FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Morning came as a surprise. So strong was my impression of impending apocalypse that I hadn't imagined daytime would ever return, but it did. I first heard the sound of chains, but it barely entered my consciousness until I felt myself being lowered. My knees folded. It was painful, but exquisite at the same time. I collapsed in a small heap at a manacharian's feet. He smelled familiar. When I opened my eyes, he'd walked away already, but I recognized the scent. It was the Black Guard captain that had helped me up the stairs. Too tired to keep my eyes open for long, I glanced at the pillar, and saw that a long chain linked it to my collar. Though I was still restrained, I could lie down, and rest, at last. Around me, I heard morning sounds. They lulled me to sleep. The great wooden doors to the throne room had been chained to the walls to keep them open. The throne room wasn't empty anymore. Somehow, it was comforting to hear the universally ordinary sounds of people busying themselves in the early day, even if those people were the enemy. Soldiers and servants walked around. Their boots stomped near my prostrated body, and the air moved with them. Exhaustion prevented me from worrying about getting stepped on.

Early morning had already bid its farewells when I definitively woke up. I'd slept lightly in a confusing mix of moments of awakening and dream state. I progressively remembered where I was, and what had happened. It seemed that the previous day was an opaque hellish nightmare that I'd escaped. My inner strength had returned, and I was profoundly reassured to discover that my spirit remained solid. I was in a difficult situation, sure, but I merely had to figure a way to endure it until it changed. Some opportunity to escape would present itself, or someone would come and free me, or the Fair King would return with the Wizards Guild and a new army to reconquer his kingdom. In the meantime, I had to survive. Vivid memories of last night swelled from a dark place in my soul, and threatened to obliterate my newfound optimism. I needed that energy right then, so I buried the memories, and I concentrated on everything else. There was no point in dwelling on it. None of it was my fault anyway, so it didn't matter. It might as well never have taken place, as far as I was concerned. As soon as I decided upon that course of action, disgustingly crusted spots of seed in my dirty, messy fur, and especially around my privates, reminded me of what I was supposed to forget. I struggled not to think about it anymore.

The Quiet Palace was busy. The previous day, servants and workers had been running around, preparing the throne room for the coronation, and reorganizing themselves to meet the requests of the new dominating caste. Undoubtedly, the Lowlanders would live differently from us, and adapting to the habits of their lords was the servant class' job. That morning, however, the activity came from the conquerors themselves. They were disorganized, to say the least. Warriors and chieftains swirled around the throne, like a cloud of insects around an oil lamp. They all wanted to see the king about the crumbling city walls that they had besieged, and would now have to repair; the concerning state of the treasury, drained by the battles; the untrustworthiness of this or that Southern noble; the repartition of spoils; the distribution of lands and villages; the continued resistance of certain pockets of civilians, and an endless stream of other problems that apparently all required the Outsider's attention. But the king was nowhere to be seen. In the heart of the storm, standing next to the throne, the captain of the Black Guards withstood the onslaught with resigned poise. He looked in charge, but I began to pay attention, and I realized that he wasn't actually resolving anything. He reassured the attention seekers that the matters would be looked into, and stemmed the tide of rising conflicts, as this new nobility discovered the joys of fighting over whose issues were the most pressing.

Since I was chained to a pillar, with nothing better to do, I listened carefully. A few things became clear to me. This wasn't a barbarian army; it was a barbarian horde. Court rivalries was nothing new, but these were chiefs and warlords of separate clans and tribes, with divergent ideas and interests. They didn't think of themselves as a whole, as a unit, like we Southerners considered ourselves proud citizens of the Southern Kingdom. They thought of themselves as temporary allies, brought together uncomfortably by one shared goal of conquest under the guidance of the Outsider. They would never be able to form an efficient governing hierarchy. They depended entirely on their leader. If he was merely out of the room, their association collapsed into internal feuds. This alliance couldn't possibly last, especially if the new king began spending all of his time obsessing over the Silvergate.

