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Still night.

A cool breeze gently ruffled the arctic fox's fur. He pulled himself into the shadow of a spire, drawing his cloak close and blending into the dark stone's shade. He could see a guard below, patrolling the grounds. An elephant, the hired muscle's body rippled with strength, sabers drawn and clutched in each chiseled hand. Somehow, the guard knew something was amiss, and he was drawing uncomfortably close. The vulpine frowned--brains and brawn were a lethal combination in an enemy. Deft paws went to his belt, drawing one of his dozen throwing knifes and a vial. Without making a sound, the fox dipped the point of the knife in the liquid, painstakingly careful even with the gloves protecting his hands. He clutched the hilt of the dagger between his thumb and index finger, bringing the blade next to his face and feeling the heat rising from its venom. Opportunity drew near as the elephant craned his neck, looking suspiciously toward the rooftops. It was now or never, and the fox had yet to pass up any nows. The thrill of the hunt quickened his breath, but his paw was absolutely steady. A quick calculation for the breeze, and the elephant's neck suddenly sprouted a knife, and he crumpled to the cobblestone walkway, his sabers clattering to the floor. A perfect shot.

But why wouldn't it have been? He was Alistair Icewind, invisible, cutting, lethal. He was living myth; countless evil furs had met their end at his cold blades, coming and going just like the wind he had been named for. A wolf who taxed his subjects into starvation? Woke up to winter blue eyes in his face as a dagger slit his throat. The lynx couple who kidnapped and murdered children? One long knife was all Alistair needed to go through both of their skulls. The downtrodden told tales of him, their angel of justice, their Robin Hood of judgment. He was the reason bodyguards had become such an exorbitant business--one that the lords of the land lapped up without hesitation.

"Should've saved your money," Alistair whispered under his breath, giving a sniff of amusement as he plucked his dagger from the elephant's neck, wiping its venom on the guard's breeches. Wasting no time in relieving the goon of his keys, Alistair curled his cloak around himself and crept across the courtyard to the manor's entrance.

Lord Raustig was one of the most despicable of society's cancers. The sadistic eagle's avarice far exceeded gold and jewels; the thousands of rumors Alistair had heard were confirmed as he entered the hall. The smell of water was cool in his nostrils as he beheld the lord's magnificent fountain. Enormous and luxurious, it bore a marble construction from which rose beautifully carved pedestals, topped with glass sculptures of the eagle himself as well as all too real statues. Upon closer inspection, these "statues" were nude furs, both male and female, forced to stand as living art, their arms chained above them and keeping them from escaping. And really, who would try when the consequence would be hanging in the cold frothing current of water? One of them, a male otter, a large ball gag in his muzzle, caught Alistair's gaze, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"Sshhh." The arctic fox held a finger to his lips, and the otter fell silent. "I have an eagle to pluck. Then I will be back for you all." The otter nodded, the female mouse next to him quivering as she cried through her dog muzzle in a mixture of shock and relief. The other slaves--the ones who were awake, anyway--showed similar reactions. The Angel of Judgment had come for their oppressor, and hope that had died long ago was being reborn.

Alistair left the evil fountain and continued stealthily up the manor's spiral staircase. His soft leather shoes were noiseless on the carpeted steps as he made his way through the manor, seeing more and more bound slaves who never noticed him, and only one guard, whom he left alive. No point in stirring up a commotion, especially when the guard posed no threat.

New staircase. Rumor had it--and rumors around these parts more often than not were right on the mark--that Lord Raustig's quarters, like the aeries of his feral cousins, were at the very top of the manor.

The top straightened into a long hallway of suits of armor. Alistair reached his paws inside his cloak, making sure he had each one ready to throw a knife at a moment's notice; he was running out of places to be a shadow. Gilded double doors stood at the end of the hall--clearly the lord's chambers. But no guards? How arrogant was this bird? He gripped his blades harder. The arrogant ones were always the easiest. It was almost disappointing.

Creeping down the hall, the fox darted past each doorway, careful to make sure there was no one present before he passed. The manor was enormous; between each suit of armor was another door. But Alistair knew his nobles, and nobles always resided in the fanciest room of the estate. It was some unwritten law of greed and excess.

