Alone In The Dark

An iron train bridge from the turn of the century, abandoned and left to ruin, withered away unseen behind autumn leaves. The trees had begun to change colour, and late leaf litter scattered in the cool wind. Before the birds would sing their dawn chorus, a young squirrel wandered the overgrown paths. In a world that never truly slept, the only respite was among the forgotten. 

Darkness cowered away from the strike of a purple disposable lighter. In the flicker of the flame, the squirrel lit a cigarette. The flame vanished; a long drag illuminated her facial features. Behind bangs of dark purple hair, her tired eyes sagged in the dim light. Lilac fur grew along her head and muzzle, but gave way to cream that continued down her chest. With a slow exhale, a cloud of smoke filtered into the air.

Sounds of the forest perked her ears; and they wobbled and scanned as she made her way deeper into the shadows. There was nothing to fear in the dark, no boogeyman, no ghosts nor ghouls. For the comfort of darkness was hers alone; and with a final drag of her cigarette, she melted into a passing shadow. 

Silently, she materialized on the crumbling arch of the old bridge. With her cigarette in paw, she sat facing the horizon. Over the canopy of trees, the sun began to rise. Through wisps of smoke, the first rays of dawn’s light reflected in her brilliant teal eyes. For the faintest of moments, the young squirrel felt warm and secure. That was, until, the sun cleared the horizon and the world woke. 

With a sharp inhale, she finished her cigarette and crushed the butt into the rusted iron. The shadows had retreated further into the forest, leaving her to walk across the iron beams and jump from arch to arch; proving all squirrels were natural acrobats. Though, the early morning dew would prove a great menace; and a misstep had the squirrel tumbling the last few feet to the ground below. A panicked squeak was all she could manage before slamming rump first into the dirt. 

“Fantastic...” She mumbled, as she gingerly rubbed her stinging rear. “That’s gonna bruise...”

Clouds of dust filled the air as she wiped her school uniform clean. Her black skirt billowed with every step, and she tried her best to smooth out her red and black top. She adjusted her shirt and bra, making sure the emblem for Wildstar Elementary was just above her heart. Once everything was in order, she reached out towards a shadow and slipped inside; leaving a telltale trail of purple mana in her wake. 

The ticking clock in Mrs. Elmwood’s class was a constant agony. Each tick pierced into the squirrel, and the following tock made her whiskers twitch. That was the only sound within the classroom, besides the scratch of Mrs. Elmwood’s chalk against the blackboard. The busty, black and white tabby cat finished with what she was writing and turned, grabbing a stack of papers off her desk.

“Lyra.” Mrs. Elmwood said, jolting the squirrel awake. “Place these on the desks. We’ll be jumping right into science lessons this morning.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

Lyra sighed. Being the Teacher’s Assistant for Elmwood was like doing hard labour in prison. There was hardly a moment of rest, nor would the cat take it easy on her. Not after what happened the year before. The teacher was adamant in her decision to humiliate her further.

The classroom was average in size. Twenty desks, a student to each; a paper to each. A few minutes to spare before the bell rang. Lyra sat back down at her desk. It was a special arrangement for her. Away from the other students, and close to the teacher. It was, of course, so she could act as the Teacher’s Assistant, but it made her feel segregated, cut off from normal interaction. However, one benefit was that she was fairly private, alone, away from the ears and eyes of the teacher and her students. Her paw slipped into a pocket, where she thumbed with a small remote. A click turned a toy on, another increased the power. She sighed in relief as the vibration kicked in, the pleasure taking her mind off the torture she had to endure. 

The bell rang, and the first of Elmwood’s class began to pour inside. Lyra paid no particular attention to any of the students, but a young wolf caught her eye, for she was glaring at her with fiery intensity. Lyra snorted and looked away, not giving the young girl any sort of satisfaction. 

Once the class had settled, Mrs. Elmwood began her introduction to the lesson. Lyra glossed over it, focusing on the pleasure from her vibe, only to be brought back to reality once Mrs. Elmwood finished. 

