FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Isiat shifted uncomfortably, sitting upright as his paws around his wrists where the manacles he'd been locked in for the last several weeks had begun to chaff. The fur there was noticeably shorter than the rest of his pelt, broken hairs snapped off from friction over his journey leaving it barely above his flesh itself.

He looked about with tired eyes, the young Vulpine having lost a good deal of his athletic build while he was held in the markets. His new masters assured him he would be permitted to regain his appearance with food and exercise, assuming his behaviour was kept in check.

He hadn't been born to slavery, but it was all that he had known for quite some time now. They'd travelled overland, crossing the great dune seas of the eastern reaches of the world. The days had been scorching, and the nights below freezing. The wooden cage he'd been stuffed in did little to insulate against the temperature.

A thick, silver collar had been affixed around his throat, locked at the back with a long iron pin and padlock that took a stupidly intricate three-pronged key to prevent the slaves from trying to open them. Several metal engravings had been hammered into the precious metal, denoting his marketable traits.

A small, sand script squiggle, with a pair of vertical lines.

_Educated. _He knew how to read and write.

Another, more complex rune he didn't recognise but had been told the meaning of.

Formal, _or _Disciplined.

He was suitable for use where maintaining a certain level of formal procedure was required. He could keep his mouth shut, in other words. He knew when to bow, when to nod, when to yes sir, no sir, and not be a sobbing wreck of a slave. He'd at least kept that much of his dignity.

The final rune looked like a starburst.

Exotic.

His fourteen tails flickered as the leathery pads of his finger brushed across the hammered mark in his collar, a rough bump in the otherwise flawlessly shaped and polished metal. Well, no kidding. Kitsunes were a rarity among the scattered, almost nomadic Vulpine clans. He was something else entirely, bearing just a token resemblance to the nine-tailed foxes. It was the tails that did it though, and that him worth more to his captors. His kind simply kept growing them over their lifetimes, until someone cut one off, at least as he understood it.

But, to the slave traders, he was simply an exotic breed. It made him worth more to collectors, or those wanting to demonstrate their wealth through their choice of servants. He was exotic. E015, by the stencil in the manacles he'd worn since the markets. Since he'd been thrown in the pits, waiting to be sold like cattle. Since he'd been dragged up on stage, and called by his number.

Since he'd been brought by a finely dressed Tiger in the back of the crowd, for a paltry fifty and some Draskar. He wasn't particularly strong, or exotic looking at the sale, coated in dust as he had been from the pits.

His tails at least kept him warm against the sharp chill of the desert night. He was pretty, in that peculiar exotic way that all new toys were. Maybe that was why he'd been brought here, to the far reaches of the dune seas. Or, perhaps he'd just been another silver collared nobody, destined for nothing more than a life of toil.

Pretty was useless in a gem mine, after all.

How long had that been ago he wondered? A month? Three? They'd stopped several times, but the travelling was slow, and long. He'd passed beyond the recognisable borders of the world, and into the unknown of the far dune seas. Where was he being taken?

He could hear voices outside of his cart, and the other slaves sharing the journey were looking around nervously. They had arrived somewhere, but would this be their destination or just another brief stop on the road?

His answer came soon enough. After all of this time, he could barely remember what outside looked like, let alone his actual name.

The rear of the wagon came down with a heavy crunch as it was opened, light from a flaming torch temporarily blinding him. He could hear the rattling of chains that secured them all to the floor as several of the slaves tried to cower back, away from the light. He took a step forward, raising his paws to shield his eyes from the harsh glare, until the manacles caught, pulling at the end of the chain.

He heard the rapid back and forth of the desert tongue, and he couldn't understand a word of it, but the sharp, pointed finger gesturing at him was easy enough to interpret. Two leather-clad guards immediately seized him, releasing him from the chain that held him to the floor, and dragged him between them out onto the cool, sandstone paved ground.

Naked, he tucked his tails around himself to ward off the cold, rising onto his knees as the guards hauled him up, each with a firm paw clasped on his shoulders.

