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The Elemental Portals

Book I – Terra

Chapter VIII – Trapped on Terra

Jimmy reached the burning mass that was his best friend just as Paul and Gael caught up with him. Between the three of them they beat out the flames and threw the burning material aside. Jimmy vaguely registered that most of flames were coming from the thick legal documents she had been carrying and the rest were from her clothes. When they were done his friend was naked and charred, but they could not determine the true extent of her injuries by the light of the burning crops on either side of the road.

“Let’s take her to the warehouse.” Paul Collieman suggested.

“The cottage is closer.” Jimmy said as he picked up Annie by the legs. Gael was already lifting her broad torso.

“Aurora’s cottage has all the bodies it can handle; besides, we have a room in the warehouse set up for accident treatment with all the things we need to treat bad burns and shrapnel.”

“Why do you have that?” Gael asked

“Not everything we bring in from other worlds functions as advertised here. Sometimes things go boom unexpectedly.”

As they hurried past the lane to the cottage Jimmy could hear Junafir wailing from inside

“Is her mother ...?”

“Dead.” Paul answered curtly.

“The projectile took her through the heart.” Gael elaborated.

They made the rest of the trip to the warehouse in silence.

Paul ran ahead and unlocked the doors, leaving them open as he led them through the interior to a room that was quipped with an elevated bed and cabinets of medical supplies. Gael and Jimmy lay Annie down gently as Paul lit the lamps and poured water into a basin from a ceramic jug.

The collie, a veteran of many battles, studied the human female. Her chest was rising and falling unevenly and her breathing was ragged. The hair on her head had been mostly singed off, and her skin ranged from sunburn red to charred black

“Flash burns on her face and second degree burns on her hands.” He pronounced. “Some bad patches on her legs and arms, but it looks like the synthetic undergarments saved her from the worst of it. Cold wet compresses will reduce the temperature of the worst burns and we can wrap up the rest to prevent infection. She’s going to be in a lot of pain when she regains conscience.”

“Do you have any morphine?”

Paul shook his head. “Doesn’t work here. I have some herbal painkillers she can take when she wakes up, but nothing we can inject.”

“Once she’s bandaged I’ll take her through the portal to the hospital in Pembroke. “They’ll be able to take care of her.”

He was shocked when Paul turned on him with a snarl. “The portal? Just what the hell do you think just happened up there?” He said, pointing toward the hill where the compound stood. “That explosion didn’t come from this side. Someone on your side just tried to blow your precious portal part.”

“Wha- how?”

Gael stepped between them, forcing Paul back before turning to Jimmy. “Someone I know that studies these things told me that the portals are caused by great events, meteor strikes, volcanos, earthquakes and the like. But equally great forces can rip them apart, like a second eruption, a tornado, a landslide, a really powerful spell .... or an explosion.”

“You think they were trying to destroy the portal?”

“They didn’t loose that inferno on the off chance you were stupid enough to be standing just outside the portal.” Paul’s tone had lost all of the deference and respect it had once had, making jimmy wonder why the collie was so upset with him. But he had no time to deal with the cranky canine now.

“I’d better go check to se if it is still there.”

“You do that.”

“You go ahead.” Gael said softly. “I’ll stay here with Annie.”

Jimmy left the warehouse, taking one of the lanterns from the porch. Most of the village was up fighting the rooftop fires the blast had ignited. He trudged up the hill, past farmers trying to separate the burning crops from the rest to salvage as much of the harvest as they could. When he got to the top of the hill he stopped.

The summit was almost bare. The barn had disappeared, leaving just a pile of splintered timbers. The fence was gone as well, although some bits of it remained behind where the barn had been. Most importantly, the air in the epicenter of the blast was calm and clear, and the stars on the far side shone unimpeded. There was no shimmer - the portal was no more.

Jimmy sat down on a rock that was still hot from the furnace force winds it had been subjected to and cried. He did no know how long he stayed there, but the sun was coming up by the time he finally stood and made his way back to the warehouse to check on Annie.

The next few days passed in a blur. Jimmy stayed beside Annie day and night, sleeping on the floor beside the bed because Aurora’s cottage was now the place of mourning for both his father and Junafir’s mother. Paul had been up to see her and had passed on the message that Jimmy should avoid the cottage until Ruth’s body had been moved as a number of the villagers who had been her friends, or at least on friendly terms with the Bucher, were blaming him for her death.

“Junafir too?” Jimmy asked.

