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Sheep-Dog

Chapter 10 - Purpose, Passion and Pain

Captain Asher motioned for silence and then led Bobby through the empty corridors of the castle without the benefit of a torch. Bobby wondered where all the guards that were usually on duty at every entranceway and intersection had disappeared to. He also wondered how many other spies were making their way out of the castle this night, bound for Pastoria and, perhaps, a sudden and ignoble death.

They took a narrow staircase that was unfamiliar to Bobby down, past the level of the walkway and farther, until the walls grew damp and chilly. At the bottom Captain Asher checked the way before leading Bobby through a long corridor that ended at a sturdy oak and iron door. It was open halfway, letting fresh air in, and again Asher verified that the way was clear before proceeding.

They were outside the keep Bobby realized when he saw the stars above him. More than that, they were outside the castle walls altogether. By the roughness of the ground he guessed that they were in the ravine that the castle sat on the rim of, on the opposite side of the village.

There was no moon, and the dark corridors had allowed them time to get their night vision. With it he was able to pick out his way and keep up with the wolf warrior, who seemed familiar with the route.

They travelled a full league away from the castle and the village by Bobby's estimate before Captain Asher stopped and spoke to him.

"Take this." He said curtly as he shrugged off the pack and held it out to Bobby. "In it you'll find food enough for three days and enough Pastoria coinage to see you to Areisborough and back with a generous amount for bribes if need be. There are toiletries and spare clothes also." He said wrinkling his nose. "You stink of sheep and ... never mind. I'd suggest you find a stream, wash and change so you don't arouse any suspicious noses on the other side of the border."

Bobby thanked him, promising to bathe as soon as he could. Captain Asher pointed out a trail that take him to the border and told him what markings to watch for along it.

"One more thing. Since you are travelling on your own and not 'protectin' any sheep you won't be able to carry a club or a knife, but a wlking stick like this one will not be suspicious."

He held out a thick stick, slightly taller than Bobby's waist. Bobby examined it and found it a good height for hiking and sturdy. It would make a fair club, especially since it weighed more than a stick that size should.

"It's heavier than I expected."

"Ah! There's a reason for that."

Asher reached out and twisted the top of the stick then pulled the ends apart. The move exposed a steel blade that gleamed in the starlight.

"This was made for the Prince when he was on his coming of age journey. The blade is not as wide or as long as a regular sword but the steel is the best in the world. It is wicked sharp and flexible, so it won't shatter in a clash, yet it is strong enough to pierce most armour. It is a most excellent weapon, and his giftIng it to you is a sign of his esteem."

Bobby examined the blade and the clever sheath. It was slightly curved and only had one sharpened edge, the other being thicker, to provide strength he supposed. A dark fang was etched into the steel near the hilt - a blood-red tooth no doubt.

"I don't deserve this."

"Maybe not yet, but see to it that you do, eventually. And sooner rather than later would be nice."

Bobby slid the blade back into the sheath and practiced locking and unlocking it.

"Thank the Prince for me."

"Thank him yourself when you return."

The captain's words were harsh, but they were delivered with a touch of humour and friendliness; the stiff slap on the back as he left likewise. Bobby vowed not to let either the Prince or his Captain down.

The trail that he was following was taking him further west than the one Renny the fox had led them into the Territories on. That was good he supposed, as it would be best to avoid the route Barbara and he had taken on their escape as well as his original path to Ariesborough when he first left home. He didn't want anyone he had encountered at the waystations to recognize him and possibly call out his real name.

After crossing the border the first night he slept in an improvised shelter well off the trail. If the wolves knew of it the smugglers surely would also, and it was sleeping in an obvious place that had led Renny to them. The second night he dared to approach a village and seek shelter in the stables behind the coach station. He had bathed and washed his old clothes earlier that day, sniffing them to ensure that all traces of Barbara and their closeness was gone from them before moving on.

The stables had the usual collection of horses and canines travelling with their masters that were sleeping in the inn as well as locals that were there to drink and hear the news from the far reaches of the realm. Bobby kept his mouth shut, deflecting questions about himself and listening to the talk to see how thing fared here since he left.

