, then thought better of it, "ah, never mind for now. I'll spell it out for you later. Let's go."

"Not yet."

"Why?" Karma asked, "the otters are gone."

Thissle and Shaasta gave her a puzzled look, "Who are you talking to, bunny?" She started to get up.

"Please girls, stay put for just a moment or two longer." The voice, though gruff and subtly commanding, was definitely feminine.

Not sure if they were about to be robbed or raped, the girls went ahead and played it safe and just held still in the invite position.

"Almost there," the voice behind them said. She sounded a little distracted, "Just one final touch. Hold it. Hold it. And..." one at a time, they felt a gentle hand on their rumps, followed by a light pressure on their southern stars, as the unknown lady behind them gave them each a single coin, inserted up their butts with a long, fur-covered finger. "There, finished. You ladies may get up now, unless you don't mind the possibility of just any passersby accepting your unspoken invitation. Oh, and lest I forget my manners, thank-you very much for your time and cooperation."

The girls rose to their feet and slowly turned around. Before them, smiling warmly, stood a Furling Coyote.

Her fur was dark gray, with speckles of lighter gray. A mop of hair, black as the darkest night crowned her furry head, dropping to her shoulders and curling out behind her. As if Ms. Nature was indecisive as to which color best suited this canine lady, her eyes were constantly changing colors every five seconds, cycling from brown, to violet, to blue, to green, to gray, and back to brown.

As was typical of Furlings, Orniths, and other exotic races, this Coyote dressed lightly, showing off her fur-covered curves. Standing on digitigrade legs, her feet were shod with a pair of tall sandals, which were laced neatly up to her knees. The only other clothing on her lean but still curvaceous body was a harness of supple black leather, which was nothing more than a wide belt around her waist and two straps that formed an X across her back and pert breasts. A pair of silver pins decorated her harness, one near each shoulder. The left was a likeness of a mink, curled up on a pillow, and its counterpart was another mink, this one a Furling in a three quarter rear view, partially bent over with her paws on her knees and her tail raised high. Hanging from her belt, at her left hip, was a small, round wooden paddle, decorated with a likeness of the same Furling Mink featured on her right shoulder. Also on her belt were the usual pouches, as well as several quills, paint brushes, and charcoal sticks.

Under her left arm, she held a thick pad of drawing parchments.

"Again," the Coyote repeated, "I thank-you for your cooperation. I hope a silver piece each was sufficient for your modeling services."

Shaasta looked puzzled, "Modeling services?"

"Yes indeed. Look," she held up the drawing pad, and the girls gave a collective gasp at what they saw.

While they were busy kissing the sea otters, this Furling managed to hammer out an impressively accurate sketch of the three girls; or more specifically, an impressively accurate sketch of the girls' severely upthrust asses.

Karma looked quite amazed at this lady's work, "That is fantastic. You even managed to get the rose planted up Shaasta's butt."

Thissle nodded, agreeing with Karma's assessment, "And in only a couple minutes at that, Miss?"

"Trikks," she replied, giving the girl's hand a friendly squeeze, "I'm with Uptail Lodge, Mistport's chapter of the Order of the Mink." She pointed to the silver pin on her right shoulder, and then to its counterpart on her left. "And you are?"

"Thissle," she offered, "of WraithHold."

"Oh my!" Trikk's paw went to her muzzle, and her eyes went wide as if she had just seen a ghost. "From Pinevale, perchance?"

Thissle exchanged looks with her friends, "That's the only WraithHold we know of."

"And if you will pardon this humble artist's continued grilling," she pressed on, "would you by chance really be a Dragon, Copper to be precise?"

Thissle's eyes changed; whites, irises, and pupils merged into swirling pools of translucent copper. "Ms.

Trikks, what is your game here? How do you know who I am?" Her voice was a low growl, with a hint of suspicion and a touch of menace.

