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Breaking the Kallu

Chapter 1: Taken from the Willows

For Anya_Arctic

By Draconicon

White fur was no good for camouflage, but Anya didn't believe she needed it. In the Willows, one did not hunt by sight so much as scent, and her scent was covered.

The arctic fox knelt by the banks of the river near her village, her toes sinking into the mud as her fingers traced circles along the surface of the water. It was similar to the Red Rut that came during the end of the summer months in the way that it refused to sink and coated anything that touched the river, but it was too early in the year for that. And...

She sniffed her fingers.

It was not the Red Rut, either. It was a different oil, though one with a similar effect. Her pussy swelled beneath her loincloth at the single breath.

Anya wiped her fingers on the edge of the loincloth, watching the brown leather darken, but at least it no longer clung to her fingers. The vixen reached into her belt pouch, pulling out a couple of dried herbs. She waved them under her nose, and soon the worst of the heat between her legs faded away. She could deal with horniness. She didn't want to deal with rut while chasing this down.

She got back to her feet, pulling her spear out from behind her back and using it as a walking stick to get out of the mud. She dragged herself up to the higher ground, among the river trees, and climbed to the taller branches. The fumes of the early-blossoming plants followed her, filling her with a heady sensation of invincibility that she knew better than to trust. More warriors died falling out of trees than anything else before they got used to those smells.

Muddy feet found easy purchase on the rough trees, and the vixen started jogging along, leaping from branch to branch as she followed the river upstream. Down below, she could occasionally make out some of the wildlife, but most of them were bedded down for the warm, humid part of the afternoon.

What could be doing this to the river? she wondered, hopping again. There's no tribes north of us. Who's touching the river?

Time passed and the sun moved overhead, shifting from its place in the center of the sky to hanging a few slivers above the horizon. She had covered much ground, though her fur hung damp over her face and chest. It wasn't tiredness that drew her to a halt, however, but rather the smell of something else on the air.

The vixen dropped to a squat in the middle of the tree, putting her spear over her back to give her an extra hand to steady herself. Holding her breath until she could stop panting, Anya tilted her head back and sniffed the air again, hoping for more information.

There were people ahead, but they didn't smell like any of the tribes that lived near the White Foxes. They did not have the hard, smoky smell of the moles to the east, nor the lighter, flowery smell of the mice that lived in the north. Instead, they smelled...

They smelled of leather, hot and thick, with a strange musk underneath. And more than that, they smelled like the oil that covered the river.

This is where it comes from, she realized. These people are the problem.

Determined to get a closer look, Anya crept along the branch ahead of her, falling to all fours to steady herself and keep quiet. Her toes curled into the bark, her fingers digging into the branch as she slid further and further along.

The branch extended over the center of the river before thinning out to a dangerous extent, giving her a perfect view of the other side. A small camp had been made, but it wasn't like the camps made by her people or the warriors that she had worked with before. There were no defensive stakes, nor a pit for wastes, nor anything for the roasting of meats and other food to keep it from affecting them.

Instead, there were triangles of stretched cloth and a great pit in the center of the camp. At first, she thought the pit was for trash, but then she looked closer.

Anya's eyes widened at the sight of warriors and hunters in the pit. They were tied down, their necks collared by some strange, hard material that seemed to glimmer in the light of sunset. Their eyes were glazed over as if they had been consuming the Wet Leaf, and they seemed to moan from time to time, though not in pain.

More strange, there were warriors from tribes that were blood enemies to one another in the pit, yet there was no conflict between them. They merely stared into the distance, their eyes glazed and their bodies slack.

And then, she saw the others.

A horse stepped out of one of the cloth triangles, but he was not dressed like the horses that she knew. He wore leather that stretched from his shoulders to his ankles, and rather than hard hooves, he had strange leather coverings for the ends of his legs. They were black rather than brown, and his mane - white - was carefully cropped down, trimmed, almost like a shameless warrior trying to remove any way his opponent could grab him.

