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Anthro Sex Squad Story 2 - Winfred's Story

By Killenor

Arc 1 - Origins

Chapter 6

The beast waited in the darkness.

It knew where it was, where the door was. Its predatory mind knew where the light would fall once the door opened. It hid, ignoring its wounds, savoring the thought of retribution.

Time did not exist. The beast would wait as long as it needed.

Finally, a second and an eternity later, it heard footfalls in the leaves beyond the door. Something descended into the burrow that sheltered the entrance from prying eyes and the light of day.

Scent wafted in now. The tormentor had arrived!

The door clicked twice and then slowly began to open. Light from outside streamed in, falling across the disheveled bed, the bloody tools, the sticky moist floor, and the pantry where the bones of victims were kept beneath the cupboards. Hreugh's shadow was clear in the door.

She leaped! Every muscle firing, hurtling toward the fiend that had hurt her so. Her blood sang with rage and pain and in a second, she knew, it would all be over.

The surprise attack threw Hreugh off guard for but a second. Unfortunately for Winfred, a life replete with torture, slavery, and outcast to the wild-lands had kept the old badger constantly on guard. He side-stepped the fury driven charge and, before she had time to correct, hammered an elbow down hard onto his assailant's spine. This drove Winfred, face first into the dirt.

With a surge of new pain, the beast within sprang anew into action. She twisted upon the ground, ready to spring once again. Hreugh was now more than ready, balling his fists together and delivering a two-fisted slam upon Winfred's cheek the second her eyes met his.

It was not enough. Though she lurched under the heavy blow, the sheer adrenaline would not let her fall. She turned about her waist and raked out with her claws. Hreugh dodged and weaved as best he could but in the enclosed space of the doorway he had trouble. Flashes of pain bit his side as a pair of claws found home in his flesh through his clothes, tearing furrows in the flesh of his abdomen. He kicked out, smashing a boot-heel into the snarling beast's sternum.

That did it. With a sickening crack Winfred's breath left her. She simply couldn't react, and the beast was no help. She could only concentrate on trying to refill her crushed lungs. While she tried to draw breath, more blows rained in at her, smashing her shoulders together, punishing her face, and slamming her back. Every hit working to keep her off-breath.

Finally, Hreugh composed himself well enough. He gathered magicks about his hand, screaming "Arkuti noct!" as he slapped the little whore's face one last time. The power of his spell launching her battered body into the doorjamb and rendering her totally senseless.

Seeing there was no longer any threat to him, Hreugh at last entered his home and lit a lantern. After fussing for a minute over his cuts, he decided to see if his ungrateful little bitch would yet live. A shallow, labored breath still escaped every few seconds, enough to confirm that she would still be useful to him. He returned to patching himself up, wanting to reserve his magic for more useful things than closing a couple claw-wounds.

He turned instead, to his rack. How had a young cub, even a wolverine-folk cub, managed to get free?! Professional pride would not allow him the excuses of improper buckling or poor upkeep, and the ripped leather and shattered wood told him all he needed. Somehow, this young one was immensely strong, and that rage he had found her in must have given her the rush she needed to break free. Simply amazing.

"Rrokketch!" cried Hreugh, gripping the edge of the rack. The splintered wood re-knitted, the leather healed, and the buckles shed the crust of tarnish about then. Finally, there it stood, good as new.

Breathing heavily, Hreugh staggered over to his chair. Heavy magic-work was sometimes draining on his older frame. This, coupled with being slightly out of practice due to lack of victims, drained away his choler and determination. Still, there remained a few tasks for his mystical powers. Then he could rest easy.

Pulling himself out of the chair he staggered to the fallen body of Winfred. A heave saw her lifted to his shoulder and a few shuffling steps brought her back to the rack. There she was buckled in firmly, a secure as the newly repaired wood and leather could make her. Hreugh now worked his way to his cupboards to fetch a set of clips to keep this little whore's eyes open.

Winfred did not stir as the smooth wooden clips pried her eyes open. She was still held completely senseless by Hreugh's magic and her own damaged body. Without any rage to fuel her, it was unlikely she would recover soon. Her eyes stared blankly, unseeingly at her torturer.

"Nos to malivaga" Hreugh began in a chant, summoning his powers, "O non shiaaal meaketh!"

