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Flakes of powdery snow drifted past the open doors leading to His grand balcony. The King of Icereach barely noticed, despite the frozen breeze that whistled through his chambers. His mind, as was customary these days, was elsewhere. He brooded quietly in his icy domain on the nature and consistency of memories. He had more than a few, after more than a score or two centuries of life.

He remembered past places in shades of grey; past associations washed with color; past loves with highlights of brilliant reds and greens and blues. That was the warp and woof of his mind on a cold winter night. To say he had other responsibilities was an understatement. Pages where piling up on his desk in the main study. The castellan needed to speak with him urgently. Requisitions needed approval. Still, turning away from the mind's eye was impossible on a night like tonight. Maybe for the better, he mused, as those very thoughts invaded his quiet.

Another noise intruded on his isolation, causing him to stretch and sit up a bit straighter. His massive hind paws spread and buried his toes in the lush carpet. His eyes swung to the door. The knock came again. When he didn't answer, the door slid tentatively open. A sleekly rounded head covered in smooth, silky brown fur edged around the heavy oak panel, small black eyes straining against the gloom. The rest of the body followed slender and graceful behind, pulling the door too with a light grunt. It disappeared in the shadows for a second or two then emerged frightfully close to the king on his throne like chair.

The reality of company, especially this company, brought him back to the world fully. He slouched back in his padded seat a bit and set his blue sky gaze on the man in front of him. They wandered casually up from the other's thick toed, webbed feet, casually tracing the slender curves of his well muscled calves and thighs. They crossed the plane of his flat stomach, tracing an imaginary line that run up a well developed chest and corkscrewed down a toned forearm. They traveled back up, locked for a moment on those small black eyes staring back, observed the tiny, hidden smile at the corner of full lips. All in all, the otter was a well formed thing, and rare in this part of the world that bore only frozen lakes and small streams seven months of the year.

"Devon," the King began, then paused, as if unsure how to continue. His brow ridge lifted, turning his heavy canine features into an almost comic caricature of confusion. A few comments longed to leave his lips, but only one won out. "You're naked."

The lithe otter quietly considered his response. As his eyebrows drew into a faint 'v', he tilted his head to one side and then the other, lips puckering in consideration. His eyes never left the striking, mottled black and white face turned towards him, but he saw quite a lot from the corners of his vision. Devon responded with a noncommittal, "So are you," and folded his hands across his hips. It was a pose specifically calculated to frame the tapering double column of his abdominals.

"This is my bedroom," the king responded, turning his gaze away. There were a lot of things on his mind, to be certain, but sex wasn't one of them.

"You sent for me," came Devon's reply, in that same factual tone.

"Six hours ago. To attend me in the library, or the study if you weren't available before dinner. I wouldn't have said you even knew how to find my room, before tonight."

"Rahn, your bedroom has been in every dirty magazine from AppleJocks to Zebra-Files. I could probably father an entire civilization with the cum spilt in this room. I told you that before I'd come here I'd spent extensive time interviewing anyone with any information on you. I know just about every facet of your body down to the bulge at the back of your knot. Finding your bedroom in your castle? Cake." The little bastard was smug. The king could smell it rolling off him in waves. He had to admit that under other circumstances, that smugness would draw his lust like an iron filling to a lodestone. Despite the ample opportunity provided, Rahn didn't feel the urge to recreate. Not tonight.

"You might as well put on a robe. We're not going to fuck." At this Devon's face quirked into a particular angle, his muzzle drawing tight against his teeth, his whiskers wavering. Very casually he slid his palms from his hips and rubbed them together. For the first time Rahn noticed the cold and thought it a peculiar thing, what one could ignore when one wanted to. Devon's breath steamed in the air but he held his place staunchly. Seeing this, the king groaned in exasperation before sliding forward out of his seat, carefully maintaining a safe distance from his randy company, and crossed the room to another door. Inside he rummaged through his extensive wardrobe for a minute, then returned with what appeared to be an unbelievable ugly pair of jogging sweats.

