Chapter eight

Supper was a tense affair with men touchy in the presence of a stranger that had little inclination to talk. The trapper - - Caled - - took his supper, a bowl of cooling stew and yesterdays bread and ate it silently at the table, while the woodsmen looked on, occasionally asking him a question which he declined to answer with more than a grunted yes or no, or the very shortest of explanations. And those explanations only came when they inquired about things like the weather rolling down from the mountains and the severity of the snow in the high country.

He did accept a mug of ale afterwards though, and the lure of drinking it by the fire.

The neko crept from his cage, to clean the remnants of supper, hoping they would be too focused on their guest to worry him. There was no leftover stew tonight, which meant his own supper would consist of bread heels, but his appetite of late had been a weak thing.

When he'd dried the last dish and put it away, careful not to make a clatter that would draw attention, he hoped to sink down in corner of the kitchen and stay there, out of notice, but it was not to be.

Stein noted his inactivity and called him over. The neko padded across the room without hesitation. They'd let him walk on two feet again, satisfied at the state of his submission this last month of winter. He dropped to his knees though, by ingrained reflex before Stein, head lowered, shoulders hunched, waiting for command. They laughed, asking the trapper if he'd ever seen a cat like this in the highlands. A hand grasped the neko's tail and pulled and he bit his lip, always sensitive to sharp pressure applied there. The trapper said nothing, but the neko felt his eyes upon him, a more penetrating gaze than any of the woodsmen possessed. The neko was afraid to look up, for meeting the eyes of his betters was a punishable offense. As if they needed reason.

Stein patted his fat crotch and the neko reached up to unfasten the lacings of his trousers, immediately taking the head of Stein's cock in his mouth as it popped free. He shut his eyes and began to lick the head, like Stein liked, hands massaging big balls as he worked. Stein hummed, pleased and the one sided conversation, which had lulled somewhat as the other woodsmen eyed their comrade's servicing, began up again.

"Being up in the highlands all by your lonesome, you probably haven't had much in the way of a proper lay, eh?" Sven asked slyly.

If the trapper answered, the neko didn't hear it.

"This little cat is well trained. For a pelt or two, he can satisfy all your needs."

Stein grasped the neko's ears and shoved the length of his fat cock down the neko's throat as he came, gasping, "There's your stew, tonight, little bitch."

And not a drop was spilled. The neko waited for further instruction. Usually Karl wanted his turn first, but tonight, the eldest woodsman seemed reluctant to be serviced with strange company watching. The twins were not so shy though and the neko moved on to them. From the corner of his eye, he saw the trapper looking away, towards the fire, in no wise possessing the keen interest the lady had in observing the neko's subjugation.

Before the neko had finished with the second twin, the trapper put down is empty mug and rose, thanking Karl for the drink and the chance to thaw, but claiming the need to get back to his animals and bed down for the night.

"It'll be cold out there, sleeping by yourself," Karl said. "Sure you don't want the slave to warm your bedroll. That one little fox pelt would get you the night with him. His mouth ain't got nothing on his ass. "

The trapper hesitated, glancing back with disinterested blue eyes at the kneeling neko. The neko felt his ears flatten of their own accord, feeling the sting of embarrassment that had not had the strength to warm him in what seemed ages.

"Throw in a loaf of bread and chunk of cheese and the pelt's yours," the trapper said finally.

Karl thought it over, and finally shrugged. "Done. Do what you like to him, long as you don't cripple him."

The trapper nodded and left, not waiting for the neko or his bartered food.

Karl caught the neko's arm while Olaf was slicing off a hunk of cheese and wrapping it up with more of the old bread. "Do what you're told, hear? See that he's pleased enough to want to buy your miserable little ass tomorrow night as well, understand, hole?"

The neko nodded emphatically and Karl thrust him towards the door. He took the little package of bread and cheese and steeled himself for the cold. He had no shoes and only the loincloth for clothing. His trips outside to relieve himself and wash were torture in this frigid winter weather. It would be a quicker trip to the barn though, if he ran. His feet were still numb from cold by the time he slipped past the barn door. He shivered, skin feeling like ice from the brief foray though the snow.

The trapper looked up at his entrance, crouching by the front leg of a brown horse. A second, smaller horse shifted nearby, and a long legged, grey dog rose, growling, before the trapper shushed it with a motion of his hand.

Blue eyes traveled over him, then the trapper frowned, muttering something under his breath. He rose and the neko detected a hitch in his movements and a slight wince that the man tried to cover. Perhaps the horse wasn't the only lame one. If the animal had taken a fall with the man atop, the man might have suffered injuries as well.

The neko leaned with his back against the barn door, clutching the package to his chest, unsure of this stranger and what he would demand of him.

"Do you know horses?" the man asked.

