FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sun was unforgivable. The white, paved stones blinded the eyes and scorched the callused feet of the poor and propertied. Were the comfort of a lee, or the luxury of a fully enclosed domain, not so far out of reach from those who more often stood by them, perhaps the streets would be more admirable.

And yet, this did not stop the bells from ringing, the criers from heralding, the merchants from wheedling, and the fettered from laboring. On went the afternoon in the blistering sun; for money concerned itself not over a bead of sweat nor strain of sinew.

Nor did those with it care. Those, with personalities and morals as flat and as easily exchangeable. Those, with more than enough to spend yet not enough to give. Those, with the greatest of weight in silver who carried the lightest burdens.

Just as the horses who idly trotted cared not for the sewage they left in their wake for those behind to wade and wander through. Just as the wind cared not for the eyes whose grains of sand it carried grated and abraded.

Just as the sun cared not for the parched, cracked lips of those it drove to thirst.

None took second glance at anything less shiny than gold or more worthless than common life. The boy, huddled in the shaded crux of a stone staircase, was as invisible as the myriad stars in the sky at this very moment. He existed, but none noticed for he was concealed by the commotion of commerce.

He hated this place.

So loud, so much activity. Foul smells of shit and vomit wafting through the air. The diseased and dehydrated collapsed along the sewage lines, yet-to-be-collected.

The paramount of life; the paragon of death.

He half-longed for home already. Only four hours now he spent confined within the city walls. But home-sick as he was, he was also sick of home. Sick of the silence. Sick of the solitude. Sick of the mournful wind and empty rooms.

Here or there; the only difference was what discomforts he traded for.

So, here he was. With hope that to occupy himself for a time would distract; mend. His rationale was that maybe, when he returned, it would be more bearable. That is the only reason why, in the eye of this ruckus-storm, the longer he bode his time the more his hatred for it waned to mere discontent.

He waited; poised, not idle. He rested his cheek against the side of the staircase. He felt the starkly cool stone permeate the skin behind his shallow fur. Like a little pocket of night, when the wind chilled and the moon wrought ice where once the sun wrought fire.

He kept his eyes on a particular merchant. His worker was away, gone to fetch something here or there. Money was involved, as it always was. He saw the glitter fall from one palm to the other. This particular merchant displayed bread and apples; one of which he needed, the other a welcome addendum.

His chance came. A crowd wandered down the steps, chuckling and merry. He found a place at their heels out of their sight, for whoever would look down? They walked into the narrow strip, their instruments clanging and banging as they marched steadily along.

Irritation raised hackles and turned scorning noses away. The merchant waved his hands, shouting obscenities and promising all manner of curses upon them.

All the while, his baskets were relieved of their burden; for whoever would look down?

He took only enough to make his loosened toga not appear too bulky; had only seconds for his nimble hands to collect what his keen eyes spotted as fresh and vibrant. Then, still out of view of the merchant, sidling against the bottom of the cart, he shimmied along until he could once again meld with the cacophonous band.

He followed alongside them as a piece of property would. He tightened his sash, securing his haul against his stomach. His tiny neck-hairs pricked up, awaiting the accusatory shout of the merchant. He spotted an alleyway as they turned down the market street, and ducked into it.

"Hey! Stop!"

The boy ran, scurrying like the mouse he was, not daring to look back until he could no longer find the strength to move.

The alley twisted here and there, a labyrinth between dozens of close-knit buildings only wide enough to accommodate a young child like himself, or an emaciated wanderer with no destination.

He came upon a breach, a way back into the open air. He stopped just at the threshold, hiding in the lee of a shadow, out of the way of the arm of sunlight that broke into the darkness like a predator grasping for its prey.

The wind rustled the dust. A stray piece of papyrus fluttered about the quiet street. It landed, and then skidded with a gritty whisper across the amber-colored sandstone bricks.

His blood settled. He shook so terribly he flexed his muscles just to try and quell it. The entire event flashed through his mind like a recurring nightmare. And yet now he felt a sense of thrill he did not have the chance to while he focused so urgently on collecting his meals.

He slumped against the wall, the sunlight tickling his bare toes. His hand idly rested upon the bread hidden in his toga. This was what he had to do now. Either he would get used to it, or he would die.

The wind rustled again. His ear twitched. Instinctively, his eyes burst open and he stared into the street.

It sounded like a whistle. The band, perhaps? But no... the band had traveled west, and he east. The winds came from north, and he could not even hear the murmur of commerce, which was arguably much louder and more cacophonous.

His ear subtly fanned, twitching as he raised a hand to rest on the other side.

There.

It carried with the cadence of a scarab's wing; that subtle vibration. And yet it was high-pitched, fierce and--

Again.

He was certain; a scream. Weak, warbled, and distorted. His spine turned to ice, and then burned. A sense of urgency hit his stomach, purging his appetite. He curled his fingers, impressing treads upon the loose layer of sand.

Before he could debate himself, he took off into the street. He heard the call again; louder. He was headed in the right direction. This district was barren, barely a soul walking the roads save for the weary elderly or the rascally young.

Nearing the calls of despair, he came across a man in light armor, a small Gladius at his hip--a guard!

"Sir!" He hailed. "Do you hear that scream? Someone needs help!"

The guard stopped and turned. He looked over the boy. "Fuck off, I'm busy."

"But the screaming!" He protested.

"Don't hear anything." The guard said, ignoring the boy. After a moment, the kid was still there. "I said--" he looked over, but then his eye caught something. He went to the boy, towering over the little whelp. His brow narrowed as he looked at the front of the boy's toga.

Before the little punk could run, his arm snapped out with a loud crackle as his armor plates rattled together. He gripped the sash about the boy's waist, and yanked.

The toga slacked away from the boy's stomach, and the food he worked with such concentration to steal fell about his ankles. The guard pursed his lips, and then grasped the boy's wrist.

"You're coming with me, little street-rat." He taunted. "I'll get a bit of extra gold outta puttin' your ass in--ah!" He flinched. The sting that erupted on his wrist was so sudden and so intense, he let go. The boy scurried off, faster than he was willing to run. "Little shit," the guard cursed, and looked at his wrist.

His eyes raised when he realized his fur had been charred.

The boy's toga rustled in his wake as he dashed. He'd already wasted too much time; the screaming had died down. Adrenaline coursed through him as he flexed his ears. He caught the subtle grunts and taunts of someone, and a long, but weak, whimper.

He darted into the alleys. These were wider, enough for horse and wagon to enter through. He only hoped his ears were guiding him along the right path and that the sounds were not being thrown off some corner or wall.

"...You don't gotta worry, lil' one..."

The gruff voice came from over the wall right next to him. He paused.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya. Yer such a pretty lil' girl, why don'tchya come with me and we'll put that pretty to use, eh?"

"G--get away!"

The boy felt a surge of energy. He braced against the high wall that separated him from the protesting girl's voice.

"Let me see those legs..."

He looked about; a pile of sandstone and grit to his left was deposited in a shallow corner connecting to the wall. He darted toward it, using the half-made bricks as stepping stones. He leapt from the pile of construction toward the corner, half-turning toward the high wall as he did. His left foot and palm pressed against the adjacent stone, and as soon as he felt enough pressure against his heel, he pushed away.

She yelled again as he sprung toward the high wall, reaching out.

"Let's just take a peek at ya, see what ya have to offer..."

His hand clapped the wall as she sobbed and wailed.

"Shut up you lil' bitch!"

Gritting his teeth, the boy pulled himself up onto the top. Peering over, he finally saw.

A girl, just about his age, was pressed against the wall right below him. A dirty-looking wolf, twice her size, was wrestling at her with his hands. She struggled, trying to get away, while his fingers tugged and yanked at her disheveled toga.

