The Sable Society



The invitation was gold leaf and parchment, addressed to me by name,
Miss Veronique Pavageau, and quite unexpected.

"But what is it?" I asked. "A party? Some sort of debutante ball?" I
indulged that possibility with a soft laugh.

My friend Heather merely smiled, which suggested to me that she didn't
properly know herself who had sent me the note or why.

"The Sable Society." I sighed at that bit of useless information. I'd
never heard of such a thing, but being in my first year at the
Buchanan Finishing School I knew very little about anything.

Heather was in her second year, she would graduate the following
spring, be presented formally to high society in June, and so I
expected a little more help from my friend than she was giving me.

"Follow the instructions." She smiled at me. "And you mustn't tell
anyone."

"I know, it says that in the note." But I'd told Heather, and she'd
seemed to have expected it, acting hardly surprised when I'd shown the
invitation to her.

I was eighteen, a few months out of the Academy at Neuilly-sur-Seine,
a private girl's school in France. It had been very much like a prison
to me, and this place seemed hardly better. Learning the niceties of
social function was hardly suited to my tastes, especially in light of
the seemingly draconian standards of discipline imposed by my
teachers.

"Come here now, don't frown that way." Heather pulled me close, so
that I would sit with her at the vanity. "You're so beautiful,
Veronique, you must never frown. It makes me sad."

I rolled my eyes.

I knew Heather liked me, perhaps even loved me, but her affections
were unrewarded. I had no interest in her, or in any woman. I reserved
such thoughts for boys, young men who were handsome and strong. That I
didn't actually know of any personally hardly mattered. I would soon
enough and I was trying to be patient. So many of the other girls
here, and in the other schools I'd attended, had given up on patience
and agreed to Sapphic expression of their adolescent yearnings.

It wasn't looked down upon, so long as such affairs were discrete and
private. We were all attractive, and elite in the sense that our
families were wealthy and prominent. A school such as Buchanan did not
accept applications; it issued invitations to young women who were
noted carefully for their beauty, charm, and potential. To be chosen
for the privilege of attending such a place was a very real honor in
our social circles.

An honor I might have done without if it had meant one date with a
real gentleman. One kiss...One touch, just there between my wide spread...

"I'll die a virgin." I thought aloud, bringing a soft and rather
unlady-like giggle from Heather's pouting lips.

She brushed my long blonde hair gently, pressing her hands to my head
and singing softly from an Italian Opera, Mozart's Idomoneo, I think.

"I hardly think so." Heather said softly. "You're so very beautiful."

"And so will you." I laughed, teasing her because Heather was very
much my equal in every way.

"I'm not a virgin." She said, bringing her lips close to my ear.

"Another girl hardly counts, Heather." I sighed.

"Not only a girl." She lifted her face away, turning her head to look
at me in the mirror. "I've been with many men."

"Liar." I giggled.

Heather shrugged and kissed me on the cheek. "You'll see."

Sometime later, after we'd sat in silence, as we often did in comfort
and without complaint, Heather asked me, "Would you like me to sleep
with you tonight, Veronique?"

"No, thank you." I smiled back at her.

It was a question she'd asked me every night since my arrival at the
school, and my answer was ever the same.

I'd had thoughts of asking Heather what she meant about being with
men, but I grew tired of Heather and her games. She couldn't have
slept with any man, except perhaps during those brief vacations we
were allowed to return to our families. I'd had little enough
opportunities during my own visits home, so I liked to imagine that
all of us must be equally frustrated in our sexual ambitions.

I looked at myself, noting my tall and lithe form, my firm upturned
breasts and rounded hips. I was beautiful, in my body and face. My
cobalt eyes were intelligent and bright, even demure if I smiled just
so, turned them downward slightly. I could be coquettish, or
statuesque, or haughty upon my whim. And I practiced every night
before my mirror, anticipating the situations and circumstances to
come, anticipating my future, for there was nothing else for me to do.

Life was utterly boring.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The lodge was old and very large, constructed of quarried stone and
ancient timber, and resting on the shores of the Hudson River. I crept
towards it in the darkness, as my note had instructed, finding myself
alone and cold in the autumn air. There were no sounds, and no lights;
the building was shuttered and silent, but it seemed as if there was a
presence within. Some low sense filled me that it was not empty and I
felt the instinctual fear that comes with confronting the unknown.