Five suits of armor away from the golden doors. The hall was needlessly long. He thought of the one-room shanties most of the lower class inhabited, and it turned his stomach. Four suits. Was this an armory or something? Who needed this much plate mail? Three suits. The sooner he put a knife in Raustig's throat, the better. Two suits. He stopped dead. Someone was in the room to his right.

He smelled them first. Another musclehead guard, most likely, foul and musky, but then something else... urine? He cautiously sneaked to the doorway, hiding the best he could at the base of one of the suits of armor. A quick look inside showed a horrible scene.

Sure enough, there was a guard, currently throttling a nude skunk, whose ankles and wrists were cuffed together. The slave struggled to fight against the stallion's grip, but the guard was far too strong for his victim. The room was rather tiny and crammed with small cages, inside each of which was one or two male slaves, each watching the scene unfold in terror.

"But sir--I'm sorry! I couldn't hold it in any longer! I tried to tell--"

"Silence!" the stallion roared in the skunk's face, drawing his sword. "Lord Raustig doesn't hire me to clean your filthy messes!" The skunk let out a horrible scream as the flat of the guard's sword smacked him hard in the small of his back. "Lord Raustig has been less than impressed with you... I don't think he'll mind too much if this beating kills you, do you?" The skunk's shrieks grew in intensity as the sword hit him hard in the rump. "Let this be a lesson to all of you! I don't toler--aaaaacccckkkkk!" The stallion fell forward, the hilt of Alistair's dagger protruding from the back of his neck. As the corpse's grip relaxed, the skunk slave fell to the floor, moaning in pain. Alistair put his foot on the stallion's body, yanking out his knife and using his other hand to help up the abused slave.

"It's okay now. He's not going to hurt anyone ever again. And neither will--"

"Lord Raustig!" the skunk cried out in terror.

The fox cut off, feeling something sting the back of his neck. He put his paw up--a dart!--and pulled it out, but he couldn't even keep his fist clenched around it. In fact, he couldn't even hold his body up! "Damn..." he said, barely a whisper, as his muscles failed him and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

A taloned foot came down on his chest. "Well, would you look at that. My very own Fallen Angel." Lord Raustig, a blowgun in his fist, grinned down at the lethargic assassin, who could barely glare at the eagle with the drug flowing through his veins. The last thing Alistair was aware of was the skunk screaming again before his vision faded.

*******************************************************************

Alistair's head throbbed.

The arctic fox groaned, taking a moment to focus his blurry vision. His head felt like it was about to burst, but his strength had mostly returned. He could twist around, kick his legs, struggle with his arms...

Struggle?! Looking up, he realized he was in a luxurious four poster bed, his wrists and tail tied with silk scarves to the headposts. While he was unconscious, Lord Raustig had stripped him, and his lithe body was very uncomfortably exposed. He was rather beautiful for such a feared assassin, with his fur's pure whiteness interrupted only by the pink of his nipples and cock. Soft silk sheets and pillows supported his nude form, which only took up about a fourth of the bed.

The bed's curtains were drawn shut, so Alistair was left to wait for something to happen to him. He struggled against the complex knots--who knew that silk could be so strong?

It was useless. Icewind had been caged. He could slip through any shadow undetected, but here he was, trapped by purple and turquoise bed linens. He exhaled in frustration, making the little furs on his chest wave like a field in the wind. If he could just get at one of his knives... he would pry out Raustig's black heart and skewer it himself.

His ears jerked up at the sound of a door opening. "In the cage. Now."

There was a whimpered "Yes, my lord!" and the slam of what was evidently a cage door. Alistair could see the eagle's silhouette approach the bed curtain. There was a short pause, and wings gripped the silks and drew them back with one dramatic motion. Leering down at him was Lord Raustig, stripped down to his loincloth.

The lord was a muscular harpy eagle, his severe dark eyes intense as they locked with Alistair's cold glare. His gray, almost blue, feathers transitioned to a powerful-looking black chest, his defined abs a sharply contrasting white. The loincloth draped about his waist--probably also silk--was translucent, his large black bulge crassly poking forward, its tip making a slight wet spot on the fabric. As the noble approached, Alistair's nose picked up the sharp, spicy odor of Raustig's musk.