The boy got his leg upon the wall, the width barely enough to balance on. But in a few seconds he got into a squat, and then dropped.

"Fah!"

The girl shrieked in surprise.

The boy felt the world spin as he tumbled forward. He righted himself, quickly whipping about as he recovered from the tumble.

"Who the fuck are you?" The wolf spat. "Get lost, pip."

The girl watched as the boy, who was in a sort of stance, suddenly relaxed. She blinked, clearing the tears from her bleary eyes. The boy, the mouse, with his small feet and hands, large ears, and short stature, did not instill in her much hope.

He walked forward.

"Oh what? Tough little pip are we?" The wolf turned about, and clapped his hands together. "Well come on then, li'l warrior. Let's see whatchya got."

The girl's eyes twitched and wriggled with overwhelming fear. She tried to steady them on the boy. He did nothing to appeal to the taunts of the wolf. He just stood, his shoulders slouched and his blue eyes listless.

"Well fine then. If you're just gonna stand there scared stiff, I'll take the first hit!"

The girl gasped audibly as the aggressor charged forward, and made to kick the boy square in the face. But the boy became an amorphous blur. The wolf grunted, and suddenly he was on his back. The boy jumped on the canine, and clutched his hands about the aggressor's muzzle.

The girl watched as the wolf appeared to struggle. His muffled grunts and curses suddenly went from fierce to frightened. His body wriggled, almost in agony, and he began to helplessly scream into his own clenched jaws as he tried desperately to scratch the boy off of him. A moment passed, and then he abruptly went limp.

The boy relinquished the wolf's muzzle.

The girl saw that his face was distorted; a perturbing smell caught in the wind. She gasped, when the wolf's head fell to the side and embers and ashes fell from his maw. She blinked, staring at the boy.

He dismounted the wolf, wringing his hands. Then, he looked to her.

She tried to shrink.

"It's okay," the boy said softly. He held his hands up as he stepped closer to her. Then, her eyes started going wide. She tried to do or say something--but she just couldn't.

The boy slowly walked to the girl, his posture and gestures insisting that he meant her no harm. She was frightened, to the point she almost looked catatonic. He was also frightened.

That was twice now.

He took one slow step after another, turning yards into feet. Then, as he was just a few arms away, her eyes suddenly went wide. The boy stopped, believing he had approached too quickly--to aggressively. He shushed, and then moved his arms behind his back, to perhaps make him seem even less threatening.

Then his vision sparked, and went black.

* * *

The feeling of being adrift in water. Gently shifting and pitching this way and that. The dizzying, disorienting motions of the flotsam in a swirling current. The smothering gurgle as it flushed into the eardrum, then receded with a gentle burst of clarity.

The boy began to rouse. The back of his head smarted. He rolled onto his side, and then prone. He waited a while, letting the vertigo settle. When the queasiness in his gut calmed, he tried to move his hands. But his wrists were locked together behind him. Unable to use his hands for support, he rolled to his back once again and struggled to sit up.

The room was dark, save for a few, meager shafts of light coming through the cracks of the plank-wood door to his left. The beams on the wall flickered and trembled, impressing the light came from a candle, or oil lamp.

It was barely the size of a closet.

He got to his feet. His legs shook, his balance still orienting. He leaned against the door, half for support and half to look out through the largest split between the planks he could find.

The room beyond was barely lit, but his eyes were so attuned to the dark he could make out quite a bit. The light of the lamp was on a small table against a far wall. A bed without linens was half-illuminated. On the ground, a dark chain, like a sleeping serpent, was half-coiled at the near foot of the bed he could see.

Panic began to swell in his chest. He receded from the door, his balance almost fully recovered. He stepped backwards toward the wall behind him. As he butted against it, a tinkling chime disturbed the silence.

His hand gripped about the chain he rattled. He absently traced upward, stepping forward. He came across a point where four chains were joined in an X. The one he held went diagonally downward. He followed it, squatting, and came upon a thick fetter.

As he traced the circumference of the ring, the memories started to trickle back.

The wolf... must not have been alone. He scolded himself for being so negligent. So focused on that girl...

He closed his eyes.

So focused on her, and yet now he barely recalled her. Just a white haze, a blurry ghost.

How long had he been here? Was she here? Trapped in a closet like him, cuffed and bound?

He traced the circumference of the ring, and then his heart began to race.

Amidst the pounding in his ears, he heard commotion. He sprung forth, pressing against the door. He peered through, his body flat against the wood. As a far door was softly illuminated, he realized in the back of his mind that he was entirely nude.

"What do we do with 'im?" Came a gruff voice. "Kill 'im? Eye-fer'n-eye?"

"So I mused, too, at first," responded a much more sophisticated, clear voice. "But then I began to recognize the opportunity. I think we'll use him as a sort of...experiment. After all, there are a few persons with more... eclectic tastes..."

The boy stepped back as he heard the footfalls come closer. He rattled the chains behind him again.

"Hold it, boss." The gruff voice instructed. "Lemme open it."

The other voice chuckled. "As you wish, I'll hold the light."

The boy felt his adrenaline surge as something was dragged across the ground, and more light filtered through. Then, a snap shocked through the quiet. The door fell ajar, and then a dark hand slipped through the rift. It quickly whipped the door aside.

The boy gritted his teeth.

Dressed in a black toga, a dagger in his hand, was a wiry rat with coal-black eyes.

Beside him and a bit further back, a lion wearing an opulent purple robe held a large oil lantern with a brass tong extending from his hand. "I see he is awake."

"Na'h sudden moves, lit'ch'l bastard." The rat said, pointing his dagger at the mouse. "Up'n'turn 'round."

Glaring, the boy obeyed. He rose to his feet, and turned about. He saw that the chains behind him were like a prisoner's post, except much smaller in scale.

He heard a bit of rustling, and then felt the rope loop about his neck. The knot was pressed firmly into his nape, constricting his throat enough to send shivers of instinctive fear down his spine.

The rope was tugged. "Come, slave."

He had almost no choice but to follow.

Almost no choice, until he found the girl.

He surveyed the room once more as he passed into it. There was nothing else that the lantern the opulent lion held unveiled. It was just a simple room with a bed, a lamp, and more chains and shackles.

And yet it was not just a simple room.

He followed the lion through the door, the leash about his neck slack as the rat walked behind, no doubt with the knife at the ready.

The foyer outside the room was the barest kind of shelter. Crude stone blocks stacked and braced with half-rotten wood. Cracked, chipped, broken and smelling of mildew and weeping here and there into a puddle across the ground.

Three other doors, one on each wall, were all shut. The lion made for the door to the right, opening it and beckoning them on.

The boy entered another kind of foyer. This one, however was round. He stepped into the room through the doorway recessed into the wall. His ears were saturated with the sobs and whimpers; his skin warmed by the gentle, muggy heat; his nose tickled with the sickly-sweetest smell; and his eyes pained by the lights.

"'Gainst the wall, there." The rat behind him commanded, nudging the boy with the butt of the knife.

The boy slowly went to the indicated spot. All the while, he locked eyes with the two girls beside the vacant space. The one that would be to his left wept openly, while the one on the right looked downward.

"Hello my little darlings," the lion spoke as the boy was relieved of his leash and shackles just long enough to be re-bound by chains. "I know you're all so anxiously waiting for your turns." He clapped his hands, surveying the room. "I couldn't help but notice some of you were a little shocked and surprised... maybe even a bit intimidated by the gentleman that you saw pass through here earlier. So, I've brought you this boy," he said, gesturing to the mouse, "so that you might get more... accustomed to these wonderful new experiences." The lion chuckled as the chain was secured about the boy's wrists, causing him to grunt with discomfort. "Now, don't be afraid to stare, and try to be fair and not hide yourselves from him. After all, we're all friends here. And, rest assured, if you don't want to get to know your sisters and brother then we can find a nice, dark place where you can just sit and rot all alone!"