“Most vehemently.”

Gael came by to sit beside Annie often, but he had begun a special project at the forge which he would not speak of and could never stay long. She woke up on the evening of the second day, and as predicted she was in a lot of pain. Paul gave her a tea made from herbs that were very similar to Earth’s marijuana and she lapsed into a dreamlike state, only becoming coherent as the drug wore off, whereupon Paul administered another dose.

“It’s just until the worst of the burns heal over.” He assured Gael and Jimmy. “Another ten days, tops.”

On the third day since the assassination and explosion they held Arthur’s funeral. Aurora had made all of the arrangements. It is well attended, as Arthur was well respected and the village owed its prosperity to Douglas Trading. After the ceremony, the villagers passed by him and Aurora to make their final condolences. Junafir was notable by her absence.

The next day they held the cremation ceremony for Ruth, as was the tradition of her folk. Jimmy had intended to go, feeling that it was the least he could do to honour the creature who’s death he felt responsible for, but Paul advised him that he was not welcome, so he stayed at the warehouse tending Annie’s burns instead.

The isolation gave him time to think about his situation.

There is no way to get back to earth and little point in doing so with his father’s papers destroyed. If his Uncle had some kind of claim on the family business he would have time to exploit it and Jimmy was not even sure if the company would survive with its main trading route shut off. If Rory Douglas’s aim had been to ruin his brother’s legacy, he had certainly succeeded.

After the funerals Jimmy moved back into his Mother’s cottage. The vixen and his twin fox sisters seemed happy to have him there, even if they broke down crying every time they saw the red hair that reminded them so much of Arthur. It did not help that there were no razors in the house for Jimmy to shave the beginnings of a beard off with.

As was the tradition in Aurora’s family, each ember of the immediate family and his closest friends were able to claim an item of Arthur’s possessions as a keepsake. Jimmy, who by rights chose first, kept only the iron ring that once granted access to the portal. Aurora kept Arthur’s Blue and white baseball jacket, which she liked to wrap around herself to immerse herself in his scent when he was Earthside. Vikki and Mikki choose his books, a collection of fantasy novels that he would read to them from at night. Paul Collieman choose the Katana with the red stone on the hilt.

“Paul,” Aurora said in a tone that held a touch of offence, “that should go to his son.”

“His son hasn’t earned it,” the collie replied. “And someone has to defend my patron’s family.”

“Paul!”

The collie held up a hand. “He has not earned it ... yet. But should he care to do so I will make myself available every morning at dawn and each evening at dusk for training.” Before anyone could speak more, he took his leave.

“Well,” Aurora huffed, “I never ...”

“It’s alright, mother, he’s right. I’ve never been in a real fight like him or Gael, or half of the villagers here. Hell, even Junafir’s mother took on an assassin with nothing more than a meat cleaver. I’d be useless if they came back to finish the job. I’ll let him train me, although I don’t know why he wants to; he seems very disappointed in me.”

“Arthur was a good friend to him, and perhaps he blames you a bit for his death.”

“I blame myself, and more than just a bit.”

“Don’t talk like that, Jimmy. You didn’t bring this down on us, Rory did. Others may blame you or resent you, but don’t you do that to yourself. You need to focus your mind on what you need to do for you and your friend.”

“Annie?”

“Yes. You don’t think that she will want to stay here on Terra, do you?”

Jimmy thought about it. Annie and Gael might have had a bit of a thing going on back on Earth but she had already decided to accept the scholarship in Vancouver before the explosion. He realized that he had a duty to get her back in time to attend, if it were not already too late, but there was one obvious problem.

“How can I get her back to Earth now that the portal is gone?”

“There are other portals.”

His brows lifted. “There are, aren’t there? Like the one that connects to the clan homelands.”

“Knowing Rory, he will anticipate your heading there and lay an ambush along your path.”

“I’ll just have to try a different route then. Do you have any maps of Terra that I can consult? Ones that show the portals?”

“No, only the Wanderers keep such information. We don’t even have maps of the regular routes around Terra. Except for during times of war no one really needs them, one just asks how to get to the next city. If you need to go by a circuitous route you should consult with Paul and Gael; of all the villagers they are the most widely travelled and they may have some suggestions.

“Wanderers. Gael mentioned them a couple of times, but I wasn’t really paying attention.” He recalled that he had been making out with Junafir on the couch at his house the first time and distressed over the death of his father the second.

