Descent Into Dishonor [Commission]
_An anonymous commission and one that's a bit darker then my usual stuff, so check the tags before proceeding. _
Defeat!
Asiyah was struggling with the thought even as she struggled against the net tangling her, and with as much success. Not that there was any point - two of the enemy were even now standing over her, one of them apparently finding it necessary to remind her of the fact with a kick to her ribs. She winced at the pain, but it was welcome compared to the anguish and shame she felt.
Nets! Of all the outrages!
The warrior-priestesses had known defeat before and feared neither injury nor death in battle. The Hatari in general were a proudly militant people, and this sisterhood was no exception. The felines of the fortress monastery worshiped Ishtra, the progenitor goddess of their people, in her mother/huntress aspect, their lives spent training to build up their strength and ensuring that such strength lived on in their descendants.
The temple now open to the invaders was on the border, and it had been the sacred duty of the sisterhood to be the first line of defense. Now they were quite possibly the first casualty in a war, but one unlike any they had ever seen.
Once they were reasonably certain she was subdued, the canine soldiers standing above Asiyah untangled the net with practiced ease, hauling the wincing feline to her feet. The Hatar's wounds were few and mostly superficial cuts, but a pain in her chest told her some of her ribs were cracked, if not broken.
Her captors didn't seem to care much, two Kos tugging her arms back as a third bound her wrists to each and tied one end of the line taught around the base of her tail. While a number of her sisters lay dead on the ground, she saw many (too many!) in same straits as her. Her mind still struggled to understand what the canines were doing, and why.
Their defeats throughout the history of their order had been very few, and all followed the same pattern. They fought nearly to the last woman, but if victory was out of reach, the last survivors would yield, so that the sisterhood itself could endure. They were known for their honor and commanders would accept such a surrender, confining the surviving females to their monastery which would be surrounded but otherwise unviolated, as a sign of respect.
But those were wars, declared formally and fought according to codes of honor written and implied. The wars they'd fought with their neighbors before circumstances had forced the once proud nations to sue for peace and become vassals of the growing Kosith Empire. An empire that didn't seem willing to stop at the Hatari border. But war had not been declared, and Asiyah had a dread feeling that this was not war.
They had crept up to them in the night, moving with enviable stealth through the dry lands surrounding the monastery. The Evening Guard had failed, and Asiyah couldn't help but imagine the iron discipline needed to take such a host so close to them in near silence. Once they had noticed them there was no time to plan, the only option being to file out and meet them head on in attempt to halt their advance further into Hatari lands. As she was pushed ahead of the canines, herded like many of the other survivors, the once proud feline wondered if that had even been the Kosith's goal.
They fought in the silvery light of pre-dawn, and by the time the sun had crested the mountain range to the East, the battle was over. And while many of her sisters had found an honorable death in battle, there must have been at least three Kos bodies for every Hatar lying still on the parched earth. The anger she felt in her captors demeanor told her it was more than they expected to pay. But what could they have hoped for? In truth, their host had been large enough to overwhelm the sisterhood by numbers and surprise, if they had fought as one fights a foe in battle. The opening volleys of arrow fire had been as expected, but after the initial charge the ranks of shielded spearmen parted to admit a swarm of canines armed with heavy nets, staves and clubs.
The sisterhood had never fought a foe that wanted to capture them. They were known for their fighting prowess and most commanders considered it hard enough to kill them. What could they hope to gain from this? she thought, her mind still rejecting the answers bubbling up from beneath her surface thoughts. They wouldn't dare! The felines were holy women, priestess-warriors and regardless of faith every army facing them had respected that. To kill them was one thing - it was the nature of war - but to... it would be blasphemy!
*******
As they were led into their monastery, the Hatar walked with heads held high, holding fiercely onto their dignity despite the injuries they bore or the outrage they felt at the sight of invaders wandering and casually defacing the sacred halls. The canines showed neither reverence nor respect for the ancient halls, tearing down the sisterhood's banners and ripping them into strips whish they tied around spearheads or wrists - trophies of their conquest.
Few among the surviving Hatari spoke their tongue, but their language shared a distant root with that of the Kosith, and occasional word could be understood. The meaning of their speech was all too clear - avarice, wonder at just how rich the monastery actually was, the greed glinting in their eyes as they scanned the tapestried halls, and the column of prisoners they were leading.
A group of flanking Kos soldiers splintered off, dragging a wounded Hatar prisoner as they disappeared into a side passage or chamber. Most of the remaining soldiers muttered in dissatisfaction at their compatriots' breach of discipline, while others wore hungry looking grins, talking amongst themselves as they eyed the remaining prisoners.
While they mostly couldn't understand their captors, after the first pained shriek echoed though the stony hallway from behind them the surviving felines needed no translation. Some of the younger sisters looked shocked, a wave of cold terror washing away the despair they'd felt until now. Other sisters clenched their jaws, but the hair standing out on the backs of their necks betrayed their shock and outrage.
Some of them knew about the Kosith - the glittering empire built upon the backs of slaves. That would explain the nets, the price they paid to take so many of them alive. But as another pained cry echoed from behind them, the Hatari suspected it wasn't labor that the Kosith wanted from them. Their intent was clear now that they were openly leering at the column of bound felines, eyes tracing the contours of their firm, curved bodies.
One of the sisters suddenly rushed a Kos soldier, leaping at him with her snarling jaws wide open, her hands still securely restrained behind her back. When pushed to it, the Hatari could and did kill with their teeth, but the others suspected that wasn't their sister's intent. The leaping feline had hoped for a noble death, but the soldiers surrounding them carried only bludgeoning weapons. Before she could find her victims throat, a staff struck her across her back, knocking the wind out of her and giving two nearby soldiers time enough to drag her up and away from their companion. The Hatar still tried to struggle as she was led away from the column and down a side passage by several muscular Kos, the comments from their leering kin leaving little doubt as to the felines fate even before her anguished cry rang out just as those of their other sister were dying down...
*******
Pari did her best to keep her chin up and her eyes dry, putting on a brave front even though all she felt inside was despair and terror. Part of her longed for her mother, for the family she'd left behind when she accepted the call to serve here and the safe and carefree life she'd given up on with visions of joining the warrior-priestesses floating through her mind. She knew such thoughts were beneath her - she was with her sisters and would share their fate, no matter how dark.
She looked down at the remains of her garments of investiture, ones she'd been so proud to be awarded once she'd shed the dark-blue robe of an aspirant and became excepted as a proper novice. She remembered her hands shaking as she stood naked in front of the assembly with a few other girls her age, all of them looking fiercely proud as they accepted the burgundy bundles with a bow.
