FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The air was stuffy and humid within the confines of the sackcloth bag over his head. It was coarse on his snout and made a chore out of every breath. The smallest movements tousled his muzzle fur. Not that there was anything, in particular, to look at, or pay attention to, wherever the hell he was. There was only silence, warmth on his bare fur, and an annoying itch where the remnants of his ragged breeches were digging into his groin. He was grateful they gave him anything at all, but the pants weren't really his. He could tell they were cut for a much smaller male, from the way they were crushing his privates. Not that he could do anything about it at the moment, as his arms, just as his legs, had been shackled, forcing him to stand astride, his body stretched into spread-eagle position.

He woke up like this, some good hour earlier. Or a quarter earlier. There was no way of telling time really, not in his predicament, and testing the irons proved to be a one time only entertainment. Strong as he was, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Letting his arms sag in his chains, he kept his routine of clenching and unclenching fists once in a while, to keep the blood pumping.

How long was it, since they had been taken? A month? Probably so. It was hard enough to keep track of days, especially at first, at the dragon castle. The cells had been underground there, but they had to spend at least a couple of days in the dungeons. Yet, not a single question had been asked. It would have been odd since the dragons seemed to knew very well who they were, but then again... the white dragon barely spared him and the guys a single glance. He was only interested in the captain. Shackled, ragged and with defiance, sharp in his eyes, that's how they had seen Emett for the last time. Later that day (or maybe night) screams and painful moans were echoing in the dungeons. They couldn't have known if it was the captain, but they sure hoped not.

It was at least four times when he and the guys had to endure listening to those horrid auditions. Nobody was saying anything, all of them silently fearing the same fate was upon them. Back then the slavers' tour around the dungeons felt like a small liberation.

Now though, as the wolf heard the approaching steps and muffled conversation, his feelings were quite different. But at least, he figured, the waiting was over.

"...telling you, you'll be singing quite a different song when the turnaround from that one comes."

That voice he recognized immediately. The slaver, the hyena who bought him from the dragons.

"Shall we have a look then?" Said the other one, quite distinguished, feline-like. Then the lock clicked and the world outside the sack lit up, the wolf could easily tell that much.

Silence followed, though the bound lupine felt eyes on him. He didn't even budge, letting his body sag from his shackles, breathing slowly, steadily. Now the sack was his advantage, covering his ears cupping forward, attentive and greedy for any words, any scrap of information.

"Wasn't blindfold enough? You can barely breath in this weather without a sack on your head."

"He kept tugging and rolling it up from his eyes, while we rode here," explained the slaver. It was true. Whatever could have helped him find out where he was going, it was worth it.

"Did he see anything?"

"Nothing important. Anyway, what do you think?"

"Let me have a closer look, my friend."

Then the supposed feline approached and the wolf could feel his presence before him, as much as he could see the figure shadowing the strange, white light in the room.

"Are you awake, my lupine friend?" Asked the man. Yes, definitely a feline. The wolf didn't answer.

"Nevertheless, you will be in a second," added the cat and he felt nimble fingers working on the rope around his neck that held the sack in place. After a couple of tugs, it let go and off went the obstructive piece of cloth.

The light made him squint, but the touch of air felt good on his damp muzzle fur. Finally, he could take a full, solid breath in. After a moment, he opened his eyes to the well-lit interior. With no windows, and no candles. What the fuck?! The walls are shining! The words shot through his mind as if that would lower the absurdity of such a concept. Did they drug him?! But then, it wasn't a delusion. He saw the light a moment before, even from under the sack. There were indeed several bricks in the walls that seemed to be made of the sun itself, spreading the daylight across the room. It looked almost as if they were outside, in the open. Wherever the hell was the outside. He managed to calm himself down, if only slightly, and then he caught a glimpse of the hyena slaver in the back of the room before the short male in front of him caught his attention. He had been right in his suspicions.

The cat was exotic, to say the least. While way shorter than the shackled wolf, the slim male was impossible to overlook. The upper mask of tawny fur turned white on his short muzzle and throat. And his markings... must have been the most sophisticated tangle of black stripes, spots, dots, and smudges. As if somebody tried to paint him as he was running by. There weren't many of them in the wolf kingdom, but the wolf knew what he was. An ocelot. Strangely enough, he couldn't smell him.

He was dressed rather simple, with a brown leather jerkin with cut sleeves, over a simple white shirt and beige, linen pants. He looked almost like a pariah, compared to the well-armored slaver.

Only then the wolf noticed he was also being measured right at that moment. The cat was sweeping his yellow eyes over his bound body. There was contentment in that soft smile that appeared on his muzzle.

