Chanteuse

Part 1

Written by Athene

Copyright © 2002 by Athene, all rights reserved. Reproduction and distribution of this work by any means without the expressed written permission of the author, or hotlinking from another website without the expressed written permission of the author and BondoFox, is expressly forbidden. Similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Author's Disclaimer: This story depicts acts of nonconsensual sex between adult creatures who are not human. I repeat, THEY ARE OVER 18. And you should be as well before even thinking of reading this. This story is secured under copyright (© 2002 by AtheneWdr @aol.com); any reproduction requires that you keep my attribution on it. Karma is an ugly thing. So, read and enjoy. If this type of material offends you, stop reading now.

The previous owners had named the bar the Blue Owl, for some obscure reason, and the current owners had seen fit to leave the name as it was. It resided on a side alley off one of the city’s innumerable side streets, down several steps into the basement of an apartment building that doubled as an occasional brothel. After all, a working girl had to ply her trade somewhere, because doing it in the street (or in a side alley) was bound to attract unwanted attention from the gendarmerie.

The lighting in the bar was always very dim, and the pervasive haze of stale cigarette smoke didn’t improve the visibility one bit. Two small, bright islands shone through the fog of thin, grayish-blue smoke; the two lamps on either side of the great mirror over the bar, and the spotlight that cast a halo over her when she took the stage. “Atmosphere,” some people called it, and while they sat and smoked, they would drink and listen to her.

Her name was Violette, and she was the bar’s singer. Truth to tell, she was the only woman in the bar who actually had a decent singing voice. The other women were barmaids and prostitutes, looking for tips or a brief tumble with a visiting soldier to brighten his leave and lighten his pockets. In Paris in the fourth year of the Occupation, one found money where one could.

The bar was crowded this night, being a Friday night with a brilliant full moon and the night air clear and mild. The tables were ringed with a variety of furs in the field-gray of the Wehrmacht, with a very occasional sprinkling of black SS uniforms. Armand, the owner of the bar and the master of ceremonies, stepped onto the stage as the band finished playing a jaunty jazz dance number for the feline stripper. As her tail whisked behind the curtain he waved for silence. “Mesdames, messieurs, meine Damen und Herren,” the emaciated-looking weasel said into the suspension microphone, “welcome one and all to the Blue Owl!”Applause started, along with a few whistles and catcalls from two disreputable-looking Alsatians in rumpled Luftwaffe blue. From the look of them, their tongues lolling and their ears back, the pair had been hitting the wine quite heavily.

Armand grinned, his tobacco-stained teeth gleaming dully as he grasped the microphone stand in a brown-furred paw. “I hope you have enjoyed yourselves,” he said, “because I want to introduce to you our featured singer. Let me hear your paws clapping for – Violette!”And he backed away from the microphone with a theatrical flourish, applauding as cheers greeted her entrance from behind a curtain at the back of the stage.

Violette strode onto the stage with a saucy grin and a slight sway to her hips that brought a roar of lusty male approval. She was short, perhaps five feet two without her ubiquitous two-inch spike heels, and the long swing of her naked mouse’s tail merely accentuated the almost mesmerizing movement of her rear. She wore an ankle-length gown of black satin that contrasted well with her light gray fur, with her trademark violet scarf worn as an improvised belt. Her fur shaded into a creamy white on her throat and down her front, disappearing between two full, round breasts that strained against her gown’s confines. She deliberately did not wear a bandeau, and scattered coarse compliments in French and German came to her cuplike ears as her breasts bobbed with her steps, the nipples poking at the fabric.

She came up to the microphone stand and pressed her body to it, running one thin-fingered paw up it as if she were stroking a lover’s back. She knew what this crowd wanted, and she sang it well. At her wink, the bandleader waved his baton and the six musicians started to play Lili Marlene.

The song spoke to deep places in the heart, of love and loneliness and the brevity of wartime trysts, and she knew it by heart in both French and German. She sang it in German for the benefit of those in the crowd who didn’t speak the language of the conquered. She sang in a graceful, throaty alto that seemed to caress the lyrics, and the Germans in the audience began to sing along:

Vor der Kaserne

Vor dem großen Tor

Stand eine Laterne

Und steht sie noch davor

So woll'n wir uns da wieder seh'n

Bei der Laterne wollen wir steh'n

Wie einst Lili Marlene,

Wie einst Lili Marlene.”