“Remember,” Mrs. Elmwood said. “Be wise, be kind.”

And then there was silence. Only the scratch of pencils, and the occasional whisper, could be heard among the children. It was boring. Terribly so. Lyra tapped her climbing claws on the desk, watching the clock tick dreadfully slow. The vibrator kept a rhythmic pace inside her, tickling the right spots, but it was just not enough to bring her to that pleasurable high she so desperately needed. She bit her lip, her thumb tracing along the remote. With a moment of hesitation, she pressed the button, and her toy went wild inside her. She held back a moan, her toes tensed, and her legs crossed as her pleasure soared to new heights! If only she could keep it up, for just a few minutes, she would finally get relief...

Almost there... Fuck... Come on...

“Phones away, Children!” Mrs. Elmwood said as she slapped a ruler against her desk. “You know the rules.”

Lyra squeaked, her face flushing red hot. She fumbled through her pocket, using the remote to turn her vibrator down before she could raise suspicion. Her denied orgasm clouded her mind like a dense fog. She needed to cum, but now it would be impossible. She sighed, and picked up a pencil with a shaky paw. What little work she had was laughable, far too easy and quite insulting, but it was better than nothing. She aimlessly worked away at the papers, the day dragging on and on, until a soft squeak broke the silence. 

A paw had been raised in the air. Lyra looked up, her eyes locking on to a blonde mouse. His giant round ears wiggled, and his paw waved to get her attention. The mouse wore the typical Wildstar Elementary t-shirt, below that, he wore a black skirt. 

My old friends would have beat this kid up every chance they'd get... I would have watched and laughed, too. Lyra sighed and looked down at her desk in shame. He looks so small and fragile. What if I hurt him? I’m not like that anymore, right?

Just as the mouse was about to give up, Lyra dramatically pushed out of her seat.  

You’ve changed, Lyra. Prove it to everyone.

With a flick of her ear, she walked over to his desk, keeping her huge tail tight against her back. 

“What do you need, Timias?” 

The mouse wiggled his nose indignantly. “My name is Timothy!” 

Lyra sighed and rubbed her forehead with a paw. “Okay, Timothy...” She said, trying her best to keep her annoyance at a minimum. “What do you need help with?”

Timothy swallowed nervously. “I... I need help with cells and stuff...” 

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Well, squeaker. You came to the right squirrel. See, cells can take many shapes and sizes...”

Timothy nodded dumbly, hardly able to follow the squirrel at all. It was as if she was reciting the text book word for word. The squirrel droned on about every little detail she could scrounge up from the depths of her mind. She flipped through the text book and cited her sources at each page turn. With a claw, she pointed at the page numbers before moving on.

“You getting this, kiddo?” 

The mouse was not getting it. He was, however, getting an eyeful of Lyra’s peach sized breasts. The squirrel was definitely in the middle of puberty, sporting boobs bigger than any other female in the class. That was enough to take his attention, let alone the eye candy she was unknowingly giving him by leaning over his desk. He could see right down her bra, her perky, ebony-purple nipples on full display. A hot blush washed across his cheeks, and his whiskers wiggled and twitched. 

“Uhh...” 

Lyra chittered; and with great restraint, she kept herself at least a bit composed. “Don’t just sit there. Write these page numbers down.” 

Timothy hastily pulled his gaze from Lyra’s chest and did what he was told. 

Next to the chittering rodents, Rekka watched Lyra suspiciously. She was protective of Timothy, and for good reason. The wolf was well aware of Lyra’s past and the terrible things she had done as a bully the previous school year. 

“And, that is it. Read through those pages. You’ll get it in no time, kiddo.” 

“T-thanks, Lyra...” Timothy squeaked. 

There were cold, steel-blue eyes on Lyra's back; that wolf was watching her. Rekka Shields - Rebecca - but don't call her that. She grinds her teeth when teachers say it, and raises her hackles when it's another kid. Rekka was tapping her pencil on her desk, her eyes darting between Lyra and her classwork - her brow was furrowed and she looked ready to pounce on Lyra at the slightest provocation. 