"Hello there, my beautiful friend," the cat greeted him politely. It felt odd, though. Was it the southern custom to compliment... but then he realized. He was bought after all.

"Who... w-who are you?" He rasped, with his throat dry and tingling. It made him cough in an instant, to which that strange feline reacted quickly.

"Here, poor fellow, quench your thirst," proposed the male, nearly shoving a wineskin into his muzzle. The wolf never remembered being so grateful for a drink. He gulped the beverage, greedy for every drop, although still, red streams of the pretty fine liquor trickled down his muzzle all the way to his chest and stomach. It was a bit embarrassing, but his benefactor thoughtfully ensured him not to worry.

Once the lupine felt he could no longer keep at it without a breather, he relented, gasping, enjoying the sour aftertaste and the warmth radiating from his gullet. He could feel himself somewhat reinvigorated, so he let himself straighten up, grabbing the chains that held him and taking some weight off of his wrists.

"Didn't you let him drink?" The feline asked his companion, incredulous, while he set the wine on a small table aside. There was a sizeable, steaming bowl there, as well, but it was hard to tell what was in it. It didn't smell.

"Ahhh... we did, but it might be my fault," explained the hyena. "Our last stop was indeed pretty long ago when I think about it now."

"Please, accept my apologies for that," the cat turned back to him. "We didn't mean to mistreat you, my friend."

"And by we you mean...?" He asked.

"Ah, that's correct. Now, that you are in somewhat better shape it would be the right time for introductions." Assessed the feline vigorously. "You already know my companion in business, Maskim, and I'm Javal," he bowed slightly to that. "You will be my guest for the time being."

We will see about that, thought the wolf.

"Is this a custom of hospitality in the South, then?" he asked, tugging at his shackles and looking down at Javal.

"Nothing important?" He quipped, obviously referring to Maskim's words earlier.

"I'm not an idiot," the wolf interjected. "Don't need my eyes to sense the directions. Or smell desert sands. Not mentioning the scorch."

"That's true, indeed," chuckled the ocelot. "You must forgive me underestimating your wits, my lupine friend. I was led to believe, you were a soldier."

"Not all of them are stupid."

"Were you one then?"

The wolf only stared at Javal, giving him the best of his unreadable expressions. The past tense in the cat's question didn't slip his attention.

"Alright then," chuckled the cat and smirked at him. "No. You're not. I don't think so, at least. But to answer your concerns, you must forgive us the precautions. I assure you, I will let you off that cross in a bit. As soon as we're all confident that things don't turn rather messy, once I do, anyway. You are one, big wolf, my friend. You can at least share your name with us, can't you?"

It couldn't put him at a greater disadvantage than he already was at. And he desired to get on the good side of his captors. The feline, Javal, stroke him as a reasonable, mature man, probably in his forties. Something to be exploited.

"It's Vidar."

"Splendid," commended the cat. "This name suits you fine, Vidar. Very masculine. And, when we are at that, please, excuse my forwardness..."

With one motion, as casual as a handshake, the ocelot reached to his waist and pulled the tattered breeches down his thighs, baring his furry sheath and balls to the world.

He could have expected it... truth be told, he did. After the questioning he had gone through with Maskim, back in the dragons' dungeons... and then, after what the hyena did to him later... nevertheless, once the warm air of the room embraced his groin, Vidar felt the blood rushing to his face. Inadvertently he darted his eyes aside, anywhere really, just not to look at the intrusive feline.

"Well...?" Urged the hyena from the back. There was an unmistakable hint of amusement in his voice.

"Excellent," breathed the feline, nodding in approval.

Vidar wasn't unused to such reactions. He was well aware of what his body was. Under whatever lucky star he was born, it was apparent that nature didn't skimp him anywhere, and all he had been given, he amplified through the years in his training and line of work. Barely a couple of weeks from his enrollment captain Emett spotted him during drills. He and the guys were fooling around really, as prince Regnar had made a visit to the barracks that day, demanding to wrestle with them. Somewhat frowned upon by nobility, such behaviors were what bought the prince the eternal love amongst the common soldiers. That day Vidar had been the only one capable of holding his own against the black wolf, and that landed him quickly under the care of captain Emmet. In an eye bat, he was the muscles of his spy squad.

