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The Lunt Street Ripper's Sentence (5)

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Hello, and welcome to this ongoing commission to Sanmer , chronicling the life of a Victorian gentleman and his...servants. Indeed, it is quite the tale, and I hope you will enjoy reading this, and do tell me how you liked it!

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The room was windowless and located to the underground floor the horse had set to construct, below the kitchens, to cold storage areas and pantries, a quiet, damp area not seen by many and not frequented by anyone unless necessary. Stone steps led into a corridor lit with the electric bulbs the stallion prided himself with. The walls were chalked to be a pearly white as was the vaulted ceiling, giving it a cool, hygienic appearance, not unlike a sanatorium, though it was missing the open windows and healthy vistas associated with such places of recovery and wellbeing.

The bare corridor was lined with doors, sturdy wood, reinforced with metal and bolted shut. On this particular hallway, only one of the rooms was at the moment occupied, the rest remaining empty, for possible unwanted guests to the mansion or some future newcomers, at least in the stallion's quiet, if thrilling plans of grandeur.

Pip walked across the hallway with a long, stern stride. The long-furred wolf's body was marvelously displayed by the leather straps of the harness he wore, a double X across his chest and his back, shiny metal rings, collar, the customary metal rings around his tail, his sheath and his ball sac to hive him the wanton appearance the stallion preferred. It was in deep contrast with the wolf's stature, tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes that spoke of a strong temper that had not been easily tamed, even with the help of the stallion's abilities that would have bordered on the supernatural had the horse not been too well aware of their basis in the Oriental sciences, botany, and a good deal of faith in his skills.

Keys swung on the wolf's hip, much like the semi-hard member protruding from his sheath. The wolf seemed to pay no attention to his arousal, walking with resolute steps, leather boots snapping to the flagstones covering the flooring. The thick leather kept him from feeling the coldness that attempted to seep within from the ground itself, the source of the perpetual cool and moist air in this undervault of the grand house.

The wolf stopped in front of the door he wanted, and used a latch to open a small peephole in the door. The metal shield covered an opening that was fitted with a thick pane of glass that had been worked to act as a lens that might have distorted the view, but provided with an angle unmeasured by the normal eye. He could see the entire room, leaning against the hole, his enhanced viewpoint leaving no hiding places inside the room.

Pip's lupine ears flicked against the cold door while he stared inside the cell. It was bare to the utmost, only providing a straw-filled mattress on the floor, a cistern on the corner of the room for relieving one's self, and a light bulb in a meshed metal fitting on the ceiling that cast the electric glow into the white-walled room. There was no window, no corners, no shapes nor anything attractive to keep one's eye occupied. The room offered its inhabitant nothing but one's self for amusement, which was its purpose, clearly. Whatever was in the room, was by choice of its Master, and right now, there was a wolf.

The servant observed his fellow wolf named Ripper by their Master. The wolf sat on the dirty mattress, knees close to his chest, head hung but not onto his knees. He stared resolutely ahead of him, paws on his sides and facing upwards to show the yellowed claws. The eyes had nothing of the dull affect the other occupants of the house possessed, by no means. They were sharp, bright, and shockingly acute, even if they seemed to be looking somewhere far beyond, possibly a vista or an image so deep inside his own mind that it could not be spoken about. His long tail made the occasional movement, but that was the only thing about him that was not unnatural still. Not a single ear flick, only a barely perceptible rise of his chest when he inspired air and then left it out. The wolf on the other side of the door could not hear the sound, but he could imagine it.

It set his own heart beating faster, when he began to unlock the door, remove its latches, and to open the way into the little chamber.

The wolf couldn't resist his ears moving this time around, from the heavy noise of the metal door opening. The lupine whom entered left it open, and stepped in incrementally, to give himself room while keeping his distance from the seated wolf. The one called Ripper still remained on his ragged mattress, some six feet from the canine whom had stepped into his cell.

