Blackwater Islands so a consort and a harlot walk into a bar

She turned, beckoning him to return to her. Whip, of course, obliged. Everything about her drew him in like a sailor to a siren's call. It felt dangerous. It felt wild. And for the first time in Whip's short life, he felt like he was finally living. She motioned toward her rear, exposing herself for him. Though Whip lacked any experience or prior knowledge, instinct was a funny thing. It was just like that day Akantha had taught him how to swim, where as soon as his paws left the ocean floor, Whip knew exactly what to do. It was like knowing without knowing why.

And it was for that reason that Whip felt a compulsion to take Kalika by the hip. He threw a foreleg over her back, and then the other. Both limbs hooked around her waist. He pulled her into his grip until their hips made contact. First, Whip thrusted his hip into hers without making any connection. It took a few exploratory movements before he finally made his mark. But when he finally did, he drove deep.