Canine
Same disclaimer, same message. . .
I think you've heard enough disclaimers to know what you are and are not supposed to do.
1) If you are under 18, leave now, though I doubt you'll listen to me. Sick young bastard.
2) If you don't like m/m, m/f scenes, then go ahead and turn tail and run, eeping the entire way. Coward!
3) Last, but not least, sit back, relax, and enjoy, keeping lube at one paw and snacks at the other! You horny dog!
Ahh, my first fantasy story on Yiffstar! Well, not quite fantasy, but close! Now, this tale is a legend, one of mystery and romance, bitterness and battle, a mixture of the Warriors series by Erin Hunter, the yiffy story Foxhump, and the War of the Spider Queen series by R.A. Salvatore. This is a legend where cats rule the roost of the great city Felinia with dogs as their slaves, and, even if a cat does not possess the noble blood of an aristocratic aristocat (no pun intended!), they are allowed to treat the dogs as if they /were/ nobles. I think the title states it all. However, far to the north, where climates are cruel and only the strong survive, the canines live, struggling for life in the rocky crags of the Caninia mountains. When these worlds come together in a cataclysmic battle, only one species will endure. . . dog or cat. There is a lot of big, hard-to-pronounce names in this tale, but I will try to make it easy for you.
Canine
All characters © me, Uoikih.
*~*
Chapter One - Natarzic's Sacrifice
N'tue grunted with exertion as she climbed the rocky, steep path that meandered through the Caninia mountains. Cold gusts of wind whipped her heavy robes around her body, revealing a slender form beneath the rough fabric. In one paw, the distinctly lupine-featured canine gripped an intricately carved staff; in the other, the folds of her clothing were gathered to allow her better access to the stony trail.
The canine priestess, a worshipper of the canine forefather, Natarzic, dug her staff into the cold mud of the path and levered herself upwards. Faintly, she could hear voices.
"She's coming! She's here!"
"Hurry! N'rara, put some tea on the fire! And get that boar sliced up, Ganzi!"
"Priestess N'tue! Welcome!"
N'tue smiled as she reached the thorny gates of her city, Caninia. Gentle paws reached out to help her inside, and warm penetrated her robes as the gates closed behind her. She stood just inside the gates, sighing with relief and smiling at Caninia's inhabitants. A small pup grabbed her paw. "Come with me, priestess!" N'tue allowed the little puppy to lead her down the narrow streets, her robes rustling around her.
Caninia was no more than a tiny village, made to look large by its impressive gates. It was a rocky hamlet, with the houses and other buildings cut and carved right into the mountains that surrounded it. The canines that clustered outside their homes were bundled warmly against the cold gusts of wind, bowing as N'tue passed by them. The highest point of Caninia was a small building hewn directly from a cliff: Natarzic's temple. Miles and miles of stone steps snaked through the kingdom, all melding into one eventually, one path that led straight to the entrance of their god's shrine.
The pup holding N'tue's paw led her into a small, smoky cavern and directed her to sit down upon a pile of cushions, while he ran off to help his mother prepare the priestess's meal. N'tue settled comfortably into the soft pillows and pulled her heavy outer robes aside to hold her paws out toward the fire. As her garments landed beside her, something stirred and the pile of clothing began to move away. N'tue seized it, pushed aside an outer tunic and a woolen scarf, and peered down into two wide brown eyes. "Mamo told me to take your wraps and dry them for you, Priestess." N'tue smiled, nodded, and allowed the second pup to go, ruffling his ears goodnaturedly.
As she gazed out into the cold, the hot aroma of roasting meat touched her nostrils, rife with spices and herbs. The first puppy ran out with a bowl of cold fruits, placed it upon the worn, low table in front of N'tue; then returned with a warm loaf of bread and a pitcher of icy water. "Mamo says sorry that we haven't got any milk," the pup murmured, before trotting back to the small room that was the family's kitchen. N'tue smiled knowingly, turning as a tall figure tramped into the cave. Throwing heavy, snowy wraps off, the figure, smelling of leather and ice, stepped toward the priestess and prostrated himself. "Priestess, you honor me by staying in my household tonight. I am Balaan."
