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Even blindfolded, he could easily tell what his bindings were just by how they felt on his naked body. His arms and legs were spread, held outstretched by leather cuffs on his wrists and hocks. A strapped, leather muzzle collar was loose enough to let him speak. Apparently, it was also anchored to some line, holding his head up a bit, allowing him to breathe. There was the ever-present binding collar on his neck, and further down his body, two wide, sturdy, leather straps around his chest and waist were supporting his weight, to take most of the strain from his limbs. As he was, his rump felt alarmingly exposed. At least he had his tail free to cover himself. Not that that would pose any obstacle if the cat wanted to get there. With the constant tug that his restraints exerted upon his entire body and every sound coming from below it was obvious that he was suspended rather high above the floor.

The rhythmic grinding was maddening. Each scrape of the pestle on the mortar's shell made Vidar's skin crawl under his fur. He endured about ten minutes of that, but they felt like hours to the wolf. It could have been torture just as well, had Javal decided so. He had to stop it somehow.

"I haven't been in this room before."

Thank the gods, it worked like a charm. Vidar felt the cat's glance on himself, however, the man didn't respond. But he didn't get back to the grinding either. The ocelot's silent scrutiny made his hackles raise, as the unnerving sensation started to creep on his shoulders. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to reveal to Javal the full extent of his perception? He decided to downplay it. There was no point in alerting the cat.

"It's the first time I wake tied up, already set up for your... perversions."

To his dismay, it took only a moment, before the annoying clopping returned. The wolf's sensitive ears pinned on that.

"Are you comfortable?" Javal broke his silence after a while. The question was typical of him, and it was long since the lupine learned that the ocelot's courtesy wasn't just a facade.

"Almost," Vidar answered after mulling over all the possible retorts. The ocelot never addressed rudeness verbally, but he had his fair share of experience on what it meant to put the cat in a sour mood. A rope or a leather strap tightened a bit stronger than necessary; his legs spread a little more in various positions the cat put him in during their session... or the cage, the bloody chastity cage left active to stir his lust, depriving him of his sleep for the whole night. Like many things, that one, especially that one, too, was imbued with rune magic. The hidden message there was clear: the wolf was making his own bed with how he behaved. So Vidar behaved, keeping his impulses at bay as much as he could. There was no point in fighting the cat like that.

"Almost?" Inquired the feline. Vidar heard the chair creak and sensed the cat as he approached. It was all he had, his vision concealed in darkness by the blindfold. Spies had their ways of concealing their presence, but the damn cat was scentless! How was that even possible? Whatever it was, it had to involve magic.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"You know what's the problem," uttered the wolf, dodging the question. Nevermind it was old news by this point, it was still embarrassing to even mention the cage. And it was the only piece of his daily apparel, beside the collar, that Javal actually left on him this time. Because of course, he did.

"Is it too tight?"

The question was casual, as was the touch that came with it. Vidar tensed momentarily when the nimble fingers closed around the metal device. He could feel the movement of the cat's digits over the polished, steel surface. The feline explored lower until he reached the base of the wolf's sheath, and then cupped his heavy balls. His touch was delicate, yet Vidar grunted, with even this little bit of pressure applied to his constricted orbs.

"Perhaps it's time to give you a wider ring?" Mused the cat. "They got quite heavy recently."

The fingers played with his balls for a while, massaging and fondling gently, before they finally relented. But the wolf felt no relief, as the clawed tips slowly traced up his taint. The tingling sparks awoke his wolfhood, and he felt himself swelling inside the cage. His tip pressed forward, and the steel kiss on the bare skin of his manhood did nothing short of making him shiver, both from the cold shock and the surge of arousal.

"Just...," Vidar gasped but quickly clamped his muzzle shut. To plead with the cat so he would take it off... he would rather choke on the words than let them pass through his throat! But then again... it was just stupid pride. Pride and anger. He was too smart to give in to his emotions, he reminded himself.

"Hmmm?"

"It's been a fortnight since... just take it off. Please." There, the words were out, his own voice talking over his disdain for himself. Smart. As I always should be, Vidar noted. He wanted to commend himself for working in his best interests. Strangely enough, though, he found no burst of assurance he expected to get from his calculated submission.

"I'm afraid you will have to endure as it is, before we get to work," told him the feline, his fingers now tracing back to the wolf's nuts.

He knew very well what it meant. The game was on again and he was about to face another hours-long session of abuse. The very thought spurred his heartbeat to elevate. It took a while to get his body's response under control.

In the meantime Javal's palm found its way back to the cage, his fingers coiling around it, tracing secret patterns... The wolf had no troubles to recall them, as he had already seen and felt them before. Magic runes sparkling to life, intricate lines lightening up with a warm, orange glow. At that, the young lupine shuddered, anticipating what was to come, what he had already experienced numerous times.

An angry shock struck through his nethers. For but a split of a second his vision went white and Vidar yowled from the pain. Searing jolts of heat shot through his trapped shaft. It throbbed painfully and his balls were not spared the cruel sensation either. The wolf's powerful muscles strained in reflex to curl up to shield his most vulnerable bits, but as soon and suddenly as it came, the shock was also gone.

What was left, was a warm promise of hours of torture. Gone was the cold indifference of the handcrafted prison that held his pride captive. It dissipated within seconds, giving way to sensations so organic, he could easily mistake them for the touch of another. Weaves of heat started passing down his pulsing member. They traveled from his bare, pink tip, showing through the cage's slit, down to the roots of his wolfhood, hopelessly confined within his furry sheath. Vidar groaned, dejected by the return of the familiar sensations. They might have been familiar, but he could never grow accustomed to them. As if a dozen of warm, tingling tongues delved into his sheath, caressing him and goading into arousal. And he always surrendered, swelling rapidly to entirely fill out the unforgiving cage.

"Wh-... why?" huffed the wolf. "Why are you doing this?"

"For what's next to come, I need you bothered, mister Vidar. Wanting."

"Wanting?" Annoyance surged through him. "Wanting?! W-what... what the hell am I, if not that?! How much more wanting do I need to be?! Is this what turns you on? Is this all just for your perverted pleasure?"

