Inquisitor and wolf

She was alone, alone and in darkness, bereft of even the thinnest sliver of moonlight. She was alone, and her head was killing her, 'Blind.' She thought. The last thing she had seen was humans attacking her tribe's camp. Awareness came to her slowly, and so she finally registered the mental pressing against her wrists, ankles, and throat. She tried to growl, but ended up biting down on a piece of wood. Behind her, she could feel herself pressed, tied, against a wooden pole, and beneath her feet, cold stone. 'Trapped, captured.' The thought was humiliating, worse than death; captured. If any of her tribe had survived, they'd have to save her, or if the humans were willing, buy her back. A prickling sensation ran across her skin, causing her fur to stand up on end.

Then came the noise, a distant stepping sound, something hard against stone 'Wood?' She guessed, but why would there be wood sounds in a cave? It was distant, echoing. Then came distant motes of light. The light was too fain to illuminate, but she could see the squarish outline of the room now. 'No, not blind, cave, a deep cave.' The thought was welcoming on one hand, troubling on another. She still hadn't figured out why the foot steps sound like they were against wood.

Then came more light, and even more; her vision was turning clearer, revealing a wooden door opposite her and beyond an even and closely set row of metal bars that ran from the room's floor to ceiling. 'A building, underground.' That was the worst option; she wasn't just captured, but she was far in human territory. She had only heard of humans building things under the ground; she didn't know the details, only that something about the ground in her tribe's territory that prevented them from building underground easily.

Then a light sound. Step, step, step. The sound of shoes beating softly against the stone floor, she focused on the sound, her ears twitching. 'One set of legs, short even steps, coming closer,' her ears twitched again. she could tell the person, human no doubt, was traveling down to her prison. She tensed, her fur standing on edge as the human came closer, trying to make her stand large despite her predicament.

The footsteps and shining light came closer and closer until the person was just beyond the door, forcing her to squint her eyes lest the light blind her. Then, with a rattle of keys and a turn of the lock, the door flung open, and light flooded the room.

Despite her best efforts, she flinched back, blinded.

"Ah, hello~" the man said. 'A human man,' she realized, blinking the light out of her eyes. He had put a lamp down on the floor. She grit her teeth at the dishonor, trapped in such a position at the whims of a human man. Seething, she sat there as the man closed the door and approached the bars of her cell. He was an average-looking human, although she had a hard time telling humans apart; after all, she had only ever met them as enemies. She could imagine how small he would look when she stood at her full height, doubtless head and shoulders above him, but right now, he might as well have been a giant to her.

"It's good to meet you," he said, "properly, I mean." He bowed, but only slightly. "Greetings, I am an Inquisitor. I'm here to help." He said, smiling. She only half understood his words, 'A human shaman?' She thought, turning her head at an angle, a reflex that was to better estimate distances. However useless it was.

The man hummed at her lack of response, as if he expected her to say something through the gag. Still, he saw some understanding in her eyes. "Well, it's not like you can answer, let me help with that." He retrieved a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked her cell. She tried to growl through the gag as he approached, but she was helpless as the man bent down and set his hands to free the wooden bit from her mouth. When he did, she took a second to flex her mouth before speaking.

"Die." It was the first word of the human language she had ever learned.

"Do all of your kind understand our language, or are you just especially learned?"

"Kill yourself or me, I refuse to be dishonored."

"Well, there won't be any need for that. Your tribe mostly escaped intact, and I wouldn't want to cause any needless tragedy." The man chuckled and shook his head, "I'm a humanitarian, you see. I won't dishonor you."

She didn't understand what the word 'humanitarian' was, but understood his meaning well enough. "Capture is dishonor enough." The words were poison on her tongue, but they were true; the only reason she was here and alive was because of this human's sense of humor. A humiliating, squirming feeling wormed its way underneath her skin. "I won't be ransomed."

"Chin up, dear, don't be so glum. Just think about what it'll be like once you get free, and as a bonus, if you escape, you'll doubtless be able to disembowel me yourself. I'm not exactly the stoutest or strongest man in the world."

She growled, showing the man her bare teeth and sending spittle flying towards his face.

"Ah, wonderful," He said, rising to his feet before grabbing a cloth from inside his robe to wipe his face. "Either way, it's good that we can understand each other."

"What do you want?"

