FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Unnamed Mousie - Part 1: The Longest Day - Chapter 7: Put to sleep

© 2015 - 2018 Nameless

The first thing I noticed when I came back to my senses was the human paw under my chin, lifting my head up. A moment later my cheek burned with fresh pain as more of the healing salve was rubbed over the wound. My head was lifted higher and a bit of liquid was poured down my throat. It tasted almost like the medicine I had been given after being branded, but stronger. After that my mind cleared quickly, but my emotions were still kind of dead. I hung there for a few more minutes, too weak to move. Strong paws lifted me down and a voice commanded, "Come." Suddenly my muscles worked once more. I obeyed, the idea that I might resist did not even enter my mind. There were only a few Hessans with us, the rest had left. We were assembled into a coffle, with short chains connecting our collars. As I stood there my emotions slowly returned. It was not pleasant. Kind of like having a comforting warm down blanket slowly pulled away in a freezing room. The same must have happened to all the others, I heard sobs and the fur in front of me started to tremble. I felt like crying, but somehow I could not. The drink had cleared my mind and I felt wide awake, but my body was exhausted. They got us moving. My legs felt like lead as I followed the fur in front of me. We went through several gates before we ended up on a small meadow. It was difficult to tell if we were still in the castle or not as it was now fully dark. I could see several caravan wagons, they had lit lamps at the rear. I think we were still in the castle, but in one of the outermost parts. In the middle of the small meadow stood four short posts, each with two lamps, one just above the ground and the other a little higher than hip high. In the middle of the circle of light were the two rodent slaves facing each other, kneeling in the begging position. We stopped, our coffle strung out at an angle so we could all see them clearly. One of the assistants asked, "Who wants to relieve herself?". The other assistant disconnected the first fur from the coffle and untied her paws. She just stood there, uncomprehendingly until the first assistant pointed at his shoes. She dropped to her knees, assumed the begging position and lapped at the shoes. "Get up." The assistant pointed at the circle of bright light. "Cross your paws behind the neck. There is a hole, use it. When you get there, crouch down, facing towards me. When you are done, crouch between the two rats so they can clean you. Go." He sent her off with a slap on the rump. She did as she was told, crouching over the hole to do her business. As I watched my sense of embarrassment slowly returned. When she was done the two rodents cleaned her with their tongues, one licking her front, the other her rear, keeping their bodies low so we could see their tongues in action. Every few furs they change places, so that the one who had cleaned the front now cleaned the rear and vice versa. They processed us quickly, one of us begged, the next did her (or his) business and then third one got cleaned up. Afterwards we wait nearby, standing so that we had to watch. By the time it was my turn my sense of embarrassment seemed no only to have returned but had become stronger than before, my muzzle burned in shame while I did my thing. And not just shame, but also lust, which only worsened the shame. When we were all done the rodents filled the hole with earth and we were led away, towards the wagons.