The rhinoceros before him barked a few words in his direction, looking the new slave up and down. He repeated his words, and this time, emphasised them with the haft of his spear. He doubled over with a grunt, pain rising along his torso.

"Ooof! I- I don't understand!" Isiat gave a cry as one of his tails was struck with another spear haft, cracking sharply across the bone and making his back arch as he cried out.

_"What is the name, dog slave?" _

That, he understood at least, though the male's pronunciation made it obvious the common tongue wasn't his native language.

"Is... Isaias!" He lied quickly. He didn't know why he did it. It had seemed better than giving up what little he had.

_"Take him. Bathe. Be clean. Tomorrow, you work!" _The guard grunted, before switching back to his native tongue. The two holding him pulled him to his feet, and he staggered to keep up as they lead him towards a building nearby on the edge of the square, before shoving him roughly inside. The door slammed and locked after him.

_______________________

That had been the first night of many and by far the worst. He'd been whipped with bamboo reeds the next morning, forced to bathe with a bucket and rag, and been put to work at once cleaning floors of a long hallway, the same floors he currently was cleaning. Months had passed since then. Perhaps even longer. He no longer kept track. Time had long since lost any meaningful use when it came to the passage of the months.

He stood aside and bowed his head as a pair of silk robed nobles walked past, discussing the beauty of the Grand tiger's daughter in lewd terms, the pair of jackals cackling to one another. He kept his eyes down until their footsteps had faded, before he dipped his mop once more, and returned to cleaning the tiled floor.

At least, he mused at he looked at his reflection in the puddle on the floor, he looked as clean as the tiles were. His fur was soft, clean and dark, with the white of the underside of his muzzle and socks on his limbs split by a thin line of grey where the contrasting colours met. He'd been groomed neatly, to fit his role as a palace slave, and given plain brown robes of light fabric to denote his status along with his collar.

_"Pssst. Isaias!" _Came the urgent whisper from nearby. Glancing cautiously up, he followed the source of the sound to a thin male fossa, hissing at him from around one of the doorways leading off of the corridor.

"What, Hassim? Can't you see I'm working?!" He hissed back, using the flowing and rapid dialect of the desert tribes. His first month had involved daily lessons. A slave who didn't understand the command he was given was useless. He'd seen those who refused or simply couldn't comprehend the tongue sent away to the mines in chains. The odd, not-quite felid looked like he'd struck him.

_"Oh please? It will just take a moment. I can't move this furniture by myself, and they need this all rearranged! Please?" _His golden eyes were begging, and Isiat sighed, looking at the length of the hallway. He was almost done anyway and wasn't due anywhere else for at least another fifteen minutes before the midday chimes rang out.

"Fine. Let me finish here." He hissed back and hastened to complete his duties on the remaining tiles, before setting the mop and bucket just inside the door and looking about the lavishly furnished room. He snipped the door closed behind himself as quietly as he could.

Green carpet had been laid across the floor, and the space was lit by a hanging chandelier of gold and crystal. A desk dominated the central area, along with a large, purple silk-covered four-post bed. Hassim was busy trying to move a large chaise and struggling to lift one end of it.

_"Here! Get the other side!" _

Isiat grunted as he stooped low to get a grip beneath the furniture, straining his muscles as they moved the entire thing in a burst of shuffling feet and quiet curses, before lowering it back to the floor, and scooting it a few inches until it was flush against the new wall.

"There. Anything else, or was it actually just the one thing?" Isiat gave an annoyed growl as he spoke. The words of the desert tribes were still foreign to him, but supposedly he spoke with the fluency of a native-born linguist. Languages came quickly to him. He preferred to know what was going on around him when people whispered in hushed tones.

The Fossa grunted and gave a shrug, his almost feline-like tail swishing back and forth.

"Just that. If I need to move anything else, I'll just have to deal. Thanks, Isaias. I owe you one."

