The Taste of Morning

The first thing Cassia registered was the warmth. Not the familiar weight of her blanket, but something slicker, wetter, spilling across her lips, the bridge of her nose, pooling in the hollow of her closed eyes.

Then came the scent. Musky. Intoxicating. Oddly Familiar? Her brain supplied before her conscious mind could catch up. Cassia’s eyes flew open to a blur of white and pink directly above her.

Mira’s futa cock, still twitching, flicked the last pearly beads of her release onto Cassia’s parted lips.

“Morning, Princess,” Mira purred, her voice a breathless giggle. “Thought I’d give you a wake-up call.”

Cassia choked, sputtering against the salty seed coating her tongue. She shoved Mira’s hips aside and sat up, wiping her palm across her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth.

“You-” Cassia’s voice cracked, raw with drowsiness and outrage. “You came on my face!”

Mira was already halfway out the door, pulling a loose tunic over her head. She glanced back over one shoulder, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

“You looked so peaceful,” she said, mock-earnest. “And you were about to be late for class.” She pressed a theatrical hand to her chest. “What was a futa to do?”

"Wake me up like a normal person!" Cassia grabbed the nearest thing, a book from her nightstand, and hurled it as hard as she could. Mira ducked, laughing as it struck the doorframe.

“Enjoy your day, Princess!” Mira blew a kiss, exiting. “Think of my cock every time you lick your lips. That taste really lingers, doesn’t it? A little reminder of who you truly are.”

She was gone before Cassia could throw something else, the door swinging shut on the sound of her delighted, receding giggles.

Cassia sat there, trembling, half from fury, half from something else. Something slow and molten pooling low in her belly. She wiped her face again with the corner of her sheet. But the smell remained. Faint, yes, but unmistakable. That salty musk that seemed to curl around her nostrils with every breath.

Her pussy tingled and her Unus cock stirred.

No. Cassia thought, hard. My will. My body. My choice.

But her hips rolled anyway, a small, involuntary grind. She could feel the latent beta urges in her whispering that submission tasted sweeter than pride.

Cassia slammed her pillow into her face and screamed. “Fuck!”

Her arousal didn’t fade. It instead settled into a low, agreeable thrum. Manageable. Ignorable even. But constantly present.

“Ugh, not the ideal start to the day.” Cassia sighed.

She dressed methodically, her tunic, her sandals, her bag. She tied her long blonde hair back with a leather cord before checking her reflection with a small, polished brass mirror.

Good enough… she shrugged, feeling slightly more put together.