She must be friends with the mouse... She thinks I'm going to crush his little heart or something, and she's probably not wrong.

Lyra turned to Rekka, and their eyes locked instantly. Rekka wore a challenging scowl, and Lyra felt a familiar venom rising in her throat.

Come on, Ly. Why start something? You're supposed to be better than this...

But she couldn't help herself; her bored expression rose into into a self-satisfied smirk. “Did you need help with anything, Rebecca?” She let the name hang on her tongue. Before she had finished the last syllable, Rekka's eyes narrowed and she rapped a finger against the desk, firmly, to make sure the other would hear. 

“Watch your mouth, squirrel, or I’ll have to shut it for you.”

Lyra chuckled and turned in her chair to lounge on the desk behind her, turning up her snout and eyeing Rekka's legs. “Hmmm, you look like you're in good shape, sweetheart. But I'm still not so sure you could."

Rekka took that personally. Her pink highlights lit up with a fiery blaze and she pushed out of her seat, ready to fight right then and there. 

“Rebecca!” Mrs. Elmwood sternly called. “Cool yourself, or you’ll be choosing a punishment.” 

As if to emphasis her point, Mrs. Elmwood leaned under her desk; pawing for a very well known tool. Rekka’s ears twitched and she paled in horror. That would have been enough to deter any of the children, even Rekka, but the punishment wasn’t what scared the fiery girl, it was the threat of humiliation and the subsequent stain on her reputation as a good girl. 

Rekka took a seat. Lyra lounged in her chair, having dodged any sort of punishment herself, much to her own surprise. Perhaps Mrs. Elmwood was feeling merciful, but the squirrel doubted that. With only an hour left to lunch, Lyra relaxed, letting her vibrator tease her into oblivion. 

What felt like an eternity later, the lunch bell finally rang. The children rushed out the door, all of them eager to eat and get some fresh air. Lyra, however, would not be joining them. The halls were barren by the time she was able to leave the classroom; but not by the grace of her captor, no. Lyra had detention, permanently. 

Detention. The word hung dryly on the end of her tongue. She composed herself and entered his classroom. It was empty as usual - this was an uncommon punishment at Wildstar, a place where old-fashioned spanking by hand, switch or paddle was the norm. At the start of the new school year, when the headmaster had summoned Lyra to his office to lecture her on the terms of her return, she sat and listened patiently with no questions and no flinching; she did not ask for how long the detentions would last, nor did she ask if she would ever be able to make up her lost grade, as from the first moment she had been allowed back into his office Lyra knew she was being tested - she had much to prove if she were going to resume a normal education. 

She hadn't seen her parents in person since last Winter Solstice celebrations, and she wouldn't again until the next... She nevertheless felt their seething disappointment over whatever the vast distance between them was at this moment - "diplomats" they insisted they were. Whatever their true mysterious vocation was, it kept Lyra sequestered here at Wildstar, and if Lyra's action led to her needing to be moved to another school...

It wasn't an option. They wouldn't have it. She had to recover, that meant taking her punishment with dignity. The way she recovered at school would determine whether or not she would survive face-to-face contact with her father during their yearly visit this winter. Their conditional love would be hard re-earned.

These daily detentions, dry indeed, were just one such display of discipline to the faculty, but it wasn't all bad; Her favourite teacher, Mr. Starchwater, handled her detention every lunch period. 

After the first couple of weeks of September on this routine they had become accustomed to spending their lunches together in near silence, and as such Mr. Starchwater did not look up from his paperwork as Lyra walked in. She wiggled her nose - she was hoping he'd chance to be the first to say hello for once. 

No matter. "Good afternoon, Mr. Starchwater."

He smiled, but did not look up from whatever classwork he was grading. "Good afternoon, Miss Deep-Winter."