Those muscles now were what the feline went after. The touch on his abs made him suck up instinctively as if he could escape the invasive hand. The cat stroked across Vidar's taut stomach, letting his digits comb through his unkempt, greasy fur, tugging at all the tangles. Normally pearly white, it went dirty yellow from lack of hygiene. It's been a month, at least... they never let him clean properly, and it never ceased bothering him how dirty and musky he felt. He could smell himself all the time now, and the odor was unpleasant, to say the least. It made him feel uneasy way more than being stripped, to be seen and touched in this shabby state.

It couldn't have been pleasant for the cat, either. But then there he was, with his hand descending that thick happy trail of longer fur from his navel, lower and lower... the clawed digits trailed to the very spot, where the thick fur split in two, framing his hefty sheath. Javal spread his fingers and then, Vidar tensed, as he felt the delicate palm wrapping around him, pulling the skin down, baring his maleness to the air.

The wolf huffed, smelling his musk growing strong in the air. But it was just a second, just a glimpse and a murr of approval from the feline molesting him, before that palm let him go, his sheath closing back around his member in an instant. It left him agitated, grinding his teeth to not let the angry growl out. He had been suspecting it was going to be like that... ever since the embarrassing and way too intimate interrogation with Maskim, at dragons', he had little doubts about what he was bought for. But nothing truly could have prepared him for the reality. Him, a sex slave?! He could feel his throat tightening at the very notion. Like some criminal scum! But then again... that's what he was in dragons' eyes.

"We will have to trim this groin fur short. Permanently," decided Javal caressing the wolf's belly. Vidar reluctantly looked down to see the feline hand going over his fur with slow movements. For worse, it did feel pleasant. Pleasant enough to wake the smallest stirs in his loins.

"Oh... I thought this longer fur there was rather appealing," said hyena.

"It is. However, I have specific requirements to follow."

"Are you going to use..."

"Yes, it will do."

Maskim chuckled.

"Well, I guess if you can change coat patterns with it, why not length..."

"Exactly, my dear. But other than that," said Javal, reaching out to fondle the wolf's balls, "he is perfect. Or will be, once we're done with cleansing."

"Don't even get me started," grimaced Maskim, waving his hand in front of his muzzle. "I'm getting out of here."

Vidar's ears folded back in reflex. Did they really need to discuss that so openly? It's not like he could do anything about it!

"Will you stay the night?" The ocelot turned to Maskim.

"Won't you be rather busy?"

"It's too late to start today. We'll just go through the basics. I should be up in..." Javal turned to examine the wolf, "two hours, perhaps."

"I will prepare the bath then," grinned the slaver.

"I guess I will be in need of one for myself," sighed Javal.

And then, with a chuckle, the hyena was gone.

There was more going on between the two males, that much was quite obvious. Vidar didn't like how fast the vision of them in the nude, going at it, jumped into his mind. That's what you got depriving a man in his twenties of his daily relief... Thankfully the cat decided to leave his balls alone before the familiar tingling grew in strength anything more.

Javal returned to the table and dipped his hands in the steaming contents, undoubtedly to get rid of all the grime he collected feeling up the wolf. After a moment of scrubbing, he wiped himself with a piece of cloth hanging from the hook in the wall.

Then he produced a dark glove from his pocket. The leather was smooth and black and filled out perfectly when the cat pulled it on his hand. A fine work, but then, when Javal approached him again, Vidar saw that was an understatement. The surface of the leather was covered in symbols he had never seen before. They looked ancient, alien, but there was some kind of order in how they were placed around this strange piece of apparel, tracing along every finger, and on the downside and the top of the glove. They looked metallic as if etched in the leather. He couldn't even name the colors of those symbols, as they jumped from coppery to silver in a second, reflecting the light and making his eyes hurt.

"What is it?" He asked, frowning, his tone demanding despite wariness.

"The glove?"

"No, the cloth on the hook. What do you think?"

The ocelot chuckled, just in time the symbols started glowing with their own light. He had already seen his fair share of weird and awful things and situations as a spy, but this room with glowing walls and this glove with glowing symbols... he wasn't far from freaking out.

"Mister Vidar, there's no need for concern," the ocelot hurried with an explanation, seeing how agitated the wolf was.

"What are you doing with it?"

"I need to feel your energy."

"Ain't you a flirt..."

"Easy," chuckled the feline, reaching up for the wolf's forehead. Vidar tilted back in an instant, but there was only so far he could strain his neck.

"You will only feel a slight tingling crawling over your body. Try to relax."

"I always do, shackled naked to a cross, in some pervert's basement," he snapped.

"It's not a basement. Now shush!"