The girls whimpered and squealed.

The boy felt his guts bubble.

"Now then. I'm going to check on your Big Sister." He nodded toward the rat. The rat nodded back, and they left through another door.

The room went quiet.

The boy's eyes fully adjusted to the new lighting. All about the ceiling, in a circumference alcove above their heads, candles illuminated the entire room. The boy's eyes flitted from girl to girl.

There were an octet, more or less. One wore a torn gown. Another, a ribbon tied about her neck and draping down her front. Another, white lace stockings that contrasted with her black fur.

All were naked about their waist. All, like him, appeared to be at least chained with their wrists at the smalls of their backs. One was made to squat, her bindings low to the ground. A puddle of stale urine trailed toward an array of drains near the center of the room, starting from between her legs.

As his eyes surveyed them, some tried to keep their modesty. Others did nothing, some even heeding the words of the lion and parting their thighs as his pupils fell upon them.

The girl to his right giggled. He looked to her. She was looking down at him. He looked down as well. His boyhood was stirring; rising. Out of shock and embarrassment, he started to urinate.

The girl to his right gasped as the stream of glittering water arced toward the center of the room.

Still, his boyhood stiffened. Just as it did on occasion. He did not mind it then, but now it made him feel... vulnerable. More eyes began to watch him. He squinted in shame, feeling his cheeks burn. He stared ahead, trying to look at the far candle to keep his mind off what was going on.

The white ears that he saw in the bottom of his vision quickly caught his attention. He trailed down... and felt a thunderclap in his heart.

The girl.

As he gazed upon her white-furred face, the little pink nose at the tip of her muzzle, and orange-and-brown spots on her cheeks, he knew it was her immediately.

And as he noted her features, he felt a sense of despair.

She was bound differently from the others. Much more drastically than the one made to squat or the other made to face the wall.

Her teeth were made to clench about a bit that was attached to the board behind her head, like the reins of a horse. It was just enough that she could turn her head a little left or right, up and down; but, even if she let her jaw slack it would not fall out. Her arms appeared bound at the wrists just like the others. Her feet, however, were set upon protruding blocks that raised her up half a foot from the cold, wet ground. About her waist, a metal ring held her securely, while between her legs a pair of stirrups forced her to stand awkwardly with her thighs apart.

The rose-pink of her vulva was lit by a candle set between her knees.

The boy's eyes couldn't help but to ogle her. His eyes fell upon her mons, so helplessly presented for him to see. Just below the ring, and just a few inches above the delicate folds of her intimacy, an orange-and-black inkblot pattern disturbed the calico kitten's otherwise white underbelly. The pattern vaguely resembled a heart, tilted several degrees counter-clockwise.

And then, realizing how he so brazenly examined the girl, the boy quickly looked up to her eyes. A lead weight of guilt fell on him as he saw the beads of water falling down the corners of her eyes.

Never before had he been in such proximity to any girl--let alone under these circumstances. A miasma of instincts and uncertainty surrounded him, making him a bit dizzy and anxious. He felt pangs of regret and grief; for coming to the city in the first place, for allowing himself to get caught up in this situation, and for the girls whom which accompanied this plight.

His erection openly displayed at his belly, standing upright and radiating heat. He was acutely aware of the eyes on him, some of the girls' moods changing from scared or anxious to curious or captivated.

Her chains tingled as the girl to his right pulled away from the wall, unabashedly trying to get the best look she could.

Then, the relative silence of the room faded as the door the lion and rat had gone through creaked ajar.

"Oooh... Oh, Daddy!"

The moans echoed into the room.

"Please--A-ah!--Be gentle, daddy. Your cock's so big and I'm still just a little gir--Ooo! Ooo-ooo-ooo--Ooo!"

The girls in the room began to breathe heavily, the one left of the boy whimpering. The sweet smell pervaded the room, dominating the musky tinge of mold. His erection began to twitch and flex against his will.

"Fill my tight little womb, daddy! Fill it with your hot, sticky, cre--eeeeeeam! Cumming, daddy! I'm cum--ming!"

A wave of heat washed over the boy, his heart pounding at the strangely alluring shrieks that began to echo into the room. Unlike any other shriek, this one did not make the boy feel like there was danger--in fact, the exact opposite. Something about its inflection, something about the way it ended in a kind of groan, made his head swim and his legs feel weak.

A moment passed and the vocals quieted. Then, the voice was barely heard as if its caster was unable to find the strength to speak. "Daddy... I'm so warm and full. Kiss me?"

Several moments of relative silence followed as the room shifted and stirred with agitation. The boy couldn't help but feel that they were all under some kind of amalgam of emotion. Even the girl to his left was wriggling strangely, her thighs rubbing together and her eyes trailing down his stomach toward his groin.

He looked to the calico girl almost directly in front of him. From her grossly displayed vulva, a thin trickle of water fell. It broke upon the brim of the candle below, threatening the flame.

Her cheeks and chest were flushed red, her nipples pert upon the soft mounds of her developing bosom. Her stomach heaved huskily as she almost fought with herself from looking downward at him.

Then, footfalls.

All eyes turned as a naked man was led by a hand on his shoulder. He was blindfolded, grinning with gratification. His flaccid manhood swung with every uneasy step.

"C'mon, this way," the rat muttered, guiding the blindfolded man toward another of the several doors.

"Take it easy, honey," the soft, gentle voice of the opulent lion cooed from the other door.

"I'm all right, daddy," the voice that had exclaimed so enthusiastically earlier responded. "Just trying to keep it in, that's all. Am I going to meet the virgin blood?"

"Oh yes, darling."

A giggle.

The two emerged from the doorway.

"Everyone," the lion said as he entered the room first. "I would like you to meet your Big Sister."

The white rabbit awkwardly stepped through the door-frame. She clasped her hands between her naked legs. Her upper-body was varying shades of red, showing through her immaculate, downy white fur. Her hazel eyes dreamily surveyed the room, but it was like she was still in the past, holding onto a wonderful memory. This was made evident by the motion of her hands squeezing at her cupped groin, and a suppressed gasp escaping her lips.

"Big Sister... these are our new recruits. I would like you to help... shed some light for them. Be a role-model, a friend--just like your Big Sister was to you; remember?"

"Oh yes, daddy," she panted. "I remember."

"Good. Now," he knelt down. "I have to busy myself at the front. I'm certain another gentleman will come by, and I believe there is even an appointment in a short while. Make sure you... prepare your younger sisters."

The rabbit nodded.

The lion made his way through the same door the rat had gone just moments before.

The rabbit huffed, and then giggled. She looked to her right, spotting the girl that was made to squat. She was a cute little vixen, her creamy tummy and groinfur alluring and captivating, practically commanding the eye of any man to look at her prize.

She made her way over to the vixen, the girl trying to back away as she positioned her covered crotch directly in front of the vixen's muzzle. She released her hands, a bit of the stickiness clinging to her fingertips.

The vixen stared in fascination and fright.

"Lick." The Big Sister commanded.

The vixen's eyes flitted between the rabbit's bulging, swollen vulva and hazel eyes. Suddenly, the rabbit's sticky-coated fingers grasped the back of her jaw, pulling her muzzle forward and pressing her muzzle against the intimate folds.

"I said lick. Lick me clean you little nymph." Against her vulva, the vixen's muzzle vibrated with a whimper. But, not a few seconds later, the warm and wet tongue began to invade. The rabbit sighed. "That's it, little nymph," she encouraged, petting the girl's head. "Lick it and swallow it. Is this your first taste of a man?" She snickered. "Like that was a man. Violating an innocent little girl like me." She said in a pouting voice. "C'mon sweet-heart, I don't have all day. Gorge yourself. Fill your tummy; empty my womb. I don't want that wretch's semen in me any longer."

