Chapter 10: Law and Order

When Mistress H stepped through the cell block doors, Maya rose from Khukri’s side to meet her. “It’s time,” Khukri whispered, slowing her breathing as she turned to Annah, who’d kept Khukri company while the final preparations were made. “It’ll be fine right? When the season ends...”

“It’ll be fine.” Annah set a hand on Khukri’s back with a reassuring smile. “This is what we’re made for. When the season’s over, we’ll all end up back here telling stories while we wait out the summer. Same as always.”

“It’ll be fine,” Khukri repeated, confidence growing. She’d gone most of her life without Maya’s pack to look after her; how hard could it be to keep calm for three months? There was a chance she could even join her master’s strike team and show her new Whip what she could really do. With a resolved nod, Khukri pushed to her feet, stepping forward to meet Maya at her cell door.

“You be good, hear? Don’t you go giving your new Whip a hard time.” Maya gave a warm smile, holding up two half-circles of steel, one with words engraved across the front, and the other with a series of numbers.

Khukri took the pieces, turning them to get one last look, then set the numbered one across the back of her neck and pushed the other across her throat until they clicked. After a few sharp tugs to ensure it was secure, she let go. “What’s it say?”

Maya turned, leading Khukri from the cell. “Lord Ruari. According to Mistress H he’s royalty from that deer kingdom down south. Whether he actually is? Who can say?”

With a final fleeting look to Annah, Khukri joined Mistress H and Maya on their way to the lobby. Royalty? From what little Khukri knew of politics, that didn’t make sense. Tythic royalty and the Direwood Syndicate hated each other, going so far as to ban syndicate representatives in their country. Then again, if Ruari... Khukri closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on burning the correction into her mind. Then again, if Master wanted to be treated like royalty, that was her job.

As they approached the lobby doors, Maya turned, folding one arm around Khukri and pulling her close. A moment later she stepped back, mouth tipped into a half-smile. “Have a good season, Khukri, and don’t you pick up any bad habits, no matter who you end up running with.”

Khukri nodded, stifling her nerves before presenting herself to Mistress H, who checked the collar was properly secured. When they strode through the lobby doors, Master stood from the waiting bench and smoothed his shirt.

“Thank you for waiting, Sir.” Mistress H gave a slight bow, then handed over a set of papers she produced from the folds of her dress. “Everything’s been taken care of. This is your copy of the transaction, as well as proof of ownership. Bring these with you if you decide to resell, and we’ll repay two-thirds her market value, provided she’s in good condition.”

Master took the sheets, glancing through them before nodding politely. “Thank you, Miss. Let’s go, Khukri.”

In the twilight, the outpost slowed to a crawl. It was too late for wagons to deliver or send supplies, and too early for hunting packs to return. While stores closed down, bars and entertainment opened for the night, flooding pockets of the peaceful lull in gaslight. Men returned to their camps after work, stoking crackling campfires to flourish with the sounds and smells of cooking sausages. Even some deer started fires, despite not needing their food cooked, and dry wood’s exorbitant costs. It was the time of night her pack locked themselves away, at least when they weren’t delivering a fresh kill.

The new Whip wasn’t outside either, leaving Khukri to escort her new owner alone.

After fifty feet of silence, Master rolled his head back, sighing toward the mist. “There’s a lot we need to go over, but first I need to know something. If it’s between me and someone with authority, what’re you supposed to do? Like, if I break the law, are you supposed to report it to security?”

Khukri swallowed, unsure if it was a worse sign that someone claiming to be royalty defined himself and ‘someone with authority’ as separate, or that he had a lot to discuss with her personally, instead of letting his Whip handle it. “An owner’s orders are the highest authority,” she assured. “You have my undivided loyalty.”

Master nodded, crossing the road to avoid a group of men leaning against a bar. “Okay.” There was hesitancy in his voice now, fracturing the confidence he’d shown at the inspection. “Okay. The short version is: I’m in a lot of trouble, and without help, I’m not leaving the Direwood alive.”