It was a good feeling, and welcome, to a woman who had spent 18 years
following every instruction, every rule. And now I was breaking one
rule to follow another. I should have been safely in my room, of
course, and if I were found out I'd be harshly disciplined, but the
note was compelling in its mystery and I yearned for something of that
character.

Near the lodge stood the boathouse and inside were lockers, a great
many of them of all sizes for all manner of equipment. Sails and ropes
and life jackets and such. I was to find locker 16 and as I approached
I saw dim shapes, shadows of inhuman creatures moving against the
moonlit river behind them. I shivered slightly and took a breath. Fear
was an alien sensation and I quite enjoyed the newness of it, the
struggle to refrain from running back to my dormitory.

The shadows disappeared and I found my locker. I was to undress
completely, everything including my shoes and socks and even my
underwear, and I would dress in whatever I found there.

It was dark, of course, but the moon was full and it cast a silvery
light through the windows. My eyes were wide and dilated and I was
able to do as I was instructed. I undressed quickly, after a bare
moment's hesitation, wishing to minimize my exposure. The thought of
being caught, being seen vulnerable in such a place, so late at night,
it distressed me greatly.

The clothes I found were hardly clothes at all, but something far more
luxurious, and disconcerting as well. It was a suit, a bodysuit I
should say, but like nothing I'd ever heard of. The color was
impossible to discern, perhaps merely black as it appeared, I thought,
but the texture...It was mink possibly, or sable. I'd enjoyed such
comforts before, but this was superfluity beyond compare.

It had a fine closure, a delicate seeming zipper along the side, from
the hips to the armpit. I pulled the fur with my fingers, working my
feet and legs inside one at a time, so that the suit covered me from
the waist down. The soles were padded, but softly, so that it was very
much like walking on thin rubber. The crotch, I discovered, had a
clever opening, the fur parting to expose my sex and anus, but only
secretly, only if one knew how to pierce the layered fur. And just
beyond that, near the small of my back, an elaborate tail fell low. It
was thick and soft and just rigid enough so that it would sway back
and forth in concert with the motion of my hips.

It required no small amount of dexterity to fully enter the suit, and
it was tight on me, like a second skin. I worked my head inside and up
and finally my arms, finding the garment to fit me as if it had been
tailored for only me. The fur covered every part of me now, except my
head, hands, and the soles of my feet. It was thick and supple and an
extravagance beyond anything I'd ever dreamt of.

I stroked my body, my firm full breasts pressed outward and covered
with warm thick fur. The inner skin, that part of the furry suit
against my flesh, was a joy as well. It was soft and buttery, giving
me the sensation of being bathed with some exotic oil which was
neither dry nor wet, but something else altogether. My nipples grew
hard immediately beneath it, and my taut belly quivered with
excitement. I played my hands along my flanks, exploring the curvature
of my ass and the deftly rounded shape of my hips.

And everywhere I touched myself I was greeted with the sensations of
feeling that beautiful fur beneath my fingers, and likewise the soft
and exotic synesthesia of pleasure in my flesh. The fur was a part of
me now and I felt myself warming inside, as if intoxicated by the
experience. I felt very much like a female Narcissus, caught upon her
reflection and I might have stayed like that forever, but for the
instructions in my note.

There were gloves as well, made of the same fine fur and wonderfully
constructed so that they were seamless to my eyes and fingers. The
palms and a small portion at the bottom of each finger and thumb were
the only parts not furred, but instead covered with a dark gauze of
some unknown material that hindered my tactile senses not at all. I
put on the gloves, which rose above and fitted seamlessly to the
sleeves of my suit, and no part of my skin was to be seen below my
neck.

And I could feel my fur still, through those magical gloves, and I
giggled softly with delight. Whatever the gauzy material was, it was
perfectly suited to bringing my senses pleasure. I held my hands to my
face, blowing gently against my palms and I felt the air move, the
humidity of my warm breath.

The mask was the final item, and I examined it carefully, for it
seemed very much to be that of an animal. A weasel was my first
impression, or a mouse perhaps, but finally I realized I must have
been looking at a sable. It was hardly frightening in any event, and
utterly beautiful, with the same black fur across the head and neck.
It had soft ears, not so long, but tapering and upright and speckled
with white. The face itself was of leather I thought, bit thin and
carefully worked by a master craftsman. It was the finest leather
imaginable and decorated with long whiskers and jeweled eyes. There
was a nose, a sable's snout with carefully sculpted lips and teeth,
immaculate in every detail to the best of my understanding. It was
comfortable and through it fresh air traveled easily.