The otter accepted them without comment though confusion and disappointment ruled his features. The king returned to his seat and stared into space again. The moon light just beginning to filter through from the balcony caught his profile just right, blindingly white on his white fur, swallowed utterly in the ink-black patches. Devon's sojourn in Icereach, going into its second month now, had acquainted the middle aged otter with an unusually young monarch of a mostly forgotten stretch of mountains. However, in that moonlight, Devon could see the millennia of life that lurked beneath the surface. It brought on a shiver in no way related to the cold.

"I asked you here to talk," the big dane finally broke in. His voice was rough but distant. "That's what you came here for, if you were telling the truth. Not just lurking around to see if you can get in my bed, that is." He returned to the moment just enough to offer the otter a rueful smile. Devon's heart quickened; Rahn could hear it's increased beat. Likewise he could smell the excitement just starting to bleed from the smaller mammal's pores. It was plenty enough confirmation, but the other spoke up anyways.

"I came here for your story. I didn't expect it to take this long, but there it is. Why tonight?"

"Because the moon is full and the stars just right, and the snow falls softly on the mountain," the king responded enigmatically. "Most think my people originated in northern Europe. They live there, now, this is true, but it's not where we come from. I was born a slave, lowest of the low, in a place where the sands stretch from horizon to horizon..."

---

Rahn scurried through wide streets paved in hard limestone and dust, keeping to the sides of the thoroughfare and bowing deferentially to everyone that crossed his path. His threadbare clout barely covered enough to be decent in modern times, but it was all he had. Likewise his ribs showed clearly through his darkly mottled fur, a bony stack atop his hollow belly. He was no stranger to hunger, but today it gnawed painfully inside his gut like a cancer.

The voracious gnawing was drawing him home; it had given him the strength to dare an escape from work detail. As big as he was, even at his age, he'd be soon missed. But the Bitch had found food, had showed it to him this morning. It wasn't much, bread and a bit of old cheese, part of a bone with marrow in it, but it was better than nothing. If he got home before Lahn, he'd get the lion's share of the meal. The Bitch would portion it out, conserve it as best she could, but Rahn would get the largest portion. He turned a corner and found himself in the slave district. The holding pens were close.

They were also guarded. From down the way the two desert wolves were invisible, standing just inside the stoop that led down to the cages. Rahn nearly tripped over one as he readied to hop down the case, but the burly lupine shifted quickly and snagged him around the throat. Until his untimely arrival, both had their backs to the street, gazing eagerly inside. Before the muscled forearm around his neck could choke off his breathing completely, the youth caught a strong whiff in the air that made him both nervous and strangely excited.

"G're yoo," a questioning voice, thickly accented, growled in his floppy ear. Both hands reflexively grasped at the wolf's tight clench, seeking to break free. Despite how big his hands and strong his muscles he might as well have grappled a statue; malnutrition had taken its toll. The wolf shook him, as if shaking him might loosen his tongue.

"Abd!" He finally managed to gasp the word for slave as the daylight began to first flare then dim. The appendage around his throat loosened enough for him to cough out another painful word. "Home!"

The wolf slung him to arm's length and for the first time, Rahn noticed they were wearing the tunics of city guards. They had no business here; none of their cell had so much as thought rebellion. This made the dane very nervous. Then the waft of that odor blew up the stairs and he took an unnoticed step forward. He felt his face go slack as it curled inside his nostrils, straining his neck forward. The other lupine barked a cackling laugh and slapped his partner on the arm.

"Smell det, yeh? Like det, yeh?" The bigger of the two, Rahn's previous captor, exaggerated a wink back at the other guard, and lifted his big hand to the back of the young man's skull. Rahn barely heard him; something was happening in his clout, the bare cloth growing confining, binding. Suddenly, Big Wolf shoved the dane down the last two steps and flung him into the semi darkness of the cages. The scent grew utterly over whelming the further back he went, and his sensitive ears began to vibrate with new sounds, picking them out over the general bustle of hundreds of canines packed too tightly.

