Exodus Pt. 1
DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction, and intended as such. All characters are copyright of lpandbb and should be used with permission. As such, this story is also of adult content and should not be read or accessed by those younger than 18, or whatever your legal age limit of such things are (some places say 21). The author does not condone rape and intends this story for fantasy uses only. Thank you.
For those that don't know, because it might not be very clear, the story takes place in Colonial America, or a form of it, during the 18th century. It is a continuation of one that others have found quite enjoyable, Pet Breeding. I hope this one lives up to the reputation.
Tess narrowed her eyes as she watched the grasshopper in front of her nose. It was so close that they were nearly crossed. A shade almost an exact match to the grasses around her, she had been told by Master Samuel that they were a perfect mix of Momma's and her sire's. However, she was sure that the slight resemblance in eye hues were all she had inherited from the saint she knew as her mother. Her fur was dark as midnight, blending in with her headfur, and her body small and slight. She barely reached 5'3. And while Nora had been gentle and calm, Tess was nothing of the sort. In fact, had she been the offspring of any other besides Saint Nora, she would have been bound to another master's plantation long before.
As it was, Samuel held an even stronger soft spot for the canine hellion than he had held for her mother, God rest her soul. The disease that had ended her life had taken the lives of many of the slave canines in the county, including the stud Ol' Roy, Tess's sire, and several other foxes in Master Dawton's possession. It was rumored that the huge black male had been the cause of the disease in the first place. The rumor was enough to turn Dawton's customers away and dry up his vineyard. He had left shortly after the death of Tess's mother.
Samuel sat in his chair on the front porch, rocking slowly, his tired old eyes watching as the still gangly wolf-girl hopped after the escaping grasshopper. At little more than fourteen, she had an innocence about her that tugged at his heart. Unlike the other slaves, she stayed with him in the manor house, since her mother had died when she hadn't been properly weaned. She had never seen a day's work in the fields, or in the house. All in all, she was a very spoiled little female. And he wouldn't change it for the world.
His chair creaked quietly, mixing with the whines of locusts, hums of flies, and the croaking of frogs down by the creek. It was such a peaceful place, his plantation. But he had never known another cat to share his life with. As a result, he had no heir to his fortunes, to his lands or his possessions. And his time on this earth was drawing to a close. Even now, his once magestic mane was thinning out, and it saw more silver than the tawny richness that had been the envy back in his prime. He walked with a thick cane, and he needed spectacles to see or read anything. And when he was gone, this innocence would be lost. No matter what his will was to say about her, the last of his little canines, she would be sold to the highest bidder, and his farms would be broken up and added to the borders of his hovering neighbors.
His milky eyes watched as she straightened in the grass, her simple, yet elegant dress clinging to her form. It had been tailored to fit her form exactly, and it hugged her still developing curves in a way that many had commented on. He didn't care. He loved her as a beloved granddaughter. Yet, even as she moved to walk in the grass, he had to sigh in disdain as she hiked the hem up high enough to flash the edges of her bloomers. "Tess," he warned, his voice rumbling with merely a shadow of his former strength.
The girl blinked at the sound of her name, and she looked up. As soon as she saw him looking, she knew what he was warning about. She grinned impishly, and tossed her waves of shiny ebony tresses back over her shoulder, laughing softly. "Sorry!" she called pleasantly.
He gave a soft smile. "Enough, child. I fear a storm will be rolling in. Help me to my parlor chair, and we shall practice on your reading."
Tess sighed, glancing out once more along the grass lawn before she turned, hurrying up the steps to help the grizzled lion to his quivering feet. Little did she know that a canine learning to read would be enough to have them killed on other farms. She didn't mind reading. In fact, she rather liked it. She could write too, and clearly. She loved her life here on Master Samuel's farm and she wouldn't change it for the world.
Little did she know, she soon would have no choice.
***
Barely a week passed after Samuel's worrying on the front porch that he passed in the night. Being that she was the only other living soul on the property now, all of the others having been sold after he knew the inevitable was approaching, Tess had been the one to find him. She was sitting by his bed, still crying and holding his limp paw when the Vicar came calling. The middle-aged panther sighed heavily, and touched her shoulder comfortingly. "Come, child," he murmured, his voice just a soft whisper to her distraught ears. It took quite a bit of coaxing for her to leave the house. It was the last time she would ever see her childhood home.