Her tongue felt thick and heavy as she numbly followed the decidedly unroyal deer, wondering exactly what she’d been dragged into.

“I figure we could help each other.” Master dropped back the half-step so he walked by her side. “I’ll be making my way to Sibir, if I live through the winter. If you help, I can return you to your homeland a free woman.”

Khukri’s neck involuntarily twitched to stare at him. No one should have been able to compress that much stupidity into such a small sentence. Her mouth worked soundlessly, grinding her training and etiquette down as she wrestled the impulse to scream. “You can’t - wolves can’t be freed. We need structure to fit into civilized society, without something to hold us back, we’ll go feral.”

Master stopped, eyes narrowing in confusion as he gave her his full attention. “What about the wolves in your home?”

This was it. She was going to be the first wolf to go feral five minutes after being sold and kill her Master without even meeting her Whip. “Sibir isn’t my home, I grew up in a warehouse in the Dusk Empire until my training in the Othelan Confederacy. I...” She took a deep, calming breath, soothing her nerves before doing something she’d regret. “I’m sorry. Maybe we should have this conversation after I’ve met your Whip?”

He groaned, resuming his pace as they turned down a street away from the buildings. Without gaslight, the small dirt roads lost their detail, turning into grey blurs as her eyes adapted to detecting movement in the dark. “Why is everyone so obsessed with that? I need your help, I’m not about to whip you.”

Khukri’s fur raised as a creeping dread sunk through her. “Not a whip, a Whip.” It was only after speaking it that she realized how unhelpful the title was to outsiders. “...a girl, I mean, your head slave. The one that maintains order in your pack.”

As they approached a long stained wall of cotton sheets, a dog-girl in leather armour wearing a long navy coat with the Direwood Exchange’s symbol on the sleeve looked up from her chair. A nervous look crossed her face as she stood, blocking the gap between sheets and eyeing Khukri with suspicion. Master raised a paper, which the guard glanced at before she waved them through, wary gaze falling back to Khukri.

“It’s just us, Khukri.”

A jolt raced through her blood as the air grew heavy, threatening to drown her on dry land. Before she could think, she’d grabbed Master’s shoulder, burying fingers in his cloak as she yanked him around to face her. “We have to go back! I could go feral!”

For a moment, terror flashed across his face. His gasp was soft, unnaturally so, and as she watched his expression shifted, melting into resigned confidence. An act, she realized, the one he’d shown Mistress H. One convincing enough she might not have recognized the change had her night eyes been less keen. “There’s no going back. Without you, I’m as good as dead.”

A sound from behind caught Khukri’s attention, causing her to look back to the gap in the sheets. The guard stood, staring her down defiantly with her own hand on the pommel of a sabre, a half foot of steel gleaming from beneath her coat. This world had no place for wolves that couldn’t handle their emotions. She couldn’t panic; couldn’t forget the order, no matter how flimsy.

Khukri released Master, raising her hands and lowering her eyes. “I’m sorry, Master.”

He gently cupped her shoulder, guiding her forward until he was between her and the blade. “We’re okay,” the deer assured, watching the guard as he pushed Khukri down the row of cotton walls dotted with numbered curtains before finally pushing her through one.

The fabric parted, revealing a square canvas tent the size of four cells. It was white, or likely had been, before years of rain, dirt, and sun left it a muddy yellow. The cotton walls surrounding it also formed a square, giving ample room for an entire pack to prepare for hunts, but the constant use had decimated the vegetation and left barren mud. The only other feature of note was a large ring of stones, piled three high and filled with damp charcoal, unused long enough she could barely notice its scent. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, “but I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t doubt you could kill me,” Master said, taking a soft placating tone. “But however dangerous you think you are, you’re not the biggest threat to me right now. I know, for a fact, wolves can get along just fine without some ridgid hierarchy to follow.”