"Ripper," Pip spoke, his voice deep and gravely from the chewing tobacco he had indulged in before his Master had put a final end to such bad habits that could ruin the looks of his thralls, "are you well?"

The seated wolf did not speak.

"I presume you are hungry, but I have not been given orders to feed you and hence I cannot," the wolf continued.

Even the Ripper's tail tip didn't flinch.

"I am sure the Master will let you eat later."

The Ripper moved with such speed that it surprised the wolf who had been standing there calmly, without much concern, it seemed. The larger wolf leaped up in a flash. His footpaws tore the simple mattress into shreds and threw bits of discolored, musty straws into the air behind him, while his body was flying forward. Elbows close to his body, his back arched, his tail stiff and high, his maw open, jaws, his dirty, yellow teeth dripping with saliva. His eyes, previously distant, were suddenly fierce and painfully acute.

His stench was overwhelmingly musky, even after the bath last night that had had him stroked with lavender soaps and oils and soaked in water for over an hour. His skin had simply oozed so much of it overnight that almost no traces remained of the luxurious treatment upon his hide.

He leaped, he pounced, and he flew towards Pip with his maw open and a growl coming out of his muzzle that had signaled the end of numerous lives, some the police constabulary had not even investigated for the lack of a body that could have been found to be discovered, let alone identified with any certainty after the wolf known as Ripper had been through with them.

Pip's body twisted only enough in reaction that when the Ripper struck him, the large wolf was sent flying into the hallway and sprawled on its stone floor. A flash of pain shot up his body and air escaped from his lungs...the horrifying growl still ringing in his ears.

The terrifying noise of ripping muscle and the slither of blood did not fill the subterranean corridor, however.

The Ripper laid on top of the wolf, his limbs unable to move and a gasp stuck in his throat that reduced to move.

He was unable to breathe.

"...mistake..." Pip hissed. His hiss brought a spittle of blood out of his muzzle and onto the flagstones.

He crawled away from beneath the dead weight of the wolf, got up to his knees, then to his feet, and stared down at the Ripper's unmoving form on the floor. The wolf's energy had been consumed in an instant, and now the grey beast simply laid there, not even his eyes moving. They stared ahead of him, his tongue lolled out of his muzzle and his tail hung limp.

Pip spat again, wiped his muzzle, and grimaced. There was a throbbing pain all over his chest and his shoulder, and he had definitely bit into his lip. It felt sore when he ran his tongue against it.

"A terrible mistake, Ripper..."

The wolf on the floor only saw the harnessed male's footpaws. He was unable to lift his head or move his limbs. He could only lie still, and no amount of will was able to put any of his muscles into action, including those that moved air into his lungs.

"The Master has taken away your will, Ripper," the wolf said, "you can try, but this is what will always happen. His Will can do this to you if you try to fight against the Master, Ripper..."

The Ripper's body burnt. His head began to swim. His throat gasped, beyond voluntary control.

"You will be able to breathe soon," Pip said.

As if on command, the Ripper's diaphragm moved into action and forced air into his lungs. The sucking noise echoed from the narrow walls. The wolf's breathing returned in panting, gasping, raspy gulps of air that were now allowed to flow freely.

"We have all tried and we have both known that terror, Ripper," Pip's voice sounded even more gravely than before, "you should not attempt it again."

The Ripper did not move from the floor.

"You do...s...Satan's...bidding..." the huffing wolf spoke in a voice that sounded like claws on stone.

"I only serve my Master," Pip replied. "And so will you. You have disgraced yourself. You should move back into your quarters and make yourself presentable before your Master arrives. He has said that he will be here soon."

The Ripper snorted.

"I don't..." he grumbled, "...feel...compulsion..."

"We all only serve the Master," Pip replied. His own breathing was steadying by now, but his posture showed that he still suffered from an ache on his shoulder, the one that had been slammed onto the floor, "and you should be lucky that his Will stopped you before you could harm me. He is quite fond of me, you know."

