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MhortaE "Foxfire and Iron"

It was hot and hard to breathe, but even harder to see. No amount of squirming around accomplished a thing; it just brought pain through both arms and rattled the chains wrapped around them.

Hunger brought horrendous weakness, it had been three days since first waking up blindfolded and bound; suspended off the ground by heavy chains. Though, that wasn't entirely true. Her legs could reach the ground, somewhat. They were bent over and her knees just barely brushed the ground. She could imagine that they were probably terribly scratched up by now, for the itching never stopped.

There was a familiar sound of a metal door opening, shortly accompanied by heavy metallic footsteps of steel-reinforced boots against steel steps. Maybe a catwalk? She couldn't even tell, and she didn't care. Ears weakly perked and she tried to tune her attention to the approaching steps. A chill began to defile the air.

"Please," she begged hoarsely in a weak voice. She had been doing a lot of begging lately, "I wanna go home."

She could still feel the dried streaks of tears on her cheeks, but no longer found the energy to cry anymore. There was no answer, there never was. Sometimes she heard her captor doing strange things. At first, there had been other weak groans, sobs, and girls' voices crying out. But eventually, those voices became silent. It was always when one of the voices had been silent for a long time that her captor came and shook the chains of whoever had gone quiet.

The sounds that followed had made her vomit the first time she heard them. It was wet, constantly complemented by a spilling of fluid into some sort of container and the strong smell of wet copper. Her ears had followed the noise of metal dragging through something and what seemed like the dull ripping of a canvas. Others were always whimpering when they heard those sounds, she could only guess what it was. He was usually heard slapping what sounded like meat onto a growing pile, too.

"I don't want to die," she rasped weakly, "I'll-I'll do anything." Her voice was starting to become worthless, hardly more than a whisper. She was the only one now, as far as she could tell. Sometimes, she had tried to ask the others questions. One of them didn't speak common and the other two - at least she thought there were two others - either told her to be quiet, or simply refused to answer her.

She always found herself thinking about her family, wondering if they were looking for her. Especially her best friend: whose father was a cop. Of course, her best friend had always resented being related to a "pig" and had been the one responsible for introducing her to the anarchist movement.

Her captor remained silent, but she could hear him getting closer. A jingling of belt-buckles made her ears droop. She knew what was coming next, and even worse; knew that she was utterly powerless to do anything about it.

The smell of sweat, blood, and metal had been present at all times; but by now she was used to it. She felt the grip on his hand clenching her jaw tightly and obediently opened her mouth. There was no point to resisting anymore, and the only nourishment she received was in such a manner.

As expected, her mouth was filled and immediately pumped. The soreness of her jaw and phantom pains in her mouth were the only reminders she had of the long-since ripped-out buckteeth she possessed upon first arriving in her new home. She no longer gagged whenever he abused her in such a manner, but nor did she help him. The chains restraining her rattled each time she was pulled into the thrusts of his hips. Her attempts to displace her mind, to chase it away into places where it could not be touched by the suffering she was put through; always failed. More specifically, it failed whenever he would angle her forward just like he did now.

Her ability to breathe disrupted disturbingly, that thick and throbbing length of flesh forced down her throat. She drooled around him, saliva streaking from her chin in a thread to strike one of her breasts. It was hard to care anymore, but she wanted so badly to go home.

She knew better than to hope that he would ever release her. The kidnapper sped up, fucking her face more intensely. His length filled into her throat each time and she could feel his balls smacking against her chin and his groin repeatedly ramming her face lewdly. It was impossible to determine if he got any sort of pleasure out of using her anyway, for her mouth was usually rather dry.

It was impossible to remember the faces of her parents anymore.

He pushed in to the hilt and she felt his shaft throb while she quivered in detached need for air. Something hot and thick sprayed into her throat, a swelling at the base of his shaft stretching her jaw and causing her to wince with tearing-up eyes. The blindfold became wet with her tears. She coughed a few times to clear her throat of that sticky fluid once he pulled out, but out of starvation she swallowed everything hungrily.

Her stomach hurt a little less, but despair once more set in as she heard him leaving her in this place. She could scarcely make out the face of her best friend and felt her eyes beginning to tear up again with incredible guilt. All of her teenage time had been spent being a horrible daughter, and she'd said so many things she could never take back. Things said to her parents that she now wished so greatly had never popped into her head. Salted, liquid fire came to her in length, throat feeling as though coils of razor-wire were caught within it and her boiling stomach churned.

She bawled, beseechingly apologizing through choked sobs for everything.

What hurt most of all, was that she couldn't remember the names of her parents. She couldn't remember the name of her best of friends, and worst of all...

... she couldn't remember her own name.

~=†=~

Alyshia.

Trix leaned forward and set her chin upon her wrung fingers. White ears folded back slightly as she repeated the name in her head. Everything sucked, now. More than usual.

It had been seventy-two hours almost exactly since her best friend had last been seen. All Trix found she was only able to think about that stupid, giddy grin Alyshia always seemed to wear. Somehow it felt like it was her fault, too. She had always been kind of annoying, but ever since her disappearance it was as if Trix had been abandoned by her own shadow.

"Bellatrix!" her name was snapped suddenly.

She raised her head to find that everybody in the classroom was staring at her while she had been distracted by the empty chair just in front of her. Ears perked and green-eyed gaze shifted to the front. The teacher was glaring at her with his fat arms folded. Trix perked a brow questioningly but never moved her head.

Ever since that shit vampire-series came out, her name had felt like poison; its merest utterance causing her to lash out in rage; more-so whenever someone mentioned bloodsuckers.

