Martin's Other Sword
by tannim
January 14, 2014

	"Get yer back into it, mouse.  You can move that stone faster, I seen you earlier!"

	Martin tried not to flinch at the whip cracking near his ear, but Fleabane wasn't even paying attention to him anyway.  The soldier was just dealing with boredom rather than finding real faults.  At least that one hadn't actually hit him, even if purely by chance.

	The nearby Skalrag, though, wasn't as nice and his spear pawle left a sting on Martin's left shoulder. "'Ere, no response mousy? Yer supposed to say, 'Yes, sir.'! Go on, let's 'ere it, eh?"

	"Mehbe he's too out of breath from pushin' that wee stone, eh, Skalrag? Look, that old'un can still say it while he's pushin'.  Oy! You, old squirrel, say 'Yes, sir!'"

	Some distance away, Hillgorse the hedgehog and Barkjon squirrel looked up from their strain to push a stone.  Barkjon sighed at the command but did as he was told.  It left the two vermin looking pleased with themselves as they turned back to Martin.

	"Such a pitiful slave.  Weaker than an old'n!"

	"Maybe he needs more encouragement.  'Ow bout it, mouse? You want more encouragement?" Both Skalrag and Fleabane swung their weapons and sent Martin slamming into the stone. "There, I 'opes you appreciates it! Huh, there's our good deed for the day, Fleabane! 'elpin' the young slaves work harder is such rewardin' work."

	Martin groaned and pushed his chest away from the heavy stone.  He glared back at the two, panting heavily.  All day they'd teased him and taunted him.  A snarl escaped his throat at seeing them looking so pleased with themselves.  They looked back to him just in time to see him jumping toward them.

	"Hey! Git away from my whip! YEOWCH! HE HIT ME!"

	"AND HERE, LET ME HIT YOU AGAIN!"

	Martin only had the pawle and a foot or so of the whip, but it was enough.  With Fleabane holding the other end, he couldn't defend himself against the slave mouse's vicious strikes.  Long seasons of slavery had given Martin enough muscle to cause deep bruises with just the pawle and he made good use of his captor's surprise to beat him before Skalrag finally intervened.

	A swift strike to the back of Martin's head sent the mouse sprawling along the ground.  He was dazed, but still sprang back at Skalrag while the weasel was recovering from his beating.  The spear swung again and cracked into his shoulder, but the enraged slave ignored the pain and drove his head right into his foe's stomach.

	Other soldiers arrived just in time to see the fox fall to the ground, winded, and struggling to breath.  Claws grabbed at Martin and slammed him to the ground.  Voices yelled, threatening the other slaves who had stopped to watch before they could consider helping.  Weapons were brandished, more threats were made, until the Tyrant himself finally showed up to demand what was going on.

	"Why is this mouse here, Skalrag."

	"He was fighting with the guards, lord Badrang!"

	"And why was that, Skalrag?"

	The fox captain bit his lip for a moment and looked nervous. "I... er, I dunno.  I was outside at the time leading in some foragers."

	"Of course you were... It was silly of me to think my captain in charge of monitoring the happenings inside my fortress would know what was happening within it.  Get out, Skalrag.  You OBVIOUSLY have more important things to do.  Oh, and report to Hisk tomorrow morning.  A good flogging in front of all of Marshank should help you do your job better."

	"Y... Yes, Lord..." The fox fled as fast as he could.

	Badrang looked at the two soldiers that'd been brought in, then at Martin, held close to the tyrant's footpaws by two of his personal guards.  Both simply stood on his back and head.  Nine more stood around the room, watching and waiting.  Most had swords, two had bows, and even if Martin could have slipped away from those holding him, the rest would easily have taken him down.

	"What happened, slave." He glanced up to Fleabane when he tried to answer for Martin. "You, get back to work.  Any more incidents of any sort and I'll have your tail." The weasel stood sheepishly near the entrance for a few seconds, then hurried out. "Well, Mouse? Why did you attack my soldiers?"

	The guards holding Martin stepped off him, but grabbed both of his wrists.  Martin glared at them, then at Badrang.  He was angry, tired, and sore from the beating, but he couldn't let his foe see him weak.

	"Your vermin wouldn't leave me alone." Martin took a deep breath, trying to ready for trouble. "They taunted me, beat me, and refused to let me rest, just like they do to all the poor souls you have enslaved.  I made them think twice about how they treat a slave!"

	Badrang just yawned in his throne and propped his head up on his paw. "Yes, I'm sure.  You wanted to be the hero.  Is that it?"

