Princess Esfir Pt. 3
WARNING: This story, like all the others in the series, has the underage protagonist being raped and generally having a really bad time.
Esfir had been returned to her room while the Lord Sovereign attended to business. The tiger had entrusted her to a pair of soldiers, both of whom seemed gently amused by her plight. Though she'd feared the very worst once they pushed her through the doorway to her chambers, they'd simply shut the door and vanished, though she could hear them chatting casually by her door, standing guard.
Her room had been searched, Esfir could tell. The people who'd done it hadn't broken anything, but they'd chained the door to the balcony shut and left the books on her shelves disordered and untidy.
The little wolf took a step forward, then slumped slowly to her knees, muscles refusing to obey her any longer. The contrast between the safe, comfortable familiarity of her room and the unadulterated horror of her situation was simply too much.
There was a mirror in her room, mounted upon the wall closest to the foot of her bed, right next to the door to her closet. At night she covered it with a sheet, but the sheet had been removed and lay puddled at the base of the mirror's ebony frame. Esfir could see herself in the very corner of the glass, naked and trembling, the fur on her face matted with cum and tears.
How had it all come to this?
She knew the events, they'd been burned indelibly into her memory, but the swiftness of the escalation was...
No. She couldn't bear to think about it.
Her eyes dropped down to the blue carpet she was kneeling on the edge of. She focused on the color, the pleasant feel of the material under her. Stroking a pair of fingers through it, Esfir took a deep breath. Exhaled.
She was being left alone for the moment...while the Lord Sovereign was busy. She was in her room, confined but mercifully alone. There were guards just outside her door, and their very presence felt like a sword of Damocles hanging over her head. Perhaps they'd been instructed to wait a bit before storming in...to lull her into a sense of false security.
But though Esfir waited, ears perked, body shivering, the guards stayed put. Maybe they really were just there to keep watch over her quarters...and besides, even if they really were going to come in and do terrible things to her, what good was sitting and trembling going to do? She'd done that in the dungeon and...
The Lord Sovereign had called her a coward.
Esfir continued taking deep breaths until the shakes had subsided somewhat, then slowly pushed herself back upright. Her legs were rubbery and unstable under her, but her body hadn't been physically hurt. Yet. She was still free of pain, physically if not emotionally. Sure her jaw was sore and the taste in the back of her mouth was-
Once more she had to stop herself. She was fine, she told herself, she'd been allowed a moment of respite and was going to take it. She had to get cleaned up and find herself some clothes so she could get to feeling like a person again.
Once more she found her eyes drawn to the mirror. The streaks of dried cum in her fur. She brought up a paw but couldn't bring herself to touch it, like her face had been splashed by acid and she'd only be burning another part of her if she tried.
The Lord Sovereign had told her to keep it on, but...
Would he punish her if she washed it off? Esfir supposed he probably would, but then again...wouldn't he punish her anyway? Just for existing?
She moved into the adjoining bathroom and filled the basin, copper pipes rattling and spitting. The water was hot, just short of scalding, but Esfir made no attempt to moderate the temperature, she almost wanted the whole thing to hurt, just to prove she still had some control left.
She scrubbed her face first, lifting all evidence of her shame and violation from her fur. Almost went to wash between her legs but of course there was no physical legacy of her abuse left there right now, even if it felt like it.
With the fur on her face damp and spiky, her eyes watering from the soap she'd used, she rinsed her mouth as thoroughly as she could. Brushed her teeth until her gums hurt and she spat traces of crimson down the drain. Her toiletries had all been left alone, right on down to the little scissors she used to trim her claws.
They weren't much of a weapon, their blades weren't more than an inch long, but...
Esfir turned and padded cautiously out from her bathroom, listening carefully to make sure the guards in the outside hallway were still unmoving, then went to her nightstand and opened the top drawer.
There, still in its soft leather sheath, was the little silver ceremonial dagger her father had given her for her last birthday. Esfir blinked. Reached slowly out and picked it up, withdrawing the weapon from its sheath. The blade was perhaps six inches long, needle sharp and flawless. It almost seemed to give off a soft glow, like the light of a full moon.
Why had they left this? It was clearly dangerous, clearly something she could use to kill a person...why had the Lord Sovereign decided to not take it and anything that could possibly be used against either himself or his subordinates? She couldn't think of any logical reason, though...