He heard a lot of grumbling about food shortages as much of the harvest was being set aside to feed the army when it came north. The horses were upset because they had to spend their free time helping to build the camps that would hold the army. The pigs because they had to dig wells in the camps and miles of latrines, and they were dreading having to clean them. The cats were upset because the presence of the army inevitably brought hordes of vermin, and they were taking to long to get there, leaving the cats half starved, or so they claimed.

Bobby listened carefully, noting the nature of each species complaint. He also marked the way the loyal dogs would snap at anyone that showed any open rebellion. One of his tasks was to sew dissent, but without raising suspicions. By observing these exchanges, he was able to start forming a plan for fulling that part of his mission.

He caught the coach going south the next morning, sitting in the bare-bones second cart of course. He had to produce his papers in order to secure a seat, claiming that he had buried his mother the day before and was now on his way back to his unit. When they stopped for the night he took a more active part in the conversation.

"Where I come from up near the border, we're seeing a lot of workers refusing to help with the war preparations." He said when the subject of the army came up.

"What are they doing about it?" A dog in the local watch uniform asked, pawing his club at the thought of clobbering a couple of dissenters.

"Not much, I'm ashamed to say. The disloyal bastards outnumber the local watch five to one!"

"They'll sing another tune when the army gets here."

"If it gets here." Bobby commented. "I hear that the sheep are so disorganized only half of the dogs called up so far have uniforms or weapons, and no one in my unit has been paid for months."

"So why are you going back then, James?"

Every creature in the stable leaned forward to hear his answer. He needed to come up with something that would sound believable but not to motivational. None of that 'for my mates' stuff or 'because it's my duty'. That kind of thing might make the others think that they should do their duty too, and he didn't want that.

Bobby studied the eager faces as his brain worked at a furious pace. Then he noticed the strongbox that the local watch dog was keeping a firm grip on. Unit members were encouraged to lock up their valuables in such boxes, after obtaining a receipt from the Watch Commander because the non-commissioned officers could not be trusted. A light when on in his head.

"My sergeant is holding my savings back at my unit." He said with a cynical grin. "Two years of saving my pennies for a trip to Suzie's Layer Cake my next furlough."

Most of the locals had heard tales of Suzie's, and they plied Bobby for more. He replied, honestly, that he had not been inside it himself yet, but regaled them with second-hand tales that he had heard in the guard's barracks at Bayfield's.

The night ended with several the locals whispering together about the desertions and rebellion that Bobby had reported. Bobby could not make out many of the words, but he liked the tone of them.

For the next week Bobby made his way south, avoiding the towns and waystations further east that he had visited previously. At each new stop he added to the list of imagined grievances, gripes and tribulations plaguing the army and the sheep that ran the government.

"Milk and cheese appropriated for the army is rotting in overheated storage sheds." He told cows that had mentioned how much of their produce was being redirected to the war effort.

"Dog in the camps are being made to catch rats because the cats are not reliable." He said to a mixed group of canines and felines, angering both.

"Some of the cats have been acting as spies for the wolves because it pays better." He smiled to himself as several felines slinked away after absorbing that tidbit, off to find the nearest wolf, no doubt.

"And the diseases!" He threw up his paws as if in disbelief. "We have to replace the pigs monthly because they can't work with the open sores and the coughing and with their digits falling off and all."

He talked at night, but he listened during the day. On the coaches and at the lunch stops he heard real stories of increasing desertions and refusals to support the army.

"Something is scaring off all the working species." He overheard a ram in the uniform of a junior officer complain to another. "And the lack of labourers is only making things worse. The dogs can't train because they are too busy doing mundane tasks."

"If this keeps up, they'll be asking us to work next." The other grumbled.

"As if."

Gossip travelled faster than the coaches and by the time he arrived in Areisborough Bobby was hearing the stories he had made up being related as fact.

"I was there." One Shephard insisted. "I saw it with my own eyes! Dogs laying down their tools, horses galloping off, cats spitting on rams."