She didn't know what to make of it. This was a stranger of the oddest sort. He did not look like anything that she had seen in the Willows before, or anything that she had dreamed of.

Anya wrinkled her nose, realizing that the scent coming off the water was getting to her again. Her pussy was dampening beneath her loincloth, starting to drip in little strings of slime to the leather that covered her. Her nipples were hardening, too, getting stiffer beneath the hide bra that she wore.

Not good time for this, she thought.

She inched back along the branch, pulling the herb out from before. She sniffed it, hard. It barely helped. She was still horny, still dripping, and far more than she would have been from the simple Red Rut. Whatever this stuff in the water was, whatever was causing the fumes, was powerful indeed.

But now, she had a choice.

Did she go back to her tribe and tell them what was going on? It would be the smarter thing to do, and it would make sure that everyone else would know what was happening in the Willows. If warriors were disappearing, the message needed to be sent to the other tribes. They needed to keep informed of the danger.

On the other hand...

She looked back at the horse. He seemed to be alone, and while he was a big, bulky sort of guy, he looked...soft. Not used to the Willows and their danger. If she could take him down, then there was no need to get the rest of the tribe involved yet. If she took him down, she might even be able to make him into one of her lovers back home.

Of course, she knew nothing of his personality, but he had a good body, and she felt that he might be soothing to some of her needs. She had yet to claim a male of her own, and some of the other warriors had been taunting her about that.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime, too, with something this exotic, and the glory that'd come of freeing the others...

Yes. She was decided.

Anya pulled her spear out, backing up to the base of the branch to give herself as much room as she could get. She needed to make this count, or she'd end up in a face to face confrontation, and she didn't like the sound of that. Not against someone that big.

Spear to the back of the head. Roll, pin. Keep down until you can choke him out. Then tie him up. Simple. Easy.

That was what she was hoping for, at the very least. No time to back down now.

Anya ran as fast as her feet would carry her, the leather loincloth ruffling between her legs until she kicked off the tree. She flew through the air, started to fall -

And he turned. He turned. He turned!

Arms thicker than the branch she'd just left grabbed her from the air and threw her over the pit. The vixen spun and twisted, just managing to land on her feet. She skidded back, panting as she pulled her spear up defensively.

"Quick..."

He didn't seem to understand her. Instead, he pulled something from his waist, a net in one hand and a club in the other.

He plans to catch me...

With the element of surprise blown, she knew better than to get into a standing fight with someone that big. It wasn't something she could win, and she wasn't going to test her luck. Anya turned, darting back to the trees and the slog and the swamp.

It didn't take long before she caught the sound of footsteps following after, and she cursed her luck. She was leaving footprints everywhere, her padded feet sinking into the mud and making marks that weren't fading fast enough. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't get to the high grounds quick enough. The rain had left everything slick, forcing her to keep to the ground.

It didn't help, either, that the scent of the blooming flowers was having their usual effect on her. Unlike the hunting expeditions, she couldn't slow down and counter it with her other herbs. All she could do was keep running.

Her legs were getting slick, too, the juices running from her pussy soaking her thighs and making it hard for her to keep running. Her breasts bounced more than she'd like, too, and each little bounce dragged her hardening nipples against the inside of her hide bra.

Damn, damn, damn...

She leaped over a log, panting as the sudden spreading of her legs chilled her insides. Biting her lips, she pushed herself to try and run faster -

The hiss of something on the wind was her only warning. Anya threw herself to the ground, barely avoiding something that shot right over her head. She heard it hit a tree just ahead of her, and stared.

It was something else that had the same hard gleam as the collars around the other warriors, but this one looked like a needle. Like a blow-dart, except bigger, heavier. The needle was embedded a full three inches into the tree, too; what would have happened if it had hit her?

Groaning at the muck soaking her front, Anya kept running.