The tone should’ve upset her, with how close it came to patronizing. It was as false as the confidence he showed, a calculated way of speaking to put her at ease, but with how stressful the last few minutes were, it was enough to know he was willing to deescalate the situation. “How can you be sure?”

“Issue sixty-three.”

Her ears perked up, curiosity driving her to look into his eyes for the first time since she’d grabbed him. “What?”

He shook his head dismissively. “Never mind. For now, name your price. If it’s not freedom you want, what is it?”

It was a direct question, and she was duty-bound to answer, despite the absurdity of asking a slave her price for cooperation. “I just want to keep my premium status and return to my pack.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Okay.” He patted her back, moving them towards the tent. “You get me out of this alive and I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. If you change your mind, talk to me, and we’ll work it out.” He pulled the tent flap aside and ushered her in. “It’s been a stressful day, and it’s late. Why don’t you get some rest and we can discuss it tomorrow?”

She nodded, getting a look at her new home. It wasn’t what she’d expected when told she’d be serving royalty, not that she’d complain. In the back corner was Master’s bedroll, a type popular among workers and free hunters due to its durability and water resistance. The other corner held a worn cart stacked with Master’s possessions. Wooden crates rose above her head, forming a pile so big they’d block the sight of anyone pushing it. The tent’s front half was filled with firewood, both bundles of dried sticks for kindling, and the thick logs Mistress H sent over while preparing her for the sale, moved indoors to keep dry.

Khukri's gaze swept over everything, then returned to repeat the process. The thrum of her heart quickened, forcing her to swallow as she moved inside, checking once more to see if she’d missed something. Finally, she turned to Master, who was noisily fishing through a crate filled with iron tools. “Master? Do I not get a cage?”

The metal clacking stopped as Master rose, shouldering a strange axe with a flattened back end. The weapon was far too heavy to be practical, but perhaps deer axes were all overly heavy to utilize deer-girls’ enhanced strength. “You don’t need a cage; I’ve shared a room with girls before.”

“B-but where’s my area to do things? Like sleep, or maintain my armor?”

Master only seemed confused, giving his tent a long look. “Um, the bedroll there’s for sleeping, use whatever space you want for the rest. As long as it’s within the campsite.”

No, that wasn’t how this worked. Owners assigned their hunting dogs a space, it enforced order. Without clearly defined boundaries, the line between civil society and the wild blurred. When he turned to leave, she reached out again before remembering herself and pulling back with a whine. Khukri braced for reproach, but Master only turned, watching her warily. “Should we find somewhere to secure me at night? If I turn feral-”

Master sighed, raising a hand to silence her. His lips tensed as his gaze swept over her before finally nodding and extending a hand. “Ok. Let’s try this, give me the big knife.”

Khukri drew the weapon, spinning it on her palm to present to him.

“Ok, so. Oh wow...That’s a really high-quality piece.” He ran a thumb across the blade, then gave the air a few chops before remembering her. “Right. Now I’m armed, awake, and looking right at you. If you went feral, right this second, and I knew it was coming, how’d I do?”

She swallowed, assessing him despite knowing the answer. He had a fair amount of muscle, but based on the way he held the weapon, he was untrained, and worse, unwilling to use it. More importantly, he was a man, so his speed and reaction time were inherently low. Without the order to keep her sane? “Disarmed in two seconds, dead in three,” she admitted, lowering her head.

“Well then.” Master smiled, returning the blade with two fingers. “Unless I plan on keeping you locked up permenantly, I think maybe I’ll keep my only line of defence capable of defending me. Now, I’ll be outside. When you’re ready for bed, call me.”

“Yes, Master.” The blade felt heavier in Khukri's hands now. No, this was good. Master finally gave a command: prepare for bed, and call him. When she’d realized her owner would be male this time, she’d considered this possibility, although she hadn’t expected it to be her first order. Still, if he forced her to satisfy him carnally, at least it clearly defined him as the one in charge, instead of pretending they cooperated as equals. She’d gone her whole life without killing anyone. No matter how weak Master was, so long as someone was above her in the order, she could last the season without going mad. Right now she needed to focus on the job, despite the flexible timetable.

