Branding the Feline

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Branding the Feline

"It's a shame to let your piercings no longer take the spotlight, but this is so gonna be worth it kitty-cat."

It was rare that Gwyn heard any emotion in Flint's voice, so she paid attention to it, the feline's ears pricking up and swivelling in his direction. The wolf had her in his home tattoo parlour: a small, cosy affair that he only allowed his highest paying clients into for tattooing, piercing and...certain other work too.

His wealthier clients were known to, after all, have very particular tastes.

Gwyn sat nude but for her white fur on the table, which was more like a padded massage table than what one would have seen in his parlour, though she wasn't one to complain. On the table between the wolf and the white cat lay a series of brands. The metal seemed perfectly innocent in its cool form, the different sizes and shapes intriguing to the eye, yet still holding an illicit appeal. Gwyn shivered, reaching out to touch one and then drawing her paw back before her fingers even touched the metal.

They were not for her touch. Not yet.

They would be the items to touch her.

Flint studied her, the rugged wolf shrugging out of his ripped shirt. It hadn't hidden much from a wandering eye, regardless of its covering, muscle showing through fur in carved definition.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Gwyn?" He asked, uncharacteristically so for him.

"Are you getting soft?" She looked at him like he was crazy. "Of course I'm up for this! When have I not been?"

Flint sighed and shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. Leaning one elbow on his knee, he swung lightly back and forth on the tall seat, ready to see just how easily he probed through the feline's fur to sear letters and symbols into her sweet, if not untainted skin. It would be interesting to work around the piercings, but nothing he couldn't handle. He was, after all, very much a professional in his trade.

"The traditional way then?"

"Is there any other way?"

Flint tapped a switch on the wall and the overhead skylight clattered, opening up the slats to allow in some fresh air while the extractor fan simultaneously whirred. The sunlight seemed out of place for what was about to occur, but it gave Flint more than enough natural light with which to work without a harsh, bare bulb above him.

"Do you really want to have that open?" Gwyn raised an eyebrow. "I may want this, but I'm probably still going to yell or scream or something. I don't know." She rubbed her forearm. "Maybe I'll even be as quiet as a mouse? There's only one way to find out."

"You want the smoke to get into your lungs? That ain't fucking hot or anything, let me tell you."

Although the brands would be placed into a fire -- which could have been a standard fireplace in any other setting -- sunken into the wall, there was still due need to open the vents. Flint had learned a long while ago that it never hurt to be too cautious, after all, and while the chimney did most of the work, the fan had its place too. But he wouldn't say that to his clients. Not while they were under the partway erotic trance and shivering trepidation of getting branded.

The flames crackled, leaping and sparking, burning life even as it was snuffed out. The embers smouldered beneath the logs and Gwyn's nose twitched to catch the scent of them burning. Were those oak? Rather classy for a wolf. She hadn't expected so much from him.

He selected a brand without looking at her and slid the shaped end into the fire, a glove encasing his paw. Although he went shirtless, he wouldn't have dared take his jeans off in such close proximity to the fire; it was one thing to have one's clothing catch fire and quite another to have the fur one one's body singed away. His lips curved up on one side in a cruel smirk, though he was sure it was one his cat would appreciate.

Gwyn frowned minutely and eyed up the brand, though there was no regret in her eyes.

"Don't I get a choice?" Gwyn murmured, though it was hardly a question. "In which brand you'll use on me?"

Flint glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The brand flared red-hot, taking its heat from the flames around it, bit by bit. He turned it slowly in the flames. A custom forge would have been quicker to heat it on all sides, but the natural flames were a nice touch too.

Only the best for Gwyn, after all.

"Not today."

Shivering, she lay on her front, head buried in her arms.

"Do what you will."

"Oh, I will indeed, little darling. Since you have positioned yourself so nicely for me."

Gwyn stiffened, but the touch on her rump was only his paw, smoothing her fur flat.

"Not going to shave me either?"

"I have to press harder to get through such a lush coat, but it'll have the same effect. Besides," he added. "The scent of burning fur, knowing it won't grow back over that spot... You'll get so darn wet for it. Just like you always do."

Gwyn shivered and mewled into her arms, tail flicking. A mark that would never go away? Her new piercings still pressed and ached at times, but they'd be nothing compared to a permanent brand. Or brands, if he was true to his word and covered her from muzzle to toe, as promised.

But there was no going back as he lifted the brand, grasping the poker end in his gloved paw. He shooed her muzzle away from him and she obediently faced the wall, back stiff and buttocks tense, but ready all the same.

"Don't brace yourself too much," he cautioned. "You'll only tense up more when the brand hits."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

"And maybe not."