He'd called her a coward. Like he'd wanted her to resist. But why? Wouldn't resistance be exactly the opposite of what the Lord Sovereign would want from a person like her?
Was he baiting her into fighting back so he'd have an excuse to punish her even more severely?
That was the only conclusion Esfir could come to. Still, she sheathed the dagger and laid it atop her bedspread. She felt better having it close.
Esfir stepped into her closet. It was a big place, lit electrically and filled with every variant of formal ware. There was a gown she'd worn to officiate the last New Year's ceremony, up in the very north of the kingdom, where it was mild and sunny and the entire royal entourage had toured through a great many olive orchards. Over there was her riding outfit, white pants and a carefully tailored blue riding coat. Each garment she looked at seemed to bring up whole slews of memories, all tinted with melancholic hopelessness.
Again, Esfir turned her gaze to the ground and took deep breaths until it passed. She was going to get dressed, she was going to hold her dagger close, and she was going to stay calm.
That was feasible, she told herself. She could do that.
In the end Esfir put on a white linen dress, something nondescript that she couldn't remember wearing before. It was floor length and that felt appropriate, she didn't feel like exposing even a single inch of herself. Tightening a sash around her waist, Esfir stepped back in front of the mirror. Blinked hard at just how terrified she still looked. The shakes were beginning to return in force.
The little wolf in the mirror was trembling, shoulders slumped and ears pinned back. Even though her fur was fluffed out, it didn't do much to make her look bigger or more threatening.
Esfir looked away. Picked up the sheet and shuffled it back over top of the mirror, so she couldn't see herself anymore. That felt better.
With that done, she retreated to her bed and clambered atop it. Thought about getting under the blankets and curling into a ball, but the thought of just how limited her mobility would be if the guards decided to come in paralyzed her with fear.
After a few moments of frightened deliberation, Esfir crawled amidst the down pillows and curled up tight, half on her side, her back pressed against the bed's padded headboard. She clutched a pillow tight to her chest, like a security blanket, silver dagger held tight in one paw.
She felt marginally safer like this, though a part of her knew all too well that the only thing between her and the guards was a few inches of goose down and linen.
...And the dagger. But she...they'd take it away if she tried to use it, she knew that somehow. The Lord Sovereign would mock her for even trying to resist, then he'd do something that would make even the rest of his depredations look pale and immaterial.
Esfir didn't know just what that something was, but she knew it existed, in the same way a devout person might know of a god's hidden but ever threatened wrath. The Lord Sovereign had ordered her to be raped and beaten without a second thought, and none of the people she'd seen in the palace had even blinked at the sight of her being shepherded along, naked and in tears. The thought of what might actually frighten or disgust people like this was...it was beyond her.
Esfir held tight to the grip of her dagger, until her fingers went numb and her paw hurt. She kept her eyes on the door, trying hard to blink away the fatigue that pooled behind her eyelids, dragging them inexorably down, like the weights in a water clock. But try as she might, Esfir couldn't discount the simple fact that her body was exhausted. The traumas of the day were beginning to take their full toll upon her and...
She was dozing almost before she realized it, cheek pressing more fully against the pillow she was resting against, grip on her dagger relaxing slightly, ears flopping from their perked position.
Her thoughts unspooled into more abstract, unfinished representations, her father, the ceremony, the dimness of the dungeon...pain...pain...
Esfir jerked awake, kicking the pillows off of her. For a moment they refused to go, seemed to grab at her like groping paws, then she flopped free, silver dagger flying from her grip, dropping to the carpet. She just barely bit back a frightened yelp, clasping her paws over her mouth, panicked tears boiling at the corners of her eyes.
No.
No...
It had been a dream, it was fine, it-
Her eyes fell upon the silver dagger, half out of its soft leather sheath, lying on the carpet halfway across the room. Moved to the steel chain holding the doors to the balcony shut.
Oh no.
Once more, Esfir found herself trembling so badly she could hardly move, the terrible weight of her situation pressing down upon her once more, pinning her to the bed. She drew her knees to her chest and rolled onto her front, face pressed against her bedspread. Slowly, the little wolf let a despairing whimper out from deep, deep within her. If she did any more, she realized, if she let even a fraction of the terror and pain and humiliation bottled up within her escape, she'd never get herself under control again, she'd simply start screaming and never stop.
