Of Warlords and Pleasures: Ferahgo the Assassin
NOTICE! All chars used in this story are copyright Brian Jacques, and are used without permisson.
"Come out, stripedog!" shouted Ferahgo the Assassain at the forbidding mountain of Salamandastron. Urthstripe peered out of a high window. "Never! I will never surrender my mountain to you as long as there is breath in my lungs, you blue-eyed scum!" Ferahgo stamped a footpaw. "Fire!" A volley of hard shore pebbles and spears flew upwards at the window, but the Badger Lord had disappeared. Ferahgo's eyes narrowed. "Damn that badger's hide," the weasel muttered to himself as he strolled out across the dunes. "Hoy, Greyback, has my son and Goffa returned?" The rat shook his head. "No, sire." Ferahgo shaded his eyes with a paw and pointed at two figures shambling across the sand toward the horde. "Then who are those, addlebrain?" Without waiting for an answer, the weasel grabbed a spear from a nearby stoat and used it to vault over the sands toward his son. "Klitch! What the devil took you so long?" Ferahgo's son, the spitting image of himself, smiled at his father indulgently. "Don't get yourself in such a grand old tizz-wozz, old greywhiskers!" Klitch plopped himself down beside the boulders. "Give me some of that roast woodpigeon, Goffa." The stoat reached for the dead bird, but Ferahgo's spearpoint stayed his paw. "Me and my son need to have a talk, Goffa. Now, why don't you just toddle off and leave us be?" The young stoat threw a glare at Ferahgo's turned back, and then strode off across the sand dunes indignantly. Klitch grabbed the woodpigeon and tore into it voraciously, snatching a flask of dark red wine from his father's paw and slopping it down. "Been hours since I last ate." The young blue-eyed weasel swallowed the last of the meat that was in his mouth, and threw the half-eaten bird over his shoulder. 'I've been inside that Salamandastron place, Father." Ferahgo seized his son's shoulder. "Tell me, Klitch, did you find anything out about the bader's treasure?" His son winced in pain; blood stained his yellow tunic from where his father's claws dug into his shoulder. "Steady on, old one; let me go!" Ferahgo prised his claws free from Klitch's flesh. "Now, tell me!" The young weasel rubbed his shoulder. "I didn't." Ferahgo slapped his son smartly with the flat of his spearblade. "You blundering idiot! You found out nothing? Imbecile!" The Warlord rose, throwing the spear down upon the sand. "If you want something done, you do it yourself!" He aimed a kick at his son, but Klitch dodged it. "Oh, gerroff me, old rottenwhiskers!" The young weasel sprang to his feet. "I didn't find anything out because I was too busy leading that stripedog's adopted daughter and her oversized rabbit of a companion here." Ferahgo stared hard at him. "You got that stripedog's daughter out of the fire-mountain?" Klitch nodded. "Oh, yes! But since you obviously don't want me around, I'll be the one to enjoy her!" The Warlord's son leapt away, but his father fetched him a rough blow to the back of the head that sent Klitch reeling. Before the young weasel could get to his feet, Ferahgo was standing over him, blue eyes as cold as ice, the spearpoint leveled at his son's throat. "You'll be the one to enjoy her, aye? Never! If anybeast is to enjoy her, it'll be me! She'll come in handy to barter with. Now go, before I have you flogged, your wounds washed with seawater, and then chained in the slave line!" Like a shot, Klitch was up and running, footpaws thrumming the sand madly. Ferahgo laughed cruelly, and strode off toward the beach, where the horde was building a bonfire to light up the night. Mara, Urthstripe's adopted daughter, lay stripped and bound across the sand. Her large brown eyes were wet with tears, reflecting fear and apprehension back at Ferahgo in the firelight. "Please, don't hurt me or my friend Pikkle." The weasel grinned, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Aye, little one. I won't hurt you.......much." He motioned at two guards nearby. "Bring the hare here."
