FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Anthro Sex Squad Story 2 - Winfred's Story

By Killenor

Arc 1 - Origins

Chapter 7

Hreugh sauntered into the Dead Mole, a seedy underground tavern that always saw plenty of traffic. Mostly the new soldiery, looking to trade their pay for liquor and things that would make their duty more comfortable, frequented here. In this mass of black-marketeering, drinking, and camaraderie it was easy to get lost. Better still, it was always a breeding ground of gossip and secrets, commodities that people like him thrived upon.

This was living. Too long it had been that Hreugh was on his own. All those years thieving when this, the slime coating of society, was where he belonged. It was here that he could prey upon fears, find the unwary, and learn the true ways of torment. In his youth he needed disguises and tricks to listen in but now, his infamy dulled and age wearing upon him, he needed nothing but his practiced fatherly smile.

His eyes wandered, following the groups of friends and the packs of comrades, stalking the ripe fields of souls for prey. Every now and again he would find the weak, the lonely, and the secretly uncertain... those whose fears and pain would hang from them as ripe fruit from a tree. Working his secretive magicks, he would find those fruits and pluck them, taking their pain to fuel his might. And best yet, the black and yellow biles would flow after such fruit was picked, leaving the person even angrier and more depressed than they had ever been.

No one would notice. It was all right there, begging to be taken. The sadness of losing a friend to war, the embarrassment of an infelicitous remark, an unfaithful wife bearing your enemies son. A candy store could not have had more sweets to offer Hreugh.

To and fro he weaseled between drooping faces, offering a knowing smile and a bitter pint. All the better to get them to spill their suffering out, only for it to multiply and infect once again. And today was an even better day than he remembered. Always count on the ugly and crippled to pay the best money. Hreugh didn't even have to haggle to get a fat sack of coins off of the old burnt ram. Any other whore would have run screaming from such a countenance, but not Winfred, his prize.

And that ram would be coming back for more once he got a proper taste of her magicks, thought Hreugh greedily. Winfred had been such an eager and attentive student, and though his magicks prohibited her from learning the true breadth of Hreugh's knowledge, she never-the-less had mastered all he could teach. The deep seated secrets of true pleasure and fulfillment.

If only she were receptive to the other side, for what was pleasure without pain really? A totally undefined set of sensations. A tower that you only viewed from the top and could never understand how truly high up it went.

And with each gasp and yelp the towering plateau of pleasure got just a little higher.

Suddenly... something.

A flash of something wrong.

The invisible threads of magick that bound Winfred's mind to his shuddered! It was only the briefest of things, like everything snapping back into place after having been held open!

That ram, he must have seen his work. Must be able to sense the magicks that bound the anger and pain of his little whore. He was in danger of being exposed!

With a seconds focus, Hreugh projected himself through his protégé's eyes. He saw she was looking at the concerned face of that burnt ram. He heard the words coming from his girl's mouth, explaining...

Snapping out of his trance, Hreugh cast his gaze quickly about the place. This time his predatory eyes roamed for those he could manipulate. Words came to his lips, angry words, words that would inflame the choler of those around him.

Each and every man in the tavern shuddered as invisible waves blew unseen strands of magick around them. Their eyes glazed and their thoughts went unbidden to their sisters, daughters, mothers... seeing them abused, tormented... raped! Each in his turn bit upon his lip, frothing at the unbidden anger that filled them. Still Hreugh continued to chant, now weaving in those cursed thoughts of vengeance that he had pulled from so many a mind.

Every thought of negotiation evaporated in the room. The whole crowd sat entranced, thinking only of how they would punish the interloper that dared harm their... their...

All they could see was a defenseless girl, ravaged by a hideous scarred man.

Hreugh got to his feat and in only a few real words, brought everyone charging behind him.

"Let's go get him!"