The smooth leather touched the unkempt fur on the top of his head. The sensation was warm and unreal. The current of jolts shot through his spine, tingling indeed. It didn't hurt, although the wolf could feel his heart racing at the weird sensation. The uncomfortable tingling traveled through his system, seemingly mapping all the nerves and every fiber of his muscles. He could feel his muzzle contorting, beyond his control. But the worst was his groin, practically buzzing with jolts of crawling numbness from his abdomen to the very tip of his dormant shaft inside its sheath. He was huffing, trying to endure it, tossing his head around to break the connection. But it seemed once the glove made contact with his forehead, it stuck to it, and the cat had no trouble in maintaining their contact.

"Nghhhh!" Groaned the wolf through his clenched teeth. "It's enough!"

"A little more."

"N-no! ENOUGH!"

"A little more," insisted Javal, his tone determined.

Every second was too much as Vidar found the sensations more and more uncomfortable, but at least the ocelot kept true to his words and finally relented.

The lupine sagged in his shackles, letting the last flickering sparks die down in his body, as his limbs trembled, his muscles raw and irritated.

As he panted, regaining his breath, Vidar could feel the growl waking inside him. The dam didn't hold for long.

"What the hell was that?!" he snarled at the ocelot.

The feline wasn't particularly impressed with his outburst.

"As I mentioned, I had to check your energies."

"What the fuck does that even mean?!" He growled, scowling at Javal. "I've been in captivity for weeks! I'm hungry, I stink and I'm naked and humiliated, and just been sold out for slavery for all I know! What do you think my damn energies are?!"

If felt good to spat it all out. Huffing, he held the cat's gaze waiting for some kind of answer. Javal's expression was nigh unreadable. He simply stood there, carefully taking off his mysterious glove.

"You have every reason to be angry, mister Vidar," he finally said with a nod. "And are quite right about your... self-evaluation, might I add. I have no doubts you've been mistreated these days since you've been captured and I'm very sorry you had to go through all of that. If this is of any solace to you, I assure you, you will be provided with more proper accommodations. We need you thriving and as you are, your aura is rotten. Anger. Frustration... no good for our purposes."

"What purposes? What are you doing with me here?"

"Patience, my lupine friend. In due time, I will answer your questions. You will see no harm, that I can assure you of," said the cat. "For now, let me alleviate your distress."

Energies? Was it magic? It had to be. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Javal was extremely polite and on the first look, seemed very honest. Vidar might not have been an expert at reading people, but certain skills came with being a spy, whether you were a muscle of the squad or an infiltrator. And it didn't take a genius to figure out the cat wasn't going to share any details any soon. They don't want me to panic, so I cooperate, he thought. It was a basic approach, one wouldn't even call it a strategy. He wasn't in dragons' hands anymore, and clearly, his captors didn't know, nor they cared who he was. And that made cooperating the best choice. Until the opportunity arrived... It was a thing to be planned later, he decided.

Without losing his polite smile, the feline took one of the wooden stools beside the table. He carried it over to the wolf and soon followed with the steaming bowl he brought earlier. Only now the wolf caught a glimpse. It looked like water, and he could easily make out the symbols in the bowl. Glowing. Just like the glove. Although hopes rose in him seeing the steaming water, the perspective of enduring more of the similar treatment as with the glove wasn't thrilling at all, as far as he and all his energies were concerned.

"What is it?" He asked, warily.

"I expected you would appreciate a bath..." Javal looked at him, somewhat quizzical.

"The symbols. It's it, isn't it? Magic..."

The ocelot raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

"You know about magic, then?"

"I know of magic. Stayed the hell away from it. Until now..."

"Fair enough," Javal smiled, picking up the cloth from the hook. Quickly it went into the bowl, drinking the water greedily.

"Those symbols are runes, to be exact," he explained. "I guess for most people, magic could be anything they don't have a clue about. As long as I am in my profession, I started to consider this more as technology, than magic. But then again," he added, seeing Vidar's unconvinced expression, "in essence, yes, it is magic... ah, let's get those out of the way."

The wolf followed the cat's gaze down his body. He must have meant the shreds of pants still hanging sadly around his knees. He didn't get a chance to protest before a small dagger appeared in the feline's hands and in a swift swipe, finished were the linen tatters, leaving Vidar entirely exposed. It wasn't much at this point, yet he immediately felt so much more vulnerable. With him having nothing more to hide from the ocelot, his mind hunted for distractions.

Unexpectedly, Javal delivered one himself, as he disrobed, leaving only his pants on. While nowhere near leanness of the youngs' anymore, the ocelot's torso kept every bit of the innate feline grace and shape, with a subtle touch of muscle. This kind of body came from every day's work rather than from the blessings of youthful metabolism. And stirred thoughts and sensation's in Vidar's loins that he definitely wasn't seeking right now.