"He...is...no...man..." the Ripper said.

"Oh, he is, believe me," Pip replied, "a man with a Will he can put on others."

"It's...not right..." the Ripper grunted.

"You'll learn it's not so bad," the leather-strapped wolf spoke to his kin, in a voice oddly devoid of emotion, "compared to the other choices..."

The Ripper chortled.

"The streets..." the wolf grunted. The feel of cold stone reminded him of the cobbles. The walls he could scale like no other, the roofs he could use as if they were simple turnpikes. There was wind, there was rain whipped into the air, and there was blood spilled over the rocks, coppery and fine.

He could see a few drops on the floor, immensely loud against the grey stone and the shiny white walls and the colorless ceiling. The smell tickled all the way to the back of his throat. He wanted to slither his tongue out and lick it up, roll the flavor in his maw so that it'd reach his nose and enjoy it to the fullest extent.

He could grab the wolf's ankle and pull until he would fall onto the floor and crack his head...a single 'umph!' and life would drain from him...and then...blood...thick and sweet...

His throat began to tighten as the thought composed, and that brought the wolf's ears down against his skull. The wolf's lips moved, and he grunted, but could not feel air flowing from his lungs.

it was threatening to happen again. His eyes moved rapidly, to look at the wolf whom was staring down at the stubbornly unmoving wolf spread across the hallway.

"Remember your choices, Ripper," the wolf said, "I intend not to hurt you, not even after what you did. I bear no ill feelings for any of my brothers."

"I..." the wolf gasped...and air was in his lungs again, and he spluttered out a few meaningless syllables before his breathing began to flow easily and unimpeded once more, "...am not your...brother..."

"You will get used to it," Pip said. "You are a handsome wolf. You thrill me."

And true enough, the wolf's cock seemed to be growing stiffer, despite the earlier rough treatment from his latest brother during his attempt to charge his way out of his holding room. Several fleshy inches, a stout knot, darkly furred balls, the rings only worked to draw it all more taut and make his cock even harder. Pip glanced down at his hardness and smirked crookedly at the wolf.

"Look what you do to me, brother..." Pip rumbled.

"Filthy...bugger..." the Ripper hissed.

"Don't be so harsh," Pip spoke in reply.

"WHAT IS THIS?!"

The voice boomed down the hallway and caused Pip to snap up to attention, back straight, head high, tail still behind him while he looked ahead of him. Perhaps it was the command in his mind or a simple habit of precision, bur he stood there in attention like a soldier about to be drilled, despite the dripping cock protruding from his leather-covered loins. The Ripper tilted his head enough to see the shape of the stallion coming down the corridor with quick steps, followed by the looming shape of the large lion he had seen the night before.

The Master was clad in simple brown trousers and a white shirt of linen, finely cut and stitched despite its very simple nature. It was not a gentleman's usual day attire, but the horse rarely wore much more while he simply loitered around his home. There were no eyes that could be outraged by his dress, but he also knew that all things considered, his state of clothing was likely the least of any outsider's worries about what took place behind the walls of the manor house.

Right now he seemed stern and even angry, his mane flying behind him as he approached the sight of the two lupine members of his household. The lion followed him close by and placed himself between the stallion and the wolf on the floor as they came to a standstill by them.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Master inquired.

"He attempted to resist, Milord," Pip bowed his head lightly before he looked upright again. "He took a lunge at me."

The horse looked down at the wolf's impassive look, and then at Pip again.

"Are you hurt?"

"I was struck on the floor by Ripper, Milord, but I have no injuries besides my lip and a knock on my shoulder, Milord," Pip replied.

"You must have Stuart look at you," the horse replied, "he can give you laudanum if there are any pains."

"I am fine, Milord," the wolf insisted.

The stallion looked down at the wolf whom was resolutely unchanging in his posture on the floor, where he had really been shuffled by Pip when he removed himself from beneath the wolf after he had lost his ability to move on his own accord. It seemed one kind of a challenge to his authority, and even more so, his Will, whatever the leather-suited wolf had meant by that when speaking to Ripper earlier.