With a huff, she sat down at her desk and produced her modest lunch. Left to her own devices to feed herself, her lunch was bland and barely satisfactory. She was getting skinny... Whatever. A granola bar and some fruit would keep her alive until dinner. She opened and nibbled the granola bar.

Laid in front of her on the desk nearest to the teacher's was a totally brainless make-work detention assignment... The usual, basic math and problem solving exercises every day.

Ho hum. 
  
She looked up from the boring busywork to Mr. Starchwater... He wasn't paying her any mind. It looked like he was wrapping up the stack of papers. Should she bug him? Strut up to his desk and ask him what he's doing? He's been getting more receptive to her advances over the past couple of weeks. Maybe it's too early. He'll ask he if she's started the assignment, tell her to eat her lunch. 

She reached into her backpack and fished out her pencil case, then fiddled with the remote for her discreet vibrator behind it...

... It's almost out of batteries, Uuuuugh. 

Too much power wasted teasing herself all morning, there's no way she'll get off all the way with it now. Not without having to use her hands, and Starch... Mr. Starchwater, pays enough attention that she won't get away with that.

Now what?

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had a massive bruise on her ass, and it was getting worse as the day went on. It certainly couldn't be helping with her mood. She clicked off the remote knowing it wouldn't satisfy her, then looked up to Mr. Starchwater with predatory eyes. A raccoon, recently divorced, middle-aged, incredibly attractive for an adult... 

But then again, that last part might just be her. Lyra's old clique made fun of her relentlessly for months when she mentioned she found his "dad bod" sexy.

Harold Starchwater... His species iconic bandit-mask of fur greyed only slightly, and his head of brown hair was slicked back, prim and proper. He wore a white dress shirt and a green tie, in which his broad shoulders made him out to be of large stature. Not overly muscular, but fit, portly around the middle; a total dad. He wore nice cologne and held himself with confidence in front of the class. 

He had good advice, too.

Perhaps she was a bit smitten with him. He was a nice guy, and even when she was at her worst last year he had still given her the benefit of the doubt. 

Starch was probably the only teacher on the faculty who had spoken in her favour, but in the settling dust of her last academic year, she felt couldn't really call him that anymore. When she had in the past, it was disrespectful over familiarity - Mr. Starch was normal for all the kids, Mr. Starchwater was just becoming uncomfortable for both of them.

Frustration finally pushed Lyra out of her chair. Her ass was hurting too much from the fall, and the itch in her nethers was growing unbearable. Even if she couldn't make something happen this lunch hour, she had to stand up from that awful chair. 

Her tail flicked and twitched, and her whiskers wiggled. She tried to walk casually, but half a dozen sources of discomfort combined with her lust-addled pubescent mind, the lingering dull pleasure of the vibrator still inside her. Mr. Starchwater did not look up from his work as Lyra leaned against his desk, but she saw a benign smile creep across his soft features.

The expression she was aiming for was casual, but it's hard to say what she landed on. “What are ya up to, Mr. Starchwater?”

He exhaled and put down his pen. For the first time since she had entered the room, he looked her in the eye. He was still smiling. “You know Miss... You know Lyra, I think we can go back to you calling me Mr. Starch again.”

"I'm really glad you said that, cause I was losing my mind worrying about what I should call you."

He laughed. "I'm glad that's settled, then. Pull up your chair, Lyra."
 
It was as if a weight was lifted from her heart. Too many nights spent worrying over nothing. With a smile, she pulled a chair over to Starch’s desk; but that smile turned into a wince as soon as she sat down.

“Ouch!” 

Mr. Starchwater looked up from his work. “What’s wrong?”

Lyra adjusted slightly, making sure to favour the bruised side of her rump. “Just took a nasty fall at the old railroad bridge this morning...” 

“You should be more careful.” He insisted, giving her a stern look. “What if you were hurt badly? What if no one could find you?” That typical parenting lecture, one she never usually got, but kinda enjoyed to hear from someone that truly cared. 