"Go-arn," A Yorkshire Terrier interrupted. "if'n you sarw it, whatcha doing back here then?"

Bobby only had to nudge the conversations in the right direction by then and avoid being swept up in the retaliatory arrests being made of 'dissidents and other rabble rousers'. But even those were good, he figured, because dogs in jail were not dogs in the army, and they would be out soon enough if Prince Argus' plan worked out.

In Areisborough security was a lot tighter, especially around the Assembly, but his forged papers stood him well, allowing him to claim that he was there to catch a coach north to tend to his sick mother. He had to be careful not to approach the same checkpoint twice though, in case they remembered him and asked why he was hanging around if his mother was so ill.

Visiting an inn for servant species near Bayfield Academy he discovered that most of the guards there had been sent to join the army, leaving a token force of old rams.

"They must be enjoying that assignment." Bobby commented as he drained his beer.

"Ha! They're all too old for that." The Bartender, a bulldog missing half his teeth laughed. "Not that some of the students would object, from what I hear."

"An old friend of the family was posted there." Bobby said as he held up a digit for another beer, indicating that the bartender should pour one for himself on Bobby. When they had each taken a long sip he continued. "A fella by the name of Dan Doberman. Ever hear of him?"

"Dan? Hell yes. Used to come in here and drink himself stupid when he had the money. But he's gone too."

"To the Army?"

"No, he's in the city. Not sure where he's assigned now but I seen him hanging around Suzie's Layer Cake a few times ... when I was passing by." He added hastily, glancing at his wife, who was giving him the stink eye at the mention of the famous bordello. "When I was on my way to pay the taxes and such at the Assembly. You got to go right past the, uh, filthy place."

The bartender could not add much more to Bobby's store of information but mention of the bordello reminded Bobby that he knew someone there who may have overheard a thing or two. After finishing his beer he headed towards the centre of town.

He was not sure what hours Ronnie worked, or if she was even still employed there, but figured that keeping an eye on the alley with the entrance to the third floor was his best bet. Using a dappled cloak he had found in the pack Captain Asher had given him Bobby took up station in the shadows.

It was late afternoon before he saw anyone at all. Several ewes showed up, knocking to be let in. By the light from the stairway inside he could see that they were only lambs, really, far too young to be breeding, and the thought of what the rams might do to them made his blood boil as his protective instincts kicked in. In the next hour he saw a parade of species, slinky cats of both sexes, female pigs and cows and even a mare twice his size. There were several dogs also, silky Salukis, stocky Rottweilers and a dachshund with a long thin torso and a nose to match.

He was about to give up when he recognized Ronnie's walk in a canine wearing a hooded coat that was coming down the alley.

"Ronnie." He said, standing as she was about to pass.

The sudden appearance startled her, as did the use of her real name. At Suzie's she was known as 'Mistress Ella' to clients and coworkers alike. It took her a minute to recover her breath and recognize her former lover.

"Bobby!"

He held a digit to his snout. "Shhh! I'm using a different name now ... James."

She did not need to ask why. She had heard about his flight from Pastoria with a young ewe.

"What are you doing back here?"

Bobby wondered if he could trust her. He studied her face and saw hard lines there that had not been there before, but deep in her eyes was the same tenderness he remembered, although it almost obscured by a veil of hate and determination. He decided to take a chance and tell her what had transpired since they last met.

"Wow. I knew that you were a romantic at heart, Bobb - James, but this takes the cake."

"Can you help me Ronnie?"

"Best call me Ella, James, but how could I help you?"

"I figured that with you, ah, working on the third floor that you might have overheard something important, about the plans for the war."

Ronnie reflected on that. She had come to Areisborough to lose herself but had stumbled into the job of dominatrix, where her hatred of the rams found an outlet that allowed her to live comfortably. Of all Suzie's girls, she was the one most in demand, but it was getting harder to look at herself in the mirror each day, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she either injured a client and was arrested or overdosed on the powder that Dan supplied to help her forget. For now, however, she was still on top of it.