When we got to the wagons I saw that our master had been watching us from there. I saw several more humans waiting there. Some seemed to be guards (they had curved swords) others servants. We stopped a few paces away. On the rear door of one of the wagons I saw a squiggly symbol that I recognized as the one for 'Aleph'. I shivered as I realized that this would be my new home. One of the servants opened a pot and began to fill bowls from it. The empty hole in my stomach had been all but forgotten, but suddenly it came into focus and got worse quickly as my stomach tried to get me to fill it. Some bowls got only a single ladle, others several, if I didn't miss my count, up to six. The rodents placed the bowls on the ground in a rough circle. Next to each bowl they placed a small tile with some squiggles on it. After a bit I realized that the squiggles indicated for which of us the bowl was meant. One of the assistants spoke up, "I hope you pelts remember your tag. Find it and kneel in front of your bowl, facing towards the center of the circle. Do not pick a wrong bowl. If you do not remember your sigil, wait outside the circle." At his sign we started towards the food. I found my place and was overjoyed to find my bowl almost full. One fur whose bowl was almost empty tried to pick a better one but two of the soldiers came forward and beat him with strange whips (they looked like a riding crop with a piece of leather stuck at the end) until he move to his assigned place. For his trouble half of what little there was in the bowl was pored on the ground. Three of us did not remember their tags, but they waited meekly until one of the assistants explained to them how their tags looked. While he did that the soldiers heated their buttocks with the whips. Some of their food was also poured out, but only a little. As I looked around, I realized that the furs who had preferred not to participate in the 'game' had gotten the least food. Those with marks on their collars had also gotten less, some more than others. Apparently the size and color of the marks indicated the severity of their punishment, the larger and darker the mark, the worse. Our master commanded, "Down in the begging position. Don't start eating until you're told to." The rodent femmes walked around and pushed the bowls to where we could easily get at them and eat in this position. Unfortunately this put my nose just inches away from the food. My stomach went berserk trying to get me to eat. The others were not much better off, my stomach was soon joined by a chorus of rumbles. Our master talked with his assistants. I could hear them clearly, but I could not understand anything as they were talking in their own tongue. Every now and then one of them chuckled or even laughed. When I heard the rustling of paper I realized that they were talking about us and our performance. Suddenly my muzzle began to burn. The rat femmes returned and began to crawl around behind us. Each stopped at one fur and played with her rear end for a while, but I couldn't see what she was doing. Eventually when it was my turn I found out. She spread some of the healing salve over the skin around my tailhole. She worked a finger into the tailhole, spreading more of the salve inside, as far as her finger would reach. It felt good inside me. Then she crouched lower, spread my lower lips and sniffed at my slit before moving on to the next fur. The short contact left me panting and hot and bothered. Finally our master gave us permission to eat and I began lapping up the food. It was a watery gruel. It was likely made from scrapple. Scrapple is the cheapest kind of flour, made with whatever the miller has left over, whatever scraps he has (hence the name). In addition to the usual grains it often contains foodstuffs not usually used for flour such as oats or dried beans or lentils and usually also contains a little Rogmeal. Rog is probably the cheapest grain. It is practically tasteless and mainly used as feed for horses and farm animals. Each batch of scrapple is a little different, depending what the miller has on hand at the moment. Few furs try to make bread with it, but it's usually used for gruel or as a base for stews. It's a staple food for poor furs and soldiers. The gruel was rather thin and watery, but there was a decent amount of it. At least it was easy to lick up. When I was done I was, if not full, at least sated. I pitied the furs who had gotten just one ladle full, just enough to get their juices flowing but not enough to even put a dent in their hunger.

Our master clapped his paws and commanded, "Time for sleep, my little pets. Line up at the entrance to your wagon." After a moment he added, "Good night." The first part was easy, one of the assistants and three guards waited at the entrance to each wagon. I had already seen the sign on the door, others had not, but they figured it out quick enough. At the assistant's direction we formed into a line, facing him. Only then did he inform us that we were to line up in order. That caused a lot of confusion, I knew what my tag looked like and what number it represented, but I had not memorized which furs were to either side of me. While we tried to arrange ourselves in the requested order the three guards swatted at us with their whips. The leather strips (about eight inches long and a little more than one inch wide) hurt, but they stung more than actually hurt much. Unless they The guards concentrated their attention mostly on the butt (which was still very tender) and the breasts. Anybody who tried to cover herself got slapped much harder. Eventually we managed to form up properly. By then I was wide awake. And not just my mind, the stinging slaps had warmed not only my buttocks. The assistant asked, "Who wants a soft bed?" After a moment most I dropped to my knees and assumed the begging position. The others did likewise. I heard a guard deliver a few slaps, but by the sound he didn't use much force. The last slap elicited a strange groan, though. I heard the door of the wagon open and somebody climb in. When the assistant had taken the second submission he said, "No, you don't get a soft bed. They are only for slaves who have been good. You have to work off that mark first." I heard a few groans at the news, but none of them got up, probably a wise choice. Then it was my turn to polish the assistant's shoes with my tongue. One of the guards slapped my ass, once on each cheek. The slaps were more playful than painful. The third slap came up from below, right between my legs. The leather tongue wrapped itself around my crotch, licking my slit. (I later learned that they did indeed refer to these whips as 'tongues' and referred to their use as 'licking'). It didn't hit hard, so I hardly felt the pain but it sent a lightning bolt through my body. My eyes widened and for a moment it felt as if they would pop out of their sockets. The shock had woken up my whole body and suddenly I was hot and aroused and panting hard enough I could hardly continue licking. Had he hit me like this once or twice more, I would have come. But he didn't.