"I would be lying if I said it doesn't bring me pleasure. But this is only one part of the answer, my friend. I'm afraid the second would be even less to your liking. I am sorry about that."

Vidar huffed from the sensations flooding his senses and let his anger out with a growl. "Like hell you are."

"I am." The cat's voice seemed to reach him from a distance now. "Although, I understand how you might find that hard to believe."

The spy in him wanted to pry. To ask. Like he did numerous times. What was to become of him? But right then, at the same time, the other one, the prisoner was terrified of it. Coward, he heard the sneer in his mind as he sagged in his bindings. Javal wasn't going to suddenly open and let it on just like that...

The creaking of the chair confirmed his suspicions - the cat returned to his mortar and started grinding again. The lupine's sensitive ears reflexively pinned down to his head again, to shield themselves from the creep-inducing sounds. But it was between his legs, where the true torture was taking place now. The teasing waves of warmth were vibrating through his constrained member, impossible to ignore.

Angry, Vidar sucked the air sharply through his teeth. There was this one that always stung in the cold. The pain was but a minor distraction, but at least it was something. And anything was good to hold on to his consciousness, to postpone the moment the lustful haze will finally cloud his thoughts.

He recalled the conversation he had had with Javal the day he arrived. Indeed, the ocelot's idea of a dungeon varied from the traditional one. Here, in this strange feline's hospitality nothing was certain.

He was allowed around the entire bottom floor of the Javal's hideout, but nowhere else. Going upstairs was impossible. As if the very intent in his mind to take the first step never made it to his muscles! It just... wouldn't let him out. The collar. He knew about such devices, saw them used on slaves, but to actually experience it... it shattered him in the first days. Worse even, when he tried to take it off, the shock the damn device sent through his spine knocked the idea out of his head for good. Javal was honest when he warned him about it. Since then, he almost stopped feeling it around his neck, at least most of the time. As opposed to the cage.

The metal dome around his sheath felt snug, leaving just the perfectly measured amount of space at the end, to let the sensitive tip of his wolfhood peek outside, but not more than an inch. He never hated a device so much. But in the end... as cruel as it was, it was just a tool. One of many in the hands of the twisted deviant. It had been two months. Two months filled with sexual pleasure, teasing, and lust. But it was also two months since his first and last orgasm here.

Vidar had come to know Javal's ever-caring approach and apologetic tone to be honest. Whenever it appeared in his voice it felt entirely sincere. It was almost worse than any verbal degradation he would expect in his situation. But then, the feline never let that genuine, gentlemanly nature of his stand in the way of his actions...

On the very thought, Vidar felt the blood boiling in his veins. The shameless practices executed on his body, countless times making him howl and trash from ecstatic frustration, ashamed for losing control... making him wish he was back in the dragons' hold. At least there, there was a cell with bars and shackles. He was a prisoner, awaiting his sentence, left pretty much to himself. And here, now... here he was a toy. A slave. No! Not yet. Not ever! Let Javal bend him all he wanted. He served one master, and one alone - King Ruvel, the lord of the Wolf Kingdom. And certainly not as a slave!

Vidar felt a surge of determination and pride. He wished captain Emmet could hear his thoughts now. His commander would have been proud of him. Whatever has happened to him, and the boys... The wolf chose not to think about it. The perspectives were grim, and he didn't need grim thoughts. No, he needed resolve and patience. He had to hold on. And he would.

But as minutes went by, where the mind endured, strong and defiant, the body betrayed him, growing eager and excited. With time the young wolf found himself panting. Tingling warmth kept spreading from his groin, spurring his strong muscles to twitch with anticipation.

Two weeks had passed since he was last allowed out of the cage, save for the hygiene routines, and at least that was the time of relative peace. His feline captor didn't bother him too much during these days. Even the cage had been left dormant around his sheath, for which he thanked all the gods he otherwise ignored. He had even dared to hope that Javal had grown bored of him. How mistaken he had been. Now here he was, suspended and bound, like never before, with the cruel chastity cage enveloping his needy wolf dick with rigid grip and magically induced pleasure at once. Fighting the sensations, he found himself losing the track of time. Only about an hour later, when his resolve finally broke, and a desperate moan escaped his throat, did he realize the annoying mortar grinding was gone. When did it happen? He had no idea!

"Hello?" He rasped, his throat dry from his panting. But there was no answer.

Was he left alone? When did Javal leave the room? It took Vidar at least a quarter more of fighting against his vocal responses before he let himself believe he was indeed left to suffer in his lustful solitude. When he did, there was no point in hiding his moans behind clenched teeth. With a shuddering breath, he let it all out, his ears pinning down from the shame at the pitiful cross of moan and whine he released.

As if on cue, the chastity cage reacted. Responding to his lustful call, the damn device... he couldn't believe this! It started vibrating!

"NGHHH! W-What the... hell!" The wolf groaned. It never did that before! The sensations were difficult to handle just with the cage working, but now it became a nightmare! Not more than a few seconds into that new level of torture, and it wasn't just the cage - his entire body was shaking. The slow, warm stream of pleasure stirring his lowest instincts gave place to the raging torrent of electric spurs flashing through his loins.

His hips bucked in reflex, barely able to move forward in his restraints. Poor Vidar whined in agony, as his eager length responded to the stimulation. The metal prison between his muscular legs got painfully tight in just a moment and with each spasm of his sex-starved wolfhood he felt as if just by their sheer strength he was going to rip the steel apart.

Nothing like that happened of course. Instead, the young lupine spy sagged in his bindings, alone, his hips bucking pathetically, guided by the primal desire to rut. He felt his lucidity gradually slipping away from him, like the strands of precum gushing from his throbbing cock and stretching on their way to the floor. He felt it practically sloshing inside the cage, under its dome, wetting the fur of his sheath. It was just like at the very beginning when he had been fighting the cat the most. To punish him, Javal used to leave the device active through the nights. In his foolish beliefs that he would be able to cum through the cage, Vidar shamefully had been humping his own bed, staining the sheets with his sticky mess.

