Of Warlords and Pleasures: Gabool the Wild
NOTICE! All chars used in this story are copyright Brian Jacques, and are used without permisson.
Gabool the Wild sneered at the mousemaid polishing his bell. "'Ave you 'ad enough, me liddle Skiv?" The mousemaid looked up, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. "No, Master." Gabool guffawed heartily, slopping wine and tearing at the meat from a leg of a roasted seabird. "Harrharr! You allus knowed who yer master was, didn't yer, Skiv?" The mousemaid polished harder, gritting her teeth. "Yes, Master." Gabool cocked a red-rimmed eye at her curiously, baring his golden, emerald-studded teeth. "Ain't yer going to say nothin' else, mousemaid?" Skiv looked up for the second time. "Yes, Gabool, you murdering scum! Where is my father? I want to see him! Let me see him!" Skiv threw herself at Gabool, but a hard blow to her side from the silver platter drove her to her knees at his feet, gasping with pain. The Warlord tossed the platter aside, and pulled a long draught from a flask of wine, then smiled cruelly. "Yer father got enough on 'is mind to worry about you, me liddle weeping flower. Harrharrrharrrr!" Skiv touched her forehead to Gabool's seabooted footpaws. "Please, Master, let me see my father. I....I.....please, I'll do anything if you let me see him!" Gabool stroked his chin. "Hmmm. I never could resist a pretty one, Skiv. You say you'll do anythin'?" Skiv looked up at him. "I will, Master. Please, let me see my father!" Holding her sore ribs and kneeling, the beautiful young mousemaid wept, sobbing brokenheartedly. Gabool stroked her head. "There, there, liddle Skivvy. Yer master ain't got a heart o' solid stone. Why, I'll letcher see yer ole father just as soon as you carry out yer promise, aye, on me oath, I will!" Skiv lifted a tearstained face to the Warlord's eyes. "Please, please, Gabool. Just let me hear his voice, and I will serve you forever! Please, Master!" The mousemaid's eyes filled with pain at the leer in Gabool's eyes, and cringed as his clawed paw stroked her cheek. "Aye. You allus were a pretty liddle mousemaid, Skiv." The wild King of Terramort felt himself grow hard at the sight of the mousemaid's ragged clothing and slim body. His caressing claw turned into a grasping paw and he seized the front of Skiv's worn burlap smock, ripping it open with a swift pull. The mousemaid gasped, grabbing at the torn strips to cover her young breasts, but Gabool took one in his paw, groaning at the contact, which sent waves of heat spinning down through his body to his hard cock. "Me liddle Skiv is a girlbeast, who promised to do anything her ole master desires if'n he lets her see her ole father. Harrharrharr!" His cruel yellow eyes glinted at Skiv. The mousemaid twisted away, but felt Gabool grab her around the waist. He pulled her against his groin facing him, and the mousemaid sobbed in terror as she felt the hard, huge bulge between her legs. Two dormouse slaves, sent to polish Gabool's bell, gasped in shock and horror at the scene before them. One, Chimby, looked away. "Poor little mousemaid." The other, Hibble, patted his friend's paw. "I feel the same, Chimby, but we'd better stay, before we get whipped for not coming up and polishing Gabool's bell." Gabool ran a long dirty claw between Skiv's breasts. "Now, me liddle pretty, you an' me are going to play a game. Aye, a game." The Warlord pulled the mousemaid closer to him, pushing the hot, straining bulge behind his trousers harder against her virginity. "We're going to play that I'm the King and yer the Queen! Harrharr!" Tearing the young mousemaid's ragged smock all the way off, Gabool pinned her to the floor, unfastening his clothing hurriedly as his need grew. Skiv's eyes grew wide as the rat's huge, thick, dripping, long cock emerged from his apparel. He was going to put that in her? Her breath came in short gasps as she imagined what Gabool would do