Aurora seemed to know a bit about them though.

“The wanderers are people that have made mapping the portals their life’s work. Some say that they started from the Home World and worked their way out, others that they came from the worlds on the edge of the universe and worked their way in.”

“There’s a Home World?”

“I’m not sure, but some adhere to the belief that all the species across the universe have common ancestors from a single world – the Home world - all the sentient ones in any event.”

“What, humans and animals, elves and orcs, dragons and dwarves and such, all on the same planet?”

“Some of your fathers books have stories where they all co-exist.”

“But they’re all fiction.”

“So were talking foxes a week ago, as far as you knew. Now you’re related to some.”

Jimmy scratched his head. “Yeah, now that you mention it, dad had said something about the authors of those stories maybe having passed through a portal or two.”

“In any event, one of the most common religions across the worlds, if you can call it that, is based on the concept of a Home World near the centre of the universe, the first world created by a conscious nucleus that eventually expanded its creations into the universe as we know it.”

“Sounds as plausible as the ‘Big Bang’ theory does, I guess.” Jimmy was a fan of the show by the same name but not the science behind it. “I suppose the Wanderers would have maps showing the way to the Home World so that pilgrims could visit it.”

“No, knowledge of Home World’s location is lost. I’m not sure if it is because the portals connecting back to it were destroyed or whether the maps showing the way were, but I’ve heard that a lot of people are searching for it because there are powerful things there that work on all worlds created after it.”

“Are the modern-day wanderers looking for it too?”

“Who knows? Perhaps they are more interested in keeping that knowledge secret.”

“Well, I’m not interested in Home World, just in my home planet. Do you think the Wanderers can help me find a way back to it?”

“If anyone can. As Gael mentioned, they have a society that spans all the known worlds, with sanctuaries in the lager cities. The only one I know of on Terra is in the city of Cognitionis, the city of knowledge. It is in the opposite direction that Rory will expect you to go, so perhaps you should go there first.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll talk to Paul and Gael about it when Annie is recovered enough to join in on the planning.”

“Good. Until then, best not to mention it to anyone. Rory could have spies in the village for all we know.”

Jimmy showed up in front of the warehouse at dawn the next day to find Paul Collieman waiting for him. The dog was holding two swords, Arthur’s katana and a more conventional Terran sabre. He tossed the katana to Jimmy.

“You’ll want to get a feel for the sword you’re going to be carrying, assuming that you survive the training.”

They trained with live blades. The collie was rough and merciless, all his former friendliness had disappeared. Jimmy tried to ignore Paul’s cold attitude and concentrate on the lessons, but it wasn’t easy; on one hand he was afraid that he might inadvertently hurt the collie with the razor-sharp katana or injure himself by not ducking the slashing sabre fast enough.

He need not have worried about hurting Paul. Even when the dog’s taunts and teases drove him to attack without regard for safety his canine opponent blocked or ducked every blow. And it was only the collie’s clever use of the broad side of the blade on Jimmy’s buttocks that kept the boy from being cut as well as being embarrassed.

Gael came over to help when he could, although he spent most of his time on his secret project. The difference in size and speed gave Jimmy some valuable experience in countering other fighting styles, although for the first week and a half he failed to land a blow on the horse either.

Jimmy’s endurance grew day by day, which was good because Paul had more time to train him as the warehouse was doing less and less business as stocks dwindled. The collie could no longer accept goods in trade as there was no means of exporting them to Earth and the Earth goods were going fast now that folk realized that the supply was cut off.

The value of the Douglas name was also eroding as fast as the stock was falling. The farmers that had lost crops in the fire wanted compensation and the villagers were blaming Jimmy for bringing the wrath of his uncle down on them. The older generation remembered how vindictive the fox had been and were afraid that he would send a contingent of armed thugs with less scruples than professional assassins the next time.

Then there were the strong hints that it was time for the last of the Douglas’s to move on.

“He’ll never be the man his father was.” The villagers would say within earshot of Jimmy.

“Shame that they sullied the name of James Douglas. Now HE was an adventurer!”

“Now that you mention him, don’t you think it’s time we renamed the village?”

Jimmy’s face would burn with each insult or insinuation, but he had already reached the same conclusion, that he would have to leave Dougs-ur-Mark. He just needed to wait until Annie was well enough to travel. He also needed to discuss the situation with her, something he had been putting off.