As Violette sang, a chorus of hoarse male voices followed her, supporting her effort as, one by one, the heavier drinkers started to sway in time to the music. Glasses clinked, and waiters circulated to top off glasses and take new drink orders. She leaned into the microphone, eyes closing partway as one paw stroked it, and her large incisors poised over the prop almost as it she were going to attempt kissing or fellating it. Her tail waved, and the music stopped suddenly, leaving only her voice to croon the final verse, all ears focused on her:

"From my quiet existence,

And from this earthly pale,

Like a dream you free me,

With your lips so hale.

When the night mists swirl and churn,

Then to that lantern I'll return,

As once Lili Marlene,

As once Lili Marlene."

She drew out the last note, and then rested her forehead against the microphone as the crowd leaped to their collective feet, applauding and cheering loudly. Violette stepped back, smiling and gesturing to the band to take their share of the applause. As she bowed, she looked out into the audience.

One face stood out from the crowd, right at the front of the stage. She was a canine, a Shepherd by the look of her, her fur well brushed and glossy black and brown. She wore the uniform of the Allgemeine-SS, the bit of the elite troops that served alongside the German Army. Her deep brown eyes gleamed wetly, and she had been eyeing Violette hungrily throughout the song. As Violette’s gaze met hers, the woman suddenly blew her a kiss, then looked nervously at the two husky males flanking her.

Violette smiled and winked back at her, and the band changed the mood a bit, playing a song that was suggestive and more suited to the thick scent of lust that now battled the omnipresent stink of stale tobacco and spilled liquor. Again, she leaned into her microphone, treating it like a lover as the soldiers and civilians in the audience howled and stamped their feet. After two more songs, she pleaded for a break and stepped away from the stage. The band continued to play as she slipped through the curtain.

“Violette?” Armand said as the crowd noise and music receded and she sagged onto a chair. She sipped at a glass of water, and when she looked up at him he made a nervous gesture to his right. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said in a subdued, quiet voice, “but you have an admirer who wants to talk to you.”His tone made her sit up straight, since Armand was hardly ever quiet. He retreated as the curtain rustled and the canine she had made eye contact with stepped in.

Violette leaned forward, her free paw reaching down to massage her right calf. After looking at the rank flash on her shoulder she asked, “What can I do for you tonight, Corporal?I’m afraid I don’t give autographs,” she added with an impish smile.

The woman’s ears lowered, and she scuffed at the floor nervously. She was about three inches taller than Violette, and wore plain black leather shoes, low-heeled. While her tunic was fairly similar to the usual uniform, she wore a severely cut skirt that fell just below her knees. “I … I have a question, Madame,” she said softly in accented but passable French. Her bushy tail waved under the hem of her skirt.

Violette’s ears perked up, angling forward slightly. “And what might your question be?” she asked warily, her gaze now slowly starting to size up the larger woman. She sat up straight, ignoring the soft throbbing of her calf muscles for the moment.

“Um, ach …” Amazed, she watched as the canine dithered for a moment, then said softly, “I was … wondering if you were doing anything after …” She fell silent, letting her voice trail off.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow, short whiskers working as she sniffed at her. “Are you asking for your friends at your table?” she asked in a low tone. “Or for yourself?”

The German stiffened at the implication that she was a pander. She then lowered her gaze as the exposed skin inside her ears blushed. “For me, Madame,” she replied, staring down at her shoes. Violette smiled and stood up, a plan forming in her mind to match the woman’s soft tone and her actions. She stepped up to the other woman and hugged her, feeling the strong muscles under the uniform tense up, then relax as she breathed into the Shepherd’s ear, “I have two more songs to sing. Meet me outside afterwards.”As she stepped back from the hug, she asked, “What is your name, my dear?”

“Luise, Madame,” the canine replied, smiling bashfully. She had a beautiful smile. Violette gave her a brief peck on her cheek, then straightened up and smoothed out her dress. Taking another sip of her water, she threw the curtains aside as the music flourished.