	"I'm no hero, Badrang." Martin growled. "I'm an enslaved creature who will kill you along with the rest of your vermin at any moment."

	"HA! Yes... I bet you think you could, too." The stoat polished a speck from his throne. "I suppose I should punish you, just to make an example for the other slaves.  Perhaps a night or two outside bound to a wall."

	"Your cruelty will get you killed faster, you stupid stoat.  You stole my sword and you stole my youth, but it's your careless cruelty that'll kill you.  You just keep pushing and taking.  Soon, you'll take too much or you'll push too far and your guards won't be able to protect you anymore! I'll slit your throat myself with my father's sword and throw your worthless bare carcass to those you've tortured for so long to let them use that filthy hide of yours as they see fit!"

	Martin worked himself into a fine rage as he spoke.  He'd worked up Badrang, too.  The stoat had been amused at first, but as the slave mouse went on, his mood soured.

	"Enough!" Badrang's fist slammed down on his throne and drew his sword. "Hold that arrogant slave down for me!"

	One guard swept both of Martin's feet out from under him, the other grabbed Martin's ears and pulled him onto his knees, looking up at Badrang.  Martin stared defiantly at the tyrant, fighting the guards.  Badrang held the sword tip to the mouse's neck.

	"Slit MY throat will you? For cruelty? HA.  Cruelty is power.  It gets things done and it keeps those without it in their place.  You are nothing.  Those slaves are nothing, simply tools I can use as I please.  I can do anything I WANT to you, any of you." He cooled down from his burst of anger, but was still plenty hot. "No... not on his knees.  Stand him up and strip his clothes off.  No need to get them dirty when I kill him.  I imagine the other slaves will be happy to have some more rags to wear."

	Martin fought them harder as he heard the order, then just stopped as though he had given in.  He was panting hard while they tugged his old oversized tunic over his head.  They grabbed at the simple loincloth that was all he had left and Martin jerked both paws away from them.  He grabbed at the cloth and had to fight to hold it in place.

	"What's the matter, mouse? Afraid of being naked in front of your betters? I don't blame you.  Mice are such SMALL creatures... aren't they?" His guards sniggered at that. "I know I'd be embarrassed to have two little pebbles between my legs.  Maybe that's why you mice are always so easy to enslave.  Nothing there to fight for... or with.  Take that cloth off and let's see that tiny knife of yours, mouse."

	Martin stood still for several seconds, trying to control his hatred.  Badrang's taunting actually made that easier.  The mouse had heard plenty jokes of how small his kind were, whether true or not.  He finally grabbed his loincloth and slowly pushed it down past his hips.  There was only a choked gurgle from one of the guards near Badrang as it slid down Martin's ankles.

	His soft dick was fatter than his wrist when exposed and dangled down six inches despite being completely flaccid.  The scrotum between his legs was huge and round as though there was only one testicle within.  Only when Martin shifted nervously did the other testicle pop into view from where he'd had it stuck in back of him for convenience.  Each testicle was nearly the size of a grapefruit.  With both in front of him, his soft dick pointed almost straight out at Badrang.

	"By the Claw! Would ya look at that!?"

	Martin turned away from their gaping stares even as the guard who couldn't contain himself clapped his paws over his snout.  It wasn't comfortable being so exposed to his foes.  His anger at his slavery shifted to being angry about being so humiliated by the one who'd stolen his sword.

	Badrang was speechless for a few seconds at the sight of his bare slave.  The mouse was huge! It was hard to imagine how a slave could even work with that set hanging between his legs, let alone fight.  Still, fight he did and trouble came with it.

	"Kneel, slave.  It's time to die.  Naked, exposed, and eh..." Badrang shook his head as his gaze drifted back down to the massive set.  It was even bigger than his own despite he, a mighty stoat, being so much larger otherwise! "er, and as helpless as a babe.  Like all who can't learn to obey!"

	Martin glared around, daring anybody to make him.  His cheeks were flushed from embarrassment, but his fighting spirit was roused.  When he actually looked into their faces, though, their focus was on his groin rather than on him.  They couldn't take their eyes off his dick and balls.  Only Badrang even kept looking up at his face and even that stoat looked somewhat put off by what he saw.

	'Not all mice are tiny, Eh, Badrang.' It was a thought rather than words.  They were actually impressed by his genitals.  Those fools always did like big weapons, he thought.  Having them gazing at his fleshy bits in awe was rather satisfying.  He didn't hear the taunting anymore.  Not even from Badrang.  It was like magic, really.  They weren't even raising their swords despite him not doing what he was told.

