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Jax carefully eyed the tower window far above. The wizard's keep was reputed to have many guardians, but so far, these had proved ineffective. The young coyote's yellow eyes darted here and there, alert for any suspicious movement. His long golden ears swiveled this way and that, searching for any untoward sounds.

Except for the snoring of the guard dogs, there was no sound. Those had proven easy enough to take care of, as had the two guards at the gate to the small keep's courtyard. A certain powder, sprinkled down the chimney pipe of the small stove in the guard's shack had rendered them senseless. Small darts shot from Jax's blowpipe, coated with a carefully-manufactured oil had sent the dogs into a deep sleep as well.

Briefly checking the tools he carried about his deep grey clothing, Jax reflected that this keep was one of the most woefully guarded places he'd ever taken the time to break in to. Perhaps he'd leave a brief note to that effect in place of the item he was about to obtain.

After satisfying himself that all was clear, he took a running start and leaped for a small banner post ten feet up the wall, jutting out above the smooth lower skirt of the tower. His clawed hands caught the thin metal post, and he swung his lean, wiry body up onto it.

Above the stone skirting, the masonry was hardly a challenge. Clawed hands and feet seeking tiny finger and toe-holds, Jax carefully made his way up the tower of Sevenfire, court enchanter for the Duc of Stonespire.

Soon, Sevenfire would know that what was stolen once could easily be stolen again. The slim young coyote could not yet understand why the sorcerers and knowledge-keepers of the human lands did not simply share their expertise with one another, for the betterment of all, as they did in his own homeland.

Here, knowledge was not hidden merely from outsiders or the foolish, but by one master from the other. Even within the cities, everyone was a potential enemy, and those with power hoarded it - and sometimes stole it.

Jax had been hired by a man claiming to represent a contemporary of the wizard Sevenfire, claiming that the latter had stolen an artifact of great value - a seeing stone carved of the living crystal of Craningsky peak. The faceless wizard who employed the young coyote thief had provided an amulet which he swore would take the bearer past the magical warnings of Sevenfire's keep. With it, a clever thief would only have to worry about mundane alarms or guards.

Three times, it had pulsed warmly against Jax's furry chest, where the charm rested inside his garments - at the edge of the barrier wall, then again as he crossed the path that led to one of the keep's rear entrances, and once more when the small coyote passed the lip of the skirting at the base of the tower. His nameless patron had advised that the charm would do so whenever it met a warding it could bypass. Should it encounter something beyond it's power, it would flare suddenly with cold.

As the nimble coyote thief reached a high window of the tower, he peered in to see a dim, dusty room, with vague shapes that must be furniture. The window was barred, but the bars were old and widely spaced. They might block a larger creature, but the small, lean-framed Jax was able to worm his way between them with only a minute's effort. The amulet pulsed twice more against his breast before he wriggled through.

The room was set up like a small reading room, but looked as though it were rarely-used. Dust covered many of the surfaces, and some of the furnishings were covered with thick cloths. There was no glass in the window, and the room thus lay partly open to the elements, but inside it was warm and dry. Wizard's work, surely.

He sniffed, his long muzzle twitching, and detected, under the smell of dust, old wood, stone and paper... something feline. Yes. A distinct smell of cat, and not a housecat. He hoped there wouldn't prove to be a large guardian animal on the premises. Just in case, he readied his blowpipe and a needle coated with the sleep-drug, after drawing on a pair of thin leather gloves, to protect himself from accidental contact with the mixture.

The item he was to obtain was supposed to be kept in the tallest tower of the keep, in a room nearest the sky. That meant going up further. Jax carefully listened for sounds beyond the single door leading from the chamber, and heard nothing. He carefully opened it, after oiling the hinges against noise, and stepped onto a small landing. A stair coiled out of sight above and below. Jax carefully made his way upward.

After a short climb, he found a landing with a single door. The amulet at his chest pulsed again as he set foot upon the landing. The door itself swung open, noiselessly at a simple push.

The room beyond was open to the night sky, and dimly lit with magelights. Faintly-glowing occult signs marked the floor and walls, and delicate tapestries hung across windows. As the coyote thief looked around, a bat wheeled overhead, chasing a bug into the open chamber, but seemed to strike something invisible and bounce away. It fluttered off, dazed. So the room had a roof, if an unseen one.

Starlight limned a small pedestal set slightly off-center in the chamber, a small rectangular shape atop it, covered by a silvery cloth. Slowly, Jax made his way toward what was surely his prize. The amulet pulsed once as he approached, and thereafter was still.

The pedestal turned out to be a simple table, though of finely-wrought dark wood. Jax carefully nudged the cloth away from the small shape atop it. Underneath was a silver box, such as a lady of the human lands might use to keep trinkets. Carefully, he lifted the lid with a stiff wire, which he drew from a small sheath on his belt. It wasn't even locked.

Inside lay a perfect sphere of transparent crystal, amid the crumpled folds of a small pile of black velvet. Nothing happened when he tapped it gently with the wire, and even the amulet lay still against his chest.

