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Unnamed Mousie - Part 1: The Longest Day - Chapter 1: Imprisoned

© 2015 - 2018 Nameless

Notice: I started writing this story a few years ago and will most likely not finish it. But since I have the first two parts finished (14 chapters) I thought that I might as well brush those up a little and post them. All the following chapters will be posted under the Content Level "Extreme" since they contain enslavement, rape, torture and disgusting (sexual) acts, even if some chapters might not strictly need the "Extreme" content level. Some of the chapters are a little short as I wanted to put the chapter breaks at natural break points in the story.

Chapter 1: Imprisoned

When I woke up, my head was pounding. It felt as if a member of the heavy foot was hitting my head with his mace. Again and again and as hard as he could swing it. And my mouth tasted as if some small rodent had crawled in there to die and had died in there a while ago. As I lay there, panting and whimpering in distress, the pain receded slowly, ever so slowly. And as the pounding diminished little by little I became conscious of my surroundings. When I finally opened my eyes carefully I found that this didn't change much of anything. I lay in the dark, almost complete dark. At first I was glad of this, with the headache I had any light would have only made the pain worse. The next thing I noticed was that I lay on a hard wooden floor. There was nothing really strange about that, my troop had been in the field for more than a week and we would sleep on any available surface that was anywhere close to horizontal and hopefully dry whenever we got the chance. But then I realized that I was naked, I wore no clothes and my blanket wasn't there either. The air was cool but stuffy and I shivered slightly from the cold. My first thought was, 'Wow, this must have been some kind of party.' But then my thoughts cleared a little more and I realized that there would not have been a party. A sudden shiver of terror ran down my spine as I remembered what had happened yesterday and my current circumstances took on a much more sinister air.

I hail from the city of Arno, in the county of the same name. While females are rarely big and strong enough to enlist as front line fighters, we are often quick, nimble and enduring and thus accepted for auxiliary duties such as archers or scouts. To escape a life of poverty on the streets I had enlisted as soon as I was old enough and had joined the light slingers about a year ago. Not a prestigious troop by any reckoning, rather the opposite, but a huge step up from the streets. The training had been rough, even brutal at times, particularly for a petite mouse femme like myself. But all in all the year in the army had been the happiest in my life for a long time. About two weeks ago my troop had left the city of Arno, as part of a larger army, to turn back an invading army of Hessans. After a week of marching we met them in a partially wooded valley. Between the uneven ground and the vegetation, light woodlands interspersed with clearings and thicker clumps of trees, neither army could form a proper battle-line but the battle was joined anyway. My troop formed up on a small hill and after a while we began lobbing stones at an advancing troop of Hessan spearmen. After that the battle became pure chaos. Suddenly Hessan cavalry charged out of the woods and up the hill, directly at us. The spearmen that were supposed to protect us had arrayed themselves against the advancing footmen and were ill-positioned to defend against the cavalry charging at us from the flank. We managed to get off one salvo against the horsemen, but while we felled a few, it did little to stop the charge. And then we did what most any lightly armed troop (apart from my sling I carried only a long dagger and my armor consisted of a padded vest and a leather helmet) trained for ranged combat would do in this situation: We broke and ran, scattering as we did so. I didn't get very far. The pounding of hooves was already terrifyingly close behind me, when I suddenly found another troop of Hessans before me, spears leveled. And in the second row I spied crossbows, raised and leveled. I skidded to a stop and almost without thinking yanked the dagger from my belt and threw it away and then I fell to my knees and cowered, praying for my life. A horse thundered past me, almost crushing my left foot under a hoof and then I waited. Soon an unpleasant and terrifying stench filled my nostrils, the stench of death. Not all of my mates had been quick enough in their surrender, some had been shot and a few had just kept running and been impaled on a spear. Some lay blessedly still while others groaned in pain, badly and often mortally wounded. After a while it seemed that the Hessans had the battle under control, or at least in the area I was in, and had time to take us prisoners. About half of the troop that had stopped me and my mates had marched off some time before. The rest broke into little groups to take us prisoner. Crossbowmen stayed in the back, ready to shoot anyone trying to flee. A small unit waited under the banner while the rest broke into pairs. Each pair consisted of one swordsman, sword at the ready to cut down anybody who offered resistance while the other one carried lengths of rope. And small sacks. One by one my mates were rounded up. We had to hold our paws up behind