FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

WARNING: This story is about the protagonist's will being broken down by the bad guys, which involves a lot of rape and violence. I think there will be one more part before the end, so I hope you enjoy seeing cute, fuzzy things get abused/broken as much as I do, because there's going to be more.

Synne lay on her side, knees curled to her chest, shivering with impotent rage, tears shining in her eyes. Her arms had been tied behind her back and the ropes bit into her flesh, tugging at the wolverine's fur.

But the discomfort there was trivial compared to the rest of the hurts that had been inflicted upon her, the cuts and bruises that covered her frame, the aching sting that throbbed between her legs in time with her heartbeat, reminding her of the endless humiliations she had suffered.

The soldiers had used her periodically throughout the night, sometimes in groups, other times in a less urgent, more solitary fashion, making sure every bit of their desire was unloaded into her.

They were slightly more subdued now, gathered around the dying campfire for their breakfast, eyes moving occasionally over her bound form. For a moment she thought they were going to leave her alone, but the wolf stood casually up and strolled over, enjoying the growing look of terror and rage that ignited in the wolverine's eyes as he approached.

Synne snarled, in the back of her throat. Though she knew something bad would probably happen to her for daring attempt even this small resistance, she knew she had to show that she still wasn't broken, they might have taken her innocence, but they hadn't destroyed her.

The wolf put his boot onto Synne's shoulder and rolled her flat onto her back, the wolverine's legs holding over her stomach and chest for a moment before trembling and falling away, her aching muscles too weak for even that tiny act of protection to be viable.

"You know," the wolf said, "I was thinking we could keep her." Though he was ostentatiously speaking to his fellows, his eyes remained locked on Synne, gauging her reaction.

Synne, though she tried to glare and remain entirely angry, was unable to keep a flash of terror from entering her expression. She took as deep a breath as she could manage, ribs and stomach protesting, sending spasms of pain through her.

"You know the rules," the jackal said, "spies and saboteurs go to Lord Hart."

"...Especially Church devotees." Sighed the mink, clearly unhappy.

"Well..." The fox piped up, "we wouldn't have to keep her forever. Maybe just another day." His eyes moved hopefully over to the lion, who seemed to be mulling the problem over, but he said nothing, just stirred at the embers with a stick.

Emboldened, the wolf nodded slowly, a smirk coming across his face as he knelt down in front of Synne, one paw fondling a brown furred breast, the other working at undoing the front of his pants.

Synne tried to kick, but her effort was clumsy and the wolf caught her legs, forcing them apart, the wolverine's eyes filling with tears as she was taken once more. Behind the wolf she could see the sun beginning to rise, coloring the horizon with streamers of red and orange.

The lion watched as the wolf bent over her, pumping his length into the bound wolverine's cum streaked pussy, gaze dispassionate and vaguely thoughtful.

"We have to take her back," he said at last, the wolf pausing in his violation to look pleadingly at his commander, Synne taking the opportunity to drag in a shivery breath, pain searing between her legs where the wolf's thick shaft had stretched her open, "...but nobody said we couldn't take our time."

The caveat seemed to cheer the soldiers, who nodded favorably. Even the wolf didn't seem too disheartened, though he began shoving into her with renewed vigor, determined to get every last bit of use from the wolverine that he could.

The soldiers packed their gear slowly, the wolf reaching down to squeeze his knot with one paw as he came into the wolverine. Synne trembled in place, eyes squeezed shut, fresh heat blooming in between her legs, canine seed dripping out past her sable folds.

The mink had her next, flipping Synne onto her front and pushing his length into her tail-hole, the wolverine trying and failing to suppress a whimper as the mink molded himself against her back, paws moving around to squeeze her breasts, hips jackhammering against her round rear. The mink was the smallest of the soldiers, but his cock still felt like a rod of white hot steel as it split her abused hole open again and again.

After he was done, withdrawing to spray his load under her fluffy, black furred tail, Synne just took deep breaths, trying not to sob.

None of the others moved to take another turn, not then. Instead they finished packing their gear, then stood up, in full armor once more, prepared for a patrol. Or...

No. They were taking her to the castle. To Lord Hart.

Synne whimpered deep in her throat, a tear cutting through the fur under one eye. The divine and the Church suddenly seemed very, very far away.

It took the soldiers longer to haul her through the ruins than it should have. For one, her legs would barely support her. Even with one of the soldiers holding her by the arm, Synne could only hobble, stooped and sagging, every bit of her trembling with the mere effort of staying upright. They left her armor behind, scattered in the dust where they'd thrown it the previous night, but the lion kept her sword.

Synne kept her eyes focused on it and the sun sigil printed upon the pommel. Bright, vengeful images of revenge flashed through her mind. She could shove the man next to her away, get her sword and slash the lion's throat. She could...

