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Blinking into the flickering shadows, some noisome incense searing his sensitive nose as effective as any smelling salt in an apothecary's stocks, Adolphus returned reulctantly to consciousness. The doberman groaned, as he attempted and failed to sit up, coarse bonds binding him to the rough stone that chafed against his back.

A voice called out, dulcet and urbane, above the droning chants that brought about a sickening wrenching of his gut, as though his innards had come upon a life of their own, and were squirming to burst free. 'Ah, Herr Adolphus, you return to the land of the wakeful. Be at ease, there is little point in struggling.'

The canine tried squinting through the blindfold, but all he could make out were writhing dark shapes, thrown up by the flickering flames. Flexing his muscles as subtly as he could, the Inquisitor began testing the rope at his wrist and ankles for give.

A wave of dizziness engulfed him, no doubt the lingering effects of whatever drug the cultists had used to render him unconscious, and his blood seethed as his blessed constitution burnt the toxin from his veins.

A lingering brush on his flank caused him to twist away instinctively, and bringing to him the stark realisation that he had been stripped of his clothing. His fur stood on end, a growl rising to his throat at the unwelcome touch.

'You've made a terrible mistake, heretic. My brothers will come for you, and when they are done, nothing will be left of your coven but embers and ash.'

There was a delighted chuckle, and hands pushed down gently on his chest, their owner leaning over him deliberately, close enough he tensed, preparing to lunge forward and tear at the face of his captor. Male, canine, from the smell, musk tinged with the clean scent of smoke and mild musk.

'My my, such brave words,' the hands caressed him gently, and as the voice spoke, they seem to drain away his will, leaving him unable to move. 'They must teach all of you Inquisitors the same threats. And I've heard many. Though you're a welcome change from the stolid old priests and decrepit witch hunters the Order usually sends. So very... virile.'

His cheeks flushed at that comment, something that did not escape his tormentor's notice, from the laugh that ensued. His ascetic lifestyle at the monastery kept him in peak physical condition, but that to him that had been the end of it. He'd spared little thought to how others might perceive him.

This had been the first time the Order had asked he infiltrate and investigate, and he'd taken to the task as dilligently as he had his previous duties. Unfortunately, his previous experiences had left him with little training in dissembling.

Kicking down doors and tossing torches to send burning heathens on their way to meet the Almighty required little in the way of subtlety. Tasked with finding out if there was anything strange about the prosperity of the little seaport, even as plague and famine swept the lands around them, he went about his task the only way the forthright young man could.

The last memory he had was of the warm taproom of the inn, sipping wine as he questioned his fellow patrons who had seemed an innocent enough sort. Shaking his head, Adolphus breathed deep, his mind racing as he sought a plan to get himself out of his predicament.

He struggled to draw breath, as the chants rose to screams of appeal to whatever unholy power these madmen worshipped. There was a weight on his chest, and the doberman barked in surprise as a weight straddled him. He gasped, as a musk so primal filled his nose, even through the cloying smoke.

A tinkling laugh rang through the chants, girlish and obscenely out of place. The body pressed up against him burned with an unnatural heat, the stranger's bare flesh and silken furs rubbed sensuously against his own.

'Hello, plaything,' the voice purred softly. The figure seemed to squirm in pleasure, as she ground herself obscenely against the helpless canine. She smelt of sandalwood and sex, and he panted with racing heart as her paws traced delicate meandering patterns across his body.

He howled in surprise as claws suddenly extended from those same paws, gouging deep furrows of blood along his flanks. The wounds burned, and were he not blindfolded, he would have been alarmed to say the least, as rivulets of his lifebood soaked into the altar, causing it to glow and smoulder unnaturally the stone seemed to drink from his fluids.

'A gift? For me? You shouldn't have...' purred the voice once more, and Adolphus watched in entranced horror, as the shadow raised her paw to her lips, and licked his blood from them coquettishly.

'Tell me what you want, little pup. Your wildest desires. A last wish of sorts. But before you answer, let me put you...' the feline lifted her legs with a dancer's grace, and lowered her hindquarters towards his muzzle, 'in the right frame of mind'.

Through the blindfold, he could only make out vague shadows, but the scent of her arousal crashed into him like a wildebeest charge. He instinctively muttered prayers of absolution under his breath, but that seemed to only make things worse, as he could taste her at the back of his throat, salty tanged, and even as he twisted his muzzle aside, the heat of her proximity seemed to lick at his face.

The part of him that remained lucid urged him to resist, but even this voice was soon shouted down by the clamouring of his lust, as he felt a paw on his engorged arousal. That paw was soon joined by a rough caress that could only have been her tongue, dragging over the most sensitive parts of his body.

In a fit of monumental willpower, Adolphus ordered his thoughts, reciting the prayers of absolution and protection against corruption under his breath. He narrowed his mind, dredging forth memories which reminded him of why he had taken the path of the Inquisitor. Images of depravity and madness, brought about by the pagan cults that blighted their lands, all rushed to the forefront of his mind in a horrible rush of blood and suffering.

His tormentor's sigh drew him back to the present. Detached, he felt a small surge of triumph, as she jumped lithely off him. He had won, fought off the vile temptress. Now it was only a matter of working at these bonds until-

There was a sudden sharp pressure on his chest. It began to increase, as though a void had bloomed inside his rib cage, and was sucking his heart into some otherworldly plane. He would have cried out, save his inability to draw breath. The sharp snapping sounds, almost an afterthought, brought a burning wave of agony as his ribs caved inward, plunging into his lungs.

'You know, your kind say we're cruel. But really, you're like fowl, complaining about becoming tomorrow's roast, forgetting the care and nurturing we give. For what use would a fowl have, if not to feed their betters?'

He could not reply, every bit of effort was spent clinging frantically to life, his lungs a gurgling mess, awash with filling blood and mucous.

'I offer you a painless, nay, a easeful fading into ecstacy, but you have the gall to throw it back at me. Well.'

The dying Adolphus, for that was surely his fate at this point, could only let out a faint whimper as he felt her paw fondling his now unaroused organs. His faint cries even managed to raise almost unnoticably in pitch, as her claws extended slightly, drawing shallow cuts in an area decidedly averse to injury of any kind. Fortunately for the doberman, the blood loss and lack of oxygen had already allowed him to succumb to a rather faintheaded numbness at this point.

'I wasn't lying when I said I found you attractive. So I'll leave you with your precious manhood. Maybe you can please me better in damnation than you did tonight.'

Without further ceremony, an athame of tainted silver materialised in her paws. Unnaturally precise, she plunged it into his chest with mechanical efficiency, carving around the ruin of his broken ribs. With a sickening crunch and the gristly tearing of flesh, she lifted out his frantically thudding heart, which had been neatly severed from the rest of his body.

She tossed it, almost carelessly into a waiting brazier, which flared with dark violent flames, and a puff of noisome smoke. There was a primal scream, one that drowned out the last choked cries of Adolphus as life left his flesh.

A surge of darkness gushed from the brazier, enveloping the cat, and she purred as it licked over every inch of her body. It seemed to pause and linger as it crossed parts of her that were spattered with blood, or of her arousal. Then as quickly as it had emerged, it withdrew.

'And so the die is cast. The Order will never let this stand. Let us prepare for their arrival.'