Chapter Nine

The barking of the dog woke Dharsha.

At first he thought it was old King until he realized he was in the barn and not the house, snuggled warm and comfortable under furs. It was the trapper's long legged, bristle furred dog that was making the racket, stiff legged at the barn door.

The neko started, awareness coming rapidly as soon as wakefulness was upon him. The light of morning seeped through the cracks between boards and his sensitive hearing picked up the crunch of footsteps outside, and the answering bark from within the house of the woodcutters dog.

The trapper himself was marginally slower waking, a bundled form under his pelts, and Dharsha had shed his own borrowed furs and was at the door in expectation before the man had pushed himself up. The neko pushed carefully past the dog and opened the barn door stepping out into the frigid morning. He spoiled, no doubt, the fun of Sven and Bo, who'd tromped down from the house with the expectation of rudely rousing him. Perhaps they'd expected to catch the trapper using him.

"Did you think you'd get out of morning chores, slut?" Sven snarled, somewhat put out by his aborted attempt at intrusion. "Get to the damned house." He thrust out an arm in that direction and Dharsha meekly crept by him towards the cabin. He heard the trapper behind him, quietly telling his dog to hush and Sven lingered to exchange a few words that Dharsha imagined consisted of leering comments and questions about his performance. He flattened his ears a little - - amazed that he could still feel embarrassment.

Bo caught his arm before he could ascend the steps, swinging him about roughly. "Wash first, dirty cat. You think you're welcome in the house with the stench of a stranger on your skin?"

He shoved Dharsha into the drift of snow by the porch. The water in the trough was frozen through and through, so there was nothing to do but scrub handfuls of snow across his skin. He didn't hesitate, shivering and numb by the time he'd finished.

"Get between your legs real well," Sven directed, having come up to stand beside Bo to watch. He had, but he scooped up another handful and pressed it against his shrunken genitals. They laughed at that, at the blue tinge of his frozen sack, and though Dharsha didn't see, he felt in his gut that the trapper observed his ordeal from the barn.

Sven pulled him up, finally and half dragged him up the steps. The neko's feet had no feeling, nor his hands. He stumbled to the floor and tried to draw his limbs in to conserve warmth, but a boot toe to the fleshy part of his buttocks propelled him forward. He crawled, prodded by the same boot into the room, where Karl was just pulling on socks and boots in his chair by the fire.

Dharsha crawled to kneel at his feet, for Karl was always first to be serviced and waited for the signal.

"Were you an obedient slave? Did you serve the trapper well?" Karl asked and the neko blinked, not used to being asked something that required a verbal response.

He nodded, not meeting Karl's eyes. Karl did not like it when the neko met his eyes.

"Good." Karl tapped his crotch and the neko leaned forward, unbuttoning trousers and pulling out the placid cock. He worked it to fullness soon enough, and knelt with his head buried between Karl's thighs, mouth full of Karl's thick organ, while the woodcutters went about morning rituals. They talked about the trapper and what a man likely down from a season alone in the mountains might have done to relieve sexual tensions. They speculated about the worth of his remaining furs, and what other riches he might have if he'd already sold a portion of his wares. There were a few trading posts, after all, between here and the highlands.

The twins wanted the neko's ass, and he bent over the edge of his cage while they rigorously used it, one then the other in quick succession.

"Did you see any gold?" Sven asked later, while the neko sat on his lap, riding his thick cock. Sven's big fingers idly pulled and twisted the neko's nipples, mashing tender flesh between callused finger pads. The neko whimpered and shook his head.

"He wouldn't leave it out where the little bitch could see." Olaf said. "If he's got it, it's hidden away."

"Hell, the furs he traded us were the poorest of the lot. The pile he has is worth the gold we'd make in two seasons. There were mercelot pelts in his stock, did you see?"

They contemplated the wealth in another man's possession while they whiled the morning away, entertaining themselves now and then with the neko's body or the neko's torment. The torments were not particularly creative though, given the distraction and Dharsha suffered them easily enough, in-between his various daily chores.

The trapper did not come to the cabin, though the neko saw him through the window standing with the dog beyond the barn, staring into the trees in the direction Dharsha thought the city he had come from with the lady lay.

Karl and Sven went out once to speak with him in the afternoon and came back stomping snow and mud off their boots. Dharsha hurried to clean the floor after them, then scurried towards the fire when Karl beckoned to kneel before him and pull off the dirty boots. He did the same with Sven and slunk off to clean the boots before they could think of other tasks for him.

They were preoccupied enough at the moment to ignore him.

"He plans to leave come first light." Karl said. "And take his pelts and his gold with him."

"We offer him our hospitality, our food, a hole to fuck and all we got was a few inferior pelts." Stein complained. They all nodded in agreement, indignant at the poor bargain, as though none of them recalled the praise from their very mouths about the quality of those same traded furs the day before.

"It ain't right," one of the twins groused. "That much wealth in the hands of one backwoods trapper, when we go without."

"It's not," His brother agreed, scowling.

Karl smiled coldly. "There's none that would miss a man that only ventures down from the highlands once or twice a year."

They considered, understanding dawning slowly on some of them, but meeting no resistance when it did. The neko shivered in his corner of the kitchen, hands clutching one bulky boot. They spoke of murder and theft as if it were their right. As if a man seeking help owed them his life and his profits for the generosity.

The neko laid his ears flat and scrubbed furiously at the caked mud in the soles of Karl's boot. He sat the boots quietly by the door and huddled with the kitchen table between him and them as they spoke of murder and robbery in the night. The horses would come in handy, but the dog would have to go the way of her master. They spoke of stripping a body bear and dragged it upslope where the winter predators would strip it down to the bone in a matter of a night.