His gaze locked with Winfred's as he muttered nonsense to her. The words themselves were worthless, being made up on the spot as Hreugh wove the threads of pain and lust bound within him. They acted only to focus the magic within. Pale sparks began dancing between their eyes as he proclaimed another indecipherable verse.

"Haamt nict gro veelah!" Hreugh commanded, causing a more focused beam of pale green/violet to connect their eyes.

Now, he felt, he was peering directly into her soul. He could feel the threads of this poor girl's mind shudder and run from his loathsome gaze. Without moving his hands he reached in and seized at strands of thought, twisting them with his magical might as he began the rape of the young girl's mind. His commands flowed from within him, ordering, forcing his victim's mind into the shapes he wanted.

But something was amiss... somehow, no matter how he tried to marshal the mind beneath her eyes, something kept interfering! More nonsensical words of power flowed from his lips, intensifying the beam and adding a thread of deep crimson into it. He reached up and wrenched open the wolverine's mouth and into it let a drop of blood, his blood, fall. With the last words he had spoken, he had ripped his own tongue upon his teeth. The sanguine essence would be perfect for provoking what he hoped would be her undoing.

As the blood entered Winfred's mouth, her disoriented mind found something to focus on. The scent and flavor of her tormentor. Her greatest of enemies whom she had met but yesterday! The beast swelled within her unconscious mind, seeking to marshal every resource left to destroy this latest invasion.

And that is how Hreugh saw it! A coiled knot of thought, rage, and instinct that had been buried within was now surfacing. Its influence was strong, much stronger than even Hreugh had expected, but once it was exposed there could be no saving it. Hreugh's magicked mind-grip seized the thrashing essence, binding it and forcing it down into a hidden recess and locked it with the most intense of repressions. Just like that, Winfred's will was broken.

The rest of it went easily. Without rage, pain, or self preservation, Winfred had nothing to drive her resistance. The remainder of her young mind relaxed and simply did as the active conscious required. It waited, doll-like under Hreugh's gaze as it was made into an unwilling whore. Someone who would work for the delight of others and keep nothing for herself.

She would still feel, though Hreugh as he closed the now sessile mind before him. She would have every semblance of her former self, though now she could never get angry at him, never want to hurt him, and most importantly, never disobey him. His only lament was that he could never truly torture her again, for she could not, now, react to his torment. He pushed this regret aside and filled himself with the visions of his triumphant return to riches and luxury. He would make this unwilling little slut into his greatest prize, teach her all the secrets he could, gather his riches, and build his own little nest full of victims who knew pain like no living being should.

A tiny sacrifice, he chuckled to himself, to win at the greater game! The pieces were in motion and he only had to find his proper niche on the game-board.

Trenton was its name.

***

_Why do you recoil? Ah, well yes, Hreugh did make me a slave. I suppose that was a bit much to tell, but it was a most significant time in my life.

How do I know what happened? Patience! I'll get to that. Now as I said, I was senseless while Hreugh raped my mind and enslaved me. I didn't wake until the next day, totally healed and rested. Hreugh wielded powerful magic and, though I knew the things he had done to me to earn my wrath, I simply couldn't think why, or how, I had become so angry as to attack him. Indeed I never thought I'd feel angry for anything ever again! Sure he beat me, fucked me, and did all manner of degrading things that next day but I never felt the slightest twinge of anger or shame from any of these things. It was as if he had wrapped me in a warm blanket that made it all feel right.

Satisfied that his spell was firmly in place, he explained what would become of me. I was to be his apprentice, of a sort, and a harlot. We would move away from the forest and in to a city. I actually felt elation at this! ... Yes because of the spell... but also that it seemed that my father's words were coming true at last! I would know my place in the wide world!_

The next several years passed quickly for me. Trenton was a bustling city that was being pillaged for the nobility's war effort at the time, so it was actually easy to get established. The nobles, in their greed, wanted as many residents as could be had hoping to increase their populations. Meanwhile, the city was a fertile ground for illicit harlotry and illegal activity. Hreugh was brilliant, yes I said brilliant, in infiltrating the underground whore-trade and establishing our own "services". He would find lonely soldier in training, wealthy merchants, and generally anyone with a spare coin, and give me over to them after using magic to alter me to closer match their pleasures.