The boy watched this lewd act with the others. He couldn't tell, but this Big Sister looked to be just a bit older than him--and as he surveyed the others, he noticed a commonality. They were all younger than he was. Aside from Big Sister, and the calico, the other girls were young children. He was barely at his dozenth year, and the vixen made to squat, now made to clean the Big Sister, looked to be the youngest--less than half his age.

The little vixen gasped huskily as the rabbit disengaged her crotch. The vixen went limp, her tongue licking feverishly at the strands of stickiness that had clung and broken onto her.

The rabbit squatted. "Oh, do you want more?" She teased. "Well, maybe if you're lucky you'll get picked next and he'll make you milk him like the baby you are." The rabbit giggled as she dipped her fore-fingers into her own nethers, gathering remnant semen and other intimate fluids, and then massaged them into the vixen's vulva. "Oh my are you starting to heat up."

Big Sister stood upright. "Now then. Hello all you little sluts," she addressed, surveying the room. "I'm your Big Si--"

The boy locked eyes with the rabbit.

She approached him audaciously. Her body pressed against his as she stared into his eyes with a scowl, as if trying to bore into his soul and condemn him for existing. "Daddy brought a boy." She stated. "Interesting." She receded just a little, and looked down. "He's hard." She reached down, gripping his penis. She giggled as he tensed. "You horny little thing. You must feel so lucky, getting to be in a room with all these little nymphs. I bet in a few days, they'll all be struggling to free themselves so they can mount you and ride you 'till you can't stand upright."

He lifted onto his tip-toes as she tugged his maleness upward. He relaxed when she let him go.

"If I wasn't just a little sore from that pathetic bit of fucking, I'd almost want the pleasure of taking you right now." She smiled. "I'm guessing you're a virgin, based on how innocent you look." She stepped back, and lifted her arms and set her feet ajar. "Do you like my body? What do you like most? My breasts?" She asked, hefting her moderate chest in her hands, squeezing them. "Do you want to suckle me? Try to get my milk? Or maybe you're more curious about what's down here?" She reached down to spread her vaginal lips. "Curious? Wanna know what it's like to cram that stiffy of yours inside? Hm?" She released her hand and set her wrists on her bare hips. "Don't you talk? I'm so sexy I make you speechless?" She stepped closer to him, kneeling down. "I want to know what your voice sounds like. Let me hear it."

He watched, almost helplessly, as she gripped the base of his boyhood. She pursed her lips, and then pressed her mouth against his tip.

"When did you pee? It's still wet. Oh well, that's okay." She quickly sucked him in.

He gasped, feeling the warmth of her muzzle as she sucked down to his base and groaned. The vibrations went through his pelvis with terrible pleasure. She pulled back, so that just the tip was in her mouth.

Discomfort, then pain. He vocalized as he felt her teeth gently press down on his tip, trying to recede from her. She relinquished him, clapping.

"You sound sexy," she complimented. "Maybe later I'll get to hear you grunting in my ear while your little dick is wrapped in something else squishy, wet, and warm." She winked.

Then, she scowled, and turned. "The rest of you, listen up."

A wave of suppressed whimpers and sobs emanated from the walls.

"I'm your Big Sister." She stated, stepping toward the girl to the boy's left. "You do what I say." She instructed, half-sweetly, half-menacingly, cupping the chin of the bashful skunkette.

"This room is your new home. You can piss and shit all you want in here; don't bother anyone with that. It'll get cleaned, some time. Especially before a client comes." She stepped over to the girl facing the other way, reaching out to stroke her buttocks to the delight of her futile protests.

"From now on, you're all little nymphs. Little sluts. You know what that means?" She turned.

No one responded.

"It means when men come wanting to stick their dicks in a tight little cunny," she stated, pointing at the boy's hardness, "You do all you can to be the one they want to stick it in."

She went to another girl, catching her muzzle and kissing her on the lips. "You don't get to eat until you swallow a daddy's cum." She declared. Then, she turned and scowled at the vixen. "Don't think that means you get a meal. It's gotta be fresh from the source."

She approached another girl, and began stroking her privates. "Every man is Daddy to you, unless they say otherwise. Learn to say it sexy; make them feel like they're violating the daughter they'll never have."

Finally, she went to the calico on display.

The boy felt his guts churn again, and it even went as far as to make him soften.

"You," Big Sister declared, "are lucky. When I was fresh and virginal, I wish I was in your position. I never got to be as lucky as you. Now I realize it's cuz daddy knew I wanted it, deep down, even when I thought I didn't." She squatted down, fitting her finger into the loop in the candle's base. She lifted it, getting it closer to the calico's groin.

"So lucky," she replied, almost in a tsk, reaching in to spread the lips. "Mmm..." She pressed her nose against the delicate folds and audibly inhaled, letting out a heated grunt. "I can smell your virginity. You're going to make someone's wealthy cock very happy. I wonder how much you cost? But then, maybe I'm jealous..." she reached in, inserting a finger.

The boy watched as the calico's eyes closed and her head twisted to the right.

"Maybe I'll ruin you right here and now. Then, daddy won't have any use for you, and you'll go stale." She released her finger, and set the candle back down. "By the way, slutty little bitches," she said, prancing to the girl to the boy's right and smacking her across the face. "Don't look at him! He's mine!"

She giggled with delight as the girl coughed and sputtered.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted." She went to the center of the room. "If any of you feel like you can not do what I say, and try your hardy-little-hardest to not beg and plead for every daddy that walks through that door the privilege of splitting your tiny little pussy over their meat and pumping you full of cum until your bellies bulge like fat little pigeons," she took in a deep breath to recover from the long bit of poetry she crafted. "Then we'll just have to chain you up in one of the dark closets all by yourself and see if someone ever comes for you again."

The room began to stir and sob; tears began to weep and chains began to shiver.

Big Sister flicked her hand with a dismissive chuckle. "It's not so bad, really; I've been in one before. I screamed and screamed to get let out. I got lucky, cuz a daddy heard me while he was fucking another of my sisters. He came all the way from another room to see me. And when he opened the door and saw me standing their with my arms above my head and my legs spread wide, he smiled and didn't think twice about using me over and over again." She twirled. "I think he liked how I was chained up and couldn't get away or resist. He just filled me again and again and again. Daddy was so proud, he let me come back here; and I've been his favorite little girl ev-ver since."

She stopped, facing the calico. Abruptly, she went back to grasp the candle, and held it dangerously close to the girl's helplessly spread privates. "And don't you forget that, you little cunt!"

The girl began shrieking into her bit as the heat from the candle sent her blood racing. The threat of the flame licking her tenderest of places made her mind reel with terror--and yet she could barely excise it away, the restraints keeping her from both getting away, and fully releasing her emotions.

"Stop!"

All helpless eyes turned to the boy.

Big Sister's ears twitched. She slowly set the candle down, ignoring the relieved whimpers and gasps from the girl on display. She stood, turning around, and beamed.

"You like her, don't you?" She taunted.

The boy glared.

"Do you know her? Are you two lovers?" She clasped her hands by her cheek. "Oh! Or maybe you don't. Maybe you're just a stranger--a hero, who wishes to save this poor little wretch of a damsel in distress." She pranced with little steps toward him. "Maybe it's cuz you're a pure heart. A valiant guard, sworn to protect. Or maybe," she dipped low, skulking forward, "it's cuz you want to take her all for yourself? You want to be the first dick inside that hot little cunny; to feel her when she's at her tightest, before she's so abused not even the most perverted and desperate caste would want anything to do with her."

When she was inches from his face, she lashed out and kissed him, pressing him against the wall.