	There was a certain thrill having such an effect on the mighty hordebeasts.  Bringing them to a dead stop just by flaunting his mousehood.  He felt a twitch of arousal.  He heard a grunt of amazement from a few of the guards.  His cock thickened and lifted off his scrotum, steadily filling out to greater prominence.

	Badrang swallowed hard, a lot of his soldiers did, too.  It just kept getting longer.  Six inches turned to eight, then eight to ten.  The mouse's dick lifted higher, too.  Like a swordsman extending his sword and then saluting, it went from nearly straight out to touching Martin's chest.  The shaft rose until its tip rested just under the young mouse's shapely pecs.  Martin's whole length throbbed with each rapid heartbeat, clear fluid beaded out of the tip some seconds later with a steady stream of it oozing out after it down his chest and shaft to Martin's balls where it finally dripped to the floor.

	The tyrant could see he was losing his men.  They were entranced by his slave's endowment.  He had to do something.  His own groin gave him the idea and he sat back down in his throne to hide his inspiration.

	"My my, a male beast such as yourself getting aroused by me and my men.  I thought you might be one of... those." Badrang again propped his head up on his paw, trying to look careless again. "It's disgusting getting aroused by one's own gender, isn't it lads?"

	His guards shifted uncomfortably.  Their own reactions weren't much better, but they knew better than to say so.  It took a few seconds for them to finally think to chorus 'disgusting' in agreement.

	"Since you like us so VERY much, go ahead and show it.  Rub that, er, tiny mouse dick.  No sense in hiding what you are."

	Martin's lip curled in a disgusted sneer. "I will NOT do something that private for YOU, stoat.  Not for you OR your men.  It's... it's..."

	Badrang felt his confidence returning at another thought. "Perhaps I should send for the other slaves to make them watch you.  I'm sure they'd enjoy seeing how much you enjoy other males.  You'd like that, wouldn't you.  All those barely clad male beasts gaping at you.  I could even have a few bend over just for you, maybe cane them so they'll squirm.  All that masculine movement would be just right for you, wouldn't it?" He narrowed his eyes at Martin as he saw the slave's resolve weaken. "Now, KNEEL.  Kneel before your master, and paw off."

	The tyrant could do it, too.  Martin was certain Badrang WOULD do it, if provoked.  His legs tensed, then bent, and dropped him to his knees without further protest.  It wouldn't have done any good anyway.  He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths to calm down, and grasped his shaft near the base with one paw.  It was slightly too thick for one paw to fully close around, leaving his thumb and fingers almost touching, but not quite.

	There were a few halfhearted chuckles from the guards, but they weren't threatening.  The vermin were either fascinated at seeing a mouse cock so large or pretending they weren't uncomfortable about seeing it.  None of them knew quite how to react to it, but they did know Badrang wanted them to humiliate the mouse and they had to give at least a token effort.

	Having been a slave most of his semi-mature life, Martin hadn't gotten to stroke it very often.  His shaft wobbled and swayed with the awkward rubbing.  A steady leaking of pre-cum spattered the floor around him and splattered over Martin's face and chest when he slid his paw along it too fast.  He quickly forgot about the threat of violence while trying to master the fleshy sword he'd grown, but soon enough he thought to use a second paw for better control.

	Using two, his large dick was far more steady and there was far more enjoyment from each stroke.  The young slave mouse took a deep breath to calm his nerves and racing heart.  It felt good masturbating.  It was embarrassing, it was awkward, but it felt good, and the look on Badrang's face of barely concealed jealousy made it better.

	Badrang and the others were completely silent watching him.  Martin's paws went up to his tip and back down rapidly.  The vermin's eyes followed each long stroke up and back, a few unconsciously nodding to the motion.  A sticky fleshy sound of slick pre squishing between Martin's paws and cock filled the silence.  Subtle squeezes around his dick made the wet sounds louder as he went.

	The mouse's breathing joined the wet noises.  His paws moved faster and even with two to steady it, it wasn't enough.  His tip swung about wildly at the end of his enormous dick and flung more of his constantly leaking fluids over himself and the floor around him.

	A lustful moan escaped and Martin just slowed his paws to let himself enjoy it.  The mouse's sticky chest heaved, his knees shifted on the ground only to clench around his hefty balls in pleasure a few seconds later.  As awkward and embarrassing as it had been before, it wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

	The vermin suddenly seemed so silly with their intense stares and slack jaws when seen through his growing pleasure.  They wanted to humiliate him before they killed him.  They failed.  They'd just made him feel a lot better.  Even if they killed him before he finished or after, they couldn't take that from him.

