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Lethal Ritual

Part one of two

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Adagiodajiang

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They'd never intended to be captured, Alyssa and Sandor. The princess of the taur tribe fought hoof and nail as her arms were dragged behind her back and she was hauled from her woodland home, amongst nature and fine, soft things, where her true zest for life could be held in the forefront of her mind at all times. Taurs were different, of course, to other anthros - and prized for that reason, even if they were not always as respected by other creatures as they should have been.

Sandor, a fox mage with skills that the non-magic wielding taurs could not dream of, for it was not in their affinity with the earth and nature, had been tasked to guard her, only...he had not managed to guard his love as well as he'd thought that he would be able to. Thrown in the dungeon of the land adjoining theirs, he hadn't even been allowed to stay with Alyssa, not when he had been dragged off, stripped of his clothes so that he only had tattered rags left to wear, not even with the light armour that he had had, before, in which to guard her. A mage's greatest armour, of course, was their magic and his staff, Kastalia, had been taken from him too. In his weakened state, the fox could only kick and snarl at his captors as he was hauled from the dungeon to a larger room.

"Let go of me!" He growled, though Sandor's words lacked the bite behind them that they truly needed. "Fools! Do you know that she's the princess? Ransom her and let her go home, at least - let Alyssa go!"

The guards of the dungeon where they had been kept, however, did not care. All the wolves did, looming in grey fur, did was drag him into the stone-walled room, large and round, not even with a corner for anyone to hide in.

Sandor shuddered, though straightened his back as much as he could, his paws bound behind his back. Tugging experimentally at the rope binding them, he found that it held fast. There was a way to break bonds like that, if he could only bring his arms up and over his head - but he was not alone in the large room with magically burning torches set into the braziers on the wall, oh no.

He eyed up the other occupant suspiciously: a grey wolf with golden stripes curling around his body. He was naked, though sat with his knees pointed up and hunched over, as if that would be enough to protect his modesty. Sandor wasn't about to stare at him for that, however, shaking his head and pinning his pointed fox ears back.

"Who are you?" He said, distrust flickering in his tone as it dropped an octave lower than normal. "Why are you here? Are you a prisoner, like me?"

The wolf looked up at him, one ear twitching. His chest was broad and his fur was dirtied, but he looked like he had been well-cared for otherwise, before his imprisonment. Sandor's heart ached for Alyssa. They hadn't stood a chance, not after being attacked by the centaurs and cervitaurs... But did that mean that that particular wolf on the floor was not one of them?

"I suppose I am a mage, like you," the wolf said slowly, moving his tongue thickly in his mouth almost as if he had forgotten what it was to speak. "But I am too weak to fight back. I'm...Filo. The mage hunters captured me today..."

Sandor shook his head, looking down on the wolf without really meaning to. He just didn't want to sit, not when he still had the tiny liberty of standing and moving around. Something in the fox told him that he wouldn't even get that for very much longer.

"I see... Are they hunting mages? Why?"

Filo shook his head.

"I don't know, only that they are mage hunters of this land, seeking out anthros like you and me. They said that I am to be executed today."

Sandor gulped, something heavy and unyielding settling in the pit of his stomach. What did that mean for him? Was he going to be forced to watch someone else die?

And where was Alyssa?

The wooden door opened with a creak, offering entry to a pair of foxhound anthros, who had to be twins - for they moved in perfect sync, though their markings in tan and black and white were slightly different. Not so much so, however, that one would have been able to tell them apart without giving them both a good, hard look first though.

Filo nodded to them, minutely, and Sandor bristled, the hackles on the back of his neck rising, even if he could not do anything. He backed away a little, tugging at his bonds fruitlessly, but did not pin his back to a wall; he didn't want to be trapped.

"This is the first to be executed," Tuka said, though neither foxhound bothered introducing themselves to their prisoners, the mages that they had captured. "Paka, bring the paint... The one infused with bergamot."

The foxhound shot Filo a devious look, almost sadistic, that Sandor could not help but catch.

"It's time to give these mages a taste of their own medicine..."

Sandor clamped his jaws shut, heart hammering in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. His body wanted to do something, anything, but...he could not. Trapped between fight, flight and freeze, his body locked into the latter, breathing shortly and shallowly, not enough to get the right amount of oxygen into his bloodstream.

"The centaurs are hiring our services more and more," Puka commented, as he laid out the paints, small pots and brushes, though runes were marked on the side of the pots, a label peeling off as if it had not been adhered securely enough. "But that one is different... The one that they said was the partner of the cervitaur princess."

Sandor stiffened, yet his tail tucked down. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to flee. Just why, oh, why did he get himself into situations like that? He sweated anxiously, knowing that the foxhounds would smell it. They may have been a kind of dog, though they were far from placid. In times gone by, they had worked for nobles in hunting down foxes and other game, scenting them out and sinking their teeth into their bodies to end their lives in some of the most savage of ways. At least, that had been what his texts and books, in his mage studies, had said.

