The Long Journey Home, Chapter 4
Jon can't seem to catch a break, as his adventure catches a snag, and his progress is completely halted.
Since his capture, the otter has endured terrible punishment over the course of several days, and none of his old friends or fellow villagers are willing to help him out, in the face of Terek's might. Stained with cum, exhausted and defeated, Terek hopes that Jon will see the importance of staying in the village, but the resilient otter refuses the offer, hoping to escape as quickly as possible.
His defiance only leads him to further hardship, but a glimmer of hope is moving in the distance, if he can survive long enough to meet with it.
As always, read, comment and enjoy!
Just one night of humiliation would probably have been enough for Jon, but it wouldn't have been nearly enough for those who felt that he'd betrayed them.
Different perspectives often resulted in a different idea of what was fitting, however, and Jon could still feel pain across his backside, every bit as fresh as it was the moment that his torture started.
That was several nights before, and though the poor otter was showing a simply incredible resolve, he only had so much energy left to give. No matter how many times his ass was smacked with a paw, stick or a club, he could still feel a terrible sting running up from the base of his spine and burning in the bottom of his skull. No matter how many of his fellow otters came around to finger his asshole or insert something more more sinister into his body, his inner muscles still clenched as tightly as they could, trying to prevent the forbidden penetration.
If it carried on much longer, however, he truly believed that the treatment would break him.
"I've gotta admit, I was pretty sure that you would have passed out from exhaustion by now," admitted Terek, who somehow managed to stay out and awake the entire time that Jon did. He took a twisted, disgusting pride in watching Jon suffer, and acted as an overlord to the act as the otter struggled against his bondage. His wrists were burning and nearly stripped of their fur from the tight, painful ropes that bound them, and his back was stiff to the point that even if he were freed, he wasn't sure that he would be able to move. "That kind of endurance will serve our village well, especially when we decide that you're fit to actually serve us again."
Such a fate wasn't something that Jon relished, but the river of hope that ran through his heart was suffering a drought that he didn't think he could ever recover from. Keeping Likita in his thoughts was the only thing that had gotten him this far, but as worn down as he was, he could scarcely remember her name.
Can't...see straight...anymore...
Even thoughts were escaping Jon, anymore. His efforts to cling to consciousness were so great that it helped him to forget just how hungry and thirsty he was, but survival instinct could only take him so far.
His body knew that going into shock would be a better option than trying to hold on any longer.
"Has everyone who wanted to take a turn had a shot at our poor little slut?" Terek called out to the crowds that remained. Over the course of several days, the initial, booming crowd of otters had dispersed, and most of them were back and about their normal lives again. A few, truly sadistic members of the crowd matched Jon in his determination, however, and refused to give his body any sort of a break.
For the first time, just past the point of three days, one of the males didn't experience any resistance as he twisted a singular pawtip against Jon's anus and pressed it forth, digging into the exhausted, loosened orifice. It was such an easy task that one might think Jon was actually enjoying himself, but Terek was the one who saw the reality. He was still busy pounding his hips into Jon's muzzle, filling the tied otter's mouth with a full, thick cock to keep him from replying, when he finally saw the glazed look that overtook his eyes.
"...Nevermind, I guess. We've really run this poor guy into the ground."
Splashes of saliva and semen were soaked into Jon's fur, all across the small of his back and the curve of his rump. His asshole was stretched, finally to the point that his inner muscles couldn't properly clench anymore. His manhood, once stimulated to the point of stiffness from all of the contact, was drooling precum all over his own stomach, but was in horrible discomfort from all of the pressure that it endured over the course of the week. His limbs felt as though they were ablaze from how stretched they were, and the ropes around them refused to give him any sort of a break, even if Terek was finally finding the littlest scraps of mercy about himself.
There was no part of Jon that was sacred anymore, thanks to the otter tribe. He was used and abused, far beyond the point of recovery, and he'd finally succumb to the clutches of proper exhaustion.
"Untie him and take him back to the tents. He's been fully broken...nurse him back to health, and make sure to alert me when he wakes up," Terek instructed, keeping a close eye on Jon as the lesser otters came to undo his bondage. Heavy, desperate eyelids finally came to close as a stupefied look was painted upon Jon's muzzle, right between the errant stains of cum across his cheeks and lips. He likely didn't even know what planet he was on anymore, and when Jon awoke, only further torture would bring him back around...Terek would make very sure of that.
