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Arz could feel the sediment of the earth below him dig into his knees. As if to mock him, the memory of his mentor whispered in his mind. 'A caught frumentarii is a dead one.'
And here he was, a caught frumentarii. But not yet dead. Disarmed, defeated and distraught, yes. He was fast, many cheetahs were. His spots were a blur when he broke into a sprint. But he couldn't sprint his way out of the brawl with this barbarian.
She reeked. That was what he thought when he first caught her scent. Compared to his fair furred cream coat and brown spots, her filthy and dusty grey fur made his stomach turn. A huge bristling mohawk of a mane waved with the slight motion of the air.
The ginger of her mane stood out distractingly against the grey of her black dappled coat. A ragged neckerchief of crimson, dirty with travel and wear, sat along her neck. It was one of a select few articles of clothes the brigand owned. Across her breasts a bandeau of tightly bound cloth kept her heaving chest in check. And covering her groin was a grime-stained loincloth. Ragged edges and holes here and there spoke to its age. And the muddied color spoke to its unfamiliarity with a wash.
From paw to pierced ear she was the picture of a barbarian. Dirty, disheveled, brutal. She hefted a great-axe against her shoulder, teasingly tapping it to the broad muscles that tensed with its weight. Now and then, her lips parted with a wiggle and a mirthful chuckle spilled out.
"What a cutie boy. Nyehehe. So small and soft, hyeheheh," the hyena couldn't help herself. Looking at the simpering cheetah boy before her, she just got the giggles. And she got needy. "Know who I am? Fufufufu."
He tilted his chin stiffly, the barest hint of a nod.
"Then say it, hyeheh."
"Scarlet Grin."
"But a cutie like you can call me Scar," she said. Her voice didn't make it seem like she was interrogating a prisoner. If one heard her speak, they might think she was trying to make a new friend.
But Arz knew enough about the Scarlet Grin to know she didn't want a 'friend'. She wanted a victim to brutalize. And the twitch behind her loincloth spoke to what sort of brutality her pea-brain was considering.
Arz could practically hear her limited intelligence in every strained syllable. Barbarians were all the same, struggling to speak his people's complex tongue. In another time it might make him feel disgusted, inspiring that haughty sense of superiority that made cheetahs walk with their tails held high.
But now the only thing disgusting him was the reeking smell of her unwashed junk. The rancid curtain was thick with the grime of semen, urine, cockfilth and blood. They held the fabric together like a glue. The center of it curved around her prick's sheath, the shadow of it on the fabric made Arz balk. It was monstrous.
Arz sucked in air through his mouth, trying to avoid smelling the cloud of musk any more than he needed to. But each restrained pull of oxygen made his tongue tingle with the particulate matter of her repugnant nethers.
"And you're Arz."
His eyes narrowed, the vertical slits of his pupils shrinking. "You know who I am?"
She cackled, her tummy tensing and her abs clenching. She held her midsection while another giggle wracked her. "Course. Assassin. Trying to kill me. But didn't expect a trap, hmm?"
Arz shook his head no. His neck ached having to look up at her, having to look past her tits to find her smug, snaggletoothed grin. His eyes were occasionally distracted not just by the twitching fabric level with his face, but also the ginger-fluff coming from her armpits.
She grinned, noticing his interest, lifting up her free arm and showing him more. "Ya, you'll work there too."
The ginger-red fur glistened with stale sweat, and a cloud of perspiration rained over him like morning dew. The body-warm, saline vinegar made him gag out his next words. "Work? What? You won't kill me?"
"Kill? Not yet no. Need you to bathe me first. See how you do. If good, live. If not, Well..." She dragged her long, stud-pierced tongue across the chipped blade of her axe. The scrape of metal to metal made his ears fall flat. Her following guffaw made Arz's blood run cold.
Valuing his life, Arz swallowed the revolting taste on his mouth, "I will do what you ask. If you spare me," a tremble in his voice spoke to his worry. The icy talons of angor animi clashed with the flickering blade of pride and honor. He told himself wasn't succumbing to the enemy driven by cowardice. His submission was just a means to find opportunity to turn the tide.
"First, sheath tongue-clean. Haven't had in a few days so, kinda mucky. Ya?" She grinned. Her teeth had no blood on them, but her nom de guerre made Arz imagine them doused with ichor.
