Jahaliya Ch. 06

"I'll 'referee', as you say," Lydra explained when Robin threw a questioning but polite glance her way. "I will ensure that all runs smoothly and we create enough energy for..."

She trailed off. The utterance did not truly warrant completion - everyone knew why they were there. The mattress and platform ascended smoothly with reluctant and eager furs on board, leaving only the Oracle to observe from the cave entrance and the harem to dart about, taking places that would allow the illusion to be formed with the greatest ease.

"And so, the healing begins," the Oracle whispered in a hushed tone as the illusion cave fell into darkness and the fantasy specific illusions, fuelled by the combined thoughts of John and Horace, began to take place.

A new land formed as the magic of the illusion cave wove their fantasies into reality. A castle stood on a cliff high above the village, staring sternly down upon the peasants and village-folk with a blank, unforgiving eye. The stones were worn away by the elements and coated in rich moss and lichen, but it was in a better state than the village, which consisted of decrepit cottages with slanting roofs and badly hung doors; only those belonging to the most well off were graced with dirty windows to keep out the bitterly cold wind.

Horace and John stood on the dirt road entering the village, blinking rapidly as they tried to take in everything at once. Horace rolled his shoulders, dressed as he was in elaborate silver armour that meshed together seamlessly, but left his crotch bare and, to a watching female's eye, inviting. John was similarly attired in a simpler version of the bear's armour with a metal plate over his crotch that suggested that it could be easily removed, if so desired: John wouldn't be left out of the fun if he had any say in the matter! Shivering from her position high up on the narrow platform, Lydra spoke loudly and clearly, her voice amplified so that it rang around the room like that of one narrating a film.

"The knight, Sir Fuckalot, and his squire, Yvain, reached the village after a wearying journey, a quest to discover glory and pleasure," she recited, half-closing her eyes and allowing the magic and their fantasies to guide her lips. "Their horses were long lost to beasts of the wilderness with Sir Fuckalot and his squire barely making it to this scant refuge alive. Alas, to their misfortune, the village appeared devoid of life and sustenance."

"Sir Fuckalot?" John smirked and jabbed Horace in the ribs.

"Don't laugh!" Horace hissed, although he was biting back a grin. "Lydra suggested it."

"She would."

"And why did you go with Yvain?" Horace muttered, more out of curiosity than in any attempt to 'get back' at John; the mouse shrugged, whiskers twitching.

"He was a brave knight from a story that stuck with me, though he had a lion and not a bear with him. Let's get going, we don't have all the time in the world for this."

Edging cautiously into the village itself, Horace hefted his shield bravely and called that whoever was hiding in the cottages should not be afraid. As if on cue, the harem girls peeked around corners of buildings and sagging doorframes, playing their parts as the frightened villagers; every single one of them was dressed from head to toe in a variety of period dresses and not an ankle was uncovered. Eventually deciding that these strange males were no threat to them, they returned to their business of the day, some struggling to mend the cottages and others toiling away in the scant fields, wiping sweat from their brows. Robin was amongst them and was trying to tend to a flock of geese that the illusion had conjured, scattering seed amongst them and squealing as they honked ill-temperedly at her, as geese are prone to do.

"This is terrible," John said lowly, acting as if he was horrified at the conditions these ladies were forced to work in. "Is there no protector up at the castle?

"We shall soon find out," Horace replied grimly.

It was a long trek up to the castle and John caught himself wondering more than once how on earth the entire illusion could be contained by the cave but he did not dwell on it too much. There was a putrid stench rising from the outer walls of the castle and the two furs had to pinch their noses in order to gain access without violently emptying the contents of their stomachs. The courtyard was enclosed by high, stone walls and directed visiting furs to the foreboding pair of wooden double doors that looked as if it would take at least two strong furs to force it open under normal circumstances. However, these were no normal circumstances and the two males quickly found that the entrance was impassable and no amount of shoving, heaving or groaning would shift the wood from its grime encrusted resting place, swollen with damp.

"This is hopeless!" John growled, kicking a stone across the courtyard. "How are we supposed to do anything if we can't even get in?"

Horace sighed, privately agreeing with John. It had been part of his fantasy to locate a secret entrance into the castle but...he had not realised quite how difficult finding it would be. He pushed half-heartedly at the door again, aware that no energy that would help Ryoga was being produced from this endeavour.

