The first contact made her breath catch.
The muscle was still a little shy from the last time, even after the bath.
She circled the rim slowly, spreading the liquid, feeling the tiny flinch and then the gradual give.
When she pushed, the tip of her finger sank in. Heat closed around it. The stretch was small and specific, a concentrated fullness that sent a pulse straight through her lower stomach.
She stayed like that, breathing through her mouth, the finger working in and out in short, careful motions until the resistance eased.
Then she added her middle finger.
The second finger made her thighs tense. Her asshole opened around both digits, slick now, the inner muscle fluttering as it tried to decide whether to push her out or pull her deeper.
Nellie leaned forward slightly, the apron hanging off her small breasts, and kept stretching herself.
In. Out. A slow twist.
In. Out. A slow twist.
In. Out. A slow twist.
The wet sound was quiet and obscene in the still room.
Her pussy had started dripping onto the edge of the bed. A thin line of slick ran down the inner curve of one thick thigh.
When she could take both fingers to the second knuckle without the sharp edge of pain, she pulled them out.
The emptiness made her hole twitch.
She picked up the tail plug, let two more drops of the clear liquid fall onto the shaft, and rubbed it until the whole length shone.
The furred tail hung heavy off the base.
She reached back again, used one hand to spread her asscheeks, and set the slick tip against her hole.
She pushed.
The head popped in with a thick, slow stretch.
Nellie’s mouth opened.
"Ah!"
A loud moan left her.
She kept going, lowering herself onto it by degrees, the shaft filling her inch by inch until the flared base seated flush against her rim.
Her asshole closed around it and held.
The tail hung down between her thighs, the fur brushing the backs of her legs.
Fullness sat deep in her ass.
Her heart was beating hard enough that she could feel it in her throat and in her pussy at the same time.
She could not separate the causes.
The plug. The wetness running out of her. The thought of Lor’s hands on the tail the next time he came. The thought of him noticing that she had prepared herself before he even asked.
It was all of it.
She stood.
The tail shifted with the movement, swaying against her bare ass.
The apron still covered her from the front. From behind, there was only pale skin, the wide spread of her hips, and the dark tail hanging between her cheeks.
Nellie walked back to the kitchen with a careful gait. Each step made the plug move inside her.
Each step made the tail wag.
By the time she reached the sink her pussy was wet enough that she could feel it on the tops of her thighs.
She washed her hands twice.
Soap. Rinse. Soap again.
She dried them on a clean cloth and went back to the dough as if nothing about the morning had changed.
It took two hours.
She worked with a patience she did not use on spell theory or maths.
Every measurement was checked. Every tray was spaced.
She watched the color of the cookies through the oven and turned the trays once so the edges would not darken too far.
The plug stayed seated the entire time. Whenever she bent to look into the oven, the tail lifted.
Whenever she stood at the counter and kneaded, her ass flexed and the fur brushed the backs of her thighs.
A slow drip of wetness kept threatening to run lower. She ignored it and kept working.
The mansion filled with the smell of butter and sugar.
When the last tray came out she stood over it and breathed in.
The smell was clean and warm and exactly what she had wanted.
She picked up one cookie, still almost too hot, and ate the whole thing in three bites.
The satisfaction that crossed her face was small and complete.
From a nearby shelf she took down a decorated box.
Gold trim. A printed lid.
She opened it.
Store cookies sat inside in neat rows. They looked almost the same as hers.
Almost.
The only difference was that they weren’t made by her.
Nellie carried the box to the bin and dumped every one of them out.
The fancy, pretty things hit the bottom with a dull sound.
Then she came back to the counter and began placing her own cookies into the empty box, one by one, lining them up as carefully as if someone important were going to open it in front of her.
She was still humming.
The white apron clung to her damp chest and left her ass bare.
The tail wagged in sync with her thighs.
After the last cookie sat in the box, Nellie closed the lid with both hands and pressed it flat until it clicked.
She carried the box to the dining table and set it in the exact centre, where the morning light would hit the gold trim.
Then she wiped her fingers on the apron, leaving a faint streak of butter near her hip, and went to the sideboard for the thin notebook Lor had made her keep.
The pages were already marked up in her small, careful handwriting.
Ones first. Then tens.
Do not rush.
She sat on the edge of a chair, knees together at first, then apart when the tail made sitting straight uncomfortable.
The plug shifted as her weight settled. A fresh line of wetness slid down the inner curve of her thigh and stopped against the wood.
Nellie opened the notebook to a clean line and wrote 542 + 114 the way he had shown her.
She added the ones. Then the tens. Then the hundreds.
She checked it twice before she let herself write 656.
The next one was 672 − 519.
She muttered the steps under her breath, and solved it too.
Then next.
15 × 67....
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