The wolf groaned as the recollections of these humiliating acts came back to him. He could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading on his muzzle, although there was no one, besides himself to relieve them. But they were just a vanguard in a cavalcade of thoughts and memories of what Javal had put him through those last two months. As minutes went by, piling up into hours, his lustful thoughts and fantasies kept changing and descending into more and more disgraceful places. Places that Javal was more than happy to explore with him. All their mutual sessions, all the hours and days, when the ocelot relentlessly teased the wolf, bringing him closer and closer to climax only to leave him hanging just seconds from release... all the masterful blowjobs with the rough feline tongue applied to all the right places, not seldom with a digit or two fingering his tailhole... right now Vidar was dead certain that would be enough to set him off - just a good fingering with that fucking cage off! He was so pathetic...

The wolf had felt like that before, just the last night before their two-weeks break. Javal shackled him then, his arms high above his head, leaving the wolf straining on his hinds to keep himself from hanging just on his wrists. With his body spread like that, the ocelot had been free to do what he wanted. And in his gentle cruelty, the feline did. Of all the nights, all the teasing, that one Vidar remembered the worst.

Reminiscing, he huffed from arousal, the gentle touch of the feline's graceful paws all around his body from back then, was almost palpable now, tracing ridges of his muscles under his grey, brown and creamy white fur. Nimble fingers bending around the curves of his pecs and buttocks in admiring, almost worship-like gropes, making him groan with delight, and finally the heat of the cat's rough tongue on his neck and stomach sending shivers down his spine. That night, every single inch of his body was touched and felt up a thousand times over. Every single inch... but not an inch of his cock. Unlocked to throb in need, leaking fiercely on the floor, torturously neglected. For hours. His begging, while not falling on deaf ears, being politely denied time and time again, with that reflexive concern plastered over the handsome cat's muzzle. He would just whisper "no" or "I am sorry, my lupine friend" while stroking his belly, just so close above his sheath, or descending to his inner thighs. The sensations pleasant, yet so frustrating, he outright could feel the cat palming his stomach through the memory.

"Mister Vidar?"

He gasped, startled, the muscles of his abdomen flexing sharply under the cat's touch. The gentle paw was real.

"W-what... What's going on?!" He rasped, his throat dry as a bone.

"Easy there. You must have drifted away, and far, at that."

Damn... Damn right he did. Shaken out of his trance so abruptly, he felt his forehead furrowing in an almost physical effort, when he forced his mind to get a grasp of reality. Bindings, suspension, blinding submersion in the darkness of the blindfold... and invigorating, earthy aroma of wine passed under his nose.

"Drink. You must be thirsty."

He could smell the herbal note somewhere there. The sour liquid bit his tongue and clawed at his hoarse throat, but he ignored it. At least the sharp taste triggered his focus, so he had a fair try at keeping the lustful haze at bay. For now.

"That should be enough. Now then, shall we begin?" Javal asked rhetorically, taking the wine bag away.

At the thought of another session of abuse and denial, the skin on Vidar's back crawled with apprehension. Worse yet, his traitorous, leaking cock throbbed inside the cage as if this was the best possible news! He couldn't deny it though, just like he couldn't deny the sensations coursing through his loins - deep down he was looking forward to it. Some part of him. The cage was maddening, and locked, he had no chances at orgasm. Without it, maybe he could talk the cat into it this time... He hoped. Depending, of course, on what Javal was going to do to him... It was sickening.

"Just get this over with," he growled through his teeth.

"Certainly, my lupine friend. Hold on, you are tied to an iron frame, I need to lower it a bit," warned him the ocelot, and soon enough Vidar could hear the well-oiled spinning-wheel murmur its song, while Javal turned the crank. A slight tug told him he began his descent towards the floor. Slow and careful, so characteristic for the feline.

"That should be enough." Another tug and he was in place again. "Now for the light."

The room behind the blindfold lightened up, not unlike in actual daylight.

"Shining bricks again," muttered Vidar.

"Indeed, I have them here as well. Quite handy, aren't they?" There was genuine self-satisfaction in the cat's tone.

"Why don't you monetize it? I bet nobles would shit gold to have them in their estates."

The feline chuckled at his remark.

"Or they could stick to candles," he said, "much cheaper this way."

"Well, you don't seem to have any trouble producing much more... sophisticated magical devices," Vidar uttered with bitterness, the constant throbbing of his imprisoned wolfhood being clear evidence of that.

"It is flattering that you hold my talents in such high esteem," said Javal, his soft smile, although invisible for the blindfolded wolf, still carried over to the cat's silky tone.

That's one way to put it, thought the wolf.

"It took years to master the craft of enchanting. My beginnings with basic runes and simplest objects weren't very spectacular. You see, I am not naturally skilled in the magic arts. Each step forward takes much more effort for me than for your run of the mill academy student."

Was it resentment in the cat's voice?

"...but eventually I did get better. Collars. The cage. So much better, that bricks are nothing, but mundane work ever since."

"So what am I? A lab rat to test your toys?"

"Haven't we already brought up this question before? You don't really believe it, do you?"

"It would be easy to... To believe you are just some sick pervert, getting off on all that, but... Your hyena friend was very specific about what he was looking for when he examined me. And you don't strike me as a man without a purpose."

The wolf let it hang in there, but Javal wasn't going to be prompted to spilling the truth just like that. The silence was stretching for too long.

"What aren't you telling me?" The lupine prodded further after a while.

That raised a chuckle from the feline.

"Any fool with a magic ink and a simple grasp of the craft can write some runes on a piece of clay and be a bricklayer, mister Vidar. But to achieve the same with the living flesh..."

It didn't sound good.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Pardon this low-bred analogy, but you are not here to test toys, my handsome, young wolf. You are here to be molded into one. Your flesh and mind are the clay, but what you will become is... so much more than a brick. And this is the part, where, to steal your own words, nobility shits gold." The feline uttered through his teeth, distaste to obscenity clear in his voice.

Vidar felt a cold shiver crawling down his spine.

"Wait... you're saying...," he started, but trailed off immediately. With the electric vibrations between his legs and the scent of his own arousal in the air, it was difficult to think about anything, let alone abstract magical concepts. But there was one thing his instincts whispered to him on the spot - he didn't like the sound of it all. He was a spy - getting captured, tortured, interrogated - all that was an occupational risk. Yet Javal's words heralded nothing like that - he was on uncharted waters now. The thought of what the feline had planned for him was terrifying, but Vidar knew very well he had to scout out the area. Collecting himself, he pressed on, as calmly, as he could muster.