And suddenly the door to her chambers was opening, the guards stepping in without even the faintest trace of hesitation. For a moment Esfir almost didn't recognize what was happening. After what felt like an eternity of dreading this very thing, the actual occurrence felt strange and almost unexpected.
Then fresh panic hit and she jolted up into a proper sitting position, scrambling back against the headboard of the bed, remembering only a moment too late that her dagger was...
Oh no.
The lead guard, a red furred fox, stopped just short of the silver dagger. Picked it up and examined it with mild curiosity.
"Shouldn't leave these lying around." He chided, then flicked the dagger, sheath and all, off into the bathroom. Esfir heard it hit the side of the copper basin with a resonant boong and felt the bottom of her stomach drop out as she clasped her knees to her chest.
There was her weapon, gone. All she had now was her claws and teeth, and though those were decent tools in their own right, she didn't know if she could even bring them to bear, she was shaking so badly.
"The Lord Sovereign requests your presence at supper," the second guard, a sandy furred dog said, voice formal and polite, "it's recommended you accept."
The way they spoke shook Esfir. So polite. Like she even had a choice in the matter. Still, neither of the guards were advancing any closer. The fox still stood on the carpet, perhaps fifteen feet away, right about where he'd found her dagger, and the dog's body language remained relaxed, his paws tucked behind his back.
Slowly, Esfir managed to nod. It was the safe thing to do. Perhaps there would be other people at the Lord Sovereign's supper. Perhaps he just wanted to show her off. Perhaps there wouldn't be anything terrible involved...
"Good," the fox smirked, "now come on." He crooked one finger and beckoned her forward.
Esfir really didn't like that smirk.
"I...I can find my own way." She said, voice faint with barely suppressed terror.
The guards exchanged a look. Esfir tried to run for the bathroom, scrambling off the bed, but the dog was faster, intercepting, one paw grabbing the back of her dress. He tugged her down, fabric tearing, and Esfir hit the ground hard, the air leaving her in one big agonized exhalation, her vision flashing white for an instant.
She tried to squirm free, kicking impotently at the dog, but he forced her legs down and found her throat with one paw, squeezing until Esfir gagged and thrashed, meaningful resistance dissolving into panicked spasms.
Esfir lay there, on her back, dazed and gasping for air, throat feeling half compacted. Groped at her bruised neck with both paws as the dog flipped her over onto her face, the fox seeming to materialize at her front.
"Hurry up," the fox urged, pressing his knee against the side of Esfir's head, the little wolf whimpering as she was pinned to the floor, "we don't have all day."
"Fuck's sake, I know." The dog grumbled, shuffling his pants down. Esfir felt the press of something hot and thick against her rear before the dog forced her dress up and ripped her panties aside. She tried to wriggle away, to kick or claw, but the dog hardly seemed to notice, grabbing hold of her tiny hips with both paws and driving the tip of his pointed cock into Esfir's pussy with a single hard thrust.
Esfir spasmed. Was suddenly aware of the fox undoing his own pants above where he'd pinned her head down, stroking his own knotted cock into hardness. But that awareness was dim compared to the incandescent, overwhelming pain of the dog's thick cock tearing her little hole open. The dog was big, like the wolf had been, and he clearly didn't care anything about her comfort or well being, thrusting in right up to the swell of his knot with each thrust, grunting as he rocked the little wolf in place.
Still, Esfir didn't scream. Didn't think she could get the air into her lungs to manage, not when it kept leaking back out in the forms of whimpers and high pitched little yelps each time the dog hurt her.
Above her, the fox's hips jerked slightly and a splash of hot pre landed on Esfir's muzzle, the fox still stroking away at his own member. The dog blew out a breath.
"Just fuck her mouth." He said, huffing for breath, his thrusts beginning to shorten, pre splashing inside of Esfir, setting her violated insides alight.
"No way," the fox protested, "she'd bite."
The dog didn't seem convinced, but said nothing in reply. Instead his grip tightened on Esfir's hips and he ground viciously into her, cock throbbing, spitting hot jets of cum into the little wolf's abused hole.
The fox was on her almost the instant the dog withdrew, leaving her front half alone and instead positioning himself behind her. Once more, Esfir tried to squirm away, but she was simply too hurt to make a decent go of it, even without her head being pinned. She reached out in front of her and grabbed hold of one of the legs of her bed, but the fox hardly seemed to notice as he hilted himself into her, using his weight to push her fully to the ground.