No.

She couldn't.

She was too weak. Too beaten. If she so much as reached for her blade, she'd be stopped with contemptuous ease and then beaten some more. She knew that.

The other element to the glacial pace of their journey was the lion's casual decree that they needn't hurry. And the soldiers took full advantage of that, stopping every so often, whenever Synne's pace grew too slow for their liking, leaving the trembling wolverine filled or marked with new streaks of cum by the time they got going again.

The numbness was beginning to drop over her again, Synne staring hard at the ground as she was tugged forward through the destruction. There was the outer wall of the Adversary's castle up ahead, but she couldn't bear to look at it. Once she went past it, something told her, she would be well and truly trapped.

But wasn't she already?

At one point she attempted to fight back, biting the wolf's wrist when he tried to force her to open her mouth and let him fuck her muzzle, but he slammed her down into the dirt and left her wheezing there as he nursed the wound she'd left, crimson droplets rolling down the length of his fingers.

The jackal smirked, clearly amused.

"Bitch..." The wolf muttered darkly, glaring daggers at Synne, who lay on her side, trying to get her shocked lungs to inflate once more. Dark spots swirled at the corners of her eyes but still she could feel a wild vengeful glee swirling through her.

Now if she could do that four more times, she thought she'd be-

The jackal took a casual step forward and put the tip of his boot into Synne's stomach, folding the wolverine in two with an agonized whoosh of breath. She tried to shriek, to scream, anything to express just how badly it hurt, but her air was gone once more. All she could manage was an ugly, dry sounding croak.

When she was finished spasming on the ground, the jackal hauled her into a sitting position and pushed her back against a wall of stone and packed dirt, twisting her ear with one paw until she whimpered and opened her mouth, tears coming to her eyes.

This time she didn't resist when they made to use her muzzle.

Synne could still taste the jackal's seed on her tongue when they reached the gate, the ugly flavor mingled with blood, though she wasn't sure if it was hers or the wolf's.

The gate of the outer wall was tall and grand, tar sealed wood girded with great iron bands. It had to be at least twenty feet tall, the wall itself twice that height, and built thick enough to resist trebuchet and even cannon. Not that any could be hauled within range, not over terrain as rough as that they'd just passed over.

She sagged against the fox, who was holding her arm, too weak and hurt to properly stand on her own. As she watched through half lidded eyes, the lion stepped forward and held up her blade, late morning sunlight flashing from the sigil on its pommel.

"We bring a prisoner for Lord Hart!" He called, and a moment later the iron portcullis in front of the gate began to raise, followed by the gate itself. It rumbled open, borne by a half dozen armored men, all of whom paused momentarily at the sight of her, immediately recognizing just what she was.

The lion smirked, leading Synne past them, the mink stepping quickly forward to take the wolverine's other arm, determined not to be left out of the picture.

"No way..." Synne heard one of the armored men say disbelievingly.

"Lucky bastards are gonna get sanctum duty for a month." Muttered someone else. But they turned their noses up at the lion, too jealous for words.

And then they were past and...

...And in the middle of what looked like an ordinary city. There were shops and houses and what looked to be a market going on. Synne could see traders from the far south, probably hailing from more godless kingdoms that weren't under the sway of the Church and the divine. She felt a momentary flash of hatred for them, trading with the Adversary, but couldn't summon up the energy to maintain it.

There were people too, and they swirled curiously around the soldiers as they advanced, taking a good look at Synne, who grimaced and shut her eyes, shoulders hunching as she was paraded naked and humiliated through along the street.

Jeers rose as they continued, Synne's ears going flat. This was the heart of the enemy, the very seat of degeneracy. The people here were doomed, destined to be incinerated by the divine, but she couldn't take much comfort in that. She was stuck in the middle of it too.

The people were dressed so lewdly too, the women exposed their midriffs and breasts, or even wore nothing at all. An antelope paused in a doorway, wreathed in a halo of incense smoke, a leash leading to the collar of a svelte and very naked male jaguar held delicately between two fingers. She smirked at Synne, then blew her a kiss.

Synne shivered in revulsion, eyes darting wildly around her, appalled by the depths of degenerate decadence that surrounded her. Shops sold skimpy clothing and pornographic materials, whores plied their trade openly in the streets and even as she watched she could see more than a few people staring, open in their arousal, all but calling to be allowed to use her on the spot.

The soldiers ignored all of this and continued on, perfectly casually. This was simply a morning stroll to them, Synne realized, and felt all the sicker and more despondent for it.

There would be no good, godly people in a place like this. No help forthcoming. She was completely on her own.

Then the lion was slowing. For a moment Synne was confused, they were nowhere near the inner keep, were they going to pull her into an alleyway and use her again? But the soldiers kept to the streets...and suddenly they were passing a large cobble square lined with little raised stages, a crowd of people filtering slowly between them.