**
Perhaps the last bastion of Jon's hope, Likita, was moving like a blur across the plains, using the guise of the evening darkness to keep her figure hidden.
"Even the elders can't be trusted," she groaned, as she clutched a spear tightly in her paws. Her footpaws were swift and careful upon the ground, taking great care not to fall and spear herself, but she knew that she had to move quick, and she wasn't sure where she could go. "Ulrus must have already spread rumors of false treachery by now..."
It might have been wiser of Likita to go straight to the elders, as she'd planned, but she was nearly exhausted, simply from escaping Ulrus and the other hunters. She worried that going back to the village would be a death sentence, and though her better judgment told her that she'd be protected as the only medicine woman in the village, she'd seen the truly dark side that Ulrus kept hidden from her before.
He'd always been a thorn in her side, of course, and always been an arrogant ass, but she always took that as his method of trying to court her. Being boastful and overly outgoing seemed an all too typical way for wolves to try to attract a mate, but that was often mere fluff that could be debunked later. Likita truly believed the best in all people, no matter how gruff or obnoxious they were on the surface.
She'd be sure not to make that mistake again.
"Jon went north...that's all I can know for sure," Likita thought aloud, unable to keep her thoughts purely in her mind as she ran. Voicing the words helped to pace her breathing and keep her from getting too wiped out, but she'd need to rest before too long, and already, she could feel the callouses on her footpaws tearing and bleeding. She had only pure adrenaline left in the tank, and sweat poured over her forehead, leaving an ethereal gleam upon her fur in the moonlight.
She was a pale, silvery blur, moving across the blueish-green of the tall grass, but her elegance was little more than pure desperation. She was lost, she was scared, and she was alone, but she was alive, and she knew who she wanted to find.
**
Thoughts of a white-furred wolf escaped Jon as he was kicked awake by a harsh, cold splash of water upon his face.
When he first arrived at his village, she was all that he could think about, and the thought of seeing her again some day was keeping him hopeful, but it was a new day, and after his prolonged torture, he'd almost forgotten ever meeting her.
"Com...o...wa...Jon!"
The occasional sound was still reaching Jon, but his ears weren't properly dissecting them. His arms were still too exhausted to even reach up and rub the sleep from his eyes, and his paws were radiating with pins and needles, still numb from their prolonged bondage.
"Move you...lazy ass, Jon!"
As the sounds became proper sentences, and Jon begrudgingly accepted the reality of waking up once again, disgusted memories began to swirl in his mind, and behind them, a sense of regret formed. He'd scarcely struggled against his captors, and in hindsight, he realized just how easily he relegated himself to his fate, even knowing that he still felt some sense of loyalty to Likita.
Just the thought of her name sent a burning across his mind, like a wildfire tearing through the dried fields of a waning meadow.
"There we go...there's a couple eyeballs!" Terek declared, as Jon's eyelids finally managed to lift. Even that action seemed like a bit of a struggle, and moving was simply out of the question, as Jon hadn't consumed a single thing in almost four days. He'd had only water to keep his body alive, and the splash of it upon his muzzle seemed like more of a waste than anything. "You still with us, Jon? I know you're alive, at least!"
Jon couldn't possibly reply...not so quickly and easily. Accepting consciousness was such a nauseating effort that he was looking for the nearest container that he could respectfully vomit into, and there didn't seem to be any antidote for what was ailing him.
The small plate of food nearby didn't look even the least bit appetizing, and he didn't expect that it was meant for him, anyway. "You've gotta give me some kinda response, Jon. I'm starting to think you've just got rigor mortis or something!"
Even cracking his jaw open to reply felt like such a struggle for Jon that he wasn't sure he could muster it. He wanted to try; to open his maw and scream his lungs out at Terek for what he'd done, but no matter how wholly he focused on doing just that, he couldn't manage.
He didn't know if he could make a single sound.
