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False Accusations

"This girl is a seductress!" the middle aged tod cried for all the town to hear. "She bewitched me! Seduced me! My own daughter!"

"No! Father stop!" the vixen cried back, weeping as she struggled to tear her wrist from his grasp, but he dragged her along as though she weighed nothing.

The townsfolk began gathering at the loud commotion the pair were making as the merchant fox dragged the young female towards the town square. As they neared it, the local priest appeared, rushing from the church.

"What's all this, Jacob?" the elder wolf demanded, a heavy frown creasing his brows.

"She has bewitched me," the father explained, shaking the girl in an attempt to quiet her pleas. "She must be a succubus or a witch! I could not stop myself, though I fought hard against it these many months. She drew me to her, an honest man, as you all know! A righteous man! A faithful man! Had I desire, are there not many a fine female who would lift their tail for me? Yet, nay! I have not lain with any save my own mate for these past twenty years, yet this sixteen year old whore manages to draw me from my own bed in the dead of night and into hers!"

There was a collective gasp from the crowd followed by outraged shouts and a few pieces of detritus and vegetable matter lobbed toward the girl who now cowered beside her sire.

"Well, Jacob," the father replied, "we all know well and truly that you are an honest, faithful, and righteous man, but even those of strongest will may be tempted. What has your Clara to say for herself in defense?"

"Please, Father Maxwell," she pleaded in a near whisper. "It is all lies! I have done nothing of the sort, nor ever would want to! I have been a good, pure girl, always attendant to your sermons and obedient to the Lord and my sire. I have neither truck with demons nor a compact with Satan. I know not what came over him, but I had no part in it!"

The wolf raised his hands to quiet the crowd then struck a thoughtful pose for several long moments before he spoke again. "Let us see, then. We will test your claims that you are neither seductress nor succubus. Bring her."

He strode away at a vigorous pace and she was dragged along by her father, bewildered but hopeful. Surely she had been believed, else they would have begun a witch trial already! She had been forced to watch the last one, a crone who had lived a little ways outside the town on the edge of the forest. The things they had put her through before she died had been hideous, but they had also been instantly begun. And yet Clara's heart quailed and she began to struggle once more as the crowd parted at last to let them into a wide ring that surrounded Father Maxwell where he stood beside the stocks.

"We shall test whether you are free of demonic influence in the simplest way. We shall see if these fine, honest, faithful, and righteous folk can resist your allure, young Clara."

She screamed and tried to flee but was jerked off her feet as her father threw her forward. Two of the townsmen rushed to help, stripping her, tearing her garments, ripping them from her, until she was left with naught but her fur to cover her. They dragged her still struggling to the stocks and held her head and wrists as Father Maxwell slammed it closed and locked it. Yet her imprisonment was not complete. She felt something wedge beneath her hips, a bar, preventing her from sitting or squatting. And further, her tail was grasped, a thong or cord tied tightly around the tip then to the wood of the stocks, preventing her from using it to cover herself. She was revealed to all the world and unable to do the slightest thing about it. The final piece, however, was the worst, a thick wooden dowel slid between her jaws and tied off with another leather thong, silencing her.

She hung her head and sobbed quietly, knowing her fate had been sealed when she felt fingers sliding over her heat-swollen sex.

"We have an accused temptress before us!" the Father proclaimed in his sonorous voice. "Here you see her shame bared before you! Is she an innocent? Is she pure? Are any amongst you tempted by vile thoughts?"

"Father, I must confess, I still feel the need within me," Jacob admitted. "It is like a burning that cannot be quenched. I feel I must have her."

"And I!" came a cry from the crowd. "I feel the pull of her wicked wiles, Father. I could not help myself were you not standing before me to remind me of my duty to the Lord and to my wife."

"I as well!" came another, joined by "And me!" and more and more.

"Very well, then," Father Maxwell proclaimed. "Since this seductress has bewitched you all, we shall see whether she be demon or witch. She is in her season, and a demon cannot conceive. Should she swell with child, we shall know she has made a pact with the Devil and we shall try her for her crimes against the Lord. Should she not, then we will know a pure child has been tainted by a possessing demon, and we shall exorcise her!"