Come on... He thought desperately, scanning his gaze around the courtyard and absently tapping the rectangular stones that made up the wall. It must be here somewhere.

And as if it had been waiting for him, a whisper of a breeze tugged and rustled at a wall of ivy, deceptively thick. Smiling widely, Horace ran his paws through it and felt cool air in the space behind the plant instead of an unyielding wall.

"Through here," Horace said, lifting the leaves to one side to reveal the dark tunnel."This is the way we go."

"Damned tricks," John muttered, ducking into the low tunnel with a groan of disgust.

"On with you, squire!" Horace pretended to grumble, stumbling into the passage after the nimbler mouse. "Enough of your talk."

Ahead of him, John stifled a grin.

There was a little light from a flickering brazier at the end of the short, dank tunnel, which merely served to lead them into a darker, carpeted corridor that sloped steeply upwards. Horace took the lead and hushed John when he was about to speak, pointing silently to a faint but sure blue glow. Tripping over their feet in the dark (uneven ground was always more difficult to navigate even at the best of times), the pair padded as quietly as possible along the corridor, which curved gently the left, all the while approaching that alluring azure light. But when they reached the room from which the light was emanating from, John scarcely had opportunity to take note of a gleaming jewel hanging without support in the centre of an eloquently furnished space before the light cut out and plunged them into sharp darkness.

"I can't see anything!" John muttered, feeling his way along the wall. "What's going on? I didn't think of this, did you? Horace? Horace!"

"Hang on," Horace whispered, groping blindly forward with his arms outstretched. "I think... I've found something."

The lights clicked on and Horace blinked. Sylvia stood solemnly before him, her hair falling in a regal mane over her shoulders and glistening as if it had been carefully oiled. There were hulking shapes shifting in his peripheral vision, but he was more concerned with the statuesque beauty within arm's reach. Literally within arm's reach as, in the confusion of the dark, he had grabbed hold of her large breasts, her nipples pressing against the palms of his paws. Slightly abashed, he grinned like a boy that had been caught in a disallowed act and released her, his eyes following their gentle bounce. His sweet reprieve was short lived, however, as the dark shapes around John and him closed in, grunting like animals.

"Watch out!" John shouted, diving to the side as the first ogre charged forward, swinging a mace wildly.

Horace snapped back to reality and tumbled sideways, following John's lead and snatching his broad sword from its sheath. He deflected the next blow from the massive, wide-set ogre with gaps where yellowing teeth should have been and roared challengingly, charging into their midst and swinging his blade with skill that only comes with years of honing. One ogre fell to the ground, blood gushing from a wound in his stomach and vanished, then another and another, each falling to Horace's blade and John's crafty dagger. In a matter of heated minutes, only one brute remained, growling and snarling gibberish at Horace as he advanced, hefting an obscenely large, unwieldy sword in his left hand.

Horace set his stance and waited for the ogre to come to him, charging forward and shaking the floor. Time seemed to slow as adrenaline pumped through his veins and he breathed out sharply, letting the ogre's blade slide through the gap between his body and arm, trapping the flat of it there as he smote the beast in the heart. The creature crumbled to the floor and moaned out his life blood before disappearing like the rest, leaving only Sylvia cowering against the far wall, her eyes wide with fear. With no guards to defend her, she looked shockingly vulnerable but, then again, she was an excellent actress.

Roaring passionately, Horace dove at Sylvia and ripped open her skirt, tearing the unidentifiable top away from her body though her breasts were already exposed (had she been dressing herself when they had barged in?). Shrieking, the lioness fled from his groping paws and on to an open balcony adjacent to what seemed to be the entrance chamber to her private quarters in the castle. Holding back a chuckle - it wouldn't do for the illusion - Horace bounded after her with mock-ferocious growl, too focused on the glimpses of her tawny body to pay heed to the rich furnishings gracing the balcony. Sylvia dashed to the foot of a purple bulbous 'bed' that was piled high with dyed wool blankets and stopped dead, looking wildly from side to side as if she didn't know where to go next. There were no other exits from the balcony. Horace grabbed the lioness around the waist and thrust her muzzle down into the blankets while she strived not to wriggle in gleeful anticipation. Growling, Horace pressed her thrashing tail up and shoved his hard cock into her cunny, driving it in to the hilt as she mewed beneath his powerful form.