He struggled, tried to get her away. He half wanted to make his move now, but knew he had to time it right. She was just a pawn. Even if she was not shackled like any of them, she was still bound; bound by her own broken and warped mind.

Big Sister then rested her chin upon his shoulder. He watched as the tendons in the calico's neck and shoulders bulged as her teeth clenched upon the bit.

The door creaked as it opened.

"And this, is our... gallery." The lion said, as he stepped into the room.

The rabbit turned. "Hello, daddy." She greeted, skipping to the lion.

He knelt. "Hello sweet-heart," he said, kissing her nose and groping her bottom, eliciting a squeal. "Why don't you go to the cellar and fetch me a flask of bourbon? I won't know if you took a sip--or two."

She giggled. "At once, daddy." She stepped to his side. "Oh, and hello to you, master," she said, giving a naked curtsy.

"And a hello to you, too," said the equine man, in a very gravelly tone. He watched the rabbit's bottom as she scurried down the hall, and then spun round while whipping a door open before disappearing through it.

"Ahem," the lion cleared his throat. "If you will enter."

"Don't mind if I..." He stepped into the light. "Do..." He whistled, surveying the gallery.

"As you can see, we have a fine selection of young, nubile girls for you to choose from."

The stallion stepped further into the room, catching the crotch of every girl; some looked away while others tried to hide. His pupils fell upon the girl facing the opposite way. "A fine rump on that one..."

"Indeed," the lion agreed. "The price is much cheaper for non-vaginal intercourse, if you are either on a budget or it's a nice treat if that's your thing."

"Not particularly," the equine dismissed. He spotted the boy. "Huh..." he said, his eye squinting.

"A... new addition to the collection," the lion explained. "I am aware that other markets exist. I'm curious to see how fruitful they are. Otherwise, pay no mind."

"I see. Didn't take you for that much of a businessman."

The lion smiled. "Don't put all your eggs in one basket, as they say."

"And... what do we have here?" He queried, his eyes catching the cutest little thing, put on display.

"Ah yes, tha--"

"Hold your pitch, sir," the stallion said pressing his hand up. "I was being rhetorical."

The lion pursed his lips. "I beg your pardon." He acquiesced.

The equine stepped up to the girl. He looked in her eyes; deep green with flecks of yellow, like gold sprinkled on a leaf. He reached out, and then paused. "May I touch?" He asked. "That's not rhetorical," he added with a smirk.

"You may."

He gently pressed his thumb to her cheek and rubbed. He turned her head to the side, watching as her eyes locked to him even as she was manipulated. His hand went down her neck, stroking her clavicle.

She began to breath more rapidly, her nose whiffing. He licked his snout, letting out a heated huff himself. His hand trailed down to her left breast. It was barely budding. He squeezed, eliciting an agitated whimper from the gagged slut. He could feel the hard lump of her budding mammary.

He then knelt on one knee, and rested his fingers against her thigh, near the stirrup. He gazed at her treasure, fully illuminated by the candle-light. She was wet and slippery already. He pressed against her thigh, and a bit of dribble seeped out as her lips were pulled ever-so-slightly apart. He dipped his nose closer, and took a few deep whiffs.

"What do you think?"

The stallion suppressed a whinny. "May I touch her... in other ways?"

The lion smirked. "You may. But no entry; lest you wish to pay whatever price I name."

The equine chuffed. "And if I refuse?"

From the boy's left, the door opened. The rat stood in the threshold. In his hands, loosely gripped, a sword faintly reflected the dim light. He twirled it across his body as he righted it to a ready grip.

"Very well." The equine nodded, and stood.

"Take his toga, please," the lion instructed.

The rat entered the room as the equine disrobed.

The boy's eyes went a bit wide. The equine's manhood was three times his own length and girth.

The girl's eyes went wider. She suddenly realized what was going to happen.

The stallion gripped his dangling hardness. "I've never been so invigorated," he commented. "Yeah... you like these little girls, don't you, fella?"

The lion watched as the equine talked to, and began fondling, his appendage. He kept a solid face, but inside he was practically bawling with laughter. This stallion of a man had a phallus that others would think was a tooth-pick, even not for his kind. He had seen, granted he did not intend to, another equine's, and it was so gargantuan it practically dragged on the floor behind him like a tail.

But this was usually the kind of person he provided for. Those who were impotent, or barely masculine enough to attract a girlish-looking lad. These sad, pitiful souls turned to whatever they could to get their puny, lonely rocks off with anything other than their hands in solitude.

And that's what hit him. It was so genius. The homeless children would not be missed. And the men who did not have a chance with a real female wouldn't dare pass up the chance to fuck some kind of vagina--even if it was young.

The equine's throat rumbled with gratification as he pointed his flared tip toward the bound girl. He let out a gasp as he gently touched it flat against her navel.

She wriggled.

"Oh yes... keep doing that..." The stallion grinned. "Such a good tickle..." He slowly brought the tip down.

The girl began to whimper, freezing still in protest of the man's encouragement. Her heart thundered in her premature bosom; her head swam with heat and delirium.

She closed her eyes. Then his hand gripped her neck gently.

"Look at me."

Her eyes shot open. She stared into his, dark-brown. Then, she felt it. The warm, broad, soft flesh.

The boy heard the girl to his left whimper. He glared at the stallion, his blood boiling. "Shh..." he whispered, looking toward the cowering child. He smiled, and then rested back against the wall. He made sure not to make any noise as he curled his fingers about the slack of the chain just behind his wrists.

The calico winced as the equine prodded, her vision blurring and sparking with each nudge of his phallus. It touched her in ways she never imagined she would be touched; the flat tip pushed up between her legs, nudging her vulva. It sent sick pulses of warmth through her body that she fought desperately to suppress.

"Mmmm... she's so fuckin' wet, she makes me wanna cum right here."

"Please spare us the trouble," the lion said. "You are more than welcome to do whatever you please with her in your own privacy--after your contributions, of course."

The equine prodded her a few more times, before letting her go. "So... what're we talkin'?"

"Well." The lion folded his arms. "This particular lady happens to be a virgin."

"So like... hundred-fifty gold pieces?"

The lion chuckled. "Four-hundred eighty."

"What the--?" The stallion dropped his manhood. "You've gotta be kidding me. I thought you said you were a business man. How do you expect to sell with a price like that?"

"Indeed I am," the lion nodded. "And I serve clients with very... particular inclinations. And, unlike my competitors, my establishment has the resources to resupply my gallery with fresh, virginal specimens; and we only choose the best-of-the-best."

He stepped between the equine and the girl.

"For example, this particular, gorgeous work of art," he lifted the calico's chin, "Is at the perfect point of ripeness. She is lean--absolutely none of that childish blubber on her," he massaged his hand on her belly. "Her bosom is just now starting to bloom, giving her breasts such a delectable and soft kind of tenderness that makes them wonderful to squeeze, and just prime enough to begin suckling, while still remaining flat as a lad." He moved his hand to the stirrups. "And, of course, she is a virgin. The pattern on her groin is so unique and adorable, the innocent shape sure to be a pleasant focus point as you plunge yourself into her depths. Not to mention, she is the tightest she will ever be.

"If you had any sense about you, my friend, you would realize that you are getting an offer other clients of mine would outright murder for. But, if that is too high a price for you," he bowed, "I mean no disrespect. I just need to make a living. And if you are not willing to meet that price, I know absolutely that there are three others who would bid, at a minimum, three times the amount I stated, just for the pleasure of deflowering her, and nothing more."

The equine looked behind him, nervously watching the silent rat.

"If you like, the price you named will give you the vixen--or perhaps the boy."

"Not taking no boy," the stallion scoffed. "Two-forty, and that's--"

"Oh--what's the matter? Not man enough to handle a little boy!?"