"Indeed, but taking care of this prey first," Tuka said, indicating Filo with a gentle, pointed inclination of his head, "will ensure that he gets a good show. Just to see what is coming to you..."

Sandor bristled but tried to look unaffected. They could try to break him, yes, but he wasn't going to fall and crumble that easily, no. Maybe he could think quickly, find a way to get both him and Filo out of there, save Alyssa...

Yet the rite had already begun as Tuka forced the wolf's torso back, his ankles also bound. The difference in their clothing - or lack of it - was obvious as the fox tried to curl around himself, to hide what was barely even covering his crotch. The shreds of the trousers that he had been wearing had a big gape in them to the right side of the crotch, yet the foxhounds were fully clothed in clean, fresh cloth and leather jerkins.

Practical clothing.

The kind of clothing, however, that could be removed quickly also...

"No... Please... I mean no one any harm..."

"Quiet, mage," Tuka snapped, eyes sharply intent as his ears pricked up. "We don't care for your kind..."

What "their kind" actually was...well...Sandor never found out. They had already decided that mages were the scourge of the land, something to be purged. Many feared magic because it was something that could grow out of control and there were some, true, that had used it for criminal means, to harm others. Yet with his fire and wind affinities, Sandor could never imagine doing such - until he had been forced to use it in self-defence.

Maybe things in the world were changing after all.

He didn't know the runes that they were painting on Filo's groin, around the base of his cock (soft, at that time, of course) and even over his balls. The fox knew that it was crude to watch, though maybe if he kept his eyes on them and didn't let them be taken away, he could do something? That was all that Sandor had in mind, tail desperately tucked down, not even a single muscle twitching, as they painted the runes.

The foxhounds, however, knew their job well, adding the runes that would force the mage to compress his magic and vitality into the semen, allowing them one last orgasm. And...no more. It was a simple effect, truly, a way in which to fully drain a mage of their powers and end their lives at the same time. For, once that final orgasm was had, the most pleasurable, explosive of their life, they would be no more. The semen would be harvested and collected, in that fashion, their life force brimming over in their semen, which would then be sold on the black market.

Simple, of course, and highly profitable. It did not even cross the minds of the foxhounds that a life had to be lost and taken for them to earn what they did. Others just wanted the mages wiped out of existence, which was more than fine with them too.

Forcing Filo to stand upright, runs crossing his lower abdomen and even the tops of his thighs too, Tuka bent him over at the waist, kicking his hind paws apart.

"Stand still, scum!"

The foxhound's muzzle twisted in open derision, though not even Filo could have anticipated what was coming to him. For Sandor was forced to watch - he couldn't look away - as Tuka's cock sprang free of his trousers, the clothing sliding down around his hips and buttocks only far enough so that he could get his fleshy rod out, hard and thickening up even further as the fox gasped.

He forced the wolf to bend over further, his legs slightly bent to get down to the right height for the foxhound, and dragged Filo back onto his aching prick. The wolf's yell would stay with Sandor for the rest of his life, somewhere between a howl and a strangled yelp, the sound of a creature who was being forced against their will, taken and used. And there he was, with nothing at all that he could do about it...

He tugged again at his bonds, fighting and twisting, though trying not to be too obvious about it as Tuka penetrated Filo sharply from behind, fucking him in crude, short thrusts of his cock, working his prick in deeper and deeper without any help or preparation at all. Yet no one could have expected their captors to help in the slightest, no, not as Filo begged and whined and pleaded, tears falling from his eyes.

"No... No, please...ah...don't... No..."

"This is where you end, mage scum," Paka sneered, crouching in front of the wolf to add runes to his cock too, on all sides, the potion dripping from the brush as he painted it accurately and neatly. "No more spells for you... But, don't worry, your essence will live on and fetch a pretty penny too..."

"Noooooo..."

The wolf whined and tried to struggle, but Sandor could only assume that they had given him something more, probably a potion or a poison, to weaken him further, so that he could not fight back. For Filo was forced to bend over, the foxhound ramming into his unprotected, vulnerable backside, closer and closer to orgasm. Even the slam of the hound's cock into him forced his cock to grow hard and erect and Sandor started putting together the pieces of what was happening in his mind.

The foxhounds, after all, did not need to explain fully what was happening for a fox like Sandor to grasp it.

No...

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"Please... No... I don't want to die, please... I mean no one any harm - ah! Noooo, please, please, let me go!"

The wolf's cries grew more and more feverish and desperate, yet there was an air of pleasure in them too.

"Nnnngggghhhhh," he groaned, long and low, as if he had been holding back that moan for quite some time. "Ohhhhh, please..."