They were slick, wet, plopping sounds. Harsh breathing, two bodies. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump of flesh on flesh. And there were new smells, the closer he drew, no longer guided by Big Wolf's massive paw. Sweat and excitement that mingled with the overpowering primal smell. And below that, all of that, on both spectrums, shame and the sharp sadness of gentle weeping.

Rahn's pupils finally dilated properly and brought the small cell into a grey kind of focus. He could smell the Bitch, now, over everything else, and more wolf. This close, he could finally make sense of what his eyes were telling him. The Bitch knelt on all fours, facing the corner with her head lolling to one side and her mouth slightly open. Despite the wet streak running down the side of her mottled snout she wore a desperate, half there smile. High above her inviting rump, the third of the wolf guards crouched on his hind legs, pelvis pressed firmly against her sagging buttocks. Just below him, or coming from him, something gleaming and wet and slid smoothly into...

The clout was unbearable now and things clicked over a few times behind the young dane's eyes. He missed the presence hulking behind him, right up until the moment that that figure's hand reached around his waste and clenched down on the bulge trapped painfully in the cloth. Unwelcome strength yanked him nearly off his feet, grinding his tail against another hard bulge. "Yer like det, yeh, cul," Big Wolf breathed into his ear.

Biggest Wolf rocked back a final time and drove himself deep in the Bitch until the swollen gland at the base of his cock popped inside her. She moaned a horrible little sound, then flexed her thighs to better lock her mate in place. While he rode the rush of his orgasm, the lupine half cocked his head to regard Rahn lazily. "Wocher bring, Rrrl?" His voice was like leather tearing, and awfully loud. As Rrrl ground against his bottom and made his reply, Rahn quivered with his gaze locked on the Bitch. The smell was revolting now, and yet still managed to titillate.

"Ma'by desrrt yeh Gorl? Fine yer adb, yer like watchin yeh?" The dane found he could barely understand them when they spoke and perhaps didn't want to know too much. A bark at the door drew all their attentions around. First a long shadow appeared, racing down the steps. Rahn expected the other wolf, whom he monikered Tiny, but what came down those steps was far worse. Black as pitch and easily topping Rahn by a foot or more, Abuskhua the High General swept into the small cage.

The jackal that towered above everyone present was a solid slab of muscle in a sparkling white kaftans. He moved with the practiced grace of a life long warrior, always a step from violence. The veneer of calm that road his features was just that, a veneer. It was something Rahn knew as instinctively as breathing. Abuskhua surveyed the room; what he saw curled his sharply pointed muzzle down in distaste. "Guardsmen. I have a question for you. Do we mate with chattel below our station?"

Gorl was caught completely off guard by the lightning backhand that followed the high general's question. He disengaged from the Bitch with a wet pop, who shivered and cried out in pain. For now her eyes were closed, though she made no move to cover herself in the high general's presence. As if she knew what was next. Abuskhua settled calmly on his heels and answered himself. "We do not. We mate with our caste, as is proper. Is this your caste, köle? It is not."

Rrrl released every part of Rahn and moved carefully away, towards the door. He moved with the wary stealth of a man evading attention and for the nonce, it worked. The jackal regarded the dane with a subtly lifted brow, his bottomless eyes sweeping first up and then down the smaller canine. He then turned to Gorl, who'd dropped to a properly subservient knee. "I think you've interrupted this one's first mating, Gorl. It is important that they be allowed to breed and produce new workers. Do you understand this, Gorl?"

"Yer," the wolf agreed immediately. He barely glanced up at the jackal and offered him a week smile.

Abuskhua's head swung back to Rahn, freezing the dane in place. "Go," the high general offered, though it was no offer but a command, "Mate the bitch with my blessing." He turned to leave, but Rahn remained frozen with fear. The jackal turned back and motioned impatiently for Gorl to scurry out. He cleared his throat and leveled his gaze on the youth. "Mate the bitch and may you have many strong litters."

"No!" The word burst out of his mouth before he could stop it. Once it was out, however, Rahn found his body free to move. Just as he was rocking forward to launch himself on the Bitch, wrap her body with his own and protect her from anything, the jackal's paw shot out and grabbed him by the collar. "I won't," the dane yipped, even as he was thrown on his back beneath his massive canine master.