The young Hatar glanced briefly at herself and the sight of the tatters clinging to her almost made her sob. The four-slitted skirt was now a loose collection of tattered fronds, and many of those had been torn by leering Kos as some sort of memento, while the cloth that had been wrapped around her chest was gone entirely, baring a pair of firm maidenly breasts to the world.
She resisted the urge to cover herself up, something the sisters never did among each other. Hatari bodies were a thing of beauty and the women of the temple displayed them proudly, but the eyes of the canines surrounding them in the great assembly hall seemed to crawl over her skin and Pari desperately wanted to hide as much of her tawny form from them as possible.
Still, she forced herself to stand straight, shoulders square and her budding chest thrust out, as proud as the older sisters around her. Many have also had their garments torn either in battle or after it as the Kosith ripped them of the feline's bodies, leering at the fur this exposed. Still, there were flashes of crimson, bright orange, a scrap of yellow the color of ripe lemons, all the colors of dawn and then...
Raziya, the temple-mother herself was led out on to the same raised dais she had so often addressed them from, her own tattered garments covered in so mush half-dried blood that the true color was barely discernable. White, the color of the killing Sun, awarded to the most senior sisters as a mark of their lethality. The material was gossamer thin linen, another point of pride since it would offer no protection in combat. The younger sisters would often don bits of hardened leather, either bracers or a brassiere as additional protection, but the elder sisters trusted in reflex and muscle to protect them.
Pari drew some strength from the fierce old Hatar standing proud despite her wounds and looking at the assembled canines with contempt rather than fear. She looked as if she was deciding if it was worth her time and effort to slay the Kosith, rather than as a prisoner, and Pari allowed herself some slim hope that the mistress of this place had some hidden strength, some plan that would turn the tide in their favor.
The tearing sound seemed to rip that hope from her as surely as the blood-soaked garments were ripped from the proud Hatar, exposing the naked form of a peerless killer. There were hateful mutterings from the soldiers surrounding them, and with grim satisfaction Pari wondered how many the temple-mother had slain before being captured.
A rope was thrown over a beam high above them, a burly Kos tying one end to the Raziya's shackles before pulling it up until the feline's arms were stretched out above her. An older canine stepped up, his sculpted cuirass marking him as an officer among the Kosith, and addressed them in his native tongue, slowly enough for a nearby aide to translate his speech into Hatari. He announced coldly that they would be left alive, but that their former lives were to be forgotten. They were spoils of war, and were expected to obey or suffer further pain and humiliation. He made it clear that no amount of dissent would earn them death.
Pari knew that had been the last hope of many of the sisters - forcing their captors to kill them. Their faith forbade suicide but those falling in battle were rewarded for their sacrifice. The young Hatar felt a sudden pang of envy for her fallen sisters, now safe at their Goddess' side while who knew what fresh horrors awaited the survivors.
His speech finished, the chief Kos took his riding crop in hand and approached Raziya. In a lighting fast strike he brought the hardened leather down across the feline's bare back, but the crack of the crop on fur-covered hide was the only sound ringing out through the room. Despite her wounds, the old Hatar had not so much as winced.
The canine continued to whip his captive, and Pari could see bitter smiles curving the lips of a few of her elder sisters. The canines didn't know that even novices began their practice sessions with flagellation, albeit with thin green branches. The more senior sisters used lengths of heavy knotted rope, and those wearing white such as the temple-mother...
Like many of the novices, Pari had watched in amazement when Mother Raziya would walk out on to the practice floor. The proud feline would strip down and put her hands on the back of her head as an aide helped her with her flagellations, striking the Hatar with a sturdy reed cane. Age had robed the senior sister's body of much of its softness so that even her fur failed to hide the fine, steely musculature that a lifetime devoted to the fighting arts had earned her. The only soft part of her were her breasts, and even they betrayed the hard plate-like muscles beneath them.
The aide would deliver strong blows across the old Hatar's back, thighs, stomach and chest and the most Raziya would ever do was grunt as if she were merely stretching, preparing her body for a grueling sparing session. She remembered looking with awe one day when a crack rang out in the practice yard as the sturdy cane split on impact, the temple-mother's body remaining unharmed, as always.
The Kos seemed to realize his arm was suffering more than his captive, a sour look crossing his muzzle as he fastened the crop to his belt and called out to a nearby guard. The canine passed him a long thrusting spear and both hope and dread glimmered in the eyes of the assembled Hatari as they thought he intended to execute the bound feline.
Those hopes were dashed as he turned the spear around, griping the heavy oak shaft before bringing it down across the temple-mother's chest. The Hatar winced noticeably, but seemed unharmed, her whip-cord muscles absorbing a blow that would have otherwise broken ribs. The Kos officer looked pleased with this and began raining blows on her front and back, the stout wooden haft causing enough pain that even the seasoned feline couldn't ignore. But despite the punishing blows the veteran Hatar didn't cry out, keeping her jaw clenched except for the occasional snarl.
When the Kos officer returned the spear they thought the humiliating display over, but the canine merely stepped behind the bound priestess, her naked body concealing most of him. Pari wasn't sure what was happening until she saw a flash of red between the temple-mother's legs. Her feet were shackled, strangely enough by a bar instead of a length of chain, but the young Hatar had assumed it was merely done to hobble the dangerous feline. As the snarling temple mother tried desperately to close her legs, the girl suspected the purpose of the bar was to keep her from doing just that.
The sound of her heart beating in her ears suddenly drowned out everything else, and Pari found tears blurring her vision despite the fact she was staring in wide-eyed shock. She'd faced the enemy in battle with the courage expected of a sister, even a novice, but as the unseen canine maneuvered the tip of what could only be his member, Pari found herself in the grip of sheer terror. This couldn't happen. Perhaps the canines only meant to scare Raziya, or perhaps Ishtra herself would intervene to stop this, or...
The last futile, childish hope was flushed from Pari's mind as the angry red length was driven up in one savage thrust, plunging into the bound Hatar until only a swollen crimson bulge remained. The temple-mother had kept her teeth clenched, but there was no mistaking her cry of pain and anguish even muffled as it was. The warrior-priestess had kept her head held high during her beating but she hung it now, finally looking defeated.
Pari lowered her face to the tiles below her and flicked her ears against her head in an effort to block out what was happening. But even though she no longer saw the temple-mother's rape, the sounds she heard despite her folded ears were telling and terrible - the muffled grunts and yowls, the panting of the canine and the increasingly wet noises his cock made as it pumped away between the feline's bound legs.
She heard the sounds of footsteps and only realized someone was behind her when she felt somebody grip her hair and roughly yank her head up. The Kos behind her said something she couldn't understand, but just the tone of the male made her shudder. The sisters around her were watching, their faces masks of disbelief and dread. In the entire history of their order, no enemy had ever dared such disrespect.
