Rosepetal learned so many lessons aboard the Sky Castle, and acting’s one of her favorites. Isn’t she perfect for the role? She squirms, she melts into arms and ropes, she groans and moans and makes indignant little squeaks, and she doesn’t come an inch closer to escaping, even as she makes it look like she’s trying desperately to break free. Her scandalized little squeaks as she’s changed into the [i]perfect,[/i] most darling outfit, matching her Princess perfectly! Her demure head shakes and pleading looks as the foxes crowd around and tell her that she’s still simply just too loud, but how good of her to volunteer extra stuffing! Her refusal to keep trying to complain, even as the gag layers bulge out past her veil!

But what Chen likely appreciates most of all is how cuddly Rosepetal is on the palanquin. How she hooks Chen in with her big, strong legs and pulls her close, while still whining and struggling. How she rolls on top of her girlfriend and makes an attempt to plead for salvation, all while her heart races delightedly. How she acts like a perfect little damsel in distress who needs to be saved by her dapper, handsome, dashing, charming, curvy, amazing, incredible girlfriend, who will (eventually) be rewarded with much many kisses for saving her, no matter how long that might take.

As for what she’s thinking about, well, Chen will have to wait to find out about [i]that,[/i] too…

***

[hider=End of the Line]
[center][h2][b]End of the Line[/b]
by [color=gold][u]River_Risen_NO4[/u][/color][/h2]
[color=gold]#NorthwindAndRoseblossom #MafiaAU #DiD #Citrus #18+ #PlotBunny #Foxes[/color]
[u][color=gold]Chapter Index[/color][/u]: Chapter 3 - Songbirds and Cages[/center]

[i]“Hey, badass! Drop the sword, or your little songbird here’s sung her last!”

Northwind didn’t drop her guard, and she didn’t make the mistake of turning her back on the enforcers of the Eight Tail Consortium. One of them tried to make a lunge, assuming that Northwind’s concentration would be broken, and got her sword knocked out of her hand and her nose punched with Northwind’s pommel for her trouble, which made the other five spread out, waiting for someone else to make the first move. But Northwind did spare a glance back over her shoulder, her bangs sticking to her forehead, her devil-may-care grin a shield to fend off whatever the world might send her way.

Desperately, Roseblossom tugged her face out of Darkflower’s grasp, gasping, filled with urgency. “Don’t do it,” she said, even as Priss’s switchblade pressed threateningly against her throat. “Please, just— hmmmph!” Darkflower clamped her palm tighter against Rose’s mouth, jerking her head back, letting Northwind get a good look at the peril the singer was in. Unable to speak, Roseblossom could only incoherently plead for this beautiful and dangerous woman to forget about her and run, her begging eyes hidden behind her fashionable half-veil. Even if the consequences for her were terrible, she couldn’t bear the thought of being the weapon the Consortium would use against the swordswoman. Besides, they’d only shared one torrid night of passion on the cruise— surely a woman like Northwind wouldn’t risk everything for a one night stand?

“You idiots,” Northwind said, her tone light and mocking. Roseblossom worked her hands into fists and closed her eyes, waiting for the worst. “What are you going to do for an encore, after icing a dame like that? Strip mine the Terrace Lakes?”

The sound of Northwind’s sword clattering on the deck was the loudest sound in the whole world. Roseblossom’s eyes slammed open just in time to see the mysterious, beautiful woman send a wink her way. Her knees buckled and her jaw dug painfully into Priss’s knife as she suddenly couldn’t breathe, her necklace of pearls clattering. Why? Why would Northwind risk everything for her?

“Do your worst, furbags.”

The thugs pounced, knocking Northwind to the deck, pulling out coils of rope. Roseblossom gasped and stamped her foot, but that only brought her captors’ attention back to her. “And what about the broad?” Darkflower sneered. “Pretty little miss. Do we let her go snitching?”