The neko blinked and slowly shook his head. He'd only ridden the once with the lady and his service to her had not extended to the stables.

The trapper frowned again, irritated, then beckoned. The neko was too well trained to hesitate and he approached, offering the package. The trapper took it and tossed it aside, onto the pile of his gear that sat by the bundled furs. In its place, the trapper shoved a heavy rag into the neko's hands.

"It's no science. Take the cloth and rub her down. Follow the grain of the coat or she'll take a bite out of you. Don't stand behind her or she'll do worse." The trapper indicated the smaller animal, which was worrying at a pile of old straw looking for edible strands.

The trapper crouched again, and began rubbing the liniment he'd gotten from the woodsmen into the leg of the larger horse. His hands were narrow and long fingered, oddly clean for a man who lived in the wilderness to make his ends meat.

The neko tentatively took the cloth to the horse, placing his other hand on the coarse winter hair of her shoulder. A muscle twitched under his touch, but otherwise the mare seemed disinclined to turn and bite him. He began the process, stroking down the line of her back and she shifted, blowing a gust of air out her nostrils in an equine sigh of content.

The trapper watched for a while, to make sure his animal was being properly tended, then wiped the liniment off his hands and rose with another quiet grunt to approach his gear. He rolled out his bedroll atop a pile of relatively clean straw and settled down, cross-legged upon it. He shrugged off the his coat, a thick affair made of a mismatched array of pelts, then rooted around in his pack for a square of black stone, which he proceeded to use to sharpen the large knife he wore at his side.

The neko cast a nervous, sideways glance at the long blade. The woodsmen had beat, branded and pierced him, but they had never taken a blade to his skin. He feared of a sudden what a stranger, who made his livelihood killing and skinning animals might do.

"You're far from the forests of your homeland." The trapper surprised the neko by commenting. His voice was low and smooth when he wasn't giving short, terse answers.

It hadn't exactly been a question and the woodsmen had gone to some effort to dissuade the neko from speaking out as a man might, so he said nothing in response. He continued diligently on the pack mare.

"That's enough for her. Do the same for the gelding," the trapper said, past the slow, grinding strokes of blade against sharpening stone.

The neko moved to the larger horse, more confident now in his task. The horses were warm , steady things that demanded nothing of him save he respect the boundaries of their own skittishness'. He was careful around the leg where the fur still gleamed damply from the application of liniment. He ran his fingers over the upper leg lightly and felt a greater heat and the gentle fullness of swollen flesh. The horse swung its big head around to look at him, and the neko made a sympathetic sound and scratched the thick neck under the fall of bristly mane.

"Good enough," the trapper said. "That's all the use I have for you. You can return to the house."

The neko gaped, surprised at the dismissal. Had this man not paid for the full use of him tonight and with it a night away from the pleasures of the five woodcutters? Disappointment unexpectedly rose. The neko had been more than willing to risk the perversions of a stranger who killed for a living to escape the attentions of his masters. But rebellion was a distant thing, drummed out of him with meticulous cruelty and he nodded numbly, ears flat, hands trembling as he put down the curry cloth and moved to the barn door.

"What's your name?" the trapper asked, unexpectedly.

The neko blinked, taken unawares at the question. For a long moment his mind blanked, no answer rising to the surface. Bitch. Hole. Slave. Slut. A bevy of other things they used for him came to mind, but the name he'd been given at birth had been so long unused that almost it escaped him.

"Dhar - - Dharsha," he whispered, his voice rough from neglect. He looked back, almost afraid to meet the trapper's eyes, because no one had ever cared enough to ask since he'd been taken. Not the slavers who'd kidnapped him or the merchants who'd sold him like so much dry goods, or even the Lady.

The trapper - - Caled was his name, the neko recalled - - canted his head, blue eyes narrowed in thought. "Were you taken in payment for an owed debt? Or for the commission of a crime?"

The neko stared, not understanding.

"Those," Caled said. "Are the legitimate reasons a man might be sold into servitude, when war is not an issue. Are you a debtor or a criminal?"

The neko shook his head slowly.

Caled settled back, eyeing the neko with a frown that hinted at distaste. "I'm ill-used to sleeping with strangers at my back, but stay if you'd rather the company of horses over the company of your masters."

It was not an offer the neko felt inclined to refuse. He moved back into the barn, shivering a little from the gust of cold air that seeped in through the cracks in the barn door.

"There are furs enough for warmth," the trapper said and reached for one of the bundles of pelts, then winced, gasping a little in pain at the stretch, before he pressed his lips to cover it.

The neko crouched and pushed a bundle towards the trapper, eyes down to give the man the time to collect himself. Caled unfastened the cords binding the tightly wrapped collection and offered a few luxurious sections to the neko. Just holding them in his arms made the neko sigh in pleasure he hadn't known for longer than he could recall.