The Outsider came in precisely as I entertained these thoughts. I averted my eyes. I couldn't see anything but the bland mask I'd stared at during... I couldn't process this. I experienced the same physical hurt, the same wordless emotional agony. I sensed in a panic that this wouldn't be a controllable reaction. My plan to forget all that had happened was already failing. On the other hand, it would be impossible for me to survive like this, cowering away whenever this monster came into sight. I made myself look at him again. I repeated, like a mantra, that it was just a face, just another manacharian. I tried to feel empty, and it worked, somewhat. I forced myself to breathe normally. After a few seconds, I could look at him.

The Outsider wore the wrinkled, tired face of a person who'd forgotten to get any sleep while fussing over an unsolvable puzzle. I thought that the occupation of the Northwesterners might turn out even more short-lived than I imagined. I knew, rationally, that this detail should have filled me with a savage joy, but I felt nothing positive. I stared like a statue would have.

The quarrels paused abruptly. The Black King ignored everyone, walked all the way across the room from one of the back entrances behind the throne, and moved through the entry hall to my pillar. He stood over me, looking haughty. He'd come to wallow in my suffering. For a moment, his conceit replaced his exhaustion. I tensed up, horrendously anxious, but I managed to glare venomously. I wanted him to think that none of what he did, or would do to me, mattered. Even chained at his feet, I would always be better than him. I expected him to get angry, and to brutalize me in some way. Instead, he chortled. He crouched, and pat my head before I could jerk it away. He furrowed disrespectfully between my ears and muttered:

-- Poor, dumb thing.

I was surprised at how quickly rage boiled up in me. Without the muzzle, I would've bitten his fingers off. Instead, I growled while he walked away. He gestured nonchalantly, as if I was barely worth his attention.

"Prop him up."

Soldiers manhandled me onto my paws, and shackled them. They also pulled the long chain through the pillar ring until almost its entire length hung uselessly, and locked it at the second or third link, so that I would have to stand nicely. I suddenly became extremely conscious of my nudity again. It hadn't been too bad while I was slumped on the floor, but since I stood in full view, it seemed an entire nation's worth of lords gawked at my thoroughly violated body from the throne room. I growled more loudly. The room laughed. They were right. Even I thought I sounded pathetic. If there was no point in trying to fight back, then there was no point in threatening to fight back either. I'd seen slaves act up before as well. Some provided inspired details about what they would do to anyone who would lay a hand on them, apparently lacking the understanding that they wouldn't get to act independently anymore. It seemed absurd, and as far as I knew, it'd never done anything for them either. Loud-mouthed slaves could be tamed and trained just as well as the others. I went silent. I simply stood for the Lowlanders' viewing pleasure, to satiate their shameless curiosity.

Luckily, the Black King was a much more significant attraction than me. As one, the barbarian lords turned their attentions to him as he climbed the central steps, and fell in his throne. The storm of attention-seeking loomed darkly over the Outsider's head. The first row of petitioners, those closest to their liege, slid a foot forward, or began to gesture with their hands, or cleared their throats, awkwardly attempting to secure a speaking advantage without quite daring to break the king's silence. Before events spiraled out of his control, the Outsider raised his hand with a merciless expression, efficiently subduing the tempers. He motioned for his loyal captain of the Black Guards to approach. Then, he called for him by name, and thus I learned what it was. It appeared important to my eyes, since he'd been the only Lowlander with any apparent willingness to treat me like a real person.

"Captain Meleth. A word."

Meleth hurried to the side of the throne, and bowed. The two manacharians whispered. After about thirty seconds, Meleth was sent back into the crowd. The Black King sat straight, and composed himself. He no longer showed any hint of tiredness. He projected energy. In a strong, confident voice, he addressed the assembly.

