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I had a love interest, if you can believe that, after what I just confided in you. Her name was Aidela and her father was a miller. We had known each other from childhood, when I would help her pick flowers to braid into her golden fur.

She loved books, but couldn't read for the life of her. I had resolved that, one day, I would teach her. Until then, we would sit together on the ledge of the town well, her beautiful head leaning on my shoulder while I read to her: poetry, romances, reports. Anything I had bound that week was fair game.

Perhaps love was a strong word for our youthful exuberance, but it was Aidela who occupied my thoughts as I trudged through the muddy track left by the caravan of survivors. There were only a handful of us, bound by the wrists to one another and prodded on by the threat of--well, I wasn't sure, to be honest. Whatever it was, there wasn't a soul among us willing to find out.

Aidela wasn't with us. In one of my finest moments of optimism, I hoped she had escaped the carnage we had left behind. Wet, tired, and experiencing a soreness I would prefer not to remember, I imagined a scenario where her family had fled at the sound of the alarms, retreating to the safety of another town.

I wondered if we were any better off than those who died, defending our sacked town. I didn't know what use these cats had for a collection of abused canines, such as we were, but none of my theories were comforting. A corner of my mind recalled a story of one tribe that ritualistically killed and ate its prisoners.

Now, before you say anything, I realize that it was a far-fetched idea. I tried to tell myself that, but I was soon hard at work formulating a plan to avoid such a fate. I certainly had no skills of value for a barbarian tribe with no written language. I reasoned that all I really had to have was a little more value than the other survivors.

I eyed my neighbors in the most practical fashion. Most were young men, no older than I, though they all looked stronger. Considering my choice of vocation, this was hardly a surprising revelation. I could remember some of their names from temple classes, though it took some time. Their dirty muzzles were a shadow of their former selves.

The felines towered around us, each heaving their own weight in loot from the town. Loot, to them, anyway. To think so many lives were destroyed over a few trinkets, foodstuffs and supplies. They marched us far off of the beaten road, forcing our bare paws through the hilly countryside until we disappeared into the tree line of Garshen Forest.

As the longest day of my life, to date, wore on, I got a better look at our captors. The surviving raiding party must have consisted of thirty to forty felines, each as massive as the one who assaulted me. They ranged from solid black panthers, to mottled yellow cougars, to striped orange tigers, to pure white lions, and every combination in between.

They wore as little as their prisoners, but made up for it with war markings on their fur, battle trophies I will not detail, crude piercings and ornamental trinkets adorning their bodies. Decency was not a concept, apparently, as even a loincloth was a rare occurrence. Those that wore them, I assumed to have higher station among their peers. This was, at least, consistent with their demeanor.

Though some of them were stronger than others, there was no clear chain of command. I had yet to identify a single leader among them, if one even existed. They avoided contact with one another, each marching a distance from the next, but leaving little room to contemplate escaping between their ranks.

Nightfall gave me an even better opportunity to observe them, along with a long-awaited chance to rest my bruised and aching legs. There was no camp to set up and no fire to kindle. They simply set their loot together in the center of a small clearing, gathering us into a tight cluster around it.

The women from our town, whom I have neglected to mention to this point, were gathered into a separate cluster from the men. At the time, I worried about what the felines might plan on doing to them, but now I realize how much I would have preferred to be with them. Not a hair of their fur was harmed that night.

I could leave it at that but I gather, if you've listened to me until this point, you aren't the type to shy away from the details of our encounter. We watched the felines gather around our unfortunate group. The feline hierarchy became more evident, as five of the most impressive among them stepped forward to scrutinize our group, among them my original captor.

He passed me by, with disinterest, his eyes settling on a black wolf named Railec who was kneeling behind me. I saw him take out that familiar obsidian knife, sawing through the bonds that attached Railec to the rest of us, but taking care to leave the wolf's wrists cuffed to one another as he dragged him into the crowd of beasts standing in wait.