"Well, I can tell that you hear me, even if you don't feel like saying too much, yourself," Terek continued, as if Jon actually had replied. "Your eyes aren't entirely glazed over anymore. That's good. We really need all of the help we can get around the village anymore...and I'm guessing you would have preferred a slightly different form of explanation."
Jon could only muster a half-lidded glare in reply.
"You weren't going to get that. You forfeited such a grace when you decided to run away, all that time ago...we don't owe you anything," Terek explained. "You have to deal with whatever we feel is fitting, or, rather, whatever I feel is fitting. If you ask me, we've honestly been too easy on you, but at least you were able to prove your mettle. You could still be of use to us, after all."
"Useful...?"
"Yes. I still think you could be useful."
"After a-all of this time," Jon stammered, trying to embrace his own anger as his voice was roused back to life. "All you can think of is usefulness?"
"That's the kind of thing you're forced to think of in moments of crisis, Jon. You ran away from proper responsibility...you don't know anything about that."
"No," Jon growled, though he gave up the sound when a pain arose in the depths of his dry, arid throat. "I had to survive without a tribe, on my own, without any sort of shelter or companionship. I wouldn't know the f-first thing about responsibility."
Terek rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms over the slim, broad space of his chest and tried to keep his composure, something that Jon wasn't used to seeing out of him. "You brought all of those hardships on yourself when you decided to leave. You won't find any sympathy for such actions, here."
"I don't want sympathy. I want freedom."
"That isn't going to happen."
"Why not?"
Rare as it was for a leader to show any sign of weakness in front of someone that they didn't respect, Terek actually turned away from Jon and glanced to the side of the tent they were sharing. "Because we actually need you here, much as it pains me to admit it. It really doesn't matter what you're doing...we need more help around the village, and we need the kind of help that can work on very little food and water."
"And after what you just put me through, you really think that I'd offer to help you?"
"...I thought for sure that we'd broken you, Jon. I'm surprised you have any fight left in you at all."
"For a moment, I think you did," Jon was surprisingly quick to admit, "But you gave me a chance to catch my breath."
"Hmmph. That's really all it took? Just a quick splash of water to the face?"
Jon reached over to the food on the plate near his side, uncaring of if it was meant for him or not. The shortbread crumbled in his paws, and he stuffed the crumbs rudely into his muzzle, refusing to look away from Terek. He could almost sense the discomfort upon his fellow otter, and even if it paled in comparison to what had been done to him, he still wanted to make his frustrations entirely known. "That, and hearing just how badly you needed me to do something for you...can't tell you how fired up it gets me to think of you failing as a leader...all because I wasn't willing to cooperate."
"You really feel like spending three more days tied down to a log, getting paws shoved up your ass and cocks stuffed down your throat? I'd be more than happy to accommodate you, honestly!"
"I've had worse."
Jon was like a wall of stone, and Terek had to keep his gaze averted. He didn't want to show just how frustrated he was with the smaller otter, and certainly not give the impression that Jon might be in control of the situation.
"I will break you down, Jon. You'll rejoin our tribe before long. I don't know what it's going to take to make you see just how serious this is, but I've got plenty more ideas to exact upon you."
"And I look forward to turning you down every single time in the future, Terek. There isn't a damn thing you can do to change my mind, at this point."
Terek grunted and gritted his fangs. An essence of hatred poured from his eyes as Jon sat defiantly before him, taking another quick bite from the cheap roll of bread he'd found.
"I'll make you eat those words tonight, Jon. You'll regret having ever defied me..."
"I've heard that one before."
The quick, resilient snicker was the one of the last sounds that Jon was allowed to make, that evening.
**
For otters, trees were a symbol of strength and respect. They were a provider of so many different resources that it was considered sacrilege to abuse them, and if one were to be cut down, it couldn't be done in vain, and certainly not wastefully. Trees were much like hunted animals: every part was to be used, until nothing was left, and anything that might remain was to be thanked and adored.
All of those facts made the way that Terek chose to punish Jon that much more humiliating and degrading.
One of the many wonders of nature was how mortal men often tried to imitate it. The fallen log that was used to keep Jon in bondage the days previous was a good example, and the ropes that strained him to it were the only artificial addition.