"My understanding is that there are more urgent issues than we have resources available to see to them. Right now, the reality is that, while the success of our campaign is undeniable, we are still at war. The Southern army is retreating into Cierra, but they will undoubtedly strike back if we let them. Therefore, our sole priority is to consolidate our position here. We will not be able to rule anything if our presence is viewed as temporary. I want every able body that is not on guard duty rebuilding the wall. I want heavy military presence in the streets, not in here. The palace will not be threatened unless rebels can organize, and they will not organize if they cannot meet. Naturally, we will need funds for the rebuilding, and for the soldiers' wages. We also want to secure as much cooperation as we can from the local lords. They would make the transition of power considerably smoother. We have the momentum. Many might be interested to change sides if we offer forgiving terms."

The room grumbled. The king frowned.

"No, I do not care if you have personal grudges against some of them, so gloat as much as you can when they kneel before a king from the Lowlands. That is all the revenge you will get. The more defect to our side, the less we will have to fight. If they cause trouble, we will deal with them case by case. I have already made preparations. Captain Meleth will oversee the reconstruction of the walls. Captain Einar will marshal our forces for the coming months. You can all report to them both. As for raising the treasury, I will personally handle that matter. The spoils will, of course, remain untouched until we have the opportunity to evaluate, and to split them fairly."

It would be a stretch to say that the court was content, but they did seem reassured that a plan was in motion, and that their interests were protected. I had exactly zero experience in courtly matters. Though I'd worked for the Fair King and his nobles, I'd never been involved in actually managing the lands. Even so, I worried at how effortlessly competent the king appeared. If I'd noticed it, it was likely the other warlords would do so as well. If he inspired confidence with his troops, that alone might carry them forward a long way. What would that mean for me? A frightening expectation began to form. What if this campaign lasted for a long time? Some wars, especially those where both sides entrenched into defensible fortresses, could last for decades. An extraordinary weight sunk me into a morass of helpless anxiety. No, I hammered in my mind. It was impossible that this Lowlander horde would be able to manage a sprawling, complex kingdom such as ours for long.

The chaos in the throne room began to sort itself out. The warlords left gradually, discussing the tasks they were being assigned by the manacharian Meleth and -- surprisingly among this army of felines and lizards -- a tall canine named Einar that, despite having just been named marshal of the Northwestern army, was treated contemptuously by the others even as they acknowledged his orders. On one single occasion, he glanced at me, as if he was looking at a stain on the floor. Yet, he seemed almost as unhappy here as I was.

As for me, I spent miserable hours decorating my pillar in silence. People came in and out, systematically catching glimpses of me. How could they not? That's what I was there for, to create the impression that the South was defeated, reduced to nothing, reduced to me, without food, clothes or dignity.

At one point, the atmosphere changed. The muffled conversations had steadily diminished during the last hour, and more of the courtiers departed than arrived. The Outsider deployed efforts to appear energetic proportionally to the occupancy of the room. When he ended up nearly alone with his sentinels, he wilted onto one of the armrests, burrowing his face in his hand. When Meleth appeared from one of the side doors, the king straightened his back, and turned toward the entrance. He recognized Meleth. He crumbled instantly with a sigh.

"This day cannot end soon enough."

-- When's your meeting with the treasurer? asked the captain helpfully.

The Outsider grumbled.

-- As soon as our guest arrives.

-- And when is that?

The king threw Meleth an irritated look.

-- I do not know, do I?

Meleth shrugged.

-- In this case, you might as well get some sleep. There's no sense in waiting here for what might be many hours. You're the king, now. I'll come and get you when something happens.

The barbarian leader hesitated, but his eyes were closing.

-- Perhaps I could use a short break.

In truth, I thought Meleth seemed exhausted as well, but at least he didn't show trouble with merely keeping awake. Yet.

-- Who's that guest you're waiting for anyway?

-- A local moneylender.

Meleth was taken aback.

-- You're kidding.

-- I am not. He is extremely wealthy. He used to lend money to the Southerner king in wartime.

-- Then why would he help us?

-- Because his previous investments look like they will not yield much profit for him.

-- That's all the more reason not to help us. He's chipped in with our enemy.

