Queen Luna Helti sat upon the ancient throne of stones, staring down at three wolves who had quickly exceeded their welcome.

All male, two had dressed in fine armour, clean, lacquered and painted to show their lineages and grant more fearsome aspects to their otherwise youthful features. Those two glared and growled at each other whenever they believed others would not notice, stinking of impatient competition. While in contrast, the third had come covered in the thick stench of southern perfumes, wrapped in garish silks, and had painted much of his fur in dye to hide his otherwise drab brown pelt.

"And what do you three pups want with me?" Her tone was clear, the question obvious; why were they wasting her time.

At once, the dog who had painted himself like a foreign harlot rushed forward to take a knee before the others had a chance to unlock their horns.

"Your Majesty. I am Aulis Ieculd," he said in the carefully trained voice of an expensive tutelage. "My mother is Earl Ieculd. She sends her fervent well wishes upon you, and asks if you might look kindly on me as a choice for your affections.”

Ah, that was the game they were playing. Word had spread that she was in need of an heir, and so suitors had come to offer their throats to her. The first decorating themselves in valour, while this one had been dressed to tease and bate her. Typical of Earl Fredadot Ieculd, she had no shame in debasing her unmarried son in the hope of tempting her queen’s taste for despoiling pretty southern things. And perhaps if she was still in her Autumn heat, she would have given in.

“Oh?” She leaned back, resting her chin upon a paw in a bored fashion. "And what do you have to offer me that coin cannot buy? My affection… you mean my bed, so what do you bring to it?"

"I can give you heirs," he replied, too full of spunk and his mother’s words to have caution, "strong and healthy daughters who will fight at your side for seasons to come."

"So you bring a pair of balls, is that it?” A chuckled scoff came from her as he walked into her jaws. “If all I wanted from a husband was their cock, I'd just take it. Is that all you want? To be my toy to get tired of and tossed in the midden when I'm done squeezing you dry?"

"Of course not, my queen! I have been well schooled in tending a woman’s needs and keeping her halls. I would be your right paw, whom you could trust the world to."

Luna Helti smiled wider, letting a growl roll up from her throat and rumble in her chest. "Run along, little boy, and come back when you're out of your mother's skirts!"

The young wolf looked over at his two rivals, each hiding their sneers, before turning tail and fleeing the chamber. Luna watched him go, cruel grin on her lips, before she leaned back and considered the two would-be warriors who stood before her.

"Well?" She said, looking them over while they exchanged a look, neither one certain they wished to be next on the chopping block.

Growing bored with the pointless display, she huffed and called for wine. Snatching the cupbearer by the wrist as they poured.

"Send the boy to my chambers," she hissed in his ear, low enough that the latest plea to serve her loins covered her growling. It seemed today's court business was going to take entirely too long.

***

Linden stood there nervously, awaiting the inevitable arrival of his mother. To say he was growing used to his role would be a lie, only that he was learning what to expect. He must be ready to feed her hungers, he must not refuse her or challenge her, and he must appear at least deferent to her at all times.
So when he'd been told to prepare himself, he had stripped down to his fur, ignoring the chill breeze that always made its way inside, stood where she would see him the moment she entered, and finally, kept his eyes clear of the place on the floor where he had last seen his father.

He shivered, closing his eyes to banish the image, hearing her warnings and threats from that day as fresh as if she were behind him now, dripping blood and menace. His eyes didn’t open again until he heard the sound of the doors, and the heavy tread of her approach.

When he turned to look at her, demure with paws before him and head bowed slight, he saw she was taking the measure of him. Her eye played across his pelt, and he saw a gleam in it that could be mischief in any other wolf but her.

"Gods! I am exhausted, boy, help me out of these clothes,” her tone was light, and she came to sit upon her favourite chair by the fire, which groaned in old protest as she settled.

He hastened to obey, unclasping her cloak, and taking her crown with far greater care than she ever bothered. The old iron circlet, said to have come from the ice itself, was something he’d once dreamed to wear, if only in his most feverish imaginings. So when he placed it on her vanity where old scratches waited, it left his paws with a sigh.

By the time he'd turned back, she'd shed the ornaments from her wrists herself, and simply stuck a foot out to him to remove her wrappings. He knelt, the protective layers unbinding from one paw, and then the other. Once both were free she wiggled her toes for a moment before giving his chest a nudge with a small laugh.

"Never get tired of your face down there, now hurry up and get the rest off me. Be good and maybe I'll send for enough wine for two tonight."

"Yes, your majesty." And again he did, not commenting or daring look, remembering the hard learned lessons of the past weeks. He finished stripping her of her leather and wool, before she rose and tugged him to her bed, tail waving lazily as he stood and undid the belt and dropped her trousers.

Freed entirely now, the wolf queen lay back, her hind-paws hooked beneath his arms, pulling him close with her strong, muscular legs. Grinning like a possessed woman, she hauled him up the rest of the way till he was nose to nose with her, his chest pressed to her soft breast, fur meshing together as their breath tangled.

She kissed him, pressing her lips to his, pushing her tongue into his mouth. He felt her strength against his body, undeniably in control of him, just as her needful huff made clear her designs. He didn’t argue, placing his paws on her hips, gently caressing her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin through the layers of thick, coarse fur. Slowly he started to move, rubbing himself against her sex, feeling the heat of her, soaking in it as he pushed himself up till they met and he was able to perform his duty.

Her mouth didn’t stop, biting his lip and dragging it with her sharp teeth as he joined with her, feeling her walls part for him, feeling the warmth from inside and the flutter of her body. The wolf queen clutched his shoulders, holding him in place as he worked, watching him move above her. It was amusing to see how his expression changed from nervousness to closed eyed concentration, his breath coming in smaller gasps timed with his hips.