Also, during that time, he taught me of sex magic, the powerful force known as eroticka, and how it could be shaped to enhance pleasures and even manipulate the world around me. With my suppressed humours, I found that I took to it quite easily. It became a simple thing that I used as idly as I might comb my own hair! I found that, not only could I seduce and please practically anyone I met, but I liked it too! As I matured, I found that sex was even more fun, especially after a generous customer gave me my first real set of orgasms! Finally, thanks to Hreugh, it turned into something I almost needed. A day without erotika coursing through me was as a day without sunlight or a night without stars.

We made so much money, though Hreugh kept it all to himself. Between both our magicks and my blossoming skills, no one who left ever left unsatisfied. Of course, Hreugh kept any whom he knew would not be missed. Sometimes at night I could swear that their screams from several floors of stone beneath my bed. It didn't bother me back then, my emotions were crippled, but I often shudder at night for thinking about it.

Anyways, that's too much of the past. You should know how I got free. We can always discuss my prodigal ability at sex later. So, it was when I was quite a little bit older that someone came to the underground brothel. The man who would change my life. The only man who ever came to see me that didn't want to bang my brains out. In fact, it's funny to think, he couldn't have even if he wanted to. Not that this little fact was obvious to Hreugh. In fact, he looked a lot like someone who really needed a good, unjudging brothel lay.

***

He isn't anywhere near the best, thought Winfred as the human man rutted atop her. Sure he's got size, power, stamina... hell, he'd been slamming into me for over two hours now. He just... doesn't know how to use what he's got.

Winfred stifled a yawn. How could this guy last so long and fail to get her off at all? She tried to shift so his pounding rod would rub a little over the front, perhaps hit her favorite spot just a few times. To her dismay, he shifted himself in time with her, and to trouble matters, roughly grabbed at one of her fuzzy and magically reduced tits and squeezed just a little too hard at the nipple. She sighed, doing her best to turn it into a believable moan of pleasure.

If only he'd not arch his waist so much, she mused, at least she'd get some clitoral stimulation. Unfortunately, this guy seemed to want nothing more than to keep her as bored as she could be while she earned his money. His tit-squeezing hand had even returned to her wrist, keeping her from doing anything even mildly interesting with her hands.

It was really getting old. Winfred had squeezed her vaginal muscles as tightly as she could, and holding them for two hours was beginning to wear on them. Finally, she decided to speed things up in the only way she had left. She began moaning and writing, but under her breath came nonsensical words. Words that only served to convey how she wished things to be, words that would only focus her own thoughts.

Suddenly, it was over. The man gasped and twitched and shuddered. Winfred could not help a little smile as she felt warmth flow into her with each spasm. The man's eyes were wide with alarm. It had happened all so suddenly and quite beyond his control!

He leaped up suddenly. "You BITCH!" he yelled, "What the bloody hells did you DO to me! I was not here to please you! I was here to FUCK you!"

His hand lashed out, striking the deceptively young-looking face that lay before him. He expected the little wench to start crying, for he had hit her quite firmly and she looked so young. To his amazement, however, she didn't so much as wince.

"Who taught you sex magic?!" he bellowed, lashing out again, "I know a spell when I feel it!"

Winfred's face remained impassive. "You were boring me," She said in an indifferent tone that belonged to an older woman, "If I'm going to be fucked for two hours, I expect it not to be terrible."

With a shrug of her shoulders she sent the man toppling off her and rolling over the foot of the bed. She then sat up and massaged her mons, thankful to have some relief at last. The man rolled up to his feet and took up a fighting stance. Confusion covered his features, how could a helpless little girl have thrown him so easily?!

"I... I pay you! I should get what I want! It is not the place of some little whore to tell me how long I can fuck!"

Winfred remained impassive. She crawled off the bed and stood before him without any hint of anger, retribution, or even pain from her now-swelling cheek. Her emotionless eyes unnerved him further and he began to wonder if he should just leave now.

"I don't think you understand just how much your liberties will cost you." Winfred said, her eyes seeming to bore straight through him, "You may pay me, but I don't do this job just for your coin."

"T-t-the hells you say!" the man sputtered, "I paid your master! He said you were mine! I... I OWN you until my time is up!"

"No," Winfred said plainly, "I belong to my master. I am his to do with what he will. But if he does not tell me to lay still for you, I don't have to. You own nothing. Less in fact, since your coin and your seed are no longer even yours. I may decide if you are worth your coin to make me yours, and not you."

