Bastinado for Blaidd
By KinkSaber
Dante silently crept between the bushes and foliage to the sound of omnidirectional howls. He had just left an unknown, underground crypt that he had no memory of any visits. The dark sullen sky and the ice blue moon were his only company, and he stayed away from lit torches for good measure.
He couldn’t recall where or what he was, and it was only when he saw a brief reflection in a rusted bronze mirror that he discovered his own feline features. Tall, dark, and handsome – he was a black panther, and the only thing he knew about himself was his name, and for an inexplicable reason he knew how to handle the weapon found next to him when he regained consciousness.
He was also somehow skilled in the art of stealth. Dante had sought out the help of what he thought were soldiers, but the moment he made himself known, he was attacked and skewered on sight. Miraculously, he awoke again at the last campfire he had rested at, without so much as a scratch – but the memory and buzz of death had not yet left him. He felt the stab and his own heated blood spill from his body. Again he tried to call for help, and a second time he was decapitated by the iron-helmet assailants. That was when Dante learned to avoid the main roads, and so he followed the trees and shades to the Eastern woods away from the swordsmen, until he heard a mysterious and alluring call in the crisp night air.
In another realm, in another reality, the Tarnished would snap his fingers and Blaidd would come from between the moon and the shadows; but in this one, like many others, Dante did not know the secret snap, and just as fast as its many incarnations, the half wolfman raised his sword and attacked.
It was a good thing that Dante expected this result as he drew nearer to the howls, and had his own weapon ready. The panther used his quick reflexes to dodge the first strike, then hopped over a low sweep, followed by a parry with his own modest blade against the wolfman’s downward strike. Dante had no idea where his swordsmanship came from, but he was glad to have such a skill as he deflected again and again the wolfman’s offensive stance.
“You.. who are you?” Blaidd finally spoke, after so many of his attacks were shrugged off.
“Well, the one being attacked, apparently.” Dante quipped and returned to a defensive stance. The next clash between metal would only be three seconds later. “And you?”
“The one attacking, then, I suppose.” Blaidd spun around and threw his weight into his enchanted greatsword, which only barely missed slicing Dante’s head clean off.
“Did you care to explain why you’re attacking?” Dante offered as he hoped for a more peaceful resolution. Their blades came into contact seven more times as sparks flew between strikes. “Because this seems poignantly pointless.”
“And how’s that?” Blaidd finally ceased his onslaught and stood with a more relaxed stance. “You haven’t struck me once, nor have I, you.”
“Yes, well. That’s the thing about being undead – I guess – I’d just rise again.” Dante sighed. “What a massive waste of time. The only thing you’d achieve is force me to walk a great distance again.”
“..Undead?” Blaidd stabbed the earth with the sharp end of his greatsword. “No. I see. You are.. Tarnished. Lost to grace once, but now regained its guidance. Yes, it would be a waste of time. What harm could you do to a shadow, and what death could I bring to an immortal?.”
“Great. We’re on the same page. Now, can we stop fighting?” Dante hopefully suggested. “Besides, I don’t even know why you’re attacking me, or anyone else, for that matter.”
“You were sneaking in the grass. That itself was suspicious enough.” The wolfman accused. “In this land, you’d be killed for lesser things.”
“I did get killed walking along the road. Three times.” Dante offered. “Which explains the sneaking. Jeez, is merely existing a sin in these lands?”
“Yes. In and of itself.” Blaidd replied, then yanked his sword from the ground. “Pleasant talk. Now, let’s get back to it.”
“What the fuck?” Dante groaned. “You can see there is no reason to keep fighting!”
“No reason but for the sheer bliss of the hunt.” Blaidd responded, and before Dante’s blade was firmly grasped in his hand, the wolfman struck and slashed the panther’s neck, severing his head from torso.
—
“That little son of a bitch!” Dante groaned as he respawned back at the site of grace. It was a familiar camp, one that he had spent dozens of minutes at resting his tired, weary feet. It would be another hour to walk back to where he had died to retrieve the runes he had lost. Dante contemplated whether he should just give up and move on, but then recalling how stubborn-headed the wolfman was, the panther decided he couldn’t leave it alone. Besides, in an hour, the wolfman would have left the area. It was a good thing that they fought near some ruined walls, otherwise he’d never find those runes again.
As expected, when Dante returned to the spot where he had died, no trace of his existence had been left, save for the glowing runes that laid neatly in a pile as they waited for their owner’s return. Dante absorbed it into his body, and sighed. He had half hoped that the wolfman was still around; caught off his guard, if possible, but Dante settled for never meeting that horrible creature again. The panther was, after all, not a fan of being unceremoniously attacked by battle junkies as he had been so far in this land.