The Kos pumping away behind the bound feline was picking up his pace, holding one hand on the curve of the bound Hatar's hip while the other slid up the fine muscles covering her belly until the paw reached one firm breast. Pari swallowed despite a dry throat when the clawed fingers dug into the creamy-furred mound hard enough to make the once-proud feline hiss in pain.
The girl almost jumped when she felt a paw on her own body, first petting and then grasping one of her cheeks through what little fabric covered it. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes narrowed to needle-like slits, losing sight of the scene in front of her as she imagined she was about to suffer the same fate.
She considered trying to squirm and fight but the male still had a grip on her hair, not to mention her rump. He continued to speak into her ear in low, growly tones, the leering quality of his voice getting his meaning across despite the language barrier. The paw that had been groping her behind moved then, following the outline of her still slender hips until the clawed paw was on her lower belly and sliding further down, Pari's muscles trembling under the touch as the finger-pads gilded down to where her fur got finer and downier until they reached a spot that was pink and smooth.
The young feline clenched her thighs together as tightly as she could but the canine's clawed finger still wormed its way to the cleft between them, stroking for a moment between her silky lips before plunging between them. She let out a sharp cry and heard a soldier from the sides bark something out. With obvious reluctance the canine behind her withdrew his finger and stepped away from her.
Despite the relief she felt she suspected she shouldn't be grateful to the Kos who'd called the male away. For all she knew he viewed her as his possession and resented the other canine's presumptions. And as horrible as the sight of the temple-mother being taken against her will was, Pari forced herself to keep looking at it so the groping male would have no cause to come back and make her.
*******
The gathered felines remained standing throughout the ordeal, forced to watch the strongest among them subjected to a degradation none of them had imagined possible, the mumbled, leering comments from the soldiers surrounding them failing to mask the violently wet sounds of the rutting Kos. The could see little of the male apart from his groping paws, and the swollen red length pistoning between the temple-mother's legs, a thick red ball at the base of the crimson shaft slamming painfully against the one-proud Hatar's folds.
Even those among the sisters who had lain with a male were unfamiliar with canine anatomy, and none of them believed the monstrous lump of flesh was ever meant to enter a female. The high-ranking canine seemed determined to prove otherwise, and after a series of brutal thrusts which had Raziya standing on the tips of her toes, the knot bulged the feline's bruised lips lewdly before sinking in.
The muzzles of the gathered sisters opened in shock and despair as the temple-mother's finally opened in a howl of pain, the Kos raping her seeming to savor the sign of defeat as much as her tight sex wrapped around his monstrous member. The sounds of the male climaxing were obvious even to the virgin Hatari, and the assembled felines at least hoped that this would be the end of their superior's ordeal. The canine remained buried within her sex, hands roughly groping her breasts as he continued to hump, the twitch of his pouch visible to the first row of feline's who watched with disgust as the things pumped the temple-mother with canine seed.
Another Kos, wearing slightly less ornate armor stepped out and barked a command. Moving in a coordinated manner that spoke of constant drills, a handful of soldier's stepped forward and separated a line of felines closest to the door to the left of the chamber. The Hatari had formed a rectangle, standing at arm's length away from one another like they usually did during such an assembly, albeit not in the usual order of the least senior sisters standing closest to the dais.
The ten or so felines were separated from their sisters and told by a Kos that spoke oddly accented Hatari to proceed to the door he was pointing at. Heads bowed and ears folded they did so, sparing their fallen leader one last glance. The violated priestess was stifling whimpers, and even though the fur around her eyes was damp with the few tears of pain she'd shed, not a drop of the Kos seed seemed to be escaping her slightly bulging sex.
The Kosith waiting for them in the side-chamber seemed to wear only token armor and no weapons apart from knives sheathed at their hips. Carts full of various equipment were all over the place and the small room almost stank with the smell of raw cast-iron hastily scrubbed of either rust or blood.
The one canine that spoke Hatari barked out orders to his captives, instructing the first Hatar in line to step up. Once she did, two Kosith fastened an iron collar around her throat, the feline wincing noticeably as the key locked the heavy thing securely around her neck. The iron band had four horizontal rings on all sides, the purpose of which would become apparent soon enough. The Kos checked if it was secure before turning the collared feline to her left and giving her a sharp smack on her rear to get her to move along. The collared Hatar snarled and instinctively tensed for combat, but the burly Kos with heavy looking staves lining the walls told her violence would be useless.
She proceeded to the next pair of canines, even as the sister behind her was told to step up for her collar, the line moving forward as the Kosith robbed the felines of their last shreds of dignity with the ease that spoke of routine. Of the next two canines one was muscled and armed with a staff with a blunt hook on one end. The other seemed slimmer with a keen eye that appraised the Hatar the way a cook would browse the day's catch at a fishmonger's stall.
He simply told her 'bend', and the feline in front of him suspected this one knew few other words in Hatari. Not sure what was expected of her, the Hatar reluctantly bowed before the pair, but the smaller of the two Kos merely sucked at his teeth and gestured to the larger. In the blink of an eye, the burly Kos had snagged his hook on the front ring of the bound Hatar's collar, pushing down until the startled female's head was between her knees.
The feline shut her eyes in shame as she felt a strong hand grip the base of her tail and then yank it up, exposing her entirely to the canine's gaze. The Kos didn't seem to think her sufficiently exposed, using two finger's to stretch her lips open wide enough to examine the soft pink flesh of her sex. The Hatar was sure she was about to meet the same fate as the temple-mother but was surprised when the canine simply lowered her tail and she was pulled up by the same hooked staff that had pushed her head down.
She was nudged forward towards another pair, both wearing no armor, their torsos covered instead by heavy leather aprons stained with fresh blood. One Kos was young and clearly the assistant of his grey-muzzled senior who stood next to a tray with pieces of cloth, jars of astringent salves and an array of small, gleaming blades. The young canine held a pair of shears and quickly went to work cutting away and removing the last remnants of the Hatar's saffron-orange garments, the feline wincing as fabric that had covered a few of her cuts was yanked away, leaving the wounds to bleed anew.
The old Kos moved quickly dabbing a piece of cloth in a pot and spreading a burning salve along the cuts crisscrossing the feline's fur. A few of the deeper ones were bandaged, and as the old canine checked her for any broken or cracked bones, she heard a loud click to the side, the sound of another collar being fastened and another Hatari fate sealed.
Naked and bandaged, the feline was led out by an armed guard while the second sister, one notably younger, was forcibly bent over. The smaller of the two canines spread her open and went as far as to insert the tip of one finger inside the terrified girl. He seemed more pleased with this one, picking up a small tangle of metal and leather from a nearby pile.