She sighed and leaned back, letting him work, feeling the blood pumping through her veins, her heart beating faster as she enjoyed herself. Eye shut, taking in the scent of their sex, the warmth of his breath on her breast, the small sounds he made as he moved. She liked this, having a man who was so dedicated to pleasing her, whom she didn't need to worry about their motives, she owned him through and through, from blood to soul. Her paw ran through his insultingly soft fur, to rest where her mark was carved into his flesh, feeling far more giddy excitement from touching that raised scar than she felt guilt when he tensed and whimpered in pain at her playing with the injury.

"Easy pup," she whispered, grinning merrily as she released the sore spot and pulling his head to her breast again, "couldn't help myself. Seeing you like this is better than an army of strapping dumb idiots with their dicks out."

She let him stay there for a while, before reaching around to place a paw on his rump on the unblemished side, urging him to continue as she kneaded his buttocks like a baker would bread. He raised himself up onto his arms, giving himself some leverage to work and keep pulling his slowly swelling knot back out, an act that grew more difficult just as it drove her to greater pleasure. She smiled, hearing him panting, knowing that if she were to reach down and take hold of his cock, she'd find it throbbing in excitement. The thick bulge was doing wonders for her, bludgeoning her open, stretching her receptive cradle, then tugging free past her clit over and over.

Linden felt her tightening around him, getting closer, and he knew she was not far from her release. He groaned, pushing himself harder, wanting to bring her to climax, but also feeling that need build in his own loins. It was a terrible race, to satisfy her before himself, to hold back something he had so little control over or risk punishment. But a hard rake of claws over his back thwarted him, and with a pained yelp, he pushed hard against her, crying out as he buried himself deep and shuddered, feeling her insides grip him like a fist, drawing the seed from his body and taking it for her own.

She growled in triumph as she felt his issue, pressing him close, feeling his weight atop her. He was pathetic, nothing a wolf should be, but the feel of his fur against her breasts was something she savoured, along with the delicious taboo of their familial tie. Deviant, yes, but their connection gave her greater pleasure than if he’d been any young dog off the street.

"I didn’t say you could finish, did I boy," she whispered, reaching around to stroke his head, "what am I to do with you, eh? Make you do that again till you get it right?"

Her barb was soft, as was his body. Warm and comfortable, she felt a satisfaction she knew she wouldn’t with any other man alive. He wasn't strong, or fierce, or handsome, and he was always so damn nervous around her, but he was hers. She closed her eye, waiting for his knot to shrink, so he could try again.

***

Queen Luna Helti stood on the balcony, watching the last lights in the city below as she enjoyed another drink. Linden lay on her bed, exhausted and sleeping it off. He'd been reluctant to take a cup from her when he was done, fearing something or other as he always did when she tried to do anything for him. The wine had finished him off, and it looked like it'd be a while before she could enjoy him again.

She sighed and sipped, looking out over the stone and ice that surrounded her, hearing the howls of her people and the answer of the wind. She wondered what the gods thought of their little game. Surely they would disapprove of her taking a son to mate, but also they must know that without this arrangement, her Queendom would crumble around her.

Her thoughts turned to the men who had come to court her, each bearing their own strange notions of what she wanted. She couldn’t see them as a bitch should a male, she couldn’t admire their oiled fur and groomed features. All she could see was ambition, which wasn’t normally something she hated in a wolf, but when it came to her, it set her teeth on edge.

She shook her head and went inside, crawling up onto the bed to wrap around her thrall. "Don't you ever get tired of sleeping?" She asked, brushing the fur around his eyes, watching as they blinked open. How she loved and hated those eyes, innocent as clear skies, accusing in the red lines beneath them, so much like his father's, but without the gleam of his cunning.

"No, so tired. Washing pots, fetching water, scrubbing… floors," he paused to yawn, groggy with exhaustion and the heady wine, honesty tripping over itself to escape him. If he were sober he would have expected a beating in reprisal, but drunk he couldn’t help himself "was a prince… now thrall… hurts." 

"A thrall is no prince," she agreed, rolling him over onto his front to expose the scarred flesh of his rump, "but it does keep you alive, makes you earn what you get. Should be grateful for a good roof and clothes, boy. What's a little pain compared to all this?"

Linden shivered and whimpered as she stroked him, letting her paw rest on the pink skin that proclaimed her ownership of him. The queen chuckled and patted his backside, tracing every curve of her own name.

"I had a miserable day too pup. Winter be here soon, never enough meat, never enough grain, we'll be needing to raid late again this year. Then there's the earls, pack of backbiting bitches, always wanting more more more, never happy with what they got. Like you I guess. And then there's me, stuck here in my own fucking castle, being courted by all the lost bastards who think a pretty face and fat balls is all I’m needing."
He lay there, still, not moving, staring off into the far distance, as he often did when she was angry with him. She hated that expression, it made her feel so damn guilty for treating him like what he was. She couldn't undo her mistakes, so why wouldn't he just accept it already? Prince Linden was gone, that didn’t mean he had to be miserable about it.
"Not like you did anything as a prince anyway," she huffed, gripping him more tightly, trying to drag a reluctant body into her embrace.

"Tired," he groaned, turning over to face her, "tired, hungry…" He trailed off, leaning in to rest his head on her shoulder. She sighed and threw a leg over him him, resting her arm around his back, rubbing the soft fur of his ears between her fingers.

"Spoilt is what you are. At your age I'd been on a dozen raids, earned my mother's respect, out fighting in rain and snow. None of this sucking up to slaves and lounging around castles. You were begging for worse, boy. Remember that, and don't complain you've got it hard."