The two rats jumped to do their leader's bidding, dragging the unfortunate Pikkle away. Mara laughed through her tears as she listened to her harefriend's shouts. "Owow! Rotten blighters! Take that, and that! Flippinblinkinbloomin vermin cads!" Ferahgo sighed. "Now, Mara of Salamandastron, tell me what I want to know, and you'll go unharmed. If you don't...........well, let's say I'll take a lot more than your life." Mara bared her teeth at the weasel. "I'll never betray my father, Ferahgo!" The blue-eyed Warlord smiled inwardly. "Well now, wouldn't you say that yelling at your "father" and running off is betrayal?" This statement brought a fresh deluge of tears to Mara's eyes. "Oh, father!" she cried. Ferahgo slid closer to her, cutting her bonds and bringing her close. Mara stiffened. "Let me go, scum!" The weasel's knifepoint pricked her neck. "No. Now tell me, have you heard of a badger's treasure?" Mara struggled against Ferahgo and the knife. "No! No! Please, just leave me alone! I don't know anything about a badger's treasure! Please!" The Warlord pressed the knifepoint harder against the badgermaid's throat, his voice as hard as the steel he held. "If I thought you were lying to me, Mara, it would go very hard on your rabbit friend, Pikkle." Mara shrieked, and struggled wildly against the weasel's grasp. "No! No! Please! Don't hurt Pikkle! He's the only friend I have! Please!" Ferahgo signaled the two guards, Crabtail and Gripclaw. "Bring the hare here." The two sped off, returning a few moments later with the young hare, whom they had obviously beaten into silence. Pikkle grinned rougishly at Mara, his left eye swollen and dark. Blood encrusted a wound on his brow, and he staggered between the two vermin with a limp. "Don't worry about me, Mara old pal, wotwot! Just keep that slime-headed, bally blue-peepered weasel type away from any information. Wot!" Crabclaw smacked the flat of his rapierblade across Pikkle's face. "Shut yer sniveling mouth, rabbit!" The hare lashed out with his large, long footpaws, lying the stoat flat. "Rabbit, is it? Well, anybeast could tell that you're an overstuffed toad, baggybottom!" Ferahgo could not help but admire the hare's bravery in the face of such opposition, but strode over, grabbed the rapier from the groaning stoat's grasp, and levled it at Pikkle's throat. "You'll behave before me, badgerpet!" Pikkle opened his mouth to say something, but Mara shook her head. Griptail stood behind the badgermaid, brandishing his cutlass and eyeing her slender young body hungrily. Good, fresh young maids, that was what the Warlord liked, untouched by claw or fang alike. The ferret moaned quietly. How long had it been since he or any of Ferahgo's horde had felt the smooth flesh of a maiden again? Griptail ran his gaze down and across Mara's bare shoulders lustfully, then lower, and lower........aaaaahhhh! The ferret's eyes glazed over and he fell forward, facedown on the sand beside the young female badger. The blue-eyed weasel stood behind him, a grim smile on his lips, Crabclaw's rapier in his paw, dripping blood across the filthy rags that Griptail wore. "You can't have the maid, Griptail." Kicking sand over the ferret's body contemptuously, Ferahgo strode back over to Pikkle. "You, rabbit, how long have you been serving the badger?" The young hare scoffed. "Begging your pardon, old vermin chappie, but what is it to you?" Ferahgo buffeted the hare to the ground, roaring curses and slapping at Pikkle's unprotected body with the rapierblade. When it was all over, Feragho stepped over the semi-conscious hare and seized Mara. "Tell me where the badger's treasure is, young fool!" The badgermaid pushed at his chest with her paws. "I know nothing of a treasure, wavescum!" Ferahgo slapped her. "You're going to pay for this, maid." Cupping his paws to his mouth, the weasel shouted. "Rally to me, my horde!" The dunes came alive with hundreds of hordebeasts dashing to the fore. They gathered around the bound hare, the Warlord, Griptail's carcass, and Crabclaw. Ferahgo grinned, pointing to Mara and Pikkle. "These