FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Dawn of Dusk - Part 1: Tavern Wench - Chapter 4: The Baron's Bastards

© 2009 - 2018 Nameless

"Here is your ale, my lord." Lord, he wasn't, but just a common mercenary. Still, I liked him and we had been flirting all evening. He had drunken relatively little, always a plus he for me when I consider if I should lift my tail someone. Rather than taking the tankard, he grabbed my hips and sat me down on his lap. I squealed, mostly in surprise and almost spilled the ale. His arm wrapped itself around my body and took the tankard from my unresisting paws. He drank deeply and set the drink down on the table. "Well, pretty lass?" He grinned at me, showing his sharp teeth. Still, it was a friendly grin, not a threatening one. He was a mixed blood, as best as I could tell feline and human. His teeth, eyes and ears were almost completely cat, but the rest of his face looked mostly human. He looked a little weird, I thought, but more his appearance was interesting than ugly. "Aren't you a little forward?" "Am I?" He licked my cheek, "You tell me, my lady." When I didn't move or say anything his grin widened. His hand dropped to my buttocks and squeezed them gently. "Well, if you like to sit on my lap, then I may be forward, but not too forward. Well?" I twisted towards him, put my forearms on his shoulders and considered his face. We watched each other for a few moments and then he leaned forward and kissed me. My lips parted almost on their own and I returned the kiss. I pushed him back a little, "Sometimes I like it when a guy is a little forward. Sometimes not. My claws are very sharp, you know." "So, lass, will I feel your claws?" "Yes, of course." I grinned at him, "I just haven't decided yet if you'll feel them on your skin or in your flesh." "Have mercy with me, my lady of the sharp claws." I kissed him and then I stood up reluctantly, "Your lap is comfy and pleases me. But I have to serve the other guests as well. I'll be back." I swished my tail in his face, grinned back at him and left.

The door slammed open and three figures staggered in, followed by two more. "Wine!" I recognized the first as the barons bastard son. Being born out of wedlock doesn't mean much to followers of Lillith and by extension most followers of the infernals. If you share blood with someone, you're family and the more the merrier. So, who cares. It's a little different for nobles, they tend to put more stock in their bloodlines, especially when it comes to the inheritance of titles, but even to them it often don't make that much difference. Bastard children usually come last in the order of inheritance, mostly because the wife (or the husband in the rare cases where the female is the ranking noble) and her family tends to get upset if her children are pushed aside. It's a bit different with the celestials, they consider children born out of wedlock to be hardly human. Unless the father really pulls some strings they tend to disappear to some orphanage and later have to eke out their lives as the lowest of the low. But... Bael is a bit of a special case. The baron of Savan is a canine, mostly dog, but there's a lot of wolf blood as well. The mother was a feline servant who died in childbirth. The baron must have loved her a lot and he was deeply hurt by her death and has always treated his son well, some say spoiled him. His wife never spoke against the bastard son either. While Bael is not likely to inherit the barony, he sits on the city council and is a very important person. For some reason everybody calls him the baron's bastard and he seems to delight in the title rather than be offended by it. Maybe because he didn't get a good deal in the looks department, he's falls just shy of ugly. Still, it is not considered to be a good idea to use that title to his face, especially if you're just a servant. I don't know him well at all, this might be the third time he visited our inn, but I have of course seen him. And there are rumors and stories... Most of the time he's a perfectly nice person, but every now and then he gets really angry and cuts loose. He has hurt more than a few servants. I prayed to Lillith that was just drunk and not that having a bad day as well. The three made it to an empty table and sat down. The baron's bastard screamed, "Wine! A bottle of your best red!" He focused on me, "Wench, bring me wine!" The two others, who looked like guards, followed them but remained standing. "Yes, my lord." I bowed and hurried to the bar. My father had already unlocked the cupboard with the bottles of good wine. I grabbed three cups while he uncorked a bottle and handed it to me. I hurried to the table with our noble guest, put down two of the cups, filled the third with wine and handed it to the bastard son. He drank deeply and belched. I waited anxiously while he seemed to consider, then he held out his almost empty cup and declared, "Good enough." I filled the cup and the two others for his friends. I put the bottle on the table and asked, "Do you require anything else, my lords?" The other two took their drinks, tried them and indicated that they did not require my services. I bowed and stepped back, relieved not to have given offense. All five were armed with swords. The two who remained standing had their hands close to their weapons. They were obviously retainers and guards, the bastard's own men by their tabards, as they wore the bastard bastard's colors: A yellow castle and green reeds on a blue background with a black stripe (the last indicating the bastardy of the owner, as opposed to the baron or his legitimate heirs). (I know that a herald would describe it better, using fancy words, but I have only a little knowledge of heraldry, except of course, that I recognize the commonly seen colors). I asked them if they wanted anything, but they declined. I bowed again and left. I made a round of the taproom, flirted with the guests a little and brought fresh drinks. I was walking by the table when the bastard shouted, "Hey, wench!" I approached and bowed, "Yes, my lord?" "You've got a pretty tail. I want to see what's under it." I was about to thank him for the compliment when the second part hit me. The fur on my neck bristled in anger. We female furs do extend an invitation to mate to a male by lifting our tail. I did that often enough. But I do it when I feel like it. It's not something a male asks for (at least not directly) and definitely not something he demands. "With all due respect, my lord, but I am not interested in that." "Why? You're a slut and a whore who lifts her tail for any male who asks, everybody says so. How about this." He reached into his purse and put two copper pennies on the table. Not exactly bad money, many followers of Andariel would lift their tail for one, or even less if business was slow, I bit down an angry reply, after all he was a noble and a powerful one, "My lord. It is true that I lift my tail when I find a male interesting. But I really don't like it when a male is drunk. I follow Lillith and not Andariel. Sorry. Maybe another day." I bowed, turned around and walked away before he could answer. "Daisy, be careful." My father leaned close and talked in a low voice, "You have every right to refuse him. But you did reject him and if he feels you insulted his honor... You know I rarely tell you what to do, but please, while he is here, don't flirt with any other guests, he'll feel twice as insulted if you do. He might even challenge the other guy to a duel. You don't want that, do you." I thought about it for a moment, "No, father I don't want that. I understand. I will do as you ask." I stayed behind the bar for a minute to calm down, but eventually I had to leave and serve our guests.