Gingerly, he reached out with one gloved paw to take the orb, but it didn't move from the pile of velvet. The object seemed to be firmly fastened in place. Jax then realized that his glove did not slide across it's surface, but was itself stuck in place, as if it had been glued - he should have known that a wizard would have at least some protections in place for a valuable item. Cursing, Jax moved to draw his hand from the glove itself, but when his other hand touched the glove, it too became stuck. He quickly realized that the gloves were not only stuck to the orb, but to each other.

And to his hands.

Concerned now, he tried to lift the entire box from the table, but it too was stuck fast. When he foolishly put a foot paw against the table, to tug, the foot became stuck also - the enchantment was not focused merely on the box. He cursed himself, inwardly, and the amulet, also, as it sat silent and cool against his breast, neither pulsing warmly, nor reacting with a warning chill.

He was stuck, atop the wizard's tower, halted in the act of thievery. There was no telling how long it would be before some guardian, or Sevenfire himself arrived, nor of how unpleasant a fate would follow on the heels of their wrath.

Jax reached down with his long muzzle until he was able to tug open the front of his tight jacket, and get the cord upon which the amulet hung between his teeth. Awkwardly leaning forward, he dangled it close to where his hands lay trapped, hoping that somehow its sorceries would extend to weakening this magic, as it supposedly did to spells of warning.

The chain slipped slightly between his teeth, and the small iron medallion fell, struck the surface of the orb... and stuck. With mounting horror, Jax realized that the amulet was stuck to the orb, and from there to the chain... which was now stuck to his teeth and tongue.

Jax cursed himself for an idiot and a fool, and then concentrated on fighting the urge to panic.

--

It was long after daybreak when Jax finally heard noises. He'd long before slumped against the ensorcelled orb and box, and now his whole upper body was stuck. He couldn't turn to see who had come up behind him, but he heard a low chuckle.

"Oho, I see the master's fly paper has caught something!" came a low, threatening voice.

There was a brief, swirling darkness, a sense of pressure coalescing around him, and Jax felt his head spin. He had only a moment to realize that he'd been struck by a spell, before falling into unconsciousness.

--

The blackness slowly faded, and Jax opened his eyes. His limbs ached and when he tried to move them, he couldn't. Something bound his arms and legs at wrists and ankles, and his back was stretched painfully against some hard and unforgiving surface. He could see stone walls and ceiling, lit by some hard, clear light.

"So, the little fly awakens," came the voice he'd heard in the tower.

Jax turned his head, with difficulty, as the spell-born muzziness fled from his skull. A tall figure stepped into view. The tawny features of a lion-kin looked out from a regal mane of near-black curls. His captor wore loose silk leggings and loincloth, held up by a wide belt of dark leather. A trail of dark fur proceeded from the rich mane and down the golden-furred and powerfully muscled belly. A long tail swished idly behind the huge male.

"So, little fly," the lion rumbled pleasantly, "Do you have anything to say for yourself? Surely you know that none rob the house of Sevenfire with impunity. Perhaps if you share a droll enough explanation, the sorceror will be pleased enough to spare your miserable little life?"

Jax strained to look up and down. He could see that his wrists and ankles were bound, spread-eagled, to what appeared to be a huge wooden cross, by heavy manacles of dark iron.

"That's right, little fly," said the lion, "Though you are no longer held by magic, you are still quite stuck. So, again I find myself asking - do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The coyote cleared his throat, and replied, "What could I possibly say?"

"Well," the lion purred, stepping closer, "since it is probably unimportant who you are, and we already know who you were stealing from, you might start by telling me who you were stealing for."

"I work only for myself," Jax lied, defiantly.

"But what you were trying to take is not something that would likely be of much use to you. And the amulet you used to enter is something clearly beyond your skills to create. Why, I seriously doubt your Gift is at all trained."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jax spluttered, attempting to summon some show of bravado. "I entered this place to test my skills. The amulet I took from another. Now that I am caught, what excuse could I make? You have me. I was stealing from you. I am at your mercy," Jax replied, trying to keep his voice even.

The other male stood so close that the small coyote could feel the warmth of his flesh. A strong hand came up to grip either side of Jax's jaw, turning his head this way and that. Blue-green eyes stared deep into his own, as the leonine muzzle sniffed his scent.

"I seriously doubt nearly everything you've just said, little fly," said the lion, allowing the curved nails to extend slightly from his fingertips to prick Jax's muzzle. "Know you that it is my master, the sorceror Sevenfire, from whom you tried to steal."

"I... I cannot offer anything as recompense, but my apologies and my services. If your master will spare me, I will work for him. I can..."

Powerful fingers closed around Jax's muzzle, cutting off the words.

"And what use would be the services of a thief, so easily caught? Perhaps you will have some use, but first, let us see what we'd be getting. I don't believe I've ever gotten a close look at one such as yourself."

Still holding Jax's muzzle with one hand, the other trailed down his neck to the top of his collar. Jax shut his eyes as he felt the clawed hand rip back and forth, tearing the fastenings of his vest open.

A moment later, the grip around his muzzle was released.

"Since you have so graciously offered your services, in lieu of something useful, such as the identity of whoever put you up to this little endeavor, I intend to see what I'm getting. If you should happen to remember who you were working for, please, feel free to say so at any time."

