Content warning for dubcon and (light) mind-break!

Zahrah's golden fur flickered in the firelight. She squirmed against the ropes, with her paws bound behind her head. Her tail flicked nervously.

The coyote had lived in the bandits' camp for months, now. Long enough for her belly to show, her breasts swelling with milk, as a half-coyote pup rounded out her womb.

Her captor's child.

(Not that he would remember. She's just another piece of merchandise to be traded and sold and used, now. Like all the rest.)

Zahrah didn’t even know the father's name. Zahrah barely remembered how she got here, either.

A raid, where she was captured getting water beyond the walls of her village. A seemingly endless journey tied up in the back of a wagon with other captives, blindfolded the whole way...

At the time, Zahrah had wondered — if her blindfold was removed, would she recognize any of her fellow prisoners? Were they from her village too: friends, family, neighbors? Or were they all strangers, trapped together, sharing the same fate?

Every so often, Zahrah was given food or water, or let out on a leash to do her business in the bushes. But mostly, Zahrah was ignored. As if she were simply a product to be transported, not a person. Utterly beneath notice.

But Zahrah did remember the first night at the camp, when all the captives were roughly dragged out of the wagon for inspection. Still blindfolded, Zahrah whimpered as paws roughly groped her tits, lifted her tail, spread her legs. As if they owned her, just checking her quality before she was sold to the highest bidder.

Two clawed finger-tips slipped inside her cunt, experimentally stretching her out.

“Tight…” a voice rumbled, sounding pleased. “Nice and fertile. She’s never had a litter before, I’d wager. This one will sell for a good price at the market.”

The bandits didn’t pin her down and take her in the dirt, despite how easy it would be.

That was the customer’s job.

Zahrah tried to fight back, of course. How could she not, even if she knew it was futile? She struggled to keep her legs closed, kicking and squirming in an attempt escape their casual touch.

“This one's got some spunk in her!” one of her captors said approvingly. “C’mon, help me out here, hold her down…”

“Heh. If she doesn't, I'll put some in her tonight~” another voice jokes. There’s a ripple of laughs from around the campfire. “Wanna help me break her in?”

“I’ve already got my eyes on that fennec-girl over there. Trade you in an hour or two?”

Their tone was so casual, Zahrah remembered thinking. Like they were discussing what they’d be cooking for dinner, not what to do with a living, breathing person.

The coyote knew she should fight, bite, plead. That’s what she’d been taught all her life. Do something instead of just lying there and letting them decide her fate.

But even that first night, the first of many, she couldn't muster more than a half-hearted protest.

Zahrah consoled herself that she couldn’t fight back anyway, even if she wanted to: because of the ropes, because her captors were stronger, because this was her life now and she’d better get used to it.

But deep in her heart, the coyote knew -- she didn't fight back because she wanted this. Because she’d chosen to wander out alone to fetch water, that last day in her village, knowing exactly the risk she was taking. Hoping, even.

Zahrah had heard town-gossip about bandits lurking in the woods. Everyone knew what happened to all the women who disappeared each year. But ever since Zahrah’s first awakening, the first time she felt that rush of heat between her legs, the coyote pined for the… impersonality of it all. The lack of control. The knowledge that she didn’t have a choice in whose cock slipped between her legs.

She always had to hide a rush of envy as the news inevitably trickled back: another girl gone missing, only to be glimpsed in some back-alley auction in the big cities to the North.

And so, at the mercy of those rough paws, Zahrah felt her heart pound faster. It was really happening. She’d fantasized about being captured by bandits, sold off to be taken and used, but she… she never thought it would really happen. It was always a distant, guilty dream when she was alone in her nice, safe, warm bed. But even if she changed her mind now, she couldn’t back out. She had no choice, anymore, she’d given up the luxury of safety long ago. This was the moment she’d dreamed of, the moment she’d feared, ever since she took the leap.

The paws withdrew, satisfied. “Hm. She really is a pretty sight, but perhaps we should leave her untouched. She’ll sell for more that way, you know. Some customers like being the first. We’ll have our turn when she’s all stretched out and limp, after her first day on the post.”

“N-no, please…” Zahrah moaned. “Please, I want… I need…”

“You want to go home, is that it?” a voice sneered. “Well, too bad! The only valuable thing about you now is between your legs.”

“And her muzzle, can’t forget that!” another eager voice suggested. “Coyotes have such soft and silky tongues. I love raiding season around those parts, I never even get chafed. Once she’s properly trained and broken in, she’ll be a best-seller, mark my words.”

“I’m a fan of their tailholes, myself. Nice and tight.” a third confessed.

“Don’t be cruel, any of you! She must be so scared, away from her village for the first time.” a kinder voice suggested. “We’re not gonna hurt you, it’s not so bad once you get used to it…”

(No, you idiots… Zahrah thought, internally despairing. She hoped that at least one of her captors had more cock than sense.)

A murmur around the fire. A debate. The promise of money, competing with the urges between their legs.

A new voice. Deeper, firmer, in control. “Take off her blindfold. I want to see her eyes.”

Paws reached up, untied the scrap of fabric. Zahrah blinked away tears, overwhelmed by the first light she’d seen in weeks. She locked eyes with the shadow from which that final voice had come.

“She’s got a fire in her.” that same commanding voice decided. “She won’t be any good for a customer until she’s learned how to take a cock properly. I wouldn’t put it past this one to bite.”

A clamor from the fire-lit circle. Volunteering, joking, bartering. Offers to pin Zahrah down and help with the process of breaking her in. Other voices arguing that a customer would pay highly for the privilege of breeding her, if this coyote were properly tied down and spread open beforehand.