N'tue placed a paw upon his head. "I am honored by your reverence, son of Natarzic." The male canine raised his head, smiling with gratitude. Taking his place at the head of the table, Balaan embraced his children as they ran out to greet him. "This is N'rara, my daughter," he said, cuddling one pup close, "and this is Ganzi, my son," he finished, ruffling Ganzi's ears fondly." N'tue smiled. "They seem fine, healthy children, Balaan; such good manners, also. You have raised them well." Balaan beamed. His smile was followed a few seconds later by his wife's, who was bearing a large, steaming bronze platter of meat. She set it down, and took her place at table, with her pups on either side of her. "And I am Netesha." N'tue dipped her head respectfully. "You have such fine children, Netesha, even Natarzic himself would be proud! And I thank you for the dinner which you have laid out so tastefully before me! I cannot wait to eat of it!"
Balaan smiled, booming, "And so you shall not! Eat, Priestess!" N'tue smiled graciously at Balaan. "I thank you, son of Natarzic. May you and your household be blessed by the gods." The priestess was rewarded by smiles from the peasant family, and she returned them with a flashing grin of her white teeth. Flicking a glance over to the platter of meat, N'tue noted that it was a feline, shorn of fur and roasted to perfection. It had been basted in its own juices and its flesh had been rubbed with herbs. A single apple rested in its mouth, baked and adding to the fragrant steam that curled around the entire thing. The priestess, at the bidding of Balaan and Netesha, reached for a long knife and held in toward Natarzic's temple. "Blessed be this weapon," she murmured, "blessed by thee, Lord Natarzic." With a flourish, N'tue brought the knife down and proceeded to slice the feline into succulent slices.
By the look on the pups' faces, it was evident that they did not eat like this always; for the most part, Caninia's food was provided in the form of small vegetables, shrubbery, and fruits that grew in icy abundance upon the mountainsides. It was rare that a family ever ate meat more than twice a week; the scrawny goats that roamed the rocky crags were scarce and hard to catch. And it was even more uncommon that the canines partook of catmeat; the inhabitants of the rich Felinia were well-protected and seldom ventured very far from their kingdom. However, N'tue savored Netesha's cooking with every ounce of her being, and spent the afternoon laughing, eating, and talking with Balaan and his family.
Later, the priestess climbed the steps to Natarzic's temple. The shrine was massive and cold inside. The walls were ledged, and more steps led down into the main chamber, where only N'tue herself and a few other priests and priestesses could go. She could hear the wind scouring the top of the shrine with bits of ice; even some of the stones were coated in frozen water. Nonetheless, N'tue dropped her robes at the doors, crossed the floor, and prostrated herself before the huge bronze figure of Natarzic. The image quite took her breath away.
Fully ten feet tall and very lifelike, Natarzic radiated majesty and demanded obeisance. His body was lithe and muscled; his face was long and imposing, his eyes black stones that reflected light and gave him a serpentine air. Natarzic's teeth were bared in an expression of savagness; an ingenious canine had stained them with red ochre, making it look as though blood were dripping from the Caninian god's jaws. His paws were large and outstretched, cupped into a depression that vaguely resembled an altar that lay within his palms. Further down, inside the abdomen of the great figure, the dark metal glowed red with heat. From the day that N'tue had been appointed solemn ruler and high priestess of Caninia---four thousand years ago--- this fire had been fed and had never been allowed to go out once during that entire time period. It symbolized Natarzic's immortality, but also represented his demands.
For, even as the fire burned steadily within his belly, the red heat crept up through his torso and shoulders into his arms, settling into tiny flames within Natarzic's hands, which ended in wickedly long talons, stained red with ochre as well, although the oily red soil had melted from the heat, dripping in crimson streaks down Natarzic's claws. N'tue shook with fear at her god's elevated hindpaws as he rumbled curses and beastly things inside her mind. His claws raked across her mind's frayed cords, demanding that she feed his desires at once. The canine priestess nodded quickly, backing away from Natarzic, careful not to look into his eyes, lest she be consumed by all his power.