"I didn't..." Jax began.

The blue-green eyes flickered to look into his own. "Speak any more lies to me, little puppy, and it will go hard with you."

Jax felt the strong hands grab the front of his shirt and tear the fabric open with bared claws, ripping through first one sleeve, then the other. The entire garment was yanked away, in shreds, leaving his chest and belly bare.

The lion walked slowly around the bound coyote, tail lashing. When he came to stand in front of Jax, he stared into the smaller creature's eyes, as he drew a short knife from his belt. Jax felt the lion's other hand grab the front of his belt, tugging it away from his belly. The knife slipped in under the belt and the thin leather parted with barely a tug, the lion yanking the ruined leather strap away and tossing it to the floor.

The huge feline grabbed the waist of Jax's short trousers, and brought the knife up again. Deftly, he slit the dark fabric down through the leg, so that the fabric fell loose on one side. He repeated the process with the other leg, so that the pants fell away, hanging only by the coyote's tail in back, his groin protected only by a thin loincloth.

Still staring into Jax's eyes, he stepped in close. The coyote could feel the heat of his captor's body against his chest, through the thin cotton of his loincloth. He turned his face away from the hot breath puffing against his muzzle. With a growl, the lion seized Jax's jaws once more, clamping them tightly together, and forced his head back around.

The lion's face stretched into a malicious grin, exposing his perfect predator's teeth, the tips of his claws pricking the helpless coyote's lips. Jax felt the other arm move behind him, felt the cool hardness of the knife at the base of his spine.

"A little slip here, fly," the lion rumbled quietly into his face, "and you will bleed. If I drive my blade in with purpose, you will never walk again. If I choose to cut, that pretty flag of a tail will be a bleeding stump. Do I have your full attention?"

Jax took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling moving through his limbs. He felt the knife slip down, the point lightly scraping through his fur and along the skin beneath, until it passed through the tail opening on the ruined trousers. A quick downward sawing motion, and the fabric parted, the remains of his pants falling to the floor in a small rustle of cloth.

"I will ask again," said the lion, stepping back, and releasing Jax's muzzle, "who were you working for?"

"I told you," said Jax, "I don't work for anyone."

The lion paced back and forth, fingering the edge of the little knife. When no more response came, he sighed dramatically.

"Well, while we wait for your memory to improve, let us see what sort of slave you might make."

The tall leonine stepped forward, and stuck a finger between Jax's furry belly and the thin cord that held up his loincloth.

"Would you be worth keeping intact, for breeding perhaps?" the lion asked.

Jax tensed as he felt the tip of the knife against the fabric of his loincloth, alongside his sheath. The point scratched downward, until he felt the sharp tip of the blade against his balls. The coyote felt them draw tightly against his groin.

"Or would you be better gelded? I've heard that once gelded, a slave is more tractable. Perhaps if you were more tractable, you'd tell me what I want to know, without all this trouble."

Jax squeezed his eyes closed, weighing in his mind whether he should simply reveal who he'd been working for. He felt a professional duty to protect those who hired him, for his own safety as well as theirs, but then, he'd never failed so spectacularly as tonight. He'd sometimes failed to obtain his goal, but had never been captured. He might have no choice but to tell the lion what he wanted to know. The problem was, there was no real way to be sure of the identity of his employer.

For exactly this reason.

There was a yank at his waist, the cord digging into his lower back, as the lion pulled it forward. A slight snap as the string parted, cut away. Jax opened his eyes in time to see the lion tossing away the thin scrap of cloth that had protected the young coyote thief's groin.

"Well, it would surely be a shame to geld you," he said, eyeing Jax's heavy sheath and balls, appraisingly. Without looking up he said, "but if all those lovely jewels will produce is difficult seed, perhaps it is for the best."

Jax hung there, helpless, naked, watching his captor stare at his naked groin. With a sense of growing alarm, he saw that the front of the lion's silken loincloth was tented with the beginnings of an erection, the pointed member within pressing against the thin fabric that held it at bay. His captor was clearly enjoying this, and perhaps had other motivations than merely pressing his prisoner for information. Perhaps he didn't even really want to know, and was merely playing with him.

The lion stepped close and grabbed. Jax felt strong fingers moving around to seize his unprotected balls by the base. When he'd been firmly grabbed, those fingers began to tighten.

Jax felt a short yip of pain escape his throat as his captor squeezed hard, crushing the heavy orbs of his manhood against one another. Stars danced in his vision as pain shot up from his testicles to wrap around his spine.

"Does that hurt, little fly?" the lion asked. "The best is yet to come, unless you tell me what I want to know."

Jax felt the pressure on his organs release suddenly. He took in a sharp gasp of breath.

"Okay. I was working for someone," Jax spat out, angrily, through gritted teeth.

"This I already know, little fly," the lion purred, "What I want to know is who?"

Jax felt the hand on his testicles begin to squeeze again, the fingers slowly rolling the trapped organs around.

"I don't know who he was. He didn't tell me..." Jax found his words cut off as the hand at his groin squeezed and twisted suddenly. He cried out, a short howl of pain surprised out of him.