It took Synne a moment to realize what was happening, then the bottom dropped out of her stomach. There were perhaps a dozen naked figures on each stage, one or two standing up front, the rest kept back in a neat line, fidgety and jittering. Some were bound with leather straps or chains, others stood free yet completely still.

Slaves, Synne thought sickly. She was staring at a slave auction.

The lion glanced back at her as they made a slow arc towards the nearest stage, Synne's shoulders hunching. Was she to be put up for sale? Surely not...no, they were taking her to Lord Hart. For a strange, confused moment she actually hoped that they were. Coming face to face with the Adversary had to be better than being reduced to some nameless, naked thing, value reduced to however much coin could be traded for her very being.

A young lynx girl, naked but for a blue velvet collar around her neck, stood at the edge of the nearest stage, an appreciable crowd gathered to watch her sale. Most of the people present were spectators, simply there to ogle the goods and perhaps daydream a little.

Next to the lynx was a sleekly muscled Doberman. He turned the slave around, so she was facing away from the audience, and bent her over, the lynx going along with the movement with a faint shivery purr, her stubby tail lifting as the Doberman spread her tight cheeks, letting the crowd get a good look at the kitty's delicate slit and tight, perhaps even virgin, tail-hole.

Letting out a shivery breath, the lynx darted a paw between her thighs and spread the lips of her pussy open, exposing the rosy pinkness within, clear beads of moisture wetting the fur on her fingers in an instant.

She stared back into the crowd, eyes wide, whiskers trembling and little pink nipples achingly erect.

"Please buy me," the lynx begged, alight with insatiable lust, "...I'll be a good kitten, I swear."

The bidding began with gusto, the lynx girl's hips wiggling, the Doberman squeezing her rear, not so accidentally causing the lynx's fingers to slip into her sodden slit. The feline gasped and nearly collapsed, trembling with barely contained ecstasy.

Even from where she was, Synne could see the lynx's eyes, her pupils constricted to tiny black slits. She'd been drugged, no doubt about that.

The wolverine stared down at the cobble under her paws as they continued, struggling to keep her tears at bay, panic welling up within her, dark and poisonous. What she wanted more than anything was to try and run, but that was purely instinct driven, the parts of her brain still trading in logic reminded her that she would be caught within a dozen paces, even if she did manage to twist free of the men holding her arms.

And then they were at the gates to the inner keep. The wall here wasn't quite as tall as the outer one, but it was still clearly built thick. The Adversary clearly didn't plan on giving up even if his enemies made it this far.

They stepped through, the lion grinning now, a strut entering his step. There were armored men here too, but they, unlike the guards at the outer gate, wore blue capes that hung down to their ankles, made of thick, velvety fabric.

The guards ignored her, nodding politely at the lion when he showed them her sword, but leaving Synne entirely alone. This wasn't out of courtesy, she realized as she was tugged past, but rather a sense of almost complacent boredom. She wasn't anything special to these men, she realized.

The implications of that were...concerning.

Synne forced herself to look ahead and scout out the terrain. The sight took her by surprise. It was...grass and hedges and stone walkways for a distance of perhaps a hundred yards before they ran up against the stone walls of a final building, a grand fortified stone manor she assumed had to be the Adversary's sanctum.

It was a stately building, but the places where decorative carvings had once been were scraped clean and left empty, filled with birds nests and other natural fodder instead. Synne could hear their songs from where she was, mingling with the burble of water from the fountains, the muted bustle of the city outside the inner keep and...

Oh.

It was faint, but she could hear moans and grunts, her ears twitching, shoulders hunching as she picked up the noises of debauchery echoing from a dozen different spots around the gardens. The hedges were thick and labyrinthine enough that she couldn't see much of anything for more than a few dozen yards, but they'd clearly been arrayed in such a way that the people in the sanctum could easily see everything from the upper floors, cover radiating away from the manor.

The lion smiled fondly as he pushed Synne forward, the wolverine wincing, nearly losing her footing. He'd clearly been here before, even if some of his men hadn't. Synne could see the fox and mink glancing around, almost entranced, like kids taken on a surprise trip to the candy store.

The main path that led straight from the wall surrounding the inner keep to the front door of the Adversary's sanctum was wide and smooth, Synne proceeding as slowly as she could, dreading the thought of what lay behind the steel sheathed double doors marking the boundary of the manor.

They were flanked by caped guards, stone faced and utterly unfazed by...

Synne blinked hard, caught off guard once more.

They were passing a stone bench lined with cushions, perhaps ten feet long, set just behind a little wading pool. In the pool frolicked a pair of naked does, twins, their bodies slim and willowy, chests flat but for the tiny, aroused poke of hard onyx nipples, fluffy tails raised. They trembled with excitement, exploring each other's bodies with nervous, barely hesitant abandon, mouths locked, allowing only the tiniest of moans to escape.