She didn't look as he shuffled over, the brand levelled and ready. The passage of air ruffled the fur on her buttocks and the back of his arm pinned her tail to the side, her heartbeat racing. Flint growled and she pricked up her ears an instant before the brand pressed to her fur and seared through to the flesh.

For a moment, it didn't hurt and she wondered what all the fuss had been about. And then the pain hit, fur crackling as it was singed away as if it had never been there. Howling, Gwyn twisted and bucked, but the damage was already done -- just as she'd asked it to be done. The acrid aroma of burned flesh permeated the room and the feline dug her claws into the padded table, eyes watering.

"Easy now, kitty-cat," Flint murmured, a paw in the small of his back as he plunged the brand into a bucket of cold water, steam rising in a plume. "Do you want to stop? I didn't think one would be enough for you."

Gwyn gritted her teeth, legs pressed together to his the moisture between them.

"Keep going."

Flint was hardly going to deny her. Choosing his next brand while she dealt with the first, he pressed it to her opposite buttock, but, this time, Gwyn was ready to handle to bite. The fresh pain was a welcome distraction from the deep, heated throb of the first brand and she mewled piteously as she was marked, tail aching from how forcibly he pinned it up and out of the way to do his work. She supposed it was necessary; she wouldn't have wanted him to accidentally burn her tail.

Deliberately, on the other side of things, would have been quite a different matter.

"What are you branding me with?" She panted, the scrape of a third brand being pulled from the flames catching her attention. "Shapes? Letters?"

"You'll see."

Growling, she pressed her chin into the table and hissed loudly as that brand too pressed into her back, though Flint was careful to avoid her kidneys. Her heart pulled with something new for him. Perhaps he did really care after all, more than she thought. Or perhaps he was just doing his job as owner of his own little parlour, having a reputation of good work to maintain.

She didn't know which one she would have preferred, but the continued branding gave her ample opportunity to distract herself, brands marking up her back in a pattern that would only later be discerned.

Drifting into a state of pain and lust, Gwyn barely realised or reacted when Flint gently swung her legs over the edge of the table and sat her up, helping her to brace herself with her palms laid flat behind her. The world seemed to dip and sway around her as she watched a brand float towards her breast, the metal glowing. The branding surface had been shaped like a claw and there were more like that laid out beside Flint, waiting to be used.

He took his time with her breasts, branding the claws in a circle around each one, spiralling out from each nipple. Fur dropped away from the edges of the brands where it was burned at the root, a light dusting of loose hair falling to the floor around her paws. Gwyn stared at it, breath harsh in her throat as he finished his work, trying to ignore just how everything made her feel. With every dose of pain he delivered, she wondered if it would be what brought her to the peak of that line between pain and pleasure, her rising ecstasy and desire unable to float anymore skyward. And, every time, he proved her wrong as if to say that he had known what he'd been doing and she should deal with the pain for the ultimate reward. And now the branding too.

He pushed her thighs apart, his work far from finished as he moved to tackle even more sensitive flesh. Gwyn arched back and blushed as her sex was revealed, pussy lips glinting with moisture. It should not have been so and she should not have been so aroused by his treatment of her, the marks that would never ever again fade from her body. But as he pressed the brands, one by one, into her thighs, her heart soared to heights beyond her wildest imagination.

When he allowed her to stand in front of the mirror at long last and observe his work, two words were branded into her thighs.

Kitty.

Cat.

She turned slowly on the spot, wincing as skin pulled uncomfortably between the brands, the fan working to remove the mingling scents of burnt flesh and fur from the room. The myriad of shapes mingled with the letters on her back and buttocks to form wings that reached all the way up to her shoulders. The 'wings' folded down over her buttocks, ending with 'sex kitten' imprinted in her flesh, one word on each cheek.

"Happy with it, kitty-cat?" Flint smirked. "I didn't think you'd let me do your breasts, but damn..."

Gwyn swallowed, eyes alight.

"It's very...final," she murmured, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. "And it hurts still. So much."

"I'll get you some cream for that, as you come back down to me. Relax now."

"It was nothing like the piercings," Gwyn said as he laid her gently down, sliding cushions under her neck and legs to keep the worst of the brands elevated; they would, after all, still require cleaning. "It's better. So much better."

Flint smiled at her, running his fingers through the fur atop her head. Without thinking, she purred and leaned into his touch, his fingers sliding down.

"Piercings heal," he murmured, fingers closing lightly around her throat. "But branding is forever, kitty-cat."

Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils, eyes wide and hips gyrating for stimulation she could not achieve -- not without his help.

And Flint was right there to give her everything she needed and more.