"I am beginning to wonder, little fly, if you are enjoying this. I know I am."

Jax hissed out, through clenched teeth, "You bastard, I'm telling you the truth. I don't know who he is. Or if it's a he. Or if the person I spoke to was the one who hired me or just an intermediary."

"You lied to me before," said the lion, grinning, his massive predator's teeth gleaming, "Why should I think you are telling the truth now?"

The hand at his genitals vanished as the dark-maned lion stepped smoothly behind Jax. out of sight. Jax strained to turn his head to see, but could only catch a glimpse of movement at the edge of his vision.

"Look, you have me caught," the coyote said, fighting and failing to keep the fear from his voice, "I don't want to be hurt, so I'll tell you what I know."

There was only a soft, feline chuckle in response. A moment later, the lion stepped back into view, carrying a pair of slim iron stands. He set them down in front of Jax.

The coyote spoke again. "Look, it was a human, he was tall, wore a hood. He looked young, fair-haired, clean shaven. I met with him outside the great library, near the center of town. The name he gave was Korgan."

Jax was lying, of course. He hadn't betrayed a client yet, and didn't want to start by betraying a wizard, if he could avoid it.

The lion glanced up, a smirk on his face. He held up a thin cord of black silk, which seemed to appear in his hand as if by magic.

"I don't think you're being completely honest with me, little fly," he said. "Perhaps the fly will understand his position better, once he is entrapped in the spider's silk."

"Look, you don't have to do this," Jax snarled, "I'll tell you all I can. He said his name was..."

Jax's words were cut off suddenly, as the lion's hand shot out and grabbed him by the muzzle again. Strong, clawed fingers began tying the cord around Jax's jaws. The coyote tried to struggle, but to no avail. Bound as he was, he was no match for the strength of the large feline. In moments, his jaws had been firmly bound shut by cord painfully tied around his muzzle.

"Since you insist on telling only lies, I've decided to shut you up for a while, to let you think about what you'll say if you are given the chance to speak again."

Jax tried to curse his assailant, but could only force strangled, muffled noises through his bound teeth. The silk cord pressed painfully into his flesh.

"I'd keep still, if I were you, little one," purred the lion, "If you struggle, the silk may work itself tighter. Have you ever seen what happens to someone who has been muzzled too tightly for too long?"

Jax just stared, breathing heavily through his nose. He tried to control his fear, but knew that the stink of it was wafting from his body, that the whites of his eyes threatened to show around the edges of his eyelids.

The lion continued, "If someone is muzzled too tightly, the blood can't reach the flesh at the front of their face. After a while, that flesh withers and dies. Sometimes, one loses their nose, or the tip of their lying tongue. Or the rot may take away the front of their jaws, leaving them cruelly disfigured. They may die of the gangrene in their face, slowly and agonizingly."

Jax glared, with hate and fear, at his captor. He struggled in his bonds helplessly, thrashing his body to no avail.

The lion, chuckling, moved out of sight behind him again. Jax heard a metallic creaking noise, and the manacles at his wrists and ankles began to draw even tighter, stretching his limbs painfully to their limits. His struggles ceased as the pain of his stretched limbs made it impossible to move.

The lion reappeared, after a moment, running a fingertip along the taut muscles of the bound coyote's arms, down his sides, and finally along the inside of his thighs.

Crouching in front of the helpless Jax, the lion deftly reached out, once more, to grab him by the balls. As Jax watched, helpless, his captor deftly looped another black silk cord around the base of his testicles. With practiced ease, he pulled the loop tight, and wound the cord around and around the trapped organs several times. He then looped the cord tightly around each ball, pulling the cord so that the egg-shaped organs were slowly separated as he tightened the bindings about them.

He bent down and ran the other end of the cord through a small metal loop fixed in the floor, and pulled slowly and firmly on the silk. Jax felt his balls pulled painfully down and away from his body, the skin of his furry scrotum stretching to the limit. As the cord pulled downward, the knots around his balls pulled tighter and tighter. A whine of pain escaped from his trapped muzzle.

Just as he thought his flesh could stretch no farther before tearing, the lion tied the cord off. Even the smallest motion by Jax sent waves of agony tearing through his already searing, stretched limbs.

"I'd like to give you a little time to yourself to think. But while you're thinking, I want you to have a little taste of how uncomfortable it might be to continue lying to me, little trapped fly," the lion said.

Jax felt the lion's hand grab the furry thickness of his sheathed penis. The fingers played with the skin they found there, pulling it up and down along the sensitive shaft of the penis within. As the fingers stretched his sheath up, fiery pain shot from his bound and stretched balls. Finally, the maliciously grinning feline grabbed Jax's sheath firmly and pulled it down, exposing the length of the coyote's penis.

Jax whined through his bound muzzle, unable to stop himself, hating himself for giving his captor the satisfaction.

Laughing softly and menacingly, the lion tied a loop of cord around the base of Jax's shaft, trapping the folds of his retracted penile sheath around the base of his cock.

"It would be a pity for you to have to lose such impressive equipment, little thief. I hope that you feel the same way."