But, with every word Lyra’s whiskers twitched. “I’m fine, Starch. Relax.”

Mr. Starch sighed. “You should at least let the nurse take a look.” 

“N-no! Anything but that!” Lyra quickly said. “She never believes a word I say.”

“Ah, see? The little squirrel that cried wolf. Too many sicks days, lass.” The look on Lyra’s face was priceless. He laughed heartily and swivelled his chair to get a better look at the squirrel. “Oh, don’t be all sour.”

“I’m trying to be better.” Lyra pouted. “I just wish everyone else saw it.”

“They do! They certainly do.” Starchwater gave Lyra a pat on the head. “You just need more time. Until then, expect harsher treatment.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No. It isn’t, but life never is.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe Mrs. Elmwood will take a look at it? She is very impressed with your progress, you know.”

Lyra perked up. “I’m happy she is starting to warm up to me, but I can’t trust her to look... down there...” She motioned towards her rear end. “That’s private, ya know.”

The raccoon nervously laughed and cleared his throat. “I’m well aware!” 

Lyra smirked, “Then, you wouldn’t mind looking?” 

Mr. Starchwater blushed and fumbled with his pen. With a deep breath, he adjusted his tie and sat up straighter, trying to remain composed in front of his student. 

“I shouldn’t. I’m not a registered nurse! I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Lyra hopped out of her chair. “Come on, Starch! It really hurts and I don’t trust anyone else.” 

Mr. Starch swallowed nervously. He looked to the closed door, and then back to Lyra, whom had pushed closer. Those pleading, beautiful eyes and that bushy tail flicking behind her. 

“Please?” 

“F-fine. Let it be known this is purely for professional medical reasons....”

Lyra chittered happily. “It is starting to hurt a bit more than before. Be careful around it, will you?”

“Yes, yes.” He said as he stood up from his desk. “Lean over my desk... Just like if you were gonna get the switch.” 

Lyra was very familiar with the position. She leaned over his desk, careful not to push anything over. “Like this?” 

“That will do.” 

The raccoon dwarfed the little squirrel. She was small for her age, but was clearly in the midst of puberty, not that he would dwell on that thought for too long. He looked back to the door one last time before taking a knee behind Lyra. 

“Okay... I’m going to lift your skirt now. Are you okay with that?” 

Lyra looked back with a smile. “Yes.” She made an effort to keep her tail raised for him.

Mr. Starch thought his heart would beat out of his chest. His ears got hot and his cheeks flushed red. With a shaky paw, he grabbed the hem of her skirt and slowly lifted it up. Baby blue-stripped panties kept the little girl modest. They must have been a size too small, for a good portion of her bare bottom was on full display. He couldn’t help but take in as much of the view as possible. Straight from a fantasy, she was. The touch of a child so young. He craved it, desperately so; but never once had he acted on his attraction throughout his entire career.

What a nice ass... He sighed. Come on, Harold... Cut it out. She trusts you. Don’t let her down.

“Is something wrong, Starch?” Lyra asked.

“N-no. Nothing at all!” He cleared his throat. “Just can’t seem to find it. Purple bruise on purple fur...” Without another wasted second, he tried his best to search visually for the bruise. “Where abouts does it hurt?”

“Close to the base of my tail, but down in the middle.” She bent over farther and then spread her legs, allowing her tail to flop down on her back. “Here,” She grabbed his paw and pressed it against her injury. “Right there.”

Harold just about had a heart attack when he felt the soft fabric of her panties. She kept his hand in place long enough for him to relax. With a deep breath, he pressed gently against the spot and took his time doing so, savouring every moment.

“I... I feel a bump.”

“Do you see anything?”

“I can’t see the bruise past your panties, but you certainly hurt yourself.” He meant nothing by this, but his words hit him like a truck a moment after.

“Then take them off.” Lyra whispered.