Mouth agape, John rushed to their side and removed Horace's plate armour piece by piece, something that he struggled with as Horace was constantly in motion, pounding Sylvia's pussy as if he had been denied orgasm for weeks and had had promiscuous females parading through his thoughts for months on end. The bear leaned down and nuzzled the back of Sylvia's neck through her mane of sex-tossed hair, nipping and licking at the exposed fur until she squealed with delight. His cock stroked her sensitive passage and she snaked her tail around his thigh, her muzzle lolling open in ecstasy.

"Ohhhh," she moaned lustfully, writhing and getting her paws under her chest to push back as Horace thrust forward. "More, more, please! Please - fuck me!"

Pulling out suddenly, the bear flipped Sylvia on to her back and tugged her legs up around his waist, sliding his cock into her pussy, which fit his member like a glove. She howled and clung on to him like a wildcat, reaching down between her spread thighs to rub her clit under she came with a gasp of delight, Horace giving a low rumble of pleasure.

"Ohh," she murmured softly, coming down from her high with a throaty purr.

"Your mighty strength and cock have freed me from oppression," she continued, slipping off her sleeping mattress to her knees in front of Horace, taking his bobbing cock in her paw. "However could I thank you for such a heroic deed?"

The bear knight had no words for that and only moaned, breathing heavily as Sylvia stroked his dick teasingly, licking her lips as if she wanted to swallow it whole - if he was lucky!

"But my vassals need to be cured too," she hissed, running her tongue up the underside of Horace's cock. "Will you cure them for me? They are held back, bound, sexually and those clothes they wear... They need to be healed, healed by you."

"Mm," Horace said, not in full control of his senses with a beautiful lioness lapping at his cock. "Perhaps I should stay here, with you, my lady, and my squire may have the honour of freeing your people from their chains?"

"Oh, yes..." She giggled lightly, looking up at the bear with wide, eager eyes. "But how will he be able to do it all alone?"

"I'll show you."

Horace rested his paw on Sylvia's head, encouraging her to take him into her mouth, which she did with relish. The lioness' cheeks bulged with the size of his cock and he thrust lightly into the back of her throat, Sylvia swallowing skilfully to take more of his cock. She sucked him with wild abandon and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing every drop of pre cum that dripped on to her tongue. Curling her pink tongue around his dick, she felt a flow of energy circling her, swelling as Horace's arousal escalated. When it rose to a crescendo and Horace erupted in Sylvia's muzzle, John was suddenly invigorated with magical energy. His cock rose to full mast without any physical stimulation and he tilted towards Sylvia, wishing desperately that he could be in Horace's position.

"Ah...there..." Horace groaned, watching as John's squire clothes fell away, disintegrating into nothingness as the magic of the illusion cave took effect. "Now he will have enough stamina to fuck them all for you, my queen!"

John danced from foot to foot, his mind awash with horny thoughts. He hardly heard what Horace said or the giggles of Sylvia as she licked a drop of cum off her muzzle. He raced to the edge of the balcony and vaulted over the edge, daringly scaling the swathe of vines to drop safely to the grass outside the perimeter of the castle walls. The outer grounds of the castle on this side of the wall were an expanse of trimmed and well-kept gardens, although none of the flowers were in bloom. From further down the pale, gravel path that he stood on echoed the sound of crunching footsteps - some fur was running towards him!

It was Jessica. She was in a strange sort of dress that allowed her to jog freely, but the vixen kept glancing back over her shoulder fearfully as if she was afraid that someone was following her. Her breath came in terrible, laboured gasps and she appeared dead of her feet. Perfect prey for a mouse.

Jessica screamed as John launched himself at her, tackling her at the waist and bringing her to the ground. She shrieked and tried to flee but the mouse was too quick for her, shredding her awkward dress down the back to expose her shapely rump, russet tail waving. His cock was still hard from the magic up on the balcony and he thrust roughly into her sex, revelling in her unbidden moan. On their sides with Jess' back pressing against John's chest, he lifted her upper leg high and drove into her pussy with jackhammer like thrusts, reducing the busty vixen to a quivering, panting mass. Her escape attempts swiftly ceased and she rocked her hips with his, moaning and crying out for more.