The iron was cold, especially since it was pressing against the few parts of the feline's body that were covered with little to no fur. The piece of metal was curved to roughly follow the contours of a female's crotch, and the Kos worked quickly to adjust the straps until the narrow slitted part was securely covering the feline's sex, while a larger ring was nestled between her furry cheeks. Once he was done, a padlock had been closed shut just above the girl's mound and she was ushered to the doctor, the chastity belt ensuring that her virginity would remain intact for the time being, even though she still couldn't understand it.
She was also stripped and her wounds tended before she was pushed out into the large corridor that lead out to the monastery's yard. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the feline that had gone before her struggling to little avail. Two Kosith soldiers held her arms pinned against the wall while the one behind her kept her face pressed against the stone even as the other hand gripped the base of her long, ropey tail. The girl first thought that the guard might just be yanking on it to cause the snarls coming from the elder sister, but once she spotted the red length being pumped between the Hatar's legs, she knew it wasn't the case.
Her heart seemed stuck in her throat as she awaited the same fate, but she was led quickly past the line of soldiers. The Kosith males leered openly at her and shouted an occasional comment that she knew was cruel and demeaning despite the fact she couldn't comprehend their speech. She saw men pushing empty carts towards the east wing, the part of the monastery where the sisters were quartered and her keen ears picked up the sounds of the canine's ransacking the rooms, obviously looting the females' personal possessions.
She shed a tear as she imagined the cozy room she shared with two other novices being looted and their personal items being thrown on to a cart or destroyed if the canines saw no value in it. The sounds seemed deafening until a fresh one cut through them cleanly - the pained yowl of the sister being raped behind her, followed by the triumphant howl of the Kos that must have just shoved that grotesque knot into the defeated feline's body.
*******
Asiyah snarled, her claws sliding out and scratching the stone her palms were pressed against as the canine behind her tried to tug his knot out while the revolting ball of flesh was still swollen within her. The forced mating was an equal mix of pain and humiliation, the canine sheathing himself between her legs without so much as bothering to give her a few licks, a courtesy she noted a few of the Kos had extended their prey.
The mating was savage, the male mounting her obviously caring for nothing but releasing his own pent up lusts and enjoying his captive's shame and her futile attempts to wriggle free. But the Kos had one hand buried in her mane and another pinching one of her nipples, and he would yank them both if he thought she was about to escape. Not that Asiyah was in any shape to. A cut down one shapely thigh was deep enough that the surgeon saw it necessary to sew it up, and it was all the Hatar could do to keep her weight on the other leg to prevent the stiches from tearing. And the breaths she was taking as her rapist pummeled away at her rear were pained and shallow, the ribs on her right cracked and bandaged, the tightly wound length of fabric covering one ripe breast and looking like a parody of modesty.
The almost feral coupling was a mockery of true mating - the tender moments spent with a loving male, treasured memories for the Hatar who'd borne two children. Both of them boys, something she'd regretted a little at the time but something she was grateful to Ishtra for now. Daughters might have shared her fate...
The sisters did not mate for life, their vows to their monastery and their Goddess coming before any other allegiance of affection. But Ishtra was the mother-huntress, and many sisters saw bearing children as an important part of their devotions. Men were not permitted to stay at the monastery, so a Hatar in heat would venture to one of the nearby towns where she would be a guest of the little local temple while they interviewed potential mates. And when their heat had passed, they would return to the monastery where the child would be born.
It seemed like in another life that Asiyah had held a mewling little ball of fur to her breast, the rigors of childbirth seeming to drain away along with her milk as the still blind cub began to nurse. Her time spent with her sons was very short, and all the more precious for it. Theirs was a militant order, and as such no place for a child of any kind. Once the cubs had been weaned, they were adopted by one of the families from the local communities.
Hatari were always immensely proud to be chosen as foster-parents of a child from one of the monasteries, but none were more grateful than those whom Ishtra hadn't blessed with a child of their own. In time, a daughter might return to such a monastery as a supplicant of the order, but their true origins were a closely guarded secret to ensure there was no favoritism. Only the highest ranking among them was Mother, and the rest were sisters.
The temple had a little under a dozen young Hatari, girls who were just blossoming into womanhood but with bodies already showing the fine musculature of a warrior-priestess, a result of days spent in rigorous training. The novices had joined them in the battle, but were kept in the back ranks to expose them to as little danger as possible.
As she endured the pain and humiliation of a rutting Kos trying to pull his disgusting knot from her abused sex, Asiyah wondered if the tradition of keeping the young as a rear-guard had been a wise one. Had they fought alongside the more seasoned females many of them would have earned an honorable death in battle, something the snarling Hatar suspected they would wish for in the times to come.
She heard another voice just behind her, a soldier addressing her rapist in their native tongue. She recognized words for 'hurry' and 'waiting' a few seconds before she felt rough, calloused finger-pads on the bulging lips of her sex. She bared her teeth and hissed in pain when the other Kos began to forcefully spread her folds wide enough to literally dig his friend's member out of her, a malformed shaft that a Hatar was never meant to take.
Pain was part of a sister's training, but the humiliation was what hurt Asiyah the most. And as much as the bulbous knot slowly leaving her sex burned, it didn't match the shame the once proud warrior felt. She could hear the Kos behind her, admiring the sight of her lips forming an 'O' around the red ball of flesh as she did her best to push out with her muscles and try to eject the revolting invader. And once the grotesque gland was out she folded her ears, even though she knew it wouldn't help.
The canine's still erect cock was pulled from her, the relief of having the vile organ taken out spoiled by the sound of the male's seed splashing on to the stone floor as it practically gushed out of her. The Kos seemed to pump quite a lot during their long climaxes, and this one was not the first to mount the panting Hatar. She was well aware of the pearly puddle now spreading between her legs, and the mess that was soaking into the fur covering her inner thighs.
As she waited for the next Kos to take his comrade's place Asiyah made the mistake of allowing her ears to focus on the sounds ringing out through the long corridor. Most of her sisters shared her fate - some were held against the wall, some forced to bend over or to stand on their hands and knees, but every Hatar that wasn't fitted with those devices they'd used on the youngest ones was forced to submit to these blasphemous breedings, their sole consolation the knowledge that a canine's seed wouldn't take.
Over the gloating, panting and growling of their captors she could hear the feline sounds - hissing, snarling, and an occasional yowl of pain that usually signified a red knot being forced into a struggling Hatar. But apart from those noises the sisters remained silent. Not one of them wailed or begged for mercy, something that Asiyah took pride in despite the fact that her tail was even now being lifted roughly as the Kos behind her prepared to penetrate.