It wasn’t orchestrated or planned, nor did he scheme it to be. Those words hung in the air and made his ears twitch. For so long he had hidden his secret love for children. He had resisted all and every temptation his students had given him; yet, here he was, his paws up the skirt of his most beloved student. She was doing it on purpose, he knew. She had been for a while, flirting and teasing. He loved every minute of it. She was an incredibly attractive child, a teen, but still a child, especially considering the age difference between them. His heart raced. Be it because of the divorce, or his love for kids, he finally gave in. Her consent pushing him to the point of no return. 

Lyra held up her skirt in anticipation, giving him the view he so desperately needed. She could feel his shaky paws press against her hips, one on either side as he hooked his thumbs under her waist band and slooowly tugged her panties down. He hesitated just before her pussy would be on display, but with a deep breath, he tugged them down fully, leaving them down around her knees.

“Y-yup,” He nervously began. “Q-quite the bruise! You r-really should keep better care of yourself...”

“I’ll try...”

Starch couldn’t help but look. His eyes drifted away from the bruise to take in her bare ass. With her tail raised, he could see her tight, little star and below that, her underage pussy. His first look at a naked child. Through the excitement, he had failed to notice the sweet scent of arousal wafting from her privates. She was soaking wet, practically shaking in his paws.

“Oh my heavens...” Harold whispered, his paw spreading her ass just enough to see the delicate pink insides of her developing, teenage flower.

“See something you like, Starch?” Lyra said, giving him a cheeky smile.

“J-just checking for more damage...”

“Riiiiight,” Lyra teased. “Make sure to check everywhere. You wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

Harold nodded, eager to explore every inch of the little girl. Her vibrator was clearly visible, and the slight vibration could be felt as his fingers brush across her wet folds.

“Playing with toys in class, Lyra?” He smirked. “That’s against the rules.” 

Lyra snorted, “So is spreading my ass in detention...”

They shared a laugh, their previous worries and fears melting away. It was so natural, the act of being close, something they had been building up to unknowingly.
 
“I’m going to have to confiscate it.” He tugged on the toy, making Lyra squirm. Another tug popped the toy free, leaving her gaped. The act alone made his cock twitch, his arousal was pushed to new heights, something that even his ex-wife was unable to do. He tossed the toy aside, eager to get back to work.

Every fantasy he had ever had was coming true, thanks to this naughty squirrel. He took one last look at her display before deciding right then. In for a penny, in for a pound. He shoved his nose against her little pussy and inhaled deeply, catching the young teen off guard. She squeaked! And pressed her rump tight against his invading muzzle. Her scent made him shake with pleasure, intoxicating to the extreme. He licked up from the bottom of her pussy to the warmth of her tailhole, taking in everything the little girl had to offer. 

Lyra sighed dreamily and relaxed against Starch’s desk, “Oooh, that’s good...” 

She needed it, almost as bad as he did. They were both pent up, unbelievably so. Each lick from his warm tongue made her shiver and squeak. He was so gentle and kind, his tongue like velvet against her sensitive folds. His paws gripped her hips with a dominate, yet caring grasp; as if saying she was his now and his alone, at least in that moment. He only stopped his delicate kisses to come up for air, having forgotten to breath anything other than her intoxicating sexual scent. 

“Holy fuck, Starch...” She huffed, “Keep going... Almost there...” 

Harold’s heart fluttered. He fumbled with his belt, hurrying to free his cock into his paw as he kept up his barrage. His tongue pressed between her folds and sank inside, as deep as he could go. She moaned and squeaked, bringing a paw to her small breasts to squeeze and pinch through her clothing. She was so close, maddening so. A twist of his tongue made her tense, and then he pulled out just as quickly from her squeezing depths, only to lick in rapid circles around her sensitive clit.

Lyra barked and chirped, a chittering only done by squirrels in times of great pleasure. She arched her back and pressed her rump into Harold’s face as she came hard. It was if a veil of mindless pleasure fell upon them both. His paw was a blur, working his shaft as Lyra’s painted his face with hot nectar. He swallowed every drop, his face dripping with orgasmic fluids.