***

Almost an hour later, I had told the strange sheep-man everything that I could, very much as I have told it to you. I feared the next few minutes when Hreugh's dominance would reassert itself over me, but seeing my only lifeline, I clung to Wethers, pouring myself into every word. The beast within me demanded action, but it could only hold itself in rapt attention, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

***

A young wolverine girl sat crying on the corner of her bed. She had just laid her soul bare to a stranger who had promised her a new life, but nothing could have prepared her for the hurt. Pain, anguish, and abuse from seven years as a harlot welled forth alongside the guilt of assisting in Hreugh's torturous ways. The faces of those in the dungeon haunted her and stared accusingly as she cried.

Wethers held her gently against him, doing his best to comfort the tortured woman beside him. His own guilt gnawed at him as he felt his power slipping, knowing that soon she would be under the sway of that maniac once more.

"D-d-don't," Winfred sobbed, "n-n-n-no... don't let him take me again... I can't... I-i-i... can't"

Wethers petted the girl's soft hair, knowing that his power would give way any second.

"I won't let him keep you. By Aaluran, I will set you free Winfred, once and for all."

Suddenly, the sobs stopped. The power had slipped and Winfred's feelings evaporated back into the corner of her mind they had stayed in for so long. She sat up, calm faced as ever, though the red in her eyes betrayed her bitter tears.

"Your time is just about up," Winfred said plainly, "If you want any last minute gropes or anything, you'd best to get with it."

The turn-around was staggering. More than anything now, Wethers wanted to see this girl free of her enslavement. It was so very clear now that she was the right one, and so painfully obvious as to the monster that held her.

Boots...

Even Wethers' shriveled ears could hear the pounding of dozens of pair of boots entering the main room. The clatter of armor and weapons resounded as something near 15 people piled in to the atrium. Standing, Wethers unlimbered his falchion, making ready to meet this new challenge. His eyes drifted across the runes etched into the blade. Hope, Love, and Freedom, they read... the very things he was fighting for.

A fumbling at the door told him he had mere moments to prepare. Whatever happened, he would have to make it to Hreugh before he could have a chance to escape. The door flew open to a flood of angry soldiers and a reek of magikal effluence. Wethers' odd caprine eyes narrowed as he realized what Hreugh had brought against him; an entire bar full of entranced men. Eldritch wisps, invisible to those not blessed to see magicks, crept betwixt ears and steamed from the eyes. These men heard and saw only what their master wished and no truth could prevail upon them.

They crowded in, but preceding them came a flurry of ceramic spheres. They burst all about the room, releasing a viscous goo that exploded into fine strands upon exposure to air. In an instant, Wethers was covered head to toe in sticky filaments like spider webbing, anchored to the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. The next few moments he was surrounded. Spears and sword-tips aimed at the mass of webbing, their killing blows stayed only by the will of their master.

Hreugh came to the doorway, a victorious grin playing across his features. Another would be hero overtaken by his vastly superior ability. Best yet, he hadn't even taken his clothes off! Hreugh allowed himself a harsh chuckle, to die in a brothel without getting laid... what a tragic end.

Suddenly, the webby mass shifted. Though it seemed impossible for anyone to be moving, motion was never-the-less happening. Something shining silver slashed out from inside the webbing. A dozen times and more the blade licked out, each stroke felling an assailant surrounding the mass.

The cocky badger was stunned. He simply couldn't look away as blow after blow felled his rough and ready soldiers. As each one lost consciousness his power leeched away, evaporating from the ears and eyes of his victims. A terrible emptiness filled him as his thralls were dispatched with impossible rapidity.

As he came to terms with what was happening, his brain instantly kicked in to overdrive. He had to put this sheep-man down, and fast! Words of power came quickly to his lips as the last man fell. He would bind this sheep's mind and make him his own personal warrior! Hreugh struggled to keep his concentration as the sticky webbing slid impossibly away from Wethers, leaving him as clean and untouched as when he came!

The wisps that shot from Hreugh's eyes and mouth as he pronounced the last syllable were a psychedelic riot of hues. They lanced for Wethers like darts, but broke like waves upon the shore as they reached him.

His eyes, Hreugh noticed, were aglow with righteous power and his features contorted in a mixture of loathing and rage. The great falchion swung with each slow, deliberate step toward Hreugh, as if Wethers were daintily holding a peacock-quill pen and not a massive wedge of steel.