Annie was conscious most of the time now but he drugs to dull the pain kept her in a near stupor. She was most lucid in the early mornings but that is when Gael would visit with her. Jimmy had to be satisfied with whatever coherent conversation he could wring out of her while he changed her bandages and reapplied the salve that Aurora brewed up to speed the healing and prevent too much scarring. He wasn’t able to bring the subject around to leaving though and had to wait until Paul decided to lower the dosage of her painkillers. He was, however, able to discuss the subject at length with Aurora.

“You know that the twins and I won’t be going with you when you leave?” She asked him one night about two weeks after the portal was destroyed.

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose that it makes no sense for you to leave.”

“No. My family is from this area and the twins will need familiar faces around them to get through this. We wouldn’t fit in on Earth in any event.”

Jimmy remembered the incident at the Furry Convention and shuddered. “Yeah, that wouldn’t work.”

Aurora took his hands in hers. “But I do hope that you come back someday. You are more like your father was at the same age than you know. And despite what the villagers say I can see some of his strength in you. It just needs more time and experience to bring it out.”

Jimmy rolled his shoulders to ease the ache from that day’s training. “Paul is trying to beat it into the open.”

He was holding his father’s katana across his knees, repeatedly tightening and then relaxing his grip on the hilt with each hand in turn. It was an exercise Paul demanded he engage in whenever he was not doing anything else with his hands and had loaned him the sword that he had claimed at the funeral ceremony to do so. It reminded Jimmy of something he had read about magicians who specialized in card tricks holding a deck in each hand and just feeling them for years before attempting any serious card manipulation.

At first he thought that it was a bit much, but even after just two weeks he could already feel the weave of the grip and the slight imperfections on the well-used hilt. As he switched hands his fingers lingered on the large red stone set into the pommel.

Aurora saw him fingering the stone. “That reminds me.” She said standing up. “I kept some things back from the sharing ceremony because legally they belonged to both of us, but I’m sure that your father would like you to have some of them on your journey.”

She left the room and came back a minute later with a small wooden box. She placed the box on the table between them and opened it.

Jimmy’s eyes sparkled as the light from the lamp was picked up, refracted and reflected back at him by a number of very large gemstones.

He picked out a diamond the size of a small egg. “Are they real?”

“Yes. These are some the largest and purest gems that have ever been mined on Terra. Although he could have sold them on Earth for enough money to last for generations your father was keeping them separate because he felt that they might have magic properties. Not that they could do anything on Earth or Terra, but there are worlds where a powerful gemstone can buy an empire.”

“He never took them to one of those worlds to check them out?”

“No. He intended to, but then you came along, and after that the twins and it just wasn’t as important as it once seemed. He claimed that he had everything he needed in his family, but whenever he came across them he would at that they would be your legacy, your inheritance, your means of making your way in the worlds.”

“Worlds? Plural?”

“Yes. Strange now that I think of it. None of the Douglas’s had a tendency to wander ... except for your namesake, James Douglas … but even he stopped wandering after discovering Terra.”

Jimmy let that thought percolate in the back of his mind as he examined the largest of the gems. Along with the diamond there was a rectangular blue sapphire, a square-cut emerald and a pure-white stone that had six rays of blue that moved with the light.

He held the white stone up. “What do you call this?”

“We call it a star stone, but Arthur said that hat they call it a star sapphire on earth, although according to him it, the blue sapphire and the ruby are all technically the same kind of crystal but with different impurities.”

Jimmy rummaged around among the smaller stones. “I don’t see any rubies here.”

She pointed to the sword on his lap. “It’s on the hilt. Arthur had it mounted there after he killed a robber in a band that tried to attack the store. ‘A red stone for a blade that has tasted blood’ he said.

Jimmy grunted, dealing with the newfound knowledge that his father had killed another person in a fight with surprising ease now that he had done the same. It must be different though, he thought, killing someone with a sword or a knife or your hands instead of doing it from afar with a gun or an arrow. He wondered if he would be up to it, if and when the occasion to do so arose.

Among the smaller bits of amethyst, garnet and topaz Jimmy found something round and black. It was cold at first, but it warmed as his fingers folded over it. It was heavier than he expected, and because it reflected the light so well he expected it to be smooth to the touch, but it felt rough and uneven.

He held it up, and saw Aurora shudder at the sight of it. “What’s wrong, Mother?”