It was warm, that mask, but eminently agreeable and the night took on
a slightly golden hue as I looked around through those animal eyes. I
was no longer a girl, not a young woman of social wealth and prestige.
I was something else, something primal and base, natural and beautiful
and it was visceral instinctive knowledge that resided in my blood.
Veronique was gone, her flesh turned to fur and her desires loosed for
the first time in her life. I was changed somehow, and free, that was
my understanding then. Inside that costume, that new skin I wore, I
was free of my human restraints, of my morals and virtues and
obligations.

It was a glorious confusion and I knew what to do next, my final task
of the evening was to enter the lodge.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

There was a great room in the center, marked by huge windows on one
wall that would have overlooked the river but for the heavy drapes
that covered them, so that it resembled a single marvelous curtain of
burgundy velvet. At opposite ends were giant and ornate fireplaces,
unused and dark, their cast iron grates and shutters closed. The
remaining wall was plain but for the doorway through which I entered,
and to either side of my entrance hung photos and trophies of regattas
long past, pennants and flags and other meaningless mementos.

My eyes were drawn to none of this, but rather to the scene before me,
lit by crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling above. Dozens
of figures, accoutered in much the manner as I was, writhing in a mass
upon the elaborate druggets which covered the hardwood floor. They
were animals, creatures wild and tame, and engaged in such debauchery
as I'd never imagined. Snowy furred rabbits, and long grey wolves, a
silver fox caught my eye, and its twin, but garbed in scarlet.
Lithesome ferrets and tawny kittens, and I myself a jet black sable
gleaming and awestruck, watching with my nipples burning and my sex
clasping angrily upon the emptiness within my womb.

It was a menagerie to excite the most jaded observer, an adoration of
nature, I thought. A sexual feast to worship of our animistic origins
and primitive desires. My heart was beating hard and rushing blood
through my veins. My stomach was taut and vague cramp-like sensations
drew my flesh tightly to my bones. I was drunk it seemed, or dreaming
perhaps, the sounds of them filled my ears. No human voices, not a
one, but only the low grunts and urgent moans of their desperate
rutting filled my ears.

And the smell. It assaulted me and I drew deep the incense of their
sex. I could smell them all, their cocks and cunts, joined or wanted,
rising into the tropical air like a mirage, shimmering before my eyes.
It was warm in that room, humid as an Asiatic jungle, and the cold
night was shut away from us, the world beyond cast off and forgotten
like our skin.

I joined them willingly, slipping to my hands and knees, moving as an
animal would. I was lifting my head to sniff the air, to listen and
taste and breathe that pungent aroma. I was soon drawn into the center
of that pagan orgy, invited by a dozen hands caressing and pulling at
me, pushing so that no part of me was left unattended.

I groaned to feel bodies against mine, a pearl ram with wondrously
curved horns stroked my body, and his fur covered hands moving across
my ribs and shoulders. I turned my head to see his penis, that one
part of him left unsheathed by necessity alone. It was stiff and damp
with excitement, the ruddy tip leaking as it brushed across my hip.

I gave him no protest, uttered no sound from my human tongue when he
mounted me. I shuddered and moaned as his cock split my furry lips,
and quickly the soft petals of my virginity hiding within. I yelped
loudly and pushed myself eagerly upon him, reveling in the pain and
pleasure of losing my virginity at last. My hymen was torn and I
dropped my head, growling and breathing cool air into my burning
lungs.

There was little pain, nothing like I might have expected given the
stories and rumors I'd heard. This was the reality of it, my sex born
for this moment. I was not taken, I gave myself to him, to that
beautiful ram who would forever more remain my first lover among many.

He was mating with me, fucking his cock inside me harder as my ardent
sex adjusted itself to accommodate him. I felt the spasms of my climax
and I found myself over the body of another, a beautiful mouse on her
back, being taken by a handsome boar. I stroked her soft fur and
muzzled her swollen breasts even as I lost all sensibility to my
orgasm.