"You won't?" Abuskhua raged, his veneer broken. Fast as the previous backhand had been, Rahn found himself unprepared for the next that streaked comets across his vision. Then the paw returned in a stunning clap across his chin. All went black.

He came around again in the roughest way possible, with a gnarled fist clutching his nape.

Abuskhua curled his paw around the handful of Rahn's nape and pulled fiercely on the youth's scruff. The maneuver forced Rahn's head back at an awkward angle that caused him to yip in surprise and pain. The jackal stared down on his prey with barely concealed distaste. Rahn expected angry words or perhaps a hard slap, but when he dared a glance up into Abuskhua's eyes, his heart went cold and the breath caught in his throat.

"You're going to serve me today, abd," Abuskhua pronounced in a normal tone of voice. The weather is fine, the wine is sweet, and you will serve me today, abd. "When you are done serving me, you will serve my generals. We to war in the morning and I will not have them distracted. Come with me." The jackal didn't loosen his grip on Rahn's neck; instead, he stood to his full height and brought the dane with him. Rahn yipped again, his big, emaciated face screwed up in pain, as he was yanked to his feet.

Abuskhua led to the slave to another room, more plain than the one in which he'd awoken. As the linen cloth was stripped aside, the youth balked and struggled, but found no purchase on the tiled floor. His ragged toenails clicked against the smooth surface, fighting to keep away. It fetched him a stinging slap from his master, one that combined with his constant hunger and previous abuse to leave him dizzy and dazed. He didn't fight much after that but his rage and confusion screamed silently inside his skull.

A braided leather cord hung from the ceiling, dangling above a small drain in the floor. Abuskhua led him to this, never loosening his grip, and pulled on the length of hide. A cunning knot had been looped through the braid, forming a sliding noose that pulled tight enough to virtually disappear. The jackal shoved Rahn's head into this loop and cinched the knot tight. The young slave felt the pressure closing around his windpipe and held still.

Sharp, manicured nails dug into his clout, leaving a trio of red marks beneath the fur. With a sharp tug, the dark furred canine ripped it free. Rahn whimpered and shivered despite the baking heat and nervous sweat popped out across the pads of his feet and hands. Abuskhua watched him for the beginnings of an eternity, cold and calculating. Then he turned in his meticulous white kaftan, clapped his hands, and left the room.

The dark furred cur bitch summoned by her master's clap had the air of long suffering cruelty about her. She had to be the fattest slave Rahn had ever seen, and that alone caused him to gape in wonder. Her pointed chin rested atop a stack of rolling wattles, jiggling with every heavy step. The dark amber eyes above that chin were uninterested, professional, and indifferent to a fellow captive's suffering. She carried with her a bucket and a harsh looking brush.

She stopped in front of him and regarded the canine in silence. He followed her with his eyes, pleading and desperate. This she ignored. In place of freedom, she offered Rahn a sip from a bucket which he gladly took. Then the cur bitch upended the bucket over his head and set it down. The captive dane spluttered and spat, then growled fiercely, stirring some resistance in his breast. This she also ignored. Her hand wrapped around the stiff bristled brush, the cur began working up a lather from a lye stone. When she was finished preparing, she set to work cleaning Rahn from snout to foot paws.

The brush was surprisingly comfortable despite its appearance. The stiff bristles worked beneath his fur and lifted up years of grime and grit. Though it scoured his skin a brilliant shade of red, he relaxed marginally under the grooming. As it tickled his belly, he felt a faint stirring; the blood began seeping from his head, traveling lower and pooling in his crotch. His manhood stirred again, plumping up in its sheath. Just as it was beginning to peek it's pointed head out, the damned woman brought her brush down across those most sensitive areas and drew a stung howl from the bound canine. The harsh lye soap burned against his nuts like a bonfire and he immediately began to beg for the water again. Her deft hands grabbed him by the base of his tale, brought the scrub brush around again, and scoured his pink star clean.