#

She finally stopped a mile south of the camp, having finally managed to get into one of the trees. The muddy vixen dropped to a crouch, being as silent as possible as the horse stood beneath her.

You don't see me. You don't know where I am.

She'd kicked off the ground, then into one tree, and then back into this one. She had made it look like she'd kept running, or at worse, climbed away from him in a different direction. That had to be enough to throw him off her tail.

It had to be.

The worst part was that she had to squat there, her legs spread and her loincloth snagged on a branch. The slightest movement might snap it or make enough noise for him to see her. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem...

But with the flowers blossoming and spreading their heated incense through the air, her body was not taking kindly to the various suggestions that they were making.

She could fall on him and take him the way that she wanted. He was off-guard again, and she was right above him. One good move, and he'd be pinned, his body hers to play with. She could strip those leathers right off him and see what he had been his legs.

It had to be big. Horses were always big.

The thought only added to the flow she had between her legs. The run had exhausted her willpower to ignore it, and she could feel it like a flood down there. Her pussy was puffy as hell, filled with blood and feeling like it was constantly rubbing against itself with the slightest of movements. It was soaked, too, and she could feel the weight of the strings of her juices hanging from it, dripping to the branch in bigger and bigger droplets.

It was affecting her footing, too. Squatting the way she was, it was soaking her toes, and it would have left her sliding if her toe-claws weren't embedded in the bark of the tree.

_Just go. Just go! _

He didn't, though. He kept circling the area, kneeling down as if he might find more tracks. The annoying male was starting to drive her up the wall, particularly as her urges kept shifting.

The smell was driving her crazy. Every breath seemed to fill her with need, pushing the emptiness inside of her to the front of her mind. She restrained herself from touching down there by the barest of margins, and even that was taunting her as she kept feeling her juices running free. She wanted nothing more than to fuck herself, or better, to take that male and fuck him.

Her mind was swimming with naked images, thinking of the horse tied to one of the trees as she took his cock in hand and teased it. She wanted to feel its throbbing heat inside of her, wanted to teach him a lesson as she rode him until she was satisfied, keeping him on edge, possibly never letting him finish.

Gods and goddesses, she wanted it.

One fist was shoved almost down her throat to muffle her whimpers and whines, and it was barely enough. The other clenched the branch at her side in a death grip. There was nothing for her to do to satisfy her sex.

And it craved satisfaction.

Even the occasional breeze teased her, a cool touch between her legs, a whispering finger of cold that chilled her sex and made her want more. She twitched her hips to it, almost humping every little breeze that came to her.

Until that one, fateful moment.

Another twitch of her hips, and this time, it sent a string of her juices flying. Time seemed to slow as it spun in a silvery, glistening strand away from her, then down, down, down...

Right on the stallion's muzzle.

Anya gasped as he finally turned and saw her. She grabbed for her spear, but it was too late. He lifted something, something that fit in one hand, and it clicked.

Thunk!

A needle hit her in the shoulder, and her eyes went wide in momentary pain...and then shut as whatever was in it spread through her body like wildfire. She tried to hold onto the branch, but it was too much. Soon, she was out, and falling, falling, falling.

#

The vixen woke up to massive cold. She gasped, her eyes going wide as her fur was soaked against her, her body already shivering from the ice-cold bath that she'd just received. It knocked the mud off her, that was for sure, but her teeth were still chattering as the horse knelt down beside her.

She tried to grab at him, but her arms were pulled over her head, tied to some ring of that same new, hard stuff that she kept seeing. No matter how hard she pulled on the chains, she couldn't get them loose. She was trapped.

Worse, her loincloth and bra had been removed. Her breasts hung out in the open, and her legs were just spread enough to show her holes. She pulled them together again, growling deep in her throat.

The horse, however, just smirked.

"You were a quick one, vixen," he said.