At the assistant's command I got up and staggered to the wagon. I scrambled up the steps of and entered. The wagon was very big. A little more than 3 paces wide and (I calculated that later) almost 10 long. There was a free area almost 4 paces long after which the stalls began. The guard standing off to the side commanded, "Walk to the end, turn around, then find your stall." A servant waiting at the other side called, "Here." and tossed me a bundle. It was a rolled up rag, as I quickly found out this was the 'soft bed' my submission had just earned. "Roll it out and then kneel at the head of your stall." I climbed up the two steps and walked forward. There were two sets of stalls, one on each side. The walls had been turned around so they formed boxes, a little over five foot long, three wide and almost two high. Over the center planks had been laid, forming a kind of walkway about three foot wide. Several of the boxes were already occupied by kneeling furs. Some had spread the rugs, some had only the bare wood to lie on. In some stalls, apparently those belonging to furs with marks on their collar, lay a wooden board, carved to give a rough and uneven surface. I shuddered at the thought of having to lie on that all night. My chest (or back) would look like a piece of meat just off the grill. I walked to the end, turned around and found my stall. The tag was carved into the outer wall at a height of about three foot. Two sets of leather straps with buckles like a belt were connected to the side walls with wooden bars. The other stalls had these as well, though not always in the same position. In the center, about a foot from the outer wall lay a metal disk and next to it a leather hood. I climbed in, rolled out the rug and spread it carefully. When I poked at the metal disk, it didn't budge, so I covered it with the rag. I did pick up the hood and laid it on top of the rag then I knelt with my back touching the outer wall. The rag was thin and made of very rough fabric. It wouldn't do much to make the 'bed' softer, but it was better than the bare wood. I waited while the other slaves filed in one by one and took their places. The two other guards and the assistant followed. One of the guards walked to the forward end of the walkway while the assistant climbed up but stayed at the bottom end. He started to speak, "I am now going to tell you how to prepare for sleep. Remember it well, in the future you will be expected to do it on your own. First you put the hood over your head. Don't pull it down yet, leave your eyes free for the moment. The straps are marked. Here are the signs, remember them: He held up a wooden board with four squiggly signs on it. This sign means 'legs', these straps are for your ankles. The second sign means 'arms', use these for your wrists. These two signs are for 'left' and 'right'. He repeated the instructions. The straps will be in different positions, it's up to you to decide how to arrange your body to fit into them. Sometimes instead of being connected to the stall, you will find a strap for tying your limbs together. If it's marked 'legs' for example, then you use it to tie your ankles together. If it's marked 'left' you use it to tie your left wrist to your left ankle. Finally you will have seen the metal disk. Touch your collar to it and it will stick. That works through the bedding." "In which order you strap yourself in is up to you. Usually the best way is to strap in your legs first. Always pull the straps as tight as you can. Form the straps for your wrists into a loose loop. Pull down the hood and cinch the strap under your muzzle. Strap in one arm. Grab the wooden bar or the leather for your second arm and lie down and touch your collar to the metal disk. Someone will come and check on you and strap in the other arm." I considered the arrangement of the straps. The two for my ankles were near the bottom of the stall, almost under the walkway, the two for my wrists were further up, about hip height when my ankles were strapped in. And I would have to lie face down, but the position would not be too uncomfortable. Undoubtedly the same would not hold every night. I turned around and knelt facing the other way and strapped in my left ankle. Strapping in the other one was a struggle, the two sets were almost three foot apart, forcing my legs wide. In a kneeling position this twisted my knees, but I could not lie down until I managed to tie off the second strap. Once I could lie down the pressure on my knees eased. I buckled the strap for my right wrist in the loosest position. Then I pulled down the hood and closed the buckle under my chin. Working blindly and twisting my body to be able to reach the other strap with both paws I managed to strap in my left wrist. I moved my head around a little until I felt a pull on the collar. The tugging continued until the collar was in the correct position directly above the metal disk after which it didn't budge any further. I found the other strap for my right wrist and slipped my paw through it. As I waited I heard the guards walk around and the occasional slaps as a tongue licked some unfortunate fur's bare skin. After a short wait one of the guards climbed down into my stall. He pulled at my right paw to get it into the proper position and tightened the strap. Then he checked the other straps. The straps on my left wrist and ankle were not tight enough to suit him. He tightened both of them by one notch and the whip licked my butt cheeks each time. The slaps were not particularly painful, but they were a pointed reminder to do better the next time. I felt the wagon bounce slightly as several people climbed out. At least one guard remained. Every now and then he walked up and down the walkway, sometimes entertaining himself by slapping our exposed skin with the tongue. The slaps were playful and didn't hurt much but they kept me wide awake. At least he stopped that after a while, or I would never have been able to sleep. Still, it was a long time before I could sleep. My body was bone-tired but my mind was still wide awake. And try as I might it returned to the events of the day, endlessly rehashing all the terrible, humiliating and painful things that had been forced on me.