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Anthro Sex Squad Story 2 - Winfred's Story

By Killenor

Arc 1 - Origins

Chapter 4

Oh yes! Thought Hreugh, she would be his this very night!

He had been scaring off every single creature she had attempted to catch for almost three days now. It was all part of his plan, and now his plan was achieving fruition!

A wolverine was much stronger and tougher than a badger, and what held true for the feral creatures followed for the civil. This child, though much younger and weaker than an adult, could seriously injure Hreugh even though he was at least twenty years her senior. Wolverines also got very, very nasty when they were injured, and taking a healthy, strong, and alert one, even a hungry child, was risky business.

For all their power, they possessed one grievous sin that would be the downfall of this child. Wolverines were, to a one, terrible gluttons. They were reputed to gorge themselves until they were practically fit to burst! The feral ones were even said to devour prey, bones and all, eating carrion if nothing else was to be found.

The child's days of hunger, coupled with the pair of deer carcasses he left in her "secret" cave specially for her to find, should see for certain that she would not be going anywhere for a good long time. The trinkets he had stolen from those idiots who once called themselves her kin would certainly direct her to think that she was being watched over. For now, Hreugh could simply relax and wait for his prey to fall asleep.

She would need the rest.

***

Winfred could not remember the last time she had been so full. Her belly was practically bursting with fresh deer meat. Never would she have guessed that she could make it through an entire beast, even given how hungry she had been. Now she began to regret stuffing herself so full.

In her painfully satiated state she felt sluggish and listless. With hunger satisfied, the sleep she had been missing caught up to her and she dozed. Her hand clutched a feathered bird-skull, a piece of art her mother had made for the great male. Somehow it had wound up in her cave, next to the pair of deer. A sigh escaped her lips as she sank into a comforted slumber, feeling for the first time how much her mother had genuinely cared for her.

***

The pain will be exquisite, thought Hreugh to himself as he crept toward the cave. The bouquet of feelings this whelp would feel when the plan came to fruition. Betrayal, suffering, lacerations, hopelessness, the realization that her people abandoned her totally and finally, loss of innocence ... yes, it would be quite something. He would have power for his magic to last for DAYS just from the first hour. It was the old stuff again, REAL torture, he couldn't remember the last time he was able to actually get his claws dirty.

The slumbering body weighed quite more than it appeared to, but Hreugh was strong enough. The weight of a whole deer and a dense-muscled young girl was nothing in the face of his deepest enjoyments. The rack he laid her on was old and worn, the wood varnish peeling, and the surface in dire need of sanding. Black leather straps bore the signs of wear and idleness as surely as the brass buckles covered in verdigris.

"Wake up young one," Hreugh said in his most reassuring tone, "it is time to begin."

Sleep held its grip on young Winfred, her full stomach preserving her coma-like slumber. Try as Hreugh might, he could not rouse her, and knew he could not start inflicting his perfected brand of pain until she was lucid enough to notice. It just wasn't the same.

Hours passed, still Winfred slept. How could these wretched wolverines survive, thought Hreugh, fattening themselves up and sleeping it all away?! No wonder they called gluttony a "deadly" sin.

After all his patience and planning, that he had her in his grasp and she wouldn't wake up ground on his last nerve. As his frustration built he began double-checking his equipment. Knives were carefully sharpened, fine enough to split a hair. His "torture toys" were lovingly cared for; barbs sharp, grating surfaces honed, hollows cleaned, and all oiled with a special substance that would keep them dry but burn flesh horribly.

His eyes fell over the instruments of his trade and memories sparked with him. Once he was the grand royal interrogator, he was without peer for two whole decades. By his fifth year, he was so well known that many a man would break before he even touched them. Dozens of the kings failed subjects, mostly war widows, orphans, cowards, or the infirm (ones that no one would miss anyway), were sent to him every year for him to perfect his art.

And then he had found magic. Combining sex and pain... that had been his opus. It fueled him, allowing ever greater acts of suffering and new wonders that he could only dream of! The king and his court simply turned a blind eye and reaped the reward of their singularly talented torturer.

Then... that blasted woman... a captured "holy hero" she was and though he tried, he could never break her. He remembered the shattered remnants upon his table, still alive in defiance of three months of mutilation and torture. His magic had torn through her mind with hellscapes and horrors to break a thousand men, his tools had rent her body asunder until it was but a ragged torso covered in maddening infections. Pain that would have killed any other person had failed to amount to a single word of information from this damnable bitch of a woman.

For that, he was dismissed!

The king, tyrant that he was, broached no failure from any of his subordinates. Punishments ranged from dismissal to execution... Hreugh was lucky to simply have been run out of town. His reward for twenty years of loyal service.

Luckily, his talents were put to use in the elder trade of which he was familiar, slave-making. Still, it was a hollow existence next to the grand halls of the king's dungeon. No profit came from reducing slaves to gibbering wrecks of existence, breaking men to the yoke lacked the stimulus he so craved.

Then fate decided that even this meager life was not good enough for him.

It was another of those blasted "holy heroes". This time it was a tall creature, some sort of beast-folk of a distant land, huge with gray skin and a great horn upon his nose, incited the masses to rise up and cast out tyranny. As if those pitiful commoners and paupers could have survived without the king's benevolence. But soon the townsfolk overwhelmed Hreugh's band of slavers. Filthy peasants came baying for his blood, forcing him to flee into the forests to await the day when he could return.

Alone for... however long it was... all that was to be done was hone his skills on the beast-folk tribes whenever he could catch one unaware.

And once this little glutton awoke, the spark of his love and hate would reignite into a full blaze once again!

Winfred stirred upon the table, snapping Hreugh from his reverie. At last!

"Well hello strangeling," Hreugh said in an almost mocking tone, "did you sleep well?"

"Wha... wha??" Winfred blinked in confusion as she found her limbs bound to uncomfortable wood.

"No... no, let's save those questions for later. I became plenty tired of all those 'who, what, where'... useless questions in my youth. Let's make this easy. I am Hreugh, I am your torturer, and YOU are here to amuse me. You did nothing to me and I am now the master of your life. I don't care who you are, so let us begin. I have so many interesting things for you to experience."

True fear gripped Winfred's spine in an icy embrace. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to think except "why me". Her shrieks of terror caught in her throat as Hreugh selected a wicked looking knife from his tray and hovered over her.

"Do let me know if you feel any pain, I am always attentive to my subject's needs." chuckled Hreugh in a bit of dark humor. The chuckles quickly became a hysterical, insane string of laughter as he roughly grabbed Winfred's collar. In one deft motion the blade licked out, slicing through cloth. With a rough jerk he denuded his prize.

Winfred felt so embarrassed, strapped immobile to the wooden cross, naked, terrified, with an evil, evil man leering at her most private places. A turn of a crank forced her legs wide as the insidious rack moved with the grinding of ancient brass gears.

"Don't worry," Hreugh said with a veneer of madness as he stepped between her legs, "I'll be gentle."

Screams of terror and violation mixed with the laughter of insane pleasures, with only the bare dirt walls and the uncaring trees bearing witness to the horrors taking place.