"More Wine!" I grimaced in annoyance, but we could hardly refuse to serve our noble guests. My father got another bottle from the cupboard and uncorked it. I took it and walked over to our guests. The bastard held out his cup. I had to walk around the table to reach him. As I did, I stumbled and fell forward. The bottle in my hand smashed against the edge of the table and exploded, showering me and our noble guests, mostly the bastard, with red wine. Thinking about it afterwards, I'm sure one of his friends must have tripped my legs deliberately. But at the time I had other problems. I cut my hand on the shards, but not that badly, and fell into the bastard's lap. Maybe what his friend intended, without all the spilled wine, of course. He jumped up, dumping me unceremoniously ans painfully on the floor. He roared, "What's the meaning of this? Innkeeper!" and drew his sword, "I demand redress!" I managed to get up on my knees and begged, "My lord! Please have mercy!" "Mercy?" He turned back to me. A moment later I felt the cold steel touching my neck. "I was assaulted. Do you know the punishment for assaulting a noble? Wench!" He spat the last word. The punishment was death, of course, at least if the assault was proven. There was a good chance a court would punish me or my family, but likely rule it an accident. On the other hand, with his sword at my throat and his guards and armed friends, they might well mete out 'justice' right here and now. "It was an accident. Please my lord, I'm so sorry." "You're sorry? Really?" His eyes narrowed. I hadn't really noticed them before, but they were the slit eyes of a cat. And the drunken stupor was gone, replaced by a terrible, even evil cunning. I shivered when his mouth formed a wicked grin. "Well, my little rat, you say you are sorry. Are you really?" "Yes, my lord." I cringed, desperate to look away, but the tip of his sword had slipped under my chin, and I didn't dare to move, lest I be cut or worse. "Well, well. You're a piss-poor serving wench. You splashed that red wine all over me. And the floor. With a little more red juice it might even look pretty." His voice had suddenly become soft. There was not a hint of anger left, but that only made it more terrifying. I trembled in fear and looked around desperately. All the guests I could see from my position looked aghast, but nobody seemed willing to interfere. His guards stood ready, they had not drawn their weapons but they looked deadly. They certainly would not allow anyone to interfere. "Well, wench, do you agree that I deserve a little compensation for this?" "Yes, my lord." "Good. I want you to be my toy until tomorrow morning." "Your toy?" I closed my eyes for a moment. Just about the last thing I wanted. It would be bad to be his pet, but his toy. If I was a pet he would (or at least should) feel honor-bound not to hurt me too badly, but as a toy... Still, I didn't exactly have much of a bargaining position. "You will not hurt me or my family?" He grinned, showing his teeth, a canine's teeth but very sharp. "Oh, no. I will hurt you. I won't kill you and I won't maim you. And if you obey me, I won't hurt your family. Obey me perfectly. Do you understand?" "Yes, my lord." I swallowed a few times. "I agree, Master." Inside I prayed for Lillith to give me strength.