"You owe me several at this point Hassim. It's fine. You can return my kindness when I need a favour." Isiat gave a soft chuckle, though the Fossa hadn't moved, instead, wringing his wrists quietly. He took a step towards Isiat, and reached up, rubbing the edge of his silver collar awkwardly.

"Well, uh... how about now?"

Isiat blinked, his mind taking a moment to catch up. In the time it did take, the Fossa had pushed him back against the chaise, forcing him to sit as the mongoose-like anthro knelt between his knees, claws already starting to work on Isiat's waistband.

"What?! Right here? Right now?" He hissed urgently. At the same time, he also made no efforts to stop the other slave, glancing at the door cautiously.

_"You said yourself you had some time before you're missed. This way, at least you'll have one less need to worry about for the day..." _A warm muzzle kissed against the already peeking maroon tip of his Vulpine length, coaxing it quickly from his sheath. Dexterous paws wrapped around his base, pumping eagerly to tease the rest of his shaft from hiding, straight from his sheathe to the warm muzzle now wrapped about his spade-like tip. Fingers curled around the base of his knot and squeezed. Tight.

The Fossa's paws were quick and experienced, pulling his shaft deeper into the inviting warmth of his muzzle while that tongue of his curled around the tip, teasing a trickle of watery precum from his sensitive flesh. Hassim's lips sealed around the length and sucked as if his life depended on it. If someone caught them like this, it might very well be the case! His free paw cradled Isiat's furry sac, rolling his heavy testes between the slaves talented fingers.

Isiat let out a soft huff of pleasure... this... wasn't new or unusual. Slaves had nothing else to offer in exchange for favours or help aside from a quick bit of sexual gratification. Male slaves would often take opportunities where they presented themselves. The only female servants were the harem and dancing girls, and they were strictly off-limits. The male slaves weren't even supposed to be caught looking if they passed in a hallway on pain of castration.

Still, Isiat had simply never found himself in a situation where he'd needed to provide or be repaid like this. He did his work diligently and promptly and kept his head down to avoid attention or owing anyone anything. It was always a risk for the slaves to do anything like this. It was reckless, and foolish, and especially here in the palace! They'd be sent to the mines, or worse!

But on the other paw...

He shut his mouth to silence his grunt as his prick gave a sharp throb, coating the Fossa's tongue with a ribbon of preseed. The male lapped it up eagerly, giving an odd chitter of enjoyment while he nursed on Isiat's cock. He suckled hard, rasping his rough-textured tongue along the underside of Isiat's shaft in increasingly eager and urgent licks, his eyes going between his work and the closed door, ears perked for any sign of activity.

Isiat couldn't stand it, and gripped the submissive male's ears tightly with his paws, thrusting his hips at the same time as he pulled the male down. Hassim's fingers clenched around his knot as Isiat forced him to deep-throat his breeding spire, unable to resist what he was being offered now. The dappled shaft was positively throbbing inside the warm orifice offered, and his knot was pressed lewdly against the Fossa's dark lips, fucking his muzzle with desperate, rapid humps.

"Nggh- Fuck!" He finally grunted as the Fossa gave a last squeeze around his knot, precum slickened fingers rapidly stroking along the sensitive root of his shaft. Isiat's furred sac tightened, and he unloaded his climax into the other slave's waiting maw with gusto. Loud huffs from Isiat's nostrils were the only sound in the room aside from the Fossa's steady gulping as he swallowed, causing his throat muscles to ripple and contract along the shaft nestled within them.

As soon as his climax was finished, Isiat let go of Hassim's ears, finally allowing the not-quite felid to fall back onto his ass, panting for air. His tongue whipped out across his lips, cleaning the last of the mess from his features.

_"There. Paid in full I assume?" _He sighed with a toothy grin. Isiat would have laughed if the other slave's expression hadn't suddenly changed so gravely. Isiat's head whipped around, staring in alarm at the now open doorway, and the elegantly dressed and bejewelled male tiger standing in the doorway. He managed at least to pull his waistband back up as he fell to her knees beside Hassim, the pair of them almost kissing the floor.