"There you go, little mage slut," Puka growled, setting himself up before the wolf, who was trapped in desperate need. "Let it come... The end of your life every drop, drip-drop, drip-drop... Can you hear your dying moan yet?"

Filo didn't act as if he heard them, not much, though his groans were interspersed with pleading, knowing that his orgasm was near. And yet he had to hold back, to do something, somehow, Sandor urging him to restrain himself, not to let the foxhounds win, all from the side lines. The fox bared his teeth, twisting his head back and forth, but his legs were weak and his stomach roiled. Had they also given him to make him weaker than he should have been?

Fight it, you've got to fight it...

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Though Sandor didn't know how to fight that kind of enemy and, even though he had guarded his lover, he didn't know how to fight very well at all. He'd anticipated that him being there with her as a guard, as a mage, would be more than enough. Clearly, it had only made himself and Alyssa, together, more of a target than they would have been separately.

"Guuuuuuhhhh... Nnnnnggghhh..."

The wolf's moans came more and more swiftly, panting heavily, his eyes closed tightly. Sandor growled and held his breath, willing Filo with every particle of his being.

Hold on! He shouted inwardly, hoping that his thoughts could reach the wolf against all the odds. Fight it! Hold on, Filo!

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Yet there was no way for the wolf to hold back, not when the foxhounds were as skilled in their task of draining mages as they were. Paka prepared a bottle with a cork popped free, the mouth wide so that there would be no trouble at all in catching every drop. They knew something that Sandor did not - and that was exactly when the wolf's orgasm was coming.

As Filo's tail wantonly lifted, stiffening and flagging against Tuka's abdomen, the foxhound nodded to his brother over the wolf's shoulder. It was time.

They forced Filo over the edge, a long, drawn-out moan cutting through the air. Dimly, Sandor was aware of a whisk of air fluttering around the torches, making the flames leap and dance and the shadows cast long, daunting lines across the ground and the walls, as if they were joining in with the ritual too.

"Mmmmmmnnnnnnnn... Ohhhhhhhhhhh!"

Filo couldn't help himself, yet the wolf was never supposed to. He was never supposed to be able to hold back as the runes glowed all over his cock and his crotch, the tops of his thighs, everything leading into his orgasm. It was the end, the final end, the end from which there would never again be any coming back from, no, not at all. And he couldn't stop it, not as blue semen poured from his cock in thicker spurts than would have been normal for the wolf, for he was emptying every last drop of cum in his balls from his body - as well as the magical essence that had been trapped in there.

That was why the reinforced - not just glass - bottle that Paka had prepared was as tall as it was, though it was no larger around than a wine bottle. It just allowed a lot more volume to fill it as the mage's essence was drained from him in the light blue semen, glowing as it splattered down into the bottle. Paka angled it carefully to make sure that not a single drop escaped or was lost.

"Looks like he was an ice mage," Paka commented, though the hound was not all that interested in it, as the wolf was just another mage to him. "Huh. You would have thought he would have fought back against being subdued, earlier. Guess not."

Filo struggled, his eyes snapping open wide, jaws agape. A strangled moan raked itself from his lips like a dying gasp, yet it was done and his body rocked in orgasm as the foxhound behind him thrust firmly. Every stroke of his cock forced the wolf's body to ache and respond, crushing it up against that overly sensitive gland tucked up within his tail hole, forcing out more and more of his semen, pleasure raking through his veins like the touch of ice.

Yet ice was not gentle in its cold embrace of the end.

As the last drop of cum dripped into the bottle, Filo's body...went still. There was no sudden shock or any kind of drama to the moment, not as he went limp. His heartbeat stopped and Paka allowed Tuka to take care of him while he sealed the bottle carefully, taking away the only thing from the mage that the hounds would ever have considered to be of any use.

His magic, his vitality... Well, it was not as if the mage was of any use to them while he was alive, after all.

Sandor backed away, mind blank. Why hadn't he been able to do anything? He was a mage! Yet no magic would come to him, his mana reserves severely depleted in a way that he could access. There was his natural magic, yes, what made him able to use magic as a mage, yet nothing he could use without his staff.

Sandor trembled. The wolf had died...just like that. Yet the moan of pleasure that he had given would haunt Sandor, well...

Until his dying day.

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The wolf was taken away as if he was no more than a body - well, he was. The life was gone and the soul was gone, even the hang of his tail limp and soft. Sandor shook his head minutely, though the muscles even in his neck were taut and resisting, his legs trying to quiver. Yet he would not show any signs of weakness, no, as much as he could, heart hammering.

Alyssa wasn't a mage... So, what was it that they had wanted with her? Just to capture and ransom the princess back to her tribe? Oh, he so very dearly hoped that...

Continued in part two of two...