The male behind her seemed to hesitate and mutter something that the defeated feline couldn't understand. Asiyah almost growled in frustration as the Kos gripping her tail poked his fingers into the mess his friends had made between her toned legs. It was when those slimy fingers touched against the orifice just under her tail that the Hatar's eyes flew wide in shock, a surge of adrenaline washing over her as she realized his intentions.
Although she knew there was no escape, not even the chance of death in combat, the feline began to thrash and struggle at this latest indignity. How could this degenerate even think of such a thing? The canine behind her seemed determined to proceed, but less confident of his ability to both mount and subdue the now thrashing Hatar.
But one call from him was enough to bring two more soldiers, and a moment later Asiyah found her forearms and head firmly pinned against the hard, cold stone of the wall, the Kos behind her griping her tail with one hand while he held one of her legs up with the other. As she felt the tapered tip press against her pucker Asiyah closed her eyes shut and folded her ears, the mocking of the soldiers restraining her mercifully drowned out by the howl of pain that left her throat once her last shred of dignity was forcibly taken from her.
*******
The Hatar standing in the monastery's chapel remained silent, although the tears streaming from her eyes told of her anguish. She wept silently even though she'd never shed a tear in this blessed place, not even during a funeral ceremony for one of her sisters. The final time a Hatar was among her gathered sisters was considered a solemn but ultimately joyous moment, for the devout feline would ascend to join their Goddess, a just reward for a lifetime of devotion. Weeping at such a moment was considered profoundly selfish, allowing one's own feeling of loss to cast a shadow on a time when the departed was considered to still be among them, saying her goodbyes as she prepared to leave this world. Any tears were shed in private, for a late sister's final memory should be one of smiling faces and kind words.
The Hatar was an Acolyte here and the chapel's services had always filled her with equal parts of awe and joy. She tried to find those feelingsnow, but failed as the sounds of the Kosith's looting echoed in the hallowed shrine. They were doing what no triumphant foe had ever done, methodically removing anything they thought might be of any value and piling it high on carts that once full were quickly pushed away and replaced by empty ones.
The walls were already showing discolored spots where the tokens of submission were removed from their resting places. After every victory, the Hatari were presented with a symbolic item from the surrendering commander, and these had been displayed proudly in the chapel so that Ishtra could see her children's triumphs. The tokens had varied through the ages - some were faded banners, some the personal weapon of the commander. Other times the token would be a shield or a gauntlet or even a thick braid of hair.
The altar was a solid block of marble and too heavy to move but the greedy canines had pried the golden scrollwork off crudely, tossing the mangled metal on to a cart as if it was merely valuable scrap. Most of it had been carted away, and a slim, bookish-looking Kos was even now directing his countrymen as they secured ropes around their final prize.
The statue of Ishtra was a masterpiece, one that legend said stood under the open sky before the monastery was built around it. If the white marble carving had ever been exposed to the elements, there remained no signs to show it. The grieving Hatar looked up at the glorious work of art, remembering the times she'd spent with her sisters polishing the curves and contours of what was considered the perfection of Hatari form.
The Goddess stood bare and proud, benevolent but poised for a fight, delicate muscles gracing her slender limbs while the curves of her body spoke of a deep vitality, most notably that of her belly. The unknown artist had carved the statue depicting Ishtra in an early stage of her first pregnancy. The teachings told that the Goddess had first mated with the spirit of the earth that her litter might be strong, and bore six sons. She then mated with the spirit of the wind and sky, that her children might have grace, and bore six daughters. And from the coupling of those twelve came the Hatari, possessing the strength and grace Ishtra had hoped to imbue them with.
Mother forgive us!
She prayed silently even as she watched the Kos rig a series of pulleys and strange devices, the one directing them barking corrections as he scribbled away at a small pad, working out how to move the statue that stood twice as tall as a grown Hatar. He was cagey enough to realize that the carving was no doubt the most valuable relic in the temple, and the grieving feline tried to take some comfort in the fact that it would at least survive.
But that slim hope was dampened with the knowledge that the image would never again be revered. It would be the prize decoration in some rich noble's home, something for his friends to admire and envy. Never again would sweet incense coil around the milky-white form, never would wildflowers be piled at her feet as a newly mated sister begged the Goddess for a child. Nor would a purring infant be raised up to the image of the Goddess, that Ishtra might bless the infant and rejoice at the sight of another cub born to her children.
The Hatar knew she would soon be led away to meet the fate of her sisters. She hadn't witnessed the degradation of her kin but she spoke enough Kosith to understand the complaints of the laboring canines that the by the time their work was done the captive felines would be 'spent'. The moment the Kosith had realized she knew their tongue she was dragged away to a small chamber, along with a novice.
A hard-eyed canine had begun asking questions, demanding to know where the monastery's valuables were hidden. The Hatar refused to reply, but the Kos had seen the amount of pain the temple-mother was able to withstand with barely making a sound, let alone pleading for it to stop. He'd known there was nothing that he could do to this feline in the amount of time he had that could make her talk and not ruin her own value as plunder.
The broken Hatar remembered shivering as the canine instead moved to the panicked novice, not bothering with a question before he pinched the nipples on the girls budding chest with enough force to make her cry out. That was not enough to make either female speak, nor did they do so once the Kos did the same thing to the sensitive nub of flesh just above the girl's sex.
Still leering at the young Hatar while glancing at the old one he took his sheathed knife and shoved the handle under the girl's tail, making the young female cry out at the brutal penetration. The older Hatar's claws came out at the sound but she merely clenched her jaw and remained silent. It was only when the canine unsheathed the knife, pressing the sharp point to the girl's pucker and threatening to do the same thing with the naked blade that she broke down.
The statue was eventually lowered onto a sturdy cart, resting on a pile of blankets and torn curtains as the Kosith carted it away. The remaining few were now eying the Hatar as the only thing left of value in the looted shrine. She expected to be led away to the main hallway where her ears told her the other sisters were meeting their sad fate, but her head rose when she heard one of the canines suggest they do it here.
She had been resigned to the violations her body was about to suffer, but a fresh panic griped the feline and she thrashed like mad in the grips of two large Kosith. Physical abuse she was sure she could live through, but tears blurred her vision as she was hauled up to the dais and with little ceremony hoisted on to the now bare block of marble that was the chapel's altar. She was pushed onto her back, her firm breasts flattening across her chest as her bottom hung past the edge and at just the perfect height for the grinning male to penetrate her. And with one Kos holding her arms above her head and two more spreading her legs as far apart as they would go that was exactly what he did, violating the weeping Hatar body and soul.
*******
It was only after the bred and beaten females were led into the monastery's courtyard that they realized the force they'd met in battle was merely the vanguard. Horses and carts filled the wide open space, some of them filled with provisions for the Kosith and their prisoners, some piled high with coils of thick rope and various shackles, while others were cages on wheels.