That night, Terek was determined to go a little bit too far, and he wasn't at all concerned with just how disrespectful the action was.
"Is this really how far you've fallen, Terek? Do you really think that this will prove anything? That this will change anything?"
Terek spat at the ground as he gripped Jon tightly by the tufts of his ears. "I'm well past the point of caring about such trivial matters, Jon. The choice of whether you rejoin our village and assist us is going to be a matter of life and death, before too long. I'm doing this for myself."
"You'd commit such a blasphemous act...all for the sake of your own twisted enjoyment?!"
Chuckling, Terek tensed his forearms so fully that veins began to pop up through his fur, and he pulled Jon's head through the small hole in the tree. It was such a tight gap that Jon was shocked his head fit through it, and he cried out in pain as he felt his ears nearly being ripped from his head, but Terek didn't show even the faintest hint of remorse for his actions. "Heh. Does that really surprise you, Jon?"
It would have been a forlorn thought for Jon, who was trying to grit his fangs together, wishing that he could drown out the grunts of pain that seemed to force themselves from his lungs. "_Nnnnngh... graaah! _ What in the blue hell is wrong with you, Terek?"
"More than you and I have time to cover this evening...but it's nothing that a little physical abuse can't help me through."
Jon gulped. His head was stuck right through the trunk of the unique tree, and before that had even occurred, his body was leaned against the trunk, and his paws were tied around the front of it. There was no way that he could possibly pry himself away, and his shame about defacing the respectable tree with his nude body was sadly the least of his concerns. He was slumped and hunched over, forcing his backside to stick out and away from the trunk, and even if his footpaws were to slip, there wasn't a thing he could do to stop a passerby from having their way with him.
If the situation was just a little different, Jon might have liked the idea, and he could even think of a couple people that he wouldn't mind happening upon him, but as it stood, he was having trouble imagining a worse fate.
"You won't be subjected to the entirety of the village this time, Jon. I don't think that they appreciate the abuse that you can endure like I do. I don't think that they really want to abuse you the way that I do. They've just learned their lessons, already...and it was easier to comply with my suggestion to punish you than to speak out against it."
Jon thought to question just how Terek managed to have the entire village in such a deadly, unwavering grip. He didn't understand how the fear of famine and drought made it so easy for Terek to control everyone that he once knew and cared about, but he'd seen it in the way that they so obediently and blindly obeyed his every order. The village wasn't such a place of debauchery when he left it, and the change was something that didn't sit well with him.
He thought to question it, but he didn't get the chance.
A thick, frustrated grunt was muffled by the feel of Jon's own loincloth being stuffed into his muzzle, as Terek quickly silenced him. "But I really do appreciate you, Jon. I honestly missed you when you left...and I couldn't figure out why I did. You were just a common, failed hunter, looking for any sort of purpose in the village. Perhaps I pitied you for being so terrible at what you did...perhaps I envied you for not having the kind of responsibilities that I did. I really can't be sure," Terek started to explain. He paused his monologue as he walked around to the back of the tree, taking his time in visually appreciating the way that Jon's body had a natural, submissive curve to it, as if it were beckoning him to mount the trapped otter and have his way with him right then. "It almost sickens me to admit that I have any kind of a fascination with you, but I'm not sure what else to call it. All I really know is that I'm not going to let the others in the village see it..."
The particular tree that Jon was bound to was as far away from the village as it could be, while still resting on the otter's tribelands. It was dangerous to flirt with the borders of it, even when the creatures were living in a time of moderate peace, but it was the easiest way for Terek to insure that Jon wouldn't be disturbed.
It should have been a perfect plan, and Terek was downright cocksure of himself as he stepped right behind Jon, sliding the dull, blunt tips of his claws along the perked rear of the trapped otter. He was simply arrogant in his safety, even as his pawtips slid a little further down, gliding along Jon's firm, swollen sack, teasing the very base of the delicate, sensitive flesh before he finally let his thumb rest upon Jon's asshole once again. Even after his mild break, it was still stretched to the point that Terek slipped in easily, without even a sliver of remorse.
The ground beneath his footpaws was softening as his hubris soiled the earth, and deadly karma was approaching from behind, as Jon was taken in the same way.