With the same slowed time dilation a falling guillotine gives, Arz's perception ground to a halt as Scar moved her loincloth. All she did was hook a claw onto the side and move it to reveal her cock.
The scent was putrid, of course. But the sight was worse. Somehow, it was worse. Teeming with a festering yellow color, the sides of her red dogdick were packed with smegma. Her sheath bulged with rancid, unclean dick-filth. Her tapered doggy phallus was bumpy and warty with disease and toxins.
The combination of the sight and smell caused Arz to dry heave, a hawking gag rising from his gut to his throat. His esophagus flexed and became sore as he tried to hold back the gagging. All to the amusement of Scarlet.
"Ah, yeh, it's not so clean now. But your mouth will rinse it up."
Arz's heart palpitated. "I-I can't... you can't be serious. I couldn't."
She perked up her eyebrow and gave him an incredulous look. She slackened her grip on her greataxe, and it cleaved into the earth beside him. The hulking mass of wrought iron dug into the stone, held in the cut it had formed into the rock. "So death?"
Arz's mouth went dry, as if the saliva in his mouth wanted to flee its responsibility. "N-no... I'll do it."
He closed his eyes, banishing the disgusted expression of his mentor he imagined. Sullying his pride and body to save his life. As much as he tried to tell himself it was logical, he couldn't make that shame disperse. His disgust formed a tight bond with that shame, prickling him with a rebounding agony.
The scent and sight of her would hit him anew with each breath he took, and his fragile mental state would flare again with the panic of the humiliation he was about to endure.
"Okay? Start then, yeh?" She stroked herself a few times in her sheath, the wet smoosh of her packed smegma almost sounded like a clump of pottage. it oozed from along the sides of her diseased spear.
It was clumpy, flakey, a virulent yellowish white. Arz swallowed, trying to return some moisture to his mouth, and he leaned forward. His tongue gingerly exited his mouth, his fangs on either side chittering with a tremble of anticipation. He scraped just the tip across the underside of her doggy dick.
Scar shivered, purring at the feel of his cat-tongue on her canine meat. The spines of his tongue collected her smeg perfectly! It was as if his mouth was made to clean her cock. The clump he'd collected sat on the tip of his tongue like a yoke on a bull. Heavy, distracting, a burden emblematic of his servitude.
Immediately the clump began to melt on his tongue. Sticky waxy smegma eroded when met with the saliva on his sandpaper appendage. It spread across his taste buds, infecting each one with information about his meal.
Urine. Semen. Old skin. Fur. Cunt juice. Her smegma was a preservative within which her recent activities had been caught. He could taste her sexual encounters, each hot marking piss, each jerk-off session, as her fetid futa feta evaporated on his tongue.
"Hrrrk. Hnnn. Hrrrrk," Arz gagged, swallowing the clump in a swipe. That was just the opening taste.
"Going too slow. Come on. Tongue in sheath. Deeper."
She grabbed his head, clutching an ear between her thumb and pointer finger and yanking him forward. She shoved her semi-hard yeen cock past his lips. The bumpy surface of her bioweapon scraped itself against his tongue.
The constant itch on her cock was satisfied by the barbs of his tongue, fucking against it not for the pleasure of sex so much as a good scratch. The side effect was globs of smegma were being deposited all across his mouth.
His throat clenched and flexed. It was a miracle he didn't hurl on her groin and balls. His cheeks, tongue, teeth, were all coated with the peanut butter sticky gunk of her sheath paste. The glue-like smegma turned to a revolting gum in larger amounts. Instead of evaporating, the porous material clung to everything in his maw.
Tears from the reeking vinegar of her stinky cock rolled down his cheeks as he gagged on her. Scarlet panted, her long and dumb tongue slobbering from the side of her mouth as she drooled and enjoyed the ever-itch on her sheath finally getting some relief.
"Unnnffff, good. Good job, yeh. Arz doing good. Better sheath cleaner than assassin."
Her compliment didn't register. His mind was blanked. His thoughts didn't come in words so much as pangs of potent emotion. Rotten aversion, soul-squishing shame, ego-snapping humiliation. He hadn't noticed it, for he had no time too, but his body was having more than just a visceral response on an emotional level.
Below, poking up at his trousers, his kitty dick drooled. Among that putrefied cloud of musk and perspiration were pheromones that triggered Arz's body. It told him to get hard, it told him to get aroused. Despite his stomach squeezing into a fist just above, his dicklet strained to reach its full size. A vague sense of confusion and disgrace dawned on him as he realized his own erection.