"My master."

"My master."

They both uttered the words at the same time. Isiat felt warm, pin-pricks of sweat on his forehead while he kept his face towards the ground. His heart was hammering harder than it had been even when he was first captured by slavers.

*"This isn't what you were sent in here to do, slave. And you, kitsune. You weren't sent in here at all, which begs the question, just how have we ended up here?" * The Tiger's words were slow and methodical, deliberately emphasizing the word slave as if to remind them of their precariously delicate station within the palace.

"No excuse my master. I asked Isaias for help, and-"

*"Silence! I didn't ask you to speak, Fossa. Get out. Make yourself scarce, before I have you sent to the mines. You're fortunate I'm in a good mood, else I'd have your collar melted and replaced with iron." * The growl was low, full of malice and threat, and Isiat could hear how fast Hassim's feet were moving as he scrambled to get out of there.

The door slammed shut after him, but still, Isiat kept his face down, refusing to show even the slightest signs of disobedience. He could hear the tiger moving around, walking from one end of the room and then back to the other, as well as the sounds of fabric shifting. The room grew dimmer as the curtains were drawn closed.

" Come here, slave."

Isiat rose quickly, turning and marching to the chaise where the Tiger had sat. His eyes remained downturned.

This was a bad idea. You'll be sent to the mines, or killed, or castrated, or fed to the dogs, or-

*"Look at me. Stand up straight. You're shaking like a frightened pup." * The male's laugh was degrading, but Isiat did his best not to let it show, taking a deep breath to try and recover his frayed nerves. His eyes came up along with his chin, meeting the Tiger's fierce, green irises.

A long few moments passed as the Tiger seemed to study him, trying to pick apart his character from his eyes alone. After a few long moments more, the contact finally broke, and the tiger busted himself sizing up the rest of Isiat. He didn't dare move so much as a muscle.

"Strip."

What? Why would he-

Isiat saw the predatory look returning and heard the faint buildings of a growl. He didn't dare hesitate any longer, and quickly shed the robes he'd been given, placing them by his side. Utterly naked, he felt vulnerable and helpless. The tiger was a full head higher than him and easily would have outmatched him in a contest of strength. He did his best to hide the fact most of his tails were attempting to tuck between his legs.

The tiger rose, padding around Isiat in a slow circuit. He could feel the males eyes as they swept up and down over him and flinched as the tiger's fingers graced across the base of his spine.

"Do you know who I am?"

Isiat shook his head. He didn't pay attention to just whom he was serving. He'd been specifically instructed to obey the wishes of anyone in the palace who didn't wear a collar and to show them the utmost respect and humility.

"No, my master. I do not."

The tiger gave a low chuckle.

*"I am the crown prince's bastard brother, Ka'al. You may call me master, and nothing else. Is that understood?" * He left no room for argument. Slaves could be killed for less. Isiat had seen it.

"Yes, master." Isiat nodded and held his paws flat against his thighs. He felt liable to break into violent trembling at the slightest provocation, and took another deep breath, trying to maintain his dignity and composure. His tail tips were still shaking.

*"Good. I need a pretty exotic like you for entertainment. It's your lucky day, Vulpine..." * The male's rumble was dark, and Isiat didn't see the humour in it. He spoke up quickly.

"I can perform, I can sing, to an ext- ah!" Isiat yelped in alarm as he was grabbed unceremoniously by the scruff, whining as his face was driven against the wall. His entire body was forced roughly against it. He could feel the tiger's breath, hot and wet against the back of his neck as he shifted about behind him. Teeth nipped as his scruff in a show of dominance.

*"Did I give you leave to speak?" * Ka'al snarled, adding a little more pressure to his hold. Isiat shook his head as much as the Tiger allowed him to.

"N-no, master! I'm sorry, master!"