"Magical bowl? What for?" He shot, turning his eyes at the utensil in question.

"Oh, this is a rather innocent, practical device. It will keep the water warm and sanitized, so I don't have to refill it over and over."

"Just a bath? Or is this water going to shock the fuck out of me or set me on fire?"

"What a morbid vision, mister Vidar," snickered the cat. "We wouldn't want that at all."

"Certainly. And what would we want?"

"Right now for you to relax, my wolf friend, and enjoy your bath," offered the feline, smiling.

Whatever determination to press with the questions he had, it melted away when the cat wrung the cloth over his head. The water was bordering on too hot, but he dreamed of nothing less. Steaming streams trickled down his head and neck, making his skin itch as the water traveled over his chest and back. The sensation was almost foreign. He could have very well spent the last couple of years, not weeks, without a proper bath. Javal didn't scant him the water as he dipped the cloth in the bowl and wrung it on him again, repeating this routine, until there was no dry spot on Vidar.

With water though, came the stench putting that of the proverbial wet dog's to shame. Vidar could see how the feline battled the reflex to not wrinkle his muzzle in disgust. Although somewhat grateful for the gesture, he could smell himself very well. The wolf's ears folded down in embarrassment.

"No need to be ashamed, my friend," said the cat, smiling politely. "We will have you clean in no time."

And he did keep true to his words.

After the glowing walls and the magic bowl it shouldn't have been so impressive, but when the ocelot produced a brownish cube in his hands, it might have been pure gold just as well.

The soap smelled strongly of lemons and sweet flag, and once Javal dipped his foamy palms in the wolf's fur, it felt as if gods themselves touched him. It didn't even take a minute of the cleansing massage, and the first sigh escaped Vidar's muzzle. Maybe it was just how mistreated his body and fur were, or maybe Javal knew very well what he was doing with his hands... he didn't care. The treatment, surprisingly strong for fingers so nimble, was a blessing. His entire body was resonating under the caresses that would normally have his nerves on edge, but this time... he just couldn't give a damn. So what if he was bound and naked? He would still be, even without the bath.

The feline started with his head. That brought their muzzles close together, and the touch, although not as invasive as on his privates mere minutes before, was intimate and uncomfortable. As the cat's fingers rubbed his forehead, temples, and cheeks, he felt his muzzle burning up despite the circumstances. It was easier to close his eyes and let Javal do his job. He caught the subtle, knowing grin, but otherwise, the cat didn't acknowledge his embarrassment.

Soon the scrubbing descended and down his neck made way to his pectorals. There, the cat let his claws extend. Vidar gasped, as they raked through his fur, digging deep to his skin. It felt as if through it, a whole layer of it was being shedded, the crust of filth and squalor giving up under the rough, cleansing treatment. The lupine kept sighing, unable to hold it in.

"Don't hold back, mister Vidar, let it all out," encouraged him the cat. And, although extremely ashamed of the whiny sighs escaping him, he did, accepting his vulnerability and utter exposure to the other male.

In time, his back got the same treatment, the cleansing indeed putting him in a somewhat relaxed state, as if it wasn't just about the filth anymore. The stress and uncertainty, although still there, dissolved in the aroma of lemons and sweet flag that quickly replaced the gut-wrenching reek coming from his body. As his canine nose was relieved of that, he reveled in the burning tenderness of his anew, clean skin. With his eyes still closed, in his mind, Vidar tracked Javal's every movement. There was an established routine in the way the feline was handling his body. The touch was strong, meant business, but at the same time, the feline's moves were stalled, caressing. Appreciative, even, on his biceps and thighs; careful, when tending to his tail.

In the back of his mind, Vidar knew it was approaching, and with every minute the thought ripened in him and his heart was beating faster and faster. And then, a heavy grunt echoed in the chamber, as one hand slipped under his tail. The was no single moment in his life when he went THAT tense. The cat wasn't shying from any orifice. Vidar would have been glad to die then and there out of sheer embarassment. For his benefit, Javal didn't even make a sound and went on for a good while, forcing the wolf's body to give in. A whine, a groan and a sigh of relief followed when the cat rinsed his palms in the bowl.

They quickly returned to his belly, to finish the job, every small movement tickling and stirring the spark in Vidar's loins. Barely his ears splayed flat on his head, and already the swift fingers were enveloping his swollen sheath.

"I see my ministrations did have an effect on you," chuckled Javal. And then, with delicate, yet firm motion, the cat had that effect revealed.