"I must say it's a first for me. I met rapists and abusers before, but none of them called their deeds magical," he blurted. "Uhh... no offense," he added hastily. That wasn't smart.

"None taken," answered Javal to his relief, his voice very close, somewhere behind, "You are hardly in the position to really be validating my deeds. It is true, what I'm doing to you can only be called abuse, that is, from your perspective. But I think we have a misunderstanding here. The past two months were just preparation. Real work begins today. Now."

Vidar gasped, as a sudden, gentle caress followed Javal's words. Small paw trailed the lupine's abdomen, slowly and excitingly. He felt the second touch on his right buttock, where the cat groped him firmly. Just that alone was enough to make his caged cock throb eagerly, hungry for the touch of those nimble fingers, against any residues of the better judgment remaining within him.

Despite his bindings, the wolf could feel his loins and legs trembling when finally Javal's palm closed around the metal dome of the chastity cage.

"Do you remember what I said about energies?"

"H-huh?"

Barely the cat touched him, and his mind was already melting.

The ocelot snickered and surprised the young wolf when he rubbed his shapely muzzle against the lupine's muscular side.

"All our sessions," he murmured, enjoyment audible in his voice, "All the abuse and the cage. They were leading to this very day."

There was something definitive in these words. And it disturbed the canine to his core.

"What will you do to me?" He demanded, trying to stop his jaw from trembling.

"Every one of my creations," Javal went on, "every one of the enchanted creations that ever came to be, is subject to the same laws of nature that rule over the material dominion. Just as a millwheel needs rushing water to turn the millstone, so runes need magic currents to manipulate dead matter. Or living. Now, the inanimate objects are quite simple, you see..." The cat's hand stroked the cursed metal device between Vidar's muscular thighs almost lovingly like it was a pet. "The energies feeding the runes are external. Simple. Easy to manage. But with your beautiful body, my dear, it's... something entirely different. Something coming from within. And in the last two months, we've nurtured it to become quite a potent force. Haven't we?"

A small moan escaped Vidar's muzzle when the cat's hand cupped his swollen balls, taut from the constant push of the steel ring behind them.

"S-seriously?!" The wolf huffed from the sensations. Being touched like that, even with the cage on, or maybe especially because of that, was driving him crazy. "It's just sex!"

"You might only see it as a blaze in your loins, but lust is so much more. It brought down entire empires in the past. It will do so in the future. It takes hold of peasants and kings alike. Lust is a spirit with the willpower of its own. And it is not to be trifled with."

"This... this is insane."

"Your own desire will feed the runes I will lay out on your gorgeous body," Javal explained, pleasurably rubbing the wolf's furry sack. "And all the runic words will bend it to respond to the reality exactly as it is required to. It is art. It is good business."

In his agitation, Vidar already opened his mouth to press the ocelot some more, but the paw back on his cage shut him up. The patterns already drawn by the cat's digits once this day were repeated just now and just like that, the vibrations, the waves of heat washing over his trapped wolfhood were gone. Barely the relief from the end of tortures registered in his mind, and already it was followed by a lock clank.

Despite all the revelations he just heard from the cat, the feeling of the unforgiving metal going loose around his throbbing shaft was so ecstatic, Vidar couldn't hold back his moan. Just knowing he was going to be allowed an erection stifled his concerns, at least for a moment. Two bloody weeks!

The cage was gone, the ring was gone, and barely the air kissed the tip of his craving wolfhood, Vidar felt himself hardening like a teenage boy on the night of his first time.

"You are leaking fiercely, mister Vidar. Quite a pool on the floor," Javal almost purred, somewhat contradicting the serious tone of his earlier lecture. The wolf could hear enticement in the feline's voice. But then again, the cat did admit he was taking pleasure in his wrongdoings.

And soon took it the wolf, when the warm wetness closed around his tip.

"Ohh f-fuck..." A shuddering huff escaped his throat.

It was just a touch, the most simple of sensations and well-known since his cock and the cat's muzzle were so well acquainted by now. Yet, the feelings were overwhelming. A spasm shook his loins and with a powerful throb, the wolf felt himself flooding the cat's mouth with precum. The ocelot, however, was far from complaining. In fact, Javal just lingered there, under him, his small, barbed tongue sloshing the lupine's saps around his mouth, letting the wolf quicken inside his muzzle. Through his excitement, Vidar didn't hear at first, but right then, a soft purring reached his sensitive ears, and the throaty vibrations served just as a further enticement.

It was merely seconds, before the wolf's growing cock was simply too much for the cat to handle. But they were the best seconds Vidar has had for quite some time now. Retreating his muzzle, Javal sucked hungrily, his lips tight against his girth, making the wolf groan from all the pleasure.

"You are the perfect wolf in my eyes, my dear Vidar," whispered the cat, letting go of the wolf's cock. "From your looks... through your smell... to your very taste."

"If you like it... h-huff... that much..." Said the wolf, panting, "t-there's plenty more. Just get that muzzle back to work."

"I'm sure it would have been an exceptional experience," answered the cat with a soft chuckle. "And for both of us. However, I'm afraid, it's my hands that I need to get busy, instead of my muzzle."

And then, just like that, he left him hanging. The wolf could see a darker silhouette of the ocelot obscuring the magic light from the bricks. Javal stood to the side, undoubtedly next to some table or workshop, preparing what he needed for whatever morally disputable procedure that Vidar was about to be subjected to. With his thoughts scraping together from the temporary respite of his lustful haze, the young wolf managed to free himself from the mind-numbing influence of his desire. He could feel his heart accelerating. His first instinct was to fight his binds, and though his rational side knew very well it was futile, it actually took an effort to stay in control.

Listening to the clinking of glass vials and scraping of tools on the wooden table was unsettling, similarly to a visit at the physician. But apparently it was his privates that were going to be fiddled with. The thought was nearly enough for him to start missing the cage. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough for his raging hard-on to dwindle. In fact, another type of tightness between his legs caught his immediate attention.