"I asked you a question," the teacher claimed, "If you're done in la-la land, maybe you'd like to answer it?"

"No, not really," Trix responded, shoving her chair back and standing. She slung her bag over her shoulder and flicked her head to the side; trying to move dark-red bangs from her face. Immediately the hippo-furre, lord of the blackboard and Danishes, ordered her to sit back down. She ignored him and went for the door, "I'm out of here; screw you."

"BELLATRIX, SIT DOWN IN YOUR CHAIR IMMEDIATELY!"

At the door, she jerked to the side and looked over her shoulder; white-tipped vulpine tail giving a flick. "Sit your ass down," she snapped back, "Then again, with that much ass you might crush the chair - sit on the desk instead." Turning to shove open the door and step into the hallway, she raised her arm above her head and gave the bellowing hippo her favorite finger to consider.

She snorted as his shouts carried after her from the classroom, deafening herself to them while she traversed her way down the empty hall. The bell soon sounded anyway, so it wasn't as if the vulpe-girl had missed anything by leaving early. Rolling her head to the side, she spied the bathrooms close by. Going in there was always something she ended up regretting, but considered the possibility of getting privacy enough to pull her head together as something plausible for a change.

Un-fucking-likely.

As soon as she opened the bathroom's door, her nostrils were assailed with the scent of bleach. After a grimace, she made it into the tile-walled bathroom and backhanded a stall door already slightly ajar; she tossed her bag onto the hook and shut it behind her with a prodding of her foot. Leaning forward, her school-skirt was lowered and panties quickly followed. She hated the stupid uniforms, a khaki pleated skirt and white blouse. Her own had been ruined by the stout refusal to wear a fucking tie and the use of black stockings rather than the pristine-perfect white of societal slaves. Further self-stylizing had included six heavy earrings, three to each ear, and a pair of fishnet gloves.

With a groan, she sat; putting her forehead into the palm of her hand. Fingers ran through her hair and eyes shut. Shit, Alyshia, where'd you go?

Her silence and privacy was quickly interrupted as the door was heard swinging open. It opened too quickly and banged against the wall. Familiar-fucking-footsteps of high-heels made her ears twitch. She opened her eyes, Please don't be the queen-bitch of slut-mouth, the fox-femme inwardly groaned.

She didn't get her wish, as typical.

Those same annoying voices started up, with their unrivaled ability to rape the common language. "Like, oh. My. Gawd; did you see Foxzilla storm out of the class? Teach is like, totally pissed."

"I kno-o-o-ow!" another one squaw'd. Trix swore they were all related to birds and probably just as "intelligent." All they needed were beaks and feathers, "She's like, totally mental or like, something."

The fox wanted to rip off her own ears, getting up and replacing her skirt but eyes soon shot wide-open as the Common-mangling whorefurres crossed the line.

"She's like, so unstable that her only little friend even, like, ran away!" the lower voice of the two.

Trix launched forward and tore her bag from the hook before wringing the door open with a bang, which she imagined was probably close to the volume of a gunshot. The two girls on the other side shrieked in surprise, turning to see the pissed fox glaring daggers at them with eyes nearly ablaze.

"Oh," Alexandrina broke the silence, her eyes rolled, "Whoopsie~"

A glare turned into a stare, Bellatrix nearly forgot what she had intended to say when spotting the puma-femme's new chosen hair-style. Oh gods, she thought to herself as eyes remained locked on the platinum-blonde, gold-tipped hair. It had been stylized with something of a faux-punk fashion into half of a forward-facing Mohawk; collecting in a thick mass over the left golden eye of the puma, She finally turned into a fucking cockatoo.

"Girl, like, you got something to say or are you gonna just shake yo' head like you be givin' some'n a blowjob?" the puma's right-hand horse said. That one's name was Peony, and Trix always thought it was a pretty fitting name. She was always on Alexandrina's heel like a fashion-thrall, tawny fur with white-socked limbs and chin, shoe-shaped skull with a crown of wavy brown hair. It was obvious who the bellwether of the two was.

Trix sneered, "Isn't that your job?"

"Ugh, you have like; the lamest comebacks, ginger," Alexandrina responded while turning around and unzipping her purse. If Trix had killed the original intents of her uniform with certain applications of her own, then Peony and Alexandrina had turned theirs into the outfits of strippers. Shortened skirts lowered to hang off their hips, g-strings visible for any to see and their blouses generally minus one or two buttons more than kosher, "At least guys might notice we're, like, girls; instead of thinking we're just a flat-chest cross-dressing."

The comment reminded Trix of what she had intended to do after flinging open the door, "Know what my boots are made of, bitch?"

"Like, shit and other stuff poor people buy?" the snooty prep responded with a roll of her eye-shadowed orbs.

Now the fox smirked like a proper devil and raised a boot, "Steel and leather. They're good for kicking ass." At the last, she launched her foot forward into the offered posterior of the slut before her.

With a shriek, the puma was launched forward; lipstick in-hand leaving a long line along her cheek as her hips smacked against the counter. She turned with a fury, "You FUCKING BI-" Trix didn't let her finish, twisting her entire body into a punch that connected with the lioness' perfect little nose with a crack. The puma yowled and fell back, holding her face with one hand and swiping wildly with the other.

Her clumsy swings and teary-eyed screams didn't do anything terribly useful, Trix simply turned free of their reach and swung a forearm into the side of the cougar's head, knocking her off her feet and to the floor with a loud smack.

After spitting on the angrily writhing feline, she turned toward the equine. Peony was quick to raise her hands and shake them before herself rather beseechingly, along with her head.

Feeling much better, Trix left them be and wasted no more time in escaping the school.

~=†=~