The Hatari were thoroughly broken and after the brutal way in which they were used put up only a token resistance as they were bound quickly and efficiently by their captors. A few Kosith moved through the crowd as the females were bound in coffles, the front and back rings on their collars bound to each other with lengths of either hemp rope or iron chains, depending on what the canines overseeing the work ordered.
The Kosith moved among them, taking down the numbers stamped into the metal collars as those with blood-stained aprons examined the felines once again, to assess the damage after their rape. Some of the Hatari had to have their bandages changed as the violent rutting had opened up barely-closed wounds, and those the surgeons judged as being worst off were put into the cages, as well as a few of the more senior and therefore dangerous sisters, including the temple-mother.
They were ordered to form into ranks even as a number of Kosith dragged the bodies of the fallen into the temple. The fallen canines were treated with some dignity, wrapped in shrouds and carried in solemn silence, while the males dragged the bodies of the Hatari by their arms and legs, jokingly lamenting the loss of feminine flesh, rather than lives. The last things to be carried in were cartloads of the dry shrubs cut from nearby and casks of tar. As the column began to move out the Hatari tried not to look back, dreading the sight of smoke billowing out from the windows of their home before the once proud temple was engulfed in flames...
*******
As the warm sludge was spooned into her cupped hands Asiyah quickly brought the greyish mess to her muzzle and gulped it down. The meal was the same as every day - grain cooked in some sort of greasy broth until the whole mess was a thick porridge, but it was filling enough. And their captors were so miserly with it that the felines ate every morsel just to ward off starvation.
The sludge might have had some smell, but the Hatari could no longer smell anything but canines. Some of them had thought that they would be spared the touch of the males while they marched through the dry lands, but they were mistaken. The Kosith apparently had just enough energy after a day of marching to spend on, or more commonly in their captives, and as a consequence all the felines smelled so strongly of canine rut that they doubted they would ever be clean.
And cleanliness was another issue. Or rather water was. The Kosith had demonstrated an excellent grasp of logistics, but seemed to have underestimated just how much water the trip would require. Their climate was very hot, but not nearly as arid as the Hatari lands, or those of the conquered Rokar they marched through now. The felines bore the heat stoically, but could see the canines panting as they marched, wasting their bodies' moisture with every breath.
As such water was strictly rationed, and mutterings could be heard among the canines about the 'thirsty pussies sucking them dry' despite the fact that a Hatari water ration was only two thirds of what the Kosith got. It was the reason some of the canines had started what was now a habit of 'nursing' the felines.
A strange ring would be shoved part a Hatar's lips and fastened with a belt behind her head, leaving her mouth wide open and with the female unable to close it. The Kosith would then pump their cocks in and out of the captive female's muzzle until they released their seed down her throat, laughing if they swallowed and laughing just as hard if the female tried to cough and spit the white slime out.
For her part, Asiyah swallowed. It would be demeaning either way, but the sperm the canines would spray down her gullet was water and nourishing in a way, provided one could keep the bitter goo down. And the Kosith certainly wouldn't help her clean if she dribbled it all over her muzzle and down her chest.
There certainly wasn't enough water to bather with, and as the Hatari scrubbed themselves with the dry grass growing alongside the road many remembered wistfully the hot, spring fed pools of their home. The mineral-rich water of those baths would soothe a body until the pains and rigors of the day's exercises were forgotten, leaving the felines spotless as they emerged to dry their fur in the warm light of the setting sun. Gone now, much like their home...
Despite their efforts they knew they were filthy, some of the felines resorting to the old practice of grooming oneself or each other with their tongues. Small consolation, the way Asiyah saw it - they all either carried the Kosith's seed on them or in them. They had hoped that at least the novices would be spared the worst, but the belts they wore to protect their maidenheads could admit a canine shaft under their tail, although thankfully not the knots.
As the night fell and the Hatari settled down to sleep they whispered the same prayer, even as a few of the lean Kos walked among them, ears swiveling as they listened to their prisoners, alert for any sign they were conspiring against them. They prayed for the second sister they'd lost on this march. The first one had been riding in one of the cages and had died a few days ago. The sister was fortunate enough to leave this world just as the caravan had halted for the evening meal. Fortunate, that is, because her sisters were given enough time to raise a small cairn over her body, praying for her soul and apologizing for tainting her final time among the living with their tears.
The one who'd died earlier that day had simply collapsed and never got back up. Since it was too early to make a stop, she was merely pulled out of the coffle and her body dragged to the side of the road, despite the protestations of the Hatar and their pleas to be given enough time to cover their sister's body. In the confusion, Asiyah had unwrapped the bandage around her half-healed chest and managed to lay the fabric across the fallen feline's face, leaving her as naked as the rest of her sisters but hopefully affording her fallen friend some small measure of dignity.
*******
When it finally came, Pari's sleep was troubled, the slumbering feline shuddering and twitching against the sisters sleeping alongside her. They were still in the dry lands and the nights here were bitter cold. The Kosith would wrap themselves in their cloaks and sleep encircling the warm embers of a dying fire, while their officers slept in tents warmed by coal burning in braziers. The Hatari made due with sleeping with their bodies pressed against each other, sharing their warmth since they had no clothing nor would their captors spare the fuel for a fire.
But it wasn't the cold making the young Hatar shudder, but rather the events that had preceded her fitful sleep. In her dreams she was once again being taken away from her sisters and just behind some of the scraggly bushes growing on one side of the dusty road. A belt was looped around her muzzle, forcing it shut as the young feline's nostrils flared in an attempt to draw enough breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly as panic gripped her.
She was soon pushed on to all fours, feeling her tail being yanked up and canine jaws closing around the tip just firmly enough to let her know just how bad it would hurt if the Kos really bit down. She whimpered out her nose as a wet finger pushed itself under her tail and then inside her, the mumbling canine pumping it vigorously in and out before removing it.
As disgusting as it felt to have the male's digit probing around inside her, she would have wriggled on it in feigned delight if she'd known what would replace it. She shrieked despite her bound muzzle once the canine shaft speared her pucker, the bite on her tail and the smack the Kos gave her on her head to keep her quiet paling in comparison to the burning agony under her tail. After he was done she was led back on shaky legs to her coffle where her sisters tried to comfort her before they all curled up to sleep.
It was Pari's first time being mounted, but she'd seen it happen every day. The worst was after the first and only escape attempt. The Hatar who'd tried to bolt in the night had been young, but still older than Pari. The Kosith had not considered her worth chains, so the feline had worked in secret, using her claws to wear her rope through. She'd bolted in the night, no trace of hunger or exhaustion in her form as she ran and leapt past startled guards and tried to disappear in the thicket.
