The Social Norm
A wolf tries to evade his duties to the government and his adopted tribe, and pays the price that disobedience sews.
The older wolf watched, with sad eyes, as his son hurriedly packed his things. Whiteclaw rumbled, "Boy what do you think you'll accomplish? This is the price for losing the war with the Vulps. We could have sent you away to the seminary when you were younger, but you refused."
Silverclaw snarled angrily at his father, "I didn't start that stupid war, that was your generation! Why should I pay the price? T-they already took half the women in town, what do they need with me?!" He quickly packed a warm tunic, his beloved flute, a couple of pieces of bread, and some hard cheese. The young lupine had his water skin all filled up, and was just about ready to go.
Whiteclaw heaved a long sigh. "Because they have to leave enough females for us to breed boy. And there are a certain percentage of Vulps who... come on lad! They're the fiercest hunters in the land, do you expect to outrun them?"
The younger wolf shouldered his pack and spat, "I'm damn well going to give it a try! If I don't see you again... take care of mother." He didn't share his feeling of love for the older male, because right at that moment, he didn't feel any. The lad hurried out the door into the cool night air, leaving his father sitting at the kitchen table, in the silence of his guilt. He knew that he would tell the Vulp messenger the truth when they came to collect his son. He had a wife to care for and a home that he didn't want burned to the ground...
A couple of hours later, Silverclaw was making good time down the moonlit path towards the coast. If he could make it through the rest of this forest, find a barn to sleep in, and start off early the next night... the lupine might be able to find passage on a ship to the new continent. Surely the fox creatures wouldn't chase him over the open water? Spurred on by thoughts of escape, the wolf picked up the pace in an attempt to get this part of his journey over with that much more quickly.
Inexperienced with cross country travel, the lad missed the subtle signs of chase. A rustling in the trees. A void of silence where there would normally be crickets chirping. Bent branches from someone getting a look ahead and doubling back. The poor lupine didn't know that he was already caught, just focused on making it to the clearing up ahead. A few minutes later, a hurried, careless step onto some innocent looking leaves became the wolf's final mistake. A mistake resulting in the world being turned upside down for poor Silverclaw, as the loop of rope trapped his ankle and hauled his ass upwards, leaving the lad to dangle and whimper like a frightened pup.
Moving out in front of the dangling lad was a savage brute of a creature. The tall, muscular fox stepped into the clearing, paw still holding the other end of the rope. He chuckled darkly, the Vulp clearly amused at how easily the wolven lad fell to such a simple trick. As the disoriented Silverclaw stared at his captor, he realized with shock that the fox was naked save for a few pouches and the belt that held his bowie knife. He found himself face-to-crotch with his conqueror, and quickly averted his eyes to avoid looking at the chiseled body of the savage.
So the wolf lad felt rather than saw the damp tip of the fox's sheath swipe slowly across his forehead, leaving a musky trail along the lupine's fur that made Silverclaw wrinkle his nose and cough. The Vulp rumbled, "I am the one known as Felisaurin. By the law of the land and the treaty your people signed to end the war, I claim you as my own." He let the rope slip in his hands, just a fraction, making the boy scream in terror as he thought he was going to be dropped on his head! "Open your eyes whelp. Attend to the words of your new master."
Silverclaw still had a little defiance in him. He squirmed, making the rope swing around slowly as his three free limbs flailed. The wolf yipped, "I'm a free man, I can't be claimed or owned!" This statement drew a loud snort from the Vulp. He reached out with a powerful arm and set the lad to spinning clockwise, quite quickly. When the rope reached the limit of a twist in the direction, the poor lad started to unfurl in a counterclockwise direction! His head was swimming, and he thought he might be sick. That same strong, red furred arm reached out again to stop the poor boy's rotation. "You are mine, or you are nobody's. That is the last right that you will ever have to choose the path that your life follows."
When the captive lupine's head stopped spinning, he saw what the Vulp now held in his paw... a long, sharp bowie knife. Was the fox really going to kill him if he refused to obey? Tears of panic and fear dripped 'up' the hanging wolf's cheeks and ears. He blubbered softly and cried in the moonlight, shoulders shaking as he struggled to find words. When he finally did they sounded girlish, weak even to his ears. "Yes, yes you own me, just p-please don't kill me!"
Felisaurin grunted, and eyed the lad. While the arm holding the rope was held rock steady, the knife wielding paw suddenly flashed out. The lupine screamed and clenched his eyes shut, expecting pain. Instead he heard two thumps and a fluttering noise. He opened his eyes quickly. It took him a while to realize that, with three deft slices, the Vulp had cut him free of his belt and breaches, and in his panic the backpack has slipped from the lad's shoulders. He was hanging, as naked as a jaybird, in front of the powerful savage. Silverclaw's ears blushed back, never having been exposed in front of a stranger... an owner, someone with expectations.