-- And now, I will make him chip in with us.

-- He'll just run east with the Fair King if you threaten him. These are careful sorts. We won't find his money.

-- We will not try to find his money. We have done enough looting as it is. We cannot enforce order if we are perceived as lawless ourselves. Besides, I never said I would threaten him.

-- Then what?

-- Be there, and you will see.

The Outsider rose laboriously from his throne. He reminded me of some of the older monks, at the Rusa temple, who could barely escape the clutches of the deeper and more comfortable chairs, as they sat by the huge fireplace in the common hall. I missed the common hall. Only there could the monks and novices interact together as equals. We ate, and gossiped, and bickered, and made up lewd stories while the older masters frowned disapprovingly, but kept their peace. The rest of the time, we were teachers and students, but in the common hall, we were a family. I shook my head. It was too painful to think of a time when I wasn't alone, and terrified. Pushing these memories away, I watched as the king disappeared through the same side door that Meleth had entered from. That was the path to the stairs, not his royal chamber. Meleth noticed it as well.

-- Sleep! he shouted angrily.

The Black King's voice boomed from afar.

-- You are not my mother.

Meleth struck the top of the throne, and mumbled to himself:

-- Be best for us if I was...

Manacharians, who had notably poor hearing, never failed to underestimate the other races' senses, and the captain probably believed no one heard him. Meleth said nothing else, and pulled a seat from one of the banquet tables at the back of the room. He brought it next to the throne. He sat down.

I discovered, for the first time in my life, that days are really, really long. I thought I'd been miserable before, in the early afternoon, but when activity died down, and the lights were dimmed, I realized that I was thirsty, hungry, scared, and bored. My legs, still sore from the day before, began to hurt, and to cramp up again. I tested my shackles for the tenth time. The iron clinked, remaining as solid as ever.

The noise caught Meleth's attention. He turned to me from the center of the throne room, remembering my existence. I watched as he got up, and he walked in my direction. I was in this weird state where any attention evoked a threat of some kind, but at the same time, I welcomed the fact that something was happening. I felt excited and apprehensive. The captain paused in front of me, irresolute. He looked at my exposed body. I didn't want to feel judged and evaluated, but I couldn't help it. He could see the way that I was. It should have been hidden, and precious, for me alone to rule over. I wasn't entitled to myself. Like before, an urge to fight back manifested itself, but I repressed it, and it was gone. I tried to comfort myself by thinking that this time, at least, I didn't look like an idiot by growling pointlessly. It didn't make me feel better.

"This can't be easy for you."

Wow. What a genius. I stared back with an unimpressed air.

"Would you like to stretch your legs a bit?"

If this had been the Outsider, I would've let him know what I thought of his fake mercy, but this Meleth seemed honest in his concern for my well-being. No. I thought critically. It wasn't reasonable to think that. When he'd helped me up the stairs, he'd been ordered to. The only difference between him and the other Northwesterners was his attitude. That didn't prove that he was on my side, and I knew that I shouldn't trust him. As soon as I thought that, I discovered that this argument wouldn't matter. I was desperately confused, and vulnerable. I knew that having an ally, having someone I could trust, would begin to anchor me, to help me create sense out of this turmoil. It had little to do with facts or reality, I absolutely needed to believe someone was on my side, and this Meleth appeared to be the best candidate. I wanted to trust him so badly, that I already implicitly did. I was vaguely ashamed that my loyalty was so cheap.

I lowered my face in disgrace, and then I nodded quietly. The thing I desired most in this world was to get away from this fucking pillar. From that point on, if he was smart, Meleth would know that I was already ready to comply, to accept things if they were presented in a certain way. He might not be smart enough to know it, or he might not be devious enough to use it against me, but I certainly wasn't fooled. When the reptile freed my ankles, and then detached the chain from the pillar, I padded around on my two paws, naked, like a dog on a leash. I did my best to appear unaffected. Meleth had to think that this was him doing me a service, rather than me finally showing some subservience. If they thought they could make me obey, things might get much worse, because, as I was beginning to grasp, it was true. I suddenly remembered that it was essentially what the Black King had said during his coronation speech, when he stressed that I couldn't fight back. I hated him twice as hard for being right.