	Such thoughts were far from Badrang's mind.  He was fuming inwardly that a mouse, a worthless slave mouse from nowhere, had made him aroused.  A mouse had made him feel jealous and, small.  He was the tyrant! That mouse made him feel small and jealous and he couldn't do anything but watch that very mouse, that slave, still making him feel that way... and he enjoyed it.

	Martin's fur darkened with sweat from exertion.  His chest rose and fell frantically trying to pull in enough air.  His sticky paws polished his shaft from midsection to tip time after time but they never felt big enough to cover enough of his erection at once.  He wanted to cum, needed to cum, but release felt so far away no matter how much he rubbed.  The desire to keep the pleasure going instead of ending it and his life kept him from letting himself go over that edge, but only for a time.

	Soon, it was too much even for that urge to deny.  His eyes hardened as he felt it going too far to stop.  Badrang would kill him.  The cruel stoat would kill him as soon as he finished.  Martin locked his eyes on the tyrant's even as his cock visibly pulsed in orgasm.  At least Badrang could never take THAT sword!

	"UNNNNG!" Martin's muzzle jerked up toward the ceiling.

	A thick jet of white squirted from his tip.  Another followed, shooting for a full second before letting up and being followed by yet another.  Semen sprayed several feet in front of him to land next to Badrang's throne.  More landed all around as the mouse's orgasm fountained out.

	A guard near the throne wiped some from his footpaw. "Oi, watch it, mouse! Ack, yer got in on me paws!"

	Others moved further to the sides out of the way, but not Badrang.  The tyrant sat, watching in open fascination.  He'd never seen so much come from one beast before.  More complaints from those it splattered onto made him yell for silence, but otherwise, he simply enjoyed watching his slave.

	Second after second, Martin's cum spurted out.  His hefty testicles had pulled up tighter to his groin and were still there throughout.  Ten seconds turned to twenty and still the cum fell.  The floor of his longhouse was a mess of the stuff.  Small puddles of semen grew and still Martin came.

	Martin himself took the brunt of his orgasm.  For ever few spurts that he shot away from him, two shot up over and onto him.  His eyes were half open by thirty seconds with both ears dropping from the loads covering them.  His fur was matted against his body with the thick stuff and still more sprayed out.  The mouse wasn't even able to fully jerk himself anymore, he was heaving for air and just  held onto his spurting cock to keep his balance through the pleasure.

	Each pulse of cum spraying out came with a burst of bliss burning through his body.  There were so many pulses, so many bursts, he was exhausted just enjoying it.  They kept coming as he did.

	After A full minute, he still hadn't let up.  His belly was clenched visibly.  His jaw, too.  His eyes were clenched, but open, in a grimace of continuing pleasure.  Martin was completely soaked in his own semen with more pooled half an inch thick on the floor under him.  Even Badrang's eyes widened after a time.  How much could the mouse possibly produce?

	The flame of jealousy burned the Tyrant.  He couldn't produce even half of what Martin was producing after a day of sex.  His cock wasn't as large.  Even his testicles weren't as impressive as his slave's pair.  A badger would have been able to compare, but no mouse should have been so well endowed.  Even a badger, surely, wouldn't be able to cum for as long, for even as the jealousy raged, Martin's loins pumped more out.

	The room was silent save for Martin's desperate breathing and the cum splattering into the steadily growing puddles.  One minute turned to two, he was going as strongly as if he'd just hit his peak.  None of the guardbeasts even bothered to scoot away anymore despite their footpaws getting sticky with Martin's seed.

	For the slave himself, he was feeling wonderful.  He'd never been able to cum so freely.  The constant worry of guards finding him made him clench and cut off the flow early.  There in front of Badrang, in defiance of their attempts to humiliate him, however, he was letting it all go.  A pressure he'd felt for seasons inside let out and he had no doubt he'd let out just as much again and again if allowed.

	Pleasure made him slump forward and catch himself with his paws.  His head hung down, his cock still pulsed, and his cum still sprayed against his lower muzzle to dribble freely from his lips.  Martin managed to look up to Badrang, and the sight of his jealousy gave him the energy to push himself upright again with back proudly straight and loins still unloading.

	He felt the end of his orgasm nearing.  The pressure inside had eased and so did the feel of his flow.  Each spurt came out less forcefully at last, some barely arcing an inch into the air from his tip.  It had taken just over two and a half minutes to feel it diminish and with the look of amazement on Badrang's face, he strained to shoot higher and further.  Anything to keep it going.  It was the first time Martin had actively strained to push his semen out, and it was just to prove to Badrang how impotent he was compared to a lowly mouse slave.