The "doors" of the shrine were nothing but two heavy leather drapes hanging across the entrance. These N'tue threw back, stepping naked out onto the cliff from which the temple was carved. The winds buffeted her slender, nude figure unmercifully, but N'tue ignored them. Still tense with awe at the might of Natarzic's words, she addressed the citizens of Caninia, who were gathered far below her. "You! Sons and daughters of Natarzic! The god has ordered his sacrifices to be brought into his presence now!" Her words were greeted with cries of shock and agony from the canines below her, but N'tue went on: "Do not make your lord Natarzic wait any longer! The fate of your kingdom rests in his claws! Bring the sacrifices NOW!"
From her steep perch above the kingdom, the darkfurred priestess watched as twenty small, hooded figures were gathered tightly into feminine arms. Two long lines of canines formed, each carrying ten of the young sacrifices. Even from where she stood, N'tue could hear the puppies' fearful cries mingling with their mothers' weeping, and shouted, "It must be done to preserve Caninia! Bring them forth!" The two lines swayed now and then, slowly making their way up two paths that bordered the kingdom, one procession on either side of the city.
A mournful, grim chant began to be heard over the howling gales and terrified crying. It was without words, simply a guttural sound made by every mother that was carrying her child to its death. N'tue watched impassively as the front of the two lines reached her, and directed them inside the stifling cavern, dropping the drapes behind the last few followers.
Once inside, the two processions mounted the high ledges on either side of Natarzic, who waited, seemingly with hunger in his eyes, his long claws ready to grab his sacrifices and tumble them into the flaming altar of his palms. Their chanting grew and grew, until, suddenly, the stricken women threw off their clothing and that of their hooded children. The cavern exploded into a myriad of dazzling color, created by many torches and braziers being lit. The shadows of the twenty women became long, flame-edged parodies of bodies, as the reflected light from the torches touched them and rebounded from the rocks. The smothered hiss of voices thundered in N'tue's ears as blast after blast of shattering noise began to explode around her. The priestess heard clearly the shrill screams of women, the higher bellowing of puppies' terrified shrieks, all counterpointed by the dull, steady, and rhythmic boom of giant drums.
N'tue nodded to a large group of canines that had just appeared from the shadows, and they seated themselves to the left of the image, forty of them, with huge hand drums, bells, and reed pipes, from which strange music floated thinly over the roaring, howling mob. To the right of Natarzic, canine priestesses, their barefurred bodies gleaming with oil, sweat, and paint, swept, whirled, dived, gyrated, and pirouetted shamelessly before the snarling statue, sometimes prostrating themselves, rising to hurl themselves anew at his feet, somersaulting over each other or tumbling skillfully before him. In their hands copper knives gleamed, already streaked with red as they cut their own flesh. Drops of blood were flung and spattered against the hot arms of Natarzic. With each laceration, they would scream, leaping high, their heels kicking together furiously as they rose into the air. The priestesses were unadorned, save for tiny bells attached to their breasts and ankles.
It was then that the howls of the crowd became wilder and more hysterical. Many torchbutts pounded the stone, shaking the flame and smoke from the tops; many throats would vibrate with sound that escaped from gaping mouths.
"To Natarzic, the Mighty, give seed!"
"To Natarzic, our strength!"
Savage now were the drums and savage were the screams that mingled with the smoke and flame and drifted around the rock ledges. N'tue could hear the pitiful yelping of the babes as they awaited their fiery death against the bosoms of their mothers. "Come forth!" she shrieked at the females canines. "Bring the sacrifices!"
The screams suddenly pierced her heart as, without warning, a tiny pup was unhooded and cast down into Natarzic's hot palms. The small creature shrieked with terror as it neared the god's hands; then its head met the wicked claws and glanced off. Blood streamed from its body as it landed into the flaming hands, and steam arose as soft flesh met scorching stone. A foul stench arose to spiral around the shrine: the smell of burning flesh. Inside Natarzic's palms, the tiny pup quickly burnt to ash and the next was hurled down, and then the next, and the next, and the next. Blood splashed the bronze, dripped from the claws, coated the god's smirking muzzle. N'tue watched all this with a smile across her muzzle. Surely now Natarzic was pleased. There was just one more matter to take care of. . .
