Strength in Will and Rage
(As usual don't read this if you're under 18. Feere is © me)
Wrapped in a snow covered, cloak the now white figure trudged up the mountain, the crunching of the snow inaudilble over the howling wind of the ongoing blizzard around him. It was beginning to get dark, and his blood temperature was dropping fast. He began to walk around in circles to keep himself moving and look for a cave or some kind of shelter. He spotted what looked like a round wooden door on the mountainside. Using his last bit of willpower and fought against the winds towards the door.
When he finaly got there, he put his scaled hand on the knob and turned it and pulled out. He cursed at the snow at the foot of the door and fell on his knees to scoop it away. He hurried before the blizzard replenished the frozen water droplets and put his hand once again on the knob while on his knees, the cold taking a toll on his metabolism. He pulled it outward and rejoiced as the door swung open and fell on his stomach feeling victorious. He scrambled up to his knees and closed the door behind him.
The tunnel he now found himself in was dark... but it was warm. He laid there on the ground until he mustered the strength to once again stand up. He walked slowly down the tunnel with his hand trailing slowly on the rocky wall. He saw a orangish light at the end. Overjoyed he quickened his pace, anxious to warm up his semi frozen body parts and get out of the cold snow covered clothes. Soon he found himself in a kitchen area. Pots, pans, spices, and an assortment of other things hung on the walls around the warm fire in the center of the room.
"Ey, whataroo doin' here?" Came a voice from behind him.
He turned around quickly, cursing himself for dropping his guard, and smiled when he saw a homely female dwarf sitting on a rocking chair. He cleared his thoat and replied in an educated, but not snobby voice, "I'm sorry miss. I didn't mean to intrude. I needed to find refuge from the blizzard..."
"Quit ya yappin and get warm."
He swallowed and took off his snow covered cloak, revealing his green scale covered face, chainmail clad chest, and legging covered... well legs. "Where should I leave this...?"
"Jus put it by the fire"
He did so, and took wet boots off as well and placed them by the fire to dry and sat down, holding his hands infront of him finaly feeling the full affect of the heat in his chilled blood. "How long do these storms usualy last?"
"Not very long... who are you anyway? And what's a lizard doin this far north anyway?" she said with a hint of racism, which he didn't mind much at all.
"I'm sorry, my name's Feere... soldier of fortune at your service.. and I'm meeting a contact in Silvermine... how far is it from here?"
"I don't think that matters very much to you."
He turned "And why no...." and was clubbed over the head and fell with a thud.
He slowly awoken. His head felt like it was being fried from the inside. He tried to move but found he couldn't. The familiar weight of his armor, and twin swords was gone. He couldn't move his arms or legs, and his tail was bound over his back. He opened his eyes and found was facing a rock wall. He tried to struggle again. He was laying on his face on some kind of wood, his arms were tied behind his back, his knees were tied together, underneath him and bent his ass was in the air, and tail lifted. The tip of his tail was attatched to a heavy iron collar around his neck, and lastly, a wooden block was shoved crudely in his mouth. For the first time in his life he felt truly exposed.
He heard some people talking... one he recognized as that bitch that he assumed put him in this position, and a male... He cringed in fear, but that was replaced by anger. He started to shake violently, shaking and rocking the table. He suddenly stopped in pain when he felt something slam hard against his asscheeks. Whoever it was laughed and said something in a language he couldn't understand. His threats to feed on his assailant's entrails went unheard as his voice was muffled. His ass was lit afire again and quickly shut up.
He heard footsteps behind him, and then, unceremoniously the man behind him stuck a hot branding iron to his ass. His eyes opened widely and tears welled in his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, screamed in pain as his ass lit afire. Worse thing was was that he couldn't move to sink his claws into the bastard's neck. He felt the hot thing burn through his scales as it imprinted whatever symbol or message permanently into the skin underneath.
The hot iron was lifted and the man left him to lay there and cry. He was kept there for days, fed a watery gruel. The only thing good about it was that it was warm. Then one day while he was sleeping, he awoke to a sharp pain in his ass. He awoke and instinctualy squeezed his cheeks to repel the invader. But it was to no avail. Slowly but surely, the man sunk his whole cock in his ass. He didn't know how long it was, all he knew was that. His ass was spread wider than thought possible. He couldn't take it anymore. He cried like a hatchling. The man withdrew, and slammed home again, stretching the sphinter to its limits. Over and over he was subjected to this torture. And over and over he either had cum covering his back, or shot into his bowels.
Just when he thought his ordeal was over, he felt a hand slowly caress his thighs and grab his flacid cock. He jumped as the man behind him slowly jerked him off, his cock slowly rising. He began to cry again in sheer frustration as he was violated once again. The hand slowly ran up and down his reptillian penis, then painstakingly slowly quickened the pace. Even bound and angrier than the souls residing in the Nine Hells, he still had a brain. Instead of trying to fight his forced pleasure he thought of every arousing thought he could muster to make the humiliation pass faster.
Soon he was reduced to nothing but a quivering wreck and he was left alone once more for an unmeasurable amount of time. For weeks he was subjected to continually degrading sexual acts that he learned to love and even forced himself to love, but most importantly: he kept his sanity. One day when his owners had found that he was significantly cowed, he was allowed to stand without being fully restrained, which was their ultimate mistake. The moment the male dwarf allowed him to stand and take stock of his surroundings he set to the task of strangling the dwarf with his iron cuffs. The same was done to the stocky female, but neither were killed. As awkward as he could be, he restrained his two captors and set about the task of painstakingly freeing himself from his restraints without the keys.
After long last he was free. The moment he had long lived for. With a dark chuckle he picked up the branding iron that had been used on his ass and seared every inch of their skin with the glowing metal rod. Each time he held it to them until it turned black again and the skin it had touched was significantly blackened. With their bodies now suitably charred, their skin was slowly scraped away with a knife. He was in no hurry. His brand of justice was not swift. He fed them, watered them, he did everything to keep them alive for the next second of sickly sweet retribution.
When they died it was no easy death. They ultimatly died from shock, although before they both died he managed to slive off the female's breasts and stuff the male's own cock and balls into his own newly toothless mouth. Gathering up his gear and new supplies he walked back down the now snowless mountain in his cloak to the warm desert sands from whence he had came. It wasn't his style to keep an employer waiting, but after all that had happened he could say nothing that could repair is reputation. Across the desert sands and by boat to his native forests he would once again be in his castle where he could indulge himself in a captive female.