Linden sighed, letting her pull him into her arms and press her muzzle to the top of his head. He wrapped around her body, nuzzling into her neck, not even aware of how she took comfort in his proximity, only how his body was cold, his stomach empty, and his paws stung. Eventually he softened, relaxed and was asleep in her arms. She closed her eye, letting her other senses fill with him, savouring the feel of his naked body against hers. She hated herself for this, but she knew that no one else would give her this feeling. And if it had to be this way, so be it, her son was made for her, and she’d make him see that, in time.

***

Heavy steps reverberated off the walls, tapestries and curtains doing little to quieten the frustrated anger of the queen of wolves. She’d known it would be a matter of time before she had to deal with this, but when it took so long to come she had hoped to have avoided this cruelty. She turned into the feast hall and saw him, just as her guard had said, sitting by the fire with his back to her.

"Leave us," she barked at the gawkers and servants, who hurried to obey, leaving her alone with her son. He didn't move, nor did he turn to face her as she approached. The wolf queen stood ominously behind him, letting loose a growl to announce herself, but to get nothing. She growled his name, and all she got was a flick of his ears. So she stalked closer, leaning over him till her breath disturbed the fur on his head and he could hear the snarl in her words.

"Boy," she whispered, watching him stiffen and lower his ears, "I don't know what you expected would happen, but you have displeased me.
"I gave you everything, a life, clothes, shelter, a purpose… and all you have to do, is your gods damned work!" Her arm leapt out like a viper, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and dragging him upright. "Get up, boy, don't just sit there, look at me!"

Linden looked up at her, face streaked with tears and eyes watery as he struggled for breath. They were shot through with red from weeping and exhaustion, still streaked with the muck of his many labours, unwashed and unkept unlike whenever he was thrown to her bed chamber. Two weeks of slavery, two weeks of torture, two weeks of long hours and small meals and longer nights. He had had enough, and made his protest here, commandeering the fire of the great hall and refusing to move, to react, or fight, just letting it all roll over him.

Queen Helti growled and threw him to the floor, sending him tumbling in front of the hearth. She looked down at him with a disgusted pity. No matter how willing they started, every slave needed to be broken eventually.

"You know how this works, boy, I have been more than fair with you. Now either you get up and do your duty, or I'll take you to the barracks and let every bitch there take their turn with you till you come begging for me.”

Linden whimpered and wiped his face, trying not to cry again. He stood up and took a deep breath, staring into the flames as he composed himself. He was tired, he was hungry, he was hurting, but he knew that cowering and showing his belly wouldn’t accomplish anything.

“I can’t,” his simple plea came out. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. I need a rest, you promised you’d be fair to me.”

"I own you, pup, I can do with you what I wish," she towered over him, gold eye burning in the reflected fire. "You're not a prince who can make demands. You're just a slave who happened to be born into my family. That's all you are, and all you'll ever be from now on. Seems I need to beat that into you.”

She snatched him up once more, easily able to hoist him of his feet. His light little body no match for her, yet still he kicked and pulled away, gripping her with thin arms and trying to pry himself free.

"Stop struggling, you ungrateful pup," she hissed, "I'm going to teach you what happens when you disobey. And I promise you, this will hurt a lot more than that first night."

He railed against her, digging claws into her arm and shouting his defiance as he kicked and squirmed. But it was pointless, and she hauled him down the corridors and up the stairs towards her rooms, all the while Linden howled in protest, drawing eyes from passers by, but most showed disgust at him, rather than dare look at the wrathful she-wolf.

The moment they cleared the threshold, she hurled him across the space to roll and crumple on the hardwood floor. Fresh bruises would come, but that was later. Now came her claws about his neck again. She made an example of her power, throwing him like a whale makes sport with a seal, ignoring his cries as he hit the walls, the furniture, till she dragged him over to the bed, throwing him on the mattress where he curled up again, sobbing with pain and clutching his bruised sides.

"Remember this, boy," she said, climbing up onto the bed after him, "either you do your duty or I punish you, I hurt you. I could always brand the other cheek, cut off your tail, take your eyes." She knew she had won, but still needed to make sure he never forgot again. She crawled over him, pinning him beneath her weight, crushing air from his lungs. He tried to fight, but she felt nothing more than light scratches on her battle toughened hide. She licked his neck, savouring the taste of him, dragging her teeth across his throat.

"Remember how this feels next time you start getting ideas. I didn't want to do this, boy, but you need to learn." She ripped the rags from him in one long tear which came with a tuft of white and a yelp. She could pity him, but she knew that it was all part of the process. If he had been any other thrall, she'd have had him flogged, but for him, she could be merciful.
She grabbed him by the shoulders, pinning him to the mattress on his belly, watching the fear grow in his eyes as she did so. She watched him shake and gasp for breath, knowing more pain would come before she was done, his lips parted in a mewling puppy whine.

"Please… no more… I swear… mother."

The wolf queen paused, considering, before reaching down run an affectionate claw along his spine, letting the moment sink in.
"No more, mother, no more begging. I own you, boy. I can beat you, I can whip you, I can fuck you, but those things don't make you mine. This…" she slammed the flat of her palm over the mark on his arse, eliciting a shriek of pain, "… means you're mine."
She hit it again, harder, drawing blood as the fresh scars burst, watching as he curled up into a ball, screaming. She didn’t need the screams, she needed him to submit, to understand who he was, and where he belonged, and with any luck it would be a lesson she only needed to teach once more.

He sobbed, pressing his face into the bedding, shaking with pain. He tried to curl up around himself, but she used her greater weight to press him belly down so the beating could continue.

"I am your mistress," she whispered in his folded ears, "your keeper, your queen. I decide what you are, boy. If you want more, if you want to be a man, you need to work for it."