On the bench was a tigress, entirely nude, her armor stacked neatly next to her. She lay on her side, gaze fixed on the does, a slowly gathering look of predatory intent percolating behind her amber eyes.

The lion grinned at the sight of her, waving casually. The tigress' eyes raised, fixing on the Church sword her comrade held for a moment before she offered him a respectful nod, sharp white teeth exposed in a little grin.

"Congratulations," she called, eyes lingering on Synne for a worrying moment before returning to the lion, "...come see me once you're done."

The lion nodded vigorously, then was pulling the wolverine along with renewed vigor, Synne wincing, trying to drag her feet but failing. Passive resistance was failing,and anything more would only result in her being hurt.

Synne knew she couldn't be in any worse shape than she already was if she was to face down the Adversary.

The guards at the sanctum doors examined the Church sword, then admitted the lion and Synne, keeping the other soldiers outside. For a moment Synne was relieved by this, surely it meant that the odds were somewhat bettered, but even as that thought flashed through her mind, she knew that she was way too deep in for simple numerical odds to even be a factor.

Even if she'd had a dozen other devotees on her side, she wouldn't have much liked her odds just walking into the Adversary's home. And now it was just her, bruised and battered and violated, more staggering than walking, trembling like a leaf.

The lion walked forward, following a wide hallway to a gilt door at the end, flanked by yet more guards. They opened the door without comment, admitting them to...

...Hmm. The room they were in was perfectly round, walled floor to ceiling with bookshelves for much of its circumference, the rest given over to a single simple wooden doorway. Synne's paws sank into plush carpeting, a pure, untarnished white.

In the center of the room, under the gentle sunlit glow of an overhead skylight, was a simple padded throne, meant for a royal. It carried no decorations, no seal or regalia, but the quality of craftsmanship was apparent and Synne could feel power baking off of it. Many important decisions had been made from this chair.

And then there was a man stepping out from behind it, seeming to materialize from the faint shadows that gathered there. Synne jolted backwards, heart clenching, the lion standing firm, though she felt his paw shiver against her bicep for just a split second.

Then he was kneeling, dragging her down with him. Synne winced as the lion's claws dug into her arm and she was dragged to the ground, falling half onto her side, legs spilling out from under her.

For a moment she was struck dumb by the situation, then, because it was the only thing left to do, she began to pray. It was quietly, hardly more than under her breath, but the lion could clearly hear it.

So could Lord Hart.

He was an elk, a coat of thick brown fur, so dark it was nearly black, covering his body, antlers spreading over top of his head. They'd been trimmed, each prong capped with silver, but the spread of bone was still impressive, Synne could count eight points, four on each side.

Lord Hart was tall and strong looking, a hint of muscle tone present beneath the fur on his arms. He wore a simple tunic, somehow Synne had been expecting robes. Her prayer stuttered to a halt as the elk's eyes found her, dark and intelligent, but without a hint of kindness to them.

"A devotee," he noted, attention shifting to the lion, "it's a rare treat to have the Church come directly to us."

"Yes, my Lord." The lion said, still stuck in his kneel, paw locked around Synne's arm.

"You may rise," Lord Hart said, "and let go of her arm, I want to see her stand on her own."

The lion obeyed, taking a tiny step away from Synne as the wolverine staggered upright again, breathing hard. She curled her lip at the elk, fighting past the fear that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. If she could show him that she wasn't afraid-

She caught sight of the lion's fist flashing forward out of the corner of her vision but was too slow to dodge it, pulling only partially back before he cracked her across the face, Synne's head snapped to the side, a bolt of stinging pain erasing all other sensation for a confused moment.

Then she was on the floor, trying to fight her way back up, droplets of crimson pattering to the carpet below her. She could taste salt and iron in the corner of her mouth and knew the right side of her face had gone numb.

In front of her, Lord Hart took a seat on his throne, crossing one leg over the other, gently amused by the scene before him.

"I don't expect it was easy to capture her." He said.

"No, my Lord. She killed three of my men," he hesitated for a moment, eyes flashing almost resentfully down to the wolverine, "...but I believe she's nearly broken."

"I don't think so," Lord Hart said, "do you see the fire burning in her eyes? She's still angry...and that counts for something. She may be beaten on the outside, but her determination still holds."

The lion nodded, clearly unwilling to go against the elk.

"...She did bite one of my men on the way here." He added, a bit sheepishly.

"Nowhere especially sensitive, I'd hope." Lord Hart smiled thinly.

Synne growled deep in her throat, then spat, a crimson streaked glob of saliva spattering against one leg of the elk's throne.