In the midst of her orgasm, she didn’t notice Harold move. Driven by blind lust, he pressed his thick cock against Lyra’s tensing pussy. She grunted as he pushed himself to a hilt in one thrust. He didn’t even give her time to adjust to his large size. His paws held her small hips and steadied her as he slowly pulled out to his tip; he slammed back inside, his gentle nature forgotten, replaced with the need and the desire to breed this young female. The room echoed with her moans and his grunts and growls. Those wet, desperate smacks emphasizing a primal union. 

With her second orgasm on the horizon, Lyra sprawled herself on the desk, knocking over several of Harold’s knick-knacks. Neither of them cared, nor did they even notice as his “World’s Best Teacher” mug shattered against the floor. She kicked her panties off and spread her legs as far as she could, completely giving herself for his use. It was what she wanted, had been wanting for a long time. Her eyes rolled into her head as she practically drooled from the overload of pleasure. 

The tight, velvet heat of her underage pussy; the way it hugged his cock and begged for more. His deepest, darkest fantasy had come true. In a burst of primal passion, he slammed his paws down on his desk, and his rhythm became erratic and sloppy. He couldn’t hold on, couldn’t stop himself. He slammed himself as deep as he could go, making the young girl squeak. Pleasure erupted between them as he painted her constricting walls with his hot cum. She barked in orgasm, sharing the most intimate moment of theirs lives together in unparalleled bliss. 

Lyra could feel every single pulse, every shot of cum and the jolt of his hips against her rear. He came deep, not even trying to pull out, as if he truly wanted to breed with this little girl, to make her carry his pups. If she had been in heat, she would have been impregnated; not that Lyra would mind, she craved the sex, craved his seed inside her. Wanted it, needed it. To have a round tummy would be worth it, especially if the father was Starch. 

Harold’s orgasm faded and he sighed in relief. Slowly, he pulled his cock from her still twitching pussy, and with a wet pop, it came free, a torrent of cum spilling between her legs and on to the floor. Lyra squeaked with each ragged breath she took. Her paw went between her legs and cupped her pussy with a palm, trying her best to keep Harold’s cum inside her.

“W-wow... You really got me good... I didn’t know you had it in ya...” Lyra huffed and tried pushing herself away from the desk, but she fell back against it, unable to stand on shaky paws.

Clarity quickly invaded Harold’s mind as he inspected the aftermath. Fear. Regret. It hit him hard. A feeling of pure shame and guilt. His face paled, and on shaky legs, he found himself sitting on his chair, his softening cock still out in full view. 

“What have I done...” 

Lyra huffed and straightened herself out, “You did nothing wrong, Starch.” 

With great effort, she walked over to him, a trail of cum dripping from her privates. “I know how you feel... That you’ll get in trouble or you regret what you’ve done... But, please. Don’t. For me? I won’t tell anyone...” She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. 

He slowly nodded. “D-did you like it?”

“I loved every moment,” She said with a smile. “Just, relax. Okay? I’ll clean us up.” 

It wasn’t as if Lyra wasn’t expecting his reaction, no, she predicted it. Played it out in her mind, over and over, till she was satisfied. She walked over to her bag and rooted around for her baby wipes and some paper towel. With those in paw, she walked back to Starch. She pulled out a wipe and wrapped it around his cock and gently cleaned him of their shared fluids. Then, she did the same with herself, wiping his dripping seed from her flower. With that done, she found her panties and stepped back into them, making sure to bend all the way over for Starch to see her rear end. 

“Lyra... What we did... We shouldn’t ha-.” 

Lyra shushed him. “No. None of that. I wanted it. You wanted it. We did nothing wrong.” She leaned close and pulled him into a hug. “I know it’s hard. Just take deep breaths. Calm down. You’re fine.”

Harold relaxed and returned the hug, “Thank you...” 

They stayed like that for the rest of detention, savouring the special warmth and intimacy.