	There was no way to know exactly how long he'd came, but after that eternity of release, even Martin's powerful orgasm eventually faded to a trickle and at last fully stopped.  The mouse pushed a few more times with only one final thick glob oozing out to show for it.  Everyone, even Martin himself, watched it run down the length of his impressive penis to spread out around his balls on the way to the creamy white pool around him that had once been the floor.

	Panting hard, Martin closed his eyes.  Every bit of the fur on his front was covered with his semen.  All of his face and legs as well as much of his back were too.  He waited, patiently, for the blow that would kill him to fall.  There would be no show of weakness for his captor.

	Several guards swallowed hard in the silence.  Semen still dripped from Martin's ears and arms.  Some dripped from a few of the guards that'd gotten hit too.  Everyone waited to see what the tyrant of Marshank would do after such a display.

	Badrang waited too.  He was still fighting himself as to how to react.  The slave had done exactly as he'd been told.  A male couldn't produce like that out of spite, save perhaps the last second or so and by then it hardly mattered if it was spite or not.  How had the mouse done it... and could he do it again?

	"Take this slave away.  I'm done with him." Badrang ignored the stupid looks of disbelief on his soldier's faces. "Don't make me repeat myself.  Hisk would be happy to have more than one guest tomorrow for the lash."

	Hurried paws gripped Martin's sticky, musky limbs and pulled him to his feet.  The mouse let himself be dragged a few feet, then struggled to a stop before he could be pulled out the door.  His cum slimed fur let him pull free of their grasp and stand there, staring at Badrang once more.

	"Why didn't you kill me, Badrang?" Martin sneered at the stoat. "I'll fight you again and you know it, so why didn't you just kill me and get it over with?"

	Badrang crossed his right leg over his left, as much to hide his bulge as to look casual. "Entertainment, slave.  You will entertain me and my men... and the other slaves, of course.  I'll make you strip for me.  I'll make you strip for them.  You'll be touching yourself because I tell you.  You will be... fun." The stoat smirked. "Just think of your humiliation at flopping about in front everyone simply because you are told to.  You will do it because you don't want your fellow slaves to get hurt and I will hurt them very badly if you even try to say no.  Shoo now, back to your pen, slave."

	Martin clenched both fists in anger.  Badrang was going to make a complete fool of him.  The young mouse turned around as if to leave, then turned back again.

	"You'll be defeated one day, Badrang.  I'll cut your scrawny throat myself with my father's sword and you and all of Marshank will be nothing but a bad memory spit upon by good beasts everywhere! Your cruelty will not be forgotten, but you will be!"

	"ENOUGH!" Badrang snarled. "Your threats grow tiresome.  Gurrad, take this slave to the cellar and lock him up.  He's to stay there until further notice with no contact from the other slaves." The tyrant took Martin's clothing from a guard, then tossed it behind his throne after making sure Martin was watching. "You won't be wearing these again for a while, mouse.  Just think what the other slaves will believe when they see you paraded through camp bare and... rather messy." He savored the look Martin gave him, then waved Gurrad on. "Take him away."

	Gurrad darted away from the door where he'd been trying to keep his paws clean and grabbed Martin's wrist. "Yes, Lord Badrang.  Come on, you!"

	Martin didn't fight as he was led away.  His cheeks burned with the humiliation.  All of them had been seen naked by the other slaves at one point or another.  It was never enjoyed, not even if it were a female seen by males or a male by females.  There was no love to it and no comfort.  There was only fear and domination.  Most of those he passed averted their eyes from him, those that didn't just felt sorry for him.

	The few that actually took a real look at him were alarmed and disgusted at the mess.  It wouldn't have been the first time Badrang or his hordebeasts had taken advantage of a slave.  Felldoh the squirrel watched, though, all the way until Martin was out of sight down the stairs to the old cellar.  The young squirrel looked back at the path of sticky wet footprints in the dirt, then back to the cellar entrance.  He could do nothing but push his anger into the back of his mind and go about his work, for now.

	The cellar was a rather dark place, before the torches were lit.  It had originally been a root cellar for food, then it had been turned into a sort of makeshift prison.  Four small cells with locking metal barred doors stood along one wall, a small table and chair sat outside them.  There wasn't much else to it save a tub of water and a cot in each cell and a small well near the stairs.

	"Get in there, slave." Gurrad shoved Martin into one of the middle cells and locked the door behind him. "I don't know what you did, but you really got under Badrang's skin.  Not a smart move for a little mousey."