The lion's grip shifted, bending Jax's penis down and away from his body, so that it pointed almost straight out, away from his groin. He squeezed and released in short pulses, trapping blood within the shaft of the coyote's member. To Jax's shame and horror, against his will, his cock began to grow erect. There was nothing of pleasure in this rough handling, but a trick of canid anatomy meant that stopping the big vein at the base of his member would cause the organ to become engorged, whether he would or no. Helpless, Jax watched as the huge knot swelled at the base of his pointed shaft. The lion wrapped another length of the silk cord behind that swollen bulge, and then crossed it back and forth, to tie it around the coyote's penis in front of the knot as well.

Jax's captor positioned one of the odd little metal stands close by, and deftly tied the coyote's engorged, outstretched cock lengthwise to a small metal bar at the top.

And then he fixed a knobbed candle, sideways, to the other stand, and carefully positioned it so that the candle hung lengthwise, parallel to the length of Jax's bound cock.

The honey smell of fine beeswax drifted up to Jax's nostrils, it's sweetness strange in the confines of the dungeon around him.

"Keep in mind, little thief, that the terrible fate that could befall a too-tightly bound muzzle could also fall upon other parts of the body, similarly tied too tight and for too long. Now, so that you can note well the passage of time, I'll leave you an hour-counting candle."

Jax cringed as he realized what his captor meant to do next.

The lion made a brief gesture, and Jax, through his pain, felt the air become momentarily heavier as his captor performed a brief magical feit. There was a flash of heat, a pinprick, and the candle poised over Jax's cock flared into life.

"Be glad, little coyote. Beeswax burns so much hotter than a fine paraffin candle. But so much less than a taper of stinking tallow."

A moment later, the first drop of hot wax fell against the base of Jax's knot, right against the cords binding it. It felt like a drop of fire as it slid across and dripped down the side of his bound, engorged penis. With a muffled moan, the coyote's muscles knotted helplessly against their restraints. With a brief chuckle, the lion adjusted the candle slightly, so that the next drop fell along the very center of his captive's trapped shaft, pooling there momentarily, burning all the more as it cooled.

"And now, little fly, the spider will retire, for a while, it's prey trapped and wrapped in silk bindings. As the candle burns, do consider what you will share with me when I return."

Another drop of wax fell onto Jax's cock, burning onto the cooling spatter from the last. As he shuddered, it slid down the side of his pained member, burning as it went. Even as it cooled, the sensitive flesh smoldered with pain, the delicate skin of his organ sending the very outline of the spattered wax to his brain.

The lion stood alongside him, running his claws through the sparse fur of Jax's belly, in hideous imitation of a lover's caress.

He whispered in Jax's ear.

"I'll be back to talk with you more, little fly. Think about what you'll say to me when I return. And try, do try, not to stretch your bonds with your struggles. It would be a shame, a terrible shame, for you to lose your pretty face, or your lovely, lovely... maleness."

Another searing, scalding drop of wax fell on Jax's outstretched member, burning the tender flesh, puddling instead of dripping, so that the burn sat in one perfect, agonizing spot.

"There is nothing you can do to save yourself, my little pup, my little trapped fly. There is no-one to rescue you. I can do anything to you that I like, and you should know, cats love to play with their prey before dispatching it. Think on this until I return."

Powerful fingers pressed into Jax's unprotected abdomen, the clawtips pressing into the skin of Jax's underbelly, piercing it ever so slightly, tiny rubies of blood welling up at their piercing touch.

And then the lion was gone from his side, smoothly walking backwards on cat feet, the fine silk of his loincloth stretching away from his body, a threat and a promise of things to come.

Another drop of hot beeswax fell on Jax's unprotected penis, as the lion left the room. As his muscles spasmed at the fiery pain, Jax's balls replied with an agony of their own, tied as they were to the unforgiving iron ring in the floor.

As the heavy door slammed shut, Jax was unable to stifle a strangled whimper of pain. Feline laughter, muffled by the heavy wooden door, faded into the distance.

--

Jax hung, spread-eagled, in an eternity of pain. One moment, the pain of his bound muzzle, and the fear of disfigurement would seem to encompass his world. Then it would be overwhelmed by his stretched limbs, the aching fire of pulled tendons.

And then, a spot of honeyed fire would sizzle atop his penis, sometimes dripping down along one side or the other, burning tender flesh that had rarely been exposed even to a breeze.

He'd long ago stopped trying to contain his cries of pain. At first, he'd tried to stop his throat, not wanting his enemy, if he were nearby, to have the satisfaction of hearing him whimper or cry like a pup.

But after a time, there was no use. The only thing limiting his muffled outcries was the terror that he would vomit, and with his mouth bound, drown and die.

Before the hour-candle had burned halfway, the pain of his aching limbs and face dropped to a dull ache, and his whole body seemed to rotate on a spot of fire, centered on the last and the next drop of burning wax to fall upon his member. In his mind's eye, the tender flesh of his cock felt blistered, burned. The ache of his bound and stretched balls was a bitter agony that crawled out from his groin and up his spine, to clench in a spot above his kidneys.

