“Here we are, Count Malcolm de’ Malchi… Gordy’s Slave Market.”

A deep voice resonated from beyond the red curtains covering the noble wolf inside his golden carriage, as it usually was every time he was brought anywhere: it was one of his two fox knights communicating the arrival at their destination.

“Perfetto.” The lupine simply replied in his native language, preparing himself to step outside; in the meantime, Malcolm breathed in the regal atmosphere that the golden walls and leather seats were creating, knowing he’d be out of that realm for a few minutes.

When an arm peeked through an opening in the drapes, the count silently grabbed it and stepped outside, not knowing that’d be his final act as a noblewolf.

With a poker face fitting for a high-class individual about to enter a world filled with worthless slaves, Malcolm finally revealed himself to everyone around him: a purple wolf with his head topped off by a cavalier hat and his face partly concealed by a transparent yellow veil, fitting for his unreachable superior status; that idea of lush aristocracy was further reinforced by the clothes he was wearing, which consisted of a light blue and black tunic displaying the emblem of Malc’s lineage (a red heart pierced by an arrow), a teal cloak the wolf quickly wrapped around his torso and legs to give off more prestige, and brown Cracows to cover his feet and calves.

Just like Malcolm revealed himself to the world, it revealed itself to him: a round, grassy square, which was marked by a huge sign reading “Gordy’s Slave Market” in capital letters and was delimited by all sorts of tents, signs, and, most importantly, slaves in various positions.

At that sight, the wolf kept his deadpan expression as his other knight appeared from the carriage and placed himself right next to the first one: the two were pretty much identical, with white moustaches, open head armours, vests similar to the wolf’s and swords on their belts making them stand out.

“Seguiteci, signore.” One of the two respectfully instructed the wolf with his hands behind his back, before both turned around and started walking towards the entrance sign.

Malc followed them at his usual pace, completely impassable as he held his cape in place with his hands inside.

Once the trio paraded under the sign, where a jester shouted unspeakable vulgar sentences to attract attention to the marketplace (such as “sluts”, “whores”, and “bitches”, all coupled with expressions to further humiliate the goods being sold there), Malc found himself disgusted by just how degraded life was outside of his court: the pavilions and signs matched the crude words of the jester (“Cheap bitches”, “Sluts, trained and tagged”, “Kitties”, and so on), while the slaves’ condition was… something he knew he’d never experience, he foolishly thought to himself. In particular, the wolf noticed the sweaty bodies of the various slaves (mostly males, due to their higher physical stamina) shining under the rays of the hot, early afternoon sun; they were under so much strain due to their positions, in fact, that the stench of sweat had become prevalent in the area. Whether they were kneeling in stocks, hogtied near a post or trapped in a bird cage, one thing was for certain: the looks of disdain and fear towards the noblewolf were as prevalent as the gagged noises of frustration.

There was, however, one notable exception: hidden in the “Locks N’ Stocks” tent, a veteran slave had broken free of his restraints and was peeping out, waiting for a chance to escape without any unfriendly eyes on him.

Sensing a presence nearby, the escapee didn’t make a move, instead watching the two knights talk with one another as they walked beside each other.

“Il nostro signore vuole due schiavi per soddisfare le sue necessità: uno come guardia nel dungeon, l’altro come massaggiatore personale.” The one furthest from the fugitive explained to the other, using his fingers to indicate the number two.

They were distracted, but it was better to wait for the noblewolf to walk by, too.

As soon as he saw him, though, the outlaw revolutionized his plans: that wolf looked exactly like him… maybe, if he stole his robe and acted as him, he could not only escape from slavery, but also enjoy a life of luxury in a royal palace while shoving that count into the painful world he’d endured until then!

A sadistic smirk formed on the soon-to-be former slave: all he had to do was wait for the wolf to walk in front of the tent’s opening, which happened when the guards started discussing the sale of an individual bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross, and they’d swap places against Malcolm’s will.