“Nah,” Priss leered, leaning in to give her neck a long, slow lick, chuckling as Roseblossom let out a muffled torrent of complaint. “Two’s better than one, right? Might as well show La Draconessa our regards by sending her a caged songbird.” Roseblossom’s mind reeled. Just an hour ago, her biggest worry had been trying not to think about the handsome girl who had driven her mind wild while trying to focus on her singing. Now she was a Consortium prisoner, headed for an uncertain fate.

Then Swifty grabbed her jaw and slowly pulled Roseblossom’s head down to her level. The enforcer’s fluffy face was still reddened from where Roseblossom had slapped her earlier. “I dunno, girls,” she said, showing off her wickedest of grins. “There might be other uses for a canary. Had time to reconsider my offer, sugarlips?”

“I’d rather kiss a Burrower,” Roseblossom spat, her cheeks darkening.

Swifty’s eyes narrowed, and she chuckled— the kind of chuckle that meant trouble. “I tried to be nice, Tits. You’re the one who asked for this.” Even as Darkflower held Roseblossom’s arms tight to her body, and Priss began pulling ropes around her torso from above her elbows downwards, Swifty forced Roseblossom’s jaw open and pulled out some of what the Eight Winds called Damsel Snacks: old, stained, musky vixen panties and sweatrags. Roseblossom, whimpering, couldn’t do a thing to prevent Swifty from cramming her mouth full of well-used stuffing, the same that had been used on so many helpless girls before her; the experience was like having a fox sit on her face, especially when Swifty rubbed them all over her nose and cheeks.

Soon enough, Roseblossom was absolutely helpless. Her arms were pinned close to her torso, her hands trapped above her rear, her bare legs like two columns bound together, one doubled-over rope disappearing taut between her thighs only to reappear lashed to her wrists. Her rose-gold dress, thin and outrageously expensive, was pulled taut and threatening to slip in multiple places. But all of that was nothing compared to the feeling of the final fox-scented bandana being knotted securely behind her head, silencing her.

Roseblossom wasn’t a daring swordfighter! Her greatest strength was her beautiful, melodious voice; she was proudest, always and ever, of her singing, and she was sure that if she ever found the right girl, they’d treasure her voice best of all. And here the foxes had taken it away from her! Now all she could do was let out tiny, muffled whimpers, which the foxes would be all too happy to very loosely interpret. Her mouth was packed with a heady mix, her own drool mixing with that of so many other victims of the daring Eight Tails Consortium, not to mention varied and potent fox fluids, and every deep, heaving breath she took through the muffling gag was like trying to breathe with her head pinned between some vixen’s thighs. She was completely, absolutely helpless, at their mercy, and from the looks the enforcers were giving her, she’d see little enough of that.

So why did that make her heart race, her thighs clench, and her eyes flutter? To her humiliation, her body was betraying her, reacting to her captivity just like it had reacted to Northwind’s touch in that cramped cabin. What kind of girl would feel like that?

As if that wasn’t enough, the three enforcers were taking their time exploring her body with their grabby paws. Squeezing, pinching, rubbing, toying with her, particularly now that she couldn’t cover herself up or bat their hands away. If she were able to speak, would she have begged them to stop, or would she have blurted out a desperate plea for them to keep going, to give her more?

“C’mon, bimbo,” Swifty finally said, clipping a leash’s lead onto the pearl necklace, the most precious thing that Roseblossom owned. “You’ve got a date all lined up, and I’d hate to see you miss it.” She tugged on the leash, and the horrible realization shot up Roseblossom’s spine: the wicked fox meant to make the singer hop her way across the deck!

She looked around, realizing that she was now the center of attention. Yes, even with her braids bedraggled, her gag bulging out past the veil over her eyes, and her dress bunching up and clinging to her, no, perhaps because of these things, the hungry eyes of every fox there were on her, mentally undressing her, drooling over her body, ready to snicker and revel in her helplessness.

But Northwind was staring, too, and the look in those dark eyes was an enigma. Was it shame at getting her dragged into this? Was it distress at seeing her pawed at and humiliated? Or was it, perhaps, with that girlish glance at her captors, that tinge of pink in her cheeks… was it, in fact, a guilty pleasure? Was Roseblossom as desirable— if not moreso— right now, the prisoner of the mob, than she was on stage belting her heart out? Did the mysterious girl wish that [i]she[/i] was the one having her way with Roseblossom’s body?