Linden cried out again as she hit the scarred flesh, feeling it throbbing in agony. He whimpered and begged, but she ignored him, slapping him again and again till his skin was bloody and he could feel the warmth of the red trickling down his thigh.

She growled, pulling his head up to face her. "Now what will you do?"

Linden, tears falling as he looked at her, broke. "I… I'll be good," he said, sniffing back snot, "please…"

The wolf queen nodded, releasing him and reaching down to caress his bloody buttocks.

"That's my boy, I knew you were a smart lad under all that whining. Now I don’t want to hear another word from you, or about you, only what a good toy you’ve been, understood?"

He closed his eyes and nodded feverishly, wishing she would just kill him. But it seemed that was not what his mother wanted, not today at least. She reached under to grab his member, feeling his sheath jerk in her paw, before she began to stroke him slowly.

"No… please…" he whimpered, tears rolling down his face, "you've made your point, I'm bleeding, I'll get blood on everything."

Queen Helti laughed and squeezed him, feeling the softness of his skin, the throbbing of his pulse beneath her fingers. She released him and pushed him over onto his back, kissing his neck and biting him lightly as she lay over him.

"I told you to keep quiet," she whispered, pressing her mouth to his ear, "just remember, this is on you. This is what happens when you act like a spoiled little runt."

He groaned, hiding his face in the bedding, hearing her fiddling with the lacing of her britches. She grabbed his cock, forcing it out from its hiding place, stroking it roughly as she cooed cruelties.

"There we go, nice and stiff again. At least some part of you knows how to do its fucking job. Now keep quiet or I'll give you something to really scream about." She kissed his neck, sliding her fingers down his chest, biting his shoulder lightly as she stroked him.

He shivered, eyes closed, feeling her teeth on his skin, pinching through fur, reminding him who was the powerful one here. He'd had many nightmares of those teeth, those flesh tearing fangs sinking into his neck, and just like in his dreams all he could do was lie helplessly and shiver in fear.

Like that she took him, grinding and growling till at last he was in her and she was able to fuck herself on him. Fear, pain, and misery all made it an impossibility for the pup to find his joy in the vigorous rutting, but if there was one thing he had become expert at, it was enduring this kind of torment without complaint.

All he could do was watch, and suffer, until she was done.

***

It was late, and well into the night, but Queen Helti was still awake, sitting in the corner of her room, keeping a close watch on her bed. Linden slept soundly, wrapped in furs, covered by blankets and looking so damn peaceful it was hard to believe he had screamed himself hoarse mere hours before. She felt tired herself, but it was from duty and not the hour. A cup of red wine sat nearby, along with a platter of meat and bread, both of which lay untouched.

She sighed and picked up the wine, taking a sip and watching her son as he slept, trying to decide how she felt about him. In truth, he had been such a weak little thing she'd half expected him to die from his first winter. But he hadn't, nor did he die in the winters since. She had been at a loss of what to do with him, when his father had lived she'd left his upbringing to him, and when that traitorous dog was dead she had no desire to suddenly play nursemaid to a runt.

What had she done then? She took another draught of wine to aid her memory, thinking slowly back through a haze of raiding and fighting and drinking. There'd been a teacher once, she thought, and then the slaves, but really all she could recall was a vague awareness of his existence in the periphery of her domain.

A chill wind blew through the window, reminding her that the cold months were approaching, and she needed to be on her way soon. A raid was needed to fatten their larders, and she would relish the chance to leave the castle again. Her soldiers were restless, ready for a fight, and would need fat plunder to feed them and feast them at the turning of the year.

As she mused and chewed her meal, a motion caught her eye, the draft stirring some life in the form on the bed who shivered and groaned into consciousness. She took another sip and watched.

Slowly, wincing as he went, the once white pup slid off the side of the bed, groping at the bedding as if blind. He gripped the heavy top furs and pulled them with, putting his nose to them each. A shuddering sigh, almost a sob, escaped his lips as he started bundling them up, straining under their bulk and weight.

Amusing as this oddness was, Luna could keep her silence no longer.

"You stealing my bed now, are you boy?"

He froze, tail between his legs and ears flat as he mumbled something into the thick pelts.

"Speak up, if you don't want another thrashing," a faint growl in her voice, even though she was grinning, not having the will to be angry, but enjoying the chance to taunt him a little.

"They've got blood on them," he said, louder this time, not turning to see her.

The goblet clacked against the table, "So?".

"Mistress Helga in the washroom beats me if I leave any blood on things, I have to wash them again."

Frowning, she looked out the window at the black night and the swirling snow, "It's night, boy, no-ones in the wash-house now."

Without a word, he sighed and nodded, and tottered under the heavy bundle towards the door.

"You going to make me sleep without my furs?"

That got him to pause, caught in indecision.

"I'll… I'll bring back anything that's ready."

"Do you think I care about a little blood, boy?” Her words came with a laugh at the stupidity of what he was saying, “Go ahead and toss them back on, change them in the morning."
But her pragmatic kindness only received a shake of his head. She thought it some defiance, some excuse to leave her chambers early. But his tail was as tucked as it could get and he shook almost violently as he pressed his face into the stained covers.

"I can't, I need to eat tomorrow. I don't get food if I'm not done. I don't get food if I make a mess. I don't get food…" He tailed off, before shuffling towards the door again. "I'll bring you new sheets first, your majesty."
He bowed to her, turning away before she could respond, making it to the door before she even spoke.

"What do you mean you don't get food if you don't wash some stinking sheets? Your duty is to fuck me, not change beds."

The beaten runt froze in the doorway, head down and tail tucked as he stood there shivering.

"My duties are to scrub the hall, serve the breakfasts, change the beds, fetch the water, scrub the pots, carry the washing, feed the guards, clean the spears, and… and serve you," he mumbled. "Please… I'll get you new sheets, but I have to go."