Just as Dante was to whisk himself away, something in the trees caught his eye. He was wrong. Half wrong, at least. Blaidd was still there, and sat upon the tree branches just further up. It was a glimmer of moonlight reflected off of the wolfman’s breastplate that called for Dante’s attention, and there Dante saw something else. Blaidd’s bare feet. Five toed, silver-gray fur, with black toe claws protruding from the tip of each digit. They hung from the branch where Blaidd sat, his boots nowhere in sight.
Dante paused and gulped when he saw them. His body stirred in ways he did not understand. A warmth grew in his groins and tingled as it traveled up throughout his body. It was a pleasant experience, and one that was very nostalgic; as if Dante hadn't felt this in many millennia. His mind might have forgotten, but his body remembered. It was a sense of desire, and one that was so deeply ingrained into him that just the sudden sight of it rekindled the flame that would soon consume the panther.
All that Dante knew was that he needed to have them. To touch them. Maybe something more. The panther searched his inventory to see what he had. Trina’s lily and root resin. He was sure that if he mixed these two ingredients together, it would make something that would help his endeavor, and so Dante did. Quietly, calmly he pummeled the two together until he was left with a purple paste, and the panther balled it up. With a precise aim, Dante lobbed the mess directly at the wolfman’s face, where Blaidd’s mouth was half open to receive the incoming slime, and the shock of the surprise attack made Blaidd jerk so acutely that the wolfman fell from the heights and banged his head against the ground, which knocked him out promptly. Well, it wasn’t the exact thing Dante had hoped for, but the panther supposed that it was the result that mattered most.
Before Blaidd regained consciousness, Dante got on immediately to strip the wolfman of all of his protective gears. The armor and the leggings were removed and chucked to the side, no longer able to protect their master of the panther’s wrath and lust. With the wolfman naked, Dante bound Blaidd’s arms behind his back tightly, so much that Blaidd wouldn’t even be able to slip a single finger out of the rope that flattened his palm against the side of his other arm. Then, to make the wolfman immobile, Dante tied Blaidd’s torso to the trunk of the tree. The panther moved the wolfman’s legs over a large rock, where he crossed Blaidd’s ankles before binding them together, so that they were slightly lifted off the ground and made certain that Blaidd wasn’t able to use his legs to leverage himself out of the predicament. Finally, a thick branch was attached between Blaidd’s legs and tied at the thighs and the shin, to disable the wolfman’s knee from bending at all.
Dante stood back and admired his handiwork, and smirked to himself. “Looks like the hunter has become the prey. That’s what you get for not leaving me alone. Ha!” It was quite a sight to behold, as the previously invincible Blaidd was now completely helpless and bound to the trunk of a dead, rotted tree. Dante spent more time with his eyes glued to the wolfman’s feet, and the panther didn’t forfeit a single moment with his gaze away; it truly was nothing less than irregularly captivating for Dante how good they looked. Good enough to eat, even.
Dante turned his head and surveyed the area. They were alone, free from all but nature and the fireflies that danced among the tall grass. The panther thought about whether he dared to do more; they were miles away from the main road and there wasn’t exactly a bustling town nearby. The black feline took a deep breath, steadied himself, and went for it.
Dante leaned towards the wolfman’s toes until his nose brushed past the pad under the fleshy digit, and took a whiff of Blaidd’s sweaty toes.The night air had cooled them considerably and thinned out the muskiness, but Dante can tell that Blaidd’s feet had spent the whole day baked in those boots. It was a strong scent, one that Dante found tickled his fancy. The arousal in the panther’s pants only grew as he took another whiff of the masculine, powerful aroma, and Dante felt a drunk-like buzz fill his head as the smell of Blaidd’s sweaty feet did.
As for the Blaidd’s soles, with consideration to all of the wolfman’s activities in the daytime they were remarkably clean; completely free of dirt or grime, even on the top of his feet where tufts of fur resided. His soles were smooth, too smooth for someone who spent most of his time in constant traversal from one place to another. They were also callous-free, and far, far too tender for a warrior knight skilled with an enchanted greatsword.
Dante gulped and swallowed, and the scent that occupied his sense of smell tricked his brain into feinting a taste of those wolfman toes. It was too much for the panther to bear. He could wait no longer. It was time to get a real sample of those unconscious soles.