two refuse to help us. What shall we do with them?" By the cold glint in their leader's eyes, the vermin knew that they were not to cut up the prisoners, but......... Evil glances were exchanged, belts and weapons dropped, and the crowd of stoats, ferrets, rats, foxes, and weasels advanced, but Ferahgo waved them back. "Wait, wait, they'd die under that onslaught. Raketooth, come out and show us what we do with the hare." The vermin in question, a tall, lean, wicked-looking fox, strode out of the throng. Grabbing Pikkle's head roughly between two scarred paws, Raketooth slit the hare's footpaw bonds and turned him around so that a side view was presented. Tearing Pikkle's tunic away from his lanky body, Raketooth slipped out of his faded corsair rags, gripped the hare's thighs, and thrust into his tight opening with a wild yell. Pikkle shouted in pain, but was forced to the ground by Crabclaw. The rat lifted the hare, dug his claws into Pikkle's cheeks, and inserted his dripping, swollen red member into the Salamandastron hare's mouth. "I'll cut yer ears off'n if I feels a tooth, rabbit. Suck it!" Pikkle, unused and highly embarassed, rolled his tongue around the hot mass of rathood, groaning as Raketooth pierced through more of his virginal tissue. The horde laughed and jeered, reaching dirty claws down their trousers to squeeze and stroke massive erections that they did not bother to hide. Ferahgo stood to the side, grimly happy with the expression of shock upon Mara's face as she watched. With one last feral shout, Raketooth ejaculated his hot seed deep into Pikkle's body, and pulled out, coating the sticky substance across the hare's hindquarters. Crabclaw came a moment later, ripping the hare's face cruelly with his long claws. Pikkle was forced to swallow the rancid seed and collapsed to the sand as another vermin mounted him, roaring and thrusting into his already painfully opened bloody rear. Some of the other horde members thought it great fun to shove their erect members into the hare's mouth and force him to swallow their bitter urine, spraying the yellow liquid all over Pikkle's body. Mara covered her ears and looked away, unable to stand the sight of her friend's rape or hear his painfilled shouts and moans any longer. After hours, Pikkle toppled to the bloody, wet sand, unconscious, his short, thick fur coated with urine, sticky seed, and blood. The horde laughed, pretending to thrust against each other as they slopped and swigged seaweed grog sloppily. Raketooth gulped his mug of grog down, wiped the back of a paw across his mouth, and shouted. "Break out the maiden, Warlord!" Ferahgo smiled evilly. "All in good time, my friend." Walking across to Mara, he wrenched her into the air, and yelled. "Gather around, you bilgesloppers, and watch me!" The horde flopped down, all their eyes upon the blue-eyed weasel as he forced Mara to lie down on the filthy sand beside Pikkle. Spreading her thighs, Ferahgo grinned, and leaned close to the badgermaid, speaking in a voice his horde could not hear. "I told you you'd pay, Mara." The Warlord winked; then thrust harshly into Mara's taut virginity. The badgermaid shrieked horribly, pinned to the sand by Ferahgo's paws and weight. The wavescum gathered around them sneered and laughed bitterly at Mara's writhing, twisting, sweaty body. Blood trickled down the inside of her thighs, but still, the weasel thrust, probing with his huge uprightness the raw, untouched caverns and depressions of her freshness. The badgermaid's cries rent the air, growing to a volcanic pitch as Ferahgo came, spreading scalding hot seed deep within her battered body. The Warlord thrust once more into her gently moaning form, rose, wiped the sweat from his forehead and the blood from his hard member, and turned toward his waiting vermin. "She's all yours." Ferahgo strode off across the dunes, feeling the cool night seabreeeze whistle across his face as he listened to Mara's screams intermingled with the raucous laughter and crude, cursing shouts of the vermin as they took the young maid without mercy.