When she was satisfied with her job, the cur woman left for a moment to fetch more filled buckets. She doused Rahn liberally, just as thorough in her rinsing as she was in her scrubbing. The dane stood with his arms suspended, panting and stinging and thorough humiliated. A towel was applied, ruffling the fur from his shoulders down. When the tension on the ropes slacked, Rahn collapsed mercifully, trying to regain his dignity to some degree. She didn't let him rest for long; displaying surprising strength, the cur bitch took the ropes between her paws and led the youth into an adjoining room. She left him there to marvel at the well appointed space, comfortably heated by a small fire in the corner. Very light furniture decorated the room, save for a small dais supporting a large, throne like chair, situated oddly close to the far wall and turned away from him.

"Come here," a familiar voice commanded. Abuskhua's arm appeared from behind the chair back, the thick fingers on his hand curling into a fist. Rahn hesitated. "Now!" The voice whipped across the room, carrying an undeniable weight of command. The dane whimpered and whined but obeyed. He crossed the floor on wobbly knees, the roaring fire pimpling his palms with sweat. When his head craned around the obstruction of the chair back, the jackal reached out and snagged Rahn by his scruff. The youth loosed another yip in surprise and shock before being dragged roughly around and planted facing the wall. The contact with the unyielding stone blinded him momentarily with a single red flash but already Abuskhua's hands were at work.

"Listen to me well, abd, and you might live. Disobey and I will kill you out of hand. Do you understand?" The jackal leaned forward in his seat, one paw splayed across the center of Rahn's midback, pressing him against the wall. The other roughly spread his feet apart then yanked his tail up, revealing the dane's freshly scrubbed nether bud. Rahn's eyes rolled back into his head, threatening either a falling spell or a fresh burst of tears. Abuskhua's thick thumb trailed casually down the base of the slave's tail and almost gently caressed the tender star beneath. If there was any pleasure in it for Rahn, it was drowned in fear and humiliation. Still, he nodded his understanding quickly enough.

"We to war, tomorrow. Tonight I call a counsel of my generals. We will discuss things which you will ignore and forget. Do you understand?" That same insistent tone, brooking no arguments. Again Rahn nodded in assent, pressing his forehead against the surprisingly cool stone. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to be anywhere else but here. "You're going to pleasure me, and when I am done with you, you will pleasure my generals." This time, the jackal didn't ask for understanding. Rahn felt the other's paw leave his backside, followed by a soft 'plop' that reminded the dane unpleasantly of getting his feet stuck in the mud. Then the larger canine's paw returned and with it came the most excruciating pain the slave had ever felt, bar none.

Covered in some sort of thick grease, the jackal's thumb jammed itself into Rahn's tail hole and explored it fully. Instinctively he clenched and tried to draw away, but that made the pain worse and besides, with the jackal's paw pressing between his shoulder blades he had no where to go. Instead he wriggled and writhed and dripped tears on the porous barrier in front of him, choking down his sobs as well he could. The hard, unyielding digit in his rear pressed deeper with it's load of grease. A part of Rahn's mind registered that that digit was entirely without a nail, and some small part of him thanked the God's above. Then the invader was gone and in it's place a ghostly stinging sensation.

"When I am done with you," Abuskhua mused thoughtfully, "I'll turn you over to my generals. It is impossible to think with manseed in your brain." Big hands gripped the dane's waist and pulled him slowly backwards. He risked a look over his shoulder that fetched him a stinging backhand but not before he got a good look at the male intent on despoiling him. The massive inky canine seemed to loom, even in his seat, hard black eyes betraying no glimmer of anything resembling compassion. Even worse, rising above the stacked column of his impressive ribs was one of the biggest pricks he'd ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on. That was when he began to fight in earnest, like his life was on the line and the threads were breaking.