After a while, Jax found himself almost outside his body. The pain seemed distant, though no less piercing. He found himself looking at the pain, trying to let it flow over him. His chosen craft had taught him to distance himself from his discomfort, as he might have to lay somewhere uncomfortable, but this was nothing compared to sitting still while a rock or thorn dug into his skin, or an inconvenient anthill provided unwelcome stings as he hid from pursuers or a target.

His mind seemed to focus on the tiny, burning point, at the bottom of his vision, of the candle burning, burning, over his most sacred part. As the candle burned, slowly, drip by searing drip, a sheath of wax had hardened over the length of his cock. So long engorged and bound at his base, the feeling in the whole of his member had dwindled to nothing, except where the terrible beeswax fell, a drop at a time.

The hot, searing, scalding drips worked themselves closer, closer, a tiny bit at a time, towards the tip of Jax's outstretched penis. Something told him, from deep inside, that when that terrible burning wax fell on the delicate, pointed tip, that pain would be the worst of all. And even more than that, once it did, his tormentor would return, and perhaps do worse yet. The candle counted out the hour, drop by painful drop.

That burning point, that tiny candle flame, loomed ever larger in his mind's eye, until it seemed to become the focus of his world. As the drip... drip... drip of hot wax proceeded towards the unprotected tip of his shaft, it grew larger in his mind until Jax could think of nothing else but the agony at his groin.

His perception narrowed with each hot spatter, until the whole of his world seemed to be nothing but that one tiny, burning flame at the tip of the candle. Until he seemed to be that tiny flame. A part of his mind, disconnected from the rest, began to remember, to dwell upon, that instant that his captor's talent had ignited that fire. If only he could grasp it as the sorceror had, work his will on it, cause the flame to cease as it had begun, and end the torture of his body.

Almost, almost, he felt his will began to coalesce about that flame. Almost he felt that the straining of his muscles, ended by weariness and fear, might instead manifest about that candle's flame and squeeze until it was extinguished.

And then the door opened, breaking his painful reverie, returning him to the world, where his body ached and burned.

As his captor reappeared, his concentration broke. Another drop of sizzling beeswax fell upon his unprotected penis, and before he could even consciously consider stifling his cry, a whining hiss of pain burst forth from his throat.

The dark figure of the lion catfolk seemed to flow into place before him, at the door one moment, by his side the next.

"So, little thief, I trust that you have thought about what you will say to me? Oh, look, your candle has almost burned away."

At the deep, sensual, cruel words from the lion's mouth, a drop of wax, big as the world, fell onto the very tip of Jax's tortured penis. As the burning, molten beeswax fell onto his unprotected tip, Jax's lungs released their hold on a tortured, sobbing cry, only to be muffled by the tight bonds about his muzzle. He sobbed, prisoned by the bounds of his burning flesh, inconsiderate of the presence of his tormentor.

The only relatively conscious thought Jax felt was shame at his inability to withstand the assault on his senses.

But no further drop of fire came.

Instead, a voice by his ear, whispering, "Shhh... shhh... little coyote. A moment's rest for you."

There were rough hands at Jax's face, unfastening the bindings on his muzzle. As the blood flowed hungrily to the freed flesh of his face, his long pointed snout, he gasped in renewed pain. Lances, like a painful itch, but also like the glory of a striving breath long withheld, poured into his muzzle as the lion's hands deftly released the silk about his bound jaws.

A moment later, the bonds of his wrists and ankles loosened, just a bit. In the same moment, there was the relief of tortured, stretched limbs, but it was followed by a renewed molten fire as blood rushed to relieve stretched muscle and tendon and seemingly even bone.

Jax gasped, trying to choke back the pain, coming back to himself just enough to want to hide his own reactions from his captor.

And then there was dim movement at his groin, a feeling like moving ice, as deft, leonine fingers released the silk around the shaft of his cock, then a lightning-shock from his stretched balls.

Jax clenched his jaws in silent agony as his genitals were freed.

And then, as blood returned, in full force, to his tortured organs, a howl burst from his throat, choked back only at the tidal force of his shame.

Jax hung from the cross to which he was still bound, if less tightly, gasping for air, in relief, rage, and shame.

And then, a heat fell across his body, his torso. He whined softly in pain as something brushed against his abused cock. There were strong fingers at his throat, pressing softly into his mane, holding his head up, pressing his face against another face.

The smell of feline - musky, powerful - filled his nostrils, as the lion sniffed the ruff of fur behind Jax's jaws, the powerful teeth of the lion so close to his neck.

"So, little fly, are you ready yet to speak truth to me?"

Jax gagged and choked. A hand stroked the back of his head, smoothing the fur of his mane. He looked down at his groin, and saw the pointed spear of his cock, too engorged to slide back into his newly-freed sheath. Where the skin was visible, it was a deep, scalded red, but most of the length was obscured by a pebbly layer of cracked, hardened wax.

As he watched, deft, leonine fingers reached to the injured organ. Jax felt himself whimper as the fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, squeezing gently. The shell of soft wax broke and came away, and for a moment, it felt as if his very skin was peeled up, leaving only a burning lance of pain where his cock had been.

And then cool air, painful and stinging in its own right, passed over the tender flesh of Jax's tormented penis, showing him that he was whole, if scalded. But then a big hand closed over his abused cock, hiding half it's length in its grip, both soothing and painful as it firmly squeezed.