	Martin ignored the rat and looked at his spunk coated pelt.  At least there was a quarter full tub in the cell and the water didn't even smell too bad when he sniffed it.  He really wanted to clean up.  His cum or not, it'd be a mess if he had to let it dry in his fur.

	Gurrad sat on the little table and watched Martin scrub his face in the water. "Wot? Yer washin' it out? It's not nice to wash it off, even if it's yours.  You're supposed to lick it clean, that's what the slaves usually do after I'm done with 'em.  Hmph, fine, waste it like that and spoil your drinking water, see if I care."

	The mouse ignored the teasing as he washed.  A lucky find of an old cloth tucked against the bottom of the tub made cleaning much easier, too.  He dipped it in and ran it through his pelt against the grain of the fur time after time.  Semen was hard to get out without soap!

	"You're a right stupid slave, aint' ya? Huh, badmouthing to the tyrant and saying he's gonna get beaten by slaves! You lot don't stand a chance against me and Badrang! Heh, you missed a spot on your forehead."

	Martin jabbed his paw back into the tub harder than needed.  That rat was getting on his nerves.  It was bad enough he had to be down there naked.  Having to listen to Gurrad preaching defeat to him as well was just too much.

	"We'll beat him, just you wait and see..." Martin meant to think it silently rather than say it aloud.

	"Yeah, sure you will.  I shall just go and lay out and beg for mercy from a bunch of pitiful slaves, shall I?" Gurrad never took his eyes off the scrubbing young slave mouse.  Watching Martin rubbing over his muscular butt and thighs was rather pleasant.  Certainly much better than working up in the fort above. "You should be happy you're just down here and not in some smelly old pit or sold to some corsair as a galley slave!"

	Semen made the water a lot more cloudy than it had been, but Martin still dipped the washcloth in time after time.  He'd hoped Gurrad would leave before he got to his balls, but the rat just kept teasing and talking.  There was nothing left to do but scrub them in front of him, no matter how much he hated doing it.

	Gurrad nodded to himself while the mouse slid his paws and the wet cloth over those impressive grapefruits.  Generally, he'd prefer a female, but there was nothing wrong with appreciating something special.  That mouse was definitely something special down there if nothing else.

	"Don't forget the crevices, mousey.  You got to get it all good 'n deep! Wouldn't want to miss anything, after all." Gurrad loved the way Martin's ears flattened along his head in frustration.  He really did want to stay and watch it all, but he didn't dare stay too long.  He had duties up above to take care of.  Being a captain was such a chore. "You stay here now and wait for Badrang to remember ya.  I'm sure that'll only be a few days."

	Martin kept washing while proudly upright as long as he could until the sniggering rat was up the stairs, then sagged in defeat. "How are we going to get rid of Badrang? There are just too many soldiers!"

	With nothing better to do, Martin kept washing.  Neither he nor the water were getting any cleaner after a while, but at least it was something to do and felt rather good.  He needed something good after such a bad day.

	When he finally grew bored of scrubbing himself, Martin tossed the cloth onto the edge of the tub and looked around for something to dry himself off with.  His fur was clean, more or less, but all spiked and ruffled from the scrubbing.  Even his short mouse fur could get, well, mousy.

	There wasn't much around the cell, but there was a decent sized cloth on the cot.  It was probably a blanket.  Some of it had worn down a bit rough, but there were more soft areas than rough ones.  Not the best towel, but it would do.

	Martin scrubbed over his face, first, wanting to get that area dry and smoothed out first.  His big ears compressed under the scrubbing only to bounce back out again when he moved to his cheeks and back of neck.  He tilted his muzzle up to rub under his chin and the front of his neck.

	His chest was easy enough, though he chose to use both paws to scrub the towel over it instead of one just for the novelty of it.  Usually the guards wouldn't have let him dry off at all if he'd gotten wet.  They'd just work him and the other slaves until they were dry, or at least only sweaty.

	Martin shifted to one paw for the rest, though, just to make it take longer.  There was no reason to hurry and he could just enjoy himself as he'd enjoyed the washing.  Drying off wasn't particularly pleasurable for him, but an idea to show off as though a pretty maid were watching him do it made it more fun.

	He bent down rather further than needed to scrub the towel along his legs.  After a moment he turned and set one foot on top of the cot instead to give his imaginary viewer a good view of his balls and long dangling penis as he dried his inner thigh and around his groin.  Martin cupped his balls with both paws through the towel, then chuckled to himself and simply wrapped them in the towel to outline them through it.