Feraho walked slowly, enjoying the fresh night air, when a thought occured to him about Klitch, his stubborn son. He had not seen the young weasel since Ferahgo had threatened him, but the Warlord was sure Klitch was around. He was right; about a mile away, Klitch lay on his stomach, his chin on his paws, tossing pebbles idly into the sea. Ferahgo strode up to stand beside his son, and scoffed. "That'll get you nowhere fast, Klitch." The young blue-eyed weasel glared up at his father. "How was the maid, old one?" Ferahgo plopped himself down. "Tight and fresh. I bet you've never had a virgin before, eh, Klitch?" The young weasel sneered. "Woudn't you like to know, greywhiskers. It's a wonder your stalk didn't just flop around limply." Stung by the insult to his malehood, Ferahgo yanked Klitch to his footpaws by the ear, and pointed toward Salamandastron. "Aye, and I'm sure you'll pleasure that badger in there, won't you, Klitch? Willingly, even." Klitch slapped his father's paw away, and for a few moments, two sets of identical blue eyes glared at each other. The young weasel was the first to look away. Ferahgo continued haggering and mocking him. "I bet you and Goffa have shared a few times too, eh? What've you learned? Tell me." Klitch hurled a pebble into the water, hoping for it to skip, but it sank with a plunk. The young weasel snarled angrily at his father. "Nothing you would know, oldster." Ferahgo spread his paws wide. "So, you admit it." Klitch nodded slowly. "Yes. It's easy when the only females around here are used regularly and aren't fresh." The Warlord stroked his chin. "Hmmmm. Would you like to learn from me, Klitch?" The young weasel stared up at him. "What? I thought you liked tight and fresh maids." Ferahgo leaned close and chuckled, "Yes, but our badger won't be that after the horde's done with her and her harefriend. No, they'll be as loose as empty shells." Klitch stood up and faced his father. "What do you know, Ferahgo?" The blue-eyed Warlord pulled Klitch behind a group of long rock points. "Wouldn't you like to know." Klitch nodded again. "Yes, I would." Ferahgo's eyes gleamed, and he could not help but gaze at his son's firm young body, now muscled and hard with the coming of malehood. "Then take off your tunic." The young weasel let the yellow tunic slide to the ground, and faced his father. "What now?" Ferahgo pulled off his own clothing, and moved closer to his son, his large shaft erect and hard. Klitch recoiled, but Ferahgo stopped him. "You see this? Well, touch it." The younger weasel stared hard at Ferahgo, but the Warlord was not joking. Slowly, Klitch reached out a wary paw and rubbed the length of Ferahgo's thick, tancolored member. The blue-eyed Warlord stood still, watching as Klitch's own large rod swelled in response to the jolt of heat that shot through him. Klitch stepped back, unsure of what to do next.
Ferahgo grinned at Klitch. "The reason I wanted you to do that was because we need to know each other before we go....further." The young weasel grinned back, his heart thudding against his chest with anticipation. The Warlord pulled Klitch into a hug, and the younger weasel returned it, feeling something rubbing along his thigh. Ferahgo grinned, pressing his huge shaft on Klitch's flank. "I know you've never been ridden before," the weasel purred, stroking his son's hips and sides, "but it'll feel good after the pain." Klitch nodded, his own paws running along Ferahgo's muscled chest. The Warlord pulled him close into a kiss, close-lipped at first, then opening his mouth, he applied gentle pressure with his tongue on Klitch's lips until they parted. Klitch groaned as Ferahgo's paws slid down his body to grasp his furry sheath. The young weasel met Ferahgo's questing tongue with his own, tasting his father's mouth, his breath, his need as they kissed passionately. Ferahgo stroked Klitch's sheath until the young weasel's long black rod slid out of it, wet and ready. The Warlord could feel his son's hard hotness rubbing along his own, and moaned into Klitch's mouth, pulling the young weasel down to the ground with him. Ferahgo kept his arms around Klitch, caressing his thighs, his hips, slipping his tail between his son's rump cheeks teasingly. Klitch could feel Ferahgo's thick hotness prodding his sac, then slipping lower, and stiffened. "I...I don't know if I'm ready for this...fath....Ferahgo." Ferahgo pulled his mouth from the young weasel's, and smiled. "Then we'll go slowly, Klitch. Put your face near me." The young blue-eyed weasel nodded, changing position until the tip of Ferahgo's massive tan member lay near his mouth. He felt his own shaft being drawn into a warm wet place, and groaned, following his father's example and licking at the rod in front of him, taking it into his mouth and rolling it around, tasting the Warlord's salty flavour. Klitch groaned as Ferahgo licked and sucked skillfully at his pole, sending waves of heat through his son. Taking Ferahgo's huge sac in his paws, Klitch hefted them and began to lick down his father's length carefully, massaging the velvety pouch gently.
Ferahgo groaned aloud, forking his leg over Klitch's head and bringing him closer to his hard shaft and stiff sac. "Ohhh, you're pretty good at this." Klitch felt the aroused weasel take his own sac in his paws and began to knead and pull on them carefully, licking with maddening slowness down the side of Klitch's thick, tan, long rod. The young weasel threw his own leg over Ferahgo's head and pulled him closer down his shaft, groaning the Warlords's name aloud
Pikkle sobbed as Crabclaw stood over him, the stoat reaching out his paw for the hare's large soft, shaft. Crabclaw slipped his tail in and out of Pikkle's rump, teasing the hare cruelly. "Oh, you like my tail now, huh, rabbit?" The hare lay back, tears running down his face. "Please, please, old chappie, let me go. I hurt and ache, and I'm not like this. Please!" The stoat laughed wickedly, knelt between Pikkle's thighs, spread them, and thrust inwards. His shaft slid easily through the hare's loose, sore tunnel, lubricated with the seed of a hundred other vermin. Crabclaw pulled out, then sank back in again with a groan. Pikkle yelled and cried out. Suddenly, Crabclaw's claws bit into Pikkle's thighs, deeper and deeper. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the hare's sheath as the stoat came with a shout of pleasure. Thick, clear sticky spooge rushed into Pikkle's body as the hare howled with pain.