"What good fortune to have caught my very own angel, naughtily sneaking through my domain!" the eagle taunted, climbing over the foot of the bed and raising himself on his knees. Alistair snarled at the avian in fury, his hackles rising with his bestial growls. Raustig only laughed at the pure hatred emanating from the fox. "Fight back while you can, my little angel. Because a prize as succulent as yourself is destined for Lord Raustig's personal harem."

"Go to hell, demon!" Alistair growled in his iciest voice, using his graceful form to propel both feet forward in a kick aimed at the evil bird's chest.

Hands, far, far too strong, promptly locked around his ankles, holding him half suspended in the air. "A demon? You flatter me, angel," Raustig chuckled, making the fox grunt in pain as his grip tightened. "Yet what kind of angel has murdered as many as you? No matter. You will be a fallen angel soon enough, worshiping the very demon it was your duty to slaughter." Alistair snarled again in response, struggling against the lord's impenetrable grip. "Now for your first corruption, little angel." Alistair watched in shock as the eagle's beak opened, tongue pressing against his right heel and making one long stroke to the base of his toes, those almost black eyes staring playfully, triumphantly at him the entire time.

The arctic fox was at a loss for words, feeling heat in his face. Infuriatingly, the eagle smirked at his embarrassment--Alistair snarled even louder this time as his left footpaw was sampled. Struggling some more in Raustig's tight grip, the fox found that all he could do was wiggle his toes in an attempt to claw at his captor's tongue--far from intimidating. This feeling of vulnerability and helplessness, it was new to him. He didn't like it at all!

"What's the matter, angel? Were you expecting torture? We will get there in time, my pet, in time. But I think this is just as effective, wouldn't you say?" He gave the squirming Alistair's paws another luxurious taste.

"Alistair Icewind belongs to no one!" the assassin furiously growled. "I swear you will find a dagger in your heart, Raustig!" He grunted again as Raustig forced his legs to bend, bringing his wet paws to the loincloth.

"Ah, the angel says it belongs to no one? Then there will be no guilt when I mark you as mine," the eagle said, evil satisfaction etched into his features. He rubbed one of Alistair's paws against his groin, the wet spot in his loincloth steadily growing. Alistair felt his paws forced sole to sole, soft cloth between them, and soon Lord Raustig was completely naked, the loincloth wet and sticky under the fox's paws. The eagle casually grabbed the cloth and tossed it into the prisoner's face, making Alistair's senses burn with the noble's spicy scent. Thrashing his head back and forth until the stinking cloth flew from his face, the fox gritted his teeth at the feeling of the warm cock between his soles. Positioned in such a way so that Alistair couldn't claw at the eagle's penis, he was helpless as he was forced to give his captor a pawjob. Already wet with saliva, his paws soon became soaked in the eagle's pre, that incredibly spicy musk attacking his senses once more as it grew stronger. Raustig's muscled chest heaved as he became more aroused, and he rubbed himself against Alistair's soles at a rapidly accelerating pace.

Alistair did his best to remain stoic through it all, just glaring at the eagle as his body was violated. But that become much more difficult as Raustig hoisted the fox's feet upward, exposing the tight ass, another light touch of pink interrupting the pure whiteness of the rest of his body. "You wouldn't dare!" Alistair said in his most intimidating growl, but he was beginning to feel the first jolts of fear deep in the pit of his stomach. Though the fox himself was by no means... inadequate... the eagle had him beat by nearly three inches, and between his paws, it had felt rough and very, very thick. A short breath of pain escaped him as the eagle shifted his grip, taking both struggling ankles in one fist and squeezing hard. The invasive tongue took another taste of the fox's messy footpaws, sounds of pleasure issuing from the cruel beak, only adding to Alistair's humiliation and fury.

"You're a delicious prize, little angel," Raustig sighed, rubbing his beak against his captive's feet and taking in long, hedonistic breaths as if he were trying to capture permanently Alistair's scent. The assassin's revulsion was spiking with each new violation, and he struggled even harder. With only one hand on the fox's ankles, it was harder for the eagle to hold him steady, and Alistair earned himself a small victory by catching Raustig's cheek with a sharp toeclaw.