Like with most property, Tess was appraised by an expert. However, unlike most property, she wasn't used to that sort of thing. The gruff puma looked her over carefully before reaching for the waist of her dress. Tess blinked in indignation, her jaw dropping. "I DO beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, yanking her dress back, her chin raised stubbornly. She carefully smoothed the material down. "One does NOT paw at a lady in such a vulgar manner."
The slaver blinked at that, caught off-guard, and he laughed a sharp, hoarse laughter before his fist swung, connecting solidly with the young wolf's jaw. Tess yelped, tumbling to the dirt floor of his quarters, her grass-green eyes wide with shock, her paw going to the site of the blow. He leaned over her, grinning to reveal yellowed teeth and horrid breath. "I don't know who you think you be, little bitch, but you ain't no lady," he wheezed. "You open that maw of yers afore being told, I'll beat yer brains to the ground, yeah?" He straightened, grabbing her by her wrist and yanking her back to her feet. This time, she held still, trembling a bit as he ripped the dress from her. Slaves didn't need clothes anyway. He looked her over, inspecting her fur for any scars or bald patches, feeling her muscles and checking her teeth. "Got a bit of growing to do, bit scrawny, but in good form."
Tess glared at him, but she knew he was talking TO her. Just about her. So she stayed silent.
His inspection went on, cupping her breasts, which she blinked at, and moving lower, grabbing at her budding womanhood. "Now, see here!" she exclaimed again, grabbing at his wrist. The puma snarled in warning, and she glared back. "Who do you think you are?" she exclaimed. "You can't just touch someone there!"
He shook his head. She would be fun for someone with a strong hand to break, that was true. "Now, get something clear through that skull of yers, bitch," he snapped impatiently. "Yer no cat! Yer no someone. You a dog, a bitch, a slave, a fuck-meat, and a cunt. But you no cat, and yer without yer ol' master. Now, shut yer trap, or I'll break it. Got it!" During his little speech, his paw had wrapped into her long hair, and he yanked her head back, forcing her back to arch. She yelped, having to spread her legs a bit to keep her balance. And that's what the slaver had wanted. The pads of his fingers felt for her opening and he pushed in gingerly, checking for her maiden head.
"OW! That hurts!" Tess exclaimed, and the puma exhaled tightly, glaring up at her in warning. He was glad he wouldn't be the one to buy her. He wouldn't have the patience. But she was pure, and that would replace what was wrong with her training in her price. It was rare to find a pure slave anymore, one that was still intact. Without another word, he kept ahold of her hair, and he dragged her behind him into a random cage with other females, and he threw her in, letting the iron gate clang shut and lock behind her. The faster he got her out of his cells, the better he'd sleep.
Tess was shaken to the core with this new development in her life. Around her, the other females trembled, all knowing their fate. Tess was still in the dark. She frowned, exhaling tightly, shivering from the breeze that shifted over her. Why had he taken her dress like that? Why was she still nude? Why couldn't she go home. Those questions and a million more raced through her mind, and she swallowed hard, closing her eyes tightly as she hugged her knees to her bare chest, her dark ears pulled back tightly against her skull.
The next few days were a blur for Tess. She was pulled out of the cage, looked over and tossed back in. Food was shoved through the bars, but she usually lost out to the other larger females in her attempts to snag a morsel. Day ran into night, and night blended into day, turning to weeks. It was when she had come to the resolution that she would die here was she pulled out roughly once more. She sighed heavily, closing her eyes. She was sure that he was having someone look her over again. To the young wolf's great surprise, he slipped a rope around her thinned neck, cinching it tightly enough so that she couldn't slip it over her head. The other end was longer than she was tall, and a stranger held the other end. He was a caracal cat, the black tuffs of his ears groomed as impeccably as his clothes.
Tess swallowed hard. "What's going on?" she asked slowly.
The gleeful slaver, having finally been rid of her, answered with a smirk. "Meet yer new master, bitch. I hope he teaches you how to behave properly, like a good slave."
