The Island of Wonder

Touching Iloe, Nicole felt the catgirl’s skin break out in goosebumps at her words. Her hand trailed down from Iloe’s waist to her ass, giving the soft flesh a gentle squeeze. After a quick glance around, Nicole spotted a large, unoccupied wooden bench not far from them — big enough to be considered a low table.

Nicole picked the catgirl up with ease; her delicate frame was light enough for Nicole to carry her to the bench and lay her down.

“It may not be the best, but it’s surely better than the ground or sand,” Nicole said almost apologetically.

She leaned over Iloe, her hand slowly traveling along the girl’s curves toward her crotch. The catgirl was motionless, except for her quickened breathing and the soft gasps that escaped her whenever Nicole touched her most sensitive places.

When Nicole’s hand reached the already wet lower lips of her lover, her fingers traced the slick entrance before she slowly pushed one finger inside, feeling the tight clench around it.

“Ahmhh…” Iloe moaned for the first time that night.

Fuck, she’s just too cute. I want to make her moan for me more.

Nicole licked her lips. “Don’t hold back. Show me how much you enjoy this.” She began slowly moving her finger inside Iloe. Getting tired of leaning over, Nicole lay down beside the catgirl, partially on top of her, pressing their torsos together so that one of her breasts rested against Iloe’s.

“Come on, I know you’re shy, but don’t be boring,” she whispered, her other arm sliding under Iloe’s neck while her hand softly kneaded the catgirl’s breast, teasing the stiff nipple and drawing another moan from her.

“C-can I?” Iloe stammered, her hand suddenly landing on Nicole’s neck and moving to the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Whoa, I didn’t expect such boldness. That’s great — it means you feel free with me,” Nicole smiled after the kiss.

Iloe said nothing, but her palm now slid lower onto Nicole’s breast. She gave it an experimental squeeze before growing more confident and active in her touch. Seeing that the shy kitten wasn’t afraid of the intimacy, Nicole added another finger inside her and quickened her pace. For the next few minutes, they kept kissing, their movements becoming more eager and rougher.

“F-fuck… ahmhh…” Iloe moaned helplessly, quivering under Nicole’s practiced touch.

“Yes… don’t hold it in. Let your body give in,” Nicole purred, their faces only centimeters apart.

She added a third finger, pumping rapidly in and out. Sensing Iloe’s climax approaching, Nicole captured her lips in a deep kiss and pinched one of her nipples between her fingers.

“Mmmhh!” Iloe’s moan was muffled by the kiss as her half-lidded eyes flew open.

Her hips bucked, held firmly in place by Nicole’s hand. Waves of pleasure rippled through her body, making her tremble.

Only when the shudders subsided completely did Nicole break the kiss and pull her fingers out.

“Oh god…” the catgirl whispered. “That was… I think the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” Her breathing slowed, and before Nicole could reply, Iloe’s eyes closed.

Huh? Did it tire her out that much? Maybe it’s because she doesn’t do this often — too much for her at once.

Nicole gently petted the catgirl’s head, lying close beside her. But it didn’t take long for Nicole’s own arousal to remind her that she had needs too — and watching a sleeping girl, no matter how cute, wasn’t enough.

Looking around, she saw that everyone else was either busy or asleep on the ground. So she decided to walk around, in case someone was in the same situation. Yet after some time, she found no one.

Hell no. I’m not joining random strangers, and doing it alone during an orgy feels pathetic.

During her wander, Nicole somehow ended up on the beach. The moon was high in the cloudless sky, filling the empty beach and calm ocean with its ethereal light. As she walked peacefully, she noticed a figure lying at the shoreline, waves brushing their legs.

Approaching, she saw it was Tiralie — her naked body and scars made her unmistakable. At first Nicole thought she was sleeping, but as she came closer, Tiralie looked up.

“I’m not taking part in the celebration, if that’s why you’re here.”

“Oh, I didn’t even know you were here. Mind if I join you?”

Maybe this is a good chance to ask about traveling with her. But not yet.

Without a reply from Tiralie, Nicole lay down on the sand, keeping a respectful half-meter distance. They spent a few minutes in silence.