Trikks remained calm, though her eyes betrayed her awe at the subtle power this lass emanated. "Please, dear," she said, "Keep your skirt on, at least for now. There is no cause for alarm. I am simply truly honored to find myself in your presence." She put her arms behind her and in a sincere gesture of deference, placed her paws behind her on her furry rump.

Thissle looked to Karma and Shaasta for a clue. All they could offer was a helpless shake of their heads and a puzzled shrug. Perhaps this creature was simply letting the wizweed speak for her, although there was no hint of that substance's sweet fragrance on the Coyote.

"Begging your pardon, m'lady, but I fear that your flattery is misplaced." Thissle's eyes returned to as they were before, "I am merely a girl, a Dragon girl masquerading as a Human, but still just a girl, nothing more, nothing special."

Trikks gave a laugh that was sweet music to the ears and soothing to the nerves. "Your modesty is greatly understated, dear Dragon." She placed a paw on the back of Thissle's bare thigh, giving it a gentle pat, "and I do not mean your delightful fashion sense."

"Honestly, Ms. Trikks," Thissle replied, "Before you start speaking in riddles, I must again insist that I am truly no one of any significance. You must be mistaking me for some other girl."

"Nonsense!" Thissle felt the cool seaside breeze caress her naked bottom, followed by the burning sting of wood on flesh as Trikks pulled up the hem of her minidress and planted the paddle which, moments before, hung docilely at her hip, squarely on the girl's exposed left cheek. The impact brought a loud smack that rang out up and down the street and across the water, causing the three otters out there to briefly look up from their kelp wraps before returning to their afternoon nap.

The Coyote released Thissle's dress, shook the paddle knowingly in her direction, and scolded her. "Knock it off with that innocent little charade, girl. Just as there is only one WraithHold in Pinevale, we all know that there is only one young Copper Dragon brat named Thissle who calls WraithHold in Pinevale her lair."

Thissle rubbed her left flank. It smarted considerably where Trikk's paddle had struck her. "Okay, we have established my identity." She raised her own paddle and returned the Coyote's favor squarely across both furry southern cheeks, "Now, will you please tell us how you know who I am and why, by Paramour's fangs, you are acting as if this humble Dragon lass is some sort of celebrity?"

"Oh, but you are a celebrity, dear girl," Trikks corrected her, "In fact, you are a legend. Who would have thought that I would have the honor of having my furry butt paddle-smacked by the Paddled Dragon herself." She fluttered her eyelashes dreamily at Thissle, "Thank-you so much. I will cherish this moment for all time."

Karma pulled the confused Dragon girl aside, "Thissle, what the 'ell is up with you and Ms. Trikks here? I mean, the Paddled Dragon? Is that like a future prediction or something?"

Shaasta huffed and exchanged a look with the Coyote, "Yeah, as if that is a shocking event to predict."

"Oh, but I am not referring to the future," Trikks said, "I am talking about the epic tale of when this girl became the first Dragon in recorded history to be subdued and thoroughly paddled by a non-Dragon, that dreamy Elf fellow that saved Pinevale."

"Oh, you mean Frelic Willowpaw," Shaasta said.

"Yes, that is his name." She nodded excitedly, put her paws to her chest, and fluttered her eyelashes again, "He is such a hot fellow. After the tale of your subdual at his hand spread from Pinevale, well, you wouldn't believe how many Mink initiates, myself included, have fantasized about being taken down and having their bottoms paddled by him, as well as giving him the same blessing."

Understanding was finally starting to work its way into Thissle's copper-maned head, "Oh, that little episode. That was like what, a year ago?"

"The steamiest tales travel fast through the Order of the Mink," Trikks explained. "And let me tell you, that sweet little Halfling lass that Frelic has as his apprentice is one hot storyteller."

Thissle's face cycled through several shades of red, "Oh my, you mean Honeyrose?"

"Yes, that's her name. The night after Frelic made history, Honeyrose was at the local inn, chatting with some Order of the Mink friends from Ponytail Lodge; and the tale of the Great Dragontamer came up."