Clients vied for her attention. Many of them blurted out bits of confidential information to try and impress her with how important they were, but once the whips came out the boasts turned to cries and sniffling and eventually entreaties for mercy and release. And when they were in that state they would do anything she demanded of them ... anything.

"I don't know anything that would be of use now, but there is a particular client that I'm seeing tonight. He's the personal assistant to Drystan Dorset, and he claims to know everything that goes on in the Assembly Chair's office."

"Do you think you get him to talk?"

"Honey, I can get him to sing if want him too, but this work is exhausting, and takes a lot of concentration. I can't focus on servicing him and try to remember everything he says at the same time. You'll have to be there and act as my assistant when he comes."

Bobby's skin went white under his fur. "Uh, but ... I'm not ... really?"

"Dan usually sits in on the sessions, partly for security - the clients' not mine - and partly because being humiliated in front of a 'lower species' heightens the effect."

Bobby looked around, afraid that Dan might catch them talking. The big Doberman would surely turn him in for the reward in an instant, if not sooner.

"Dan is working with you tonight?"

"No, he's off on some assignment for Commander Festus. I told Suzie I would use one of the dogs that normally service ... one of the other employees. Now come with me if you're coming, because we have to get ready before the client arrives."

Bobby let Ronnie drag him up the stairs and through the door, which she had a key for. She must really be important if she has the freedom to come and go as she pleased, he thought. They climbed the stairs and came out in a foyer guarded by the largest horse Bobby had ever seen.

"Howdy, Ella." The horse said, squinting at Bobby who stood there trembling. "Who's the new meat?"

"He's called James. He's a little nervous."

"Oh, first time, eh? Don't worry kid, Suzie won't let the rough ones at you until your broken in. Some of the woolly old farts can even be quite gentle, and generous. Did Ella tell you about how we split tips here?" The horse glared threateningly down his long nose.

"Don't worry Clyde. He's assisting me tonight, so I'll make sure you get your cut."

"Humph, see that you do."

Ronnie startled Bobby by reaching up and grabbing the stallion by the nostrils. She pulled him by the sensitive skin until his eyes were at her level.

"You like working here, Clyde?"

"Yu- yu - yes ... Ella."

"Mistress Ella."

"Mistress Ella, yes, Mistress Ella."

"Then save the tough guy act for the lambs and rams, understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Ella."

She sighed as she released the horse and lead Bobby through a beaded curtain to the rooms in back. "Hard to get good help these days, what with the Army drafting all the best workers."

Ronnie took him trough a large salon where females of various species sat around in wispy lingerie or revealing corsets. There were a few males too, mostly wearing little more material than it took to cover their parts and a lot of makeup. Bobby averted his eyes and ignored the whistles, clicks and calls cast his way.

She led him to a small room filled with the kind of outfits he had seen in the salon; feathered boas, low-cut corsets, slips so shear you could read legal documents through them. There was also a rack of leather accessories, and that is where Ronnie stopped.

"Here." She said passing him a set of leather straps. "Take your clothes off and put these on."

Booby undressed after checking to be sure that the door was closed and them examined the item Ronnie had given him.

"How does this go on?" He asked, turning it back and forth in mid air. "And where is the rest of it?"

Ronnie turned and he ducked his head again because she was naked, and he could see her nipples poking out of the sparse fur on her breasts.

"Don't be so shy, James. You've done more than look at me naked, remember?"

He did remember. He remembered how they had done everything but fuck on the bench overlooking the far fields of the farm he grew up on. But the memory did not excite him or fill him with lust; it just made him feel sad for what they had lost.

"This triangular pouch goes over your parts. The two straps go over your hips and buckle up on each side of your tail. The other two straps criss-cross your chest with the big silver ring in the centre, and the mask goes over your face."

"That's not a lot of clothes."

"You're not going on an Arctic expedition, and the clients want to see a little fur." She said as she pulled on a similar outfit, but one with silver spikes sticking out from the leather.

"They won't want to touch me, will they?"