“Actually, it’s good that you found me,” Tiralie said at last. “I wanted to thank you for helping back then, Nicole — even though it cost you.”

“It’s okay. I decided to fight the Beast myself, so don’t blame yourself for being too weak to deal with it alone.”

Wait, did she just call me by name? She’s never done that before. Is that respect? I hope so.

“To me, you’re just another scar — just not on my body,” Tiralie said softly, her voice lacking its usual commanding tone.

“Huh? I’m not your scar, or anyone’s. What’s done is done, and there are too many factors to blame one person. I’m definitely not blaming you, just so you know. And what’s this thing about nakedness and scars, anyway?”

“That’s good for you. But… alright. Listen. I don’t usually talk about this with anyone. But since you helped me, and you caught me in this… mood, I’ll tell you. Just don’t repeat it. I know there are plenty of rumors about me, and I don’t care — but I don’t need more.”

“Of course, don’t worry. I know when something’s important.”

Tiralie sighed, gathering her thoughts.

“So you asked about my scars and why I don’t wear clothes. To understand that, you need to know about my past…”

* * *

Oren’thall — a vast, circular city in the middle of a tropical forest, surrounded by a high, gray stone wall. Over five meters thick, the wall had internal walkways that allowed guards to patrol and do their jobs. From the perspective of a bird perched on the wall, one could see another, smaller wall within. It separated the city into two sections — one meant for the wealthy and influential, and the other for everyone else.

In the middle of the wealthier district stood a grand marble palace, gleaming in the daylight.

The sunny streets were filled with Torakai people, though here and there were members of other tribes, all walking through the narrow streets and alleys between stone and wooden buildings. Some hurried about their business, others sat in front of their homes, selling the fruits of their labor — fresh produce, handmade tools, or crude weapons.

The farther one went from the city’s center, the worse it looked. Smiles were rarer, and beggars crowded the corners. In contrast, the closer to the marble palace, the cleaner the streets, and the more relaxed and content the inhabitants seemed. Yet, ironically, one thing was the same in both parts of Oren’thall — slaves. Most were criminals or members of rival tribes. Slave shops were few, only a handful throughout the entire city.

In one such place, located on the outskirts near the main gates, two Torakai sat in a cramped cage — a tall, muscular man, once a proud warrior, and a woman, almost as strong as him. They had no names; slaves were stripped of them, and years of captivity had erased their memories of the past. It was common practice to force slaves to live together in hopes they would breed, increasing the shop’s “stock.” In this case, it worked — their daughter now lived alone in her own small cell nearby. Like her parents, she had no name.

Her days followed the same routine: waking up, eating whatever the shop owner provided, and waiting to see if anyone would buy her. But that didn’t mean her life was easy or predictable. It wasn’t — not for her, nor for any other slave. While waiting to be sold, every slave was assigned work. It didn’t matter what — cleaning, repairing, or if one was lucky, cooking. Regardless of the task, no one was safe from punishment.

The shop owner, an older yet still powerful man, demanded that every job be done well and quickly — or rather, better and faster than possible. And since it was never good enough, most slaves were punished daily. Not too harshly, so as not to damage the merchandise, but enough to leave marks.

By the girl’s fifteenth birthday, her body was already covered in scars. One might think she would grow used to the pain — and in a way, she did. Yet with each day, her fear grew stronger. She saw what happened to the older girls: each one was eventually paired with a male to breed. Though pregnancy meant temporary rest and slightly better food, none of them wanted to be at the mercy of a tired, angry man. The girl saw and heard what others endured, and every day she trembled at the thought that the shopkeeper might decide it was her turn next.

One fateful day, a stranger entered the dimly lit shop. He was a man even larger than the owner — wearing only black leather pants adorned with golden ornaments, worth more than the entire shop and its slaves combined.

It was morning. The girl was still in her cage, positioned just right to see both the shop’s entrance and the shopkeeper.

As soon as the slave owner saw the stranger, his eyes widened — a mix of fear and reverence crossing his face. The girl couldn’t hear their words as they spoke, nor did she care much. But the next time she looked up, the stranger was standing right in front of her cell.

“She will do.”

Soon after those words, the girl was out of her cage and out of the shop, following the stranger through the morning streets of Oren’thall.