Lord Hart himself did nothing but the wolverine hardly had time to move before the lion drove a knee into her stomach, bending her double with an agonized whoosh of breath. Flipping her onto her back, the lion ground the heel of his boot into her sternum, so hard that Synne writhed, mouth open in a silent scream. Her attacker snarled, claws fully unsheathed, rage burning bright behind his eyes.

"How dare you." The lion hissed, fists balling.

"You know," Lord Hart said, still perfectly calm, smiling gently, "...it's not a bad thing that she's unbroken. I was in need of a new project."

The lion blinked, visibly surprised, then stepped slowly away from the wheezing, whimpering wolverine, allowing Synne to curl slowly onto her side, silent tears running down her face.

"What you've brought me," the elk continued, "is a rarity, and one I'm very grateful to have. You and your men are henceforth assigned to the sanctum for a period of six weeks."

The lion's ears perked, as though he could hardly believe what he was hearing, all anger and tension and fear draining from him in an instant.

"My Lord," he stammered at last, unable to hide his joy, "your generosity is unparalleled...I really can't-"

"One last thing," Lord Hart interrupted with practiced casualness, so swiftly that the lion didn't even seem to realize that he'd been cut off, "and consider this a precursor to your reward...teach her a lesson, for spitting on my throne."

Synne's eyes flashed to the elk, widening in horror, then the lion was stepping forward, not missing a beat as he put his boot into her side, just over one kidney. Once again Synne lost the air she'd managed to gasp back into her lungs, a white hot agony radiating out from her lower back, making her want to curl over backwards, anything to shield the pain there from further aggravation. She trembled in place, curling into a weak ball, trying to slash her claws at the lion as he knelt down.

He batted her paw aside with contemptuous ease and landed a hard jab into Synne's face, bloodying her muzzle, erasing her vision entirely for a long, terrible moment, stars obscuring everything.

She tried to scream, to bite, to squirm away, but the world was scrambled, her body wasn't responding. Somewhere in the distance she could feel the lion forcing her legs apart, a slippery heat pressing against her tail-hole, but it wasn't until he shoved roughly into her that a red hot sparkle of rending agony seemed to reset the world.

Synne grabbed for the lion's throat but he pinned her arms down and pumped into her, taking his pleasure with deliberately vicious strokes, doing as much as he could to hurt her.

It was working, tears flooded Synne's eyes, turning her vision into a nightmarish kaleidoscope, her body wracked with pain, lungs still refusing to fully inflate. She felt weak and powerless and hurt, utterly at the mercy of the man using her broken form.

Then, abruptly, the lion was withdrawing, Synne's stinging tail-hole suddenly empty. For a half second she wondered blearily what was going on, then a paw grabbed hard onto one of her ears and she was being dragged upright with a hiss of pain, the lion's throbbing feline cock in her face, rubbing against the soft fur of one cheek. She bared her teeth, then felt a spurt of scalding wetness splash next to one eye, the lion marking her with his seed.

When he was done he shoved her back down and stood up, unable to hide a satisfied grin as the wolverine balled her fists, biting back an outraged, humiliated sob, face streaked with feline cum.

"Don't wipe it off," the lion growled, "that's who you are now."

Lord Hart nodded approvingly, still sat upon his throne, like a theatergoer watching a play.

"I wish you the best," he said warmly to the lion, "you are dismissed."

With that the lion departed, doing up his pants and leaving Synne lying on her side in the midst of a bloodied, soiled patch of carpet, alone with the Adversary.

It took the wolverine a moment to recover enough breath to form words again. Still the pain was nearly too much to bear, the shame, the humiliation of being brought so low before her very worst enemy.

But she had to say something. Swallowing hard, mouth tacky with blood, Synne pushed herself upright, into a sitting position, legs trembling under her, pain lancing between her legs. She narrowed her eyes at the elk, doing her best not to show fear.

"You'll never break me." She growled.

"Not physically," the elk agreed, "while I did enjoy that display, it represents a significant departure from my own teaching style. See, I've always been a believer in the power of positive reinforcement."

What?

Synne blinked, confused. She'd expected violence, beatings, for the elk to lunge at her. Something that would give her an opening to maybe dig her claws in and rip him up. Surely he'd think she was weak after what the lion had done to her...

But the elk remained seated, watching the wolverine's confusion with faint interest.

"For instance," he said, "if you tell me your name, I can see about undoing the damages that my men have inflicted."

Synne's lip instinctively curled. Slowly, she forced herself upright, legs rubbery under her, just barely holding her own weight. Still she glared at Lord Hart, breathing hard, fists balled so tight that her claws had punched into the pads of her palms, drawing crimson beads of blood.

She hardly felt it.

"I will not submit to evil." The wolverine muttered, and tensed to lunge. She was going to slash his throat, rip his eyes out...any sort of possible damage.