She frowned and looked at him, truly looked at him, noticing his teeth chattering, how his fur was dull and unwashed, the patches of red bruises visible in what was once thick hair. He had lost weight, not that he had ever been robust, something she'd thought was just his puppy fat finally fading.

"I, uh, didn't order you to do that," she said, feeling the words drip out lamely.

The burden finally escaped him, and he tumbled down with it, hurriedly and clumsily piling it back up.

"Cooks don't feed thralls if the steward isn't happy with them, steward says I've got to do more work because I'm clumsy, guards tell the steward if I'm too slow. I need… I need to go… I have to clean this up before the morning shift.” He trembled, staring at his paws, refusing to look her in the eye as he fumbled with the door, "I'll bring you sheets, your majesty."

She watched him go, closing the door behind him. She reached for the wine and drank deeply from it, sighing and looking over at her bed. She'd never thought for a second what it was the thralls did, they were beneath her, beneath her earls, her soldiers and her servants. She hadn't even spared a thought for what else he did when not serving her.

She stared at the door, imagining his small form struggling through the snow to get back to the washhouse, getting soaked with melt-water and muddy from below, covered in frost as the wind bit him. It wasn't her fault, she knew that, he was a thrall, and she could do what she liked with him. But she had made him a thrall, and hadn't thought about what would come next, just what he could do between her legs.

She stood up and removed her symbols of office, dropping the crown by the bed and letting the cloak hit the floor before sliding naked into the cold sheets. She pulled the blankets up and waited for him to return.

***

Linden staggered back towards the keep, stumbling in the dark, lost in his thoughts, numb to everything. His body felt heavy, his bones aching, but he kept moving. He had to get this done, then he could go back to bed and sleep. If he was lucky, maybe she'd let him stay in her chambers again tonight, at least she was warm, and had a fire to dry his fur by.

He rubbed his paws together as he walked, shivering as the cold sunk into his bones. It wasn't long before he got back to the keep, heading down towards the store where the clean covers were kept. He'd been spotted by one or two guards, and he could only pray that at this hour they were either too drunk or too tired to remember him come the morning.

He hurried down the steps, rubbing his arms and tail against himself to keep warm as he made his way through the stores and storage rooms, till he heard something, a grunt and a clatter of bones. The noise sounded again, louder, but muffled, and he followed until he found the source.
A gaggle of wolves were huddled by a low table, a clatter of dice and a stink of spilled drink told him all he needed to know. It was of course the curse of the gods, that their impromptu game of dice happened to be where the fine furs were kept.

"No! Fuck!" One of the trio cried, smacking the carved game pieces to the floor. He was dressed in a stained smock, and surrounded by the faint odour of cooking fat.

"Hey! I won that one! Pay up already!" His opponent, one of the stable hands, stood indignantly and mashed his nose in the cooks face as the dice went flying across the floor, rolling into the darkness beyond the light of the lantern.

"Oh piss off!" The loser snapped, pushing his friend away, "you cheated, we all know it."

"Shut the fuck up you dogs," Snapped a bitch dressed in the padded tunic of the guard, a pinned plate showing her rank of sergeant, "unless you want your wives to know where you are, then quit your yapping. Uther, get more drink, Rolf, find those dice."

The wolves dispersed, Linden shuffled out of sight as he made his way past them to the shelves of linen, hoping they wouldn't notice him.

"What do you think you're doing boy?" The sergeant called, and Linden froze, turning slowly to see her staring at him, eyes not as dimmed as the others.

"Oh… her majesty wants new furs for her bed," he mumbled, taking a step back.

The sergeant came closer, looming over him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck.

"I recognise you now, you're her little fuck-pet aren't you. Wandered out of her bed did’ya? Got yourself lost?"

"Please, let me go, I've got to finish my work," he whispered, hoping that they might relent.

"Oh? Working all night, eh?" The guard held him tight, gripping his legs so he couldn't kick. The others laughed as the sergeant gave him a good pat on the arse. "We gotta do the same, but it’s hard sometimes without a little break now and then, to have a little fun."

Linden cried out as she slapped his bottom, trying to escape her grip, but held fast.

"Hey, maybe we should find somewhere more quiet to have a go at this one, hey boys?" The sergeant asked.

Her two followers grinned wide, tails wagging as they moved through the corridors and into a small side room, shutting the door behind them. Linden groaned as he was thrown onto the floor, wincing as the cold stone jarred his bones.

"You know," the sergeant said, "I’ve been wondering how good you can be, for a queen to take ya. Maybe, if you impress, I’ll have to ask her to lend you out some." She took off her tunic and trousers, kicking off her boots and throwing aside her weapons, stepping over to where he lay.

Next thing Linden knew, was the sounds of heavy drawers smacking into the floor, before his vision was engulfed in grey fur. The guardswoman mashed his snout directly into her mound, her tail arching up as her arse filled his view.

“You do as your told now, pet, and we won’t have to hurt you more than you deserve,” smirking all the harder, she mashed back and forth until his nose was digging into her hair clad cunt, feeling his whimpered protests die in her lips as she watched her two companions disrobe as well. “Just like that baker’s boy, eh?”

Grinning away, they both tugged the pinned thrall’s sackcloth trousers free, leaving him bare to their intentions. His attempts to cry for help were stolen entirely by the woman riding his face, and even if the words had travelled, no one would hear them so deep in the keep at such an hour.

“Belyi, I can go first right? Rolf got to go first last time,” the stable-hand whined, tail wagging eagerly as he looked up to the bitch who led them. ‘Rolf’ protested only for the pair to be silenced swiftly as she laid down her vision for how they’d please her.