Meleth, happily, turned out oblivious to all of these considerations, as far as I could tell. I ensured to keep up the pace perfectly, so that he wouldn't have to tug onto the chain, which would have been an awful reminder of how I'd been paraded through the streets. I was walked across the room, and through a short corridor that lead to the Harmony Gardens. I breathed the sweet, fresh air with delight, as we climbed down the three steps and moved along the alleyway between the vegetation. I'd never seen the garden before. Exotic plants and purple flowers ran to our sides, up to our knees, while taller bushes and short trees, planted into elevated, regular slabs of chiseled stone, grew and met overhead, creating archways of foliage. Those alleys twisted and turned into a maze. My entire lower body remained sore as we walked, but moving helped with the cramping.

Meleth paused near a low marble bench, but he didn't sit. I hesitated to sit while he stood over me.

"You should probably use every opportunity to rest."

It wasn't an order, and it made me feel comfortable enough to agree. The chain got in the way. I swiped it away so as not to sit on it. I couldn't repress an outburst of thankfulness, when my legs and paws were relieved of the stress of standing for hours on end. I looked up to Meleth. His body language had changed. He straightened his back, and crossed his arms, still holding the chain. He was suddenly dominating.

"That's precisely the kind of behavior that you should show your master."

I was livid. So that's what this was all about. I turned away, somber. Meleth immediately caught on. Afraid to waste my goodwill, he mellowed out, and sat next to me.

"I'm not looking out for him. Trust me, he doesn't need me to. It would make life easier for you."

Life? That word shook me. Life. What was he even talking about?

"I know he's harsh and cold, but you just can't take him on. He's your master. He can, and will make your existence unbearable if you give him the opportunity. You have to make all of the effort. He won't meet you halfway. I know it's not fair, and I'm sure it's not something you want, but it's not smart to antagonize him. You won't last, and it'll shape the way he thinks of you in the long term."

Every word of Meleth's was like driving nails into my skull. I didn't want to consider -- much less hear about -- the possibility that I would have to live through this. This wasn't my life. This was a freak accident that I would resolve as soon as possible. It couldn't last, and I would refuse it if it did. I would die before I accepted this, and begun to plan for my life as a slave. Fuck Meleth, and fuck that sadistic Demon.

Whatever willingness I had to cooperate disappeared, obliterated. If I had only one single certainty, it was that I would never act like some docile... I shuddered. The Demon would never touch me again. That I swore. It felt good.

Meleth sighed, apparently disappointed by his failure to convince me to be a pleasing pet, as if that was ever going to happen! I got up, and then I had nowhere to go. I wanted to storm off, I'd have been completely willing to pull on that chain, no matter how much the collar choked me, but in what direction? I couldn't direct my anger, neither literally nor figuratively, because I had no recourse. It always came back to this, and it drove me insane.

Meleth stood next to me while I boiled.

"Fine, then."

The captain walked toward the palace. I resisted. He waited patiently, for about five seconds. When he heaved violently onto the chain, it was unexpected. I fell over the stone tiles covering the path. I half-expected that I would be dragged along to teach me a lesson, but Meleth's face quickly turned apologetic.

"Please come."

I pushed myself to my knees with my muzzle, and I managed to rise to my paws. I took slow, heavy breaths without breaking eye contact. I despised that pathetic lizard so much, I just had to let him know. He wasn't on my side at all.

"I'm truly sorry, but I have to bring you back."

Meleth pulled the chain again. I responded. I had no choice, and it made me angrier. Everything made me angrier. I would show them. I would show them what happened when they pushed me too far.

When we entered the hall, the Outsider had returned. From up on his throne, his attention focused on me in the same way that a lightning bolt falls from a dark sky. He didn't say a word, but kept eyeing me while I was lead to the pillar, and immobilized. Then, he spoke:

-- What is this, Lord Meleth?