Dante’s tongue left his mouth as quickly as his lips met with the knocked out feet. Upon first contact the panther could taste how delicious they were. Although they were sweaty, they weren’t too salty, and definitely not as gross as some might imagine. They were perfectly soft, as though butter ready to melt in the heat of his mouth. He allowed his more primal desires to take over as the toes were lapped one by one, each one reaped of the flavor they offered as the unconscious Blaidd continued his slumber. Dante’s pants grew tighter when the thought of him overpowering the talented wolfman so easily, and that there was nothing Blaidd could do to resist or refuse the supplication of his toes.
Once each digit was licked of all the tasty sweatiness they offered, Dante began to ravenously ravage the wolfman’s soles in the same hungry, greedy manner. He slurped heartily against the defenseless soles until he painted them with thick saliva, and marked them as his own playthings. The flavor and sensation of soft, tender flesh exploded in his mouth, and Dante simply could not get enough of the lustful activity he had performed on his once captive, now tasty foot slave. Each crease on the sole was dutifully licked, and each private space between the wolfman’s toes was forcefully invaded with a twist of his tongue. When he was done, Blaidd’s feet dripped and glistened with excess.
It was then that Blaidd began to stir. At first the wolfman was confused, but when he felt the rope tugged against his wrists and hands and the coldness exacerbated by the panther’s spit on his soles, Blaidd instantly became infuriated.
“You. Tarnished..!” Blaidd gritted through his teeth. He felt humiliated at the situation and an anger burned fiercely inside his chest.
“You, wolf.” Dante licked his lips and replied. “Tasty feet. Very soft, by the way – what a delicacy to be had.”
“As soon as I’m freed of these ropes, you are dead.” Blaidd threatened. “I will split you in half, and then I will hunt you down where you return, again and again, for all of your immorality.”
“If you’re freed of the ropes, you mean.” Dante corrected. “And with that threat, you’ve just signed your own warrant – now I can’t let you go, even when I’m done.”
“Mark my words, Tarnished – you will pay for this!”
“Not as much as you – paying for what you’ve done to me earlier.” Dante retorted. “And you know what, I think I have just the thing for you!”
“What are you doing with that scabbard..?” Blaidd grunted and squinted his eyes when he saw the panther raise the sword sheath above his head, and followed with a quick swing downwards as the side of the wooden piece struck his sole. “Ow!” Blaidd bit his lips as the sting shot up from the sole of his foot up his leg. “What is this?!”
“Punishment for your tender tootsies.” Dante replied, and readied himself for another strike. Thwack, thwack, thwack. The scabbard came down again and again, and struck different parts of Blaidd’s soles each time. Across the balls of his foot, across his heels, and in the center of his arches. The wolfman began to sweat as the intensity of the stings built upon each other; each strike that the panther laid on his soles became increasingly harsh as the same spots were hit in tandem, where one would be followed another followed by the next in a makeshift rhythm that only the panther could adhere to.
“Oww! Owww!! OWWWW!!” The wolfman panted as his soles were forced red with the constant, consistent strikes. “Enough, enough!”
“Not according to you.” Dante replied as he pointed out the wolfman’s stiff cock, which had gotten more and more erect as Blaidd’s soles were abused. “No, I think you need more. More!”
“Noo! Noo! Ow, ow, OWWW!!”
Blaidd’s fur was matted with sweat as his soles were struck again and again, and Dante showed no signs of exhaustion or the desire to slow down. No. In fact, it was the opposite. The more his scabbard slapped against the tender toes, the more excited the panther became. Despite it being a hollow scabbard made from wood of no renown, each strike came fast and true to the center of Blaidd’s receptions. The nerves on the ends of his feet were on fire as the pale gray soles were beaten until they turned a bright red; every inch from the bottom of his heels to the tips of his toes ached and screamed with stinging misery. Blaidd’s soles throbbed intensely as the opening of the wooden scabbard whistled with each strike, which signaled when he should expect another soul crushing attack as it came crashing down.
“Please! Please! Mercy!” The normally stoic and respectable wolfman cried as tears filled his eyes; his masculinity and dignity had been fully violated by the simple strike of tapered wood. It would be one thing to live and die by the sword, by as it stood he was naked, bound in the woods, and his tender soles were ardently whipped by someone he had bested with skill and agility. Blaidd almost wished he was the one who had been defeated and stabbed by cold, hard metal – at least that was quick and simple.
“Did you show me any when I asked for truce?” Dante wiped the sweat from his brow, and raised the scabbard once more. The loud smack against the wolfman’s soles and his subsequent howl was all the answer Blaidd could give. Wood against toes, decorative metal rings against arches, oil-slick finishes against beet red, silken skin. The contestants were far from fairly matched as Blaidd repeatedly had his soles humbled by the only part of the sword not used for aggressive combat. The way he was tied up was genius – not only could Blaidd not move a single inch from where his feet were located, the rest of his body was locked out of any possibility of struggles or resistance. When Blaidd tried to twist his legs away, the harsh splinters on the branches dug into the thin part under his knees, and each jerk of his body only pressed them against him deeper, as much as it could without a break in his skin.