"Good, good. Hold still, slut." The tip of his sword moved slowly from my chin to my cheek. It pinched my skin, barely not cutting it. Suddenly he pulled the sword back, cutting the skin on my cheek. The scent of my blood filled my nose and I felt it trickle down my chin and throat. He looked at his sword for a long moment and then rammed it back in its sheath. I breathed a sigh of relief. He touched the wound on my cheek and licked the blood from his finger, "Hmm-mm, tasty, better than the wine. Maybe I should drink your blood. Would you like that?" I shivered. "Stand up, and strip. Let everybody see what a cheap whore you are." I obeyed, blushing and trembling with fear and impotent anger. My blush deepened and my paws balled into fists as he examined my naked body with his eyes. It was hardly the first time our I had been naked in front of all out patrons, but there's a big difference if you want to show off your body or if you are forced to it. "Lillith? Pretending not to be a whore? No matter. Hardly any tits on you. No wonder you're so cheap." He picked up the copper coins that had still lain on the table and put them back into his purse. He pulled out a half-farthing, and held it out to me, "That's more than you're worth for a night, but I don't have a quarter on me and I'm feeling generous. Here. Take it." It took all my willpower to open my paw to accept the coin. "Turn around. And don't try to pretend you're not a slut. Keep that tail up and show everybody how much you want to feel a man in you." I lifted my tail as high as I could and turned around. He smacked my rump, "Not bad. A little skinny, but not bad. Now bring me another bottle." He sent me off with an echoing smack on the rump. I hurried to the bar to fetch the requested drink. My father looked at me without saying anything. There was not really anything he could say in front of a noble who could kill us but I could read the expressions on his face well enough: anger at what was happening to me, to us, and relief that the worst had not come to pass. As I waited for my father to get a new bottle of wine, I suddenly realized that it was deathly quiet in the room, none of the guests were talking, and had not since the whole mess had started. I was just walking back to the table when the bastard noticed it as well and shouted, "What's the matter? It's not a funeral, I'm just teaching this piss-poor serving wench a thing or two." I looked at the floor, careful not to stumble again. He held out his cup and I filled it with wine. He drank and waved at the table, so I set the bottle down. He lowered the cup, considered me and a nasty smile formed on his lips, "Clean my feet. With your tongue. And tell me you're sorry about what you did to me." I bristled at this, but when he put a hand on the grip of his sword I submitted. I knelt and begged, "Please forgive me, Master. I'm so sorry I was so clumsy." Then I forced myself to lower my muzzle to his feet and extend my tongue. Yuck! I could taste little if any wine in the fur on his feet, but there was more than enough dust and dirt from the road. Had I been just a little less afraid, I would not have been able to keep going. He kept grinning down at me and didn't remove his paw from the sword for a long while. It was even more difficult and humiliating to keep licking afterwards. My mouth felt full of sand when he finally commanded, "Up on your knees." He moved his legs apart and patted his crotch, "Come here." I shuffled forward relatively eagerly. While I wasn't all that eager to have anything to do with him, giving him head would be a lot less unpleasant than what I had to do just now. Or so I thought, he laughed and said, "Hah! You know, maybe you wouldn't be such a piss-poor servant if you had more piss!" He unlaced the fly of his trousers and let his male sword pop out. He commanded, "Drink. If you spill any you lick it up from the floor. And I don't want to feel your teeth. If I feel any teeth I will knock them out of your mouth. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master." "What are you waiting for?" "Sorry, Master." I leaned forward, opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around his shaft. His scent wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't really bad either; without the unpleasant aroma of too much wine, I wouldn't have it minded it at all. "Only the tip." He put a claw on my nose and pushed my head back until only the head of his cock remained in my mouth. A stream of his vile piss hit my tongue. Yuck! I almost spit it out, but then I remembered the command about having to lick it up and I managed to swallow. He kept it going for a long time, pissing slowly so I could swallow. By allowing only the head in my mouth, he insured that I had to taste everything and couldn't swallow any without getting the piss on my tongue first. I was very glad when he finally stopped after dragging it out for a long time. Again and again I had thought him done only to have another squirt fill my mouth yet again. At his command I licked him clean and stood up. He laced the fly of his trousers up. Then he put his right paw between my legs and began to feel me up. Two of his fingers slid into me, exploring the inside of my flower. He grinned at me, "You like that, slut. Don't you?" When I didn't answer right away he poked my sensitive skin hard with a claw. I answered hurriedly, "Yes, Master. I love that." He kept poking me painfully for a bit longer before he went back to just touching me. His fingers slid deeper and deeper into me. In spite of the disgust I felt at his touch, I started to get aroused. Just when it was beginning to actually feel good, he pulled his fingers out of me, raised them to my mouth and commanded, "Lick." I blushed in humiliation, but did as I was told. At least my nectar tasted a lot better than what I just had to drink. When his fingers were clean, he commanded, "Get on my lap. Face down." After a bit my body was arranged to his satisfaction. "Paws behind your back." He tied them together with the soft rope, which I had used as a belt for my skirt. I felt helpless, completely helpless. It terrified me. And also excited me. "Do you agree that a clumsy