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Day of Suneth, 4th of Grent, 762nd year of the great Sousen empire.

In some no-where shit hole town made up of mostly farms there is a tavern for those travelling the kingdoms roads, seeking adventure or running from trouble. In one particular room of this tavern a wolf grunts and pants his way through yet another orgasm as the fox below him clutches weakly at the stuffed mattress moaning in pleasurable discomfort, joined at the hips by the wolfs thick throbbing knot. I'm the fox and damn my ass is sore.

The six foot four grey wolf hunched over me like a big drooling moron is Dregos, the big oaf is a damn good swordsman for hire with more muscles than brains. For the last few months he's been my business partner/travelling companion and most recently a fuck machine that can't take 'No I'm too sore' for an answer, though sometimes I find myself reluctant to refuse.

As for myself, five foot eight inches of quick, toned and cunning blue fur, as well as the best damn rogue around if I do say so myself. The names Jason, I prefer to be called Jay but due to the asshole who wrote up my reward poster I've earned the name Bluejay because of my fur. I usually put up a pretty good tough guy act but it's hard to act tough with a knot the size of both my fists trying to throb your hips apart. What the... is he starting again?

"Dre.. ah, Dreg stop."

"Sorry Blue, you're so tight. We can sleep *grunt* after this... I promise." He says as he picks up the pace for round number four, my butt may be able to take a lot and like all butts it has limits but damn it hurts so good.

"Fuu.. That's what you sai..EH...D an hour ago" The jerk knows my hotspots and a particularly good thrust at the right angle will make me melt and push back despite any discomfort, bastard. "Ahh YES! HARDER!"

**--**

I was left at a church as a baby, found by some nun on the steps below the alter. No note, no name, not even a basket, abandoned because I was a born sin. At the core of the Sousen empire is a religion, based on the premise that all magic not used in the service of the church is a sin and any user who bares a child without consent (which is rare) is put to death. My blue fur marked me as a child of a magic user, so my mother gave me up to protect her own hide and I was named Jason, after some saint who served to rid the world of the evils of magic or some shit.

My first memory at the orphanage was getting into trouble, I have no idea what I had done but I remember how furious the nun was and thinking it was the most funny thing in the world, until I got 10 strokes with the cane atleast.

And so continued my life, as I grew I got into more trouble, got more punishment and chores then the rest of the boys and learnt to move quicker, smarter, quieter. I still got caught, but I got caught less, which led me to try bigger things, trading off my chores to the other boys in exchange for giving them extra food I had stolen and pushing myself to do more daring things. Each time I would push that little bit further, the punishment grew that little bit worse and once the welts on my ass stopped hurting I'd plan my next score.

At the age of nine I learnt that some pain never leaves you and despite the assurances that everything is done to a moral code, the world is cruel and morals don't mean shit

**--**

Day of Tunseth, 18th of Battec, 747thyear of the great Sousen empire.

Boys come and go at an orphanage, some are adopted, some get old enough to leave and some are selected by the church to be moulded into the priests of the future and when a bishop pays a visit to the priory, it means that 2 or 3 boys will be entering into holy training.

"No garden chores and a bath two days in a row, bishops coming" Jake said, a husky of 14 years, on his 15th name day he'd be free of this place. "You better behave yourself for a change" he said, leaning in close to poke me in the chest, close enough for me to spit a mouthful of water in his face to the giggles and laughs of the other boys. Too busy looking around at my onlookers to avoid being tackled by the larger boy, easily pinning my arms to the floor with his legs before Jake pried open my mouth with one paw and forced a bar of soap inside, "This'll teach you, little shit".

*BANG*

The Husky froze, paws still forcing me to bite into the oily, used and slightly hairy bar.

"Jake!" The priest Marcus bellowed a tall gaunt weasel of brown fur, a streak of grey running back over the left side of his face. An annoyingly prude man who couldn't see the funny side of anything if it struck him in the side of the face, which it once did... he wasn't my biggest fan. "Boys may NEVER press skin against another male, or have you forgotten your teachings?". Stepping towards us, hand clasped behind his back as Jake scramble up off of me, leaving me on the floor to try and clear the taste of soap scum mixed with the dirt and fur of a dozen other boys from my muzzle.

"I... I'm sorry Sir, I was only trying to teach him some manners." The husky frantically attempted to explain his way out of the priests judgment.