*"Good. Keep quiet, slave. Now move your tails, or I'll have them cut off, and you'll be sent to the mines!" * Isiat was shaking now and did as he was told, his tails fanning out to the sides and along his back between himself and the tiger as he closed his eyes, trying not to whimper again.

A paw closed around the base of his tails, and mercifully, he felt his scruff released, though the tiger's teeth were still right up against his flesh, the other male's breathing washing along his nape just above his collar.

Isiat tensed at the feeling of something hot and hard pressing against the underside of his tails, the tiger rubbing his length along the cleft of his exposed rump. Ka'al's free paw gripped him by the hip, and Isiat could do little more than let his master adjust his posture to suit his needs, pushing his hips out further from the wall, back against the questing feline cock behind him. Isiat's length had mostly retreated into his sheathe but refused to conceal itself entirely.

He knew at once when his master found what he was looking for, the barbed tip of his shaft dimpling the vulpine's tail star as he pushed against it. Preseed smeared against the tight opening, making the Tiger's grinding motions smoother, threatening to push in entirely.

*"Relax, pup. It'll sting less if you're not tensing. I don't bite..." * Ka'al growled, and eased his hips forward. Isiat's muzzle curled in a silent grimace as the Tiger spread him open, easing the tip inside of the unwilling slave. He gasped, however, when the tiger's teeth closed around the nape of his neck and yanked back, shoving himself forward as he pulled the vulpine's hips flush against his own with a slap of skin and fur colliding.

_Fuck, it hurts! _

Despite that though, he didn't cry out, and just bit his tongue, huffing loudly through his nostrils while the Tiger gave him a few moments to adjust to the thick piece of feline breeder spreading him open. His body tensed hard around the invading member, and he could feel in agonizing detail every twitch and throb of his rapist's girth. He could smell the feline's lust now that the male was pressed against him. He knew he'd be reeking of what he'd done afterwards as well.

When the feline drew back, however, Isiat cringed, letting out a quiet whimper that the lion shushed away, his large, predatory teeth grazing the tops of Isiat's ears.

*"Shhh-shhh-shh, I forget you canines don't have barbs... Relax, slave. It'll hurt less, because one way or another, you'll make a pretty little exotic pet for your masters. Hell, maybe in time you'll even come to enjoy it." * He chuckled darkly as he thrust back in again, spreading Isiat out around the tapered girth once more. This time, his paw upon the vulpine's hip moved with him, reaching around to grip the peeking upper half of Isiat's shaft, leathery paw pads gliding against the slickened, dappled length.

His grin only widened at his discovery.

*"Or perhaps you're already enjoying it, and just need a little encouragement..." * Ka'al's paw closed around his shaft, stroking smoothly and briskly across the sensitive exposed flesh, his thumb working in small circles across Isiat's tip as the tiger settled into a steady rhythm of fucking the silver collared slave against the wall.

Isiat's mind was a wash of conflicting signals and thoughts, as he was violated and pleasured all at once. His prick twitched and stiffened against the tiger's touches, and drew a strangled grunt from him. His backdoor still ached, but the pain had grown dull, and the additional stimulation of a warm paw around his shaft was doing a wonderful job of distracting him from the discomfort. He resisted the instinctual desire to hump the offered paw, his fur standing on end each time the barbed shaft was ranked backwards through his passage.

He'd seen a few of the pleasure slaves before, but very seldom were they male. He found himself conflicted. On one paw, his current position was unlikely to improve any. He cleaned, he cooked, and did as his master's instructed. If the Tiger was to be believed, he might well find better quarters, food, and treatment in his captivity, at the cost of, well...

He huffed loudly as the Tiger rammed forward again, forcing his vulpine shaft into Ka'al's waiting palm where he quickly cupped the knot, making short work of stroking against the sensitive root of his canine shaped length. Realistically, he knew he had no choice in his position. Slaves didn't choose their duties. It was unrealistic to think his own opinion had any sway in the matter.

What he did have absolute control of, however, was his reaction to the situation, and that might well influence the tiger's treatment of him.