servant like you should be punished?" "Yes, Master." I didn't really agree, but it was quite obviously the answer he expected. "You may beg for punishment. Beg and count." "Please punish me, Master. One, please." His hand smacked hard against my right buttock. "Two, please." The left buttock. And so on. I was actually a little surprised when he stopped me at the count of ten. He bent down and said in a low voice, "I am going to nick the soles of your feet. Do not make a noise." I heard the rasping as he pulled a dagger out of its sheath. Then he reached down and lifted my right foot. He touched the cold metal to my pad on my foot for a long moment. I clenched my teeth and he dragged the tip slowly across the leathery skin, leaving behind a burning line of fire. He made a second cut and released the foot. He repeated that with my left foot. And then told me to stand up. I did as commanded, whimpering in pain when the injured pads of my feet touched the rough wood of the floor. "Stand still." I tried my best, but the pain was really bad and I couldn't stop my feet from moving entirely, trying (without much success) to find a less painful position. "Now..." He put his left hand between my legs, two fingers slid into me and began to caress the inside of my wet slit. His voice got louder, addressing not just me, but the whole room, "you will apologize for being such a piss-poor excuse for a serving wench." He paused while his fingers found increasingly sensitive spots inside me. His other hand reached around my hips and grabbed the back of my rump, preventing me from trying to evade the arousing attention of his fingers. Not only that, his thumb found the sensitive spot at the base of my tail and began rubbing it. My breath wheezed in and out in. His grin said he knew exactly what he was doing to my body and enjoyed the power he had over me. He went on, "You will apologize to each person in this room. Separately, you will kiss their feet, tell them what you are and how sorry you are. And then you will beg each to punish you. You will beg him" he looked at Myra, "or her, to spank you. To give you ten strokes. You will beg for and count the stokes. If anybody rejects you, my man" he turned to look at the big scary looking canine standing behind him, "will give you twenty instead. Do you understand, my little slut?" "Yes... uh-ah" His fingers found an especially sensitive spot inside me and squeezed it. It hurt a lot, but it also aroused me, it almost made me lose myself. I moaned loudly, almost forgetting myself and wishing him to go on. But he stopped just short of bringing me to an orgasm. He pulled his fingers out of my hot and wet slit, delighting in the sight of my hips trying to follow to keep him inside. He let me move just enough so I could not pretend it had not happened before his other fingers stopped me. He wiped the sticky fingers on my breasts, nose and cheeks. "Well?" I needed a few deep breaths to calm myself before I could answer, "Yes, Master. I understand." "Then get to it. Oh, speak loudly when you do. If I can't hear you then it doesn't count." He watched me curiously and I realized that he wouldn't give me any further command to obey. Or rather, if I made him wait long enough to repeat the command he would find some way to make the whole ordeal even more unpleasant. Dragging my feet as much as I dared, I had to struggle to make my body move, I turned around and walked to the table with the mercenary I had flirted with half a lifetime, or a few minutes, ago. Each step hurt my so much, I went down on my knees and crawled the rest of the way. When I was kneeling at his feet, I said, "I'm sorry, Master. I'm a piss-poor excuse for a serving wench. Please forgive me." I kissed each boot once and added, "I deserve punishment, please spank me." He slapped his lap and I stood up and laid down on it. "One, please." He spanked me hard enough to make some noise, but no harder than needed. When he helped me to my feet, he whispered in my ear, "Don't lose heart, dear. Everybody her know you're not a slut ot a bad waitress, even if he forces you to pretend to be." He smiled at me and gave me a reassuring squeeze. Then I went to the next guest and repeated the whole humiliating 'apology'. The first few had been hard to do, but after that it got better, or at least a little easier. Almost everybody was nice to me and most of the patrons even had a few encouraging words for me. Most of them did not spank me all that hard but there were few who didn't use the opportunity to cop a feel or three, but under the circumstances I did not mind that much, if at all. Myra hit me as hard as she could. Well, payback's a bitch and all that, but truth to be told I couldn't fault her all that much. I hadn't exactly pulled my punches when it had been my turn to punish her and neither had I left out many chance to humiliate her then either. The whole ordeal took a long time, there were more than twenty people present. Several left after they had done their 'duty'. As far as I could tell most of them were disgusted with the whole thing. Even with them pulling the punches as much as they dared, my rear was on fire and my eyes full of tears long before I was through. And the worst came at the end, when I had to ask the bastard's friends and guards. They all hit me as hard as they could and they were all strong males. When I claimed that I was done, the bastard reminded me that I had not apologized to him (the spanking he had given me before had been before he commanded me to seek absolution from every person, so apparently that had not counted). As punishment he doubled the amount. He borrowed heavy leather gloves from his man-at-arms and really laid into it. I screamed in pain at every stroke. I could barely speak which dragged the whole thing out as I had to calm myself down to talk after almost every stroke. When he was finally done I felt faint from the pain, I have been spanked occasionally, but it had never anywhere as bad as this. His right hand slipped between my legs and into my flower and I realized that I was still very wet and, while not hot, definitely warm. He bent down and whispered in my ear, "Your buttocks feel like a stove. But your