"Want?" The man looked down at her, "I am an inquisitor. Sent by his holiness to investigate you, natives of this foreign land, the wolf-men." He spoke as if she would understand some hidden meaning in his words, but when she failed to answer, he continued. "You see, it's said that God made all the creatures of the earth, and entrusted man to take care of them. In doing so, he made the entire world the subject of man. Of course, there are cursed and damned creatures of the world," He shrugged, "but if his holiness can be convinced your kind were indeed put upon this earth as servants, and not animals twisted by foulness, then it would mean much prosperity for your people. And of course, a proper place in service to humanity."

"Die." She growled again.

"Yes, that was dramatic, wasn't it? I shouldn't be surprised it went over your head, I guess I'll just have to educate you in religion as well," the man said, half-reluctant, half-theatrical, "But in short: I am here to make friends with you."

"Never."

"Never?" The man said, almost laughing. "We'll see about that." He reached down and ruffled the fur on her head, petting her. She bristled beneath his hand as it roughly shook her fur, snapping her teeth once. "Ah, so you like it gently?" She growled, but didn't resist as he slowed down. She could actually feel his hand now, instead of just friction. It was calloused and warmed, not what she expected from a human. She had never felt a human's hand, but she always had the impression that they were soft. His touch was comforting, at least compared to the cold, still air of her cell. Then he took his hand away. She felt ashamed when she had to hold herself back, resisting the urge to follow his touch.

But his hand left her for only a moment, returning to cup the side of her face. Their eyes met: his, a deep brown that looked almost black in the lamplight. Her eyes were nearly all pupil and a pitch black iris, with only faint hints of sclera at their edge. On reflex, she growled, trying to assert some dominance, not wanting to surrender to his touch, the sole source of comfort she had.
"Do you want the bit to go back in?"

She didn't answer, glaring at him, but not resisting as he continued his exploration. He traced his hand down her neck and onto her shoulder. His other hand quickly joined, clamping down on her other shoulder. He was so close to her now. One of his hands moved down, along her arm, and then to the side of her body, and then just the tips of his fingers brushed against one of her breasts.

Her eyes widened. She struggled against her bonds, trying to break free, to spare herself the dishonor. The rattling of her chains reverberated throughout the cell. "I'll kill you!" She jutted her head forward, trying to snap at the man, but he jerked his head back just in time.

The man clamped both of his hands on her shoulder again, forcing her still. She tried to avert her gaze, but one of his hands moved to her snout and forced her to look him in the eye. "Don't be a hero. If you fight back now, then the other captives will die." She was panting as he let go of her. If it meant saving other members of her clan, she had to surrender herself to his mercy.

"See, now that was a threat you can understand." She could hear the smile in his voice as he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Just don't resist, and everything will go fine, do you understand?"
The man put a hand on the back of her head and forced her to shake it up and down. She felt disgusted by him, by herself for not resisting, and the strange, contradictory feelings that wormed their way up her spine and fermented in her mind. The worst thing was, somehow, part of her felt bad for snapping at him. She didn't want to dwell on that.

Now, with no resistance, his hand groped her breasts, feeling her tit-flesh roughly. She shuddered but held back her voice. Then his movements became kinder, almost worshipful, as he stroked her breast. Her breathing quickened again, and then he flicked her nipple with a bare thumb. She spoke rapidly, muttering a series of words in her own tongue that the Inquisitor did not recognize. The Inquisitor looked pleased with himself, and his hand moved lower. From breast to stomach, the man found another nipple, this one erect, but nearly hidden entirely under fur. He ran his thumb over it and savored her squirming.

"Say, do these lower breasts swell with milk?" He asked innocently.

"N-no." She was confused and almost burst out laughing. She had seen some animals that had teats that did that, but the idea of her kind doing the same was laughable.

"So, they're vestigial? Your species has a very interesting anatomy. I'd love to study it more sometime." She barely understood what the inquisitor meant, but nodded anyway.

Finally, once he had his fill of her, the man's hands left her, panting and bound. He left her cell without a word and locked the door behind him. She watched, half-aware as he retrieved his lamp and made his way to the wooden door that led out into the stairwell beyond her prison.

"Where are you going?"

"Upstairs, I'll be back later." The man disappeared into the stairwell beyond the door, taking the light with him and leaving her to bathe in darkness.

A part of her wanted him to say, she hated being alone, and the darkness was uncomfortable. But a prouder part of her was determined to resist. She would not give him the victory of beginning the company; she thought herself stronger than that. Stronger than the rough, calloused hands that freely explored her body. Now all she had to comfort herself was the thought that her family might still be alive, and of course, the storm of conflicting emotions she was now left to dwell on.

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Pub: 29 Nov 2025 02:56 UTC

Edit: 02 Jan 2026 21:14 UTC

Views: 700