“That is a black pearl from the silicon seas of Hawaiki, a world of vast oceans dotted with island nations. It is the rarest, most perfect pearl ever harvested there. Your uncle Rory ‘acquired’ it before his final falling out with the family. He donated it to Arthur’s collection in an effort to impress your grandfather, saying that it was a wedding present for the first born of the next generation of Douglas traders; meaning his own offspring, but then Arthur inherited the company, married me and had a son ...” her voice trailed off.

“Did my uncle have any children?”

“No. He tried, but ... there were rumours ... best not to discuss his ... habits. In any event, your father came to believe that the pearl was cursed, and intended to sell it off, but never met anyone he disliked enough to sell it too.”

Jimmy closed the box. “I wonder what my uncle is up to now?”

* * * * * * * *

When Rory Douglas ‘acquired’ the portal near Dainis it was already surrounded by a defensible stone structure. Rory expanded it into a full castle with rooms for himself and barracks for the mercenaries he hired to protect him and his portal. He spent most of his time on the Terran side, where he did not have to disguise his form under large hats and lose robes, but there were times when is presence on Earth was necessary, and others where he needed to cover up while on Terra.

Today was one of them

The portal on Dainis was large enough to roll shipping containers through. He used old ones to bring Earth’s trash over to Terra. He was paid well to make the more noxious waste ‘disappear’, while the rest was supposed to be recycled. In truth, he only recycled the most valuable metals and plastics, dumping the rest around Dainis.

The rails the shipping containers rolled in on were angled downward so that gravity took them straight to the slave pits. The trash was sorted in the pits and the metal from the decrepit old containers was sold as scrap across Terra.

A trapdoor in his Terran bedroom led directly to the portal chamber. It ensured a quick exit should an aggressor breach the defences. Just beside the portal, within range of it to work despite being on the Terran side, was an explosive device that was too small to destroy the portal but large enough to bring the castle down on any invader’s head. Afterward they could dig it out from the Earth side and sweep the area with a machine gun emplacement in the cusp of the portal before sending soldiers through with crossbows and swords, just like he had done hen he took possession of the portal from its former owners in the first place.

Of course, once the Earthlings went through they could never come back, lest they blab about the conduits between the worlds. Those that agreed to stay and work as guards were well taken care of. Those that didn’t were crippled and then thrown into the slave pits to dismantle Earth’s junk in exchange for food.

The slave pits were one of Rory’s innovations. Terran had heard of the concept of slavery from off-worlders but the practice had never caught on there, and still had not anywhere outside of Dainis. Now with the local ruler a puppet of Rory’s the punishment for almost any infraction, including simply being poor, was a stint in the pits. The only way out was to flee Dainis, to find an apprenticeship, or to be bought by someone for some other purpose.

One of those purposes was to become a house slave. The perks included better living conditions and regular food. The downside included beatings and having to service the owner’s desires. The fortunate ones were those whose masters, or mistresses, only wanted sex, because the breakdown in Terran culture that Rory’s activities had brought about had given rise to a number of worse practices.

Rory prided himself in being above it all, but he did have one weakness of the flesh, and that was the feel of smooth, clear, young, furless and hairless flesh under his hands.

He was sitting on the edge of his large bed when Mister Ross came in.

“Is she ready?”

“Yes, Sir”

Rory reached for his veiled hat. “Bring her in then.”

Prostitution was legal on the Australian side of the portal, and that drew a number of young women to the island continent; woman who had been forced into the sex trade in their home countries when they were girls and knew no other work. They came in hope of a better life under the Aussie’s regulated sex trade, and perhaps to escape the life altogether by getting an education in their free time or marrying a local man.

It was very difficult to get in though, unless one had a well-connected sponsor, and that where was Rory came in.

Mister Ross came back in from the portal leading a small dark-skinned woman with frizzy black hair and striking grey eyes. Rory guessed that she would be the offspring of a western soldier and West Asian mother, from the Afghanistan conflict zone perhaps. Mister Ross stopped her three paces away and then backed out of the room.

“Did Mister Ross explain how this works?” Rory asked from behind the veil suspended from his stiff-brimmed hat.

The woman nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor. The strange bald man had told her that her potential patron was disfigured, but free of disease. If she hoped to make enough money to pay him back for his patronage she must be able to prove that she was capable of taking on any client, whether they be fat, ugly, smelly or handicapped.

He had also told her, “Don’t try to impress him. Just do as he says, and you’ll be fine.”