Klitch came with a moan, feeling Ferahgo lick at the sweet, thick, sticky flood of seed that rushed from the top of his long member. The Warlord grunted as the younger weasel sucked his hard shaft faster, then hot cream shot from the top of his tan rod into Klitch's mouth. The young blue-eyed weasel swallowed eagerly and licked his father's huge member and pouch clean, groaning as Ferahgo did the same, lifting his son's thigh until the last ounce of gooey seed was washed away. Ferahgo pulled Klitch to him, and then two held each other in a long kiss, feeling their hot members rub together with maddening slowness. The young weasel lay on his back, panting, watching Ferahgo as the powerful Warlord gripped his son's thighs, wrapped his ankles around his waist tightly, and cupped Klitch's rump in his large paws. Noting the look of awed fear in his son's eyes, Ferahgo smiled. "Goffa never showed you this, did he, son? Like I said before, Klitch, this will hurt, but it will feel good as well, very good." Klitch nodded, gripping his father's wrists. "Go on, Ferahgo. I'm ready." With a gentle thrust, Ferahgo entered his son, enjoying the young weasel's virgin tightness. Klitch moaned, gripping Ferahgo's wrists and bracing himself as the Warlord pulled out, then sank the next few inches of his immense shaft back in with another firm thrust. Klitch's own member throbbed, and he could not help but thrust upward slightly, rubbing a wet streak of seed along Ferahgo's cheek. He was rewarded by the warm wetness of his father's mouth drawing his large tan rod in.
He drew in his breath at the sharp pain that darted through his body as Ferahgo's hard member opened him. The adult blue-eyed weasel reached one paw up to grasp Klitch's sac and fondled them teasingly as he thrust harder. Sweat beaded on the young weasel's body as his paws locked in a death-grip on the Warlord's wrists. The pleasurable pain built up, and his swollen shaft throbbed unmercifully inside Ferahgo's expert mouth, where it was rolled and sucked skillfully. Klitch moaned as his father's weaseline shaft filled his tight tunnel to bursting, painfully stretching him out to accomodate what came next. Blood daubed Ferahgo's member slightly, but the lustful weasel paid no attention, feeling the heatwaves of pleasure sweep over him. He thrusted into his blue-eyed son harder and faster, feeling Klitch tighten his legs around his waist and draw him in deeper. Klitch panted and swore as Ferahgo fondled his soft pouch and began to pull him towards the brink of climax.
Ferahgo gripped his son's thighs tighter as the throbbing passion in his massive rod grew, along with his need. He tongued Klitch faster, licking and sucking eagerly as he moaned the young weasel's name. Klitch lay on his back, thrusting upwards into Ferahgo's warm mouth and groaning. "Ohhhhh.......hellsteeth....aw.............here it comes.....here it comes! Oh.....awwww!" Klitch climaxed wildly just as Ferahgo did, lunging into his son's fiery hole and orgasmed then. Both snarled and panted, Ferahgo collapsing onto Klitch's chest. They lay there like that for a moment, the Warlord still deep inside his virgin son/lover, their muscled chests rubbing hard nipples against each other, Klitch's hot member between them. Ferahgo rose first, pulling out of Klitch with a groan, then seized the panting young blue-eyed weasel. They kissed savagely, with an untamed lust and power that only vermin possessed, grabbing for each other's hard bodies eagerly. Klitch pulled back, massaging his long tan rod. Ferahgo winked at him. "You want more, Klitch?" The blue-eyed weasel shook his head. "No, I'm exhausted." Ferahgo wrapped his arms around Klitch. "I love you, son." Klitch kissed Ferahgo's forehead gently. "Love you too, Ferahgo." The two malebeasts fell asleep, smelling the musk of their encounter, still embracing and bathed in the creamy light of the full moon. What pleasure.
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