It didn't matter. Uttering a feral growl, the jackal sprang from his seat while his fists found Rahn's scruff again and slammed him against the wall hard enough for the slave to see stars. The pain and surprise shook the fight from him and then he knew he'd lost. The slave master's cock, hot, slick and pointed, pressed against his rear, then invaded and defiled his virginity with a single push. The dane opened his mouth to howl, but Abuskhua's massive paw was already there, clamping around his snout and forcing Rahn to breath through his nose. The invasion didn't stop with just the tip. On the same stroke, the jackal sunk himself into the dane until his knot was pressed firmly against the stretched bud beneath the spotted tail.

Now that he'd found a sheath for his tool, the jackal relaxed again. That's not to say he eased his grip on Rahn's scruff any, but the tension went out of his legs and his rough voice mellowed. "This is as far as you will take me. Do you understand this, abd? I have released my seed with my bitch once today and will not waste it on you. Do not let me come out. Do not take my knot. Do you understand, abd?" As if sensing what little resistance remained in his victim, Abuskhua curled his fist cruelly into the young canine's flesh. He barked out a gasped, "Yes!" The vice relaxed and Rahn was assaulted by two sensations at once.

As the jackal resumed his seat, his hand drawing away from Rahn's neck to settle in a proprietary fashion on the dane's hip, Abuskhua's throbbing cock withdrew down the greased passageway. The sense of being emptied made the dane's knees quake; at the same time, the pressure backing off his prostate made the glad swell and shoot an electric shock up his spine. To keep his balance, Rahn forced his eyes closed and concentrated on staying very, very still. He needn't have worried about his master slipping free. Even seated, enough of the fleshy rod remained planted inside Rahn to stretch his hole painfully. The jackal barked a command over his shoulder, one the dane refused to register.

"Begin, abd," Abuskhua ordered, and it was an order. His tone had changed, even the calm veneer seemed deeper, thicker. A whiff of husky male odor, not the spicy scent of his master, alerted Rahn to several new presences. He'd not even heard them, but he was sorely distracted at the moment. Blinking through the mist he opened his eyes and wished he hadn't, for the sight that greeted him only spelled pain. Abuskhua's paw clamped on his hip, reminding him of his business by pulling him straight back and down. Rahn didn't have to look back to know that that feral face would be frowning his displeasure. The dane summoned all his strength, swallowed all his self respect, and used the wall as a prop to force himself down on the high general's prick.

Stopping at the knot proved easy; pulling away again more challenging. While he was momentarily at a loss, the jackal began speaking words his toy refused to acknowledge. It was clear now he was talking strategy. At the same time, he shifted in his seat and smoothly drew in the dane's legs until Rahn could brace against the high seat's posts. Immediately more of the pressure eased and the young canine pushed himself back off the rapist with a sigh of relief. He dared a glance to the left again.

Abuskhua's generals were remarkably similar considering they'd whelped by different bitches. Each were of middling height for their ancient breed; that is to say, each was a match for Rahn's considerable height. They bore the musculature of life-long warriors, hard and scarred. They each watched the scene before them with a peremptory sort of interest, the one to the far left with his head slightly cocked to one side. Had he been in a clearer state of mind, the dane would have noticed a wicked scar running just inside the cup of the downturned ear. Rahn swallowed past a lump in his throat, shed another burning tear, and pressed his forehead against the cool stone again.

The jackal spoke for some time, laying a complicated battlefield in the minds of his warriors. Through this Rahn rode the slave master as slow as he dared, until the violent burning simmered to a mild sting and his prostate no longer felt like a bruised fruit. The rape was far too invasive to stiffen his own rod, but the other mild tingling, the one climbing his spine, at least kept him from sobbing uncontrollably. The hand on his hip pulled him to a halt. Abuskhua asked a question of his generals. One answered in a high, barking voice. "Excellent. Spill your seed, then go to your tasks." The jackal's palm slid around Rahn's midback, then exerted compelling force. As Rahn's belly was pressed against the wall he felt his master sloop out of him and uttered a small sigh of relief. He knew it was short lived, but he was forced into the worst situation imaginable. He took what he could get. Then the jackal's paw closed on his neck again, propelling him toward the trio of veterans.