The touch was purposeful, meant to clean, but the young wolf couldn't stop himself. Not after so long. As soon as the warm, gentle fingerpads slid along his length, the lupine huffed, feeling himself hardening further. It felt almost cruel when after a couple of strokes, those fingers left him and moved down to tend to his full balls. It was too late to draw back though, the blood was pumping, and his shaft was growing! Vidar choked down the whine arising in his throat, in effect letting out a sound even more pitiful. The ocelot chuckled, fondling his balls. Or was he washing them for him?

"Be patient my wolf, I will help you out, I promise."

At this point, damned be the shame, he huffed, his growing cock flexing with anticipation. He needed that! His pride felt like a lump in his stomach, angering him. How could he lust after the touch of that man that held him captive, like some animal?! But what was he going to do? Deny the helping hand? It was a goddamn month! Or more... He needed that.

The water couldn't come quick enough for the wolf then. As hot streams rushed through his fur, flushing down all the remaining filth and soap, he couldn't think of anything else. Every minute dragged on, with Javal rubbing him with the cloth several times as if he was stalling on purpose. You can do it AFTER! He thought, angry and impatient. He almost said it, embarrassing himself even further. But the feline was thorough and only after the last flush of clean water trickling down the wolf's muscular legs, did he set the bowl aside, standing before him.

Vidar looked down at the ocelot, huffing. It was impossible to feel this aroused!

Javal smiled, admiring the sight and spoke up, his tone entirely different for the first time.

"You are a gorgeous specimen, my friend," he said and approached the wolf. The gentle digits traced along the crevices of his abdomen. "Impressive in all the right places. Just as we need you to be."

"P-please, just... do it," uttered the wolf in response.

The ocelot chuckled.

"Yes, you are right. Now, having this beauty called forth in its entirety," he murmured, enveloping his fingers around the wolf's swollen shaft, "let's make sure, we dispose of all that foul energy. It's spoiling your aura."

Saying that the ocelot dropped down to his knees before the wolf.

He hated himself for that, oh gods knew he hated himself for that. But the sight of the beautiful cat's muzzle under his engorged shaft made him giddy with arousal... and made not giving a damn about his energies and auras very easy.

Javal nuzzled his churning balls, making his way up to his knot. The bulge at the root of his wolfhood was already almost at its full size and it throbbed in sync with his heartbeat. The cat grasped the tapered tip, circling it with his fingers. The sensations were overwhelming, and with a shudder, Vidar felt a spasm in his loins, a spasm that shot a copious stream of pre over the ocelot's muzzle and fingers. The cat let them roam around his urethra, his textured fingerpads picking up the moisture.

Vidar groaned lustfully, as he felt the nimble digits slide down his shaft, slickening the crimson red wolfhood with the warm moisture.

"So eager. So frustrated..." whispered the cat. "I barely touched you, yet here you are, hard and eager."

He then delved down, and slowly, sensually, dragged his tongue over the underside of Vidar's needy cock.

The lupine felt every muscle in his body strain with anticipation. The feline's tongue caressing him was like liquid fire, boiling the blood in his veins. His hands strained, pulling at his shackles with the force that could find no vent, other than through release. There was nothing he wanted more at this moment.

"I don't need the glove to feel how you are starving for pleasure," murmured Javal, echoing his thoughts. "Enjoy yourself, mister Vidar."

The hot muzzle enveloped his tip slowly, gradually. A shuddering moan tore out of his throat with force, as Javal let his moist lips slide down his throbbing erection. The bound wolf grabbed his chains, his strong hands curling into fists around them. With every inch of his member slowly entering that tight muzzle, he felt the spurs in his loins gaining strength, and the heat growing with it.

His hips shuddered and spasmed, thrusting forward into the inviting heat of Javal's muzzle, craving more. The cat was ready though and didn't choke on the sizeable girth, as the wolf's tip entered his throat. The young lupine moaned lustfully and looked down. It seemed like the short-muzzled feline wasn't going to be able to take much more than half his length, but the ocelot quickly made up for it, bringing up his nimble hands. His fingers enveloped the rest of his member, with one set entirely dedicated for his knot.

The wolf whined lustfully as he felt the caress on his bulbous flesh. Delicate at the start, the feline steadily kept raising the pressure on his knot, and at the same time drew back with his head. The rough, sandpapery texture of his tongue was like sweet torture on the underside of his leaking canine cock. The sensation made him desperate, and thankfully, Javal saved him any more suffering, quickly taking him back in, back into that heavenly warmth.