The calico's heart nearly stopped. Her blurry eyes focused. She saw the boy across the room, his face a-snarl and his ears a-flare.

A tear fell down her twitching cheek.

"What the fuck did y--"

"Now now, let me handle this," the lion said.

"Ya'sure boss?" The rat questioned, twirling the blade once more. "I kinda been wantin' to prick the li'tch'l prick since I saw him glarin' the whole time."

"Leave him to me." The lion said, pressing his hand in the air. He stepped over to the boy, standing a foot away. "Did I say... that you could speak... runt?"

The boy kept his lips gently closed.

"Oh? I'm addressing you--acknowledging you exist. Or do you only speak when everyone's back is turned--like the cowardly little mouse you are?"

"Call me that to my face." The boy growled. The girl to his left let out a prolonged whimper, and he heard the trickling of water as she urinated in sheer terror.

The lion folded his arms, slipping his hands into the opposite sleeves of his toga.

The boy watched the lion carefully. Then, suddenly, the lion burst forth, and a glint of light caught the mouse's eye. The lion's hand clutched his scalp, lifting it back and baring his neck.

"You little whelp." he said, setting the tip of the dagger against the boy's throat. "I don't need you, understand? It is by my generosity you are alive at this very moment. I don't really see any point in keeping you around; I'm not even certain anyone will take your puny little body for any value. In fact, maybe I should just off you right here, right now."

The boy gasped as the knife gently pricked his throat.

"Or... perhaps..." The lion grinned, his yellow teeth and rancid breath catching the candle-light. He released the boy's scalp, and then retrieved his erect penis.

The boy gripped the chain a bit harder. Now.

"Perhaps I could take away your masculinity. Make you serve my girls to keep them fresh and wet for the next client." He placed the knife against the boy's pelvis, resting the blade at the base of the boy's shaft. "You wouldn't be able to fuck them or know the pleasure of ejaculating yourself, of course, so I think that is a fine punishment for you. Plus, if any client wishes, he can have your rectum for an appetizer--what do you say?"

He grinned touching his nose to the boy's, eager to see the absolute terror in the little bastard's eyes at the thought of his little pecker getting pecked right off.

The boy grinned back.

The lion's expression dropped for a second; and then he hissed and howled. The knife clattered to the ground, and the lion covered his eyes. Wailing and moaning, he clawed at the burning, sizzling skin.

"You li'tch'l shi'et!"

The calico watched as the rat sliced his sword downward across his body.

The boy strafed and flinched away, moving to the rat's flank. The chains in his hands chimed as he slacked a few hands' length between his grips. Even as he did so, he crouched, anticipating the follow-up horizontal cut. As the rat's arm swung over his head, his hands lashed up, snaring the rat in the slack of the chains. He collected the ends in both hands, and yanked with all his might and the force of gravity.

The rat cursed as the sword was wrenched from his grasp, clattering and sliding across the ground. It came to a rest mere inches from the heels of the girl who was made to face the wall.

By fighter's instinct the rat ignored the pain and lashed out with his off-hand, catching the boy by his neck.

The boy released the chains and wrapped his small hands about the rat's wrist. He pulled downward, and ripped his neck free even as the grip threatened to constrict. He turned his momentum backward, stepping behind the rat between the legs. But a spell of dizziness overcame him, causing him to stumble and land on his rear. Feeling the world pitch beneath him, he desperately kicked from his vulnerable position, catching the rat square in the backs of both knees.

The rat collapsed with a growl, his body hitting the ground with a teeth-aching crack.

The boy then scurried to his feet, forcing his balance to right itself, and dashed toward the equine. The overly-muscled horse tried to street-brawl the little pip.

The girl watched with visceral glee and swelling heart as the boy weaved about every punch like water. But then a pang of fright hit her as the boy got himself right up to the equine's lumbering penis. She went wide-eyed as the boy's hands wrapped about the stallion's base.

The stallion gasped, and then gripped his massive hands about the boy's neck.

There was a moment of stillness, save for the groaning rat finding the strength to finally start standing, and the wailing lion as he came to terms with his crude abacination.

"What'chya gonna do now, tough guy?" The stallion taunted. "Pump my cock so I cum or..."

The girl watched as the stallion's eyes bulged and his face grimaced.

"Hey! What the fuck're you--!"

The girls that could see whimpered as they heard a sizzling noise.

The calico watched in fascination as smoke began to emanate from between the equine's legs. He began to wail in agony, a crescendo of pain that reverberated and swirled about the confined room. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed.

There was a sudden thud, and the stallion let go of the boy. His face had the most terrified silent scream that made the girls quiver with worry. He took a step back, and then another. His massive testicles swung back and forth, unobstructed by the girth that now lay twitching and sizzling upon the wet, stone floor, amidst a copious puddle of blood.

The stallion beheld his trembling, detached appendage. Emasculated, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and then he slumped to the ground, dying of shock.

The calico blinked and panted as she saw the boy look at her. Then, she caught sight of a shadow; she nudged her chin up to see the rat had gotten to his feet. Determined not to let what happened before happen again, she wriggled and grunted to warn him.

The boy looked at her, and then abruptly whipped around, his arm colliding with the rat's. The knife clattered to the floor once more, and the boy stepped away, darting to the rat's left. The rat clasped both of his hands together, and turned to the boy, sending the massive ball of both fists down toward the boy's skull just as the little mouse paused.

He had caught the boy in limbo; for certain he would make contact.

But then, the boy's pupils dilated. As the fist came down toward the back of his skull, he leaned forward, and the rat's fists collided on the slope of his shoulder-blades. The boy stepped toward the rat, raising his right foot deliberately. As his heel landed, the knee braced, and the boy shouted loudly enough for an echo to reverberate off the walls and snuff a few candles.

The rat grunted as the boy's palm collided with his stomach. It was not a hard punch at all, only enough push the rat a step back while he chuckled. Watching the boy take on his silly stance and look so pitifully intimidating, his chuckling began to turn to outright laughter. He waited as the boy stood with his fingers poised like he was about to clench a fist.

And then they boy's fist snapped closed.

The girls shrieked as a sudden burst of heat flared in the room. The rat didn't even have the chance to scream as his entire body lit with flame. He whipped about, his muscles acting of their own accord, before finally collapsing into a pile of steaming, marred flesh.

Finally, the boy turned to the sobbing lion, resting on his hands and knees.

The girls watched as he walked up to the opulent feline. His hands gently pressed against the lion's neck. The man let out a few more sobs, before they receded to mere whispers, and fell to silence.

His body slumped to the ground.

The boy breathed, the miasma of ash and fire and charred flesh almost noxious. He waited three heartbeats before he went to the girl that was to his left. She winced. "Shh..." he said. "I promise, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

She looked into his eyes, and then nodded.

He reached behind her. He held his face a few inches from her own as she began to weep, as if unsure of what to do. She gasped when she heard a snap and, suddenly, her hands were released.

"You're free." He said gently. Then, he went to the girl made to kneel. She looked up at him, the remains of her deed still clinging to her cheeks and whiskers. He brushed her face a few times, wiping it away, before reaching behind her. She rested her cheek against his neck and began lurching and sniffling as he curled his hands about the taut of the chain that bound her. After a moment, he declared her free as well.

The first girl he had freed was already working to undo the chains of the girl that was to his right.

He started for the girl that had been made to face the wall, when suddenly the door burst open.

"Dad_deee_," the rabbit said rolling her head. "Are you done with that needle-pricked horse yet? I'm dying for your--"

The boy winced as she shrieked, calling for her daddy. She looked to him.

"You!" She hissed. "You did this you little pervert!" She charged at him, gripping his neck. "You wanted all these little sluts for yourself! So you killed my poor daddy! Well I won't have it! You'll die, you little dick! Die!"