"See this?" the horse pointed with his hand into the cell and then onto the corridor, and down at the wolf lying down. "This is how far you got after you decided to escape. It is what, four, five yards? You managed to resist the Will for the time it took for you to move five yards out of where you were supposed to be, Ripper. You have no idea how many steps it would take to leave these premises. You may try, but the effect will be the same. I presume you already felt it now."

"He did, Milord," Pip said.

The stallion nodded.

"Yes...the lack of air in your lungs, the touch of death upon your soul...when your own body fails you...and no matter what you do, you cannot make it do what you wish it to do...even at the risk of death..." the horse said," that's what you know, now, Ripper, and I am sure that even a beast like you cares for his life enough to know that it will be not beneficial for you to try this again."

The Ripper let out his breath slowly, as if showcasing the fact that he was free to do so now.

"And you hurt Pip, too, which is inexcusable," the horse continued, "the commands in your wretched soul prevent you from doing so...but it seems that there are still limits...indeed..."

"You...will...die..." the wolf snarled.

"You may think so, but you will find that your flesh no longer agrees with that particular desire," the horse replied coolly. "I am very disappointed."

"I...don't...care..."

"Pip, are you able to move him?"

"Yes, Milord," the wolf replied immediately.

"Pip, Robert, take him to the training chamber and start on what was to be done today," the horse said, "I will be there later today to oversee. Make sure he learns what there is to be learned. Ripper, move with them."

The large wolf and the equally muscled lion moved forward. The Ripper, facing the two leather-harnessed males, did not resist as he was picked up by from under his arms and put to his feet again. The naked wolf glared at the stallion who stood there with very little expression on his face, as the two stared upon one another. For now, the horse's will, with his physical presence, was enough to control the Ripper.

They both knew it.

"Take him away," the horse said, "start it all."

"Yes, Milord," Robert rumbled.

The stallion watched his two assigned...trainers...lead the wolf away along the corridor, and then through a bend. The horse looked at the blood stain on the floor and clicked his tongue with distaste.

"There is cleaning to be done," he mused to himself, his voice hollow in the dark hallway he now solely stood in, "much cleaning indeed."

The stallion's tail snapped against his rear. He felt frustrated. The animal magnetism should have been more powerful on its grip on this one, despite his great powers of the will. He had known that the wolf was not a simple beast, not to be controlled very easily. He had instilled every layer of suggestion perfectly, the Master thought, as he made his way back along the corridor.

Had he put himself and his thralls to true danger? He knew that there were limitations, that he might have been stretching the very boundaries of not only his abilities but the arcane art itself. If there had been a miscalculation...

He would have to do more studying, he decided, fingers touching the quad of L's spinning on his amulet. The horse reached the gilded gates of the lift carriage, entered, and twisted the brass lever to take him to the main floor of the house. The lift cage trembled a little under the power of the electric motor running the steel cables. The horse felt a different kind of power go through him, not that generated by his will but the thrilling, unyielding power of ingenuity put into a physical form.

Technology was as thrilling as the power he yielded, new, shining power in coils of copper, in electric light bulbs, internal combustion engines, railway tracks and machines. If he could bend the minds of others to his will, the machinery of steam and steel could bend the very Earth to his will.

The lift came into a stop and he opened the doors, a seemingly banal task for someone of his standing ,but having someone to stand by the lift all day was a waste of manpower needed for other tasks. He walked through the mirror gallery that took him from the rear of the house, past the great ballroom and the ladies' drawing room that no longer had no use for him whatsoever, remaining shuttered and with its furniture covered in white sheets, and then entered through the lacquered door into the morning room.

"Milord."