And suddenly she was sliding backwards, the slope of the room seeming to change under her. Synne fell hard onto her front, feet slipping out from under her, claws digging into the carpet. Lord Hart was still in front of her, unmoving, the angle of the room hadn't changed, but it felt as though she was about to tumble off a cliff.

She slid back, claws ripping through yards of white carpet, and then suddenly everything was back to normal, gravity restored, the terror squeezing her heart lingering for a moment before almost sheepishly lifting, replaced by a surge of helpless rage.

"You..." She couldn't manage any other words, angry tears filling her eyes.

The elk smiled.

"What's your name?" He asked.

Synne bared her teeth at him and was sent rolling across the carpeted room at a different angle for her trouble, scrambling for something to hold on to. The rest of the furniture didn't seem impacted by the change, nor did any of the books on the shelves. It was just her, Synne realized with a sick, ugly feeling, and Lord Hart wasn't lifting so much as a finger to do it.

After a while he stopped, leaving the wolverine lying on her back, dizzy and ill, paws clamped over her eyes.

"What's your name?" He asked again, in the same gentle, insistent tone.

Beneath the depths of her anger and pain and shame, Synne found a little nugget of practicality. What harm would cooperating on this one harmless thing be? It was just her name.

She didn't even consider lying. Somehow she thought that the elk would know if she was, though she didn't know how.

"...Synne." The wolverine muttered.

"Named after the sun," Lord Hart's eyes lifted to the skylight above his head, "though...phonetically, it sounds a bit like..." He smirked, Synne glaring daggers at the elk, fists still balled.

"You're wasting your time," she muttered, "I'll never break."

"You already have," Lord Hart said, "you just don't know it yet."

Synne blinked. The way the elk spoke, so calmly, and with such assurance, spooked her. But she didn't let it show, just climbed slowly back to her feet, wincing as she did so, Lord Hart's eyes on her.

"Good girl." He said, and snapped his fingers.

In an instant Synne was engulfed by a warm, almost organic tingle, like she was being caressed by a dozen paws in velvet gloves. She stiffened, ready to bolt, but as soon as it started, the experience was over. And suddenly she was standing easily, the pain gone, her body restored, bruises and cuts and the awful, aching pain between her legs removed entirely.

The wolverine took a surprised, hopping step back, eyes widening before shooting to the elk and filling with horror.

"What did you do to me?" She demanded, patting herself down, searching for abnormalities, demonic mutations, the sick results of black magic. Yet she found nothing apparent.

Just on a surface physical level, she felt absolutely normal...even if her mental state was in the middle of a complete implosion.

"I kept my word," the elk said, "now...I want you to relax and stand still for as long as I tell you to. If you do then I'll show you to your quarters."

Synne paused in the middle of patting her thighs down, fur bristling.

"Fuck you." She growled. Profanity wasn't allowed at the Church, in fact it was frowned upon quite a lot by the divine, but she was past caring.

The elk smiled, then extended a single finger and suddenly it was as though she was encased in velvet, a firm but invisible mold holding the wolverine perfectly in place. She tried to open her mouth to shout, to demand he let her go, but she couldn't even manage that.

Synne's eyes widened. Her eyes and eyelids, she realized, were the only things she had any real control over. Though movement remained theoretical, she couldn't execute it, the equipment between synapses and muscles simply failed, holding her as she was. And still the feeling lingered, weirdly present, though she couldn't see anything holding her still.

Frowning, Lord Hart stood up off of his throne and stepped towards the immobilized wolverine, frightened tears welling in the corners of her eyes, anger still burning behind them. But instead of groping or even hitting her, the elk simply circled her slowly, eyes moving over every bit of the wolverine's body. There was something strangely clinical about it, but that feeling was only surface level. Synne could sense a sort of desire burning beneath the elk's calm exterior, threatening to break loose.

Clearly watching the lion rut her had done things to him.

"Positive reinforcement," he said after a moment, "can be done with both emotional and physical rewards. I offered a combination when you told me your name, Synne. I restored your body, which I'm sure is beneficial both physically and mentally. Isolating these, however, results in more specialized rewards. See, if you were to have obeyed me then I would have showed you to a comfortable room. A physical reward. If you had bid me a good day there then I would have rewarded you emotionally by leaving you to have a quiet day to yourself."

A tear cut a dark track through Synne's fur, the wolverine burning up with fury and panic and a hundred thousand other emotions, some nameless, others far too familiar.

He was lying to her, she told herself. He had to be.

"I'm going to let you speak now," the elk continued, "but please be polite. Otherwise I will leave you like this for quite a long time, and anyone who comes into this room will be free to do whatever they want with you." As he spoke, Lord Hart gently laid his paws on her, one on her shoulder, the other on her hip, slowly guiding Synne into a kneeling position, her legs folding easily under her. The motion felt weird, like she was in control, her muscles were working normally, but...not.