Javal was taking his sweet time, savoring the smooth texture of the wolf's maleness and his salty precum, but with minutes passing, he was letting himself go faster. As they fell into a rhythm, slick, wet sounds filled the room, broken by the unending serenade of whines and moans coming from Vidar's muzzle. Ashamed of himself, yet too aroused and desperate to pay attention, the wolf humped forward, seeking the edge, closer with every minute.

The rough tongue swirled around his tip, mixing saliva with his precum. It was warm, wet, wild and wonderful. The edge was there, so close, yet the cat expertly made the way drag on. Each following movement was slower, lighter on his flesh. It took his clouded mind a while to figure out the cat's game.

"Come oooon!" The wolf growled through his teeth, at which Javal stopped to look him in the eyes.

"I wondered if you'd notice," the ocelot smiled at him, panting a little bit from the exercise. "Please, forgive me for wanting to enjoy it for a bit longer. You are exquisite, here, between your legs," he admitted, stroking Vidar's length delicately.

"J-just... let me cum," uttered the wolf, feeling his muzzle heat-up even more. "I can't stand it anymore!"

"Let it out then, my lupine friend. Let out all this tainted energy."

The cat then grasped his knot firmly, and kneeled aside, letting his other hand pick up where his muzzle left. Vidar gasped as the ocelot closed his fingers around him. The hand slid along his slick length with ease. Although not nearly as hot and textured as Javal's muzzle and tongue, the upper grip the cat applied carried entirely different pressure and sensations with it. In a minute, Javal had the young wolf panting and moaning in his shackles, shuddering with lust.

"Now... my boy," he purred, speeding up his movements. Now he was really masturbating the wolf. "Hump my hand. Hump, boy, and cum for me."

It was new, patronizing and degrading... yet, he didn't care. It only made him want it more! A desperate whine escaped his muzzle as the cat's fingers closed tightly behind his knot, just where he needed. His hips bucked furiously. Once, twice, and with a growl, with all his muscles straining in his shackles, and his hefty balls tightening up, his desperate, knotted dick spasmed and erupted in Javal's firm grip, shooting across the room. One month's worth load of wolf cum splashed on the floor in numerous strands. Every spasm and throb of his cock were robbing him of last bits of consciousness, instead, pouring searing pleasure into his body. And it screamed in ecstasy, every fiber of his muscles twitching in effort and bliss for those precious several dozens of seconds, before slowly diminishing, as the stroking started to slow down and with it, the power of his shots and amount of semen he was letting out.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually, the sweet afterglow came onto him and superseded the dying orgasm. The most powerful he ever had in his young life. He sagged in his bindings, letting his powerful arms bear the weight of his spent body. Gasping for breath, with his eyes closed, he silently thanked Javal for giving him the release he craved. He would face his shame and regrets when he had the strength for it.

Minutes flew by, and with his mind devoid of any thoughts he just... was. Subconsciously, he could hear the cat bustling about doing something, but he wasn't paying it too much attention. Then, suddenly, he felt a cold touch around his neck and with a silent click, his eyes shot open.

"Wha-? What was that?" He blinked, trying to look down to get a sight of the thing around his neck.

"I apologize for the collar," said Javal, with a formality rather ridiculous, considering what just happened. "It has binding runes around. It will take a while, but once they imprint into your body, we can get rid of it."

"Binding runes? W-what? What does it mean?"

"I have to make sure you won't harm me, or try to escape once I let you out of those shackles."

"And how does that work?"

"Well, magic, of course," answered Javal, "I will happily tell you more about it if you wish, but not right now. I only ask you to be cooperative and not test its' capabilities. In comparison, you will find yourself quickly missing the glove. I'm afraid the next piece will be much more troublesome for you."

Before Vidar could as much as open his mouth to ask, the cat placed the thing on the table.

"It should be big enough, I had it made with rather expectant measures..." said Javal, eyeing Vidar's still hard cock. "You shouldn't feel any discomfort."

As he took a glance at the shining metal object, it didn't take long for the wolf to put pieces together. The realization raised his hackles in an instant.

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"It's necessary, my dear. There are certain energies in a man's body, that can be utilized. Once stored properly, to let them rise, that is. Lust is very potent."

"It's," he stammered, incredulous. "Then-... Then why did you let me..." He couldn't believe what he was hearing! What the hell was going on here?!

"Tainted. You've been in a lot of stress these recent weeks. It wouldn't be of much use for me," explained the cat.

"Use for what?" Growled Vidar, testing his shackles once again. "How am I not in stress right now? A dungeon is a dungeon! What's the difference?!"