	His balls slipped free and he slid the towel back to do his firm buttocks and tail base.  He wondered if a maiden would enjoy watching him dry off back there.  She probably would laugh at him more than being interested.  Martin still bent over a bit and wiggled his butt at the stairs.  Even if a mouse doe wouldn't like watching him doing it, maybe one of Badrang's creatures would come down and see it flaunting at them.

	That thought had him feeling a bit happier, but he could only dry his rump for so long before finally moving to his back, shoulders, and finishing along his arms.  His fur felt frizzy when he was finished, but he was mostly dry and feeling fairly decent despite what had happened.  He wrung out the towel and set it on the edge of the tub to dry before looking around for something to do.

	Martin tugged at the door for a while, kicking it and trying to break the lock, but it was far too solid to budge.  Both hinges were securely anchored and accessible from outside rather than inside.  The walls were barred just as much as the door.  Thick boards lined the floor, slightly rotten, but there were some years left in them before they gave out.  The ceiling bars were just as secure.  He wasn't getting out any way but through the door when it was unlocked again.

	Martin sighed and plopped down into the cell's too small cot.  He was tired.  That full release had been really draining.  If it weren't for the circumstances, it would have been truly wonderful.

	After a few minutes, he tried to sleep.  Images of Badrang came to mind along with the guards and him standing in front of them stripped naked.  They had made him pleasure himself for their entertainment.  The vermin planned to do it again, too.  How could any beast use another like that?

	It was disgusting using sex as a weapon.  It was cruel.  They were cruel.  He hadn't wanted to touch himself for them.  He hadn't dared not to.  Even if it had felt good in its own way, it was bad.

	Martin could see himself swelling again in his mind.  He was swelling in his cot, too.  They really had been surprised at his size, though.  Amazed even.  Badrang had practically choked on his own tongue from the shock.  Maybe he'd choke Badrang to death by ramming it down the stoat's cruel throat.  That would show the vermin.  Of course, he'd much rather share it with a sweet mousemaid.

	He smiled and murmured to himself. "A mousemaid that didn't mind a bit of stretching, anyway."

	There were a few maidens in Marshank, but he didn't think about them or the sad looks on their faces.  Martin imagined a sweet young doe picking herbs in front of him, knowing he was watching and purposefully keeping her rump high in the air.  They'd enjoy teasing each other a while, then she'd see him growing and encourage him with her soft paws under his tunic.  Her whiskers would tickle his tip.  She'd want him big, too.

	She'd have big hips under her dress, a big smile, and a tight pussy that would stretch around him.  They'd both be perfect for one another rolling around in the grass making love.  Even after making love, they could still cuddle and kiss and touch.

	Martin could feel himself growing larger in time to his fantasy maiden's efforts.  She'd be so proud of how he could vanquish vermin with one sword after dazing them by flaunting the other.  It felt good to fantasize in private.  His cock slid up his belly again and Martin opened his eyes.  It would feel better taking care of his arousal without Badrang and the other slavers around, too.

	"If it felt that good with them watching..." The slave mouse shifted to the edge of the cot. "I can't imagine how wonderful it'll feel without them."

	Martin let his legs dangle over the edge and simply grabbed his shaft with both paws to jerk it just as he had before.  The freedom of being alone made him smile as he explored his body.  He'd never been alone for so long and it was exhilarating even if he was technically being punished.  No guards watched his cock sway.  No other beasts, friend or foe, saw what he was doing with himself.  Nobody judged his size or tried to humiliate him.  There was just the pleasure of his own body.

	Martin stared down at his own cocktip, drunk with the freedom of it.  His paws still pumped up and down, a small stream of pre flowed from it.  A whim made him tilt his muzzle down to lick at the clear fluid.  He lifted his head up, his paws stopped, and he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, letting the subtle texture and taste coat his mouth.  That was interesting.

	After a long slow breath, he grabbed his cock again and gave one jerk up and back before leaving his paws at the base.  His tongue had felt better.  Why not use that? Martin nodded faintly to himself and tilted his muzzle back down to kiss his tip.

	The width of his glans gave him a hint of resistance before it popped into his muzzle, but Martin had no trouble after that.  He curled his lips over his teeth to keep them out of the way and found a new world of pleasurable self service with his tongue.  A vengeful thought of ramming it down Badrang's throat and choking him made the mouse chuckle to himself and try to shove more in.