the back to be roughly tied with a length of rope. After standing up a sack was put over the head and they were led to where the rest of the troop waited. Anybody who didn't move got a sword shoved into her gut, ensuring, for those not already dead, a slow and agonizing death. All too soon it was my turn. My paws were tied, the rough rope dug painfully into the skin on my wrists and then a sack was pulled over my head. When I was helpless they patted me down, squeezing my breasts painfully and searching for hidden weapons or other items. They removed my belt with the pouches, one with my few personal belongings and the one with extra stones for my sling. I was glad that I had laced my short skirt to my vest so that it stayed in place without the belt. I wasn't completely blinded, the rough sack-cloth let in a little light, but it was difficult to see much and it was very disorienting. I stumbled and almost fell as I was led away. At the main troop we were tied into a coffle. A Hessan reached down between my legs, cropping more than just one feel. When he felt that my underpants were wet he cursed and ripped the panties off. I had been too distracted to notice it before, but apparently I had lost control of my bladder at some point during the terrifying flight. He pulled the end of the rope that tied up my paws forward between my legs, jerking it needlessly hard and making it dig painfully into my slit. Then he tied the rope to the paws of the fur in front of me. A few moments later I felt another rope being tied to my own paws. After a while they had apparently rounded up everybody they could get (or wanted). A harsh voice thick with a Hessan accent forbade us to speak and warned that anybody who disobeyed would be punished and that anyone who tried to resist or run away would be cut down and left for the crows. Then the coffle began to move. I have no idea how many Hessans stood guard over us as we were led away, but I was so cowed I didn't even think of trying to escape. We walked for a long time, stumbling and moving rather slowly, though still much too fast for my comfort. The march was very unpleasant. I stubbed my toes on unseen stones again and again and barely managed to stay upright. More than once one of my mates stumbled, sometimes pulling several more of us off their feet, or perhaps even the whole coffle down with her. By the time we finally reached the Hessan camp my crotch was on fire. The short rope connecting me to the prisoner in front of me kept sawing into me as it was continually pulled this way or that with every step. Once in the camp we were taken into a small stockade where we had to kneel while we awaited our fate. Since they had not broken up the coffle, we knelt one behind the other, almost touching the furs in front and behind. As best as I could tell, quite a few other prisoners joined us during the course of our wait. At one point the long wait was interrupted when a male in monk's garments pulled off my hood and held a cup to my lips and helped me drink a little water before he replaced the hood and moved on to the next fur. During the short moment while I was not blindfolded I could see that there were a lot of prisoners in the stockade and that there were several Hessans standing guard. Above the wall made of cut down trees I could even see a few crossbowmen ready to shoot at us. The waiting dragged on and on. My limbs began to cramp, but I didn't dare to make any but the tiniest movements. Slowly, ever so slowly the sun inched across the sky. We received a little water twice more, but no food and by the time the sun touched the top of the stockade wall my stomach was grumbling with hunger. Every now and then I cried silently. The sounds of the camp filtered in and a few times I could hear loud cheering, boding ill our success in the battle. Eventually something happened. A group of soldiers marched in and one of the coffle lines (presumably the one closest to the gate) was told to get up. The sounds of shuffling, curses and more than a few meaty blows and grunts of pain told of the difficulty of standing while tied up and with limbs cramped after kneeling so long. They were led away and the gate banged shut once more. After a long while the second coffle was led away and then it was our turn. As best as I could tell from what little I could see, we were led to the tent of an officer, probably a noble, at least the tent seemed grand enough for one. And then, one by one, we were disconnected from the coffle and led into the tent. Each prisoner was in the tent for perhaps a minute before being led away once more, to heaven knows where. Then it was my turn. Two strong males led me in, holding my arms in a painful grip. Once inside, at the officer's command, my hood was removed. A Wolf in the garb of a Hessan officer, and a high ranking one at that, sat at a small field table. Behind him stood two guards, paws on their swords. They looked ready to cut me down for the tiniest of reasons or no reason at all. Off to one side sat a small human male. He had gray headfur and looked barely taller than I. He wore the clothes of a wealthy trader. But I had little attention to spare for him at the moment. The officer commanded, "Name, rank and unit." I answered as quickly as I could, the words tumbling out of my muzzle. He stared at me for a long moment and then commanded, "Turn this way." pointing to his left, towards the human. With the rough aid of the soldiers