Her name was Nahal, which meant Sprout in her native tongue. She had been given the name by the woman who had taken her when her mother died, thinking it would appeal to the soldiers and officials that liked young girls. With her slight frame and big grey eyes she was desirable to them until adulthood rounded her hips and expanded her breasts. After that requests for her company started dropping off, and that’s when the woman who controlled her started looking for a foreign buyer.

Her most remarkable feature, aside from her striking face, was her skin. Skin that smooth as a baby’s, with the luster of a dark pearl, according to the description the Madam sent out. That description garnered the immediate attention of Mister Ross, who was always on the lookout for something that would interest his employer. After verifying that it was an accurate account, he brought the young woman to Australia under false papers and personally shaved every square centimetre of her body below the ears to prepare her for Rory Douglas.

Rory motioned her forward, indicating that she should stop once she was within reach.

“Remove your clothes.”

Mister Ross had dressed her in a parahan, a type of overdress with loose sleeves that had four buttons from neck to waist. Nahal undid the buttons and let it drop to the floor around her feet.

Rory gasped at the sight of her smooth, silky skin. As promised, it did indeed shine like his favourite Hawaiki pearls. His hands reached out before he remembered that he was wearing gloves.

He cleared his throat. “Turn around.”

Sha did as she was told. There were no mirrors in the room, and Rory told her “Don’t look around.”

Nahal thought that she understood; some disfigured men were ashamed of their scars and did not want others to see them, not even in intimate moments. But Rory just did not want her going to a brothel he controlled babbling about having had sex with a fox-man. Too many reports like that could garner the interest of the tabloid journalists and bring them sniffing around his business.

Rory removed his gloves and reached out to touch the naked flesh that called to him. He ran one hand down a perfect buttock to the firm thigh below it while sliding the other up her flank from hip to armpit. Chills went through him as he felt the smooth, hairless skin with the sensitive pads near his fingertips.

This was his fantasy, his weakness. Ever since he was old enough to be aware of the difference between him and his twin brother, between his father and his dead mother’s family, he had longed to be one of the furless ones, the privileged ones that could travel to his father’s world and back freely. The fact that Arthur could go to Earth with their father was the seed of his jealousy, and when puberty set in and Arthur snuck girly magazines back to Terra it became the seed of his sexual obsession.

Since then Rory could not get excited over his fellow Terrans. No vivacious vixen or busty bunny could hold his interest long enough to procreate. Not even the nearly furless ones would do. He even tried shaving a lioness once, but it was not the same, and she was not very happy about it either.

No, Rory could only be satisfied by the naturally bare skin of the humanoids from worlds like Earth, and the less hair the better. Hair on the head was fine, his human relatives all had that, but a wisp of hair under the arm could turn him off instantly, as would curly pubic locks, even when trimmed, shaved and dyed into interesting shapes, and Rory was known to bite anyone that concealed hairy legs under long skirts.

In fact, Rory was known to bite at the best of times, which was why he now always entertained on the Terran side of the portal, where it was much easier to dispose of a body. But it was bad for business, so nowadays he had Mister Ross check each candidate out and ensure they were truly hairless before bringing them to him.

Mister Ross had done an excellent job this time, by the feel of it. Rory marveled at the silky perfection of this one’s hide. Her back was unblemished, her buttocks were taut, her hips were smooth. His hands ventured farther around. One went up to her breasts while the other slid down to her groin. The breasts were firm, and the soft nipples were free of bumps and hairs. Her mound was as smooth and as soft as a child’s, with no trace of stubble.

He stood up behind her so he could smell all that clean flesh. The veil hanging from his hat parted as he sniffed and rubbed his nose against the skin of her shoulders. Nahal twitched a bit at first, because the cold, damp sensation at its contact was unfamiliar to her. More like the dog Madam kept for guarding her girls, she thought, than a man’s nose. Then images of a man from her home village with his nose half gone from an explosive device filled her mind. The doctors had folded a flap of cheek skin over it to form a new nose but the result was poor. Worse, he snuffled and wiped it constantly because it was always running. She pushed the images away though. She had to do well today or the bald man would send her back to Afghanistan to serve as the lowest form of prostitute.

Rory felt her shudder and he paused in his exploration of her, but she settled down quickly, so he continued.

He paused in his groping to part the robe that concealed his true form. His cock was already erect, having slid out of its sheath at the first touch of her silky skin. Now he pressed it up against her back, nestling his hot flesh between those perfect butt cheeks while his hands went back to sliding along the dusky skin of her chest and thighs.