The elk's paw slipped up her thigh until it was cupping her rear, Synne blinking hard as he pushed her upper body gently forward, until one side of her face was pressed against soft white carpet. The position he'd put her in, she realized, was one of eager presentation. A convenience and a warning all at once.

He knelt next to her, squeezing her soft furred rear, fingers grazing the lips of her slit, gazing fondly into the wolverine's tear filled eyes.

"I want you to blink once if you understand." He said.

Synne hesitated a long moment, then blinked, knowing she couldn't do anything else. The thought of being put out for more use was too terrible to contemplate, even if she knew that what the elk had in mind could easily be worse.

Her mouth fell open, a ragged gasp spilling from Synne's lips. Immediately she had to bite back an urge to tell the wolverine what would come of his degeneracy. It wouldn't do her any good.

"Let me go," she said, breathing hard, aware that her lower lip was trembling, "let me go or-" She cut herself off before she could pivot to threats. Threats were bad. Threats would get her punished.

The Adversary smirked but made no move to seal her mouth back up. Instead he withdrew his hoof from her rear and reached instead into a pocket, coming back out with a little glass vial, filled with perhaps a teaspoon's worth of pale blue liquid, the color of the sky on a very hot day. It seemed to contain its own glow, throbbing with barely contained energy. Synne stared at it, almost transfixed, fighting to get her breathing and heart rate under control.

"Did you see the auctions on your way here?" The elk asked, tilting the vial from side the side, making the liquid slosh from one end of the container to the other.

Synne shut her eyes and tried to nod but realized that she couldn't move her head.

"...Yes." She muttered through gritted teeth.

"Describe what you saw."

"Degeneracy." The word slipped out before she could force it back. For a moment the wolverine just blinked, eyes flickering fearfully to Lord Hart, but the elk just continued playing the vial. After a moment he beckoned for her to continue. Still, Synne didn't exactly feel emboldened to continue using such language. She needed to be careful. She described the visuals of what she'd seen, stating only the objective facts, until...

"...The...the slaves," she winced at the very word, "they were drugged." Her eyes slid to the vial, Lord Hart patting her on the head, provoking a low snarl from the wolverine, Synne cutting it immediately off, eyes going wide for a moment before simply staring hard at the floor.

"You could say that this is the ultimate in positive reinforcement," Lord Hart said, "if you're a good girl, Synne, then you get to have some of this. It makes life much, much easier. If you disobey and are a bad girl, then you will be punished."

Synne took a deep breath, steeling herself. But even before she could manage a full exhale, the elk was speaking again, stroking the fur behind her ear, Synne squeezing her eyes shut, teeth gritted.

"I won't be so uncouth as to beat you up, I'm not like the men who captured you. And besides, something tells me that a soldier like you would be expecting that sort of treatment. It wouldn't be pleasant for you, I'm sure, but you'd know how to cope with it. No..." He smiled, one finger tracing the length of the wolverine's muzzle, until it came to a rest at the tip of her nose, "if you're a bad girl, Synne, your punishments will be more varied. That I can promise you."

Synne burned with the desire to snap at the elk's finger, but she kept her mouth shut, breathing as regularly as she could, heart hammering in her chest, all too aware of the position her immobilized body had been forced into.

"I don't want the drugs." She mumbled, the parts of her that were able to move trembling so fiercely that her words were barely comprehensible.

Lord Hart nodded slowly.

"If you were to obey me without this," he swirled the vial in front of the wolverine's eyes, "that would make you a very special person. For those who are shackled to the slave moralities of faith and Church superstition, all too often it's necessary to ease their minds into the proper function of sapient life. If you were willing to abandon your faith for me without the slightest bit of chemical aid..." The elk slowly eased Synne back up to a kneeling position, framing her face with both hooves, the glass of the vial pressed against one of her cheeks, worryingly close to her mouth. He stroked fondly behind her ears, something close to admiration blossoming behind his eyes for a moment before it all snapped off again.

"Of course," Lord Hart continued, "if you're speaking of continually disobeying me so you don't have to take the drugs...that's fine. It will be a disappointment, but I do enjoy punishing malcontents as well. My first command is for you to relax."

Synne took another deep breath. Relax? What kind of command was that? She swallowed hard, eyes kept on the elk as he stowed the vial away once more, disappearing it into a pocket of his tunics. For a moment she considered what might happen if she smashed it against his skin. If it got into his bloodstream would it turn him, the Adversary, into a lust filled submissive freak?

The temptation was overwhelming, but of course she was paralyzed.

For a moment Hart was still, simply examining her, then, slowly, he moved closer, on his knees like her, one hoof slipping between her thighs. Synne was unable to suppress an outraged snarl, eyes narrowing as she felt a pair of fingers trace over her sable folds.