holding me I turned to face the human. While humans are well known in the county of Arno, there are not a whole lot of them, and, as far as I know, there are even fewer in Hessa. According to stories there are far off places where there are more humans than furs, even fabled kingdoms populated entirely by humans. And wherever they had found this male, just looking at him made me shiver. His eyes were the slimiest I had ever seen and they seemed to undress me as his gaze traveled up and down my body. He looked at me as if I was a piece of meat or perhaps a horse at the fair. I expected him to stand up and tell me to open my mouth so he could inspect my teeth at any moment. I shrank back a little when his calculating eyes returned to my face, but I didn't dare to look away. After a long moment he gave a tiny nod. The officer commanded, "Take her to group one." The soldiers holding my arms straightened and replied, "Yes, Sir." Then they replaced the sack and dragged me out of the tent. I was led through the camp and to the jacks. One of the guards rolled up my skirt and pushed it under the vest. They removed the hood for a moment, so I could see where I stepped. I had to squat and relieve myself while they watched. And not just the pair of guards but there were many furs around and at least a few looked with interest in my direction. When I was done they replaced the hood and led me away. After a few steps I realized that they had forgotten to pull down the skirt after I was done with my business, so that now everybody who looked in my direction could see just about everything I had. My muzzle burned with embarrassment but there was nothing I could do. They didn't even slow down when I tried to dig in my feet, they simply dragging me along until I started walking on my own once more. Eventually we ended up at the back of a big caravan wagon. They opened the door at the end. One of them climbed up and entered the wagon. The other lifted me up, without any apparent effort. The second one grabbed me and lifted me inside. He didn't even bother to put me down, he just carried me to where he wanted me. He finally set me down and commanded me to kneel, which I did. He grabbed the end of the rope that still bound my paws and tied it to the wall behind me, probably to a ring set into the wall. Then he removed the hood that covered my head. He stood in front of me and he commanded, "Do not move and do not speak. Don't make any noise." Suddenly the grin on his face took on a decidedly sinister air, "Or please do. Then I might get to play with you." I shivered in terror when I saw him playing with the nasty looking knife hanging from his belt. I had a good idea what he would do to me and I was sure that he would enjoy every painful wound that he inflicted on my body. The hatred between Hessans and us (from Arno) is old and it runs deep. He licked his lips in anticipation and commanded, "Look down at the floor in front of you. Now stay still. Slut." With that he left. I had no idea if anybody was watching me, but I didn't dare to take any chance. When my breathing had slowed a little and my heart was no longer pounding in my chest I slowly began noticing the noises around me. I could hear breathing, from several furs, as best as I could tell to the my left and behind me. And I looked around furtively, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Since I'm a mouse my eyes are set further apart and higher than most furs. So even with my nose pointing down I could see quite a bit. To the left and right of me were wooden walls, at most three foot apart. After a bit I decided that I was in a kind of stall. The walls were just deep enough that I could not see who knelt in the next stall. There was enough space between the partitions and the outer wall of the wagon that a fur could comfortably walk there. Set high in the outer wall were several rectangles, probably small windows, more like slits (about two foot wide but no higher than a few inches), but they were closed at the moment. Somewhere behind and above me hung two lanterns (I could tell that much from the shadows they cast). I decided that there was a wall down the center of the wagon, to which my paws were tied, with two sets of stalls, one on either side. I didn't know how many stalls there were, but by my best guess there were six or seven on each side. As I waited I noticed sobs from somewhere behind me, but they were barely audible, the crying female (at least I thought it was a female) was obviously trying but failing to stifle her sobbing. I felt miserable enough to join her but managed to stay quiet. After a while the door opened again and another fur was dragged in and deposited in the stall to my right. I could only see the hooded head for a moment before the dividing wall hid her from my view. The guard, a different one than had delivered me, gave her the same admonitions and the same threatening spiel that I had received, before he left. Three more furs were dragged in and deposited in the stalls on my right side, closer to the door (one on my side, the two others on the opposite side of the wagon) before the wagon was apparently filled. Then I had to wait some more, while the pain in my knees grew and the grumbling of my stomach grew in intensity and my mouth and throat began to hurt from thirst. Finally the door opened once more. This time it was a small female, a rodent of some kind. Since I could not tell for sure what she