Duties
#8 of Carthani
Duties
Duties by Sophie Bell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. It contains scenes of a sexual nature not intended for readers under the age of consent. Feel free to e-mail me or comment below!!
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The sun was rising in Carthani, glinting dully off the armor that Karshek wore. He stood, along with five other furs, in a neat line just outside the palace gate, which was guarded by even more furs, also armored. His captain paced back and forth in front of them, and Karshek resisted the urge to sigh in boredom.
"Today is another recruiting day, gentlefurs." The captain, a grizzled old cougar, said. His voice was completely without emotion - but then, if he had been in the royal guard for nearly twenty years, Karshek figured that he might have stopped caring about regular duties. Hell, he was already bored with the day-to-day business of being a guard.
"You," he pointed at Karshek, revealing a single sharp claw. "Will take these men and scout through the slums, see if you can't find some lads that are worth training." Karshek offered Captain Rossin a sharp salute, mailed fist clanging noisily against his chest.
"Sir!" He said, and glanced towards the furs near him, lifting one eyebrow. "Well? Let's go, boys, we have work to do!" After a series of salutes, they moved as one, clanking noisily down the streets of Carthani, which were, thankfully, free of crowds this early.
When they reached the part of the city known only as 'the slums', Karshek called his squad to a halt, ignoring the sweat that was already trickling down his spine under the armor. "We'll split up here." He said, trying to sound more like Captain Rossin than he actually did. "Each of you visit separate houses, and report back here at noon with whatever you have." He grimaced, glancing around. "Don't bring back anything with diseases, we don't need that in our barracks." Karshek glanced at one of the furs, a lithe black panther named Roarke. "Roarke, you come with me." The panther nodded, and at Karshek's wave, the rest of the squad dispersed.
Karshek picked the first hovel that he came across, pausing only to adjust the helmet over his head, assuring himself that it was strapped on tightly. Unlike the rest of Carthani's citizens, Karshek didn't have to wear a mask - at least not while he was on duty. The helmet served well enough to cover his features, and the solid black cloak, marked with the heron of the royal family, made it obvious that he was a guard. Not to mention the sword hanging at one hip - another thing that regular Carthani citizens weren't usually allowed.
"You know the drill, Roarke." He said, and the panther nodded, taking up a position outside the door. Karshek only knocked once, shouting out the perfunctory "Royal guard, open up!" before pushing the door open himself, stomping inside the tiny shack with barely a pause. A family of Dobermans, so thin that they looked on the verge of starvation, stared up at him when he entered, shutting the rickety door behind him. One female, one male, and two pups that must have been brother and sister eyed him warily from the farthest corner of the room.
Karshek knew he was intimidating - he prided himself on it. He was large for a cheetah, as well, more muscular than the citizenry, due to his constant training. That wasn't to say he couldn't run as quickly as any other cheetah, but it did mean that he could stand paw-to-paw with a full-grown lion and hold his own.
"You." He pointed at the boy, whose family immediately moved closer to him, as if to protect the cub. "Come here." The dogs were still staring at him, but when he spoke, one of them shuffled forwards - the father, he assumed. The Doberman's ears were flat against his skull, and Karshek grinned behind his helmet. This might turn out to be an entertaining morning after all. "H-he's too young, sir." The adult male stammered, and then straightened his spine, trying to intimidate the cheetah standing before him. "You can't take him yet." Karshek's eyes narrowed as he stared at the Doberman challenging him.
"What's your name, mutt?" He snarled, purposely letting his paw drift towards his sword hilt. The male Doberman paled beneath his black fur, but didn't move aside. "Cardin, sir. And you can't take my son, he's not reached his majority yet." Karshek nodded as if this made perfect sense, and then, with no warning at all, drew his sword, flicking it out towards Cardin, resting the point lightly beneath his muzzle.
"I am taking your son to become a member of the most esteemed royal guard, dog. Perhaps you should consider that before speaking again." He spoke calmly, without raising his voice, but Cardin flinched away, scoring a bright red line along the underside of his jaw. Karshek returned his attention to the pup, regarding the dog more closely.
"What's your name, son?" He crooned, smiling beneath his helmet even though the dog couldn't see it. And it was a dog, not a pup. Karshek realized this only an instant after he focused his attention on the younger Doberman. Skinny as he was, the dog was old enough to rut, and that was old enough for the royal guard.
"Marc, sir." The Doberman said, failing to stutter as his father had. Karshek's opinion of the male improved, slightly. At least he wasn't trembling in fear - yet. "I-I'd like to be in the royal guard, sir." The dog continued, gesturing at his family with one paw. "I could help my family." Well, youth should be allowed it's illusions. Karshek was under strict orders, after all, and though the dog's mother and sister would be spared, his father would not.