A deep voice rumbled next to Jax's ear.

"Little thief, I hope that you have considered what you will tell me in this last hour."

Jax focused on calming his breathing, composing himself. Finally, he answered.

"I... I told you. It was. A male. A human male. Young. Fair hair. Shaved face. Said his name... was... Korgan. All I know. I swear. He said he worked for a merchant who trades in magical artifacts."

"Ahh... poor little thief," the lion whispered into his ear. "Poor little coyote. Poor little fly. Still you wrong me so?"

Jax felt the grip around his cock tighten, the claws at his throat grip ever so slightly tighter.

And then they were gone. His captor was gone from his sight. As he tossed his befuddled head about, trying to see where the lion had gone, Jax heard a sound of ratcheting metal behind him, and suddenly, the bonds at his wrists and ankles were loose, and his body was tumbling towards the floor.

He managed to turn his head to the side, so that his muzzle didn't strike the hard stones of the floor, but that was the limit of the control he had over his body. The young coyote thief crumpled to the floor, his limbs burning and unwilling to respond, landing in a heap before the cross to which he'd been tied.

He lay there for a moment, gasping, his limbs trying to curl against his body. But then strong hands were grasping his ankles. The room seemed to spin, and Jax found himself hauled roughly up, by the feet, upside down.

"No," he pleaded, ashamed at doing so. "Please, no, leave me alone."

Jax felt first one leg, then the other, being fastened to the top of the wooden cross, where his arms had been held before. The slack was taken up, and he felt himself dragged, upside down, to hang against the frame.

He tried to struggle, willed himself to struggle, but his tortured limbs could not yet respond. His leonine captor grabbed first one arm, then the other, and fastened them to the feet of the cross. The metal ratcheting sound came again, and Jax found himself stretched once more, tighter and tighter, to the limits of his body's ability to bear, against the frame of the cross.

Upside-down, the blood began rushing to Jax's head. He felt like it would explode.

"No. Stop it. Corpse-fucking bastard, stop it," he croaked.

"I'll stop when I have the truth," said a voice from somewhere, "or when I am satisfied."

Jax felt his genitals roughly grabbed once more. His balls were squeezed, if anything more roughly than before. He felt the stout silk cord wrapping around each individual testicle. When he forced himself to glance upward, he saw the cords were drawn to either side instead of down, and as he watched, the lion pulled them tighter, and tighter, stretching the egg-shaped organs inexorably apart in two directions.

"Gods no! You fucker! You whoreson! Stop! Stop it!"

Jax screamed, until he was hoarse, but his tormentor continued to pull his balls apart until the skin seemed ready to rip, until it seemed on fire, the large organs within squeezed within their pouch by the tension.

And then, that deft touch was at his penis again. Jax felt it dimly through the haze of blood rushing to his head, as his cock was roughly grabbed and tied straight out from his body once more. There was the cold of the metal stand against the already burning and sensitive flesh, the constriction of the silk cord going around and around.

"I'll leave you, to think some more, little fly, for just another hour," a voice said.

And then the condensation of power through the air, culminating in a little flame, the lighting of a candle, positioned now above the underside of his unprotected shaft.

Jax screamed, in pain, desperation, and anger. He screamed the sort of scream that can only come from complete helplessness, as a molten drop of burning wax fell upon the delicate flesh of the underside of his engorged penile knot.

If anything, it was far worse than before. The pain was twice as harsh, the sensitivity of the underside of his cock an order of magnitude higher, especially after his previous torture.

Jax forced himself to look up. Above him, the lion stood, between his legs, affixing a heavy clamp to one of his bound testicles. Jax screamed, a full-throated howl of rage and violation.

The lion's deft hands turned a screw, tightening the clamp so that it tightened on the orb within it's embrace, squeezing inexorably tighter. Jax screamed again, no longer ashamed, giving in to his pain and fear. And then there was another clamp, crushing against his other ball, tighter and tighter as the burning wax, all the while, fell against the doubly-sensitive underside of his outstretched penis.

He screamed, and screamed again, his voice breaking and growing hoarse with the force of it. By the time he stopped, he was alone again, with his pain - his genitals the axis of a burning, broken wheel of fire that was his body. The bound coyote was only barely aware of the random spatters of wax that dropped from his tortured cock to cool against his belly and chest.

The blood rushing to his head made him nearly swoon. Slowly, he tried to gather himself, to hold on to consciousness, afraid that if he fell into the blackness he might never wake again.

After an interminable time, Jax found himself once more nearly outside his own body.

It's not so bad, he told himself. It only feels bad. It's only wax, and it can only hurt a little. I'm not maimed. And this pain and pressure in my head, it's only that I'm upside-down. Nothing has been done to me that will permanently injure me.

He tried to tell himself these things, but as each burning drop fell, his concentration broke, collapsed into a burning point of pain.

But with each drop, his mind focused, once again, on the flame that was the source of his agony. Until finally, without knowing that he was trying to do it, he felt his mind wrapping around that tiny candle-flame, now the only source of light in the room.