"Oh, oh!" She yelped, her pussy contracting and rippling around his cock as she came, Jessica screwing her eyes tightly shut and letting out a strangled howl. "Fuck me!"

John pushed his head over her shoulder and licked her cheek, his fingers digging into her thigh and breast where he held her close, hammering into her sopping cunny until he spurted his seed into her, his balls feeling as if they were replenishing their load even as he spent it. The fox in his arms squirmed and slipped away from him when she was filled, winking to John and casting away the remains for her odd garment to leave her fully naked. Then, with little more than a saucy grin and a wave, she continued her jog barefoot and naked, her breasts bouncing delightfully as she ran.

Scrambling to his feet, John darted through the bushes with his cock hard and dripping pre cum as if from a faucet. Up ahead was a large building that looked to be in better condition that those that he had passed earlier with Horace, dimmed lights and murmured conversation coming from within. The mouse peeked in one of the windows and took in the scene: a tea social of some kind was taken place with some of the harem, including Robin who was attired in a beautiful but concealing jet black dress. They made pleasant, light talk as they drank and nibbled on sweet cakes but their expressions were gloomy and their eyes downcast.

The glass window was unlatched.

John leaped in through the window, startling the girls so that several tea cups crashed to the carpet, the contents wasted. Some froze in their seats while Robin and Eleanor fled deeper into the house, yelling fearfully.

"Who are you?" Natasha shrieked, making as if to dash away. "Get out of here! This is my father's mansion! You have no right to be here!"

"Oh, I have every right to be here," John smirked, dragging her to him with a pawful of her dress.

She was in a strapless dress and the top curve of her breasts swelled above the top - a treat too tempting for John to resist. Ignoring Natasha's weak protests (if limply prodding at his chest could be called a protest), he yanked the top of her emerald dress down to expose her gorgeous, full breasts and thrust her down to her knees, the carpet providing some relief for her knees. Shaking her head vigorously, Natasha crawled away but was dragged back into place by John who could not keep a wide grin off his muzzle. Sliding his pink cock between her breasts, he squeezing the furry orbs around his length, licking his lips as her nipples hardened to show her own arousal.

"Oh, please don't," she groaned, though made no move to get away from him and her paw crept between her legs. "What are you doing to me?"

He didn't answer but bucked his hips, pushing the tip of his cock into her mouth, which gaped open in shock. She made a muffled noise of protest and jerked her head away but John pushed down on the back of her head between her long ears to make her suck. Though her head was bent at an awkward angle, Natasha moaned and began to suckle his slick cock greedily, allowing him to thrust between her bouncing breasts without obstruction as she was 'cured'. Vivaciously, she ripped her dress from her frame and knelt in the pool of fine material, one paw cupping and squeezing John's heavy balls.

John rudely pulled away from her and grabbed the next nearest girl, Nell, and pushed her muzzle down across their tea table, dishes and cakes flying in all directions. She mewed plaintively and kicked back but he pinned her down, gathered up her dress and drove his cock into her pussy, drawing out a yelp from her as she wriggled and thrashed. The feline snarled and arched her back, fighting John until he spent his load deep within her cunny, subduing her at last. Nell panted and yowled, thrusting her rump back as if begging for more, her dress gathered up around her hips. Glancing back, John noticed that the only other left in the room was Corsi who 'cowered' against the wall, peeking at the proceedings from between her fingers.

"Last one," John laughed lightly, leaving Nell on the table though she was joined by Natasha who kissed her passionately upon the lips.

Corsi slid down the wall to the floor, silently shaking her head and 'hoping' in the act that he would leave her be, would look elsewhere. The mouse was having none of that, however, and dragged her bodily upright, tearing her dress off like Natasha had rid herself of her own garment, admiring how the ripped fabric offered him access and tantalising glimpses simultaneously. Corsi whimpered, obviously play-acting, and cried out as John's cock slipped into her warm cunny, slick with her sexual juices. He moaned and pounded her against the wall so that she was forced to turn her muzzle to the side, half-watching him over her should as tremors of pleasure wracked her body.