The buckles clicked, letting the leather slide off easily. This would be her first time, but that didn’t mean she was in the dark. It was an endless source of gossip among the pack, especially when they went into heat in the spring and fall. Male owners tended towards three groups. The first were here for money. They saw hunting dogs as tools for profit. These men worked their slaves hard, but never touched them, probably because hunting slaves weren’t spayed the way sex slaves were, and impregnating them tanked their resale value. The second were romantic, they’d choose a girl from the pack for special treatment. Since their owner would be more inclined to listen to the chosen girl, she was expected to extract favours for the pack as needed, like more food or rest. The third took this time as a break from their normal lives. Those men hunted the least, but could sleep with every hunter a dozen times over the season, likely after having themselves neutered.

Master clearly wasn’t a professional, and she was his only hunter, so this wasn’t unexpected. Luckily, Master wasn’t a species that could impregnate her, so there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. Her packmates all said it wasn’t difficult, usually didn’t last long, and the sick feeling in her stomach would stop after she’d done it a few times.

Thumps behind the tent perked her ears, leaving Khukri only now wondering why Master needed alone time with his axe. The thumps continued rhythmically, each followed by a soft scraping noise. Dirt. He was attacking the dirt, changing locations slightly with each swing. Another oddity of her new owner, but if he wanted her to understand, he wouldn’t have confined her.

Hesitantly, Khukri moved away from the noise, focusing on her own problems. The armour needed to be hung, but without a cage or hooks, she had no assigned place for it. There weren’t many options, aside from the obvious answer of borrowing a wooden crate. Was she allowed that? With the way he’d blurred the order, she wasn’t sure whether or not his personal items were off-limits. Maybe it was worth a look. If she could glean some information from Master’s things she might learn what he expected, or what ‘snow’ was and why not knowing caused him to buy her.

The lid came off the first crate easily, but it was already full. The bizarre collection held something she’d never seen before. Books. Her thumb brushed the spines, examining them as she estimated more than fifty. They meant nothing to her, aside from the novelty of seeing a new thing of course. Hunters didn’t need to read. The question was, why did Master have so many, and why would he bring them to The Direwood? Was he some sort of scholar?

The spines each had a number, and since all the single-digit books were clustered at the left, each book likely increased its number by one as they moved right. Not a collection of random books then, but a series of connected works; maybe an encyclopedia or an organization system for notes Master took himself? She carefully slid the first book from the box to get a closer look.

Her blood ran cold. Every book’s cover had a picture, and the first one alone made it clear what these were. An arctic wolf snarled at her from a mountain covered in white moss, flanked on either side by similar wolves baring their teeth in challenge. The picture shook in her trembling hands as she saw their bare necks. The only thing resembling a collar was the metal circle around the most prominent one’s head. A crown. A crown! This wolf was an unchained leader, and the girls behind her were her pack.

The book slipped from numb fingers, bouncing off the rest before she hastily repositioned it and sealed the lid. These had to be historical texts detailing the wolves' savage history, before they’d been enslaved and civilized. Such texts were forbidden; even touching them risked infecting her with unsafe ideas. She pressed tighter on the lid, struggling to calm her breathing. It was okay, she hadn’t gone feral, and no one needed to know about her transgression. But why? Why did Master have forbidden texts?

She shook her head, opting to stash her armour behind the firewood rather than risk opening another box. Master was a deer, a naturally civil species. For him, there was no risk of poisoning his mind, and no one had the authority to forbid him from it. The only danger came from keeping such things close to her, something a cage and proper orders would’ve fixed.

Order needed to be re-established, immediately. Her breath steadied as she crouched in the corner, tucking her tail between her legs and curling up as she slipped fingers between her thighs. One thing all the girls agreed on was, you didn’t want to be dry when your owner used you. Her two clawed fingers rested beside her pussy while the smaller two slid between her lips and toyed with her clit. For a few strokes she focused on keeping her breathing regular so the rest of the pack...