I stared up at a massive white lion who had paused his inspection at me. His mane was tied back into heavy braids that hung about his neck and shoulders. His eyes were set with black irises that stood in stark contrast to the rest of his body. Highlighted by the moonlight filtering through the trees, his chest heaved long, slow breaths that I could feel, blasting across my ears.

He reached for me, cupping my chin in his palm and lifting my muzzle to the left, then the right. I felt his clawed thumb pry my lips apart and jab itself between my teeth, shoving my tongue out of the way as he scrutinized the inside of my open maw. The thumb ran along the edges of my teeth, tasting of salt and dirt, but I knew better than to spit it out.

He released me and prepared to move on, but just as I breathed my sigh of relief, he made his decision. I was cut free of the others and dragged by the ears, like some slain rabbit, across the dirt as I scrambled to keep up. Crawling through the crowd, I followed the lion toward the edge of the clearing where he tossed me against the ground. A small entourage of three other felines had broken free of the others to follow him and I couldn't help but whine at the combined mass of the four creatures that towered over my crouching body.

They descended on me with hungry growls, outstretched paws, and other appendages I need not mention. I had long since lost the shame of being disrobed, having marched in the tattered and stained remains of my clothing for the better part of a day. It was relieving, to be honest, to have them torn from my legs. I cried out as they began to grapple at my bare fur, tugging me in every direction, without any indication of what I should do to placate them.

Leathery digits groped between my legs, and each yelp they squeezed from me exacted a roar of laughter. I grit my teeth as the rough handling of my sheath rubbed at the sensitive flesh housed within. My body responded in the only way that was natural, giving them even more to laugh about as they peeled the sheath back to reveal my hardening shaft.

It didn't take long for the lion to lose his patience with his friends. "Kabak!" He snarled at the others, kneeling in front of me and grabbing a tuft of fur between my ears. He ground my muzzle into the dirt as his body hovered over mine, possessively, and I could feel the other paws slowly remove themselves from my tortured loins.

Once his authority was re-established, I was yanked back up, my nose shoved between the feline's legs and under the sweat-stained leather of his loincloth. I inhaled, my eyes tearing from the stench of it all, and felt the warm, matted fur of his bulging sheath pressed firmly to my lips. The leather draped over my muzzle as fear guided me to work, my tongue extending to wet the sheath in front of me. Through it, I could feel the lion's rumbling approval, and his two heavy orbs bumped my chin insistently.

The extended claws against my head were a constant reminder of just how vulnerable I was to him. The wet, tapered tip of the lion's maleness was rubbing across the fur atop my muzzle as I coaxed it free of its home. I dreaded it, but soon I was dragged back and the beast probed my lips with the sticky member, gliding it across my foreteeth.

I honestly considered biting it off, just then. He must have detected my defiance, because the next thing I felt was the searing pain of his claws sinking into the skin of my nape. I opened my muzzle to cry, but managed nothing more than a muffled yelp as the lion stuffed himself through the crack of my teeth, splaying my lips around the girth of his member until it was buried against my throat.

I could taste the salty fluid running out against my tongue and dribbling into the back of my throat. It wasn't an ounce more palatable than last time. The throbbing pain of broken skin on my neck removed any doubt of my obedience as the lion wiped his claws clean on the fur of my cheek, already wet with tears.

I fear that I may bore you, going on about my own misfortunes, as though I were the only victim of this tragedy. To be fair, there were twelve other boys subjected to my treatment. Railec, for one, was hardly four yards away from me. It took me some time to realize it, but once I did, I used his scene to distance myself from my own harsh reality. He was used in a fashion that makes my last account pale, in comparison.

When we were growing up, Railec was a lean, black wolf who's piercing yellow eyes won him a great deal of affection from the girls of our town. In temple class, we always joked about how he never left any for the rest of us. What worked so well for him then, worked just as well against him now. No less than seven felines were gathered around the poor boy, who knelt with a surprising calm between their legs.