The ram was cumming as well, deep inside me and I welcomed it, pushing
myself against him and rolling my hips, rocking myself upon that
thrusting, cumming prick deep in my womb. I was tortured with the
pleasure of my first mating and the discomfort of my lost virginity
was useless to me as anything but proof of my completion, the
fulfillment of my youth. He continued to fill me, enjoying the throat
of my sex contracting around his cock, swallowing his cum until at
least he withdrew slowly.

I reached behind me, desiring to see for myself the blood of my virgin
sacrifice as it were, my innocence taking flight on crimson wings and
I rubbed my sex gently. There, on the short hair of my fingers I could
see it. Blood and the milky remains of my first union. I was thrilled
with it and brushed my fingers across my snout as if I would taste it
and I breathed deep the musk of my lover's tainted semen.

And only moments after the ram withdrew from my hungry sex another
took his place, a golden stag who covered my back with his soft chest.
He forced me down, to lie on the floor, his legs astride my supine
form as he pushed his penis inside the ready and well filled hole
between my furry thighs. He didn't conspire to speak, not even to
whisper meaningless words of love, he merely grunted and gasped, his
bestial voice joining mine, and ours in concert with everyone
present.

I writhed beneath him, trapped and impaled and my orgasms stole
through me one after another. His cock was large, reaching deeper than
the ram before him, and I shuddered to feel his cockhead nudge the
bottom of my sex. I lifted my hips, fucking myself up and upon him, so
that we were moving together. And not just my new lover and I, but all
of us, fucking and moving as if in a cleverly crafted choreography.
Nothing was static and none of us stationary.

And the stag turned me over finally, with help from a coarse brown
bear whose cock was thick and heavy and dark with desire for me. He
straddled my stomach while I lifted my long legs over the Stag's
shoulders, so that he could fuck me deeply. The bear's cock fell
between my heaving breasts and I pushed them together, moaning as he
began working his penis back and forth, fucking the soft furred valley
between my tits.

When the bear came I was watching it, staring at that smooth round
head as it spilled his ejaculate over my neck and face, and between my
breasts as he withdrew, continuing to fuck me eagerly. My fur was
matted and wet and greasy with sperm and a sexy mink appeared, her
hands washing the creamy spend into my glistening black hide. She
nuzzled my tits and the cock still between them, as if lapping the sex
from my languid form, and I saw that she was being fucked by one of
the wolves, his long red tongue lolling from fixed and open jaws full
of teeth.

So it was that I was pushed and pulled this way and that. The beast
fucking me removed himself without orgasm, replaced by another, a
tiger in tan and black. I was soon rolled onto my side as he wanted to
fuck my tender pussy from behind, and I found myself embracing a skunk
who was being taken likewise from behind by a brazen hare, so that the
four of us were together it seemed.

We pressed our faces together, the lovely skunk and myself, our arms
clutching and petting in our embrace, while our lovers of the moment
fucked us together. My damp breasts pressed against hers, my nipples
aching and sore from the constant attention, the endless arousal I was
in.

The skunk's grunts and moans fueled the fire in my lungs and I
breathed my own back into her. Her fur was black and white and so soft
beneath my hands that I might only have imagined her. She seemed
perfect, as if an illusion my heart had conjured, and I orgasmed hard
around the cock inside me while I stared into her onyx eyes.

Another took me, and another. My sex was wet and filled with sperm and
it ran down my furry thighs, matting my hair and the scent of my
arousal and recent fucking was mixed with that of two dozen others. I
felt the sex of another female, a squirrel with a thick soft tail. She
was soaked and creamy inside and I pushed three fingers inside her so
that I could feel the cock fucking her ass through the soft walls of
her cunt. I could feel her muscles pulling at me, inviting me deeper
and she whined softly, weeping it seemed with a deep ecstasy when I
began thrusting my fingers into her quickly, keeping them stiff and
hard. I felt her pussy quivering as she came in my hand.

And there was a bronzed lion behind me, his cock in my pussy at first,
but soon he pulled free, seeking a much tighter and virginal coupling
to sate his hunger. I yelped and scampered on my hands and knees,
attempting only half-heartedly to escape his throbbing prick. It was
playful and amusing and I groaned happily upon being caught. I gasped
as his cock entered my once chaste and now despoiled rectum.

He was large and generous, treating me kindly at first with a slow
penetration that made me shiver uncontrollably beneath the blunt and
burning pain. I ignored that discomfort as best I could, concentrating
instead on memorizing that experience as I wanted to remember it
forever, as much as I wanted to be able recall of this incredible
evening.