He sputtered nonsense at this, taken completely aback at her hollow, uncaring statement. Shaken, he did the only thing that his dazed mind could resort to. He lumbers forward and punched Winfred full in the face. Blood spurted from the corner of her mouth as her head snapped around. But she had seen it coming, having been struck too many times to count, and rolled with the blow. Twisting her waist, she bent over, to negate the force of the punch, and then used her well honed abdominal muscles to bring her standing straight once more.

"Your mistake," she said in that same passionless voice that came instead of anger.

The man jerked upright suddenly. His eyes rolled and his breathing intensified as pain shot through his back. Something behind him had struck, and it felt like claws.

"I see you are misusing mine and my apprentices' services." Said a cold, grating voice that whispered in his ear, "If your mother wasn't an unwashed peasant, perhaps she would have taught you the proper way to treat a woman. Not that I care about my little whore here, but, if she is injured or unable to work, I make no money. Now I am a fair man, you see, and I believe in learning from one's mistakes. However, I was also once a grand royal interrogator, and because of that, I believe you will be learning for a very... long... time."

With those words, the man knew no more. His body slumped forward, unconscious from the very venom that his anger bore. Still Hreugh's claws remained in his limp form's back, keeping him poised above the ground like a limp marionette.

"You!" Hreugh snapped at Winfred, "Clean yourself up and heal your face. But first drag this bastard to the basements and chain him up for me. I'll go through his things to pay us back for his time. After you are done, prepare us some food and make ready for the next customer."

With that, the old badger threw the limp man to the floor, licked at his bloodied claws, and swept from the room. Winfred sighed in disappointment that this encounter could not have gone better, but without any choice to disobey, she hefted the unconscious body easily to her shoulders. Her face betrayed no strain, having borne greater men than this one to Hreugh's dungeon on several occasions.

Light broke into the dark dungeon space carved deep beneath the streets of Trenton. Steady drips of foetid water kept the place uncomfortably humid. The smell of mold and infection billowed up to greet Winfred as she made her way inside.

There was some begging, she noticed with passing disinterest, as she made her way down to an open rack. The new arrivals never figured out the hopelessness of their situation until at least the second execution they witnessed. Somehow, watching one broken, twisted figure be agonized to insanity and death never made them despair. Indeed, often it made them think that they would be the one to escape. Why anyone would ever allow themselves to feel special... it boggled Winfred's magically altered mind.

By now, the pleas and taunts were just familiar background noise in Hreugh's dungeon. She did as she was told, strapping the poor idiot down to an empty rack and shackled his arms and legs. As a finishing piece, she added an enchanted strap around the man's head. A tiny, twisted silver spike was the only adornment this strap carried and it was centered upon the middle of the forehead. Knowing that this final binding was a standing order in preparing any of Hreugh's victims, Winfred slammed the heel of her palm into the nail-head, driving the spike into the man's skull.

He awoke in an instant, a scream of agony pouring from his lips as Winfred turned away and made for the door. The shrieks of pain and anguish followed her up the steps, but vanished into nothing as she closed the door behind her. The only testament to her witness glistened upon her cheek-fur.

The silence was almost haunting as Winfred ascended the stone steps back into the main hall. By the time she had reached the washroom she heard voices. Hreugh was talking to someone... most likely the next customer. She tried her best to listen in as she poured a measure of water into a bowl to wash herself with.

"Yes, she is the best you'll ever find. I trained her myself in the ways of prostitution." Hreugh boasted.

"And there is no chance that anyone will find this establishment... I don't want to be compromised." said the stranger.

"Completely off the records," Hreugh assured him, "I've cast the wards myself, and besides, you'll find her to be quite legal. She is still too young to bear children."

The stranger laughed, "Well, I'll be glad to pay what you ask. A man in my position and... looking as I do, can't be bothered with legal issues."

Winfred had barely cleaned the important parts and was just applying some balm to her sore labia when Hreugh bustled in.

"You..." Hreugh grunted excitedly, "Forget the food, we've got a live one here. Burned to a crisp by the looks of him and is willing to pay triple for you. You will be as courteous and attentive to him as you know how, understand?"

"Yes sir" Winfred said quickly.

"I want you ready and in the second room immediately. Do whatever he asks."