The crested head jerked away, blood dripping from the light gash on the eagle's face. He looked angry for a moment, but then he smiled at Alistair as though they were ferals and the fox was his cornered prey. "You're lucky that I prefer not to mar your beauty, angel. My talons are excellent flesh rippers." To prove his point, Raustig extended his leg forward, ever so slightly scraping a talon across Alistair's throat. The fox didn't dare struggle--Raustig's toeclaw was like one of his own knives! The eagle's snickering continued to taunt the captive fox as he withdrew his foot, his point made. "For that little... incivility, angel, there will be consequences. I may want to preserve your beauty, but I have many, many playthings against whom I have no qualms ruining." At this comment, a whimper of terror came from the other side of the room. "You'll find that your friend knows this firsthand, angel." The eagle drew back a curtain, leaned over the bed's edge, and picked up something large and bushy. Alistair felt his mouth open in shock as the unmistakable white stripe came into view. He recalled screams as he had passed out earlier--was THAT what Raustig had been doing to the skunk? "Yes, it is rather tacky, isn't it?" the eagle said, mocking the look of revulsion on his captive's face. "Too dowdy for decoration... perhaps it will make a good feather duster, so to speak." Smiling, he dropped the severed tail back to the floor.

"I swear to it! If the gods don't smite you first, I will make your death so painful the world will hear your screams!" At the eagle's last comments, Alistair's shock had transformed into full-fledged fury. "I WILL escape from this, bastard. And I will not rest until I make you repent for all of your crimes." The fox glared, unblinking at the scum who watched him in... amusement?! Usually stoic and aloof, Alistair had never felt so close to losing control as he did now. Utter loathing coursed through him; he wanted nothing more than to break free and tear apart the evil lord in front of him, feather by feather.

Raustig laughed, actually laughed, and gave Alistair's paws another lick. "I would suggest you put stock in those gods, little angel, because as intimidating as you sound, fate's not going to give you a second chance to make up for your failure." Alistair blushed in spite of himself; that one had definitely struck a nerve. Laughing, Raustig licked his middle finger before continuing. "Why don't we see if I can bring down that pesky pride of yours a few notches?" The wet finger touched the rim of Alistair's ass, making him thrash around in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable. "How tight!" the eagle marveled, tracing his fingertip around the sensitive ring of flesh. "Little angel is pure after all!"

"Go to hell!" Alistair barked, managing to get an ankle free and kick hard at Raustig, who ducked his head away just in time.

"Tsk tsk. Now this simply will not do," the eagle said, getting up and going to a dresser, where he pulled two more purple silks. Alistair shouted more profanity, but could do nothing as Raustig grabbed his ankles, squeezing so hard it hurt, bending his flexible body back and tying his footpaws to a set of hooks in the headboard, right above his bound hands. The fox snarled again as Raustig left him in the uncomfortable position to dig through a chest, returning with a wooden paddle, rather large and heavy-looking, with a set of small holes drilled throughout its head. Without warning, Raustig swung the paddle, the air whistling through its holes, and it collided with Alistair's exposed rump.

He almost cried out at the brutal sting. His eyes squeezed shut and he gritted his teeth, not about to give the eagle the satisfaction of his pain. Raustig reached over and squeezed Alistair's ass cheek, which was already beginning to show a tinge of dark pink. "I imagine that doesn't feel very good, now does it? Forty more surely won't help things," the eagle said, stroking the assassin's taut cheeks with the paddle. "I see you don't like that at all!" Raustig laughed, and Alistair realized his body had stiffened involuntarily at the prospect of forty more strikes. "But if the little angel just puts aside his pride and begs for Lord Raustig's forgiveness, we might just forget about this little spanking."

"Go fuck yourself!"

The corners of the eagle's mouth twitched. "Fifty more, then."

Alistair would NEVER submit to the insane noble. He bared his teeth, preparing his body for the paddling. He would get through it; paddling was a children's punishment, and he was an assassin--he dealt with brutal death on a weekly basis!