But her threats were interrupted when the girl that was to his left pulled the chains that had bound her through and brazenly whipped them across Big Sister's torso. The rabbit coughed and grunted as she relinquished her hold, curling her arms about her body with a painful squeal.

"Shut up!" The little vixen commanded.

The girl that was to his left wasted no time. She made a loop in the chain and, before rabbit could gather herself, slipped it about Big Sister's neck. She pulled it taut.

The rabbit futilely scratched at the chain to try and grasp it, all the while choking and driveling about her muzzle.

The girl that was to his right joined the girl that was to his left. She retrieved one end of the chain. They both went on opposite sides, and began to pull.

Big Sister's eyes bulged as her face started to go blue.

The vixen saw the knife, a few inches from her. She licked her lips, tasting the salty, sticky gunk that crusted her muzzle. Her eyes narrowed, and she retrieved the knife. She dashed up to the rabbit. "This is for making me lick!" She exclaimed, and pried the rabbit's thigh away.

The rabbit let out a pitiful shriek as the knife plunged into her vagina.

The vixen felt a thrill of glee as she twisted and jabbed the knife a few times, making a mess out of the rabbit that forced her to do such a disgusting thing against her will. Finally, she jerked the knife forty-five degrees, causing it to protrude a bit out of the rabbit's mons. She tugged, and tugged, finally jerking it free.

The rabbit writhed and shrieked in pain.

The girl that was to his left gritted her teeth, and turned about. She hoist the chain over her shoulder, buckled her knees in a wide stance, and shouted as she gave the hardest tug she could.

There was a soft, hollow crunch, and Big Sister went silent and limp.

The boy watched, along with the other girls, with wide eyes. The three panted and heaved, hardly believing what they did for themselves; the little vixen began weeping again.

The girl that was to his right went to her, consoling her.

The other went to him. "We have to free the others."

Dumbly, he nodded.

One by one, the girls were freed. Every one that could went to another to help speed up the process, until finally the second-to-last one waited with anticipation as the boy told her it would be okay while gently tugging the chain behind her wrists. Suddenly, her hands felt slack, and the blood rushed back to her arms as they fell forward.

"We can't--" The girl that was made to face the other way grunted.

"We can't free her!" The girl that was to his left repeated.

Their fingers tugged and pulled at the ring surrounding the calico's waist. She breathed heavily, her eyes squinting as she felt despair grip her heart.

"Everyone, quiet." The boy commanded.

The room went still.

"Don't worry about her." He said to the two trying to free the calico--the last trapped girl.

"We can't leave her!" The vixen declared.

"I won't," the boy assured, almost fiercely. "There might be more men, but if they were anywhere around they would have come by now. You all need to find the way out; don't look back, just run and keep running."

The girls exchanged glances.

"And if you don't want me to take back your freedom," he said, almost threateningly, balling a fist; "Don't tell anyone about what you saw me do, understand?"

After a long silence, the girl that was made to face away nodded. "We didn't see any boy here." She declared. The others nodded with her.

"Go!" He shouted.

They scurried away.

Amidst the silence of the aftermath, the girl that remained whimpered.

"It's okay," the boy said. "I'll get you free." He approached her. He looked up to her face. She looked down at him. "I didn't really mean what I said," he explained; "I just..." His eyes flattened.

She was raised such that her crotch was directly at his head height.

He looked at the metal ring about her waist. He then glanced back up to her. She was watching him, her breaths slowing. He went back to the ring. His eyes wiggled, staring at that tilted heart just below the metal. He resisted the urge to look down at her intimate parts, and yet he was practically staring at them right now.

Carefully, he touched the metal ring with his fingertips. He reached around, needed to lean in, forcing his muzzle to get ever closer to her body. As his nimble fingers traced the ring to find the back, his nose pressed into her, gently.

Her fur was so soft, so downy. It tickled his nose, her supple skin pressing against it as she took stunted breaths. He could smell the sweet perfume that wafted from her loins, and the earthy aroma of sand caught in her fur.

By the time his thumbs connected at the back of the ring, his lips pressed onto her skin. He felt his cheeks burn with warmth. His heart began to pound. Something began to stir in him; something that he resented and yet that quickly overwhelmed him.

His fingers pinched the ring.

The girl watched tensely. She felt her stomach tremble with every breath as his lips pressed against her naked front. She switched between disgust and... She let out a muffled gasp; there came a subtle snap, and the ring went limp upon her hips.

Carefully, he moved his left hand along the ring, holding it steady with the right. He went a quarter-way and pinched. After a few seconds, that quarter of the ring clattered to the ground.

He shifted his right hand, and did the same.

She breathed rapidly as she heard the second quarter drop, feeling the uncomfortable metal drop away from the back of her hip.

He carefully pulled the free half of the ring away from her front, and turned. He whipped his hand, sending the piece of metal whistling through the air, only to sickeningly stick into the flesh of the lion like some mutant tail.

The girl shook.

"Bastard." He muttered, and then placed his hands on her hips. "Hold still," he instructed. "I'll get your hands next; don't move or your might... feel a sting," he said.

She nodded. Her eyes squinted as she saw him look down at his hands, and at her tummy for a few seconds longer. Then, his palms slid behind her, just as he had done before along the ring--except this time, about her waist.

Her thin belly-fur felt soft as silk against his fingertips. The coarser fur of her back yielded and molded about his knuckles with a kind of welcoming allure. He looked up along her belly, his eyes passing her pert nipples and flush-red chest, and finally up to her bit-gagged mouth. "S--sorry," he said. "I can't reach any other way..." He pressed his cheek against her mons.

He heard her heart beat. It was somewhat rapid; nervousness or fear. His was beating quickly, too. He found the chains about her wrists, and then pressed more firmly against her as he reached for the links beyond her hands.

As he gripped them, he suddenly heard her groan. He felt his spine tingle; he pushed his cheek against her once more, and felt a bit of moisture trickle just below the crook of his neck, accompanied by another groan.

He was acutely aware of his stiffening erection. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. He pinched the chain, all he needed, and after a few moments of wavering focus, the chain snapped and rattled as it loosened.

She writhed as she wrenched her arms free. She wrung them out a few times, feeling pins and needles course through them. Fumbling, she grasped the bit on either side and pulled it forward, craning her head back. She pried one side loose, gasping out of the corner of her mouth as she did, and finally the other followed. She grunted as she smeared the spit covering the bit across her cheek to get her head through. At last, it tapped gently against the wall.

She gulped down a deep breath, exhaling and taking in another as if she had almost drowned. The relief of getting a full breath without the pinch of the ring or the inhibition of the bit was more gratifying than a grand feast all to herself.

And finally, her reverie fulfilled, she stared down at the boy. He looked up to her, his lips ajar. She reached down, resting her hands on his shoulders, silently asking for help.

He nodded. "Easy," he said, bracing her hips. "One leg at a time."

She nodded as he clasped her left calf, and gently pulled. She aided him, doing her best to shift all her weight on the other leg. The stirrup peeled away from her fur, a bit of a sting making her wince as the pressure was relieved.

He held her for balance as she began to work the other leg. She clasped the wall and tried to nudge forward. He knocked the candle over before she accidentally hit the flame as her tail dropped.

And then she felt the rush of gravity.

The boy grunted as her weight fell on him. He stepped back, absorbing the momentum to keep them from tumbling to the rancid ground. He breathed heavily as she stood weakly, embracing him. After a moment of straining, he pushed against her a bit to help her balance on her own.

As she slid against him, her heels lowering to the ground, she felt something warm prod at her folds. The boy suddenly grunted, and his hips jerked. Her eyes shot open as a terrible pain erupted from her loins.