She was amazed she could understand him. His voice was strange, yes. It was higher-pitched than someone would have expected a creature that large to have, and it was strangely accented, almost like he didn't quite know what he was saying. But she understood it, nonetheless.

"You ran faster than any of my other prizes. And you were almost able to keep hidden. If it wasn't for the deviant qualities of this swamp, I doubt I would have found you."

"Let me go, you monster!"

"Ah, so you can talk."

He chuckled, running his hand along her side before cupping her left breast. The fact that he did it so freely without asking permission, the way that he just assumed he could play with her body however he wanted, only incensed her further. She tried to bring a leg up, tried to kick him, but he blocked it.

"Ah ah. You're not your own person anymore."

"You may not claim me. A female may never be claimed by a male."

"Heh, is that what you think?"

He didn't stop rolling her tit around in his fingers, squeezing it from time to time as he gradually made his way down to her nipple. The way that he touched was not quite expert, but her body was still in need. Desperate need. She squirmed, shaking her head, fighting the urge to moan as his large finger circled her nipple.

"You're quite the prize, you know. Fit, healthy. And certainly different, with three tails. Is your entire tribe like that?"

She refused to answer. If he didn't know, she wasn't going to tell him. She still had that much loyalty to her people.

He just stared at her for a bit before putting her leg back down, shaking his head in return.

"Well, you don't have to tell me. There's other hunters looking for people to collar. I'm sure that we'll find out eventually."

"What are you? Who are you?"

"Heh, it doesn't matter much to a little savage like you, does it?"

She snarled at him, biting at him. He barely pulled back in time, much to her annoyance. She would have liked to get a bit of blood on her teeth. At the very least, though, it forced him to let go of her breasts for a moment.

"Well, we can't have you acting like that."

He left her, moving back around to the far side of his camp. As he did, she took stock of the situation.

She'd lost her weapon, her clothes, and her freedom of movement. Her arms were tied up with something that she couldn't snap or break, and her body was aching for the touch of someone else. If she didn't get it soon, she would start making concessions, giving him what he wanted. If that happened, there would be no getting away until she was satisfied.

And there would be no help. She'd left of her own accord, planning on finding out the meaning of the mystery before coming back to tell them. They might have noticed her departure, but they wouldn't expect her back for a few days, at least, possibly as long as a week. By then...by then, who knew what might happen?

I have to get away. I have to.

The horse returned, kneeling by her with a bottle of something in hand. He held it out to her, touching it to her lips.

"Drink."

She shook her head. He sighed, grabbing her nose and pinching it shut.

"Drink."

Anya shook her head again, despite feeling her lungs already clenching down on the little bit of air that they had left. They were shriveling up inside, trying to keep open, trying to make the air that they had last for as long as possible.

Not good...not good...

The arctic fox tried to toss her head, to loosen his grip, but all he did was grip tighter, pressing his hand down on her muzzle and using his fingers to keep her nose plugged. She couldn't do anything if she didn't open her mouth. No air came, and she didn't have much to start with.

She heaved, her chest starting to ache, her lungs feeling empty already. Her heart was battering at her ribs, and her eyes were fluttering back. She thrust her head forward, back, side to side, anything that might loosen the death grip that held it, but nothing worked. All she did was slam her muzzle against the hand that held it so tightly.

Air...air...

The world was fading around her, slowly collapsing into a darker and darker ball of existence. She couldn't see it clearly, even the horse fading to a blurry mess.

Need...air...

Her body spasmed, trying to get her to free, but even that didn't work. All she could do was -

"AH - Mmmph!"

She managed one quick gasp before the bottle was shoved into her mouth. She was swallowing by instinct, some of it hitting her stomach before she realized what happened. Even as she tried to spit it out, he forced the bottle into her throat. There was no room to push it out. All she could do was drink.

The fox whimpered as she felt it heating her up already, a tingle running from out from her stomach to her sex, and then everywhere else. The mud beneath her ass felt colder, softer, cupping at her. The cool air at her breasts pulled her nipples into painfully hard points. The breath of the horse on her neck was better than the touch of a lover.