He bit his tongue again and tasted metal in indecision. In the end, his feral instincts chose for him and reacted as any creature may have to finding themselves underneath their owner. He sighed softly, finding strength in his paws as he pressed them back against the wall, and rolled his hips back against the tiger, simultaneously sliding his cock against Ka'al's pleasure bringing grip. His body relaxed around the male roughly pressing into him, and at once, the Tiger took notice.

The paw around his knot began to twist and stroke and the thrusts picked up the pace, as did the accompanying warm splashes of precum coating his insides. The male was getting close, and soon. Isiat whined, a pitiful, submissive noise as he humped himself both into the male's paw, and back onto the prick hilted inside of him, but it did the trick.

He could feel the tiger's shaft jumping and pulsing within his upturned rear, and his own was giving a similar show, leaking precum against the wall he had been forced against, and forced to accept the 'gift' of his master looming over him. The tiger's hips were almost a blur now, and his teeth closed against Isiat's throat, fucking him wildly while tugging his scruff just above his collar.

A roar filled his ears and warmth flowed from the tiger's jumping breeder, the barbs flaring roughly against the vulpine's prostate. Isiat lost himself shamefully in his master's paw, panting and yapping noisily while his knot was worked over almost painfully, only encouraging the white streaks with which he painted the wooden panelling. He'd been marked and claimed by one of his owners. There was no point in being shameful about it now...

He painted as he came down from the peak for the second time that day, wincing as the feline yanked his barbed shaft from his body. He felt a wet trickle escaping down his thigh, and remained leaning against the wall, panting. He felt sore and used. He felt pleasured. He felt violated... He neither understood nor hoped to understand exactly how he felt. His masters didn't care how slaves felt. If he wanted to keep his head-

"T-thank you, master..." he panted quietly, intent on giving the tiger no reason to send him to the mines.

"You're not done, slave... Get over here and clean me off... I'll let you know when I'm done."

Isiat nodded weakly and turned so he could sink on his knees before his master, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

Well, whatever it is, you're still breathing. All plans start with that...

_______________________

He lay as still as possible when the hammer struck. They'd dripped acid into the bolt half an hour ago, giving it time to work against the welds of the silver of his original collar. When it struck, the jammed pin shot free from the padlock, skittering across the floor of the workshop before the entire collar swung free.

He reached up, rubbing his bare neck stiffly, a quiet look of relief on his features. How long had it been now? Three? Four years a slave? He couldn't rightly say. Too long. The brief moment of freedom would be short-lived, he knew, but he savoured it all the same.

One day, if I do well...

Opening his eyes, he glanced about. The three guards surrounding him as he sat on the anvil all had their spears lowered towards him while the dark green crocodile fetched the new collar from a shelf. It was heavier than his last one, but gold was a much heavier material as well. In overall size, it was about the same. The new marks had already been struck on its surface in addition to his original ones while they had waited, denoting his new duties and status.

Pleasure slave. Entertainer. Dancer. Breeder.

Ka'al had made sure to give him some proper training between long sessions of attempting to outlast the feline's stamina. He'd given him purpose, and skills to fulfil that role. He'd moved from a simple bootlick to the more pampered quarters just off of Ka'al's own, where he was kept at the tiger's beck and call. It wasn't all bad at least.

He'd been given robes of fine silk and sandals of well-worked leather for his feet, and once a moon, a groomer came to ensure his fur was neat and oiled, and his claws were kept trimmed and filed. He ate three meals a day when his master did and accompanied him when asked, learning the ins and outs of the palace.

He had become something of a trophy to show off, the pretty exotic slave kitsune, tugged around on a golden chain. When his master asked for his body, he complied willingly. When he was asked to serve his master's clients, he did so without complaint, putting on as much of a show as he needed to impress, often pleasuring them during long meetings and conversations that would have struggled to keep anyone interested.