Tess blinked, looking back at the cat, and he lifted his nose, arching his eyebrow tightly. "Joseph, take the wolf into the wagon," he said, passing the rope end to an ordinary, orange tabby next to him. "And JUST to the wagon, mind. We shall start the disciplinary process when we have had her thoroughly checked."
The puma slaver scoffed. "I have had her checked myself, my lord! She is in fine health! No diseases to speak of. Even has all of her teeth!"
The caracal didn't glance at the slaver, his gaze on his new property. "Nevertheless, Mr. Smith, I have heard rumors about your establishment, including that bout of distemper than ran through your pens less than a fortnight ago. I will have her checked."
Distemper? Tess's eyes widened. She was familiar with the disease. In fact, that had been what the doctor had said had claimed her mother. She inhaled slowly, but before she could react, the makeshift collar and leash combo tightened, yanking her off her feet. She yelped as she landed in a crumbled heap. The orange tabby, Joseph, she had to remember his name, grabbed a pawful of her hair, hauling her back up to her hindpaws, much to her discomfort. "Ow!" she exclaimed. "Let go!" All the demand earned her was a cuff to her ear. She grimaced, and slowly, she allowed herself to be pulled up into the back of a wagon that was parked behind a very ornate carriage.
The caracal lord pinched something from a tin and took a delicate sniff in both nostrils. Tess frowned in disapproval. She knew that cat nip was a fashionable phase, but it was still vile, and her master had agreed. Other lords didn't see it that way. She met her owner's gaze calmly, unafraid. He was the first to turn away, and he climbed up into the carriage, the door held open by a small, lithe fennec fox, who stared straight ahead. Only the best slaves could accompany a master about the city after all.
The ride to her new home was rough and she couldn't seem to keep her seat properly, or even keep her legs diligently closed. Every time she had to brace herself or fall over, Joseph smirked, his breeches tented. Tess had never seen a man's tool before, though, so she scarcely noticed. As the wagon lurched to a stop, Joseph pulled her back to her feet, and he dragged her down to the ground.
Around her, other canines mingled, some of the females with pups clinging to their grandmother's threadbare clothing, their thumbs in their mouths. None between the ages of six and fifty summers were here. She swallowed hard, trembling a bit, but she didn't have long to gawk at her new neighbors. Joseph continued to drag her to one of the rotting cabins, and he yanked the door open, shoving her in first. When she stumbled, his boot caught her in the rump, pushing her the way to the floor. He hissed a laugh, shaking his head, the door closing behind them. "What's the matter, bitch?" he said lightly. "Out of your element?"
"Where am I?" she demanded, pulling herself back up to her knees. She had thought that the blow from the puma had been hard. She was sorely mistaken; Joseph showed her that. Her head bounced back against the crude wooden box that held the moldy straw mattress, her nose instantly bleeding from the force of the closed fist.
"You have a lot to learn, pup," he muttered. "No manners, no respect for your betters. Your last owner must have spoiled you something terrible.." His paw found her hair again, and he hauled her back up to her knees. He was terribly fond of her hair, she noticed. "We'll show you your place. But first, I want you to show me how good your tongue is."
Tess wasn't sure she knew what he meant, but the next thing she knew, his tool was down her throat, his thumbs hooked into her jaws, just behind her powerful molars, preventing her from biting down. "There's a good bitch," he purred, thrusting his hips back against her bleeding nose. She coughed, gagging not just on his tool, but his stench. Had he never learned proper bathing?! Try as she might, she couldn't break his hold or push him away. After a time, he pulled back out and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, drool running down her chin and neck, tears falling fast as she struggled to breathe. He chuckled darkly. "What's the matter, bitch? Did you not like your bone? Well, I'm sure I can make it sweeter..."
Joseph picked her up roughly, pushing her over the mattress box and onto the mattress itself. Taking the end of the rope, he tied it tightly to the hook just above the bed. The excess rope was used to bind her wrists together and back through to the hook again. If she tugged at all on her hands, it would tighten around her neck. With her now immobile, his hands ran down her body, cupping her breasts roughly. "Such a prize bitch," he whispered, drooling a bit in his haste. His fingers found her dry nether lips, and he smirked. "Too stupid to even get wet, huh?"