Oh gods...what did...what did he give me?

He pulled the bottle free. She didn't quite throw up, but she came close, gagging as it slipped out of her neck.

"That'll have you in the mood if nothing else does."

"What was...what was that?"

"A purer version of what we're putting in the river. Felt like a good way to start softening your people up."

Oh no...

She could remember almost going into heat just from smelling the oil on the river. If it had a stronger, purer form that she'd just drunk -

Anya arched her back as her pussy clenched down on nothing, her clit feeling like it had just been booted out from behind its hood. Her pussy jetted with juices, squirting hard. It wasn't an orgasm, though. Rather, it was like her body was preparing to be fucked, begging for the hardest rut that she could get, and making sure that she could last through it.

Gasping for breath as her pussy gushed what felt like a river of its own juices, the fox squirmed in her place, her tails twisting and turning behind her as her sex juices ran over her pussy, down to her ass, and puddled beneath her. The muddy ground turned muddier and messier, making her slide along to the very end of the slack of her chains.

Her toes curled in the muck, squelching it between them as she thrust her hips into the air. She desperately tried to curl her tails around, but they were half-stuck in the mud and couldn't help. She tried to pull her hands free to touch herself, but that wasn't allowed. She even tried to curl herself off the ground, to touch her pussy to her hands instead.

Even that was impossible. All she could do was hang there, humping the air before the horse.

He watched her, smirking, groping the front of his pants. She knew, she knew, even in this frenzy, what he wanted from her. He wanted her body. He wanted information. He wanted her to give in and shame herself before everyone else in the pit.

Will not...will not...

She moaned, unable to help herself. She was juicing so hard, her entire body shaking and sweating. Her nipples felt like little bundles of nerves that would explode at the slightest touch, her sex clenching on nothing, wanting anything, even a twig in there. And her ass...

She had never thought about her ass before, but now even it wanted something inside. She could feel the clenching of her pucker, the way that her entire body was begging for something inside, every part of her hyper-sensitive. Even grinding the soles of her feet through the mud was as pleasurable as her hand upon her sex just this morning.

Need...

Anya shook her head, even as her body trembled and quivered.

Hold...hold...

#

She lasted four hours. Four hours of hip-thrusting, ass-grinding, and sweating to the stars. Her fur was matted over her as if she'd been dropped in the river, and she stank of sex. More than ever before, she needed it.

The horse came to her again. He had been giving her water laced with more of whatever that thing was, forcing her to swallow it down, keeping her need high. She had turned him down, told him no every other time that he had offered to take the need away. Even when he ground his cock against her cheek, even when she smelled his musk, she'd held out.

Now, as he approached, his hand was down his pants. She knew what was coming, or at least, the animal part of her brain did.

He pulled his fingers free, the digits moist with his musk, and he shoved them under her nose. She breathed once, out of instinct.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

She screamed, moaning, nearly cumming from the scent alone. She slammed her hips forward, spreading her legs as far as they would go.

No, no, her conscious brain said, but her body had been pushed as far as it would tolerate. It would not wait any longer.

The stallion knelt in front of her, pulling her legs towards him and spreading them even further. He held her up by her ass, keeping her out of the mud, and did something to his pants. Finally, his cock came into the open.

As horse cocks went, it was not the biggest, but it was more than big enough to scare her. Eleven inches long, thick as her wrist, and with a bloated ring around the middle that threatened to break her. Yet her body kept thrusting for it, begging for the slightest bit of stimulation, any sort.

No, no, no! her mind kept screaming, and it only got louder as the horse's flared cock head reached down. Not to her pussy, but to the over-slicked hole beneath it.

No! her mind shouted.

YES! her body responded as he forced his way in.