That had been early on in their trek when the terrain they were marching through was still familiar. The feline no doubt hoped to escape and make her way to a nearby settlement, to raise an alarm and possibly a rescue force. She'd chosen night since the felines had noticed that the Kosith's eyesight was of little use in the dark - the canines carried lamps and torches even when the moon was large and high and the Hatari could see well enough.
Still, they'd underestimated their foe's noses. Mounted soldiers easily followed her trail and in less than an hour she was netted and dragged back. A tripod was made from some spears and the feline's arms bound to it as a spreader-bar was fastened to her ankles. The Hatari had watched as an officer walked by, lifted their sister's tail and shoved an apple up the howling feline's sex, inviting his men to take advantage of the available orifice under the Hatar's tail.
Their sister had screamed herself hoarse as Kos after Kos claimed and tied her behind, the loads of a score of men dripping from her gaping tail-hole and over the slit still bulging with the fruit that had been shoved in it. After his men were done, the officer came back and dug the apple out of the whimpering feline's sex, making sure to smear it in the mess leaking from under her tail. She was then released and told that the piece of fruit would be her only meal for the evening and the following day, before being dragged back to her sisters, her strong runner's legs unable to hold her weight after her ordeal. Her sister's had done their best to clean her and did her the kindness of turning their heads and pretending not to hear as the battered Hatar ate the soiled apple.
Pari had known that she was fortunate only to have been taken once. Those sisters not wearing the humiliating devices she and the other novices bore were taken nightly, usually in full view of everyone. She remembered one evening when a particularly comely feline had been led away to one of the large tents the Kosith officers dwelt in. She'd been in there for hours before walking stiffly back to her group, holding a bunch of grapes in one hand, apparently a reward for the services she'd been forced to provide for the high-ranking canines. She'd given Pari the fruit, telling her to share it with the other novices, since they were still growing and needed more than what little the Kosith deigned to feed them. She thanked her and did as she was told, judging by the white goo still visible on the older female's muzzle that her stomach had been filled enough to ruin her appetite.
*******
It had taken almost a week for the slave caravan to reach its destination - the city that had once been the capitol of the Rokar kingdom but was now merely home to the new Kosith governor. The jackals seemed to have become servants in their own home, keeping their heads bowed slightly whenever they addressed the many Kosith strolling about the city as if the owned the place. Flowers were thrown in the path of the marching soldiers, while the crowd leered at the captive Hatari, the lines of lithe feline bodies looking quite arousing to the gawking spectators despite their bedraggled appearance.
When they arrived in the main square three of the Hatar had been separated and led to the stocks flanked by armed Kos. The leader of the force that had taken them announced that this was their gift to the people and that the females would be available for their use until midnight. The other's walked with heads held low and ears folded as they were led to the large area that housed the slaves awaiting sale.
The one thing that the beaten felines were glad to see was water. The Kosith were notoriously obsessed with clean water and would not have settled in a city if it didn't have a good supply year-round. Each was given a piece of hard lye soap and the felines set to work, dragging hard-bristled brushes over their fur as they tried to clean of dust and worse. But the reality of their situation returned once they were led to rows of cells that looked more like cages.
The meals they were fed were unpalatable, but more nutritious and served to them more often than during the terrible trek, as their keepers were obviously eager for them to regain the weight they'd lost on the long, dry march. The first day there a Kos had come by and they were all forced to stand in line, bend over and lift their tails. The male just went along behind them and sniffed at each Hatari sex, occasionally signaling for a female to be removed from the line.
The handful of sisters that were separated had been led away, and once they returned the others could see the pink flesh between their legs glistening. They suspected the Kosith had used them, as they had done countless times since their capture, but the Hatari spoke with fresh despair of how they'd had been forced into stocks and a few male Hatar were brought in.
None of them spoke, instead just mounting each of the bound females and thrusting between their legs with the same instinctive efficiency one might expect of a breeding bull. And apparently with much the same goal. A few days later the male Kos showed up again to sniff at the females' mounds, and with some satisfaction ordered their portions to be increased, despite the fact that those females that had been led away were soon waking up with a nausea many of them recognized...
*******
Their days were spent in exercise, so as to return vitality to their bruised and battered bodies. They were also drills on discipline, as well as lessons in Kosith, so that the felines would know the proper way of addressing the future masters and would be able to understand their commands. If any of the Hatari showed defiance, a painful punishment was administered in such a way as not to damage them.
About five days after they were settled into their pens, the first of the buyers came. She was a Kos with a body that was slender in youth but looking bony in her middle age in a way her costly dress failed to hide. The female was accompanied by several large guards and looked over the assembled Hatari with an appraising eye. She muttered and complained all the while, and those that spoke Kosith grimaced at her words.
She was complaining how the soldiers grew less and less disciplined every year, and wondered at how many virgins they'd ruined before their officers restrained them, even implying that the people running the market might have soiled a few to drive the price up. Her customers, she explained, expected a good tight cunt for the money they paid, and not one some mewling cub clawed its way out of.
Still, after all the complaints and much poking and prodding of what she considered to be the merchandise, she left with more than half the maiden Hatari and a few of the choice older ones. A female in similar dress came the next day for the rest of the virgins, the felines suspecting the sort of life awaiting their youngest.
After that they were auctioned. Prospective buyers were allowed to examine the bound Hatari before the bidding, so as to be sure of their quality and so that they could not the lot number of those that particularly interested them. The auction floor had been a fresh degradation, where they were led up one by one and forced to stand naked in front of a crowd of Kosith shouting out bids as the auctioneer suggested the uses the slave could be put to and drawing the prospective buyer's attention to certain parts of their bodies, hoping to drive the price up.
The females that had been bred had a circle painted on their bellies, proof that a doctor had examined them and found them with child, even though none were yet showing. The man at the podium insisted on driving the price up, arguing that the slaves were not only proven to be fertile, but had already been covered by prized males, saving their new owner the cost of a stud fee. In the end the gavel would fall, condemning another feline to an ignoble fate...
*******
Asiyah clenched her teeth but did her best to keep herself from snarling. Doing so could get her into trouble, and it was bad enough having a hard shaft pumping away under her tail without a punishment after the fact. She felt the knot bumping against her speared pucker and wished the male mounting her would just shove it in, knowing that once she clenched up behind it there would be nothing to do but sit tight as the Kos emptied himself inside her bowels. But the canine breeding her rear seemed intent on prolonging the humiliating coupling, grinding the growing bulb against her strained orifice and stretching it just enough to cause pain but not enough for the bulge to slip in before pulling back out.
She was determined to suffer the ordeal stoically, and every night she prayed to Ishtar for the strength to endure this miserable existence. Not now though. She shuddered at the thought of her Goddess seeing her like this.