Javal's arousing touch might have been gone, but his leaking wolfhood kept throbbing with each pulse of need, growing big under his taut belly. With the young wolf's hefty shaft, his knot was also bound to swell from the excitement. As horny, as Vidar was, it took only moments before the stretch within his furry sheath became utterly uncomfortable.

"C-cat..." He groaned, fidgeting within his binds. "A little help here?"

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Well... just look down there." Muttered the wolf, feeling his muzzle burning up. Suddenly it was difficult to talk. "What's wrong with-unghhhh... what's wrong with this picture?"

"Ah, I see. Pretty tight in there, and so quickly!"

He could sense the cat approaching, and soon the feline's paw carefully pulled his sheath back, freeing him entirely. "There you go..."

Panting in relief, the wolf could feel himself swelling rapidly to his full mast.

"You weren't very direct in your request, despite the obvious inconvenience," noticed the cat with slight amusement. "Was it this embarrassing to ask for help with your knot?"

Vidar winced, feeling the heat spreading on his muzzle. Of course, he would comment on that.

"Would you... drop it?" He growled. "It's humiliating enough as it is."

"Oh... if you feel this way, I apologize then," conceded the cat with a hint of uneasiness in his voice. "I like to think I treat each subject of my craft with sufficient modicum of common decency in our time together-... that means if they deserve it."

"Well... can't argue with that."

"Thank you. However, I cannot guarantee what will become of you once you leave this place. Do consider that at this point it would be reasonable to master certain reflexes when it comes to shame. It may make your future life easier."

That made the young spy shut his muzzle. Never before the older feline opened up like that about his fate. If he was completely honest with himself, the ocelot's words weren't that big of a revelation. Vidar had his suspicions about his stay at Javal's since he half-consciously heard Maskim mentioning the potential turnaround from him. And then there was a simple fact that... Javal had never used him. Never even stripped before him. And the ocelot was far from disinterested, as the lupine's eager wolfhood reminded him in this very moment, splashing the floor beneath with another shot of slick precum. He was so horny that even simple thought triggered him this far... and as if on cue, Vidar felt a warm hand closing around him, just behind his engorged knot, shaking him out of his reverie.

"We need you pointing straight down, my wolf friend. I will now tie a ribbon behind your knot. The other end I will tie to a ring on the floor. Will keep this beautiful cock of yours in position," explained the cat. "It is silk, so it shouldn't chafe your skin, but please try to loosen up and not flex too much while I work."

"And what's that for?" Vidar heard himself asking, although unsure if he really wanted to know anything more. One thing was certain - his erection wasn't going anywhere like that.

"It will be easier for me to apply the runes this way. Besides, as I already mentioned, you are leaking constantly, my friend. It could stream down your length and smear the magical ink. We want to avoid this at all costs."

"Oh yes, that would be a shame," grumbled the wolf. And then his hackles shot up in realization. "Wait! Smear the ink? You mean... W-where... where do the runes go?"

There was no answer for a moment, but then the cat simply tapped his throbbing wolfhood with one finger.

"You're kidding."

"It would be rather atrocious to be mocking you like this. You do know me better, by now, mister Vidar."

He felt the wave of heat spreading through his body, that had nothing to do with pleasure. Sickness in his stomach urged him to act, to struggle against his bindings.

"This is fucked up," huffed the wolf, splaying his ears. He could feel his tail tuck itself between his legs in a vain attempt to cover his wolfhood. "This is so fucked up!"

His panic though was as short-lived as it was sudden. He felt the silky cord tightening at the root of his hard cock. The first tug was careful, deliberate, but Javal certainly meant business when he tugged at the rope again and in one firm move bent the lupine's rock hard shaft away from his belly, straight towards the floor.

"Nghhh... f-fuck!" The wolf growled painfully, surprised by the cat's move. It didn't just feel uncomfortable, but the new position brought in the new kind of strain between his legs. In his aroused state, Vidar could only perceive it as yet another batch of sexual frustration to endure.

"How does it feel? Bearable?" Inquired Javal with, of course, his genuine concern.

"H-huhh, let me think... how about the better idea. C-come back here and pick up that sucking where you left it. I get to cum, then you can grant me with that magic cock enchantments."

Expectedly, the feline answered him with an amused laugh.

"I enjoy your company, Vidar, my friend. It takes a certain amount of courage to keep your sense of humor in such a situation."

Or a certain amount of fear, Vidar thought, bitterly. But the irony wasn't working. It was not going to save him from the feline's ominous magic. And it was not going to grant him sexual release. The point was not that he really expected it would. He just hoped it would. The point was, that conveying his pleads under the veil of sarcasm was the last way he could think of that would let him preserve the remains of his dignity. It was failing him in both areas. In the end, he was left with a dismaying feeling of helplessness. There was no stopping the cat. He could only brace himself for the inevitable.

His next words he was mustering in silence, swallowing nervously a good dozen times, before finally, he forced the question out.

"What will the runes do?"

"A couple of things, really. The best way to put it is that they will expand your sensitivity, virility... and your endurance."

"Endurance? As in...?"

"During intercourse, yes."

"Hmph." Grumbled the wolf. "Sure. And the bondage is for decoration, right? Where's the catch?"

"No catch. Only the intended results. You will discover all the changes by yourself after we're done," assured him the cat. "This way will be best."

He's dodging, thought Vidar. That was obvious. His suspicions only added to his fright. Either the cat didn't know, or it was something bad. And of course, the first option was absurd. The young spy decided it wasn't worth more prying - it was happening either way.

"Will it hurt?"

"Nothing too bad," answered the cat reassuringly. "I will apply the ink with a special marker. It's pointy, but not sharp, and I will be very careful. It is also up to you to stay calm and not fidget too much. When we're done, we'll have to let the ink sink in."

"Sink... in?"

"Yes - imprint into your body. As opposed to some of my devices, I use a technique that makes the runes sink deeper into your flesh and disappear from your skin, so you don't walk around glowing, like a lantern," explained the cat with a chuckle. "I am most relieved that the customer does not wish to obstruct your natural beauty."

"Right," uttered Vidar. "Lucky me."

All the details explained by the ocelot made it easy to forget the whole point. He had his thoughts about that too.

"The customer..."

"I don't know," answered the ocelot matter-of-factly. A trained response.

"Don't know, or don't tell?"