Marcus sneered down at me before placing a paw on Jakes shoulder "As I'm sure he has done something to deserve punishment, but that does not excuse your actions. You'll read of the condemnation of men's flesh tonight and I expect you to recite it to me tomorrow." Removing his paw from the boys shoulder he turned and walked towards the door "Finish bathing and dress, all of you will be expected to attend the mid-day service." Leaving us boys to quietly finish, I was unsuccessful in removing the taste from my muzzle.

**--**

Dressed in our best clothes we stood in disinterest within the courtyard as the bishops regiment rolled in, lead by 2 towering templars in ornate plate armour inlaid with silver and gold on two of the largest feral horses I'd ever seen, likewise in intricate plate. Followed by a wooden litter, vines and plants carved into the almost lifelike painted wood, carried on the shoulders of 4 bulls in black robes with 8 servants in tow, barely dressed but for a collar and loincloth. Lastly 3 mule drawn supply carts taking up the rear and over a dozen armed guards in shining gold plate steel and pristine white cloth.

I had kind of zoned out in the boredom and hadn't noticed everyone kneel as the litter was placed upon the ground, brought back to reality and to my knees by Father Marcus's cane across the back of my knees. The boys around me trying not to giggle at my sudden yelp as Marcus hissed through his teeth "Show some respect boy!" Blinking tears from my eyes as I tried to ignore the pain in my legs and knees, not wanting Father Marcus or the other boys to see my pain or embarrassment.

The templars dismounted and removed their helms, revealing them to be almost identical lions with manes cropped neatly back from their faces. Servants took their place by the litter, two ready to open the woven curtains and another two to help the bishop from his transport. One of the lions stepped forward to be greeted by our churches administrator Father Armon before turning to the attending crowd and announcing in an unnervingly deep voice, "His Holiness Bishop Esteen, Patriarch of the east!"

The litters curtains were drawn to the side and aided by two of the servants, Bishop Esteen emerged from within. The bishop was a German Sheppard, light brown fur with black muzzle and ears, spotted with patches of grey. Dressed in a gold lined white robe the size of a small tent that just barerly wrapped around the large dog, smiling as he was greeted by our administrator before greeting the crowd, patting some of the boys on the head as he walked past and into the church, followed by the priest and us boys. Marcus in the rear to make sure we kept in line.

**--**

Mid-day service was boring, long and boring. Full of holy retribution, endless love, compassion beyond telling and threats of damnation that made the younger more gullible boys do as they are told, while I got a few more sharp taps across the back with Marcus's cane for annoying the kitten beside me. Two hours of long boring speeches and monotonous song later and Father Armon started to prepare the communion, "We drink of his blood to honor the blood shed for us." Raising the cup towards the light from the large stained glass window, returning it to its place and raising a large bowl, "We eat of his flesh in praise of the trials visited upon him for our sins." Again returning the bowl to its place. "His holiness, Bishop Esteen has asked that the following boys be considered to train within the church and undertake communion."

A hushed whisper ran through the room at the annoucnment as it was unheard of for anyone to take communion before his 15th name day. Father Armon Cleared his voice loudly, silencing the room.

"Stephen" A young otter of 12 years, awkwardly getting to his feet and walking down the center of the chapel. "Cain the older" The 13 year old kitten I had been annoying earlier, one of two Cains. "Jake" The husky jumping to his feet, all proud of himself and flashing me a self satisfied grin. "Michael" a beagel of 14 years following suit. "And Jay." The room fell silent and I blinked from my position slumped on the bench chair.

Me?

A sharp jab in the back from Marcus's cane had me jumping out of my seat with more eagerness than I felt, still somewhat confused due to my reputation that I would be considered for training in the church. Walking slowly towards the front of the chapel, lining up behind the other boys under the confused and disgusted stares of the priests that knew me. One by one, each of us boys drank from the cup and took the offered bread, Father Armon refilling the cup with a gulps worth of wine before offering me the cup.

Never before having tasted wine, I didn't expect it to taste so terrible, sharp, bitter and oily all at the same time, though I put that down to the soap I had forced into my muzzle a few hours before. We were motioned over by the door to watch as the others priests took communion and left, the other children filing out with them, as the moments passed my head began to fog up, the room tilting from side to side and my stomach clenching into knots. I attempted to steady myself against Jake who shrugged me off, following the last of the priests out of the door with the other chosen boys

The room continued to rock as I stumbled after them, sweat suddenly matting my fur as I tried to shake the cotton from my mind, a light humming sound nagging at the back of my head. A paw gently rested on my shoulder and the world slid sideways from under me, I put my arms out to break my fall and instead fell into nothing, the world gone black.