The crickets cried out in the night and the moon began to wane, but Dante’s vendetta had only been partially sated. The horny, lust induced panther finally only rested when his arm felt so tired that they were going to fall out – both of them, as he switched between the two to maximize the bastinado inflicted upon Blaidd. The wolfman’s face was twisted and messed up with tears as Blaidd had been ugly sobbing from the mind breaking stings that echoed from his soles. Each of his toes throbbed and pulsated with miserable agony, and yet in the wolfman’s mind he knew; Blaidd knew that it was not yet the end, despite the scabbard on the floor.
It was when Dante finished his breather and took off his pants that Blaidd understood just how much the panther had enjoyed the beating of his soles. Dante moved in closer and sat on Blaidd’s lower legs as he nudged his fully erect cock between the red, hot soles. The bastinado had left Blaidd’s feet sweaty, and the wolfman’s toes twitched uncontrollably as the panther forced his cock between the hot, helpless foot meat.
“No.. no!” Blaidd cried. “Just how much do you mean to humiliate me?!”
“As much as I damn well please..!”
With Dante’s reply came a flurry of thrusts. Even as Blaidd tried to move his feet away, he found his legs numbed and motionless from the intense session. All that he could manage was a meager reactionary jerk as his nervous system was once again stimulated by the violation of his soles. Dante thrusted and rubbed between the wolfman’s arches, the tip of his cock bounced against the involuntarily curled toes. Blaidd’s soft, tenderized arches felt like paradise to the grinning panther, who only cared to satisfy the most bestial urges that erupted from inside him. The more he rubbed against those brutalized soles, the more Blaidd howled in agony as the stings overwhelmed his whole lower body, to the point where the stimulation of acute, violent torment warped his mind and forced the wolfman’s cock to burst and spew out all the seed that was in his body.
As Blaidd came and messed himself up, Dante sped up the fucking of the wolfman’s soles. He grabbed each of Blaidd’s feet in his hands, his claws dug into the hypersensitive soles with a good, firm grip. A mixture of moans, laughter, and cries flooded from behind him as he scratched those delicate, effete soles with the rigidness of his claws. The more the tortured those poor helpless soles, the hotter his groin burned as he thrusted, fucked, and molested Blaidd’s feet with high impunity and sadism.
Dante felt his orgasm approach, and he got off the wolf’s legs to turn and face the whimpering pup that was once a great warrior. He stroked himself steadily and kept himself from the climax, and then in a deep, domineering voice, the panther made a demand of the wolfman.
“Spread your toes, foot pup.”
“Go to hell!” Blaidd sobbed.
“Spread your toes for me, or I’ll beat your soles until the sun paints the sky orange and blue and red as your feet will be, and until the moon returns where the coolness of night will offer your burning soles no comfort.” Dante huffed. “I’ll make you beg for death, but an easy death you will not attain. Now SPREAD YOUR TOES, or a slow stroll on molten lava will be child’s play compared to what I will do with my new foot toys!”
For the first time in Blaidd’s life, he felt genuine fear. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins wasn't the mere illusion he had hoped for it to be. The wolfman had been vanquished, and his pride and dignity left in tatters. Blaidd stayed silent for but a moment, and then obeyed his new Master by the spread of his toes.
“Wiggle them for me!” Dante demanded, and what Dante demanded, he received. Blaidd curled his toes submissively, quietly, as the wolfman hoped this would soon all end. As those toes wiggled, Dante stroked himself faster and faster, until he unleashed his own seeds against the wolfman’s soles as he painted them white. Dante pumped his shaft until all of his cum had squirted on those soles, and there was nothing left for the panther to do but to proclaim his uncontested victory over the defeated Blaidd.
Runes emanated from Blaidd’s body and flowed into Dante as the panther absorbed all of the wolfman’s powers and skills. Dante felt himself grow stronger and stronger, and instinctively knew for a fact that Blaidd was no longer, and will never return to the great warrior that he once was. All that Blaidd could do was to watch in horror as he felt the strength leave his body, until he was merely a husk who couldn’t even lift a tree branch to save his own life, and Dante’s smile grew wider. The panther knew just how powerless Blaidd had become, and that he would never be able to fight back ever again.
And then, of course, there was the matter of loot – but, truly, it would be redundant to state the pair of gray, sensitive prizes that Dante had claimed for himself, now and forever.
=The end=