was, I assumed that she was a mixed breed. She wore a simple smock and a metal collar, marking her as a serf. Or even a slave. The look on her face was one of resigned dejection. She carried a tray with several small bowls, one of which she placed on the floor in front of me before she moved to the next stall. It was filled with some kind of stew, that smelled anything but appetizing. If I had counted the clicks as she set down the bowls down correctly, there were indeed twelve stalls, six on each side. A male voice said, "You may eat." With a cruel laugh he added, "If you're hungry enough." After a moment I decided that he had no intention of untying us and that if I wanted to eat I would have to lean forward and lap up the stew as if I was a common animal. My fur bristled with indignation but what little pride I had was quickly quashed by my hunger. I leaned forward and found that the rope tying my paws was short, very short. To reach the bowl I had to pull at my bound paws painfully hard. The closer my nose got, the worse the stew smelled. And it tasted even worse than it smelled. There were a few small pieces of (probably blessedly) unidentifiable meat and vegetable slices fit more for pig swill than food. Still, one of the first things I had learned as a soldier had been to eat as much as I could whenever food was available because I could never know when I would get more. I lapped up every bit and was still hungry. It had been many hours since my last meal. I had wolfed down a hurried breakfast just before my troop marched, at least a bell before sunrise, and it would have taken at least three bowls of this size to sate me, let alone fill my stomach. While we lapped at the bowls of barely edible food, the guard walked up and down the wagon, watching us and making lewd and derogatory comments about us, obviously enjoying our humiliation. My muzzle burned with shame when I noticed him looking at my bare ass, but I didn't dare to stop eating lest he decided that I didn't want the rest. When all our bowls were empty the serf girl returned, carrying a jug of water. She poured some of it into my bowl. I lapped it up eagerly, even though it had an unpleasant aftertaste. After that things got a little hazy. I barely noticed when the serf girl took the bowl away and I fell asleep soon afterwards.

As I lay alone in the darkness I suddenly realized that the 'water' must have been a sleeping potion of some kind and that they must have had drugged me. And that while I had been drugged they had undressed me and then brought me to whatever hellhole I was currently in. I felt around carefully, mainly because every movement worsened the pounding in my head. After a while I decided that I was in a tiny cell, more like a kennel. It was little more than four foot long, less than three wide and maybe two high. Curled up I fit comfortably, but even a fur as small as I was couldn't even stretch out, let alone sit up. I might have been able to twist myself around to face the other way, but even if I managed it, I would have scratched myself up badly on the walls. The walls were made of rough stone, except for the wall closest to my feet, which seemed to be made of wood. Pressing my feet against it I managed to rattle it a little, but no more than that. I decided that this must be the door, now securely locked from the outside. What little light there was in the cell came in through the cracks between the wooden door and the walls. My unease flared into panic when I noticed the iron collar around my neck. Searching desperately for a way to take it off, I found that it was a smooth and seamless circle of metal, completely featureless apart from a circular disk at the front, only a little wider than the main band. My fingertips could make out markings on the disk, but I could not make out what they said. Then, as my head and my senses slowly cleared I suddenly noticed a faint foreign scent. Further investigation led to my left paw and then to my crotch. Bending forward as far as I could, I tried to make sense of the scent. My muzzle burned in shame as I realized that for the scent there to be that strong somebody had to have touched me down there very extensively. I still had trouble placing the scent but with some relief I decided that it was not the seed of a male. That was a scent I knew quite well. There was a good reason all recruits got a potion inducing temporary infertility every new moon, at least those serving in troops made up of both males and females. There was a reason we referred to fellow recruits as 'mates'. The scent was too strong for it to be simply body scent transferred through normal touching (unless someone had massaged the spot for hours). Once I decided that it wasn't sweat either that left only spit. My muzzle heated up further as I pondered the fact that somebody had licked my most intimate parts while I was unconscious, and must have licked me very extensively for the scent to be that noticeable. There was no time in this accursed place. Try as I might I could not hear anything except the sounds of my own body, my heartbeat, my ragged breaths and the blood rushing in my ears. I have no idea how long I waited for anything to happen. The pounding in my head receded until it was no more than a light headache. But other unpleasant sensations made themselves known: My bladder was painfully full, my mouth was dry, my tongue felt leathery and my stomach was almost painfully empty.