cunt is like the inside of the stove. Slut. Now, do you want to sit on my lap? Or would you prefer to kneel and lick my feet?" I really, really wanted the first, but my ass hurt so much that sitting was simply unthinkable and I was also rather certain which one he would prefer. "Kiss your feet, Master." "Good. It is good that you realize what your station in life is, you worthless slut. Get down." I slid off his lap and knelt at his feet and started to kiss and lick them. At least by now they were relatively clean. Still, I felt very humiliated to have to do this. And my mouth and throat were bone dry and hurt; having to lick his dusty feet only made it worse. For a few minutes he joked around with his friends. Quite a few of the jokes were aimed at me, and not in a good way. Once, when he made an especially humiliating comment, loud enough for the whole room to hear, I had to grind my teeth so badly to keep from voicing an angry retort, I almost bit my tongue. The bastard shouted, "Innkeeper! I need a couple of lengths of rope and a dirty rag or two. Hurry, or I'll find a better way to discipline your slutty serving wench." He tapped my cheek with his foot, "Hey, piss-poor slut. You're sill thirst, aren't you?" It took me a moment to realize that this was not meant as a question. I ground my teeth in anger but answered the way he wanted me to, "Yes, Master." "Max, Lyle? Can either of you have something for our poor serving whore to drink." They both replied that they did indeed have something to drink for me. The bastard looked down at me, "Well, what are you waiting for. Get it while it's still warm." I hissed and ground my teeth but submitted. I crawled under the table to the closer of his friends and lifted my muzzle until it was in front of his crotch. He put his hands on the belt and looked down at me. It took me a few moments to realize that he expected me to beg for it. I was just steeling myself to do that when my left foot exploded with pain, I mostly managed to keep the scream inside and almost head-butted him in the boy parts. The bastard had kicked the wounded sole of my foot. After a few deep breaths I had myself under control enough to beg, "Master, I am thirsty. Please give me something to drink." He unlaced the fly of his breeches and let his pole pop out. I took the head into my mouth. Moments later I fought to swallow all the vile juice he filled my mouth with. Eventually it was done and I cleaned him. He laced up his breeches and pointed at the other friend. Feeling nauseous but too afraid to refuse, I crawled over to the other friend and begged for his drink. While I was busy swallowing I heard my father's voice from above me, "Here you are, my lord." It was full of anger, barely suppressed. But, like me, he didn't dare to offend the baron's bastard any further and put our family in worse danger than it already was. When the second friend was done as well, I returned to kneel at the bastard's feet. He had his paws on his belt and grinned down at me. Sensing his intent, I begged him for a drink as well. He didn't have all that much, but even a drop was too much for me. My stomach roiled, had I not been certain I would receive a horrible punishment, I would have thrown up. It was a struggle just to breathe. The bastard closed his trousers, grinning down at me, obviously enjoying the anguish and humiliation he was inflicting on me.

"Master?" "Yes, my slutty toy?" "Could I please go to the outhouse?" "No. Not yet. You'll go when I tell you to and not a moment before. And you better not soil me or..." He held up one of the rags my father had brought and examined it critically. It was a cleaning rag, but a reasonably clean one, and as it turned out, too clean for his liking. He turned to the human retainer held out the rag and said, "I think your boots need to be cleaned. Especially the soles." The human guard looked askance at his liege lord, but then he got it and a nasty grin formed on his lips. He sat down on the bench and began to wipe his boots with the rag. After a minute or two he returned the, now much dirtier rag. The bastard unlaced the fly of his trousers once more and squeezed a little piss on the balled up rag. Then he commanded, "Open your mouth." When I didn't obey right away, he put a paw on his dagger and said in a terrifyingly quiet voice, "Open your mouth. Or I open your throat." I swallowed hard but then I obeyed. He stuffed the evil smelling and tasting ball deep into my muzzle. He grabbed a piece of rope, and put it in my mouth. He wrapped the rope around my head three times, pulling it so tight the sides of my mouth and my neck hurt. It also pushed the nasty balled rag almost down my throat. He wrapped the rope around my snout and throat a few times more until I couldn't move my jaw at all. It was so tight my whole head hurt and I could hardly breathe. I cried out in pain a few times while he gagged me, but it was so muffled I could hardly hear it myself. He closed his trousers, stood up and shoved several more pieces of rope and another rag into the pockets of his jacket. "Get up." He grabbed my left arm and lifted me to my feet. I screamed in pain when my wounded feet touched the floor. A moment later he started for the bar, dragging me after him. Every step hurt terribly. "Innkeeper I require a room for the night." The look my father gave the bastard was so full of anger and loathing, I feared that he would attack him. Part of me hoped that he would, but the consequences for our family were certain to be dire. But after a moment he took a key from the rack on the wall and held it, "Room three, up the stairs and to the right." "Come, you little dirty whore. Tom, with me." Just standing was torture and walking was ten times worse. My eyes were filled with tears and I could hardly see anything or notice much except the pain I was in. I was dragged up the stairs and down the corridor. We stopped while my father unlocked the door. The bastard took the burning candle from my father, commanded his retainer (the canine) to stand guard and dragged me into the room. He shoved me forward so hard, I stumbled and collapsed on the floor. I managed to roll and not hit my head too hard. I lay