“No.” The answer was a low rumble from beyond the firelight. The circle instantly went silent. The bandit leader leaned forward, and Zahrah’s breath caught: the red-furred fox looked just like all the guilty-eager whispers had promised, back in her home village. Tall, muscular, fierce. Menacing, in the flickering light. She’d never seen anyone who looked half as dangerous.

And the leader’s already half-hard cock betrayed his opinion on Zahrah’s worth.

“She’s too valuable to waste on some limp-dicked wolf with more money than sense.” the leader said. He stood up, towering over the others, reaching forward to take Zahrah’s leash. “I’ll take this one myself tonight, and break her in. Might get a litter out of her. The rest of you can have her after the customers are done.”

The rest of the night was a blur. Zahrah was cleaned up, the dust washed out of her fur before she was led to the leader’s tent. He kept her tied down to the bed, that night, just in case. But as he sunk his knot into her, the fox’s breath was hot in her ears as he whispered that he’d seen her type before, he knew what it looked like when a good bitch panted for a knot, he promised he’d put a big strong litter in her womb before any mere customer could have the chance.

Zahrah didn’t even pretend to fight, this time. She begged for it. She knew her place, she knew how to be a good girl. And when the fox had finished, when at last he’d pulled out his knot and left his cum dripping down her thighs, he dragged her out to the fire-pit and left her there, with her muzzle pressed in the dust. “You can use her mouth tonight, if you wish.” he told his band. “But leave her cunt to me, until she shows. Her first litter is mine alone.”

And now, months later…

Every time Zahrah was tied up on the post -- her post now, front and center at the auction, showing her off to every prospective customer -- she felt a familiar wetness between her legs.

Another customer eyed Zahrah, pointing at her. A black and grey wolf, this time, with a blue cock. Zahrah had taken wolves before — she’d lost count of how many. It was always a stretch, regardless of which hole they chose, but she’d gotten used to it by now.

The fox-leader asked questions about what exactly this ‘valued customer’ planned to do to his merchandise, a number was haggled and sealed with a handshake.

Another bag of coins shifted hands. The leader weighed it in now paw, considering, then nodded, leading the wolf closer to his prize attraction. The fox leaned in, whispering in Zahrah’s ear: “This one expects you to beg. He paid well, so put on a good show.”

And yet, even without a choice... Perhaps because she doesn't have a choice...

Zahrah put on a good show of begging and pleading, batting her eyes and whimpering for him to go slow, to have mercy on a poor weak innocent coyote-girl, please… Many customers liked that sort of thing, she’d noticed. The auction attracted a certain crowd. To no avail, of course: her words just hardened the wolf’s cock as he sunk hilt-deep into Zahrah’s silky-soft depths.

This particular wolf was thick, Zahrah admitted with an internal wince. It was almost a struggle to take him, and she hadn’t even reached the knot yet. He couldn’t sink quite as deep as her vulpine lover, of course, but few could match the bandit leader in sheer length.

As the wolf finally came, with his eyes closed in pleasure, Zahrah took the opportunity to roll her eyes, even as a familiar wave of arousal rippled from her ears to her tail as she reached her own climax. She’d have been just as soft and wet and eager if the wolf had simply asked, but he didn’t seem to be into such things. Oh well. Probably a repeat customer, judging by his panting and desperate thrusts, so she’d have to get used to it.

The wolf pulled out, leaving another trail of cum down Zahrah’s body to join all the others. The wolf didn’t spare his “lover” a second glance, as he trotted away on wobbly legs to go do… whatever normal people do, after visiting a cheap brothel? Zahrah had no idea.

Zahrah barely even remembered what life was like outside of the auction, anymore. This was her life now. Tied to her post, awaiting her next customer. They all blurred together, eventually.

Maybe Zahrah would escape someday. She could, if she wanted to. Her captors had loosened her bonds, these last few weeks, thinking that the fire in her eyes had disappeared.

Idiots, only thinking with their cocks, Zahrah thought to herself again.

(But with a certain odd fondness, this time.)

She’d heard the bandits chuckle to one another, as they passed her around the campfire from cock to cock — “We must’ve broken this one, I’ve seen it before. She’s a good coyote-bitch, she knows her place. She wouldn’t run even if she got the chance, she’d come back begging for a good cock soon enough. She can’t help it.”

It was true that Zahrah had no choice in who fucked her, who put a litter in her womb. She had no choice who used her until she was panting and begging, not sure if she was asking them to stop or go harder. The bandit leader had already started discussing who would sire her next litter, once she gave birth to his pups: the prize might go to a warrior who gathered the most captives in the next raid, or let the whole pack take her for a night, or perhaps some VIP customer willing to pay for the privilege.

The bandit leader never asked for Zahrah’s opinion on the matter, of course. She didn’t have any choice in whose pups would fill her womb. That wasn’t her place.

And yet, even without a choice... Perhaps because she didn’t have a choice...

For now, Zahrah chose to stay.


—————————————————————————————————-

A YCH from Foxyghost over on FA!

Zahrah is the golden coyote on the farthest right side. To be clear, I know nothing about the personalities of any of the other YCH slots in this scene, so don’t take my story as commentary on their characters! I completely made them up to fit the story.

(I leave it to the reader to decide how many of Zahrah’s thoughts are “legitimate”, and how many are Stockholm syndrome talking. I make no guarantee that that her memory is accurate!)

This story and art are not canonical to Zahrah’s universe Cultureshock, to be clear. But you can read more stories involving Zahrah here! https://www.furaffinity.net/view/45707567/ or https://aryion.com/g4/view/756995