I thought Madam would welcome the strangers but instead moved in the opposite direction of them, letting the owners deal with them instead.
I continued to follow behind her dazedly. The tingling in my belly wouldn't stop, and neither did my tail from flicking in excitement. I was becoming more like a dog in heat by the second.
My head was full of fuzz. I was getting light-headed and weak in the knees. I couldn't focus on anything other than her steps in front of me. Just following her blindly.
Madam stopped and turned to look at me over her shoulder.
"Did Vick let you drink wine again?" she asked, "You are swaying."
I looked up at her, confused. Was I? I wasn't feeling like myself, that was for sure. Tipsy. A little giddy and floaty. A little happy, too.
The world was so bright and colorful all of a sudden. I liked it. I liked it a lot. I liked it...so much.
It was a different like from the one I felt towards the owners. Liking the owners was simple; liking Madam was a struggle.
Because why would I prefer this over them? Why would I prefer someone who barely noticed me? Who sometimes pushed me away? And at other times pulled me closer?
It was hard to describe. She was the first to hold me when I needed it. The first to push me forward when I was hesitating. Always watching. Always listening. And always caring in her own way.
No matter how hard you would fall, she would be there. Not to catch you but to help you stand again. To look at your bruises and nod like they meant something. Something that was worth being proud of.
Even a pathetic coward like me had a place by her side, because... Even when I stumbled, even when I cried too easily or shook with fear, there was something in me that made her want to keep me. I could change and be better, or never change and remain an attention seeking dog in heat, she would still keep me around.
"You are drunk," she said, "On a kiss. A bad one."
I stopped at my steps, hiding my face in between my hooves, grinning shyly.
She continued walking, leaving me behind. "What are you going to do if it's a good one next time?"
A good kiss? With Madam? Next time? What would I do? Die…? I thought. Happy death. The best kind. I would just drop dead. That's what I would do. And I did. Just by imagining it.
Her curses came closer and closer, but I was already gone, dreaming about Madam and a good kiss. I would like that very much, I decided. Yes, I would.
"Getting lost in your head, are you now?" She lifted me by the ear.
"Mhmm," I hummed in response. Happy dead sheep, that was me. The happiest. And the deadest.
She released my ear, and I dropped to the ground with a thud, waking me up from my happy dead state.
I rubbed my ear with my hove, blinked at her lips and then fell to my happy dead state again.
She stared at me, her expression speechless beyond belief. "Put it on," she ordered and threw her cloak at me.
I shifted and enveloped myself with the familiar smell of the owner's clothes and Madam's scent, "Is it difficult?"
"What?"
"Having to share your love with so...so many. Is it exhausting?" I asked. I noticed it was not only about being pampered by her males. It was about giving back just as much, if not more, as you were receiving.
To make them feel loved and wanted. She had to divide herself among nine, and it probably was not enough for any of them.
Madam adapted her treatment to fit their personalities and needs, to give each of them the best she could provide, while still keeping her essence.
Madam was still there, no matter who she was interacting with. I didn't expect her to answer my question, but she did.
"Sometimes," she replied quietly, offering her hand to help me to my feet. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm not doing enough. Or not the right thing. Or I might be doing the right thing, but the wrong way round. So yes, it's difficult. But not a bad difficult," she explained. "Still tiring thought… fulfillingly tiring."
I held her hand, noticing her matching my slow tempo and wondering if she was tired, "Is your body...alright?"
"It's not about sex," she said, "It's about the little things. There are too many providers, and not enough receivers. We want to give and give and give, and no one wants to take."
She ruffled her hair in frustration. "Sex is easy. We have plenty of that between us, but this…" She let go of my hand for a moment, only to slip her arms under mine and lift me up to avoid me from tripping over a rock, "...this is different..."
"...The beastman's instinct to provide and protect can be overwhelming. Even though Gold says he doesn't want to carry Michael, you can bet he is going to have that guy on his back, sooner or later."
She laughed and then smiled, "Michael is a provider with nothing to provide. So, of course, he's going to be the most cranky out of the nine."
She pointed out, "He was pushed into the role of a receiver. That little throne of his, that he's so proud of, is not just to be above everyone. It's also a place where everyone can dote on him without him feeling guilty for taking without giving back. It's his way of coping with his situation."
So that's why... They loved each other so much that it hurt when they couldn't give back as much as they were receiving.
There was no way for that frustration to disappear unless they went against their nature and started taking more than giving.
That's why madam cried for someone to save her from the wolf beastmen, and why the owners played along despite knowing she didn't need any saving.
Was that also why she was mean toward the owners?
So that owners didn't have to fight each other for her attention and get along with each other instead?
After all, they often grouped up against Madam.