there, shivering in pain and fear. I heard him close, lock and bar the door. He walked around the room for a bit, examining the room. He commanded, "Come here." After a few tries I managed to get up on my knees and crawled over to the table. We were in one of the better and larger rooms. The bed was big enough for three or four people (as long as they didn't mind being close) and there was an actual table. "Stand up." I tried, but as soon as I put any weight on my foot, it hurt so much that I screamed and collapsed. I lay panting and crying for a moment before I finally managed to get back up on my knees. This time he simply grabbed both of my arms from behind, lifted me up and set me down next to the table. He pushed me forward so I could support most of my weight on my upper body. Unfortunately my legs still needed to bear some of my weight. He pulled at my right leg, pulling it down and to the side. I screamed in pain, as he tied the ankle to the leg of the table close to the ground, grinding the sole into the floor. He did the same with my left leg and the other leg of the table. "Watch your tail, whore." I barely heard him through the fog of pain, but I managed to lift my tail high. I stood with my legs spread wide, bent forward and my rump sticking out. His fingers slid into me, exploring my wet insides. "You like that, whore, don't you?" He took the muffled noises I made as assent. "You'll like this even more." His finger slipped out of me and he wiped them on my rump. A few moments later I felt the head of his sword at my entrance. Happily only his male sword and not his weapon. As he slid into me, I realized that he was rather big and apparently already fully erect. The first few thrusts were rather gentle as he explored me. Then he sped up and soon I screamed with every thrust as he slammed my hips into the hard wood of the table. His belt buckle dug into the still very sensitive skin on my buttocks and hurt badly. The pain was incredible and yet my lust increased quickly. Suddenly a powerful orgasm ripped through me. I screamed in lust and pain. And I came again and again with every thrust. Soon I began to see stars, I could hardly breathe. Somehow, I don't know how, I didn't pass out as he wrung one climax after the other from my tortured body. Eventually he came as well, filling me with his hot juices. I collapsed when he slowed down and finally pulled out. I was so exhausted I could only lie there and try to force some air into my lungs. He wiped his cock with my tail, but I was too exhausted to care.

The baron's bastard let me rest for a little while he sat on the bed for a bit. He picked up the pillows and covers from the bed and piled them on the table next to my body. He lit the second candle, which was standing on the windowsill near my head. He crouched down next to the table and commanded, "Look at me." When I didn't turn my head towards him he pulled out his dagger, shoved it under my chin and lifted my head. His voice was low as he said, "I'll cut out any eye that is not on me." A shiver of terror ran down my spine and I turned my head towards him. "Do not look away until I give you permission. Or..." He turned the dagger, letting me feel the sharp edge and the tip but not breaking my skin. The sharp tip moved slowly until it was only a hair's breath from my left pupil and I shivered in terror. "You liked that, didn't you?" He stared into my eyes. I cringed, desperate to look away, but I didn't dare to. "Answer me. Yes or no. Do not lie to me." When I still didn't react, he pressed the point of the dagger against my nose. "If you don't answer, I'll start cutting. It would be a shame if that cute face got all cut up wouldn't it? Well?" I nodded. Having to admit this was so humiliating I almost wished I could die instead. But I was too terrified of him, of what he would do. And of dying. He began to grin, "You're a slut. A real, total slut." I was desperate to look away, anything but look in his eyes. His knowing eyes, they seemed to know me inside and out. His grin widened more and more. "You hate me, don't you? Don't try to deny it, I can see it in your eyes. You hate me. You want nothing more than to sink your claws into my flesh. If you were not so afraid, you would try to kill me. Well? Answer." He wasn't spot on, but he wasn't wrong either. I did hate him, but I die hate what he was doing to me. I nodded. "Hah! You're such a slut. You hate me with every fiber of your body, you fear me, you're in enough pain that some might have passed out. And yet, the moment I stick my sword in your sheath, you get so hot and wet..." His hand reached for my buttocks, squeezed them and then his fingers slid into my wet slit. I blushed in embarrassment when I noticed how hot and wet I was and how my hips move to give him easier access. His knowing grin said he had noticed all that as well. He went on, "I bet the rivers of fire in hell aren't as hot and wet as your cunt, my little whore. The moment I touch you, you go into heat like the bitch you are. I bet you came harder than you had anytime before. And you came so often. Well, aren't you my little slut?" Humiliated to the bone, I nodded in defeat. His grin widened even more, any wider and the top of his head would have surely fallen off. He wiggled his fingers inside me and asked, "Want me to stop?" I shook my head, I knew I was giving him exactly what he wanted, but I was too exhausted and afraid to fight it any more. His fingers continued to massage my inside for a few more moments and then pulled out. I couldn't stop myself from groaning in disappointment. He wiped the fingers on my snout, filling my nose with the scents of our mating. His hand returned to my rear, but this time his fingers only teased me. Try as I might, I could not stop my body from moving with him, desperately trying to get his questing fingers to slip deeper into my slit. I could see in his eyes how much my desperate need pleased him. After a few minutes he finally tired of this game. He got up and went to stand behind me. I gasped when he suddenly blew air into my wet slit. His fingers caressed my rump and thighs while his mouth blew air into me. My arousal rose quickly and I moaned into the gag.