When I began to watch, Railec was already nursing on the end of a pink shaft, belonging to a panther. Within each paw, his fingers massaged the lengths of another captor, while others competed for the attention of his occupied digits. The white tiger, easily doubling the small wolf's dimensions, knelt behind him and used one of his massive paws to guide the pup's head to work.

I could barely make out the movement of Railec's tail, between the mass of shifting appendages, but what followed was difficult to mistake for anything else. The widening of his eyes and the gurgled yelp was indication enough as the tiger seized his hips with his other mitt and thrust forward. I could see the wolf's body lurch with that familiar pain, sinking his muzzle deeper onto the panther's shaft.

I winced as the fiery pain of a clawed finger wriggled its way into my own rear, tearing me back to my own work. The other felines, evidently, had had enough of watching the lion have his fun and were joining in again. The black cock embedded between my lips dribbled with my saliva as I suckled on it like a pup at a mother's teat. I groped at it with my bound paws, kneading against its base and throwing myself into the work in the hope that the better I made it feel, the sooner he would be done with me.

A pained cry brought me back to Railec's world. He had since collapsed onto his forepaws as the weight of the tiger, riding over his back, forced him down. The wet slap of the panther's cock, slipping free of his lips, was followed by an annoyed growl from its owner. Railec wasted no time nuzzling apologetically between the black cat's thighs, unable to reach his previous mark and panting heavily with the very effort of maintaining his position.

A larger panther, impatiently waiting behind the first, decided that his predecessor had lost his chance. "Harshk nar oa ta." I heard him speak gutturally, as they all did, before shoving his way past and kneeling in front of Railec's muzzle. My view of Railec was obscured by the new feline's muscular frame, but it didn't take much imagination to realize that my equivalent was getting more to chew on.

The white paw guiding my head squeezed as my tongue scraped against the rough skin of his shaft. My muzzle was feeling dry from the effort, having had little to drink through the day. Have you ever tried to coax your own saliva out? Under pressure, it can be the most frustrating experience. It made little difference, as ultimately the lion roared into my ears and I could feel the surge of his fluids swell through my clasped paws and flood into my aching maw.

I tried to swallow it, but it was bitter and thick and my throat would not allow it. I wretched as another shot of seed splattered the roof of my muzzle and drained out of my lips, wetting the leaves strewn about the dirt beneath me. The thick shaft was relentless, spurting more of the stuff as it trickled warmly down my chin and neck fur.

I nearly bit him, again, out of surprise. Occupied with what was shooting onto my tongue, I had lost track the others around me. Two paws gripped my hips, now, as a feline I couldn't even see propelled himself against my upturned rear. My tail was filled with the sudden pain, though soreness from my previous abuse did nothing to ease the experience.

I must have bit down, a little, because the lion's claws yanked my head off of his cock, a heavy paw slamming against my cheek in rebuke and tossing my head against the sticky puddle of mud I had collected beneath me. I just allowed myself to sink into it, my teeth closing against each other gratefully for the few moments they were allowed before another took his place.

My night wore on, but the scene beside me was unfolding in a different manner. The white tiger had since finished with poor Railec, and the position was now occupied by a lithe young cougar who didn't look a day older than I was. The crowd around him had thinned, either having finished with him or deciding to find less popular prey, I couldn't guess.

Only three remained, the two panthers and the cougar. They had managed to force the wolf onto his back, the two black legs lifted high over the cougar's shoulders as he pummeled the boy into the ground with a speed that made me wince in empathy. The large panther, occupying the corresponding position at Railec's muzzle, continued feeding him that pink shaft he had been nursing on for so long now.

The other panther, however, had taken up a position sitting over Railec's chest, pinning him down under his weight. He faced the cougar, but his muzzle and paws were focused on the wolf's sheath in a peculiar way that caught my attention. It was then that I noticed Railec's belly was sticky with seed, which the panther's paws were diligently rubbing in slow, circular motions around the delicate opening to his sheath.