"You are free not to believe me, but I only know the specifics of the order when I accept a contract. The safest way to do business."

Vidar had no cause to doubt Javal's words on that. It's reasonable, he thought. Spy dealings were no different.

"And what would you say, by what's in the contract, my bright future is?" The wolf inquired resolutely.

"Your future is your own, my wolf. I am not a part of it."

And that was the end of it. Then, after some more comings and goings on the cat's part, the procedure finally began. And, unexpectedly, it began with pleasure. Vidar let out a shuddering moan when, once again, the slippery warmth of the feline muzzle embraced his knotted length. Javal expertly took him up to his engorged knot. And then, clamping his mouth tightly around the lupine's hard shaft, he started withdrawing. The ring of his lips slid along the stiff member, milking it for all it was worth. The wolf half-grunted, half-whimpered under the pressure of the cat's lips, flooding the feline's hot caveat with a load of precum. However, with a rough kiss of the sandpapery tongue on the tip of his cock, and an approving profanity on his side, Vidar was once again left eager and hanging.

"I am sorry."

"W-what? Because you stopped? Be my guest and-..."

"This will sting a little."

Out of nowhere, sharp, sweet smell reached his nostrils, and just after, wet cloth wrapped around his shaft, shocking the fading pleasure out of existence.

"Wha-AAAUUNGHHH! OHHH FUCK!" A cry of pain spilled from his muzzle, as the wolf trashed around in his bindings.

The warmth of saliva surrendered to the biting alcoholic burn. The bastard could have set him on fire just as well! It was maddening! As his eyes watered under the blindfold, the poor wolf splayed his ears, trying to shield his dignity from his own pitiful cries. It was mere seconds before the cat slid the cloth down his length and it was gone. The hurt in his cramping muscles stayed longer, as the wolf sagged in his bound, suspended form, panting from exertion.

"Whhuhh-... what the hell?!" He huffed finally, not bothering to hide his anger.

"I have to dry your skin a bit. And some disinfection won't hurt."

"Oh, well then...! I appreciate the warning!" Growled Vidar.

"Wouldn't hurt you less if I warned you. You would only get unnecessarily nervous."

Javal's good-natured logic was often disarming, to say the least. Vidar grumbled, frustrated, with no choice, but to experience the fiery burning tormenting his wolfhood. It was dying down with each ragged breath of his, but it was hardly quick enough for the suffering canine. It also did nothing to his throbbing erection, going strong as ever. His knot wouldn't just shrink down like that and the tightly tied silk ribbon was just another mean to secure him pointing down. Nice and hard.

A moment or two later, the wolf felt a stream of cold air, as Javal gently blew over his length. Vidar hissed at the slight throb of the sensations returning, but it was only brief, before something else, entirely different flashed through the nerves in his loins, making him jump.

It was nothing like he ever felt before. He wasn't even sure whether it was a touch, or just a stinging spark within his stiff cock, a nerve acting out. It flashed quickly, just where his knot was and then was gone. But then, there it was again, in the very same place! Or was it?

"Do you feel it?"

"Feel w-what...? I'm not sure. It stings. It's cold, but... h-hah, it's warm at the same time. I can't... what are you doing?"

"That's what the ink feels like. As I said, the marker is still sharp enough to cause damage, so please, try to stay still. That goes for your cock, too. We are going to be at it for a while."

Hardly ever was Javal guilty of understatements. That being said, it was the absolute first time for calligraphy to bring Vidar to tears.

The young wolf fought to stay still, while the tiny tip of the ocelot's special device licked the delicate skin of his engorged shaft. It was as if somebody traced over his wolfhood with an icicle and a hot poker at once.

Minutes dragged on, slow, like strokes of the marking point in Javal's hand. The feline was taking his time. Though no words were spoken, Vidar noticed the striking similarity between Javal's composed demeanor whenever he spoke and how he was applying the runes. Just as the ocelot always seemed to weigh his words, just the same way each symbol was drawn on the wolf's vulnerable flesh with care and diligence. Little did that matter, though, for the young lupine overwhelmed with sensations.

For a while... The words seared into his mind, as they haunted him. He recalled them with spite, and anger, gnashing his teeth in pain. A while... he grasped at them desperately, when it hurt so much, that he couldn't keep himself from throbbing with lust. What was happening?! Was it this horrible magic? Was his mind playing tricks on him?! Frantically, he searched for some explanation that made any sense, some promise that he wasn't going insane, or that his nerves weren't damaged so he couldn't tell pain and pleasure apart anymore. But his mind was void, as an empty pool. There were no bright resolutions to quench that thirst.

The tiniest touch felt stronger by tenfold, spurring the heat in his loins. Pleasure and pain peaked together, deep in their strange back and forth over which one was to dominate his senses. None seemed to be gaining the upper hand in that fight, and quickly Vidar realized, it was him, who was the only loser.

As Javal circled him, drawing runes all around his swollen girth, he felt the sensations flare-up, following the cat's additions, relentlessly enveloping his stiff maleness in a shroud of searing torment. When the cat was done with his knot, he descended towards his shaft. With minutes passing the blaze kept growing. The erotic anguish was spreading like fire, swallowing him inch by inch. The overwhelming sensations squeezed tears from his eyes under the blindfold. Soon enough he could feel the wet spots on the fabric. If the ocelot noticed, he was merciful enough not to comment on it, certainly opting to stay focused on his work. That left the room in complete silence, disrupted only by held back whimpers and moans of hurtful frustration. At one point, the pain in his clenched jaw became unbearable, and Vidar could no longer keep his whimpers restrained behind the wall of his teeth. He let his jaw go slack, releasing the torrent of sounds he wished he never heard himself produce.

The reflexive splay of his ears did little to shield the tatters of his dignity, although Vidar didn't really think he had a single damn left to give. The end of this torment couldn't come fast enough. Time slowed down to a trickle, matching the pace of the cat dealing with his work. The wolf could tell exactly which spots on his cock were being covered, but as if it wasn't enough, with his sight taken from him, every tiniest touch was a sting of pain and pleasure. With every swipe of the magical marker over the smooth skin on his length, the young lupine shivered in his bindings, slightly rocking the frame holding him in the air.