He untied my ankles from the table legs, picked me up with hardly any effort and put me down on the bed. I lay on my belly and waited for his next move. He bent down and untied the rope from around my head. He removed it and the vile rag and put them on the table. The bastard returned, carrying another, longer, rope, which he dropped on my back. He sat down on the bed behind me. He took my feet and bent them until they hoovered above my rear. I didn't try to resist him. Then he grabbed my knees and moved them apart. He crossed my ankles and tied them together, wrapping the rope around them again and again. I whimpered in the pain as he pulled the rope tighter and tighter. With my ankles tied up at right angles, I could not close my legs. He stood up again, picked me up and turned me over, so I lay on my back. I grunted in pain as my own weight pressed the sensitive skin of my buttocks down onto my hurt and even more sensitive feet and soles. He fetched a pillow and put it under my head. Then he opened the fly of his trousers once more and climbed on top of me. He hoovered above me, supporting his weight on arms and knees. He put a hand on my head, forcing me to look him in the eyes and then he lowered his hips a little until I could feel the tip of his sword poke at my invitingly open flower. He moved back and forth, teasing me with the soft touch of his male sword. It didn't take long until I was panting in arousal and tried desperately to move my hips to get him inside me. All the time his eyes mocked me. "Do you want me inside you, slut? Do you want to get fucked?" I whispered, "Yes, master, please." He grinned down at me, "I can't hear you." I moaned and tried again, a little louder, "Yesss... Master, please fuck me." "Louder." I tried again, but he just smiled his evil smile and continued to tease me. I tried again and again, a little louder each time. I was screaming, almost at the top of my lungs, when he finally 'heard' me. "Good, good, you're a precious little slut, you whore you, aren't you?" His sword slid into me. There was a moment of pure ecstasy and then the pain hit me as his weight crushed my feet against my rear; my arms, especially the wrists hurt as well, but compared to my wounded feet I hardly felt them. I groaned, half in pain, half in arousal. He pulled back a bit and thrust into me a little harder. The pain rose, as did my arousal. He continued to thrust into me, a tiny little bit harder and faster each time. "If you want me to fuck you hard enough to come, you'll have to beg for it, you whore." He sounded completely calm, not winded, exhausted or anything. "Please fuck me hard! Master!" "Can't hear you." "Please!" I Let out a wordless scream of frustrated desire. "Fuck me!" He rammed his huge pole into me, so hard I almost passed out from the pain and pleasure. I screamed. And screamed again and again, sometimes in pain, sometimes in pleasure, often both. Every now and then he slowed down until I regained my senses and my desire for him forced me to plead and beg for him to go on. His pole seemed to burn inside me, it filled me so full I feared my belly would burst and yet I could not get enough. I have no idea how long he fucked me. I was way beyond thought, I was more aroused than I had ever been, and yet I could not reach a climax. Eventually I did, or at least I could feel myself slipping over the edge, but then my scream of pleasure turned into one of rage as he pulled out of me just as I came and yanked me back from the edge of the climax. He marked me as his, spurting his seed all over my body. My voice almost failed as I pleaded desperately but he just ignored me. He commanded, "Shut up." grabbed my snout and closed it so hard I almost bit off my tongue. My eyes pleaded for release, but he just grinned down at me, enjoying his victory and the destruction of the last shreds of my dignity. My arousal ebbed and suddenly I felt so exhausted, I had to wonder how I managed to keep breathing. He held his position for a minute before he crawled forward and positioned his cock above my mouth. "Clean me." I barely had enough strength to extend my tongue, I would never have been able to lift my head. I licked my nectar from his pole, it tasted like it always did and yet, at the same time, it tasted spoiled and rotten. As he got up, I thought that I saw the glint of a silver ring around the base of his pole, but when I turned my head to look closer it was gone.