...But Alistair quickly found that this was no child's spanking. The paddle howled, picking up speed thanks to the holes bored into it, slamming against his ass cheeks, once, twice, thrice! Already it was taking every ounce of his will to keep silent, but his sharp breaths and tensed body betrayed his pain to the eagle as strikes number four and five struck his bottom. Those violating hands groped his cheeks, which were now visibly red, squeezing, massaging, somehow working in the pain and making his ass burn even more! "Such delicate flesh! We're just getting started and already you look nice and tenderized! Now let's focus on this side..." Raustig said, giving the fox's left cheek a slap with his hand before paddling it. A shudder coursed through Alistair's body in his effort to fight the pain, but it was so difficult--the paddle hit him again, and again, and--

"AGH!" Alistair let it slip before he could stop himself. Raustig's hands groped him again, caressing the tender fox flesh. "Let... go... rrggghh!" No matter how hard he struggled against the silk that held him to the bedframe, he could do nothing as his body continued to be violated.

"Poor little angel..." Raustig cooed in mock pity, delivering more swats to his prisoner's sore ass. As much as the vulpine tried to fight it, he could no longer mask his cries of pain. "Too proud to apologize to his Lord!" SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. The assassin's yelps grew less controlled as his pain became more unbearable. "Such a lovely voice!" SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. "Perhaps I'll arrange to have you trained to serenade me--songs by day, screams by night!" SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. Alistair was too busy howling to retort. "Can you imagine? My very own angel, singing from his cage!" The arctic fox squirmed and thrashed as the blows relentlessly continued thrashing his rump. Pain exploded through him, screaming as it traveled through his nerves, peppered with the sting of Lord Raustig's humiliating insults and taunts. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. The stings moved up his thighs, the eagle's free hand groping his bruised cheeks, stroking his tailhole, molesting his soft ballsac...

By this point, Alistair had lost his cool demeanor completely. The agony of the paddling, combined with his indignation and humiliation gave his cries a very conflicted sound of pain, anger, and... dare he say it...? vulnerability. Loud and panicked shrieks, tinged with guttural sounds of growls, with the slightest hint of a whine--he couldn't stop them. He couldn't hold back, no matter how hard he tried. And judging by the fervor with which Raustig beat him, his captor knew of this new control he had over the assassin and was having the time of his life.

"Yes, that should do quite nicely," Raustig said, putting down the paddle and caressing Alistair's ass cheeks, now a violent shade of red tinged with purple. The fox gasped at the touch--how was it possible for his ass to hurt this much?! He bristled as he realized that Raustig was laughing at him. "Poor angel... The demon only went a few spankings over fifty. A few dozen, that is. Heheheh." The eagle gave his captive's balls a squeeze, climbing back on the bed and bending over Alistair. While the violating hands moved to Alistair's nipples, Raustig's beak opened, his thick tongue sampling the fox's shaft and moving up the assassin's abs and chest all the way to the tip of his chin. "Little more obedient now, aren't you, angel?" The eagle chuckled, squeezing the fox's nipples and leering down at him.

Alistair's response was to spit in the lord's face.

There was a tense pause, the glob of spit slowly trickling down the eagle's beak. He reached up, wiping it away and rubbing it between his fingers. "My, my. You're stronger than I thought. More foolhardy too. Not a loss, though, by any means," Raustig said, lowering his wet hand. Another gasp escaped Alistair as his own spit was rubbed into his asshole, the eagle's fingers a lot less gentle than before. "Can't let this go to waste, now can we?"

Alistair's ass now completely lubed up, Raustig pushed himself off the bed and opened a drawer on his nightstand. "As much as I have enjoyed hearing your voice, angel, we're going to have to keep that naughty mouth shut for a while." The eagle held up a dog muzzle before climbing back into the bed.

The fox was able to get out one last "Fuck you, devil-spawn!" before Raustig forced the muzzle over his face and buckled it behind his head. The eagle sat back, admiring his work and watching the helpless assassin struggle against the bonds on his wrists, ankles, tail, and mouth.

"Now to continue what I started: defiling my angel's purity!" There was an unsettling note of triumph in Raustig's voice. Alistair felt his jaw muscles tighten at the hate that coursed through him, growling as his mouth fought fruitlessly against the straps of leather on his face. Licking his middle finger again, Raustig stroked the fox's wet entrance, his free hand squeezing a bruised cheek and making Alistair squirm at the fresh waves of pain. Frustrated grunts came from Alistair's bound muzzle; how he wanted to kill Raustig! A knife wouldn't be good enough... he wanted to make the eagle's death painful and agonizing, to give him a taste of his own tortures!