Meleth advanced casually under the wide doors and toward the throne.

-- Lord?

Accompanying the king, was a beige, snobbish-looking feline that I assumed had to be the treasurer. He wore the simple, bland, but resistant linen clothes that the Northwesterners appreciated. They actually prided themselves on wearing ugly, practical clothes. The stupidly dressed treasurer laughed in a creaky voice.

-- We stumbled upon the moneylender we were waiting for, explained the Outsider. And he called us lords. It made us laugh, but I suspect there is truth in his words. In a sense, we are Southern lords, now. What were you doing with my trophy?

Meleth very much ignored the last sentence.

-- How did it go? Did you secure some funds?

-- It went great; we have coin for the kingdom. What were you doing with my trophy?

The Outsider seemed amused rather than annoyed, but Meleth did it again.

-- How did you manage?

The king sighed.

-- I offered advantageous terms.

-- What terms?

-- Forty percent.

There was an uneasy silence.

-- That's an impossible rate. We can't pay back enough money to manage a kingdom plus forty percent after a year.

The Outsider giggled. He blinked numerous times, rubbing his eyes. He battled to remain awake. He seemed worse than before. He'd definitely not used his spare time to sleep.

-- That is exactly what the moneylender said. I reminded him that I ruled over two kingdoms now.

-- The Lowlands aren't a kingdom! exploded Meleth. And you don't rule any lands in your own name there!

-- He did not know that.

This gave the captain some pause.

-- You'll break the deal. You don't plan to pay him back.

-- Not forty percent, no. That is a ridiculous rate. I will pay him fifteen. It is much more reasonable.

-- And your word as a king will be worth nothing. How will you borrow money again?

-- Let us see. A year from now, when people are used to us, this moneylender will get his money back plus a neat fifteen percent profit. He will complain that he did not get what he was owed, which will be an obviously absurd sum that no king would ever accept to pay. Everyone will know that I lied to get him to switch sides, which, if he had not done it, he would have gotten nothing. I will have maneuvered skillfully, and if he presses his case, he will look like a fool. I do not expect any problems with obtaining new loans. He might even be the one to lend to me again. Fifteen is probably just about what he asked from his previous king.

Meleth shrugged, more or less convinced, but willing to drop the point.

-- Well, alright.

The king smirked caustically.

-- Are we done with this?

-- Yes.

-- What were you doing with my trophy?

The treasurer laughed. He observed the exchange with curiosity.

-- I took him out for a walk.

I fumed.

-- Oh? How was it?

The captain answered carefully.

-- He's in a bad mood.

The Black King smiled viciously at me.

-- Is he? Tell me all about it.

Meleth nodded uncomfortably. He seemed way more bothered by the situation than the Outsider. I didn't get the feeling that he was in trouble, and yet he was visibly displeased at the prospect of talking about what had just happened. I didn't know why, and I didn't care. They could both choke and die. The manacharians spoke in a low voice. I glowered at them, fully aware that they were talking about me. The Outsider got up, took one step, and turned to the feline.

"How long?" he asked in an audible voice.

-- The Southern lords are ready and awaiting your welcome, said the treasurer.

-- Good. Keep them waiting a little more.

The Demon strutted to me. He allowed a weak, twisted smile to form, showing a hint of his teeth. That was it, I could tell. He'd come to push me around, and I'd finally get an opportunity to wipe his wicked grin.

As he grew closer, however, I became distressed. I closed my eyes, and I concentrated. It was no time for self pity and fear. I couldn't lose my beautiful single-mindedness already. Horrified, I witnessed as my courage shriveled away with every step that living nightmare took. When he got into my face, mere centimeters from my nose, I was trembling. But I wasn't ready to give up. I could still pretend.

The Demon ogled at me with his sick, evil, soulless eyes. From up close, I saw how much he looked like a wreck. His eyes were set into deep shadows, and his face twitched. Without his usual mask of impassivity, the intensity of his expressions made something very obvious.