She swallowed hard, trembling, and she felt her eyes widen. "Stop!" she gasped. "I. I thought I was to remain intact.."
Joseph grinned. "You were. I'm the slave driver, though, and our Master bought you as my present. It's my birthday. You're mine, little bitch." He pushed his trousers down to his ankles, and he pulled at her ankles, settling at the junction between her thighs. "You're all mine," he breathed, massaging her breasts roughly.
She could feel the heat of his cat-meat resting against her mound, and she whimpered, twisting her hips in an effort to dislodge him. It didn't work. In fact, it helped the head of his pulsing rod find her opening and lodge there, hooked on her own flesh. "Get ready," he breathed, grabbing onto her hips. "Get set..." He never said go. In fact, she didn't even feel a mad rush to take her. She had winced, squeezing her eyes closed, bracing for the pain. But it never came.
Tess blinked, looking back up at him in confusion. And it was then that, with a wicked grin, he thrust forward slowly, using one long, slow, push of his hips drive himself into her. He wanted it to be slow. He wanted her to feel it. She cried out sharply, her back arching as she trembled, instantly struggling. It hurt! It was spreading her lips wide, splitting her in two. Just when she thought it couldn't get worse, he forced his way through her maidenhead. Her cries turned to a scream, and the rope tightened around her throat, cutting off her air supply. For several seconds, he let her stay that way before he carefully loosened the bonds again. "I need to hear you scream, bitch," he whispered, his hips still not touching hers. He wasn't even all the way inside her yet.
Tess sobbed, coughing and gasping. "Stop," she whispered. "God, please, stop!"
Joseph smirked down at her. "Now, why would I want to do a crazy thing like that?" He kept pushing until he was hilted in her. "See? That wasn't so terrible, now, was it?"
She couldn't seem to catch her breath, her legs trembling as they lay splayed open, ripe for his taking. Closing them would be futile now, and it might even hurt more. The slaver barely gave her time to adjust before he started to pull back, the spines on his cock catching on the sensitive flesh of her inner walls. It was just as painful as the initial deflowering, it seemed. She cried out again, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn't unlike the time she'd found the beehive outside her home when she'd been just a little pup..
Joseph grinned, watching as her face contorted with pain. That lovely soprano voice was music to his ears. He continued to pull out. "That's it, little bitch," he breathed. "Scream for Papa..." As soon as he could start seeing where his erection began to taper into its tip, he stopped, watching her as her chest heaved, her breasts almost pulsing with a life of their own. No more torture, though. He couldn't continue to draw this out. She was a vice grip on him. And he was going to show her exactly what her place was. His hips slammed back against hers, driving what little air she'd gotten back into her lungs right back out again. But this time, he didn't give her time to adjust. He set a grueling pace, rutting her heavily. He panted, grunting in time with the thrusts, his hands taking turns in gripping her hips firmly or painfully twisting her heavenly breasts.
While he was in heaven, she was in hell. All she knew was a horrible pounding at her very core, his tip battering mercilessly against her cervix. She continued to scream, begging for him to stop, wailing for help, and when he grew tired of her screams, his fist smashed against her jaw to silence her.
Tess saw stars, and still, he continued his assault, growling, his teeth finding her shoulder and biting down. The rocking movements of his enthusiasm, though, had loosened the hook she was tied to from the wall. Tess acted without thought. She wasn't a violent wolf... She never had been. But she just wanted it to stop! As soon as the hook had worked itself free, she felt it against her hands. Yanking it the rest of the free of the wall, she twisted it in her hands and brought it straight down, driving it into the back of the male's skull. Once. Twice. Again and again as he convulsed on top of her, squealing and gargling in his own blood before he went limp on top of her.
Tess sobbed. Somehow, she managed to slip away out from under him, her hands still bound to the murder weapon. A quick sawing action of the hook took care of that. She had to get out of there... She had to run before someone found her. They would kill her for sure for this.
Still, despite any looming doom that might happen, Tess couldn't help but look down at her rapist with grim satisfaction. This wouldn't be the end, she decided as she slipped off into the woods. She wouldn't rest until the rest of the canines were safe from this tyranny... She would end all of this herself, one way or another.
To Be Continued