He curled in the straw a few yards away from the trapper, settling the warmth over his bare legs and torso, sighing at the feeling of ease that seeped over him, the looming threat of rape, degradation, pain and shame across the yard and inside the cabin for the night.

He listened to the trapper grunt in discomfort as he sought to find an easy position. And perhaps it was his own sense of ease - - a feeling long absent - - that prompted him to tentatively speak.

"The liniment they lent you works as well to sooth the aches of man as it does of beast."

He'd seen the woodsmen use the pungent stuff upon themselves when aches and pains tormented them, though they'd never thought to offer any to the neko for the hurts they inflicted.

The trapper cast him a dark look, displeased with the offer or perhaps simply unsettled that the neko suspected his injury. Certainly no lone man or neko roaming alone in his respective world would eagerly display weakness when in the company of strangers.

The neko flinched a little at the glare though, the worry that he'd overstepped his bounds churning like acid in his stomach, until the trapper turned back around, attempting to settle again. For a long while, there were only the sounds of the horses shifting or rooting in the straw, or that of the trapper turning occasional seeking after comfort and not finding it. The neko roamed closer to sleep.

But the movement of the trapper roused him, and he watched warily through slitted eyes as the man pushed himself up with effort.

"All right," Caled said gruffly, as if it some bitter brew had passed his lips.

The neko rose, crawling over as the trapper found the bottle of liniment and a somewhat clean scrap of cloth. He handed them over with something of the look a man might use when handing over a weapon hilt first and not knowing if it might be turned against him, then he turned his back to the neko and lifted his shirt.

There was a large purpling bruise along the man's back and left side that radiated heat when the neko tentatively touched it with liniment slick fingers. The man's torso was surprisingly lean under the bulk of his clothing, skin a pale gold a shade or two lighter than the exposed flesh of his face and hands. And clean.

The neko was used to the flesh of the woodsmen, who during the winter months only bathed occasionally and often smelled worse than old King. This man smelled - - good. Like evergreen and leather and the clean scent of man who had a care for his own grooming. To a neko, who's sense of smell was far more sensitive than that of a human man, it was a pleasing change.

"How old are you, Dharsha?" the trapper asked softly, enduring the working of strong liniment into his bruised flesh.

Dharsha. That was his name. So strange to hear it spoken. How old was he? He wasn't entirely sure anymore. He had been barely out of the care of his sisters when he'd been taken. Too young to have found his place in the family - - too young to discover what maturity would bring him - - acceptance into the ranks of the wise men and artisans or cycles of outcast as a young warrior male seeking to make a name for himself, before the family took him back.

He felt something lodge in his throat thinking of what might have been - - thinking of home and family and warmth.

"Sixteen - - when I was taken. I don't - - I don't know how long I have been here in your lands. Many seasons, I think."

The trapper said nothing, sitting cross-legged, with shoulders hunched as he let the neko - - let Dharsha - - tend to bruised flesh.

Almost, Dharsha was reluctant to move his hands away, the trapper's unthreatening quiet, the smooth feel of a body more eloquently put together than those he was used to seeing, stirring something more like regret than longing, within.

In a day when this stranger was gone, Dharsha would remember and it would make life all the more terrible.

He wiped his hands in the straw, careful not to transfer liniment to valuable pelts, then shuffled back to the little nest he had made for himself. Caled watched him for a moment, startling blue eyes under a dark fringe of lashes, then he settled into his own bedding without further word.

This time around, sleep came harder for the neko. Dharsha had never before fantasized about a man - - oh, he'd had nightmares about them, about the terrible things these human men might do to him that might make the things already done seem mild - - but never had he lain awake and dwelled upon how it might feel to lay under the weight of a man not intent on hurting him. How he might like willingly opening the trousers of this particular man and taking what lay beneath in his hands and mouth. He felt certain, that like the rest of him, it would be clean and well proportioned. He would very much like to hear this man's moans and grunts of pleasure as he took relief in Dharsha's body.

His cock, which had been quiescent for so very long, hardly even rising of its own accord anymore at the cusp of sleep and wakefulness, stirred. He stilled in shock, afraid to move and encourage it to greater attention.

Perhaps the fantasizing was made more vivid by the very fact that the trapper held no interest in using him that way and Dharsha felt his cheeks color marginally as he shifted uncomfortably in his furs, in embarrassment over his own unprecedented emotions the resulting physical response. He took long breathes, reminding himself of Karl's dire threat of castration should he catch the neko in the act of self-pleasure. It was enough to make the swelling recede and once again his organ lay soft and small along his thigh.

He shut his eyes and pressed his face into the soft fur of a pelt, shuddering and trying to force sleep. If he got no rest tonight, tomorrow would be a long day, for most certainly the woodsmen would expect more of him to sate desires that had gone unquenched tonight.