to her with his gigantic rathood, and, despite her horrible fear, she felt a warm wetness between her thighs. Gabool rubbed the head of his hot shaft along her stomach, then felt it just enter Skiv's tight opening. The mousemaid whimpered. Gabool smirked. "Well now, me pretty flower, are you havin' second thoughts?" Skiv shook her head, trying to push Gabool off her, her paws pressing against his hard chest. The King of all searats thrusted firmly, and his erection slid into Skiv's untouched regions, filling her taut opening. The mousemaid groaned, going limp with pain and pleasure, her paws knotted into his chestfur. Gabool pulled out, thrusted and slid deeper until he came to Skiv's blocking hymen. Inserting two long claws into the mousemaid's wet tunnel, Gabool shifted and moved himself, rolling his claws gently along her damp vaginal walls, until the head of his huge cock rested just on the thin hymen. Gabool felt Skiv's pulsing clit, and massaged it with one paw as he manuvered himself more firmly into the mousemaid's virginity. Skiv moaned, arching her hips upward into Gabool's paw, then shrieked as he thrust hard and broke through her hymen. The mousemaid screamed and struggled, but Gabool sank himself in deeper, holding Skiv's thighs open wide as he penetrated her virginity. Skiv sobbed and moaned in agony as the Warlord thrust and thrust, taking her cubhood viciously, then, his claws biting into her thighs cruelly, came with a roar and a last mighty lunge, shooting hot cum deep into her. Gabool pulled out of the mousemaid, who lay with an arm across her eyes, sobbing and panting quietly. Blood stained the floor under her. The wild rat wiped the red liqud and cum from his hard cock, then plopped back down on his chair. Skiv opened her eyes, managing to sob out, "You......you said you would....let me see my father.....Gabool." She fainted away. Gabool nudged her limp form with a footpaw, then called to the two dormouse slaves that were scurrying into the room to polish his bell. "You two! Come 'ere and take this mousemaid away! I'm done wid 'er!" Hibble and Chimby lifted Skiv's light body up and trotted away, down to the slave quarters, where the old femaleslaves would take care of the young mousemaid.
Skiv awoke to the gentle rubbing of a cool wet cloth on her brow. "Who's....there?" The voice came out of the darkness, soothing, feminine and quiet. "Hush now, little maid. Here, drink some water." Skiv gulped eagerly as the cup was held to her parched lips until all of the liquid was gone, and then grabbed for the creature's paw. "Please, who are you?" The creature's face appeared out of the darkness. "I'm Ninka, the old squirrel nursemaid. Lie still now." Skiv lay back on the straw pallet. "Thank you, Ninka." The old squirrel smiled bitterly. "He really tore you up, little mousemaid, and he left you with something." Skiv's eyes widened. "What?" Ninka looked away, but Skiv squeezed her paw. "Please, old one, tell me!" The squirrel began to bathe the mousemaid's brow. "That rat's seed is very potent, maid. You are......pregnant with his child." Skiv clutched at Ninka's paw. "No! How....how........that was my first time!" Ninka squeezed her paw, smiling sadly. "I checked myself, mousemaid. Your womb is full of his fruit." Skiv's eyes filled with tears. "But, he'll have me killed, Ninka!" The old squirrel looked away. "You must lose this infant, then, mousemaid, or run away." Ninka rose stiffly, brushing the young mouse's forehead with her lips. "Sleep now, mousemaid. Tomorrow we will think of something." Skiv fell asleep with her paws on her stomach, feeling the faint heartbeat of the infant ratmouse within.
Gabool came wildly, spraying seed over his throne as he jacked off. Plopping down on the sticky sheets, he sipped wine and drifted off, holding himself and remembering Skiv's tight young body as he fucked her. He would call for her again sometime, to 'polish his bell.'