Ronnie threw back her head and laughed. "And they're sending an army after you, the ruthless ewe rapist, fugitive and now master spy, when all they need to do is flash some breasts or a twat to freeze you in your tracks."

"It's not my fault if my parents raised me to have a little decency."

"Your parents fucked like mink to make you, and probably only stopped because you were underfoot all day, ever think of that?"

An image came to Bobby's mind and his face blazed red through the fur. "Eeeuuugh."

"Suck it up, James. You'll see a lot worse tonight, but no, I won't let any of them touch you." Then her eyes took on a teasing twinkle. "Not for free, anyway."

"Okay. Now where does this red ball on the strap and the rubber thing that looks like a pine tree go?"

"Forget them. Follow me."

She took him through the salon, where clients were starting to gather. There were young rams and old rams, but no other species among them. Some were toying with the lambs. One had the dachshund on his lap. Another was slapping the ass of a male cat that was wearing even less than Bobby, and the cat seemed to be enjoying it. They all paused as Ronnie and Bobby walked through the room. Some mumbling greetings to 'Ella', some ignored them and the one paddling the cat asked when her assistant would be free.

She entered a room lit by dozens of candles and a large fire in the hearth. It was very warm, but Bobby still wished that he had more clothes on. He was sweating by the time the door opened and the client came in.

It was a ram, of course, an old one but not a very large one. That kind of ram, Bobby knew, would never be a leader in his flock because size mattered when it came to breeding rights. No, the best this one could hope for was to be an advisor to the leaders, to bask in the glow of their power, and if he was Drystan Dorset's assistant then he was orbiting the brightest star in Pastoria.

Bobby had dealt with the likes of them before. Instead of confidence they exuded conceit. Instead of commanding they were demanding, and while a real leader might at least hear a dog out if he had reasonable objections to an order he was given, the lackies would not tolerate any dissent. He was expecting a show of arrogance from the ram when it came in, so he was surprised when the ram dropped to its hands and knees and began begging 'Mistress Ella's' forgiveness.

"Forgive me, Mistress, forgive me my tardiness. I had urgent matters to attend to at the Assembly."

"Don't lie to me, you worm. Your work is about as important as a scarecrow in an empty field." She punctuated her sentence with lashes from a whip she had picked from a rack of such devices, but other than tearing the ram's shirt it had no effect through the thick wool.

"Take those cloths off, you fly-bitten excuse for a carpet."

The ram glanced nervously up at Bobby, but it bit its lip and complied. When it was naked it resumed its penitent position on the floor.

"Too slow!" Ronnie screamed, delivering a cruel lash to the ram's backside, where the wool was thin enough for it to sting.

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm sorry." The ram whined but she continued to lash out at any exposed flesh. Bobby could see old welts, from previous visits no doubt, and he heard a hint of pleasure in the gasps that accompanied the new ones.

Having reduced the ram to a quivering mass of wool, Ronnie switched implements while she directed Bobby to shackle it to a beam that came down just above their heads. The ram had to stretch and stand on the tips of its hooves to reach. At first Bobby tried to be gentle but then he remembered that this was a member of the flock that was after him and Barbara, so he jerked on the ram's wrists to get them into place, almost dislocating its shoulder in the process.

"Yesssss." The ram hissed and Bobby backed away shaking his head.

Bobby's role now was to pass whatever instrument of pain Ronnie wanted to her so that she could torture, insult and humiliate the ram non-stop, which she did with great relish. The ram twisted in his shackles, cried out and whined so much that Bobby was amazed to see a pink wand of flesh appear between its legs, lengthening and hardening even as Ronnie applied pincers to the large testicles behind it. To him it looked like a snake in a sweater. Even more surprisingly, as the ram reached the heights of ecstasy what looked like a miniature of it extended from the end on his penis and began waving about in the air. Bobby had heard older ewes whispering in the fields about that filament, and how it extended when a ram was ready to climax.

But Ronnie was not done with him yet.