She parted her legs so that he could slip his hand right up between them and felt one brush her mound. Glancing down without tilting her head, she was surprised to see what looked like dark fur on the back of it. He must be wearing wool gloves, she decided, and wondered if it was a fetish or whether his hands were so scarred that he was ashamed to show them.

No matter, she told herself. The warm pole jammed between her buttocks was proof enough that he was functional in that respect and she knew how to handle things like that.

Rory was pleased with the unbroken and unblemished hide of the woman and his erection grew, forming a knot that forced the skin of his sheath back. He turned his hand over so that his fingers were resting on her mound and rubbed it with three of them. The middle finger soon parted the puffy outer mons and he was further pleased to see that Mister Ross had applied a generous amount of lubricant there. It was too much to expect these whores to get wet for any client, he thought, let alone one that looked like part of the cast of “The Elephant Man” so the gesture was appreciated.

He slid his finger further down and spread the lubricant along the slit that was just beginning to part. After a few strokes he was able to sink that digit inside her twat, being careful not to stick her with his sharp claws. He worked his hand back and forth and his finger in and out, preparing her for the next phase.

Once she was fully open, he took her by the hips and turned her towards the bed as he sidestepped around to keep behind her.

“On your hands and knees in the middle.” He ordered. She complied.

He took a moment to run his hands over the perfect skin of her back and butt again.

“Face down on the mattress. Don’t look around.”

When her arms were bent double and her face was pressed into the sheets he shuffled in behind her upraised bum. He inserted a thumb into her twat to keep it open while he rubbed some of the lubricant that had transferred to his other hand over his quivering cock. When he was ready, he squatted behind her with his knees between hers and his ass on his heels. Then he straightened up, guiding the tapered end of his cock to the hole as he drew his thumb out. With a roll of his hips he was halfway in.

Nahal moaned softly.

“Oh, don’t bother with the acting.” Rory said as he withdrew a bit and then shoved his cock further in. “It’s unnecessary. Just stay still and keep your head down.”

Rory held on to her ass and pushed with his hips until his cock was sliding in and out easily. Then he was able to let go and run his hands over the dusky velvet of her body, marvelling again at its lustre and smoothness. It made him want to taste it, but he refrained; tasting could lead to biting and that would panic the woman, which would lead to more biting and that would lower her value.

Rory could have his women drugged, but found that it was like fucking a warm sack of oatmeal. He could have them bound and blindfolded, but fear made their skin cold, pale and spongy. No, compliant women used to having sex with strangers, whether by choice or not, suited him fine. He was satisfied as long as she could get his hands on their silky hides and only needed a slit in his robes for his cock. As long as their skin was smooth and they followed the rules everything would be fine.

Through the mesh of his veil he could see his cock disappearing and reappearing between the twin pearls of her buttocks. He squeezed them and felt the desire to drive his cock, knot an all, as deep as it would go. He resisted the temptation; human vaginas were not built like Terran ones, and while it was unlikely that he would be stuck in there until his erection subsided here could be some tissue damage on her part, which would panic the woman, which would lead to him having to subdue her, which would lead to more bleeding, etcetera, etcetera ....

But he did drive it in hard enough to make his knot slap against the bare skin on each side of her cunt.

Nahal had reluctantly become familiar with all sorts of cocks since being forced into prostitution - thick ones, thin ones, short stubby ones, long curved ones - but she could feel that there was something different about this one. It slipped in so easily, like it was tapered, but then there was some kind of hard knob at the base. She had never felt anything quite like it, and wondered if it was just his testicles, swollen from abstinence perhaps?

Keeping her face down in the sheets she tentatively reached back between her legs to feel them.

Rory tensed and stopped when he felt her small, delicate fingers stroking his knot. Then they moved back to where his fuzzy balls were hanging and explored them, squeezed them, then moved back to his knot to trace its contours before withdrawing.

It was not technically a violation of the rules, because none of the other whores had done it, he had not told Mister Ross to prohibit it. Despite his initial shock it had felt good … exciting even.

Rory continued with slow steady strokes, building up to an orgasm he was sure would be explosive.

But Nahal was confused and a little scared. The man’s cock was obviously deformed, and he had the hairiest testicles that she had ever felt! She had sensed the client freeze when her fingertips made contact, and he had not moved again until she had withdrawn her hand. She was worried that her chances of remaining in the West where she could hope to one day escape the sex trade had been imperiled by her boldness. She wondered how she could make up for it, how she could prove her worth to the man who she had been told would decide her fate.