"Glah! Glah!" Clara struggled to cry, shaking her head furiously, but it was to no avail.

Except, perhaps it was. Father Maxwell came to stand before her and undid the gag that held her tongue. Yet, he did not leave it free. He spread her jaws as something new was introduced, a metal ring by the taste and feel, tied tightly into place to hold her jaws open but let... things in... Father Maxwell's tented robe was pulled aside, his swelling sheath revealed with an inch of red poking free. Behind her, hands grasped her hips, something hot and pointed pressing against her nether lips. She tried to shake her head, but the wolf grasped her cheeks firmly as she looked up with a piteous gaze.

He nodded the the one behind him, no doubt her sire, and they pressed into her as one. Her scream was silenced by the shaft that rammed itself down her throat while her virginity was shattered by another plunging into her from the rear. Her eyes clenched tightly shut, the vixen choking and gagging, gasping when it was pulled free only to retch as it was rammed inwards once more. Her hind end felt like it was on fire! Her unprepared sex was stretched wide, so forcibly! Despite the lubrication of her estrus, it felt like she was being ripped in half as the male slammed into her again and again. She was jostled back and forth between them, the wood that held her slamming against her throat, bruising the exterior as the interior was ravaged.

The worst was yet to come though. She tasted blood and unwashed flesh and the coppery salt of preseminal fluid. It coated her throat, gagging her as much as the male member that plugged it. Yet, behind, the burning became another type of burning. As her body grew used to it, it began to appreciate the use it was being put to, the use it was meant for at this time of year, the use she had so struggled to keep it from. There was a pressure building, a pleasure building, a need building. And hers wasn't the only one.

She felt something wider than the shafts that filled her bumping against her lips, both front and rear. She had no idea what it was, nor what was happening. Intercourse, after all, was sinful, only to be shared between a male and his mate and never discussed. She was unaware of the bulb that formed at the base of a male canid's shaft. She was, however, quite rudely introduced to them when they were shoved into her. The Father's member was jammed into her throat as something swelled in her muzzle.

She began to panic, her air supply cut off, yet he continued to roughly ram into her. The same occurred behind, some pain returning as her entrance was stretched, the knot swelling to tie with her, yet her pleasure spiked. The continued thrusting jostled against something inside her that sent jolts of pleasure up her spine, causing her to clench around the maleness within her. Even as Father Maxwell was killing her, she felt a burst of bliss wash over her that sent tingles down her limbs and set her stomach to fluttering. She heard the wolf give out a cry, hot bursts of liquid flooding into her throat as another came from behind and warmth began to pool within her depths.

The world tinged grey, slowly fading, the tremors still running through her, as she heard her father's voice.

"She enjoyed it, Father! A whore, indeed!"

"Nay, Jacob. A succubus, indeed. Now we know: it is not her doing, but she shall need an exorcism."

Their voices sounded faint, tinny, like hearing them from the bottom of a well. She was sinking, the world spinning. Black sucked her down... down... then glorious, lovely, precious air! She gasped and heaved, strings a bile and saliva and semen hanging down from her lips as she sucked in breath after life-giving breath. And then hands grasped her muzzle, holding it open as a new ring was slipped between her jaws and tied into place.

"As this succubus has tainted you all, I feel it fair that you be allowed to exorcise yourselves of her influence, good men. Here she shall remain for a day and a night, until noon tomorrow, when I shall have prepared what I shall need to drive the demoness from her." The wolf took her cheeks in his hands again and lifted her head to look him in the eyes, smiling down at her with a fatherly smile. "Don't worry, my child. We shall free you of this influence, and all shall be well again."

Clara simply closed her eyes and let the hot tears flow from their corners. No matter that she had been innocent, she no longer was, and would never be again. No male would want her after this public display and humiliation. Who would take to mate a female who had been so thoroughly used? She would have only two choices in life: to be a whore to her father or be a whore to whatever strange males might give her coin for her use. She was ruined. Destroyed. Broken. And the day had only barely begun.