And some part of him, not a limb, not a hand or an eye, squeezed itself around the wick of the candle, and the light shrank on itself and went out. It was the only source of light in the room, and when it vanished, there was only blackness.

As the next drop failed to fall in the sudden darkness which stretched about him, Jax came back to himself. He was still dizzy from the pain of his inverted position. His balls ached. His cock still burned and felt raw.

But the candle was out.

He slumped in his bonds, his blood flowing like molten lead until it felt like it would fill his skull to bursting. But the candle was out. The burning drip, drip, drip had ceased.

And Jax fell away into darkness, feeling more drained, more weary, than even his limbs and pressured brain should account for. He dropped into unconsciousness, and knew no more.

--

"Little thief, wake up."

A familiar, now-hated voice sounded in Jax's pointed ears. He found himself struggling up, as if from a deep-dark pool, toward a light that promised only pain and fear.

A face swam before him, and in a moment, resolved itself into the features of his leonine captor. Jax lay on his back. Something hard pressed against his spine, and his limbs were still stretched to their utmost, although he was, blissfully, right-side up again.

"I shall ask you, once more, little fly, to tell me who hired you to work against the master of this tower. Tell me, and tell me true, and the pain will stop. Tell me not, and your flesh will be torn instead of bruised - cut and wracked, instead of merely scalded in play."

"Go. Go... to... hell," said a voice from somewhere. Jax realized, almost with dismay, that it was his own."

"Tell me, little thief," said the lion's voice, from nearby, "Describe to me the face of the one who paid you to steal."

"Told. You. Already." Jax panted, "Young. Human. Male. Fair-haired. Korgan."

There was a sigh. As Jax came to true awareness, he began to think, What's the matter with me? Why don't I just tell him?

Images of worse tortures, true tortures, swam vaguely against his inner eye. Impressions of his body not just being hurt, but broken - his limbs being stretched from their sockets, his manhood burnt or stretched and torn away from his body, his face cut and burnt, his hands, his skillful hands being mangled... all this floated up from the depths of his fear.

And Jax found himself saying, "Go. To. Hell."

There was a chuckle, a throaty feline laugh, that rumbled over his face.

"But, little fly, I know you are lying. And I shall show you now, how I know, if you but open your eyes."

The coyote hadn't even realized that his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Against his fears, he forced the lids to pry themselves open, expecting some other, new horror.

He saw the form of his captor, strong and tall, swimming into focus before him.

And next to the lion, the stooped, bent form of the man who'd hired him to rob the Sorceror Sevenfire, smiling an uncomfortable smile. The man was not bound or harmed that Jax could see. He appeared to be standing alongside his tormentor of his own free will.

"Jax Coyote, of the clanless, meet my devoted servant," said the lion, "There was never a client, never a rival wizard. This man who hired you works for me."

"But... but... a trick..." husked Jax, through his hoarse vocal cords.

"Not at all, though I could deceive your eyes if I wished. It is true that I serve the sorceror Sevenfire, but that is because I serve no master but myself. I am the sorceror Sevenfire, little pup. And you have done better than I expected."

Jax just stared at the two figures in confusion, pain still fogging his mind.

"You... you... fucking bastard," he croaked.

The lion turned to the human beside him.

"You may go now. I will speak with my guest alone."

Jax felt the bonds at his wrists and ankles loosen. His numbed body fell forward, but strong arms caught him. A gasp of pain and weariness escaped his throat, against his will.

"Your ordeal is over, little coyote. Never fear. The pain you have felt will pass, and your flesh is weary, but will recover."

"You... why?" Jax croaked, anger warring with weariness within him.

He wanted to strike out at his tormentor, but his limbs would not answer the call of his brain. He felt his naked body lifted up in strong arms, the smell of male feline permeating the air, surrounding him.

"After you have rested and recovered, we will speak. I will explain to you, but first, you will rest."

Jax glared, anger boiling up within him, even through the confusion. A part of him worried that this was a trick, a mind-game being played on him by his captor.

But the lion blew gently into his face, and with the breath came sleep, gentle sorceries passing through the injured coyote's skin, and he passed from knowing.

The sorceror Sevenfire carried his burden up stone steps. He laid the small form upon a soft bed of feather-down. He admired, against his better judgment, the shape of the sleeping coyote, his lithe muscles, his delicate but strong face, his heavy, well-formed genitals, so recently subjected to such abuse.

He would rather have had one of his own people, for what he desired.

But the fates had brought him this one for his purpose. And the fates were difficult to argue with, knowing more than even a great sorceror.

They'd brought him one who would be his apprentice.

The lion mage breathed a spell into his clawed hand, a spark of blue fire that flared brightly for a moment, and then dissolved into a faintly glowing mist.

"Forget, little coyote. Remember only what I wish you to. Forget your ordeal," Sevenfire whispered.

Holding his hand over Jax's unconscious form, he poured the motes of the spell over the small male's head. As the enchantment sank through the young coyote's flesh, Sevenfire watched the thief turn in his sleep, moaning slightly, before finally relaxing once more into peaceful slumber.

Sevenfire drew a coverlet over the sleeping form of Jax the thief, and silently, on cat feet, locked the door behind him as he left the tower room.