He was quite unhinged.

"I hear you are in a bad mood."

I tried to maintain eye contact, but I couldn't. Looking at him made me nauseous. His grin widened. I felt his tepid breath on my muzzle. I looked aside.

"So am I."

I flinched when he snapped his jaws right next to my face. The teeth made such a noise, there was no possibility that this movement didn't hurt. The monster's eyes widened. His thin tongue came out and licked my nose, the only part of my snout that wasn't covered by the leather muzzle. I freaked out then. I twisted and turned, trying to get free of my binds to murder this aberration. The Demon's expression became even more ardent, of some unknown emotion that I couldn't understand or imagine.

"Yes. Writhe. Amuse me."

I could barely see or hear anything, so strong was my imperious need to crush that reptilian face, to bash it until the skull caved in, and brains squirted out in a pink and grey paste.

The Demon licked his fingers, and pinched my nipples, squeezing one lengthily, and then moving to the other. I grunted, and my articulations hurt. I had to move my torso violently enough to escape his touch, even for a second. I felt my mind melting as I continually failed, and he kept touching me.

"Do you think I have forgotten yesterday? Maybe you have."

I raged, and squirmed. I lost all sense of reality. Tears ran, though I'd realize it only later. Why was this happening? I was supposed to finally beat him back, beat them all back. Why did he still get do to whatever he wanted? How could I defend myself?

"We went through all of these motions. In the end, I put you in your place and mounted you on my dick like a silly whore."

My sex was fondled as well as my chest. I shook tearfully in useless fury, still obstinately fighting the unwinnable battle against iron while my nipples were twisted and my privates molested. This had to stop. It was exactly the same. It was the same.

"You can protest all you want. We both know the way you are when it counts."

The Demon moved in, so close that his short, scaly snout rubbed against mine. This was hell. I was so pissed off, my intent to kill him was so pure, it seemed unthinkable that the world didn't warp to allow my wrath to unfurl. That couldn't happen again. I'd just sworn that I would prevent it! I was despicable! I was shit, if this happened.

"You spread your legs, you bounced on my cock for as long as I wanted, and it provided me with moderate, forgettable pleasure, at most. It was barely better than jerking off. That is what you are. You are a cheap fuck. You cannot do anything about it, and you never will. I will fuck you again. I will do anything I want to you, and, every time, it will terrify you to tears, because each and every thing I do to you will prove again what you already know."

I gasped. I noticed that I'd ceased struggling at some point. I'd heard everything the Demon said, and I was certain, utterly certain, that it was the truth. My anger, my hate was unbearable. I couldn't use it, so it swirled painfully, turning against me in my helplessness. I would do anything to make it stop. To make him stop. At last, he released my body. The Demon stepped back, and finished what he'd been saying.

"You know that it is real."

I was paralyzed. It had stopped, the death-like struggle. The fury had burned itself out. I was sad and afraid, that was all. It wasn't nearly as torturous.

"Lower your head."

I was blank. I lowered my head. A click came from behind me. The Outsider bowed, and unshackled my ankles.

"Follow."

I watched myself tread silently behind the Black King. We stopped in the middle of the throne room, before the throne, where Meleth and the treasurer waited. The latter seemed shocked, but amused. Meleth was harder to read, darker. Not that I was at my best then.

"Get down on your knees, and spread your cheeks."

When I knelt, and I opened my thighs to show the Demon my anus, I brutally identified what I felt. I was sorry. It was a weird fucking feeling to experience in this situation, because I didn't know what I was sorry for. How'd that make any sense?

The Outsider bent me forward, and grabbed my right leg in his elbow. He stretched it high. It was too much weight on my left knee, but he seemed aware, because he pulled heavily on my collar to absorb part of it.

"Now, slave, this is important. You must remember this moment, when you doubt your place. Wag your tail."