The young dane sagged to his knees in the middle of a circle of hardening pricks. As their hands worked their sheaths with eerie unity, the three hulking males eyed Rahn with a species of disdain and animal need. He lowered his eyes, utterly submissive. Each and any could break his spine with a blow, a fact he was well aware of. He also sensed that any of the three would do it with the slightest provocation; slaves were expendable and warriors must be ready. The middle one of the trio took him first.

Though the beast wasn't nearly as equipped as his high general, his ferocity and utter lack of empathy broke the slave. Rahn's body began to shiver and then shudder, and then the sobs came. With it came a fierce clenching of his muscles down below, attempting to force the intruder out. The jackal snarled with pleasure and redoubled his efforts. The dane cried out again in pain and bit his tongue. With a deep whuff, the general blew his load; the slave felt it like a burst of water sloshing around in his bowels. Then the prick was gone, leaving a roaring pain behind.

Whatever control he retained after that was sorely bested by his next rapist. Fast on the heels of the first general, the second gripped his thumping rod, gripped the base of Rahn's tale, and forced the tip deep. Through his sobbing the youth uttered a barky cough and buried his muzzle in his slender arms while the monster pounded away on his rear. Whatever pleasant tingle he'd initially felt was utterly consumed by the painful rips and tears burning with spent semen. The invader slammed against his prostate so painfully Rahn started seeing the hazy purple spots that came with extreme hunger. Before they could fully form, harsh claws grabbed him under the chin and yanked him up on his arms again.

The third general snaked his fingers around Rahn's maw and forced it open, then filled the space with his need. The digits curled around his teeth, stretching his jaw painfully, while number three tickled the back of his throat. Salty drops of precum ran down the cock in his mouth, coating his tongue. It triggered an instinctive urge to lap and swallow. Immediately he gagged on the meat, but the jackal wouldn't let him back off. Hazy though his brain was, Rahn heard a husky voice cry out petulantly. "Wait your turn," it barked, accompanied by the snapping of teeth like a steel trap.

One of the paws in his mouth slipped away with frightening speed, the fleshy ramrod soon after. Rahn heard the thump of flesh on flesh, followed by a throaty "Hurk!" His head skewed to the side and for a moment he caught a glimpse of Abuskhua, resting casually in his high seat. His body language spoke of ease, but even the dane could tell he was watching closely. Suddenly the pounding on his rear picked up it's pace and Rahn swung his head around again. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the generals locked together. The one with the cocked head gripped the one slamming into the dane by the throat, his toothy grin feral and dangerous. The one so gripped panted eagerly for breath, even as he bred the lax hole beneath him. Being choked had an effect the warrior didn't seem to expect; his cum pounded out of him so suddenly the look on his face switched from startled to bemused. He barely had time to paint the youth's insides before Rahn felt himself pulled bodily off the beast and flung face first to the ground.

For the first time in his life, Rahn prayed. He prayed that his last tormenter would finish soon. He prayed that he would find a place to curl up and die quietly later. But most of all, he prayed that this time the pain would go away. The last general grabbed his exposed rump, split it roughly with his powerful palms, and proved the power of prayer for the dane. The young man found out immediately and to his regret that the last was the biggest of the three. The jackal wasted no time in plugging his captive and forcing him against the floor. His rutting was as vicious as the first, his intent to cause harm. Rahn was turned to face Abuskhua directly now. The high general had risen from his seat, but still appeared to laze. His cock had slunk back in its sheath and showed no sign of reappearing. While Rahn was noting these things, the general behind him took advantage of his distraction. A new pain trembled through the slave's body as the male dominant forced his obscenely swollen knot inside the bleeding rectum.

The high general swept down off his dais like thunder over the plains, no longer lax but taught as a bowstring. If the under general even noticed his coming he didn't have time to react. While he was busy trying to tease his knot from Rahn's rear, the bigger jackal swept a hand across his throat. Metal gleamed. The wealth of blood that sprayed from nicked arteries created a red fountain that drenched the dane's fur, dying it a startling red. Immediately the lump under his tail deflated, then slid out with a wet plop. The rapist collapsed across his back, the rolled to the side. Rahn gazed up in horror but Abuskhua wasn't even looking his way and darkness, blessed uncurious, was falling across his field of vision. "Look to your own, next time, Bakash," the high general's rough voice swam in his ears. "Marh was the one that betrayed y-..." Then Rahn spiraled down, down, down.