They laughed, low and eager among themselves and the neko wondered if this were their first engagement with murder or if it were simply the enticement of riches that made them so gleeful about the prospect.

They sharpened their axes, a though human flesh might require a blade sharper than green wood, and as the afternoon wore on, their conversation grew less, their demeanor grimmer as light began to fall. They prepared for supper and Dharsha was sent outside to gather clean snow to melt for water. He clutched his bucket and crept out into the cold draped with the purple shadows of evening. He stared towards the barn, heart hammering in his chest, the lump in his throat so large he could barely swallow past it.

It was not right, what they planned, and the trapper had been kind to him. Had called him by his name. Dharsha took a shuddery breath and trudged out into the fringe of the forest past where untrodden snow might be found. As soon as he was in the shadow of the trees however, he darted around the edge of the clearing towards the little assembly of outbuildings.

There was the faint light of a lantern seeping out from the cracks of the barn, and when Dharsha skidded up to the smaller back door, he heard the patter of feet and the ominous growling of the dog. He hoped not so loud they heard up in the cabin.

"Hello? Hello?" He whispered, shifting from foot, to cold numbed foot urgently in the snow.

The neko's sharp hearing picked up the sound of a two-legged body moving up beside the dog. The unique scent of a particular man.

"What do you want?" A low voice asked through the door. It remained latched from within. A wary man, that might not be wary enough.

"They'll kill you tonight," Dharsha warned softly, past the fear that clogged his throat that made his knees tremble more than the cold, for if the trapper fled, they might suspect he had a hand in it. "Flee now, before they finish supper."

The trapper said nothing for a moment, then the door creaked open a crack and narrow blue eyes stared out at him. There was the glint of a hunting knife in the man's hand. The grey hound thrust her head out, wet nose sniffing the neko's thigh.

Dharsha stayed for a moment, searching for understanding in the trapper's eyes. When he found it, he darted back into the shelter of woods, running around the perimeter and scooping up what looked to be clean snow as he went.

"What took you so long, bitch?" Stein latched hold of his sensitive ear as he reentered the cabin, twisting cruelly. The neko whimpered, twisting and half crouching to alleviate the pain. He gestured at his cloth-covered crotch and the big man snorted, giving his ear one final tug before releasing him.

"Took a leak, did you, cat? Better not have been near the drinking water or I'll do more than box an ear."

The neko cast his eyes down meekly, and crept with his bucketful of snow to the hearth, where he sat it upon the stones to melt. Old King wandered over, black nose working furiously. He prodded the neko's upper thigh, where the trapper's dog had pressed her nose. The big dog whined deep in its throat, picking up the scent of a bitch. Dharsha shut his eyes, not daring to push the dog away in plain view of the woodsmen, and sat there as King salivated on his leg.

"Damn bitch outside has the old boy all excited." Sven remarked, from the kitchen. "What are you waiting for, slut, spread your cheeks and let the old dog take empty his sack in your belly."

The others laughed, low and tense, distracted from the usual pleasure they'd take from the neko's humiliation by the prospect of what they planned for the trapper.

Dharsha crawled a little ways from the hearth, where the rug would cushion his knees. He spread his knees wide and pressed his face and shoulders to the floor so he could reach back and separate his buttocks for easier entry. Ol' King knew exactly what to do, the scent of the female dog putting an edge to his eagerness.

Dharsha shut his eyes, grimacing at the scrape of claws on his back and upper arms as they dog mounted, at the slither of wet cock as it slid along his crack, prodding aimlessly until he reached and grasped it with his fingers and guided it to his cringing opening. A powerful stab and it slipped in, thick and blunt and pre-lubricated. The neko drew a gasping breath as it slid in, filling his bowls in one desperate stroke. It took a half dozen more before the knot wedged its way into him, locking them together, and then King was off, humping wildly, while his masters clattered about in the kitchen.

All the neko could hear was the rushing of his own blood and the growling pants of the dog. Saliva dripped down his neck, the dog's teeth grazing skin now and then as he became over excited and latched on, as if he feared his bitch might try and slip away.

The neko knew better. He simply braced himself on the carpet and tried to keep the dog's weight from crushing him to the floor.

It didn't take long for King to finish up. Dharsha felt the heat of the dog's seed as it began to flood his bowels. A little bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. When the dog pulled out, and padded off to lick his genitals clean, Dharsha carefully pushed himself up, come trickling warm and sticky down his legs. Three out of five sets of eyes were upon him, gleaming at the show, pants a little tented. He'd be under the table at supper servicing those soon enough. He crawled to his own cage for the time being, though, and used a scrap of rag to wipe leaking come away.

Dharsha spent most of the time under the table, trying to keep the trembling at bay. He imagined the trapper long gone, and the woodcutters storming into an empty barn. Their anger would be formidable. Even if they didn't suspect his hand in the abrupt departure, he'd still feel the brunt of their frustration.

He could hardly keep the scraps from supper down, contemplating it. The only bright spot was that they were too on edge to use him. When they finally did leave, axes in hand, faces taut with the looks of men off to precipitate bloodshed, they grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and forced him into his cage, locking him in, as if they expected he might interfere somehow or take the chance to flee into the cruel winter night while they were otherwise occupied. Whatever their reasoning, Dharsha huddled at the back of his cage, heart pounding so hard it hurt as they tromped out of the cabin and into the darkness.

He doubted he'd have long to wait until they returned and one way or another, he feared they might have blood on their hands that night.