Her last two songs were slow, weepy love songs that had been specifically requested by several of the working girls. They wanted their prospective customers to feel the tug on their hearts and be all the more willing to part with their marks. Couples were leaving the bar even before she finished the first song. The bartender shouted for last call, and the band started to play her final song.

She sang this one in a low, sultry tone, leaning into the microphone stand as the audience sat and listened raptly. Luise, still seated in the front, stared up at her and Violette detected a gleam in her brown eyes that was little short of adoration. She sighed inwardly as she continued to sing. Finally the last song was over, and she bowed with her usual dazzling smile, and only allowed her actual bone-weariness to show when she got safely behind the curtain. “My God,” she breathed,"another night over".

Armand put an arm around her waist and gave her a soft squeeze. “You did beautifully, Violette, you always do,” he said in his usual loud tone. “Tell me, are you going to come and sing for me tonight?Or are you -?” his voice trailed off significantly, and she gently disentangled herself from his grasp. “Yes, Armand,” she said. “I’m going to my apartment with her.”At his look of concern, she smiled and patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” she said.

“I hope you mean that,” he replied, his fur bristling slightly as she went to her dressing room.

Several minutes later she slipped out the back door of the bar, dressed in a brown wool coat and matching hat. Sure enough, her newfound friend was waiting for her, nervously smoking a cigarette. Luise threw the still-burning smoke away and straightened up from the wall she had been leaning against. “I waited,” she said, a tiny defensive note in her voice.

“I’m glad,” Violette said with a smile, taking the taller woman by the arm. “Come with me to my apartment,” she said. “It’s only a few blocks from here.”Luise looked ill at ease at being arm-in-arm with another woman, but as they walked she seemed to relax. Maybe it was the drinks she’d had, Violette reflected, that were making her so bold.

Her fifth-floor apartment was a small one: combination dining and kitchen area, one bedroom, living room, and a bathroom. She unlocked the door and reached in, turning on the lights with a practiced twist of the switch. “Please, come on in,” she said as Luise hesitated on the doorstep. She finally entered, and as Violette closed the door she thought she caught the disapproving glare of one of her neighbors. With a shrug she locked the door and removed her hat, her ears shaking out as she asked, “Can I get you something to drink, Luise?”

“No, no thank you. I had far too much wine at the bar,” came the reply as Luise looked around. The apartment’s walls were covered in wallpaper, tinted over the years to a sickly brownish-yellow; old magazines and a few newspapers littered the table in the living room. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to pick up the place,” Violette said as she hung up her coat. She went over to the canine and took her hand, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “Come,” she whispered, “let me take you to the bedroom.”

She allowed the mouse to lead her into the bedroom, and stood looking around as Violette made sure that the blackout curtains were firmly in place. The bed took up a lot of the space in the small room, along with two dressers and an armoire. “Now then,” Violette said, turning to the canine, “where shall we start?”She snapped her fingers and smiled brightly. “I know. Let me undress you, Luise. Come here.”

Luise stepped over to her and Violette unbuttoned her uniform tunic, placing it on a hanger then putting her paws on the canine’s breasts, stroking their contours gently. Luise stiffened, her muzzle opening partway as her eyes closed, and Violette could feel her nipples swell through her brassiere. Her shirt came off swiftly, followed by her skirt, leaving Luise dressed in her shoes, stockings and underwear.

Violette pressed herself to the canine, paws running slowly through her thick fur. “Shall I continue?” she breathed into one ear.

“P-please, Madame,” Luise answered, her breathing growing deeper, faster. Violette smiled, reached behind her back and unclasped the brassiere, then filled her paws with her breasts, bending slightly to run her tongue over the nipples, circling them as they poked through her fur. She felt paws come to rest on her head, gently pressing, urging her on, and she filled her mouth with as much of the shepherd’s lush breast as she could and started to suckle. Violette could feel her moan well up from deep in her chest, and she lifted her head, smiling as she turned around. “Unzip me?” she asked, turning her back to her newfound lover.

She removed her violet scarf from her waist as Luise unclasped the top of the dress and unzipped it; Violette stepped out of the fabric as it slid to the floor, then gathered it up and draped it over one of the dressers. She turned back to Luise, and the two suddenly giggled like schoolgirls as they completed stripping off their clothes.