It was always getting the worst when the ocelot worked on the underside of his cock, Vidar noticed. Those were the moments he was the closest to... breaking? What could that even mean in his situation? Where did that word emerge from? Nobody was breaking him, there were no secrets to give up, to avert a threat if it was never spoken into existence.

His next groan died down on his lips barely a note from becoming a scream. Of pain? Of pleasure? There was no difference anymore! The simplest thought escaped his grasps, and there was nothing, but two months of erotic torments he suffered at the hands of the ever gentlemanly feline bastard, messing up his mind.

Every stroke was bringing him closer to the edge. The edge of what? Was it that edge? He begged in his mind it was that edge. The mark put its cruel, pointy end on the very tip of his aching wolfhood. The diligent paw moved with skill, weaving lines of fire over his tapered cockhead, while another seized the throbbing lupine length by the bulged knot. The pain was horrible. The pain was sweet. So close to pleasure, so close to... the surge overwhelmed him. His loins trembled with the desire making him buck his hips forward, trashing in his bindings. His massive cock throbbed between his legs. The suffering wolf felt as if hundreds of white-hot needles pierced through his engorged, spasming flesh. It was unbearable. And then he went past the breaking point.

His powerful muscles strained within his body when he lurched in his bindings. When his limits finally broke, the wolf screamed his lungs out, in anguish. Cry after cry shot from his pulsing throat, splattering on the cold walls, dying in their own echoes, desperate, unsatisfied, humiliating testimonies of his unquenched, burning desire. That was the only release given to him. A vocal one. But in the throes of his sexual madness, he somehow felt the ocelot's nimble paws letting go of him. And he could find no strength in himself to accept that.

"P-please!" He begged, shivering like a leaf.

"I'm sorry."

"N-nooo..." Vidar shook his head, letting the words spill out with a stream of saliva dripping from his dried lips. "N-no! F-FUCK YOU! And fuck yer sorry... Yer not sorry... Y-ya never are... A-and I don't fuckin' care! J-just... let me..."

"I cannot do that."

"Just once. J-just... ONE. FUCKIN' TIME!"

There was a pause after that, while the wolf hanged in his bindings, heated and huffing. The cat wasn't talking. Vidar didn't feel the tip of the marker on his skin anymore. Maybe the feline was considering it? The young wolf dared to hope. Gods, I'm begging... But it was foolish.

"Listen," the ocelot started, that gentle warmth in his voice, vanguarding that one twisted word, foul in his mouth. He was not having it.

"NO! S-shut up!" He yelled, fuming with sudden anger. "Stop sayin' that! I'm not yer fuckin' friend! I don't wanna hear that ever again!"

As his shout echoed off the stone walls, Vidar huffed and swallowed to get rid of his drool. Then he continued.

"I'm your experiment. Your piece of art. Whatever, I... I fucking get it! You will do what you have to, and sell me off like an object. But this... facade... It's not bloody right. It's infuriating!"

Another kind of shudder shook his body at the very thought. And then, before he managed to speak his mind, bright light made him squint, as the blindfold was quickly pulled off his head.

"And would that be preferable?" Asked Javal his flatly, not waiting for the wolf to get used to the light. "Would you feel better if I treated you as an object?"

The lupine had to blink a couple of times before his eyes had adjusted, so he could open them to regard the feline. His short muzzle was unreadable, but the wolf caught on to the slight frown that pulled together the two dark streaks of fur running across his forehead. Seeing the cat irate was indeed a rare occurrence. Rare and quite vexing, nevermind that the pointy marking tool was at the moment resting in the chest pocket of the ocelot's gown, nowhere near the wolf's aching manhood.

"What, no answer?" Javal almost growled. His tone, just as his muzzle, betraying that his calm poise was wavering, "no witty quips, or lowlife slur?"

Vidar could swear there was almost a challenge in the cat's eyes. Huffing, he met the feline's stern gaze, but all he could muster was a frown and clenched teeth. He wanted no more pain and frustration. He wanted to cum. He wanted that particular thing so, so much. Disputing the ocelot was long down the list. Just breathe, he ordered himself. Breathe and don't drop your eyes.

"So I thought," the cat said flatly, moving back under him. "I understand your frustration. It's hard to control your rage. But on a side note, never speak to me in this peasant blather again. It's unpleasant. You are not some war camp cur."

No, it wasn't a challenge, the wolf realized. He had read the cat wrong. It was... Disappointment?

"For all you know... I might just be," he said.

"What kind of criminals do you think, usually end up here, in your position?"

"Mmhhh..." The wolf sighed, at a loss. He was hardly in mental shape for quizzes. "What's your point?"

"I've worked with my fair share of scumbags in my profession" the cat went on, his voice by now, back to its gentle, usual self. "While it's not exactly true to declare that if you've met one, you've met them all, it's still accurate enough. In most cases. You are different. Polite, when not enraged, that is. And I was telling the truth, you are quite an enjoyable company."

Vidar couldn't hold a snigger at that.

"You disagree?"

"Ah... h-hahahah... sorry. It's just that," the wolf shook his head, disarmed by his own sudden amusement, "usually they come on to me before tying me up naked and hard, not after."

That got Javal to chuckle himself.

"See?" He noted. "Although, my point is that, considering the circumstances, it's absurd of you to complain about me being polite. I will blame it on your state, though."

Having said that, the cat took ahold of Vidar's wolfhood by his swollen knot, as if inspecting it. As soon as he felt those fingers on himself, the young wolf shuddered and moaned from the sudden sensation. His hard cock strained in the cat's grasp, shooting hot precum down to the floor.

"F-fuck!" He gasped. From a single touch... He felt pathetic. Like a virgin, no less. "P-please... let go. Let go!"

"Is it that bad?" There it was, that misplaced compassion in his voice, back again.

It was bad. But it was only half of the truth. Every touch was just... he couldn't' take it. Obviously the cat was going to leave him high and dry. Again. He was fighting with all his might to hold off from begging Javal for orgasm anew.

"It feels raw! Burning like hell!"