The bear bowed courteously, splendid in his black uniform and tie. Stuart, his manservant otter, and Sidney, one of the fox houseboys who often helped in the kitchen, stood near the service table in their customary uniform of leather and little else, though due to their current duty, they had the allowance of white aprons covering their fronts , though not without bulges in them where their taut sheaths pressed onto the cloth. The two young furs simply bowed and did not speak up, unlike the butler.

"I have unfortunate news," the stallion spoke to his thralls, "it seems that your brother has not yet become fully accustomed to our home."

"I am very sorry to hear that," the bear spoke in his measured rumble, "but I am sure that will be corrected, Milord."

"Oh, I have no doubt," the horse brushed the thought away while he looked at the well-appointed breakfast table, "it is being seen to."

"Can we be of assistance?" the bear asked.

"Your brothers can handle it," the stallion replied. "You need not concern yourselves with it."

"Yes, sir," the bear said.

The Master breathed deeply, and let his hands fall onto the simple belt holding up his garments.

"Could you please put the chair to the side, Edward?"

"Yes, sir, right away."

The bear picked up the stallion's heavy chair from the end of the table, capable of seating 10 furs, but only set for one at the moment, and then placed the chair aside and regarded his particular employer.

"Is there anything else, Milord?"

"Drop your pants and bend over the table, I will fuck your arse, Edward", the horse spoke while he was already drawing open his belt.

"As you wish, Milord," the bear said.

The butler spent considerably more time opening his own belts and buttons before he placed himself onto the end of the table, paws spread wide and rump pushed backwards, his ample posterior fully bare and at his Master's use.

"Sidney, bring me the special oil," the horse spoke while he fondled the bear's ass.

The young fox performed his task without a word. He simply opened a cabinet beneath the serving table and procured a spare bottle of the horse's patent special lubricant perfect for sticking cocks into arses.

"Thank you, Sidney."

The Master oiled his hard, blunt cock and simply thrust the massive tip against the bear's hole. He could feel it slick and smooth, as all of his servants were whenever the horse was awake, so that they would be available at his whim. Now he pushed unceremoniously into the bear butler's ass, the bear huffing and clinging onto the dinner table with his large paws, his clothing rumpled and with his trousers down along his ankles.

"Your arse is splendid, Edward," the horse huffed dirtily when he had sunk almost all of himself into the bear's rump.

"T-thank you, Milord," the bear grunted.

The horse began to fuck his servant, huge balls bouncing against the bear's taint while he was pummeled from behind. The otter and the fox watched, with expressions that told very little. The stallion grunted and huffed, his hips flying and back and forth when he pumped into the bear's slick rear.

"Take off your aprons," the horse ordered.

The fox and the otter complied, and then stood there again, plump erections bobbing while their Master made the table shake and causing the crockery and silverware to rattle over his polished surface.

"Finger each other's arses," the stallion commanded, while he pounded the bear's ass.

"Yes, sir!"

"Yes, Milord!"

The pair turned so that their rumps faced the room, rather than them, tails rising to reveal the alluring curves of two butts, an otter and a fox rear on a great, pleasing display for their Master. Their paws reached over behind them and moved across hips to the butt of the fur next to them, giving the horse quite the show even if he was mostly concerned with the pleasurable feeling of his own cock sliding through the tight grip of the bear butler's ass.

His other servants fondled each other's rumps before the index fingers found the muscled buttons in their cracks and began to make way into their depths with a carefully trained wriggling action that sunk flesh into flesh.

"Good boys," the horse grunted, sweat matting his forehead already.

He fucked the bear until his balls gave up and he loaded the butler's asshole with cum, in thick, slick spurts that kept him pumping until he had had enough...for now. The Master stepped back and stared at the bear's messy ass crack, with the pink hole gawking after being stretched by the girth of the horse's cock. Cum glistened against the fleshy opening, and some drooled out, the bear still heavy and panting after the exertion of taking such a pounding.

"Bring me my chair, Sidney, and Stuart, you come and polish my knob while I have some breakfast. Edward, pull your pants up."

"Yes, sir!"

The day was just about to begin.

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