My mouth was so dry. I could barely swallow. It was just like it was someone else, wagging their tail, about to be fucked in the middle of this big room. It was disappointing, really, that this person was me.

I whined when my ass was studiously reamed once more, but even the large, cold dick wriggling in me didn't feel as self-annihilating as the frenzied, angry state I'd just left. I indulged in self pity. I was sorry that I'd foolishly convinced myself that I had any power to act upon my rage. I was sorry that I'd staked my opinion of myself to that pointless promise that I obviously couldn't hold, and that I now felt even more humiliated that I'd still failed to learn anything, that I'd _still_proven the Demon right. I thought of my masters, at the temple, that I loved as if they were my parents, and I was sorry that some of this might filter out, and reach them. They would grieve to know that this was happening, that I wasn't proud and happy anymore. I'd failed in the end, and now...

"Look, Meleth!" produced the monster between beastly grunts. "This is how you do it! This is how you tame your hero!"

Meleth remained somber. He coiled in his seat, protecting himself from what he was witnessing. He didn't like this. I'd been an idiot. He really was on my side.

My ears were grabbed, and my head pulled back hurtfully, while I continued to shake from the shoves into my spread-out rump. A greasy whisper slithered in my ear.

"Wag, slut. Keep wagging."

As I obeyed, I finally, actually, grasped the lesson, for good. I was property. I couldn't defy my owner overtly. I wouldn't do it anymore. I would loathe him, and bide my time, but I'd survive. This was survival. I had no choice. I didn't want to die.

It also meant that I had to entertain the notion that this situation might last, and this, well, this was even harder. I poorly repressed a few dread-induced sobs, which the Demon misinterpreted.

"Oh, you will stretch with use, he laughed."

I would stretch with use. Such destructive, corrosive words, they embedded themselves in my soul. My body would change to accommodate him. And first, I would suffer.

The pain built up to a head. I knew exactly what inescapable, obscene agony I was in for. The fleshly, sticky sounds of the strong cock pumping up my ass disgusted me, and for a while I couldn't hear anything else. Soon, my destruction was all I could sense.

I fell forward, hard, on the marble floor. My owner had released my collar, for a change, to keep things interesting, I'd wager. He also let go of my right leg, setting my knee to the floor, still widely spread. He fucked me faster. To keep my ass from moving too much from the forceful ramming, he put his two hands over my buttocks. He slapped me dominatingly after every few shoves. The blows didn't even hurt, compared to the rest, but they were audible. I was cattle. I was his cattle, and he could smack my ass if he wanted to, because it wasn't really mine; the ass in question actually belonged to him. That was the unambiguous significance. I had to accept that I wouldn't be able to prove him wrong anytime soon.

The sadistic fuck used me until he finished. I felt him throb when he seeded me with a low, satisfied groan. I'd gotten through this again, but I wasn't refreshed by any reassurance, this time. I thought back to when I was very young, before I was sent to Rusa. I'd make the same nightmare, over and over again, and I cried near bedtime, for fear of being plunged into this terror again. I didn't want to sleep. I never thought I'd have to experience that sort of paralyzing anxiety as an adult, but it had returned. The nightmare was the rest of my days.

The reptile's shaft slid out, and come seeped over the other layer of crust in my pelt.

The Demon rose over me, seized my head by wrapping both sides of the leather muzzle with his hands, and bent me over backwards until I stared right in his callous, upside-down face.

"What, are you not thankful for my time and attention?"

The throne room focused on us, even the guards. I had no need to see them. The utter silence told me plenty. There was a threat in the king's words, and I couldn't take more punishment then, or, perhaps, ever again. I nodded as much as he let me. His expression reformed to neutral, with the tired-red shade in his eyes as the only hint left of his instability.

"You do seem in a better mood," he mocked, dropping my head down to the floor. "I am having a few visitors, possibly old friends of yours. You will stay where you are, and illustrate what happens to those who challenge my rule. Make one sound, one movement, and you will fathom a new meaning to the word regret."