Then Hreugh swept out of the room, wringing his hands with greed and leaving Winfred to finish prepping.

As soon as she was ready she made her way into one of the bedrooms Hreugh had prepared. She sat on the edge of her bed and waited, letting her magically shrunken feet dangle over the side. A few feeble imaginings attempted to flit across her mind, though they all fizzled as quickly as they had begun. She only had a mind for sex and magic these days. Instead, she simply tried to picture what this person could possibly look like.

All her imaginings were dashed when the customer entered the room. She locked on to his scarred features immediately. Internally, Winfred was repulsed at the sight of him though she suppressed it as best she could. How could anyone have been so injured and still live?!

His entire face was the color of raw meat and flowed in a way that made her think of candle wax. He was, or had been at some point, one of the sheep-folk, though it was only barely recognizable. His horns were gone, cut off close to his head so that only bone-colored disks remained, and beneath them, his ears had been reduced to tiny nubs of scarred flesh. Whatever fire had taken him had also apparently burned away a lot of fat, leaving his features seemingly stretched over his skull. Only his pair of glistening golden eyes betrayed that he was truly alive and not some kind of walking corpse.

Winfred pulled her eyes away and focused instead on his manner of dress. She had seen a lot of soldiers over the last six... or seven years she had served Hreugh, but this was extravagant. He wore a gleaming breastplate that had a sheen like diamond, intricately worked into flutes and ridges that would turn away blows in the heat of combat. Beyond this, a short skirt of the same metal covered his thighs. Beyond this, his clothing seemed simple yet made of fine material. All of his clothing was black silk, his belt, his breeches, and his shirt, but not his gloves which were thick leather.

The wide eyed wolverine noticed why this sheep-man had deigned to wear heavy gauntlets like those, for from his waist hung possibly the largest sword Winfred had ever seen. Its handle was long enough that one hand rested against the pommel as casually as a fop might hold an ornate walking stick. The blade of the sword arched upward and leather straps connected the tip of the scabbard to the back of the armor. Finally, the scabbard itself seemed to be only a few strips of leather allowing, no doubt, this massive weapon to be drawn quickly.

The entire effect of this man was very intimidating, and in fact Winfred's suppressed emotions strained against their enchantments, hoping to warn her of the dangers. All Winfred could do was sit and stare, waiting naked for the man to remove his armor and ravish her. They stood, locked eye to eye for several minutes before he finally broke the silence.

"I am Wethers," a surprisingly smooth voice put plainly, "and I want to talk with you."

Winfred's heart couldn't help but leap at this. An easy mark, these rough looking soldier types were, but once they betrayed a heart of gold... it would be such easy work. He might not even fuck her, might not even touch her, if all he wanted was to talk. Then again... She was a little low on energy... she might let him do more than talk after all.

"You are not, I assume, as young as you look." the soft voice stated, "A spell binds you to that man, doesn't it."

Winfred's eyes widened at this. No one knew! In fact, Hreugh had never ever set safeguards in place for something like this. He had only ever told her to report her age as 'twelve' whenever she was asked.

"I... yes?" Winfred affirmed.

"Do you know the nature of the spell?" Wethers asked

"No" Winfred said instantly.

"I would like to look inside your mind," Wethers explained swiftly, "and afterward I shall set you free... if you wish it of course."

Winfred stared blankly at this. Since no fear or musing could encroach upon her mind she was left in a very unprepared state.

"For a guy who just wants to talk, you sure don't talk too much. Are we gonna do it or not?" She said reflexively, laying back upon the bed and spreading her legs to him.

Wethers heaved a huge sigh. Aaluran was not making this quest very easy this time. Enemies that he could dispatch with a sword and lost artifacts steeped in erotika were so simple, but "Free freely the unwilling whore, held by the torturing child of earth"? Well... he had found AN unwilling whore. This girl had been sequestered away, and the rumors of a girl that had mysteriously remained young for the last several years. Also, she was owned by the badger man, badgers being fine for the role of 'child of earth', though Wethers had suspected something like a mole-folk, dwarf, goblin, or even some sort of strange dirt-pixie over his months of searching. Unfortunately they had all either not been torturers or not kept a slave-whore.