He had both fucked and been fucked countless times, and as often as not was asked for by name rather than simply being referred to as 'slave'. Even the guards to his quarters favoured his muzzle with their presence, perhaps a perk of their particular posting that his owner, Ka'al had permitted them to take the luxury of.

He had learned fast. His master was not directly in line for the throne, nor did he have any desire to hold it.

*"A throne limits the one who sits in it more than it gives back to them. I will stick to my business. My half brother can have it for all I care." * He'd explained when Isiat had politely asked. While his master had his moments of force and roughness, his mind was as sharp as a well-honed dagger, and Isiat often struggled to keep up when he absently tried to explain the business he was running.

Ka'al was a trader, and a successful one at that, at least comparatively for the region. He ran caravans to all the major settlements that were laden with goods and then returned them weighed down with coin and riches. Isiat watched quietly when he had meetings from the side, watching for his master's signal to step in and offer his unique 'services' to his client.

Be that using his muzzle, his paws, his ass, or even his tails, it mattered little, as long as the client was pleased, and gave their signature on the bottom of whatever documents Ka'al pushed in front of them.

He was a simple pleasure slave, and nothing was off-limits for what he would do or have done to him.

Often he would finish a day with the taste of the last merchant still on his lips before Ka'al shoved him down and demanded his piece of the action he had been forced to calmly watch through. Isiat made sure to give his best performances for him, moaning and pushing back against the tiger as he was fucked with vigour.

The tiger was as demanding of his body as each of his other clients combined.

True to his thinking, it indeed was far better to still be breathing, and keeping his master's good graces, even if that meant he had to submit his body each night.

He'd watched as Ka'al took his fury out on other slaves who wronged him, and stood by quietly as they had dragged broken bodies from his chambers. He made himself swear to never end up like that. He swore it every night, as long as he still had the collar around his neck.

When his master set tasks for him, he set about them with honest enthusiasm, always intent on pleasing his owner to the best of his ability, be that in menial tasks or sensual pleasure. When he was told to suck another male off, bed a female, or present himself for use, he obeyed without hesitation. Honestly, while often it left him sore and reeking of sex, it was a thousand steps up from the whips and hard labour of the mines. He'd have endured it a thousand times over to avoid the lash once.

At least here, he was challenged mentally as well as physically. Ka'al taught him the intricacies of trading, usually as snippets of conversation between favours, or when the vulpine was pressing his nose against the tiger's rough fur just above his sheathe with a muzzle full of cock... Isiat drank up the knowledge to the best of his abilities. Better to be a jack of all trades, so to speak, than swinging a pickaxe in the mines.

He'd have done it forever to avoid a worse fate.

______________________________

*"You know, I've been thinking of rewarding you... a promotion of sorts, so to speak." * Ka'al had started to speak, and it had taken Isiat a few long moments before he realised the tiger was speaking to him directly.

He gasped, panting softly as he raised his muzzle from the Tiger's barbed shaft, running his tongue up along the underside of the fleshy pink member. He pressed his tongue and lips at the tip, a motion that never failed to make the tiger purr deep in his chest while his Vulpine slave lapped up the precum dribbling from his spire. He swallowed the bitter, salty liquid like it was a gift. Whatever it took to please his Master.

The last of it disappeared down his gullet with an overly practised and suitably cheeky swallow.

"Me, master?" He asked after another moment of silence.

*"Yes. You, Isaias. You've been a good and loyal slave to me for what? Three years now? *

Isiat thought about it for a moment. Two summers at least, and three springs, if he recalled correctly by the changing of the palace gardens.

"Nearly four, by my count Master."

"Just so. I plan to leave soon to expand my ventures, though I'll not need slaves where I'm bound. However, my half-brother..."

"The new King, sir?" Isiat looked up hopefully, his ears perking and twitching about. Ka'al's father had passed last winter of a fever, and the throne had passed down to the next in line, as it did. Isiat had paid little attention. That was far, far above his station or concern.

Ka'al almost looked bored by the correction, rolling his eyes and a paw in a ho-hum sort of motion. He pushed the vulpine slave back down on his shaft for a few moments more.