Esfir's chin hit carpet and she wheezed, the breath forced from her as the fox humped happily away. He was smaller than the dog and could fit most of his knot into her, albeit not without some effort. The little wolf's claws scored the wood of the bedpost she held onto, tears streaming down her face as the fox savaged her, stinging pain lancing between her legs with each thrust he made.
After what felt like an eternity, the fox shoved hard into her, Esfir's hole giving way, admitting his knot, the fox gasping into her ear as he came, flooding her for the second time.
"Fuck..." He gasped, and simply lay still for a long moment, pinning her to the floor, enjoying the tiny, terrified motions of her body under his. Then, behind them both, the dog cleared his throat, tapping one paw.
Reluctantly, the fox picked himself up, tugging his knot free with a jerk, provoking a silent spasm from Esfir, who jerked in place, pain rolling through her body in huge, uncontrollable waves. Cum drooled from between her legs, puddling on the carpet.
"So who's gonna..." The fox began, but received only a pointed look from his comrade.
"It was your idea." The dog said.
The fox blew out a breath but didn't argue, flipping Esfir onto her back and kneeling down on top of her. She tried to pry his paws away from her throat but the fox was simply too strong. He squeezed hard, crumpling her windpipe, and Esfir thusly expired.
When she jerked back to life what felt like an instant later, clutching at her throat and recoiling into the nearest corner as the fox picked himself back up, curling his lip at the decidedly unnatural occurrence he'd brought about, Esfir saw that the dog had disappeared into her closet.
He exited a moment later, holding her riding outfit.
"You're wearing these." He said, and tossed the garments onto Esfir's bed.
The little wolf knew better than to argue, and indeed the guards provided her no opportunity to, heading casually back outside of the room and leaving her alone to change.
For a moment Esfir thought of going to the bathroom and retrieving her dagger, but the consequences of stabbing a guard, even if it would feel good in the moment, were such that she had to stare down at the carpet (avoiding the wet patch where the guards' cum had leaked from her) and take deep breaths until the panic was at bay once more.
In the end Esfir stripped out of her soiled white dress and got into the riding outfit. It felt exposed...the pants were tight and form fitting, the coat designed to hold her upright. It was ceremonial in every sense of the word, not really meant for function at all.
Blinking back tears, Esfir stepped towards the door and let the guards escort her to supper, trembling the whole way there, doing her best to hold back whimpers each time the fox's paw dropped down to squeeze her firm little rear.
When they finally arrived in the royal dining room, a small, intimate little chamber with a six person table and dark wood paneling on the walls, Esfir actually felt a distinct sense of relief, if only to be away from the guards. She stepped in, what delicate shreds of relief she felt abruptly freezing as she caught sight of the Lord Sovereign.
The tiger was sitting in her father's chair, virtually unchanged from how he'd been when she'd last seen him. He still wore the dark uniform and seemed to be looking over a few papers. One golden eye slid momentarily over to Esfir, then to the guards behind her.
Esfir glanced back. Noticed suddenly that the two men there were kneeling, gazes averted from the Lord Sovereign. Esfir blinked, shifting in place for a frightened moment, then did the same. It only added fresh pain on top of everything else that had happened, but she simply couldn't bear the thought of anything else happening to her...it was just too much.
After a moment the Lord Sovereign cleared his throat. Set down the paper he was reading.
"Rise." He ordered.
The guards did so and Esfir slowly managed to get herself upright, though her legs were trembling once more. The Lord Sovereign looked at her more fully, a critical sort of gaze that turned Esfir's blood to ice in her veins. Then, mercifully, it turned to the guards.
"Don't fuck her unless I give you permission to." He said. There was no special malice in his voice but the effect on the guards was dramatic. The fox's fur puffed up with fright and the dog's tail went between his legs. They both seemed to lose a few inches of height as they cringed down.
"I apologize, sir." The dog said, the fox echoing him a half second later, sounding all the more nervous for being the last to verbally prostrate himself before the Lord Sovereign.
The Lord Sovereign regarded them for a moment.
"Leave us." He said at last and the guards retreated with a distinct sense of relief, like criminals who had just dodged the hangman. The fox shut the door as he went, and suddenly Esfir was alone with the Lord Sovereign.
She made to sit on the opposite side of the table, as far from the Lord Sovereign as she could get, but the tiger shook his head slightly, tapping his own lap with one finger.