"G--gods..." The boy gasped. The warmth that enveloped him made his eyes roll up and his knees quiver. It wasn't until he registered the weak shriek of pain barely above a whisper that he realized what had happened.

"N--no!" He stepped back, violently parting from the girl.

She winced, cupping her groin.

He looked down. Blood covered his loins, mixed with a viscous, sticky fluid. His eyes went back to the girl as she pulled her hands away. Her palms were stained with the same blood, as was her tenderness.

She glared.

He tried to speak, but a sharp sting on his cheek silenced him. His left eye saw white specs dancing about in his vision, and compounded with the earlier blow to his head, vertigo sent him stumbling backward.

As he landed on the motionless horse-phallus he listened to her footfalls and the echoes of her sobs as she made her escape.

* * *

For some time he remained motionless, until he regained his full senses. He got to his feet, covered in blood and other fluids. He had no idea how long he had been there; but he did not intend to stay any longer.

Making his way out the door he had seen the lion come through, he was met with a long hallway. Near the end of the hall, a flight of stairs was lit by candles in alcoves placed in the wall. At the end of the stairs, he emerged from the floor.

To his right, a hollow block of stone and Persian rug were caste aside. To his left was a simple wooden table and ornate, stone chairs. On the far wall, a window near the ceiling. Behind him, a closed and latched door.

A lit lamp was slowly dying upon the table.

The high window showed red light. Night was falling.

He saw scuff-marks and stains on the wall beneath the window; the other girls must have found their way out through there. But what about the other one--the one he had...

A wave of guilt and anger crashed upon him.

He pushed the thought of her out of his mind.

Hopping onto the table, it was an easy reach for him to the window. He clambered up, and peeked outside.

He could see the large wall that surrounded the circumference of the city. He was near the outskirts--the slums.

There was little chance he would be seen. Not by anyone who mattered. He breached the threshold, and dropped down on the other side.

Far to his left, the sandstone blocks glowed red with fire as the light of the setting sun fell upon the high buildings and rigid bell-towers. The evidence of the top of the wall lay several yards before him on the street; a bend of light and shadow, ever yielding to the darkness as night progressed.

Already now, the air was chilled. He, with short fur and naked, quickly searched and found a line of laundry rustling in the gentle, fresh breeze. He stole for a second time that day, but again he justified it on survival.

Somewhat decent, he made for the city wall. There were weep-holes, designed to let air circulate through and keep the walls from crumbling with the rapid heating and cooling during dusk and dawn. These weep-holes were just big enough to allow a child--or an emaciated piece of property--passage through.

Outside, the city wall made it appear he emerged from a roaring inferno. And indeed, he may as well have.

The open expanse of sand and dune made for an intimidating landscape. Barely any ventured beyond the walls far enough to hunt or seek for other oases. The only ones willing to make a journey more than that were those with wares that knew the way to the ends of the earth; or those weary, who knew the way to the end.

And yet he was of a few; the exception to the rule. He had not a ware nor was old enough to see the end. But he did know the way.

If he started now, with haste, he would make it before the last light left the sky.

His feet began to trot, and then he briskly jogged. Sand kicked up behind him, caught and carried by the wind as it rose in its fierceness. He listened to the echoing whistle of the weep-holes from the city behind him, already a great distance in his wake.

The sun lit the tops of cliffs in the distance, a two-hour's length at his current speed. He longed for them. Longed for home. The day had been so rife with everything he did not wish for.

More so, he longed for the past. His footfalls became heavier as he came upon a stone twice his height jutting from the earth like a mighty fist. Now an hour's length away, probably more as he gasped for breath, the boy spotted a cactus not far from the stone.

He roused the strength to get to it. His tongue was parched. He clutched his rib as a pain formed in his side.

Should you ever find yourself too far from home with thirst, seek a cactus.

The words made the pain sting harder. The memories welling tears in his eyes. He took in a deep breath, and carefully reached toward the cactus. He placed his finger ever-so-slowly between a row of needles. Then, he concentrated.

He moved his finger to the left. The needles began to fall away as the flat of his fingertip grazed the skin of the cactus, causing it to peel up. It was not how he was shown; it was a way that only he could manage.

He slowly moved his finger in circles, until he could put a second, third, fourth, and then his entire hand upon the bare skin of the cactus. He ran his palm, peeling and stripping more needles away, making room for both hands. He worked his palms across the cactus. And then, he stopped abruptly.

The dark, upright cactus took on a peculiar shape in his mind. He shook his head until a wave of dizziness threatened his balance. His hands fell away, and he held his fingers rigid against one another. His hand whipped out, chopping into the cactus; he pulled back, and chopped again, the impact emitting a soft, fleshy thud.

The cactus limb began to tilt, and finally it crackled as it snapped and fell onto the sand, disturbing it into a shallow plume.

He reached down, and quickly ran his hands across, stripping away the needles as fast as he could. He did not want to do the act for longer than he needed. It sent an agitated shiver down his spine.

At last, the cactus was stripped. He placed his hands upon the smooth log, and then opened his jaws wide. He bit into it, the slippery, sticky innards clinging to his palate and tongue. He gagged, never fond of the texture. But the water was refreshing, if a bit tangy.

He took several more bites, the serendipity of quenching his thirst and filling his stomach very welcome.

Then he paused. The hairs on the nape of his neck began to prick up. Abruptly, he stood and whipped about. Behind him, the stone jutted out from the earth. Now, in the darkness, it also took on a peculiar shape.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist.

A caw came from the rock, and the wind began to beat.

He closed his eyes to still himself. Just a buzzard, disappointed that he was not a meal.

Reinvigorated, the boy began to run. The cold was starting to settle. However, it was oddly bearable tonight. Perhaps it was because the moon glowed brightly in the sky, casting its blue hue upon the world.

Even his home was lit in an ethereal, azure glow. It gave him a sense of peace as the cliff walls loomed more and more before him.

Finally, as the wind swept the silent sands and the scorpions and spiders scuttled about the surface, his palms touched the cold stone exterior of his domain. He rested his cheek against it, already feeling comforted and warm inside.

He promised he would stay for a while, at least a day. He had enough rations for a fortnight before he was to really struggle. It was by his own volition he try and start resupplying now.

Always plan--never find yourself yearning.

He climbed up the hand-holds disguised into the cliff-face. Several yards up, he looked toward the open land. He surveyed the dunes, watching as another buzzard shuffled about on the ground in the distance; an unfortunate victim of the harshness of life.

He was safe. None dared come this far. That was why he had lived here for so long. In all his young life, he had not seen another soul within miles of this place, save for--

He grunted, the pain in his side coming back. He released a handhold to massage it. Perhaps the sword had nicked him. And yet, he did not really mind the subtle sting in his neck at all anymore.

With the pain ebbing, he continued upward. His fingers grasped the lip of a particular face, and he hoisted himself over. He rested on the flange, his hand upon the top of the ladder. Once again, he peeked out over the brim of the hidden entryway.

The buzzard was still there. He squinted--but even at night the sands were blurry.

Plus, he was tired. He navigated the ladder, listening to its creaks and groans as it stressed to support him. Finally, his heels touched the soft, smooth stone of his home.

He slowly walked down the corridor, guided solely by memories of traversing this path thousands of times over. He made his way blindly toward his bedroom, stopping at the threshold of a passageway just before.

He peered into the darkness. A tiny shaft of moonlight spilled through a crack in the ceiling.

The pain came back again.

Bearing it, he proceeded on to the next room just a few paces further. He collapsed within the hard, cocoon-shaped stone that served as his bed, nestling into its gentle parabolic curve.

He curled into a fetal-position, shivering for a moment. But, after a while, the air about him began to take warmth. A few moments later, to the sound of the wind gently whispering through the slivers of his cliff-bed abode,

He slept.