“You both, get a turn, at the whore,” her free paw came down, grasping the white furred boy by the throat to stop his writhing and hold his chin where she wanted, “but not till he’s got started on me, got it? Speaking of…”
She shifted, till she could look clean down her length and see his eyes, see the fear and panic as he fought for breath.
“You, boy, if you want to walk out of here tonight, you’re gonna lick, and you’re gonna be good for Rolf and Uther. Do it right, and we’ll let ya go before her highness can miss ya, got it?”

He saw no other option. He had not the strength to fight one of them, let alone all three. He had already suffered enough pain that night, he did not wish to suffer more. It was just as he’d been warned, he was meat now, he was caught in the wolf’s jaw, and all he could do was pray it was merciful.
So he nodded, and tried not to think about the snapping happening between the two men by his ankles. Instead he opened his mouth, and lapped at that hidden, musky spade that was dripping on his nose.

“Thought as much, yeah, can see why she keeps you about,” she pressed him into the floor, barely keeping any weight off him as she viewed her two enraptured males. “Alright, Uther, you get first, but that means Rolf gets to knot.”

Linden didn’t have a chance to think on what that meant, his mind was occupied by fear, and his attention on pressing his tongue between the fleshy folds being forced on him. His focus only shifted when he felt two firm hands grip his thighs, splitting them apart, inviting the telling heat and feel of another body to slide between.

Something hot, wet, bashed forward on a thigh, then under his balls. It made him squirm, until the grip about his ankles grew tighter, and the motion earned him a smack on his wounded hind. When he settled, the probing continued, till it became pressure, pushing somewhere he never envisioned would be touched by another. At first it was terrifying and uncomfortable, next it was terrifying and painful. The hot thing punched through his arse, caring nothing for comfort, only about stretching him apart.

“Gods he’s tight as a snare.”

He didn’t know if it was a complaint or a compliment, but either way it didn’t stop the other male jabbing forward. He groaned, feeling the shaft forcing deeper into him, pushing where nothing had pushed before, rubbing against his innards, making him feel sick. He didn't want this, he didn't want to be fucked, but he was trapped. His heart pounded in his ears, his breath came fast, and he couldn't breathe as he felt as if he was being speared through his stomach.
But that was only one of his concerns, as the bitch leading the two dogs was growing tired of his failure to please her, and squeezed his throat as a reminder. He tried his hardest to attempt those musty folds, digging his tongue in and yelping whenever a thrust opened him wider, sobbing when he felt something new being pressed or scraped.
He licked away as he whimpered, body being bent by the three of them, solid heat invading him and liquid warmth drowning him. The horrid pounding stealing his breath at the same time the torrid cunt gagged him.

“Oh, damn, I feel like a queen,” Belyi howled laughter, enjoying every desperate, feverish lap of the pinned little runt, and watching one of her lovers ruin his rear in such a debauched fashion.

“Yeah, Belyi. He’s so damned, tight, I’m already about to, finish!” Uther groaned out, his rough and hairy balls smacking with every greater speed into Linden’s tail, a terrible swelling was coming, pressing on his narrow sphincter ever more painfully. The knot, the man was about to knot him!

“Oi, don’t you fucking dare you cheat, I’m not waiting till sun-up for my chance!”
An unlikely rescuer, the second wolf began to bicker with the one pillaging him, both swiftly dealt with by a kick from the bitch.

“I told you, no knotting, Uther! Rolf still gets a go, and neither of you, are getting a turn with me tonight. Not when this tongue is so fucking good!” She was devolving into the growls of dominant satisfaction, her scent caking their plaything, as one small climax was dragged out of her with a garbled snarl and another squeeze of his throat.

The one in his guts cursed, but relented, pulling out sharp enough to make Linden yelp, before taking a few more rapid, shallow thrusts. What came next was an alien feeling of warmth, of liquid pouring into sensitive organs, coating everything and making him feel as if he was about to foul himself like a newborn.

“Damn, yeah, take it you whore, take a real wolf’s nut in your guts!” Snarling, the stable-hand emptied all he had, sack dragging against him with every spill. When finally the violation was finished, and that slowly softening cock withdrew, he was left sobbing.

"Please," he whispered, "you promised."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," the sergeant said, pressing him down onto the cold floor. "You can go after we're done, alright?"

He closed his eyes, grunting as yet one more cock pressed into his rear, feeling it forcing its way into his bowels following the path its brother had made. He groaned, gritting his teeth, feeling the ache in his stomach as it stretched his guts wide.

"Fuck, I can see your stomach bulging out!" Rolf chuckled, pressing a paw to his belly with enough force to make him wheeze. "Maybe runts are good for something after all!"

He tried to ignore the pain, but it was too much, too strong for him to bear. He moaned and groaned, trying to move away, but his body wouldn't listen, his legs spreading wider as he sprawled listlessly on his back. Not content with that alone, Uther grabbed his ankles and lifted them wide.

"You like that, don't you, slut? Come on, open up for me, I know you want it. We all know about you, the queens personal whore, the fucking failure."

Linden shook his head, closing his eyes tight to deny the humiliation. He could feel it, the throbbing meat working his innards, splitting him apart, stretching him till he thought he would burst, making him cry out in pain.

“Don’t you ignore him," Belyi choked him again, "we know you like this, everyone in the castle knows what a pathetic little fucked up whore you are. We've all been taking turns to listen at the door when the queen fucks you, and we've all been wanting a piece. Come on, I want to hear you say it."

Linden struggled, shaking his head, gasping for air.

"Please…" he whispered.

She laughed and let him go, forcing him over onto his front, Rolf’s prick turning inside him like he was meat on the spit.

"Seems like he wants us to go all night boys, have at him."