Awareness returned slowly, even after his eyes were open. At first he only took note of the strange smells; almost certainly ground herbs and spices, but in a great profusion. He'd never come across so many scents in his life, let alone all in the same room. Then his body spoke, and with a great, thundering cry. He hurt, everywhere but especially down there, where his rear felt ruined and swollen. Even worse, it felt as if one of those bastards (for now that he was himself again, he could measure some sort of defiance) was still in there, hard and demanding. He tried to roll over on his stomach and lessen the pain, but couldn't. He was too weak to lift his arms. He felt like crying again, his eyes starting to mist.

"I was right," a voice spoke from behind him, causing Rahn to yelp and cower at the same time. "You did survive." The voice wasn't Abuskhua's, as he'd first thought. In fact, it couldn't be more different. The tone was silky and smooth, almost purring... And after a minute, the youth realized it was purring. He smelled the wafty aroma of feline and realized it didn't just come from the man behind him but from everywhere. A slender form drifted around the curve of the dane's head, easily as tall as Rahn himself. The man wore a ragged brown robe and a full hood, but it was pulled back off his forehead and clearly revealed strong leonine features. He appeared to be in the middle of his life, until Rahn focused on his sad, ancient eyes.

"You'll need to eat, soon, and I'm afraid I have nothing to share. Food is expensive, and I barely scrape by for myself. When you can stand, we can take the poultice out. If you've made it this far, no infection will ever trouble you again."

Words that should mean something to the dane, but the enormity of his violation began to settle in. He cried then for a long while, wept and sobbed. Not from pain, which had mostly faded to a memory. Shame, regret, anger... All complex emotions that bubbled up within him and drained from his eyes. The salty drop left white runnels in his blood stained fur. The stranger, his savior, he presumed, allowed this in silence. He left the room for a while, left Rahn with his grief. When he returned some time later, the dane was tapped out. He felt like trying to stand, and could think of nothing better than returning to his litter mates. The lion offered him his hand, steadied the slave on his feet, then reached behind him. Rahn flinched instinctively away and the stranger froze.

"That poultice will need to come out," he spoke calmly, catching the canine's eye and nodding. Rahn suddenly realized what the man was talking about. It explained the feeling under his tail because something was still there. He gulped and nodded. The lion reached down, gripped the object, and carefully slid it out. The dane shivered as he had under Abuskhua's palm, then let out a relieved hiss. His tender put the object away quickly, sparing Rahn the sight of it.

"Now I will walk you home. You will tell no one where I came from," the feline asserted, placing his arm around his charge's shoulders and guiding him to the door. The males pushed through the cheap cloth hanging and Rahn emerged into a late dusk, the sun selling purple shadows to the sky. He glanced at the lion, winced as his foot came down wrong, then the two began to hobble along up the dirt path between hovels. The dane recognized the ghetto, it was one not far from home. The lion led him through twisted streets unerringly and soon came to the slave pens. No one was outside on the block to welcome him, or even watching from the darkness of the sunken stairs. Rahn wasn't sure if he felt sadness or relief at this. While he was distracted, the lion disengaged himself and turned hurriedly away.

Rahn spun on his back paws as quickly as he could manage and barked out a hoarse, "Wait!" The other turned to regard him sharply for a moment, then lifted his paws, palms out in a pacifying gesture. "We'll meet again, young slave. I have no doubt. After all, we have eternity, now. Make sure to eat, and soon." Cryptic words, and with that he disappeared down the street. The dane sniffled, then turned gingerly back around and made to descend to the cage he shared with his littermates. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, suddenly awe struck. A basket waited there. From it rose the smell of cooked meat and fresh baked wheat. Around the edges lingered the fading scents of old cur bitch.