The elk paused, looking at her, bemused.

"No," Synne growled, "stop!"

"I'm disappointed," Lord Hart said, though he didn't sound it, "looks like we're going to try something slightly different."

Synne tried to speak again but, suddenly, her mouth was sealed. Once more she was reduced to a pair of eyes in a still body, Lord Hart tracing his fingers along the underside of her muzzle before guiding her onto her back, spreading the wolverine's legs with ease.

No matter how hard she tried, how intensely she focused, her muscles simply wouldn't respond. The elk undid his pants and set them aside, hooves rubbing down the insides of Synne's thighs, right to the very edge of her midnight pussy. Between the elk's legs, Synne could see a smooth, tapered cock that had to be at least nine inches long, the tip already wet with pre.

But Lord Hart ignored his own arousal, focusing on scooting closer between Synne's legs, boosting her hindquarters into the air with...oh, he was levitating her a few inches in the air for easier access. Somehow she wasn't even surprised.

"Since your Church discourages the pursuit of knowledge and earthly pleasures," the elk said, almost teasing, leaning slightly forward to allow his length to brush against one of Synne's thighs, "I doubt they've ever taught you anatomy. How about a lesson."

Immediately, Synne felt the tip of a finger press down at the very topmost part of her pussy, the little hood of sable skin that partially covered...

"The clitoris," Lord Hart explained, rubbing little circles over top of it to further emphasize its place, "and the folds of skin that surround the vagina are called the labia," a thumb swirled over the wolverine's folds, Synne's eyes narrowed, breathing uneven and ragged, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, "beyond the labia...is the vagina itself."

And then he was pushing into her, the tapered tip of Lord Hart's cock sliding almost effortlessly into Synne's tight hole. She longed to thrash and scream, but all she could do was shut her eyes. The elk hadn't stopped rubbing her, even as he slowly hilted himself into her pussy, heavy cervine balls pressing against the underside of her tail.

Despite the fear and rage that crackled through her, Synne could feel that she had remained completely relaxed through Lord Hart's penetration, her hole almost welcoming his thick length. There was no physical pain, even if the shame and horror she felt seemed like it would shatter the world. More tears streamed down her cheeks as the elk began to thrust, humping the immobilized wolverine with short, hard thrusts, rocking her in place, balls slapping against her rear.

And still he kept up on her clit, stroking along with with firm insistence. And...

What?

Synne blinked hard, eyes locking on Lord Hart. She couldn't look all the way down to see what exactly he was doing to her, but there were odd, distressing sensations coming from it, a warmth that she'd never felt before, mixing in with her terror to form a sort of buzzing numbness.

The elk glanced up, noticing the hitch in Synne's breathing and smirked.

"I'm going to give you your voice back," he decided, "...tell me how this feels."

"Stop." She groaned, voice rich with terror, all too aware that the elk wouldn't do a thing she asked.

The warmth seemed to have gathered in the very center of her, gathering an almost electric edge. For a moment Synne couldn't decide just what it felt like. Was this some sort of new magic? What was Lord Hart doing to her? But the more it developed the more the wolverine realized, to her horror, that it was pleasure.

But all she could do was sit still, trapped in her unresponsive, malfunctioning body, listening to the rapid wet slap of Lord Hart's thrusts as he shoved into her sodden hole, free hoof traveling up to fondle Synne's breasts, feeling the pitter patter of her heartbeat through her chest.

"Stop, please..." The wolverine begged, eyes wide, a grimace on her face, cheeks wet with tears, "please, please...stop...stop!" She shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls, but Lord Hart only humped her faster, bending further over the distressed wolverine, her little sable hole stretched around his thick length.

Squeezing her nipple, the elk ground hard into her, rubbing especially hard on her clit, and suddenly the world seemed to go white and jittery around Synne, her heart skipping a beat, then another, only seeming to resume in fits and starts as her face went numb and her lower body was doused with painless golden flames. The sensations were so unfamiliar that all she could do for a long time was stare in shock, gasps and distraught little groans bubbling from her mouth.

Above her, Lord Hart grunted and thrust one last time before burying himself as deeply into her as he could, squeezing her firm breasts with both paws, cock twitching, spitting thick spurts of creamy white cum into the wolverine's tight, velvety depths.

Synne blinked as she felt the elk empty his balls into her, unable to do much of anything else. Her words were gone, and the world didn't seem very far behind. What the fuck had happened? What had that been? She couldn't decide if it had felt good or scary or terrible.

She had been smiling, she realized, for a split second during the height of it, and felt her lower lip begin to quiver.

As Lord Hart withdrew his cum streaked cock and wiped it off on the soft fur of Synne's inner thigh, the wolverine began to weep.