"Yes, that is to be expected," explained the ocelot. "But it's drying up nicely. It will sink into your skin in a couple of hours. Irritation usually goes away after two or three days, but that's on regular skin, and in your case..." the ocelot re-appeared before his eyes, taking off his working gown, "skin on your member will take some more time to heal. No cuts, no blood, though," he added more cheerfully, "a very clean job. Your fortitude is admirable, mister Vidar. I had men crying over just a couple of runes. You are the first one I covered entirely and yet, also the first one to only break down at the very end. You are a tough specimen, my friend."

Here we go again... thought the wolf, exasperated.

As if to emphasize the label he was constantly forcing on their relationship, Javal brought up the wineskin under his muzzle. The wolf gratefully accepted, gulping the liquor greedily. His thirst was one thing, his lust was another. Anything to quell his overwhelming desire. And the pain. He must've had drunk at least half of it until the need for air finally won over. The feline immediately busied himself with sorting out all sorts of equipment he apparently used for the procedure, occasionally chatting up to the wolf. As if all that had just transpired was the most normal thing in the world.

At this point, Vidar ceased to really listen to the talking ocelot. Instead, he only followed the cat rummaging around the chamber with his gaze, cleaning up and putting the place in order after his work. His movements were weary, so were his eyes, a bit devoid of their usual gleam. Was that just fatigue, or was it somehow related to whatever magical atrocity the feline had just performed on him? He himself didn't have the strength to hold on to the thought, so he let it go.

Something else bothered him. The thing Javal had said. If I'm the first covered... entirely. What does that mean? Apart from the obvious, that was. He wasn't a fool to believe the cat's words about the blessing effects of the runes on improving his bedroom stamina. Not that he needed that in the first place. Something was wrong in all of this. Very wrong. And he was too afraid to ask.

He could feel his hackles rising at the thought. He was a warrior, he could understand direct harm and take it. Honest, fair. He was a spy, too, although not nearly as good as he was with sidearms, he was far from unfamiliar with all the dirty moves and tactics that came with that line of work, either. But magic... this sort of magic in particular. Tampering with his body, to permanently change it to someone's requirements... to someone's desires, he had no doubt that was the case. It was outrageous. It was terrifying that anyone would have this kind of power over others. No measure of sweet talk and impeccable manners covered for such atrocities. And of all the people, Javal was aware of that. The wolf was certain about it.

"I saw that thing... the other day, you know?" he heard himself speaking to Javal. "A message carved on the side of the bed leg."

"Really?" The cat's ears turned to him in sincere interest. "What does it say?"

"Just one word, you know...? A single word. Monster."

That stopped him in his tracks. He turned to Vidar, regarding him with a gentle smile.

"Hmm... quite judgemental. And such an overstatement, isn't it? But... perhaps not? I sense you want to make some point here, so... what do you think?"

"Oh, I don't know... you're such a nice guy, after all," snorted the lupine. "You are not doing anything wrong to me, right?"

"In this world, we're all monsters, mister Vidar. Being dramatic about it doesn't put you on the moral high ground. Nor does being a victim," explained the cat, matter-of-factly. "Besides, Maskim only takes prisoners. You were imprisoned for some specific reason-"

"-we've been over this, I'm not telling-"

"-and I'm not asking. Please, excuse me for this small interruption, although... you started it," chuckled the cat, as he stood before him, "but as I see it, the dragons had put you in the dungeon. You have to answer for whatever crimes you have committed. Have you stolen something to end up in prison? Or maybe killed? You don't strike me as a rapist, but then, in the end, it doesn't matter. You had been a monster to someone too. You should be grateful you didn't get sent to a quarry. With such a strong body..."

"My body is still being used," he pointed out. "And I'm not so sure I like this way better."

"You think all the slaves in the Wolf Kingdom enjoy their profession?" Retorted the cat, taking ahold of his chin. He could feel the stream of warm air from Javal's muzzle tickling his whiskers. The yellow eyes pierced through him with intensity, when he asked that question. His slanted pupils sharp like daggers. It's personal now, noticed the wolf.

"You've lost your words. It's usually this way... getting the bad end of the deal changes your perspective. I could tell you a thing, or two about it."

"You... you were one. You were a slave once, right?"

Javal stared him in the eyes, visibly mulling over his words.

"If you plan to keep up the poise of a simple henchman in the future, do better," he said at length, letting go of him.

The way the ocelot choose to address his question only reinforced the wolf's suspicions. It was... hard to believe though!

"And you do this? All this shit you're doing to me? For... for whatever fucker that ordered me?!"

"It's business. It's art. And... it's the work of my life."

"IT'S NOT RIGHT!" Growled the wolf. The hypocrisy was just overwhelming!

"Says an outlaw," quipped Javal. "Many things are not right. War is not right. Everyone knows that. Yet we love to slaughter each other for a variety of reasons. And nobody seems to really care about that. Why should anyone care about slavery?"

"The bears do."

"Let's say they do. And did you swear your allegiance to them?"

Vidar opened his muzzle to argue, but... there were no words to say. He was not going to reveal a thing about himself to win an argument!

"How can you be doing this?! With your past..." He huffed, resentment oozing from his voice.

"I said nothing about my past. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. Maybe I wasn't a slave, maybe I was. If not, then your argument is irrelevant. If yes, then it's simply wrong."

"How am I wrong here?!"

"Falling victim does not instill virtue. Not in you, nor in anyone else. Myself included. If men choose to throw swords aside having had found themselves at the pointy end just this once, we would be rid of armed conflicts in one generation. That is clearly, not the case."

What the cat was saying didn't sit right with Vidar. But with his mind clouded by pain and desire, he struggled to even follow the cat's ideas, not mentioning countering them. He huffed, favoring Javal with a frown of frustration.

"What is the case, then?" He uttered.

"That you are a monster yourself, my lupine friend. A monster ensnared. And I am your monster now. And only one to prepare you for your real punishment, at that. That's where this sudden change in your moral compass comes from. Fear. And anger. And that's also why it has no value. You have every right to judge me, in fact, I'm thrilled and thankful for such a meaningful conversation," Javal smiled at that, and went on, as he headed towards the doors. "But I'm also tired, and I am not going to indulge your frightened animal's instincts any longer today. You won't wake any remorse in me, mister Vidar. It won't give you your freedom back. That life is over," he declared crossing the doorstep. "I suggest accepting that."