Once she was in her fur, Violette stepped close to Luise and kissed her, their muzzles meeting tenderly, then with increasing firmness and a mounting hunger. With a soft moan Luise’s muzzle opened and her tongue traced Violette’s lips and teeth. The mouse reciprocated, claws sliding through the canine’s fur along her spine to tease the base of her tail.

She felt herself lifted, carried to the bed in strongly muscled arms and placed gently on the mattress. Violette looked up as Luise straddled her on her paws and knees, gazing down at her before nuzzling along her rodentine muzzle, then down the side of her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin. She brought her paws up and caressed Luise’s head and ears as she nipped and nuzzled her way to her breasts. “Oh, yes,” Violette gasped as she felt the Shepherd’s teeth close briefly over her right nipple, then she moaned as her breasts were gently kneaded by strong paws and the teeth were replaced by a wide, soft tongue. She stroked the canine’s headfur and grasped her ears gently. “Lower,” she whispered, urging her downward.

Luise complied, licking and occasionally nipping at Violette’s belly as she moved down the mouse’s body, paws stroking her inner thighs as her knees lifted and her legs spread. Violette felt warm breath seeping through the fur on her mons, and her back arched as the breath was replaced by a hot, wet tongue. “Oh, oh my Luise,” she gasped softly. “Yes, right there.”

The canine slowly and carefully spread the mouse’s nether lips, pausing to look at the pale pink flesh, gleaming wetly as Violette squirmed on the bed. She pressed her muzzle toward the wet slot, her tongue taking broad, slow swipes up and down the opening as two fingers held her open and her thumb circled the small hooded nub of Violette’s clit. The mouse’s ass lifted off the bed, offering herself to Luise, who accepted the gift, licking deeper, thrusting into the musky depths with her tongue and moaning quietly at the taste.

As Luise started licking deeper still, thrusting her tongue in and out as her fingers stroked her labia and clit, Violette squirmed and dug her fingers deeper into the canine’s headfur, urging her on and moaning as her juices flowed, matting down the fur on the Shepherd’s muzzle. Luise’s paws scooped under Violette’s rear, lifting her hips up to her muzzle and that long, ribbonlike tongue, squeezing and kneading the flesh of her ass as Violette squirmed, paws clawing at the bedclothes as she moaned, “Yes, yes, there … I’m … I’m almost … yes!” she cried as her body tensed, then trembled with the force of her orgasm. She was lowered to the bed and Luise moved up to embrace her, snuggling close and kissing her. Violette licked and kissed at her lover’s muzzle, tasting herself.

She hugged Luise, holding onto her as the edge of her orgasm finally dulled and abated, kissing her. Her muzzle caressed one black-furred, pointed ear as she whispered, “My turn now, my lovely Luise.”The Shepherd obliged, smiling as she spread her legs for the mouse who knelt between her thighs and nuzzled her mound. As one paw stroked her, Violette remarked huskily, “You do that so well, my dear … where did you learn?”

Luise’s deep brown eyes opened and she said softly, “At – at school.”

A finger ran up and down the edges of her labia, and Violette giggled. “What kind of school?” she asked.

The canine arched and shivered at the stroking motions, hips rolling to encourage Violette to touch the right places as her sex moistened. “I … ohhh … went to Catholic school … in … in Freiburg … ohh, right there, there please Violette …”

“Really? Catholic school,” and a kiss was tenderly placed on Luise’s lower lips, along with a teasing flicker of a tongue that briefly spread her labia, coaxing them to open. “I’m sure the sisters never approved of this,” she said softly.

Luise shook her head, her paws clenching, grabbing at open air. “No … no, Madame, they didn’t,” she whispered, eyes closed and her muzzle parted as she panted, rising toward her orgasm. Violette slid up her lover’s body, pressing her right thigh against Luise’s sex. “They punished you for that … for those quiet midnight trysts with the other girls, didn’t they?” she asked, rubbing along the swollen lips of the canine’s vagina, pressing her kneecap against her clit.