"Oh, a great deal of difference, I assure you."

With these words, the ocelot turned away from him and left the room, taking the bowl with him. Vidar didn't get to see much through the open doors, just the wall in the next room, or corridor.

Alone, he was left to his own thoughts, and it didn't take too long, before inadvertently, he engaged in an odd, unsettling stare-down with the chastity cage, leering at him from the table.

With every passing minute, the voluminous mix of his spilled seed and the dirty, murky remains of his bath, were flowing down the drainage in the floor. Just like that, the joy and rush of his incredible orgasm were seeping out of him as well. Soon there was nothing left, other than resentment and rage. Barely he had his itch scratched, there was the promise of the new one already on the horizon. Cage? A cage?! It was sick! ...but it was also happening to him, he had no doubts.

A good half an hour passed before Javal returned, still donning only his pants.

"Ah, I see you are ready for your cage," greeted him the cat, his courteous, matter-of-factly tone back in its place.

Indeed, in his time alone, the wolf's big maleness had softened, the view of the cage disturbingly helping with this process, until it hid back in his sheath, as if obediently accepting its fate.

Vidar didn't respond, nor did he spare the bastard a single glance. Well-mannered and kind as he was, in the wolf gone was any sympathy the feline had earned before.

"I understand your discontent, my friend, but you are not here for your pleasure, I'm afraid," the feline calmly stated the obvious. "However misleading the first impression might have been, that is... Anyway, let's not waste more time."

The cage proved to be ideally measured. At least if Vidar was to agree with the ocelot. He definitely had a different opinion on that. The way the steel ring keeping the cage in place was pushing his balls forward, outlining their ovals in his furry sack... he never expected he could feel more exposed than he already was, especially with the cage coming on, yet, there he was. The metal sealed around him with a simple touch and a short glint. More runes, he noticed. There was no key, which didn't improve the situation one bit. The cage felt tight, although at least he had about half an inch of leeway between the tip of his sheath and its new metal prison. But he was far from treating this observation as a positive of any sort. He had wanted it gone even before the ocelot put it on him, and now... he was barely keeping his fury at bay.

"It takes some getting used to, but soon enough you will learn to forget it's even there," assured Javal.

The same will go for the knife I will drive through your fucking skull, thought the wolf, clenching his teeth.

In stark contrast to his thoughts, the feline reached up and actually released the wolf's hands from the shackles, one after another. While he stood there, rubbing his wrists, his hands numb from being forced up for so long, Javal unshackled his legs as well.

It was very sudden, but not at all surprising, that he thought about kicking the feline right then. With the cage secured on him, there was no point in even trying. Vidar also found himself actually believing the feline about the collar. If there were a time and place to test it, it wasn't then.

"I imagine you must be tired and hungry," said Javal. "I have dinner waiting for you in your room, please, follow me."

The wolf restrained his aggressive instincts and as invited, followed the cat out of the chamber. The way to his cell, however, the cat chose to call it, was as informative as each brick in the corridor's walls. It was turning slightly to the right, and they passed some doors, but nothing besides that.

While they entered the room, everything else vanished from Vidar's mind. The place easily could pass as a quarter in any inn. A bed, a table with a full plate, two chairs. The floor was with fresh straw and a wooden chest stood under a small window. The wolf could see it was still day outside.

"I see you find it as an improvement from your previous accommodations," commented Javal, with a pleased smile. "You can find the privy on the courtyard. When you leave, just go further down the corridor, the doors to the right lead outside."

"Uhm... outside?" Finally uttered the wolf.

"It's not a prison, my lupine friend, although you have to stay here. You won't be able to leave, hurt me or Maskim or come up with any clever plan with this collar on," explained him the cat.

"And what if I take it off?" Asked the wolf, crossing his arms on his chest.

"You are free to try, mister Vidar. I don't recommend that," offered the feline. "In the chest, there is a shirt and a towel to dry yourself properly. As there is no point in offering you any pants, I won't. Better keep these boys free."

And then with a mischevious smile and in a surprisingly boldly gesture as for him, Javal grabbed Vidar's balls in his hand, letting his fingers fondle the wolf's orbs for a bit.

Vidar tensed immediately, pleasurable caresses arousing the sparks in his loins, to the point when his shaft started hardening in the confines of his cage. The young lupine huffed, shortly after climax or not, the touch had its effect and the tight steel grip around his bulging sheath only amplified the sensations.

"You, my handsome friend, just... let the lust grow in there," he smirked, letting go. "We will start tomorrow."

"Start what?"

"Sleep well, mister Vidar."