She was on all fours, scrubbing the floors and trying not to think fondly of her days as a novice when she'd cleaned the monastery with her new young sisters. The hallowed edifice was a ruin now, and she suspected they would soon be to. The canine currently using her was her new master's son, little more than a boy but a man in his father's eyes, who'd spent a lot of money to buy her as a simple house-slave so that his heir could cultivate his more masculine instincts.
Despite the fact that the boy had given her his virginity, Asiyah felt nothing but loathing for the young male. He was spoiled rotten and though of her as yet another expensive toy, albeit one that his father liked to play with as well. The mistress of the house didn't seem to care, since the feline was no threat to her position. She couldn't conceive with her husband, and if he chose to put her in her place every now and again, so be it.
She felt her tail being yanked up and yowled, not because the pain was that great, but because she knew that was what the young canine wanted to hear from her. She'd learned that if she gave the wretched youth what he wanted every now and again he'd finish sooner. And the sooner he spent himself inside her, the sooner she'd be able to return to her less humiliating labors in scrubbing the floor. Cleaning the mess the boy left in her, she knew, would have to wait until later...
*******
Pari did her best to be brave, but the sight of the door opening almost made her heart stop. Many of the girls of the house had been cruel, teasing her and wondering if she'd squeal or purr as she was taken for her first time and scaring her with various stories, including one that there was an old Kos who'd become impotent and brought his slave here - a massive bull elephant. Apparently the only way the old dog could become aroused anymore was watching the gigantic male rut and he particularly liked to see his stud force himself into a tight virgin cunny, one that would invariably be ruined afterwards.
The only kindness came from a slim fennec who Pari learned was only a few years her elder but looked a good deal older. She assured the young Hatar that she'd been told the same dreadful tale but had never seen such a pair in this house. She'd helped the nervous feline bathe and checked if her nipples were healing well. She looked down at her firm young breasts and winced at the memory of a hot needle going through her flesh so that the slim golden hoops could be attached - each one with a single orange bead with two black ones on either side - marking her as the property of this particular establishment.
The Kos that walked in was not an attractive man - well into his middle age and with the rounded figure of someone who had others working for him. Still, he didn't look cruel, mumbling something softly as he leered at her. She apologized, explaining in broken Kos that she still didn't understand the language, but the male didn't mind. He quickly disrobed and seated himself on the bed next to her. He held out what looked like a polished stick with a bulbous end, and only when he lit a taper on the nearby lamp and brought it to the device did Pari note that the bulb was stuffed with dry crushed plant matter.
When a pungent smoke began to trail from the smoldering bowl, she thought it some form of incense burner, but was surprised when the canine brought it to his lips, the bowl glowing brightly as he drew the smoke in. He seemed to savor it before exhaling and offered the tip of the pipe to the confused Hatar. Not wishing to offend, the young feline put the tip past her lips and drew in a lungful, almost immediately coughing up the thick smoke. The Kos next to her smiled as he spoke something, motioning for her to take another puff and inhaling long and slow as if to demonstrate.
Her head still seemed blurry from what Pari thought was lack of air but she did as instructed, finding that is she inhaled slowly she could keep herself from choking. The smoke she drew in seemed to go straight to her mind, her vision becoming fogy even after she'd slowly exhaled. She felt hands take the pipe away, setting it on a stand on the little bedside table.
As she felt the wolf slowly but firmly push her on to her back she found herself unsure which way was down. Her skin seemed to tingle and it was almost as if she could feel every hair of her fur as the older male laid himself on top of her, hands roaming her nubile body as he mumbled appreciatively. One paw slid down her belly and the young Hatar squirmed as two clawed fingers dipped slightly between her lips.
The Kos pumped a few times before bringing it up, saying something as he showed her two digits with her juices glistening on them. She didn't protest as they fingers were pushed into her parted muzzle, the taste of her own sex on her tongue as something hot and slick prodded between her legs. She was panting when what must have been the tip of the canine's shaft found her slit and cried out when he pushed himself half-way in, the pain of her deflowering cutting through the haze that her mind had been mired in. As the old Kos urgently shoved more of his shaft into her without care or consideration for her young body, Pari found one of her paws flailing wildly towards the table at her bedside. It closed triumphantly around the long stem of the pipe as the feline brought it to her lips and took another long draw, desperate to loose herself in that mist as the fat old man pumped painfully between her legs.
*******
The jeers and angry roars erupting from the spectators thronging the arena only confirmed to Raziya what she'd suspected - they were disappointed to see her win. She'd guessed as much when she was pushed out on to the hot sand without so much a scrap of clothing while her opponent - a grinning canine with enough scars to tell her he was a veteran fighter - walked out armed and armored, albeit lightly.
It had meant to be a joke, of sorts - a trained warrior fighting a wild animal armed only with claws and teeth. But his armor and buckler proved insufficient to protect him from those claws and teeth when fury and a lifetime of martial training propelled the proud Hatar at him. Raziya knew he'd live, despite the blood he was trailing as he was led back to the passage he came out of. Pride had kept him from submitting until her claws had pierced the hide of his neck, but instinct had made him drop his weapon before they sunk into his throat.
Let them jeer. Although brutal, this was a life she could endure - vigorous training, deadly combat, and the possibility of an honorable death should she find an opponent skilled enough to defeat her. The Prefect, seated under a large awning on a terrace that gave him an excellent view, looked displeased at the sight of his howling countrymen. She knew the Kosith held these fight to entertain their people, not to rile them.
He spoke something to a nearby aide, and after the man dashed away it wasn't long before two more males entered the arena, carrying between them some sort of bench. Armed guards followed them, telling Raziya in no uncertain terms she had to comply. She allowed the two - a zebra and a rhino - to push her on to the thing and bind her arms and legs to the sturdy leather straps, expecting she'd receive some sort of lashing for displeasing the mob.
She didn't really care. She already bore the half-healed scars of the Kosith's attempts to cow her and she expected to have more. It only then occurred to her that the two leering males didn't bear any whips or canes, and she wondered briefly what their intent was until the both took off the loincloths covering their crotches. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the rhino bull's massive shaft as it swelled rapidly, the male standing to the side as he admired the bound feline.
She realized that the zebra behind her was already erect when she felt a blunt flare press against her dry slit before it was forced in with one brutal buck of the stallion's hips, the crowd's roar thankfully drowning out her howl of pain. The stud began to rut her brutally while his companion stroked himself, obviously waiting his turn.
The once proud feline bowed her head to try and hide her face, the last hopes she had of salvaging some dignity from this life seemingly driven out by the member violating her. They truly intended to leave her with nothing, not one desperate shred of dignity. That realization came about at the same time the stallion did and the Hatar flicked her hears against her head in attempt to drown out his triumphant neigh, and the roar of the crowd that rejoiced at her debasement.