	Martin swirled his tongue around his still streaming pre and let it coat his entire glans.  What didn't stick he swallowed down with considerable enjoyment.  Squeezing at the base of his cock let him feel the flow and blocking it for a second let him have a large burst when he let go, making his cheeks bulge before swallowing.  If he'd have been free, he wondered how long ago he'd have discovered such things.

	He kicked his legs absentmindedly while sucking his tip.  His head bobbed up and down slowly to feel the rim pop in and out of his lips.  It was easy and fun and Martin rather liked the slight flavor of his own dick along with the constant flow of pre that coated his tongue.

	His cheeks pulled in when he sucked harder.  They bulged out when he tried blowing instead and it made him pop his muzzle off briefly with a laugh.  He felt better than he had in a long time just exploring himself in private.  After another second, he popped his tip right back in.

	Martin drilled his tongue around his urethra and let out a long sigh. "Mmm..."

	His paws squeezed at the bottom inches of his shaft while his head lightly bobbed up and down his tip and an inch or two beyond.  He liked feeling his lips dragging along his sensitive flesh there.  It was definitely something he should have done long ago, he decided.

	He sat on his cot sucking himself for a couple minutes, swallowing his pre and simply enjoying his own body.  Occasionally, he rubbed his shaft while he bobbed his head along it, but he mostly focused on his oral pleasure.  It really did feel good just pumping his muzzle up and down himself.

	Pleasure built more slowly than it had in front of Badrang and his filth.  Martin didn't try to push it out as fast as he could and simply savored the feelings of sucking and licking himself.  The urge to do more, though, steadily nagged at him.  Despite how good it felt, he soon wanted to paw off more than he wanted to use his mouth.

	Martin tilted his head up until his tip popped noisily from his mouth and lightly rubbed it with one paw.  He only rubbed it a few seconds before slipping off the cot and moving next to the tub.  The water was still cloudy with what he'd already washed off himself.  It could be cloudier, though.

	Yes, it could be much cloudier.  Martin grasped himself with both paws, fresh inspiration running through him.  He could fill the tub.  If he were free, he could fill a lover.  His paws pumped faster.  If he were free, he could be with anybody and do nearly anything.

	A lovely maiden to share that freedom with, of course.  Happy and eager to take him in, she'd make sure he never had to suck himself, unless he wanted to.  Soft paws to rub him instead of his own paws.  Soft breasts to press his cock against and between when they hugged.

	Martin kept his eyes on the cloudy water, seeing things in the faintly shifting liquid as he thought them.  He could see a beautiful mouse bathing in a stream with him laughing and splashing her.  They were on a journey somewhere and were happy together.  She grabbed him by his shaft and he pulled her down on top of him where they made love on the grass.

	His paws beat faster in time to the faint image.  Martin's eyes dried without blinking, but he refused to let that happy scene leave throughout his pleasure.  There was another with them, but that one stayed out of the way to give them privacy.  That gift of privacy made him all the happier while the pleasure built.

	Her breasts were small, but she could take every inch of his cock into her loins and he could practically feel her weight pressing on his balls when she got to the base.  In and out, their muzzles together in a kiss, over and over, bouncing in time to the stream's lapping waters.  It took a few seconds more for Martin to realize the water sound was his own pre splattering into the tub, but by then he was too close to care.

	He and his mental self came together.  One flooded a wonderful mousemaid.  The other shot his load into the dirty water of a prison sell tub.

	Martin let the image fade after he came when his spurting cum churned the water and broke it up.  The sound of his orgasm filled the room with each shot shooting loudly into the water.  He let the first several squirts arc into the air before landing in or around the tub, but soon pushed his cock down to actually aim them in.

	It was oddly satisfying making that much noise and to watch the thick loads spread out in the water time after time.  He took deep calming breaths as he let the tension flow out of him with his cum.  The imprisonment was nearly a vacation after being worked hard most of his life.  He watched the tub steadily fill with his own seed, nobody was making him do it or anything else for once.

	The water was soon hardly water.  His orgasm kept pumping almost as long as it had in front of Badrang and the tub swelled to half full and then to completely full.  Semen was just sloshing over the edges when his orgasm finally faded.  The young mouse stared at the nearly white tub for several seconds through his long afterglow, then walked the few feet back to his cot and plopped tiredly down.

	His large spent dick hung to the left, leaking a last several drips onto the floor while he lay back and closed his eyes.  That was the first pleasant time he'd had in Marshank, and he suspected it would be one of the last.  There were so many barriers in the way to happiness, but he would break through them.  Marshank WOULD fall.  He WOULD kill Badrang and get his father's sword back.  A grim smile spread across his face as he fell asleep.  At least he still had his other sword to wield.