It was night at Redwall Abbey. The Dibbuns had been put to bed, the elders were retiring to the domitory and their soft warm beds, Father Abbot was dozing soundly in his big armchair, and the gates were locked and barred. The only creature that was up was the pretty young squirrelmaid Treerose. She was quietly baking scones for the next morning's breakfast, pouring strawberry cordial into flasks, putting together honey dip for the apple and blueberry tarts, and flaking a huge mushroom, leek, and cheese pastie with dried parsley and mint for the next day's lunch. Wrapping a cloth about her paw, Treerose opened an oven door to check on her scones. They were baking nicely, pale brown and rising perfectly. The young squirrelmaid shut the door, pulled the cloth from her paw, turned, and stifled a shriek. The handsome, quiet, strong young male squirrel, Rufe Brush stood there. Treerose clutched at her chest with a paw, then bent to retrieve the cloth she had dropped, scolding Rufe in a low tone. "How dare you sneak up on me like that! I could have been burned, Rufe Brush!" The rough-looking squirrel held up a paw. "How could you be burned, Miss Whiney-whiskers? The oven door was shut!" Treerose reddened slightly, then whirled on her heel with a huff and began to lace the apple and blueberry tarts with meadowcream. "Well, if it hadn't been, I would have been burned." Rufe slid up alongside her and dabbed his paw at the fluffy white mound of meadowcream in the bowl in front of the squirrelmaid. She slapped his limb, hard, and pulled the bowl away. "Shame on you, Rufe, stealing the cream like that. With the rate you're going, I won't have any left for the tarts!" Rufe looked amused; he had only taken a bit, but he said nothing, his cool dark eyes watching Treerose flounce about the kitchen as he leaned against the counterpane. Feeling Rufe's eyes on her, Treerose stood a little taller and fluffed her red brush of a tail out more. Male squirrels were always attracted by a bushy tail, and she had a huge crush on Rufe. Likewise, although he would not admit it to a beast, Rufe found Treerose quite attractive and beautiful. His eyes traveled over her slender, curvy body, lingering a moment on the inviting swell of her bosom. Nervously, Treerose began to prepare the honey dip for the pastries. Rufe smiled as she fumbled clumsily with the sticky amber liquid, and dripped it upon her paw. "Oh!" Treerose stamped her footpaw as the honey oozed from the wooden spoon onto the counter. Never being a squirrel to waste things, Rufe scooped the honey from the counter into his mouth. "Mmmm. Nothing like a good bit of honey." Treerose watched him as he licked his paw slowly, and their eyes met. The slow, seductive smile that spread across Rufe's handsome features left Treerose's heart beating wildly against her chest. She wondered what else he did with that tongue......and then she smelled the scones scorching. Wrapping the cloth around her paw, she dashed to the ovens, opened a door, and pulled a tray of slightly burnt scones from the oven. "Oh, look, they're burned." Rufe leaned against another oven. "No matter. Just add more honey to the dip, and nobeast'll suspect." Treerose pulled the cloth from her paw. "I don't suppose you'd like to help me, sir?" The young, handsome, strong male squirrel smiled and nodded, accepting a bowl of honey dip and a wooden spoon from the pretty young squirrelmaid. Ladling honey out of the bowl, Rufe spread it on a scone, whilst Treerose worked over a spectacular cake she had taken out of the larder. Flattening a long piece of golden marchpane, she picked it up gingerly and draped it over the cake, trimmed away the excess, and gave the extra portions to Rufe. "Here, try some of that. I'll work on the cake for a bit, then pour some strawberry fizz." Rufe nodded silently, stopping his work to pop the pieces of marchpane into his mouth. Treerose daubed meadowcream onto the cake in little swirls, then pulled a long tube of cloth that contained yellowcream piping from the larder. Squeezing it, she created beautiful patterns and spirals over the smoothed meadowcream. Rufe watched in awe as she topped the entire thing off with flakes of candied chesnuts, slices of dried fruit that had been crystallized in melted honey, and fresh raspberries the Dibbuns had just picked from the orchard that day. Lifting the cake, the gorgeous, red squirrelmaid placed it upon a top shelf fo the larder, wiped her paws, and inspected the scones that Rufe had been spreading with honey. "Hmmm. I see you're a stranger to kitchenwork. Oh well, they'll have to do. Put them in the larder below the cake, please." Rufe did as he was