"MMMMMMMMMMMMFFFFFF!" For all Raustig's love of savoring the moment, his finger shoved crudely into Alistair's ass, purely brute force as it jabbed full length inside the fox. Virgin hole as it was, pain splintered like electricity through Alistair's insides, making him howl through closed lips in the agony of being penetrated. His entire body tensed at this new violation, his toes curling and eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to fight the pain.

But the pain of being entered was nothing compared to what followed. Raustig plunged the digit in and out, wiggling it deep inside the assassin and making muffled moans and grunts issue from Alistair's muzzle. "Such a tight little angel you are!" the eagle said gleefully, grabbing one of the fox's bound ankles and licking the footpaw it belonged to. "All MINE!"

"MMMMMMRRRPPPPHHHHHHHMMMM!!!" And then Raustig's index finger joined his middle inside the fox, relentlessly fucking him. Alistair had never imagined this would happen to him, or that it would hurt this much--if this was only two fingers, what was the inevitable cock going to feel like?! "MRRRRRRRFFFFFFFF!!!" he quickly got another dose of painful fullness as Finger Number Three plunged inside him.

The column of fingers picked up speed as Raustig began fully molesting the fox's entire body. Footpaws, chest, face... it seemed no part of him was safe from the eagle's predatory licks and gropes, his humiliation growing and accented with the increasingly painful thrusts of his first fingering.

"What a perfect body! Mmmmm!" Raustig licked his beak after a horribly long taste around Alistair's balls. The tongue licked up the snowy fur again, ending in a lick on the nose and cheeks followed by nips on his delicate ears. And Alistair was helpless to it all! No matter how much he tried to fight, his bonds only seemed to get tighter, and his struggles only seemed to provoke his captor even more. How could the Angel of Judgment be defeated in such a stupid, humiliating way?! Never had he felt so frustrated!

And then Raustig pulled his fingers out of him, instead gripping and pumping the throbbing black erection jutting out in front of the white feathers of his thighs and groin. The eagle was more aroused than ever; pre dripped from the pointed cocktip, the spicy stink of avian musk burning Alistair's nostrils. The assassin's fears were about to be confirmed.

"It's time to be marked as Lord Raustig's slave, angel," the eagle said, gripping Alistair's footpaws and clasping his fingers between the fox's toes. His penis brushed between the assassin's cheeks, as if to savor the moment before Alistair's deflowering. The fox could put up a defiant front no longer; his head hit the wood of the bed in his attempt to shy away from the big cock that hungered for his abused flesh. "Oh no, you're not escaping from this!" the eagle hissed in victory, bending forward to lick at his prisoner's face again. As much as Alistair was loath to admit it, with his body and mouth bound to the lord's bed, already violated with a large cocktip pressed against his entrance, the eagle was right; the fox was going to be raped, and he could do nothing to stop it. A shudder passed through his body as his lips met Raustig's beak in an awkward kiss. The hands squeezed his footpaws, bending his legs farther back and making his muscles burn with the stretching. He could feel the eagle's dick, teasing him and refusing to enter--he just wanted this over with! But Raustig's slimy tongue continued licking down his face and to his nipples, making him squirm and cry out as the cruel beak gave them playful bites. An unfamiliar feeling, adrenaline making his entire body quiver, was like a slap in the face to remind him how much self-control he had lost. "Awwww... is the angel scared?" Raustig mocked, rubbing his erection back and forth across the fox's anus. "Well, you won't have to worry, my little snow angel. I'm going to take it slow and really savor you!" he laughed, pulling his cock downward so it was pressed flush against his tailhole. Alistair realized that he WAS scared, terror coursing through him like acid. He now knew how his victims felt at the final moment before their death at his knife; he had always been the hunter, but now he was the prey.

He actually screamed as it entered him. True to his word, Raustig took it slowly--agonizingly so. The cocktip, much bigger than the fingers that were his entire experience with anal sex, speared open his insides, burning, BURNING! Oh god, it was like fire inside him! It was paired with a horrible fullness; he felt so plugged inside, but the head of the eagle's cock was barely penetrating him. Raustig gently rolled his hips forward, smiling down at Alistair, who was shaking his head in panic, his body so tense it hurt.