"Long may he reign, so on, so forth... His name day is soon, just before I leave. He and his wife are displeased with their current manservant. He is attentive but clumsy, and a poor choice for the royal household. I think you would make a fitting replacement."

Isiat beamed with pride, and nodded enthusiastically, pausing once more in his work to reply.

"It would be my honour to serve him, master."

*"It would be your duty to serve him. Whatever he asks, without hesitation. A slave does not choose their role..." * the tiger growled, quickly pushing Isiat's muzzle back down on his hard cock. Isiat murmured in agreement, suckling upon his master's fleshy spire, his tongue dragging across the barbs of his tip.

*"But yes... it is an honour to serve them. Do not disappoint me in this role, Isaias. You would not want to disappoint me." * There was a note of warning in his master's tone, but it was quickly lost to a deep purr as he humped himself into his slave's warm throat.

Isiat suckled on him diligently like a good pleasure slave, swirling his tongue around the shaft and letting his throat ripple across the pink length until his Master's claws were threatening to leave marks against the back of his scalp and his vision began to fade from just how long Ka'al kept him pinned there while rope after rope of cum coated his tastebuds.

Oh, Isiat had no plans to disappoint.

Oh, how he'd have laughed and taken his chances with the dunes and the fetch hounds if he'd known things would end up like this.

Anxiously, he ran a paw across his hip, feeling the scarred and knotted skin that had healed over his royal pleasure slave brand. The royal slaves were branded. It was an honour, but a painful one. They held the role for life. Along with his golden collar, they added a more permanent sort of restraint. They did not need the option of it being removed later.

The jewelled dagger was still in his paw where he had snatched it up from his owner's desk and with a brief flash of red, the next thing he'd known he was standing over the body. His owner's body. The king's body.

Isiat was panting, his chest spattered with arterial blood from where he had stabbed the knife into his owner's throat over and over and over until the lion had ceased moving, a pool slowly spreading around his feet. It stained his white fur red, darker than the separating line between his patterning and the rest of his black pelt.

Since being 'added' to the royal entourage almost a year ago, he had endured. That was a good word for it. He'd been forced almost nightly to attend to the needs of either the king himself, the queen, their guards, guests... The list was almost endless. But last night... He really couldn't remember most of it.

He didn't know much of the gods they followed out here, but their God of fertility was a kitsune. That alone was enough to earn the temple's attention though. He knew his kind's seed was potent, but the temple had used him like a toy, tying him to a bench before a line of priestesses had used him all night long for their devotions, ritualistically drawing both his blood and seed while chanting over and over. He was sore. He was humiliated.

But, he was still alive, and his owner was not...

The thought gave him pause as if reasserting his presence in the order of things.

He was still alive. That was the basis on which every plan started. He was alive, and therefore, could further action his situation to increase his odds of staying that way. Think Isiat, think!

He was still exhausted from his torment, his body recovering from the blood that had been let from his veins. His mind was still sharp, but the collar around his neck would be a dead giveaway to his identity should he try to flee. He would need something to cover it.

He pilfered a robe from his former master's closet, along with a decorative shemagh that would cover his neck. Most of the guards would recognise his face if they saw him. After all, he had been here for years and was sure there wasn't one amongst them who hadn't fucked him at one point or another.

Still, with enough confidence and luck, he might yet be able to brazenly walk right out the front doors... The robe was that of the merchant guild, complete with the golden scales emblazoned across its back. He stole a fistful of golden Draskar from his master's desk while the lion's body cooled.

He needed somewhere, some way to get as far from here as possible.

The massive airship, an envoy from the dragon clans most likely, hovered low above the edge of the city. He could disappear easily on something that size, blending among the crew or hiding away in a cargo space...

He fled into the night, towards the lights of the outer city, beyond the walls of the castle. By the time any alarm would be sounded, he would be long gone, and his fortunes, as it would happen, would have changed drastically.