bidden. On the way back, he inspected a broad wooden table, plain, bare, and smaller than the others. It was made of polished cherrywood, rich dark red and smooth, and just about the height of his lower stomach Treerose passed by him holding the pastie, and noticed Rufe staring at the table. "That's an old, old table, Rufe. Father Abbot said it's from the time of old Abbot Mortimer, but it's been polished every week and fitted with a few new pieces from time to time. The surface is still the same, though." The rough-looking squirrel nodded. "Hmm. That's very interesting, Treerose." His mind had not been on the table's history; rather, the possibility of spreading the slender young squirrelmaid over the table and.........Treerose noted the lack of enthusiasm in Rufe's voice, and reddened as she went to put the pastie away. Perhaps she had bored him? The handsome squirrel leaned against the redwood table and watched silently as she cleaned up and put the candied fruits away. As she went past him to get the honey, Rufe caught her. "No," he mumured. "Leave that there." Treerose stiffened in his strong grasp. She had never been so close to Rufe before, and he had certainly not touched her formerly like this. There was a sure huskiness in his voice as he bent close and whispered, "You'll have time to put that away.....later." Treerose stared up at him; then suddenly, his mouth was upon hers and he was kissing the life from her. The young squirrelmaid responded in kind, wrapping her arms about his neck and bringing him close. She felt his paws snake down and caress her slender waist, then Rufe pulled away. "Lean against the table, Treerose." Shaken, the pretty young red squirrel did as she was told. The young squirrelmaid leaned against the heavy table, bound and with a scared look in her eyes. "Rufe.....?" The strong male squirrel kissed her again, roughly, fondling her tight young body through the cream-colored habit she wore. His paws slowly undid her habit cord and Rufe dropped it upon the floor as his kisses softened, and his warm lips moved downwards. Treerose stiffened as he bared a redfurred shoulder to the warm air of the kitchen, and kissed it tenderly, then pulled the cloth from the other shoulder and brushed his lips across it. Rufe nuzzled Treerose's neck, flicking his tongue out at her throat, then slipped down to her shoulder blade. Treerose caught her breath and tensed at the jolt that raced through her in anticipation of the strong, handsome squirrel's next move. Slowly stripping the habit downwards over her shoulder, Rufe cupped the firm young breasts in his paws, then took Treerose's left nipple in his mouth, fondling and squeezing the other. The squirrelmaid bit her lip to keep from crying out at the streak of fire that shot through her as Rufe sucked and nibbled lightly upon her nipple. It grew hard and pointed in his mouth as her virgin body responded eagerly to his knowing, dominating caress. Rufe pulled his mouth from the first nipple to take the second in his mouth as well, stroking the first with a soft paw. Treerose's breath came in pants as Rufe pushed both of her breasts together and took both nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking the hard-pointed digits expertly. The habit slipped lower as Treerose shuddered; down her hips until only her virgin wetness was covered. Rufe took care of that. Pulling the habit down and throwing it aside, he undressed himself. Treerose watched as his hard, lean body slide easily from his clothing, revealing his brief loincloth and the large bulge behind it. Not well-versed in the knowledge of reprodution and sensual pleasures, Treerose had only a faint idea of what the swelling actually was, but Rufe's warm mouth upon her own chased all doubts or fears away, and she melted into his embrace as he pulled her into his hard body. Treerose gasped as the firm bulge pressed against her throbbing wetness, and realized what it was. As a young squirrelbabe, she had often awoke to the gentle rhythm of moans and grunts from the treebranches where her parents slept, but paid no heed to them, being only a Dibbun. When her sister, Treeflower, was married, she had come back to her parents' room after only one night with her new husband, sobbing with pain. Treerose had been little older than a Dibbun then, and decided that when a femalebeast went a malebeast, there was pain. Rufe noticed the fear that entered her eyes, and the tear that trickled from her eye. Holding her close, he nuzzled her neck. "What's the matter, Treerose?" The beautiful young squirrelmaid clutched at his muscular arms, and lay her head upon his chest. "The...the, oh, please, Rufe, don't