"You want to cum, do you? You filthy little cotton ball. You think that you've done enough to please me? Ha! I only give relief to the most deserving, the most import, the most powerful sheep. But you ... you are just a raggedy old sweater on spindly legs."

"Oh, but I am important, Mistress. Let me prove it to you. Why just the other day Drystan Dorset was discussing crop allowances with the heads of the other flocks and ..."

There was a sharp crack and the ram almost went airborne as she smacked his backside and testicles simultaneously with a flat, leather-bound paddle.

"Crop allowances? Crop Allowances? Oh, my Lord what would we ever do without <crack> my little slave <crack> keeping an eye on our <crack> crop allowances."

"Oh-oh-okay, Mistress. What I meant to say was that on our last visit to the Treasury ..."

<CRACK> "Do I look like I care about MONEY?"

"No, no."

<CRACK> "NO WHAT?"

"NO MISTRESS! Please Mistress, have mercy. What can I say that will please you? What could be important enough to prove my value to the nation?"

Ronnie stepped back and twirled the paddle nonchalantly. "Oh, I don't know. How about that war thing I've heard about? How's that going?"

"I have no idea."

"WHAT?" <CRACK>

"Aaaagh! No, really Mistress. I don't. Drystan only discusses it with Commander Festus. They keep the maps and plans locked up in the Commander's office where no other sheep can get at them."

<crack> "So only those two see the plans?"

"As far as I know. Them and the slut of a corgi that brings then in when they want to go over them and takes them back when they are done."

Bobby's ears perked up when he heard the word 'corgi'. He must be referring to Angel. From behind the ram Bobby signalled Ronnie. He had what he needed, even if it was only another lead.

Ronnie nodded her head slightly. "Alright, you worthless breeding bag for flies, you walking moth menu. Even though you don't deserve it I'll give you some relief.

She took a jar of salve off a shelf and rubbed her paws with it. Bobby thought that she would order him to lower the client and use it on his various cuts and bruises but instead she stepped around behind the ram and pulled him against her.

Gripping its cock in both paws she began to stroke it rapidly, using the salve as a lubricant. It grew back as long and hard as it had been at the height of the ram's ecstasy, and the little tube reappeared at its tip. In less than a minute a steady stream of cum began to spurt and spray from that tube, snuffing out two candles and making the fire hiss.

She continued to stroke it, but steadily slower, until it drooped like a dead worm in her paws. Only them did she motion Bobby to release the client. He slumped to the floor with a sickly but satisfied grin on his sweat-soaked face.

"Clean up the room before you go, with your tongue. I have another client at nine."

"Yes, Mistress"

Ronnie left the room and Bobby hurried after her. She led him to a room with a shower stall, a toilet and a lot of towels.

"You get what you wanted?" she asked as she removed her leather harness and started the shower.

"Yes. Enough to keep going anyways."

"You kept your cool pretty good in there. A lot of the dogs that think they can do this work would have thrown up and run out when the blood started flowing. Feel like helping me out on this next one? The client likes pegging."

"Peggy? Who's Peggy?"

"No," she laughed, "pegging." She explained how it worked in a loud voice while she showered, and this time Bobby almost did throw up.

"Uh, no, thanks. I should get cleaned up and go. There is someone I need to track down."

Ronnie emerged from the shower, her wet fur outlining her firm young body and hiding nothing, but Bobby was unmoved. With a shrug Ronnie took a towel and wrapped it around her.

"I guess that lamb really does have her hooks in you."

"Barbara." He said. "Her name is Barbara, and she's an ewe. But I'm still sorry that things didn't work out for us Ronnie." He took her paws in his and looked down into her brown eyes. Did he detect a tear among the water dripping from her fur?

"You are too nice to be involved in this, Bobby Collie."

"James, remember?"

"To hell with that. You'll always be my Bobby and I'll always be your Ronnie and it tears me apart that you are putting yourself in so much danger."

"It's for a good cause, Ronnie."

"I suppose." She gave him a kiss on the lips, letting it linger just a bit. "Anyways, I hope that the Angels are watching over you."

"I just hope that a particular Angel is home."