The eagle pulled backward, the fox's anal ring closing around the thinner part of his cocktip. "It will hurt considerably less if you let your body relax," he said, not a taunt, just a statement, confusing Alistair--was the eagle trying to help him?! As if he could relax; he had never felt less calm in his life. He knew it was useless, but he fought against his bondage, desperation taking the place of rationale as he tried to fight his rapist.

"Suit yourself, angel," Raustig sighed, pressing forward into the stiff fox, who screamed as more of the shaft entered him this time. Alistair groaned as the eagle started slowly bucking his hips, cock never completely in, never completely out. "Mmmmm... such a tight fuck!" He pulled all the way out again, making Alistair howl as the head left his stretched hole. The muffled howls grew in volume with the return of Raustig's finger, swirling the mix of precum and saliva inside the fox. "Looks like we'll be needing more of this," the eagle said, spitting into his hand and lubing up his cock with a squelching sound that made Alistair sick to his stomach. The wet hand returned to Alistair's footpaw, clasping the toes again and gripping so hard it hurt.

The cock entered him again, not as painful as before. Alistair thought that perhaps his body had adjusted to the eagle's cock until the fire returned, more painful than ever. Raustig had buried himself deep inside the fox, far deeper than Alistair had thought possible, making his muffled scream more panicked than ever. The eagle let it sit inside him for a moment, and Alistair groaned at what came with this small bit of mercy. Raustig's invading tongue licked at every bit of Alistair it could reach, as if to tell the fox that the lord had dominion over every inch of snowy fur. The blunt tongue lapped at his face, Alistair flinching and trying to turn away in disgust. But the cruel beak closed on his ear, yanking his head back to face his rapist. At the same time, the cock inside him began a deliberate humping motion.

Alistair moaned. He couldn't help it. The eagle had reached some point deep inside him and it struck something he didn't understand. It was pain, definite agony, but it was like a shock to his brain, one that blurred his vision and made his body relax a bit. He had no time to contemplate it, however, as Raustig increased the distance and strength of his thrusts.

As his deflowering continued, Alistair never stopped making some sort of cry; his muzzled mouth issued a long stream of moans and whines punctuated by screaming. Raustig gradually increased the length of the thrusts until he was moving almost his entire length in and out of the fox's ass. Now full length, Alistair's moans and screams combined into a sort of muffled, carnal howl, Raustig falling into a pattern of three quick thrusts followed by a powerful one that stayed inside for a few seconds before repeating, actually pushing the fox into the headboard of the bed with the brute force of the fuck.

The beak mercifully let his ear go so it could give a feral screech of dominance, thrusts picking up until Alistair was just screaming one long cry at the brutality of it all. They got faster, faster... he felt like his insides were being destroyed... the eagle's wings let go of his feet and grabbed his face instead, forcing him to look into Raustig's triumphant eyes...

One last powerful thrust, and Alistair felt his insides fill with... he didn't want to think about it! He screamed again as the eagle pulled out, kneeling on Alistair's chest, one hand holding the fox's face, the other pumping the still-erect black cock. This wasn't happening! Alistair wouldn't let it! He fought against the strong hand on his muzzled face, desperate to stop it...

Eagle cum, warm and sticky, gushed onto his face, one, two, three, four, five humiliating spurts coating it, trickling down his muzzle, his cheeks, his chin, his ears! He could smell nothing but the pure masculinity of Raustig now, the exotic spiciness dominating his senses just as the eagle had taken his body.

He felt Raustig's talon brush against his erection--his erection?! Absolutely NOTHING about the rape had been pleasurable--why was his body doing this to him?! With a grin, Raustig raised himself from Alistair's body, groping the fox's cock. "Your turn, angel," the eagle said, his dripping cock brushing against his prisoner's ruined ass.

Alistair screamed, convulsing in his bonds in a desperate attempt to stop it. But as usual, it was fruitless. Raustig took no effort to be gentle this time, fucking him at top speed while pumping the cock that had betrayed him with its arousal.