"Good. Let's go somewhere more private so that I can speak to you about your upcoming duties, Marc." He said, ignoring the protests of the dogs around him. Instead, he turned, opening the door and gesturing for Marc to leave before him. Roarke was waiting outside, some fifteen paces off. He wasn't exactly unobtrusive, but the excited Doberman didn't notice him, and was instead staring at Karshek in awe. Briefly, Karshek made eye contact with Roarke, before moving away from the shack, the dog trailing along at his heels.
Karshek glanced at the sun as he led Marc out of the slums, heading for a section of the city that was barred from regular citizens -- a place known as the Mines, though there was nothing left to mine. There hadn't been, for longer than anyone could remember, but the caverns and caves, sunk into a steep-walled canyon, served as a perfect prison.
The dregs of society were kept in the Mines - all noble criminals were held in the Crow's Tower, which adjoined the royal palace. Karshek couldn't understand why it made a difference, himself, but he hadn't been born a noble. In fact, he had been recruited out of the slums, just like his new friend Marc.
"Why are we at the Mines?" The Doberman queried, looking uneasy as they passed through the huge iron gates that sealed the only entrance to the canyon prison. "This is where we train, boy, now shut your trap." Karshek snarled, barely glancing at the Doberman as he glided through the narrow, stinking passageway that led down into the Mines proper.
The room he led Marc into was one of the cleaner prison cells - and slightly larger than most. It even had a window; a narrow crack cut into the stone by slaves in order to provide light and fresh air. Not that either made it smell any better, but Karshek would change that - or rather, Marc would.
The door shut behind them both with a hollow booming sound, causing the Doberman to jump and whirl, staring wide-eyed at the only exit, which was now locked. Karshek had a key, of course, but the Doberman would never get his paws on it - at least not while Karshek was alive.
"Strip." He ordered, reaching behind his helmet and pressing the button that would release it from his skull - an ingenious contraption that the Magician's Guild had thought up years before. With a slight hum, the helmet folded in on itself, until it was open-faced and easily removed by Karshek's agile paws.
The Doberman was still clothed, which didn't surprised Karshek in the slightest. They never obeyed immediately the first time. He kept his voice calm, as if he were speaking about the weather. "Strip, or I'll use my sword to do it for you." He said, and fought back a grin at the fear that flickered in Marc's dark brown gaze. Rapidly, the Doberman did as he was told, pulling the layers of his dirty clothing over his bony frame with little effort.
Karshek gestured at a tiny hole carved into the wall of the cell, no bigger than his own fist. "Shove your clothes in there." He snapped, and watched as the Doberman hurriedly did so. The hole in the wall was little more than a chute, leading down to an incinerator deep within the mines.
Methodically, the cheetah circled around the naked Doberman, prodding here and there with the tip of his sword, inspecting the almost-emaciated dog as if he were a slave at market - which, essentially, he was. At each tiny prick of his sword, the Doberman flinched, the fear in his gaze becoming more and more evident. By the end of ten minutes, Karshek observed a dog almost gibbering with fear, and decided that he had waited long enough.
"In order to begin your training as a member of the most esteemed royal guard, you must first prove to me that you are worth the trouble." He spoke by rote - the same words had been said to him, not so long ago. The Doberman was staring at him, fear obvious in his expression. Karshek waited.
"W-what must I do, sir?" The stammer was there, now, where it had not been before. Karshek grinned, baring needle-sharp teeth. "You must obey me, without question, for the next twelve months. After that, you will be released to begin your training as a royal guardsman." Karshek paused just long enough to let his words sink in, and then snapped, pointing at the floor. "On your knees, boy."
Though obviously reluctant, Marc did as he was told, wincing at the cold, uneven rock beneath his knees. Karshek shifted, moving to stand almost on top of the kneeling dog. Already, he could feel the tingle of arousal, deep in his abdomen, at the sight of the nude Doberman kneeling before him. Despite what the general population would have said about the royal guard's training practices, obviously the Emperor had thought it out well - and obviously the Emperor possessed a very healthy sex drive. His guards wore very little beneath their waists - knee-length strips of leather, studded with pointed metal rivets, were all that guarded a fur's genitals from the world. Of course, most guards wore pants of some sort as well, but usually that was reserved for the winter months, and right now it was well into summer.
As a result of this particular style of armor, Karshek's erection was becoming very visible, slowly creeping out of his furred sheath and into the air. Karshek grinned down at the Doberman, who had jerked slightly when the cheetah stood over him. "If I feel one tooth, you'll lose an ear." He said, thinking of the handful of royal guards he had seen missing an ear - and knowing the reasons why. New recruits only ever had to go through that once - if they were smart, that is. Marc, on his knees and gagging at the thought of what he was about to do, was even smarter than those furs had been - he chose not to lose any ears at all.