She was so deep in her mindless rut that she didn't even feel the burning pain of her virgin hole being ripped open. She didn't feel the ache that came when her ass was forced to expand further than any vixen should have done. And she definitely didn't feel the sudden gut-punch of pain of having her backside violated.

No, she was so drugged, so deep into artificial 'natural' need, that all she felt was something finally taking away the empty feeling.

He held her by her thighs, thick fingers digging into her muscles as he pulled her down his cock. Anya's head fell back, her body going limp and slack as he filled her up further and further. There was no pain. Only pleasure. Only need. Only a need that was finally getting filled.

Further, further, further, that thick flare at the tip scraping her open, forcing her body to bend to his shaft. She took it and gurgled, too out of it to be able to speak or moan, but her pussy was spasming, twitching, squirting. She didn't know how, she didn't know how much, but god it was. There was no stopping it.

She kept shaking, squirming, panting. He was several inches in. Only several, but so thick. So impossibly thick.

How open...how big...

Her conscious mind could not keep up as he pulled her down, down, down his cock. It didn't stop until they hit the ring at the center.

No... her mind whimpered, falling into what her body wanted, barely able to protest.

Her captor had to pull back, dragging that flare back, dragging along her inner walls before -

"NNNNGH!"

He slammed in again, the ring popping against her hole, but not quite sliding in. She felt it, though, felt the thickness, knew what was coming.

He pulled back again, almost feeling like he was dragging her insides out with his cock, so huge that she could feel and even see his cock through her belly. It was like he was trying to push right through her, trying to break through to her mouth.

SLAM!

Almost in, that time, the ring pressing firmly against her rim, the vixen going completely slack, her toes sinking into the mud, her tails flopped out against it, the chains digging into her wrists with bruising force.

POP!

Anya couldn't move, but she came. As that medial ring finally popped into her, she came, squirting her juices all over the stallion's crotch. He grinned at her, she realized, but she didn't understand why. Didn't understand anything. She was...she was...

She was fucked stupid...

He sped up after that, slamming in faster and harder, working himself in and out. His medial ring kept popping her ass, stretching it out, pulling at it and making her feel like a mare from how much it swelled up from the friction. She felt every inch of him as he finally buried himself into her depths, holding himself there.

It felt like her hole was molding itself to his size, clenching down weaker and weaker every time that she tried. What was happening to her? Why did this feel so good?

She lost count of her orgasms as he fucked her, lost count of how many times she was filled and emptied. All she knew was her pleasure, her orgasms, and the eventual flood of cum up her ass at the very end of it.

As she slipped into pleasurable unconsciousness, her dreams started with a new weight around her neck.

#

She semi-woke the next day, naked and in a line of chains with the other warriors that had been caught. She still couldn't think, still drooled pleasure between her legs, but she could stand. She could walk.

It felt weird, though, like there was a constant flood running out of her backside as well as her front. Hotter, stickier than her own juices, and...was she more open? It almost felt like it.

"You Kallu are going to make me a lot of money. Move, Kallu. Move, slaves," the horse called, and they did.

Kallu. He said the word strangely, almost like it meant something different to him. For her, 'Kallu' simply meant 'people.' The people of the Willows and the swamp. The way he said it...it was like he was calling them something dirty, something less.

Anya didn't know what was going on. Her neck felt heavy, and her arms did too, pulled down by thick chains that were completely unbreakable. Every time that the vixen took a step, she could feel something weird about her ass, almost like there was something in it? Opening it? She didn't know.

Worse, she thought, was how everything felt so...good. Every step caressed her pussy with the chains that ran between her legs, and every time she pressed her foot to the ground, it was like someone was massaging her foot. Every time she had to take a long step, she was aware of the thing in her butt again, and every time they jumped, she felt the weight of her breasts and the new sensitivity in her nipples.

The vixen knew that she had to be drugged with something. There was no other answer. But what? This was beyond the potency of anything in the Willows.

What did they do to her?

What did this horse want?

The End