Esfir took a deep breath, then reluctantly obeyed, heart thudding in her chest, breath coming in jagged, uneven gulps. Though she knew there was no physical damage left on her from the guards' assault, she still couldn't help but walk delicately, like she might disrupt some hurt between her legs if she moved carelessly.
"Again..." the Lord Sovereign said, lifting Esfir onto his lap with effortless ease, settling her firmly in place, showing her exactly where she was to sit, "I'm beginning to think that you like this. Is this whole turn of events a dream come true for you, Princess?" As he spoke, the tiger turned the papers he'd been reading face down, so Esfir couldn't see them.
She wondered what they might be. Execution warrants? Orders from his military subordinates? Esfir decided she couldn't guess and let her gaze drift down, to the gold trimmed porcelain plate and soup bowl in front of her, and the silverware flanking the dishes. Forks, spoons and...a silver meat knife, wickedly sharp, perhaps five inches long. More than enough to...
Esfir blinked. Took a deep breath. She wasn't going to rise to the Lord Sovereign's taunts. But the Lord Sovereign had to have noticed the way she shifted in place. He straightened slightly up underneath her, the firm bulge of his sheath pressing against her rear. He'd placed her very deliberately.
"I suppose you'll enjoy some thoughts I was having, concerning your future," the Lord Sovereign continued, settling his paws casually atop Esfir's thighs, keeping her from pressing them shut, fingers creeping ever closer to her groin, "...which came to me during a financial meeting. This kingdom is in debt, Princess, it owes gold to many foreign banks and creditors. While discussing solutions, it occurred to me that perhaps you could be of use. If you wish to be of service to your kingdom, Princess, then I could place you out in the public square of every town and village and city in this country and list a cost. Ten pennies to hump the Princess Esfir, with instructions for you to be strangled every half hour, or whenever you become dispirited and messy. You'd levy enough money to earn the kingdom a surplus, all without a single new tax."
Esfir cringed down, paws balled into little fists, eyes focused on the edge of the table ahead of her. The Lord Sovereign wasn't being serious, she told herself, he'd never actually turn her over to...
But the more she thought, the less convincing that reflexive denial became. The Lord Sovereign didn't seem to mind turning her over to other people, so long as she looked brand new when he got to her again. He'd already ordered three soldiers to violate her, and tolerated another two doing the same...how was offering her up to the ultimate humiliation any different?
Still, she said nothing. Simply couldn't think of any way to avoid this, any way to fix the whole fucked up situation.
"A pity your mother is already dead," the Lord Sovereign added, no sympathy whatsoever in his voice, "she'd have been a fine addition. Perhaps even your father, there are some people-"
The Lord Sovereign's words seemed to do something to the fog of panic welling up within her. His mention of her mother and father in reference to his evil plan cut through the terror, like he'd just dropped a lit match into a pool of kerosene.
Esfir, before she could stop herself, before she was even consciously aware of what she was doing, snatched up the meat knife, twisted around on the Lord Sovereign's lap and jammed the blade into the tiger's throat.
The Lord Sovereign jolted, standing straight up, paws rising to his neck, throwing Esfir off of him. The little wolf bounced off the side of the table and hit the ground hard, stars flashing before her vision, one cheek gone suddenly numb. She managed to sit up, scooting back into the corner closest to the dining room door.
In front of her, the Lord Sovereign staggered back a step, crimson jetting from his torn neck, the meat knife sticking from his throat at an angle, fur sodden with blood. His uniform had gone a shade darker, clinging to him. His eyes found Esfir and he blinked hard, visibly surprised.
Then he fell into the corner and slumped, eyes dimming.
Esfir realized that everything had gone very silent. She took a deep breath, one paw traveling to her cheek, which was beginning to sting. She could feel blood dripping down her face, supposed that the Lord Sovereign had caught her with his claws while trying to knock the knife away.
But she'd gotten him, she'd killed the-
In the opposite corner, the Lord Sovereign sat suddenly up, fur clean and neck unmarred, the meat knife clattering to the marble, blade slimed with blood. He reached one paw reflexively up to his throat, then let out a long, slow breath.
Esfir realized she couldn't breathe. The panic had come roaring back and she was completely paralyzed.
In front of her, the Lord Sovereign stood up, leaving the knife where it lay.
"So now you see." He said, and began to advance on her.