**--**

What I remember I remember in flashes, the world dark as someone carried me over their shoulders, the sounds of their footsteps, muted by my foggy mind, unable to open the heavy lid of my eyes. Being laid on a carpet and my clothing removed, my body ignoring my mental commands to stop my best clothes from being taken from me. Dropped upon something thick and soft, something being crammed into my slack jaw and wrapped around the back of my head, then turned over onto my stomach, my arms being tugged roughly above my head and bound together. Footsteps again and then nothing, silence and the humming at the back of my mind.

What could have been seconds, minutes, hours or days. I was awoken from a sleep I didn't remember by a paw running up my back, things were somewhat clearer and I tugged feebly at the leather cord around my wrists and attached to the bed, still barely able to move as the paw explored my back and rear. Weight against my back, a rising discomfort from my hindquarters causing me to bite into my gag, knees keeping my legs apart as paws dug into my hips. "Such a naughty boy." The strained voice of someone behind me before a pain explodes from my rear like fire, spreading from my ring and up my spine. Screaming into my gag, tears filling my eyes blurring my restricted view.

A dull burning sensation from under my tail as my rapist thrust repeatedly into me, his breath stinking of wine, smoke and shit as he panted above me, crushing me under his weight and drooling on the back of my head. Crying as he starts again, my already damaged hole being stretched around his shaft for the fourth or fifth time as he talks dirty to me, calling me his 'little whore', his 'holy vessel', his 'fuck toy'.

Then nothing, just the floating darkness again.

**--**

When I awoke it was dark outside, now sober enough to look to the side and see his Holiness snoring away like the stinking blob he was. I shifted uneasily, wincing at the raw feeling around my wrists where the leather cord had rubbed the hair from my flesh, the claw marks over my sides and hips stinging as I moved, my insides cramped and burning from the night of trauma. Laying there I felt filthy, not just because of the cum and blood caked into the fur of my ass and legs, but all the way to my core. The kind of filth that gets into every pore and never washes away.

Twisting in my restraints and aided by the now reopened cuts in my wrist I was able to free my paws, fighting back tears as I rolled out of bed onto my shaking legs, a sob forced past my lips at the pain inside me as I stumbled around the room. I knew only hollowness within me as I went to the fireplace and pushed a poker into the still glowing coals before heading for the door, picking up a small sharp knife from a tray of fruit on my way past.

Slowly numbing to the pain I walked the silent corridors, bloody and naked. I gathered lamp oil from the store rooms, leaving one jar in the corridor and taking the other with me out into the cool air and towards the barn where the Bishops travelling party snored away. Finding a shovel for mucking the stable I used it to seal the barn doors shut before packing straw around the structure and dousing the piles with oil, lighting them with the stable lamp. Riding crop and knife in hand I strolled back towards the orphans building as the straw around the barn caught alight, knowing that Marcus should be doing his nightly check up on the other boys.

I didn't wait in the shadows long before Father Marcus walked past, a quick strike with the crop from behind brought him to his knees, the right height to plunge my knife into the side of his neck and he collapsed, no sound, just snuffed out like a flame. Leaving the crop beside Marcus's limp body, I took a torch from the wall and made my way into the main building, picking up the second jar of oil and lighting any curtain or tapestry along the way towards Father Armon's quarters.

A light sleeper, Father Armon woke just in time to see the open jar of oil I had thrown break against the wall above his bed, quickly followed by my lit torch, engulfed by a splendour of yellow, orange and blue flames, his screams falling upon deaf ears as I made my way back to the bishops room. Back in his Holiness' room, I barred the door and took up the now glowing poker, making my way toward the still snoring dog. Speaking to no-body but myself, "Such a naughty boy you've been your Holiness", shoving the hot poker into his crotch.

**--**

By the time I climbed out of the window, people were screaming either in panic or because they could not escape the flames I had started, the entire priory was burning.

Covered in blood and wearing one of the Bishops robes I modified to fit like a tunic, I walked away from the lies and torture, starting my journey upon the road before me.

**--**

Day of Mooneth, 5th of Grent, 762nd year of the great Sousen empire.

The big oaf of a wolf grunted above me, giving a final buck into my sore rear and collapsing ontop of me, panting like a mutt. I tried to shift abit under his weight with no luck, "Dregos *huff* can you roll over a bit? Dregos?". The stupid wolf starts Snoring above me, 4 hours of sex, keeping me awake until the early hours of the morning and now he's fallen asleep, still hard and buried inside me. His cock throbs, forcing a moan from my lips, bastard.