The priestess prostrated herself before Natarzic's image, letting the hot blood from the young sacrifices drip down onto her. The ritual to culminate the orgy of murder and bloodthirst would be very painful for her, but nothing she had not ever experienced in the past before. N'tue closed her eyes, and waited. . .
Her back arched involuntarily as a lash flicked out across it, cutting a long, shallow furrow into her flesh. The whip flashed back, then out again, landing across the priestess with a loud crack. N'tue winced, but kept silent, even as she felt her warm blood seep into her fur from her wounds. Her assailant came close, and N'tue heard the distinct sound of a knife being unsheathed. The cold blade nicked a groove in her upper arm, and then a long muzzle pressed against it and lapped up the blood that streamed from the nick. The knife cut her again, this time in the flank, and again, the blood was licked away. N'tue panted quietly, trying hard not to flinch as the warming blade pierced her in random areas.
Slowly, slowly, the blade's flicking, airy rhythm of pain neared the high priestess's nether regions. N'tue gasped unwittingly as the cold blade slipped just between her lower lips, teasing her dangerously. A crack sounded above her, and N'tue realized that yet another pup had been cast down to Natarzic. Blood and brain matter trickled out between the long claws onto her back, into her fur. Her unseen attacker took advantage of the priestess's momentary distraction to nick her clitoris slightly with the keen knife's edge. The spike of pain made N'tue cry out, but her yelp of pain immediately turned to one of pleasure when the muzzle pressed up against her folds and took a long, slow lick, savoring her more than was necessary to relieve the pain.
The priestess huffed her annoyance when the muzzle was pulled away; then felt a pair of slender ankles pressing against her muzzle. N'tue, familiar with the process and eager to know if, this time, her victimizer was a male or female, ran her tongue up the right ankle, doing the same with her paw to the left leg, sucking a little when she reached the firm expanse of bare inner thigh, and nuzzling up into. . . warm and zesty folds of feminine sweetness. N'tue smiled a bit to herself, flicking her tongue out to taste the priestess whom she would be pleasuring soon, and relishing the flavor of youth across her tastebuds.
Scooting back across the floor a little, N'tue lay down on her back, facing up into the delicious warmth. The younger, lower-ranking priestess straddled her superior's muzzle, pressing her damp pleats into N'tue's face. The high priestess smiled again, reaching up to cup the round and firm rump, caress it somewhat, and then, abruptly and without warning, delved her tongue as far as she could reach into the young priestess.
Her young mistress for the night gasped loudly and almost fell over as N'tue proceeded to give her the best experience of her life. Her tongue raked gently over the soft walls, tasting the honey that dripped there, and using her canines to further stimulate the younger priestess's clitoris. Her paws were never still, sometimes gripping and clenching the youth's rump, other times "fingering" delicately at the other's tailhole playfully, while she licked and slurped up the adolescent's sticky, tangy juices. The youth gasped and moaned, rocking herself back and forth upon N'tue's skilled tongue, forgetting in her manifold of pleasures that she was supposed to continue her abuse of N'tue with the knife. The high priestess enjoyed disarming her attackers; it chased away any doubts that she was still, literally, the "top dog."
The hot blood from Natarzic's sacrifices continued to trickle down onto them both, but it only added to their joint pleasures as N'tue bit lightly down upon the other's inflamed nub of flesh and was rewarded with a shriek and a flood of fresh juices. The younger priestess rolled away and lay panting nearby. N'tue rose, grabbed the whip, and began to lash her subordinate with firm, punishing strokes. The adolescent tried to roll away, but the high priestess grabbed her, nicked her ears with the forgotten knife, and pushed her own wet loins into the younger's face. "Return the favor, child."
N'tue sighed with pleasure as the youth's inexperienced tongue began to work her folds, savoring her sweetness. As if on cue, her paw jerked the redstained blade across the younger priestess's muzzle, making her flinch and causing her tongue to plunge deep inside N'tue. Blood mingled with blood as the sacrificing, dancing, screaming, and drums went on. . .
And as N'tue put flint to steel and disciplined her subordinate in the best way possible...
To be continued. . .