She could have it, came the treacherous thought bubbling up from the quagmire of Roseblossom’s brain. She would be welcome to every inch. The singer would take twice the stuffing (and even stuffing elsewhere) if it meant that beautiful rogue was admiring her body, taking what she pleased, making Roseblossom feel like a prize— no, a treasure. A shining jewel. Worth more than just her voice: wanted as a woman, helpless to let propriety get between her and her deepest, darkest desires.

Roseblossom closed her eyes, conjured up Northwind’s beautiful face, and more than that, the way that the ropes pulled snugly around the smaller girl highlighted her own delicious curves, and hopped. It was difficult: the ropes dug into her as her muscles flexed, one in particular causing her to bite down on the mass of cloth in her mouth, and the lewd whistles and encouragements from the Eight Tails made her heart race. Besides that, it was hard enough to land perfectly with each hop, given the impracticality of her heels. It required constant focus, but that focus was continually broken by the sensations inflicted on her body.

By the time she made it to the waiting limousine, Roseblossom was a mess barely holding herself together, sticky and sweaty, her mind a howling void of mortification and fox musk, making incoherent and desperate noises into her sturdy gag. A fox— names hard, too tough to parse right now— smacked her, hard, on her barely-covered rump. “Try not to cream yourself before you get to La Draconessa, Tits~” Then the trunk swung open, and Roseblossom stared in exhausted horror at the space. No. No, they couldn’t possibly. How did they think she was going to fit inside? Northwind, maybe, but her?

She would soon learn that she could, in fact, fit in the trunk. She ended up crammed in, shoulders against one side, knees and feet pinned against the other, head pushed down almost to her chest. There wasn’t even room to squirm, and the pose would quickly become intolerable. But with her taking up all the room in the trunk, there was only one place for Northwind to go.

Directly on top of her, as it turned out. Face pressed into Roseblossom’s cleavage, bodies forced as close to each other (in some ways, even closer) as they’d been last night. Northwind’s face was hot on Roseblossom’s skin, where her cheeks peeled out over her own gag, and the two eyes peering up at Rose seemed very apologetic.

“Your mommies ain’t going to save you this time, Northwind,” a fox sneered, hand on the lid of the trunk. “You might be the daughter of the two biggest, baddest bosses in the underground, but once La Draconessa’s done with you, you’re gonna be nothing. A pretty pampered princess for the hoard, if you’re lucky; lunch, if you’re not.” 

Roseblossom’s eyes widened beneath her veil. Northwind was the daughter of powerful mob bosses? For all that she’d tried to keep her nose clean and out of mob business, she’d gone and slept with the daughter of two of the most powerful members of the mafias, and now she was going to pay the price. And from the sound of it, the price she paid might be very high indeed.

Northwind tried to make some sort of retort, but all she managed was to crank Roseblossom up further, with the vibrations of Northwind’s muffled running through her chest, the hot breath on her sweat-slicked skin, and the impotent thrashing on top of her. The useless whimpering escaping from behind Roseblossom’s punishing gag became lower-pitched and needier as Northwind accidentally revved her up into high drive.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for La Draconessa, shortstack.” The lid slammed down, barely missing Roseblossom’s head, trapping them both in the stuffy space. Not only was it poorly ventilated, but countless helpless victims had been where they were just now, and that added another layer to the sensations reaching through Roseblossom’s nose and clenching around her ovaries.

As the limousine roared to life, as the cramped trunk began to vibrate, as Northwind kept uselessly trying to talk while squirming and nuzzling into her, as she took shuddering breaths through her pungent and cheek-cramming gag, and as the most wicked rope dug inexorably into her, Roseblossom realized with blissful inevitability that she was going to fail.

Repeatedly.[/i]

[color=gold][u]<- Prev Fic: Slave of the Sirocco (24/?).[/u][/color][/hider]