Unbeknownst to her, Rory was more than satisfied. The momentary feel of her fingers, fingers free of fur or hair, on the skin of his knot and balls had pushed his lust up a notch. He was already planning on having Mister Ross suggest it to his future partners, including this one, who he would definitely bring back from time to time for more liaisons.

Just thinking of it lent urgency to his thrusts and he soon doubled his pace. When he came it was with a high-pitched cry as he imagined her hand squeezing his balls, or his knot, or both.

When she heard the cry and felt the hot spurt of cum inside her Nahal panicked. The cry sounded inhuman to her, and not knowing that it was indeed inhuman she interpreted it as a cry of disappointment. She became desperate to impress him, and so she employed what had become her signature move back in the brothels of Afghanistan. She extended one of her legs until her ankle was against her ear, and then she swung it up and around to rotate on the cock buried deep inside her, ending up on her back with her knees by her boulders, totally exposed in a way that had never failed to impress the men of the Pashtun. To express vulnerability, and to maintain the restriction against looking at the client, she tossed her head back and to the side and kept her eyes squeezed shut.

It was a flagrant breach of the rules yet it might have worked, but for the fact that her swinging leg knocked Rory’s hat completely off, baring his head and pulling his robes open to expose his furry torso.

Rory panicked.

Mister Ross came running at the sound of screams. He has a needle with a sedative in one hand and a medical bag in the other. He dropped both to restrain his employer, who seemed intent on ripping the woman’s face off.

Once he had pulled Rory off the bed Mister Ross administered the drug to the woman who was clutching her bleeding face. She went limp almost instantly.

While he cleaned her wounds and assessed the extent of the damage he asked the fox, who was still quivering with anger in the corner, “What did she do?”

“She saw me. She knocked of my hat and saw me.”

“Was it necessary to rip her face off for that?”

“I hardly scratched her.”

“She’s going to lose an eye.”

“Good. She can still work in the pits with one.”

Mister Ross shook his head. He had no compassion for the girl that had been savaged but the expense of bringing her here had been wasted now that she was unfit to work in the Australian brothels. But there was nothing for it, taking her to the Earth side for treatment meant paperwork and official scrutiny so he would just have to patch her up as best he could before dumping her into the pits. If she was strong she would survive, and if not … well, he thought, that’s life.

Rory had managed to calm down. He cast off his bloody robes and withdrew to the bathroom nearby to wash the rest off his fur with the jug of lukewarm water kept there. Maybe later he would slip through the portal and grab a shower, one of the Earth luxuries he truly appreciated.

By the time he came back into the bedroom two of his guards were carrying the bandaged woman out through the door while a house slave, a female sheep, gathered the sheets before attempting to clean the blood off the mattress. Faded pink stains denoted previous attempts.

When the route was clear Rory left the room and headed for his Terran office. It was rudimentary, like most of the castle’s facilities, but he could read printed reports there and the lack of electronic distractions gave him time to think. It was also convenient for discussing recent failures with his employees because it was much easier to clean blood off the stonework than it was from the carpet of his Earthside office.

Rory had just sat down when Mister Ross appeared, without making a sound, as usual. The tall, bald human stood waiting patiently with his hands clasped behind him.

Rory was expecting a lecture on the waste of a good prostitute, and he was not in the mood for it. “What is it Ross?” he snarled.

“The assassin, Sevade, arrived while you were, uhm, engaged, sir.”

“Really? Does he know how badly he fucked up?”

“Apparently not, sir. He has already passed over a lock of red hair he believes to be from the intended victim. I sent it to earth for DNA confirmation, but I’m sure it will prove to be Arthur’s rather than his son’s.”

“This should be interesting then.”

Rory checked the contents of the drawers in the heavy oak desk. Along with some pens, pencils and sticky notes there were knives, picks, pliers and thumb screws. He reached to the back of the deepest drawer and pulled out a pair of testicle crushers.

“Disarm him and bring him up, Mister Ross. Oh, and tell the cleaning sheep to boil up a couple of buckets of soapy water. She’s going to need them.”

Paul Collieman © Collifan

Gael Tholkes © MarcusXLight

Junafir Pawstone © Frostlupus

Ruth Pawstone © Bunners

Chris Cinereo © Kyroo Echos

Sevade © Frostlupus