Nobody's Servant, Act 1

Finally [vore]

A single thread of saliva acts as the last leash tying me to the prison of the other morph's carnivore teeth. It snaps as she holds me out at arm's length. Exposed to the elements once more, I blanket myself in tails to hide my unclad form from her scanning gaze.

"So... we're good, right?" I ask, at length. "You're convinced I didn't come to kill you?"

My words elicit an uncharacteristic snort from her; I can tell she's stifling an even more pointed laughter behind it but she values her composure.
"I'm not convinced you could kill me," she says. "You do a good job of keeping alive, but gods, do you get hurt a lot when you fight."

"Oh, thanks..." I grumble. She's right, obviously, but I don't need to be told that.

"Anyway, back to my original reason for being here," I say, trying to get this moving, "I need to make my way into the Grand Channel and all the way north to the capital, and I understand your ship is heading back that way."

"You understand right," she affirms. "Why exactly do you need to get to the capital?"

"Well, specifically it's Suraokh that needs it, but he won't say more than that yet," I explain.

"Fair enough. I won't push for more if you don't know. That wouldn't be fair."

Suddenly she cares about fairness? I don't remark on it. "I appreciate it. Now, about letting me get down and changing me back..."

"You don't want me to do that," the jackal states plainly.

"...Yeah. I kinda do," I state just as plainly.

"You're in no position to dress when you're that... sticky."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours," she insists. "You startled me."

I shrug; there's no point trying to argue with her. "Let me guess, back in I go?"

"Perceptive," she remarks, popping me into her mouth moments later.

I feel cheated, somehow, but really I should have expected this. I get accustomed to the red carpet again, all too easily, at least until it forces me against her palate, using the pressure to slide me back. Realizing what she's trying to do, I immediately resist, forcing against it and trying for the front of the mouth.

"What's the idea?" I demand. Before I can place a hand on the rim of a tooth to brace, they close up and I reflexively draw my hand back to avoid it being taken off. A casual rock of the tongue rolls me to the side, placing me on my back atop jagged molars, the upper set of which bears down on me lightly, but still so much more than I could be bothered to appreciate. I'd be an unpleasant crunch though, metal spine already scraping on enamel.

"You said you wouldn't swallow me!"

"I shaid not yet," she smugly corrects, her speech impaired by the fragile body between her teeth. "That wazh then, thish izh now."

The sudden tilt of her head flings me face down onto her tongue again, my feet unable to find purchase on anything, flailing above the sucking flesh, flexing below me in what I assume is a test gulp, to get the radial pressure just right, so that I can just barely not stand it, just like it was last time.

I dig my claws in against the dexterous muscle sliding me back, or at least I try to. The thing is so hardy she could probably eat broken glass if the mood struck her. Not that it would; broken glass doesn't kick or scream.

Unable to do anything else the rest of my body begins to slip, I hold desperately onto wherever I can find a semblance of a handhold, screaming obscenity all the way until her throat closes up, engulfing me in pink quicksand. Just as I predicted, it's the perfect amount of too tight; my ribs audibly shift in my chest and I can't breathe, but it's not enough to knock me out. I'm at her mercy and she demands my full attention to that fact.