The Vulp examined his new property, sheath starting to swell to overfilling as he stroked and squeezed the dangling wolf's legs, his rump, he feet. Whatever he observed must have pleased him, because the fox walked over to the tree from which the lad dangled. He lowered the boy so that three of his limbs were touching the ground with half their weight, while the captive ankle left Silverclaw's right rear leg lifted high in the air, rumpcheeks well presented and lewdly spread. As the Vulp tied the rope to one of the branches in order to secure his captive at exactly that height, the wolf shook with fear, teary eyes looking at his pack and useless clothes laying just out of reach.
Felisaurin might have been well spoken, but his nature was carnal, closer to the heart of an animal than a civilized man. He took out four large berries from a pouch, and slashed them open so that the juices started to run. The fox bent to grab the tail of the shaking lad, and slowly forced three of the ripe purple fruits into the protesting male's tailhole. He grunted with satisfaction as he felt that tight virgin sphincter crush and juice each berry as it entered Silverclaw's ass. He explained, "Marriage ceremony has started. Those will make you much better bride." The fox slowly toyed the last ripe, dripping berry over the lupine's tailstar, lubing it up and allowing the threat of something else pushing in to keep the lad's sphincter tight, and allow those powerful juices to work.
Silverclaw's breath caught as his rump was invaded by three slick orbs and the tip of a finger. He squirmed helplessly at the end of his tether, starting to lose feeling in his raised left leg as it slowly fell asleep. But that wasn't the only sensation he was experiencing. The berry juice invaded the lad's bloodstream, making his head light, and his blood pound. His smaller, light grey sheath started to bulge as artificial feelings of lust and need took away some of the sadness he was feeling. It wasn't so bad, right? The wolf quickly became resigned to his fate, knowing that there was no escape. The drugs made his balls ache with need, and slowly the wolf's backdoor relaxed enough so that the last berry slipped easily into the wolf's anus without breaking. His hole glistened in the bright moonlight. Slowly, without even knowing he was doing so, Silverclaw raised his tail high into the air.
The vulpine gave his captive's rump a light swat of approval. By now the fox's black skinned 10 and a half thick, throbbing inches were hanging from his sheath fully, the knot not yet formed. He started the words of the ceremony, "I, Felisaurin, take this bitch as my wife." He hunched over the wolf and thrusted his manhood into the captive's rear with a single stroke, right to the balls. Silverclaw screamed weakly, but the juicy lube had done its job, relaxing his sphincter somewhat and making his body want this, no matter what his sober mind would have thought!
The Vulp grunted loudly and continued to thrust, his veiny ebony member spreading the once-virgin wolf's asshole lewdly wide around that turgid manhood. "Her name is no longer Silverclaw, a name given by her father. It is now Sylvia, a name given by her husband and master." The juices that lubricated 'Sylvia's' asshole were now also seeping into the skin of Felisaurin's cock, making the blood echo in the savage's ears as his heart raced.
Sylvia's smaller pink shaft hung heavily between his legs, knot already ballooning up. He stood on three unsteady legs, only really staying upright because the noose on his lewdly raised fourth limb kept him in place as he was plundered by his husband. That thick, fevered shaft was dragging right over the lupine's prostate with every ball-tapping thrust that the savage made into his new 'wife'. He whimpered helplessly as the words washed over him... "She will take my seed and the seed of my tribe, as I see fit. She will never cover her ass again, to be better prepared for her husband's needs."
The fox threw that raised tail to one side and fully mounted the wolf bitch, reaching down under the lupine's flat chest to tweak and tug at 'her' nipples, shamelessly fucking and teasing poor Sylvia right in the middle of the forest. He pressed his fuzzy white chest to the lupine's silver-grey back, melding their bodies like they were two wild animals caught in the middle of their midnight rut, and that this was just the natural order of things. The strong claiming the weak.
Felisaurin was popping the start of his knot in and out of the weak-kneed wolf's stretched tailhole now, using faster, more shallow thrusts to tease his black bulb to full girth. He snarled, "And she will call me 'Master'!" With that, he popped his knot home a final time and started to grind his hips greedily against his wife's rump, allowing his member to swell to the size of a fist clenched in victory! A few seconds later, the savage squirted his full load into his wife, claiming her ass for the first time among hundreds. But that wasn't enough for the Vulp. He bit the scruff of Sylvia's neck and kept pounding, with merciless half inch strokes of trapped manhood against the lad's overstimulated prostate gland.
Flushing in excitement and embarrassment, Sylvia's untouched cock jumped a few times, and then weakly squirted a few ounces of 'her' sperm into the grass below, an offering to nature and a sign of submission to her new husband. She moaned prettily, to the delight of her new mate. The wolf would never be able to touch her dick without permission again, and most of the time there was the expectation that she would cum like the girl that she had been labeled. Sylvia would have to rely on the touch of a man's dick to achieve orgasm from this day forward, barring the kind stroke of a drunken warrior, or the mischievous rub of a housewife's foot, or the soft drag of that needy wolven shaft against a set of plundered silk sheets as she was spitroasted during a victory celebration.
This was Sylvia's life now... no longer the defiant son of wolves, but instead, the wife of Master Felisaurin. The servant of the Vulps of the Southwest. The tribe's toy.