***

She was just going to make sure he hadn't run off. He'd been gone too long for fetching blankets, little runt had been playing her for a fool, that was all. When she found him, she'd brand the other cheek, then beat it bloody for daring to lie, daring to make her feel a moment’s pity.

Such thoughts pursued themselves in circles about her mind, excuses to hide her concerns.

Luna Helti, in nothing but britches and her cloak, stalked the barely lit castle in search of her prey, her wayward child. The cold did not bother her, nor did the fact she wore no covers on her paws, years of raiding and campaigning made a bitch's pads tougher than leather. She moved without sound, her ears perked, listening to every whisper of wind through stone, every footfall from guards on patrol, and every groan from the beds as lovers wooed each other under the cover of darkness. She'd traced his passage to the washhouse, but the fresh fallen snow destroyed his scent, and she lost it soon after. So she had to prowl around those places a thrall might hide, trusting instinct to guide her.

Her patience was rewarded when she heard a muffled sob, coming from deep within the castle, the pitch familiar and irksome. She hurried, tracking the whimper and cry to what to a store room. Her nose told her much. Blood, and cum, the scent of four wolves, one she knew intimately, three only vaguely. They'd been rutting here, and plenty.

Luna threw open the door, growling in rage. Three figures were crouched around a prone body, which looked up at her with unfocussed blue eyes. The wolves sprang to their feet, shock and panic on their faces.

"Your majesty?" One asked, taking a step back.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" She snarled, voice savage and guttural. She could smell fear on them, see the whites of their eyes, and hear their hearts pounding like drums.

A bitch with the bearing of a soldier took a step towards her, gripping her spear tight. It wasn’t her only mistake that night, but then, the bitch queen was not known for forgiveness.

"Your majesty, we… we were just taking our turn with him."

She saw it now, the white fur matted across his body, the bruises in places she hadn't touched him, the tears in his eyes, the puddle spreading around him. It was easy to see what had happened, and she felt rage build up inside her. She moved forward, hackles high, claws tensed, teeth bared.

"Your majesty…" one of the two men whimpered, stepping back. "We didn't know you cared so much for this slut."

The other laughed nervously, watching as she approached, "Yeah… we were just having some fun… we didn't know he was-"

Luna roared and struck, ripping the first wolf's throat out before he could finish his sentence. The other two gasped in shock, frozen where they stood, rooted in place by their own terror. She leapt onto them, biting down hard on the neck of the bitch, holding her fast as she shook her head savagely to the sound of gurgling blood.

The third wolf fumbled with a knife, before dropping it and bolting for the open door to escape the whirlwind of savagery that had come for them. Luna saw him run, letting go of the sergeant so she fell dead at her feet. With a deep breath she lunged at the second male, tackling him with a massive shoulder and sending him flying across the corridor. He slammed into the stone wall, collapsing in a coughing heap as all the air left him.

She looked down at the bodies around her, taking a moment to wipe the blood from her muzzle and lips. She stepped over to the small white ball, that was shivering in the middle of it all.

"Linden?" She asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He flinched away from her hand, whimpering and digging all the deeper into himself to hide.

"Get up boy," she snapped, "I can't carry you back like this."

He stayed on the floor, shaking, groaning as he attempted to curl up so tight the world would go away.

"Please… it hurts…" he mumbled.

She growled, grabbing hold of him and lifting him into her arms, cradling him against her chest. He whined, pressing his face into her fur, but didn't fight back, simply left the world of reasoned thought behind.

"It's alright boy," she murmured, feeling him trembling in her arms as she took to a quick lope. "You'll live."

The doors to her chambers opened, and she slipped inside, locking it behind her. He lay still in her arms, exhausted, barely conscious. She laid him down gently in bed, stripping off the last of his rags and laying him under what few blankets were left.

"Bet you wish you'd left the covers on now eh?" She tried to joke, but her heart wasn't in it and he didn't seem to hear.
"Dammit," she spat, departing for a second to throw fresh logs on the fire before wrapping herself about him, her own body all the furs he'd need.

He whimpered as she pulled him close, snuggled into her warm belly.

"Shh, shh… It's alright Linden, I'll take care of you."

***

Linden woke up shivering, cold and sore. A burning in his head, his rear and other places made him regret his choice to live. He groaned, opening his eyes, only to be blinded by the bright light of the morning sun.

"Morning boy," his mother's voice said, sounding far away. "You've got a fever, thought you might. Come on, sit up."

She helped him up, holding him steady as he tried to shake the grogginess from his head. He whimpered as he felt the pain in his backside, his tail twitching.

"Here," she said, putting a bowl of broth into his paws, "eat."

He didn't move, looking down at the food. He knew he should be hungry, but his stomach was tied in knots. He couldn't even bear to look at it, so he kept his eyes on the floor.

"Eat," she said, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing him to look at her.

What she saw in him was not the boy she remembered, not the image in her head. His eyes were unfocussed and elsewhere, and he stared at her without recognition.

"Linden, you need to eat. Or was all that talk about not getting enough a lie? Go on, eat."

He didn't move, just stared at her. She let go of his jaw, watching him carefully.

"I don't want to anymore," he whispered, his voice soft and hoarse.

She frowned, growling, but he didn't flinch or back down.

"I can force it down you if I have to. You're not going to starve on me, boy."

He shook his head, looking down at the bowl in his paws.

"I don't want to."

She growled again, leaning in close, her eye boring into his.

"Boy, I know you're tired, but you need to eat. You don't eat, you get weaker, you die, and that I will not allow."

"Why not?" He asked, a creeping feel of defiance coming as the cold clutched him.

She growled, gripping his jaw tightly.

"Don't you dare," she snarled, "don't you fucking dare."

He winced, but held her gaze, refusing to back down, he was pleading with her, begging her, an expression that had run out of tears but still had need of them.