Instead, fighting back the urge to get as far away from the cheetah as possible, the Doberman lifted his muzzle and tentatively licked the tip of Karshek's prick.
Karshek blinked down at the Doberman, and with a long-suffering sigh, reached out a paw and grabbed the scruff of the skinny dog's neckfur, dragging his muzzle forwards before he had a chance to close his mouth. A muffled yelp of surprise told Karshek that he had timed it right - not to mention the sloppy, wooonderful moisture of the Doberman's maw, which Karshek began to very enthusiastically fuck, ignoring the whimpers of the kneeling dog.
"Ah, yeeessss, that's it." He growled, kneading his claws into the back of Marc's neck, thrusting his hips back and forth in jerky, violent motions. The dog was still whimpering, though he wasn't stupid enough to try and pull away, and for that, Karshek decided, he wouldn't be beaten at the end of the day. For long minutes - which must have seemed like an eternity to Marc, Karshek thoroughly fucked the hell out of his muzzle, failing to exercise an ounce of restraint. This was step one of his inauguration into the royal guard, after all, and if he couldn't take being face-fucked, than he wasn't cut out for some of the terrible things that would come in the future - war being uppermost among them. The Emperor demanded obedient, vicious furs for his royal guard and royal army, and what Karshek was doing had worked for hundreds of years to produce them.
"Damn, puppy, you're pretty good for a raw recruit." Karshek growled, pulling his prick out of the hapless dog's maw. He was dribbling pre-cum by now, but he didn't bother to wipe it off - that was something else that the Doberman would do for him. "Sure you haven't done this before?" He queried, eyeing the panting, gasping dog with amusement.
"P-please, no more." Marc gasped, in between retching coughs. His throat had to be sore, but Karshek felt no pity. This was the way it had to be, and had been, for generations. A cold, emotionless smile spread across the cheetah's muzzle, showing teeth. "We're not done yet, puppy." He purred, and spread one paw against the kneeling dog's chest, shoving him backwards. The Doberman sprawled, yelping as he hit the hard, rocky ground, and scrambled away from Karshek instinctively. The room was small, though - barely large enough to hold two furs, so Karshek simply watched, waiting for Marc to realize the inevitable: that he had nowhere to go.
"This is the way it is, Marc." He grated, reaching down to casually stroke his erection with one paw. "One year, remember?" Visibly, the Doberman swallowed, and then grimaced at the taste of his own saliva mixed with Karshek's pre-cum. Karshek waited, infinitely patient. He would get what he wanted, no matter the Doberman's inclinations. This is the best part of my job. He thought, considering the three other recruits he would visit while he was in the Mines this morning.
"W-what do you want me to do, sir?" Marc stammered, and Karshek grinned. The pup had finally realized his position. Sometimes Karshek enjoyed the recruits that fought every step of the way through the first year of training, but this wasn't one of those moments. Besides, one of the other recruits he would visit was still fighting his duties - and he'd be the last fur that Karshek visited today.
"Brace yourself against that cot there, recruit." He said, and waited for the Doberman to arrange himself. Of course, Marc's knees were too close together, but Karshek easily arranged his limbs for him, positioning the dog correctly. "This will hurt." He crooned, leaning over Marc's backside. "But only the first few times."
With that warning, and with a little guidance from his own paw, Karshek pushed the length of his prick into the Doberman's waiting tail hole, groaning with pleasure as the tight walls enveloped his member. He ignored the yips of pain coming from the Doberman - those were to be expected - and continued to push until he was buried to the hilt, sighing softly in pleasure once he was.
Beneath him, Marc was sniveling and whimpering, nearly overwhelmed by the pain that the cheetah was causing him. But the Doberman fought past it, having realized that he must survive this if he wanted to be a royal guard and take care of his family. Being raped by a cheetah was a small price to pay for food on the table - his sister and mother had both proved that years ago. "W-what's your name, sir?" He said, shocked by how ragged his own voice sounded. What had started as a day of joy was turning into something else entirely. But he wasn't afraid of the cheetah - he got the impression that the cat was simply doing his job, and nothing more. He didn't think he would be killed, which helped with the fear. Still, what he was doing - what was being done to him - terrified him.
Karshek paused, smiling at the back of Marc's skull. The boy was learning fast, and that was a good thing. He would still serve the entire year - there was no changing that number - but it seemed that the Doberman wouldn't suffer as much as some of the other recruits. It was sooo nice when they fell into line this easily.
"I am called Karshek." He said simply, and proceeded to thoroughly and brutally fuck the dog beneath him.