hurt me!" Rufe lifted her chin until her tearstained face looked into his. "You don't have to do this, Treerose. Just say so, and I'll stop. I'm not forcing you; I'm loving you." Treerose closed her eyes. "Oh, but I do want to do this! I.....I'm just not sure about the......pain." Rufe smiled. "As long as you're with me, I'll make sure that there's as little pain as possible. It won't hurt for long, Treerose." The frightened squirrelmaid drew a shuddering breath, then looked up at her first male and smiled shakily. "All right, then." Rufe kissed her gently, then as he exerted careful force upon her soft lips with his tongue, he parted them and explored her sweet-tasting mouth eagerly. Likewise, Treerose, hesitating but a moment, searched Rufe's mouth and let her tongue entwine with his. When they finally parted, Treerose's fear was gone and she panted, leaning back against the table. Rufe slid down onto his knees, caressing her shapely rump, and inhaled the fresh scent of her untouched mound. Treerose held back a cry as he found her wetness, and tasted it slowly, opening up one virginal petal at a time. Rufe licked and sucked gently at her, feeling the heat in her unspoiled flower build. He savoured her tangy salt, enjoying her stifled cries of pleasure, then held her tightly as her first orgasm racked her body, sending shudders through her. Rufe felt her spurt of wetness, then, carefully, he laid Treerose upon her back across the smooth redwood table. She watched him, panting slightly, as he spread her thighs and unclothed his pulsing member, large, long, thick, and tan. Stroking her thigh, Rufe gazed into her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this, Treerose?" She nodded, wanting to feel him inside her more than anything, regardless of the pain, now that he had given her such intense, exquisite pleasure. Rufe smiled at her, then ran his paws along her inner thighs, and bent to taste her again. Treerose moaned softly as he prolonged her agony, and reached out for him with little cries. Rufe gripped her thighs and entered her slowly, vowing not to hurt her as much as it would have been with another male. Treerose's breath came faster as Rufe pulled his hard rod out a ways, found her throbbing clit with a soft paw, and fondled it as he sank back into her tightness, every thrust bringing him closer to her thin barrier. The young red squirrelmaid arched her hips into his, trying not to cry out as she gripped the sides of the table. Rufe thrust deeper until his shafthead rested just upon her thin restraint. Stroking her clit faster, he gave a firm jab that sent him through her barrier and into her hot core. Treerose cried out in pained pleasure, but the agony was not as she though it would be; simply a sharp jolt of pain. Rufe pulled his bloodstained rod from her, thinking that he had hurt her more than he had meant to, but the young, beautiful squirrelmaid moaned his name, and he thrust back inside, gripping her thighs tighter. He pleasured her at a gradually increasing rhythm, feeling the heat build in both their bodies, his paw still caressing her throbbing clit. Treerose cared nothing about the first pain that had died down to a slight ache; she arched her hips into him, wanting to feel that wonderful release again, wanting to feel him on top of her, wanting him to satisfy her deepest longings. Suddenly, the waves of climax washed over them both and Treerose cried out as Rufe shot his hot seed deep into her fiery core. Rufe thrust a few more times, then withdrew, panting. Treerose lay back upon the sweaty table, breathing hard. The pain had not been bad, and Rufe had kept his promise. They fell asleep, bare and nestled together upon a heap of grainsacks in the corner, Rufe holding Treerose in his arms, the young squirrelmaid pressed close against him.
Far over the seas, Gabool the Wild thrust into his new wench, Skiv. He cummed with a grunt and pushed her away, his hot spooge spattering the floor. The young, newly pregnant mousemaid cleaned herself up, bowed, and scurried out of his presence as Gabool began to jerk off, slopping wine and sprawled in his throne. Skiv sobbed as she threw herself down before the window. The infant ratmouse she held inside her moved slightly, and Skiv placed a paw upon it. "Sleep, little one, sleep, sleep. We will escape this place, someday, somehow." The gulls screeched and cried to each other over Terramort as Skiv fell asleep. Gabool finished his jacking off with a groan, spraying cum all over the floor, then drifted off to sleep, still holding his huge, thick, long, dripping red rathood. He would call for Skiv again later. What pleasure.
T H E E N D