A defeated moan came from Alistair's muzzled lips, his forced orgasm spraying over his chest and belly as Raustig came again deep inside him. His insides were pure agony as the eagle's huge length pulled out of him, cum flooding out of his ass like a drain onto the bed. He could feel his consciousness ebbing away, barely protesting as Raustig grabbed the discarded loincloth, used it to wipe at the puddle of cum, and then smeared it all over his muzzled face. His nostrils burned with the stink of eagle sex, but his vision was foggy. He was dimly aware of Raustig bringing the skunk into the bed... "Clean... your hero... more fun...tomorrow..."

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Lord Raustig laughed at the unconscious arctic fox on his bed, looking so peaceful in spite of the bondage, bruises, and cum all over his body. It was amazing how the most feared assassin of the land could look so cute. His skunk lapped at the bedsheets in terrified silence, and Raustig knew the slave was fully aware no one could free him now. His talon touched the soft fur of the tail underneath his bed. Oh, the skunk certainly had learned something tonight. He only hoped that Icewind had too.

But if he hadn't, no matter, Raustig told himself as he buckled a dog collar on his new slave. There would be plenty of time to tame someone as beautiful and valuable as Icewind. As the skunk continued his degrading task, Raustig slipped on a robe and sat at his desk, scribbling out an order for more marble and some sculptors. The Angel of Judgment needed a pedestal befitting of his beauty and fame. The eagle smirked. Infamy, now.

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"Oh, Lord Raustig, your socials are simply wonderful!"

The eagle chuckled, clinking his glass with the peacock noblewoman. "I thank you, milady," he said, dipping his head in acknowledgement. The throng of the upper class chatted gaily, dressed in their finery and comparing their lavishness. Servants ducked in and out, muzzled so they could not steal an undeserved sample of the expensive food and drink they carried to their superiors on silver platters. There were friendships among the lords and ladies, of course, but it was really a big competition to see who was the most superior.

And Lord Raustig of House Accipitra was rather confident he was winning this particular competition. As host, his art and finery were on full display to all his guests. And the main attraction was his newest work. He caught the arm of a wolf from a rival house, whose brother had met his end at Alistair's dagger a year prior. "Lord Thoas, have you seen The Fallen Angel's Judgment yet?" he asked, turning his head and smirking at the living sculpture against the wall. The wolf grinned, walking to the display.

Alistair hung by his wrists and ankles, which were hogtied behind his back along with his tail, exposing him for the two bull slaves that were chained to the marble pedestal, harnesses around their waists forcing the former assassin to pleasure them as he was spitroasted. Still, though, the arctic fox glared at Raustig, his blue eyes icy as ever.

"However did you manage to capture him, Raustig?" the wolf asked, stroking Alistair's head, making him give a muffled snarl. His fury was unfortunate for the bull he was sucking off, who squirmed and cried out as the points of the fox's teeth pricked his sensitive flesh. "Still quite... difficult, isn't he?"

Raustig laughed, setting his glass on a table and joining Thoas. "The ice angel has some fire in him. But it definitely keeps things interesting. I think he knows that he's my little plaything, though." The eagle's hand stroked lightly over Alistair's footpaws, getting just the result he wanted. The glare faltered, just for a moment, an expression of vulnerability, of submission, breaking through the assassin's facade. It was a flicker, but the two noblemen saw it, and Alistair knew that they had, judging by the blush they could see through his snowy fur. Lord Raustig chuckled, patting the wolf on the back. "When I first captured him, he called me a demon. Of course it was meant as an insult, but I quite honestly was flattered. It's not often that a demon triumphs over an angel, is it?"

The two noblemen laughed; picking up new crystal glasses of spiced wine from a tray borne by a skunk slave who seemed even more submissive than his fellow servers, conspicuously lacking his species' large, bushy tail. After the slave scurried away with his empty platter, Lord Thoas raised his glass to the eagle. "Lord Raustig, if that dog is an angel, then I rather think that we should begin siding with the world's demons. Drink to them?"

The eagle laughed again. "To demons, friend." The nobles downed their wine, chatting idly as they walked away from Alistair Icewind. The Angel of Judgment's name would get a much different reaction from the land's nobles now, and all it took was a simple sculpture. Lord Raustig gave a small sigh of satisfaction. Art was simply wonderful.