"Why not? It's not like you care." The words were leaden, falling from him before he had a chance to think on them.

"Linden-"

"What would be the point mother? So I can keep being tortured and hurt? So I can go back to the thrall pens and get beaten? So I can… I can…" He managed to find a tear, paws shaking around the bowl that felt too heavy. "… I can't. I don't want to, I want to wake up now."

Luna stared at her son, shaking her head slowly. She wasn't sure what to do. Her boy was right, she didn't care for him as a mother should, but he was still hers. She had brought him to this point, by one means and then another, and had enjoyed it. But this… what had she thought would happen? That he would just exist in her bedchambers as a toy? That he'd be frozen in time whenever she wasn't using him? Two weeks, not even a full moon, and he was transformed from that useless runt of a son she ignored, to a broken weeping wretch begging for death.

She had done this to him, and she couldn't undo it.

"I don't know what to do with you," she said, taking the bowl and setting it aside. "This… isn't what I wanted boy. I thought… fuck I thought you'd come to like it, being my sla- my bedmate. I just wanted to toughen you up a little, get a little wolf into you after all this soft southerner shit. I never meant for this to happen, the raping and the starving and all that.
"I wanted you for me! Me alone! A warm body to come back to after a raid, somebody I could have and not have to think twice about. Some fucking piece of comfort waiting for me whenever I needed them. A male I wouldn't mind if he gave me pups. I wanted you to be mine, not some fucking toy to be thrown away when you're no longer useful!"

"But I didn't want that!"

"I know that! Fuck, you think I don't know that? I'm not stupid boy, I can see the look in your eyes, I can hear the way you talk to me. I thought I could do something to fix it, to give you something you'd want. I thought… I thought you'd want to be mine, when you saw how good it could be. Soon as you stopped being a spoiled little brat, toughened up some, started earning your place around here. Then I wouldn't have to keep making excuses to explain why I kept you around."

"Well it doesn't matter now, does it?" He snapped, tears running down his cheeks, eyes filled with a focussed pain. "You've ruined everything. All you had to do was leave me alone, let me live my own life, but you couldn't even do that. Everyone here always hated me, was cruel to me, except the slaves you forced to take care of me! I'm not stupid either, mother, I knew you made them take care of me so you didn't need to! And then you took them from me too! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

He screamed at her, throwing himself at her like a wolf possessed, clawing at her fur, blood boiling as badly as his heart was breaking. If he had been a full-sized wolf maybe he would have the body to fight her, maybe if he wasn't weak from a life of abandonment he would have the knowledge for how to strike her, maybe if he wasn't sick and tired he would have had the strength to hurt her.

But he didn't, he had none of that, he was a runt, and he was weak, and he was burning with fever. So when the massive arms of the warrior queen came around his back, and pressed him to her breast in a constricting bind, all he could do was sob and pant his impotent rage at the unjust world.

"I know," she whispered, holding him tight, feeling his anger burn out, leaving him empty. "I know, boy."
He lay in her arms, shaking, unable to think, unable to feel, his mind blank and his heart cold. He wanted to cry, but his eyes were dry and his throat ached, so he just lay there, shivering in her embrace.

"I don't want to be here anymore," he said, his voice soft and hoarse. "I don't want to be your toy, I don't want to be a slave, I don't want to be anything anymore."

She held him close, growling softly, wishing she could say something, but unable to find the words.

"I hate you," he said, the last of his strength spent on the words like an ancient curse, the mad glint in his eyes fading. "I hate you…"

She didn't reply, just held him tighter. He whimpered, his head on her breast, listening to her heartbeat, hoping that the drum would stop.

"I hate you," he whispered, "I hate you…"

***

Luna watched her son as he slept, curled up under the blankets. He looked peaceful, which was more than she could say for herself. She sighed, rubbing her face with a paw, growling in frustration. She had no idea what to do.

She was a warrior, not a nursemaid. And what made it worse is she knew who was, but the thought of calling on them had her hackles rising and her gorge fill with acid bile.

She growled, shaking her head, looking away from him. She had to do something, she couldn't just let him lie there and waste away. But she couldn't stay there tending to him when she had a country to rule and a raid to lead.

The thick snow of the night before had settled, emptying the sky for now but still heralding a long and cold winter. She needed to be with her warriors, not least of all because the news of what she'd done last night was spreading and sapping their spirits more than any gale could.

Her advisors would have a fit, and she didn't care. The soldiers would hate her, but she had already sent word for why she had done what she had done. He was hers, after all, and the punishment for hurting what was hers was death. But still, they would grumble and complain, and that would weaken her.

A sound that might have belonged to a kitten emerged from the bed. He was sneezing in his sleep, kicking fitfully. She sighed, moving closer, touching his nose with her own, feeling the heat of his fever.

"Hush, boy," she whispered, "it's alright."

He calmed, groaning softly, settling back into his blankets. Delicate and dying… a combination that she knew she was ill-suited to dealing with. There was nothing else for it, she was not the one he needed ight now. Her warriors needed her, her crown needed her, the boy…

Moments later she shoved open her chamber door, dressed ready for war and looking as if she would relish one. She grabbed the nearest of her startled guards and dragged them in close.

"Fetch that fox bitch from whatever hole she's in, and give her whatever she needs. Tell her if he's not awake and well when I am back she'll wish for a hanging!"

Tossing the first one back, she grabbed the second who flinched and yelped as the queen's deadly glare pinned them in place.

"Find the Steward, send her to the war-room. Then gather my captains, we're leaving tonight."

She pushed past them, storming down the corridors to the echo of steel on stone. She had a raid to plan, and she needed to be as far away from that bed as she could until her head and heart were her own again.