Khukri stopped, raising her head to the vast, empty tent. There was no pack. For the first time in her life, she was alone, truly alone. Premium hunters got their own cells, but they shared a room with thirteen other girls with ears and noses trained to pick things up. They’d still masturbate, especially when they went into heat, but they’d do it quietly, and everyone pretended not to notice.

The soft bedroll cushioned her as she lay back, shivering from the awkward nature of exposing herself the way she never could with her pack around. Curiously, she curled, moving her head between her spread legs and pressing her maw into her pussy. Her tongue darted out, experimentally running along her clit before pulling back, shaking as a wave of goosebumps spread through her. That was new and strange. Without anyone to judge her, Khukri pushed back in, licking faster as she explored herself. Each time her pussy lips would part, caressed by soft, strong muscle as she enveloped her clit, releasing slow rolling waves of pleasure with each stroke.

Her hips unconsciously rocked against her mouth as her arousal grew, sending an ache through her back as she struggled to maintain the position. Finally, she unrolled, setting her head on the bedroll and pushing back to a more familiar position. Her slick fingers slid past the damp fur, dipping into her entrance once before eagerly returning to her clit.

A small gasp escaped as she pulled back. With all the excitement she’d nearly forgotten why she’d started. “Master!” she called, hastily wiping her excitement on her thigh. “I’m ready.”

The digging stopped, and his footsteps padded around the tent before he breached the entrance. His body went rigid, eyes darting hungrily over her as he swallowed. When he stepped inside he looked away, folding his arms. “So I… that armour is all you have to wear, isn’t it? Do owners provide clothing or...”

He’d forgotten his act again, and was obviously enjoying the view. Good. “It’s considered rude not to clothe your hunting dogs in public, so we wear our armour. In private we remain unarmoured, for comfort. You can, of course, dress me in anything that makes you happy.”

“Right,” Master said, collecting himself and approaching her. He gently knelt at her side with a nervous breath. “Khukri, I know this is strange, but would you mind closing your eyes and letting me touch you before you sleep?”

A strange request indeed! How would she handle the terrible shock? Khukri hid her twisting stomach behind an inviting smile; she lay back, folding her hands behind her head as her eyes shut. A moment later his hand pressed against her stomach. The nervous roiling in her intensified as warmth spread from his fingers across her whole body, then he let go.

“Thank you,” he said, standing up. “Sleep tight, Khukri.”

By the time she opened her eyes, he was gone. That was it? He wanted to touch her stomach? That wasn’t a thing. Even the weirdest kinks the other girls described involved… something. Anything. The digging resumed, signaling he really wasn’t coming back. With a confused grumble, she crawled from his bedroll to a spot next to the firewood, searching for something to dry herself.

Eventually, Khukri curled up on the floor, focusing on the sound of Master’s battle with the dirt. Each thunk signaled he was still safe, and still not ready for bed. She relaxed to the sound, a consistently calming presence on the edge of her thoughts as she drifted in and out. Her ears perked as the sound stopped, but lowered when the tent flap next opened and Master slipped inside.

“Khukri?”

She opened her eyes again, realizing now it might be too dark for him to see. “Do you need me, Master?”

He knelt, gently threading his arms under her knees and head, then lifted her into the air. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You accidentally rolled out of bed. That’s all.”

Was she supposed to wait? For how long? “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, the strange sensation of being carried clashing with the irritation at having her duties so poorly explained.

“Shhh,” he said, grinning at her now that he thought she couldn’t see. “Go back to sleep.” He gently set her on the bedroll, then retreated to where she’d been. Curiosity piqued, Khukri watched Master fumble in the dark to gather spare clothing from a crate into a nest. Minutes later he let out a soft snore. It was like he was racing to fuck up the order and get them both killed. Khukri lowered her head in resignation, sliding her eyes shut. Tomorrow. She’d find a way to reestablish the order tomorrow.