The wolf's paws clamped as the panther's slick thumb pressed further, disappearing from view into, possibly, the most private place I could imagine. I could watch the lump of his thumb slip back and forth under the matted black fuzz of Railec's sheath. I had no concept of what the panther intended, but as he removed the thumb and repeated the process with his forefinger added, I began to form a guess.

Eyes wide with disgust, and perhaps a hint of curiosity, I bobbed along the next shaft that was presented to me, focusing intently on the other boy's situation. The large panther shifted forward, his fingers prying the sheath's entrance open as Railec wriggled in some mixture of pain and pleasure beneath him. His other paw guided the thin tip of his cock toward it, inserting it without ceremony into the small entrance and pushing forward.

I noticed the panther at Ralec's head was carefully holding the boy's jaw open, aware of the instinct to clamp down. The cock progressed deeper, its shaft expanding quickly from the tapered tip and forcing the sheath's entrance to spread around it. A black paw clasped over the length of the sheath, rolling it forward as he slid inside the prone body beneath him.

With a satisfied grunt, the panther leaned his body back to allow the cougar room to thrust again. His paw continued to massage the sheath, now invaded with half of the feline's shaft, as the wolf's body jerked beneath him. The three felines worked their thrusts in a slow rhythm that looked well-practiced.

I'm not sure how long I watched, but I saw it through to the end. The cougar was the first to finish, and I watched him slow his pace as the white cum leaked free of Railec's tail. He held himself inside, propping the wolf up to keep his sheath positioned for the other.

The center panther was next. I could see him hunch forward, in obvious and vocal pleasure, as the visible portion of his buried shaft spasmed. His paw clamped down around the opening of the sheath and he began to withdraw himself, slowly, even as the length twitched from his climax. By the time he popped free, the tip was merely dribbling the remainder of his seed and his two fingers pinched the sheath closed, preventing more of the stuff from drooling its way back out.

The sheath lay between Raliec's legs, plump and heavy with feline fluids as his upturned muzzle was raped by the final panther. When he finished, he drove himself deep against the boy's lips, so far that I couldn't see much of what occurred. All I saw was the rhythmic movement of the wolf's throat as he swallowed it down.

Would that they were done with him, but they had one last game to play. If you were not yet convinced of their cruelty or their sick sense of humor, then listen carefully. They didn't allow him to crawl back to the others, like I did. At least, not right away. They forced him to stand and walk, his sheath still a container for the panther's seed. They paraded him around by the scruff of the neck, pointing out their handiwork to their friends.

When they were satisfied that enough were watching, they forced him back to the ground and sat him down, his legs pulled apart. I could see the pain in his eyes as his weight descended on his used rear. The cougar held Railec, between the ears, and slowly guided him lower. Exploiting our inherent flexibility, he directed the wolf's muzzle down until his nose nuzzled against the raw entrance to his sheath, still slick and undoubtedly stinking of feline.

We all watched, though we wanted to look away. But the felines were watching, and there was a strange sense of wonder among us. Would he really do it? "Lacen tu." The two panthers ordered, repeating the command in turn. Railec whined up at them, though the idea was clear. As one raised a paw to strike him, he complied.

Lifting one of his legs up, toward his chest, Railec's tongue extended and dipped inside of his sheath, scooping up the remains of seed and pulling it back into his muzzle. The amusement this brought the felines was universal, as they gathered around to watch and goad in their unintelligible language. Even after it was clear that he had licked up all that he could, they held him down and kept him going.

I lost interest in the game, a feeling of guilt forcing me to curl among the others and close my eyes. I didn't feel guilty because of what was happening to him. I didn't even feel guilty because I had done nothing to help. I felt guilty because, as I watched, I was thinking about how I would love our situation to have been reversed, to have forced one of those barbarians to do the same thing.

As I drifted into sleep, my naked body wet with the evidence of my use, I realized that my guilt ran deeper. I didn't care if it was a feline or a canine in Railec's position. I just wanted to be one of the one's laughing, instead of one of the one's crying.