Senjian snarled. Wishbone seized his mane, leaned forward and blocked his breath with a mouthful of cock. He watched the muscles tighten along the shih-aan's back. It was tempting to beat him, to use a strap or something that didn't require any special skill. After the canes, though, he doubted he could make an impression with a blow. His original plans were sound. Wishbone held on tight to Senjian's mane and fucked his mouth until spilling hot seed that overflowed the shih-aan's lips. When the red thunder behind his eyes receded, taking with it the sharpest of the sexual hunger, Wishbone got down on his knees and kissed away the wonderful mess he'd made.
The writing desk held a wooden box of trimmed swan quills. Wishbone took one and returned to the bed, where a sweaty, bound shih-aan waited face-down for him. Senjian couldn't see what he was doing and sprang about a foot straight up when Wishbone stroked Senjian's shoulder-blade with the feathery part of the quill. Wishbone moved the feather over a hair and stroked Senjian again. The shih-aan shuddered violently each time, then even more so when Wishbone turned the quill around and used the nib, drawing tiny marks on the skin of his neck and shoulders, his maneless back, and his buttocks.
In Wishbone's experience, most men didn't like so delicate a touch, and those who did couldn't stand it juxtaposed against anything hard and heavy. From the looks of it, shih-aan worked the same way....