I lay there, helpless, trembling and crying quietly. My whole body hurt, my feet hurt so bad I might have agreed to have them cut off, just to end the pain. And my flower ached, my whole body ached with unfulfilled desire. The bastard let me rest a few minutes, watching me and enjoying my helplessness, humiliation and pain. He removed the pillow and put it back on the table. Then he flipped me over once more, laying me on my belly. "Master..." I began but he smacked my nose, not so hard that it hurt badly, but enough to shut me up. "Silence." He took the balled up rag, pissed on it and held it in front of my mouth. When I refused to open my mouth, he put it on the bed right in front of my nose. He dropped the rope he had used to tie it in place on my head and sat down next to me. His hands began to caress my skin and fur, my back, the sides of my breast and my tail. I was a little surprised at how gentle he was. He smiled down at me, a gentle smile and not an evil grin, and then he began to speak, "You know, you have really wonderful fur, so soft. And that tail, so big and bushy. What a wonderful pelt. It would look really nice, hanging over the fireplace in my room. Well? What do you think about that?" I almost peed myself in sudden terror. His voice was so soft and gentle, like talking to a child. Or, I realized with a shock, with a pet you want to calm down so it won't realize you're about to put it down. Suddenly I could not breathe and my heart seemed to stop. Before I could say anything he went on, "You know Tom, don't you. The dog who's standing guard. He does anything I tell him to. Really anything. If I tell him to skin you alive, he'll do it. I wonder how far he'll get before you pass out from the pain." I shivered in terror, worse than any I had ever known before. He picked up the vile rag and held it in front of my mouth once more. This time I opened my mouth obediently and let him shove it in. He tied it in place, pulling the ropes even tighter than he had before. I whimpered soundlessly and screamed a few times before he was done. He stood up and laced his trousers up once more and closed the belt (he had not bothered to take off any of his clothes, not even his boots). He considered the wooden chair and then he grabbed it and pulled it apart without much apparent effort. He examined one of the pieces, one of the crossbars of the back and tossed it on the bed. He grabbed the rest of the ropes and approached me and knelt on the bed between my widely spread legs. "Do not move or try to resist." He untied my wrists, but only for a moment. He tied them to the ends of the piece of wood, tight enough that I screamed in pain. This kept my wrists about a foot apart. Then he used another piece of rope to tie the piece of wood to my ankles. I screamed several times as the rope cut into the wounded pads on my feet. He pulled the ropes so tight I had to arch my back. Then he used another rope to pull my elbows together, though he did not pull it so tight the elbows touched. Still, the position was pure torture and hurt my whole body terribly. He wrapped a rope around my waist and tied it around my arms. Then he turned his attention to my tail. It went over my right arm and between my legs. He pulled it through the rope around my waist, bent it tightly and then pulled it back between my legs. He tied it to my left leg, leaving just the tip free. "You'll want a bit of light, don't you?" He blew out the candle on the windowsill, pulled it out of the holder and returned to me. I squealed in to the gag in protest when I felt his fingers touch my tailhole. They pulled it open a little and then his other hand rammed the end of the candle into it. I turned to look at my back and was horrified to see him fetch the other candle and light the one sticking out of my ass. The bastard put a hand on my head and turned it forward, gently but firmly. I heard the clinking of coins and then he put a half-farthing on the bed a few inches in front of my nose. "You were better than I expected, whore. Yes, a farthing is a good price for a night with you." He ruffled my headfur while I steamed in helpless anger and fresh humiliation. "Good night. Sleep well." His hand caressed my rear and his fingers slipped into my wet slit. A moment was enough to bring my desire back. Soon I was panting and wiggling my rear. "Good night my little slut. Maybe I'll visit you in the morning for a little more fun, maybe not. Would you like me to?" His fingers kept teasing me, "Well?" I gave in and nodded, just a fraction of an inch, as far as I could move, but it was enough to tell him of my submission. He laughed, pulled his fingers out of me slowly and wiped them on my snout. He slapped my rump playfully and left. I heard him open the door. Outside he said, "Tom, stay here and make sure my little toy's rest is not disturbed. Good night." "Good night, Lord Bael." The door closed, leaving me alone. I could hear the bastard return to the taproom below me. He joked with his friends for a bit (about me, from what little I could understand) and then they left. I cried softly, tears running down my cheeks. My whole body hurt horribly. And I needed to pee so badly. It had been a long time since I had last relieved myself and then they had forced me to drink so much of their vile piss. And I was starting to get cold, I had no warm body to snuggle up to. I couldn't get any covers and I couldn't even cover my body with my tail. A few minutes later I heard my parents come up the stairs. They argued with the guard for a while. Eventually he agreed to let my mother in for a moment to have a quick look to check that I was still alive. The door opened and they came in (he had insisted that my father leave before he opened the door). "Mother Lillith have mercy! What has that bastard done with you, Daisy?" They argued for a long while, my mother tried to get him to let her untie me, remove the candle, let her treat my wounds, cover me to keep me from freezing and more. It went on for a few minutes. Eventually she got two concessions: He would watch me as long as the candle burned to make sure that it did not start a fire (after she left my father brought him a bucket of water so he could put it out quickly if needed) and he checked the ropes that bound me and loosened a few of them a little. And then I was (almost) alone again. He stood directly behind me, as far away as possible, so I couldn't see him. The hot wax dropped down on my ass and ran into my slit where it burned the sensitive skin before it cooled. A little while before the candle finally burned down, I couldn't hold it in any more and I soiled the mattress. For a few moments the wet warmth was almost pleasant but it cooled quickly and then the wetness seeped into the mattress and my fur. I could almost hear him wrinkle his nose at the smell. The candle flame burned my tailhole a little before it finally went out. Compared to all the other pain I felt, I hardly noticed it. The guard poked at my tailhole to make sure the flame was out and then he left without speaking a word. It was the longest night of my life. I was in constant pain, I was freezing and whenever I though about the bastard I felt rage and lust well up in my heart. I prayed, mostly to Lillith, but also to Belial and Lirriel. I cried until I had no more tears. I don't think I slept at all, but I may have passed out from pain a couple of times. As the night wore on the pain got worse and worse. The guard came in a few times to check that I was still alive. He touched me a few times, probably to determine if I was too cold or hot, but he didn't say anything or help me in any way that I could notice.