Luise shuddered, gasping and crying out as she came; she nodded, even as she hugged the smaller female to her, kissing and nuzzling her as she regained her breath. Violette smiled, and whispered in her ear, “Luise … I should punish you, like they did.”

The Shepherd’s eyes blinked open and she stared at the mouse, and the gleam in her glassy eyes was enough to convince Violette. She gently disentangled herself from Luise and said in a lighthearted tone, “Roll over, girl. On your belly.”

To her surprise, Luise didn’t protest; she rolled over and very obligingly stuck her rump up in the air, tail waving over her buttocks like a flag. Violette buried her blunt muzzle between the fleshy globes, lapping at her lover’s oozing sex as Luise whimpered. She held the canine’s fluffy tail out of the way, licking deeper and moaning at the sweet taste of her lover as the fingers of her free hand slipped between the wet folds to rub at Luise’s clit.

Violette pulled away as Luise shook with a climax, her muzzle buried in the sheets to stifle her moaning. The mouse circled the canine’s waist with one arm, trapping Luise’s tail under her arm as she began to spank her. Luise squealed and whimpered, squirming on the bed as Violette gave her ten strong smacks on each cheek. Finally, with a last gentle slap at one buttock, Violette said in a soft tone, “I think you should be restrained … mustn’t have you trying to escape your fate.”

It took her a moment to find her clothesline, and a little work with a knife broke the cord into four pieces. She sat on the bed and kissed Luise as she gently tied the canine’s wrists together, then secured them to the bedpost. Luise tugged at the cord, and whimpered as Violette nuzzled and teased one ear with her teeth.

One of the remaining cords wrapped around her waist, securing her fluffy tail; the final two tied Luise’s ankles to opposing corners at the foot of the bed. Violette lay down on her lover, stroking her flanks and nipping at the nape of her neck. “You like this, don’t you,” she whispered, more statement than question as her claws dragged upwards through the fur on Luise’s ass.

A soft, sobbing moan as her lover squirmed on the bed and the smell of her sex, hot, wet and sharp, reached her nose. “Y-yes … ohh, yes, Violette …” she whimpered. The mouse stood, sliding her left paw under Luise’s body. Her middle finger slid into the canine’s wetness while two fingers spread her labia, rubbing in lazy circles. She reached out with her right hand to pick up her cane.

The cane was just a stick, really; it was a slightly bent, worn rattan thing she used to beat the dust from her rugs. She ran it over the Shepherd’s upturned ass and smiled as Luise stiffened, moaning. “Yes, my dear, you’re going to be spanked,” Violette teased. “Now, do be a good girl and be quiet … we don’t want the neighbors listening,” and with that she swung the cane down across Luise’s buttocks.

She started softly, beating a steady tattoo on Luise’s black and brown-furred rear. As she swung the cane she rubbed her left paw in a circular motion, stroking Luise’s erect clit. She started beating her with more authority as the canine whimpered, moaning as she grabbed the pillow in her mouth to muffle her sounds. Finally Violette thrust two fingers deep into Luise’s vagina, her thumb rubbing her clit as she dropped the cane and gave her the open palm of her hand, ten times against her upturned ass.

Luise writhed, tugging at the ropes as her lover remorselessly fingered and spanked her, finally coming with a hoarse, muffled scream into the pillow. She lay there, moaning softly as Violette untied her, then Luise grabbed at the mouse and pulled her into an embrace, sobbing gently as Violette stroked her fur and crooned, “There, there, my love … that was wonderful … you were very brave. Here,” and she offered her wet fingers to Luise’s muzzle, and joined her in licking them clean of the canine’s juices. She reached out with her tail and switched off the light as the two of them drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Traffic noises echoed up to the window of her apartment as Violette’s eyes opened the next morning, and she smiled and snuggled closer to Luise as the canine stirred awake. “Good morning,” the mouse said, kissing her lover’s muzzle tenderly.

Luise smiled dreamily, stroking Violette’s back. “Is it morning already?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. Would you like some breakfast?I don’t have much, but what I have I’ll share with you,” Violette said. Luise shook her head. “No, my love, I have to clean up, then leave. I have to report to my office-" here she glanced at the bedside alarm clock, stolidly ticking away “ – in two hours,” she groaned.