But if the rumors he had heard were true, Hreugh's business success had been his downfall. Over many weeks, Wethers had freed the minds of many folk he had met in this city. Persuading these freed minds to give up their secrets was usually quite easy once the insidious enchantments had been removed. They told him of a man, Hreugh, who looked similar to a famous interrogator last seen over a decade previous. They told of his prostitute, a young girl with much older eyes, whom he had trained in the sexual arts. And most damning of all were the rumors that some customers, strangers all, had never emerged from his cavernous pleasure-den.

Wethers knew he must be on the right track. What still troubled him was this: how does one get someone who doesn't have their own opinion to want to be free? He couldn't force freedom upon her, that would be hypocritical and tantamount to tyranny by itself. But if she had_wanted_ to be this way, then she had already made her own decisions. Worst of all, Wethers just wasn't sure how old this girl was! She could be a vain old lady who gave herself freely to this man!

The scarred sheep-man pondered his duties. Being a soldier of freedom had become very complicated in recent years, but at least he knew he chose it freely. He sighed; the golden mask had always shown him what to do in the past. It was Aaluran him/herself that had saved him when he was an inch from death. But the burden of responsibility that his god(dess) had placed upon him... well there were always consequences for actions, free or not. But as he pondered the golden mask and his task at hand, a thought occurred.

He could do it!

Suddenly he knew! The hermaphroditic mask had shown him the way through the dilemma! There were always at least two sides to everything. He would give this girl a taste of freedom. Free her long enough to consider her own mind and decide if he wanted it! Then, when and if she desired true freedom, he would grant it and complete his task! He wasn't imposing his will on the girl; he was forestalling the tyranny that he would soon end. He could feel it, this was the correct path.

"Well," Wethers began, "since I have your services for now. I would like you to look me in the eyes. That is all for now. We will talk in a moment. From then on, we will see where things go."

The gaze of the woman-child reached his. Winfred's eyes remained steady on the oddly shaped golden orbs before her. She could swear that she saw something in them... beyond them. She stared harder, hoping to resolve the thing hidden within this strange deformed man's eyes. He was saying something, but she could not hear it, though after each word the image in his eyes became clearer.

It was a prisoner, someone she recognized... someone... her father!

No.

No, it couldn't be her father, for it was clearly a female, but it was not her mother either. She just didn't know... couldn't comprehend. It seemed so familiar this imprisoned woman, and yet Winfred was sure she had never seen her before. There was something else... another figure in front of the prisoner. A child? Yes, that was it. She looked barely old enough to be named. But she wasn't in front of the prisoner... she was... inside?

Winfred shook her head, it made no sense!

But, as her head shook to and fro, something rose from within her. Buried for seven long years, the things within emerged. Repressed desires, ponderings, musings, childhood memories or carefree days. All these things erupted to the surface of Winfred's mind. They immediately pushed aside Hreugh's commands and too their rightful places within her mind.

And then, just as suddenly, so to came the beast. It boiled forth as a bottle of ink opened under clear water. The rage, left un-quenched and simmering for seven long years returned. Instincts for survival reared to life and the beast smelled the musty scent of its tormentor.

Cold, predatory eyes flicked across the room, hoping to spot the hated aggressor that dared challenge the beast, but those eyes only fell upon an unfamiliar face.

A face that showed as much pain as the beast had ever felt.

The beast slackened.

"Where is he?" demanded Winfred in a harsh, grating tone that did not belong to the body it came from. "He hurt me, stole me away. No one hurts me like that and lives."

If Wethers felt any fear at this, he didn't show it. His scarred face remained unmoved, his eyes locked upon the transformed wolverine before him.

Suddenly, Winfred rushed him, grabbing him up by the collar of his cloak and dragging his face to hers with surprising strength.

"I said WHERE IS HE?!"

"He is not available to you just now." Wethers stated plainly, "but if you truly want what you think you do, I would suggest you listen to me. Otherwise, you will possibly lose him forever."

Her grip loosened, but Wethers kept his face to hers.

"I have been sent by my deity to find you." Wethers said softly and firmly, "I was sent to set you free from the man who has kept you hostage and made you into a prostitute. My god is one of freedom, love, and passion. Just so, your unwilling sexual servitude is a blasphemy in hir eyes. I have given you your mind back that you may tell me of your situation and decide for yourself whether or not you truly wish freedom, not for revenge, but for a chance to truly live. So come, tell me your story, for you have but an hour."