He fucked me gently, stroking my flanks and purring softly in my ears.
There were no words spoken, none whatsoever, the sounds we made were
quite enough. Every emotion and thought was implied by our physical
response to pleasure and pain, and readily understood. He plainly
enjoyed my ass, the tightness there, the heat and the resistance of my
body as it yielded to him only reluctantly. I nodded and arched my
back, mewling and whimpering and then howling softly as I felt fingers
on my clitoris, hands upon my breasts as they hung heavy beneath me.

I was pulled back onto the lion's chest, with him on his back and my
legs spread, inviting a cream colored stallion to enter my cunt. I was
between them, my lion and my stud, sandwiched and breathless, two
cocks working in and out of me in urgent tandem, driving me mad with
the lusty sensations.

My body was stuffed and my overfull cunt spilled the rich ichor of my
previous unions, the fluid squeezed out around the cock inside me. It
ran down to meet the cock in my ass, adding that small lubrication to
the lion's rapid thrusts. I moaned long and low, howling as another
orgasm swept though me and I could feel those two as one, moving
together, filling me so completely that I should ever after hunger for
it in my dreams.

When the lion came, roaring his approval and filling my bruised and
fiery ass with his cum, he held himself deep for a long moment and
then released me. The stallion rolled over then, pulling me atop him
and another male took the lion's place. I was entered easily this
second time, and I fucked the two of them harder than I'd been able or
willing to do previously. I was being well and truly fucked and the
time passing was at once briefly transient and seemingly eternal, but
all too soon ended.

The celebration lasted until the first dim glow of the approaching
dawn lit the far hills. I made my way out, following the examples of
the others, slipping reluctantly away as I felt it necessary, and back
into the boathouse. I was sore and tender and my cunt and ass were
filled with the remains of a dozen lovers, more than that, two dozen
at least. I'd been taken by some of them only once, and by others
twice, and even three times, as they recognized in me something they
especially enjoyed.

I changed quickly, replacing my costume and kissing the mask as I laid
it carefully aside. I dressed slowly, feeling that part of me going
away, leaving me. I wasn't an animal, not a sable at all, but a young
woman of privilege and social responsibility.

I closed my eyes to it, closed the locker on that beautiful costume,
those precious furs I'd worn so well. And how well they had worn me, I
sighed. The wetness inside me, on my thighs, that was the only proof
that I'd been there at all, and I would soon wash it away. I was
saddened by that, greatly and I feared it incurably as I made my
cautious way back to my dorm, sneaking as a thief into my room.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I'd seen no one's face, and none of the others had seen mine. I didn't
know who had been there with me and who had not. Who those men were I
had no idea at all. They had seemed young, some of them, but I had no
experience at all. Some of them could have been older. It was a grand
mystery, a wonderful dream, and I spent the day remembering and
smiling and earning the enmity of my teachers for my lack of
attention.

And I would look around at the girls attending my classes, sitting
close by. Some of them were smiling, others fidgeting, and some
glancing around themselves, flushed and smiling secretly, just as I
was. Had they been there, I wondered, did they know? Had I pushed my
fingers in that girl's freshly fucked cunt, or fingered that girl's
beautifully stretched and well fucked ass? And which of them had
played with me? One of those girls had pressed three fingers into my
ass, digging for the fresh cum inside. One of them surely had tugged
at my nipples and made me moan for her pleasure, which one was it?

I could never know and that was a very clever trick indeed.

I didn't speak of it with Heather, but I understood what she'd tried
to explain to me the night I'd received my invitation. She'd been
there, where I'd been, perhaps in my own costume, for it wasn't truly
mine at all. Heather had enjoyed it, just as I had, and perhaps all of
the girls shared that experience at one time or another, drawn forth
during their freshman year in groups of twelve or so, to lose their
virginity, to be taught a lesson beyond anything we could learn in the
classroom.

It would hardly seem unreasonable given my own experience, although
the implications were rather dramatic. But no less so than the event
itself, I supposed.

"Would you like me to sleep with you tonight, Veronique?" Heather
asked, holding my brush in her lap and stroking my soft blonde hair
with her fingers. "You must be very tired."

I turned to look into her soft brown eyes and I smiled, nodding my
head slowly.

"Yes, Heather." I whispered gently. "I'd like that very much."