Violette propped herself up on her right elbow, looking down at the larger canine. “Will I see you tonight?” she asked quietly, running a finger over the swell of Luise’s breast, then leaning forward to press her lips to her nipple.

Luise laughed softly, catching Violette’s hand and kissing the fingers. “I can’t,” she murmured, her dark brown eyes darker with regret and longing. “My unit leaves for Belgium this afternoon.”

Violette hugged her, kissing and nipping at her throat. “That’s too bad,” she sighed. “I had a wonderful time, Luise.”

“So did I,” the Shepherd replied, kissing the mouse on the top of her head. “If this war ever ends … will I see you again?”

A wink. “You know exactly where I’ll be,” Violette said.

* * *

Luise took a hurried bath and dressed, then left the apartment. As Violette, dressed in a gauzy floral-pattern bathrobe, waved goodbye she saw one of her neighbors standing at the door to his flat. “Good morning, Monsieur Greuzot,” she said politely.

The ursine smiled as he turned the key to his door and opened it. “Good morning, my dear,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of Luise’s receding form. “Been entertaining again, I see; you know you’ll get into trouble if you do that.”

Violette nodded. The grapevine told of the Resistance’s disapproval of people who collaborated with the Germans. “She was lonely,” she said as she crossed her arms over her breasts defensively. “And so was I, if you want to know.”

A deep chuckle, and Greuzot adjusted his suspenders. “Just don’t let my wife catch you being ‘lonely,’ young Violette,” he said in a soft, conspiratorial tone. “You know what a fearful gossip she is.”With that, he closed his door, and Violette returned to her apartment. She looked out the window in time to see Luise walking around a corner, passing out of sight. The sight of her in her uniform brought the previous night’s memories to the surface, and Violette found her heart aching to see her again.

She took a bath, dressed and left the apartment, wearing a shapeless brown dress under her coat, low-quarter shoes and a floppy hat. It was a bright morning, and she shouldered her purse and started walking. She reached the Seine after an hours’ walk, and crossed the bridge that led to the cathedral.

Notre-Dame loomed over her, a collage of grays and shadows in the morning sun, and she walked into the sanctuary, pausing to kneel and cross herself. She walked up the aisle and took a seat in a pew at the front of the church, looking up from time to time at the crucifix over the high altar.

The Lion of God looked down at her, the expert skill of the carver evident in the look of patient suffering on His face, paws curled around the nails in His palms. Violette shivered, like a small child caught in some infraction. A voice cut through her reverie, and she jumped slightly.

“Good morning, my child. Are you here for confession?” the voice said, and she turned to see a cat in an abbe’s robes smiling down at her.

“Yes, Father,” she said, smiling. “I walked all the way from Chartres to confess.”

His smile faltered, and faded. His eyes hardened, looking down at her, then he recovered himself and smiled again. Offering her his paw he said, “Come, let me hear your confession, daughter.”She stood, and he led her into a booth.

The shutter opened and he kissed a slim silk stole, then draped it over his shoulders as Violette said quietly, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“God forgives all sins, child. I am listening.”

“I slept with a woman last night, Father. A German woman.”

No visible sign of reaction from the feline behind the screen. “Go on, my child.”

Violette clasped her paws together, looking down at her interlaced fingers. “I would have brought her here to confess as well, but she and her unit leave for Belgium this afternoon. That’s all, Father.”

A pause. “You have done well to confess, daughter. Your penance will be to say the Hail Mary three times.” A shadow fell over the screen; the feline abbe’s paw making the sign of the cross. “I absolve you, my child. Go, and sin no more, and may God bless you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Violette whispered before leaving the confessional. She knew that the information she had relayed would eventually get to the ones in a better position than she to do something about it. Anything to get the Germans out of France.

But still, Luise …She paused before a statue of Mary, and lit a votive candle for Luise, kneeling and looking up at the Lioness before praying that, despite the war and despite the fact that she was an enemy, Luise would come home safe.

As she left the cathedral, she paused on the bridge, looking out over the river, and caught herself humming Lili Marleen. After a few moments, she straightened and walked off to do her shopping for the day. She needed to rest as well, because she had to sing again that night.