Grin grabbed his ear and began to pump into his mouth, taking the reins. She panted, her long and drooling tongue flapping from the side of her mouth. Her spittle dripped from her pink appendage down on his forehead. All while she tongue-washed her prick in his throat.
"Hnnnff. Ughhh, so itchy, now getting better, ya."
She pumped, and the filthy cock-sheath smegbutter of her infectious prick churned against his mouth. She stepped heavily onto his thigh, angling his throat and head down to fuck into his esophagus. It was agonizing, to be yanked on, to have his tonsils scraped by her phallus, and to have her claws dick into his thigh.
"Gonna jizz," Grin said with a panting to the clouds above, in a casual and declarative manner. Her face screwed up in an overwrought, exhausted, and gasping expression of orgasm.
Her hips pumped and humped, the ginger trail that spanned her raphe brushing his chin. Drool, pre, and remoisturized smegma muddied his lips and chin as he tried to think of anything but what he was tasting.
Grin's ejaculation was a major production. Her seed was thick and gunk-like, spurting from her cock in long and forceful bursts. It was chunky and rotten, thickened with a mucus-like substrate connecting the clots of semen that melted into his tongue and slicked down his throat.
Scarlet jizzed her scoby down his throat with all the grunting and frustration of passing a kidney stone, not stopping the rape of his mouth until every droplet of polluted ball-snot was in his mouth or belly.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she withdrew. Arz immediately gagged and sputtered, doubling over as he tried to spit up the 'gift' he'd been given. Scarlet was too busy to care, pissing near his head to relieve her bladder. She was told it was very healthy to urinate after an orgasm. And clearly, she was the picture of genital health and hygiene.
The acrid scent rising from her urine stream added harsh ammonia notes to the mire he was being forced to huff down each second. It was like smelling salts, reinvigorating his gentle nose and making each scent fresh, new, and awful. Gone was that slight mask familiarity had provided him.
He gasped, dragging in air in shuddering and fitful pulls. He looked to her expectantly, wondering what fate held for him next.
"Did good! Now a treat."
Struggling for oxygen, and hardly expecting this reward for good service, Arz was nothing but a doll for Grin to pose. Boys liked doing this, she'd been told, so she thought she'd give Arz a nice present for all his hard work.
She dropped her loincloth past her ass and spun around. She immediately grabbed and planted his face directly against her asshole. With her paw, she slipped down and grasped his pricklet. The curious spikes of his kitty cock scratched her sweaty toes, and the pawjob that was meant to be a gift once more turned into a scratching session for her.
Her ass smog was, expectantly, rancid. A sweaty and bitter vapor invaded his lungs as his nose and lips were rubbed against her wet and sticky asshole. The dark-toned hole flexed and winked, mocking him as her strong hand kept him from pulling away.
Her paw moved with the vigor of a girl who really enjoyed her work. She twitched his little dick between her toes with rapidity and not a moment's hesitation. Arz hated it, if he could, he'd slap himself. He couldn't stand the pleasure. He was feeling, through the awful, tepid mist of musk he was inhaling, immense pleasure.
The pheromones from her ass and balls were overwhelmingly powerful. Dense with signals that demanded arousal from Arz's body. His nervous system replied to her call with throbbing and intense pleasure. A forward, hip-pushing, pre-spurting intensity that made him fuck against her paw despite himself.
His frontal lobe was mush, and his hindbrain picked up where the shattered ego had recessed. And all signals pointed to ejaculating. After a pathetically short pawjob, Arz squirted his seed between her gritty, dirt-specked hooves. His seed wasted among her completely barren, sweat-slick toes. No eggs, no womb, no chance to breed. His white ropes found their grave betwixt her musky paw.
"'Kay, felt cum." She let go of his head and pulled her loincloth back up. "Follow now."
Arz was dizzy. Disgusted. With himself. With her. With what he was just made to do under threat of death. But, he felt nothing but powerlessness, defeat. He hardly noticed how far she'd gotten ahead.
"Follow! Now, cleaning cat."
Arz struggled to stand up, rising to his paws. The wet, cold sensation of the cum that he'd shot into his pants tightened against his balls as he pulled them up. And for some ungodly reason, he followed her scent and commanding musk, forward.