The target wasn’t suspecting a thing, he’d only become aware of his predicament after the… POUNCE!

In less than a second, Malcolm found himself with two arms coming out of the tent and pressing against him like ghastly appearances: one went below his right armpit to reach his left shoulder, while the other shoved part of his veil into his mouth, effectively gagging him and making it impossible to ask for help.

If someone was watching the abduction take place, they would’ve only seen the wolf’s eyes widen in shock, because the count disappeared into the tent 856 milliseconds later and no one would hear from him again for a few minutes.

The only one that knew of Malc’s whereabouts was the captor himself, who finally dropped some hints on his personality. “Got you now, you noble bitch!” He growled while grinning, forcefully shoving the cloaked wolf against his naked form, as the two stepped back in a very rapid and clumsy way towards the back of the pavilion.

“HMMMMGH! NMMMMPGH!” The noblewolf attempted to scream at the top of his lungs, fighting off the wannabe kidnapper by clenching the arm around his upper body with his paws in order to scratch it with his claws.

A heavy struggle ensued between the two wolves, with the naked one aiming to trip the clothed one and force him in a sitting position in order to strip him of his garments, whereas the noble one fought for his freedom and his nobility.

As the commotion went on, it became clear the former slave was having the upper hand: in the chaos, he’d managed to knock Malcolm’s cavalier hat off and was about to do the same with his veil, since he’d successfully sneaked his hand beneath it and was gagging the noblewolf by grasping his muzzle like a handle.

“FMMMMMPGH! MMMMMMGH!” Malc continued with his defiant battle, but the chances of victory were becoming slimmer: as a matter of fact, the rebel slave was able to turn the aristocratic wolf’s head wherever he wanted, clearly showing who was in control.

Taking advantage of that, the captor pressed the two snouts against one another, staring right into Malcolm’s trembling eyes as he spoke. “Malcolm de’ Malchi… Your presence here is a blessing, because you’ve given me the opportunity of a lifetime… Now, if you behave like a good boy, I won’t have to resort to too much violence.” His voice was deep and flat, almost emotionless.

The wolf could only respond with a nervous nod, a terrified whimper underlining his real mental state.

“Good… Very good…” The wolf seemed pleased, his movements becoming much softer: he moved his right arm from Malc’s body to behind his head without any sudden snaps, before gently grabbing the headband connected to the veil, making it rise slowly over the wolf’s ears, and finally dropping it beside the two.

“Now, I’ll gag you, then strip you naked, and finally tie you here… Don’t you dare make any noise, because I have nothing to lose…” The now dominant slave kept his cold demeanour, typical of a psychopathic maniac that would explode into hysterical laughter once he’d finish his job.

Malc nodded again, his heart pounding as his scared teeth became visible on the inner end of his muzzle: he was completely at the mercy of his look-alike, and there was nothing he could do to save himself, except obey… As a result, he remained still and watched the nude guy use his only free hand to expertly handle a thread of rope: in particular, the outlaw placed the start of the string on top of Malc’s snout, just behind his other hand, before using his flexible fingers to make it loop not once, but twice, around the noblewolf’s snout. Finally, with his other paw’s availability restored, the slave used the rigger skills he’d acquired from all the times he was on the receiving end to create a perfect knot.

“Mmmmmmmh… Nmmmmph…” The gagged wolf’s initial response consisted of tremors all over his body and light whimpers of terror, so much so that he didn’t even think about untying the rope around his muzzle while he still could. He was already feeling naked and helpless, he couldn’t even feel the protection of his regal clothes still on him… in that situation, they meant nothing to him: they weren’t creating submission around him like they did in the past, but they were acting as a big, red target, instead, and that would be the last memory Malcolm de’ Malchi would have of them.

“Now… Toss all your clothes aside, no exceptions… Or else, I’ll whip you with this.” The slave wolf commanded like a calm emperor, stretching the length of rope with both his hands like a crop: he wasn’t bluffing.

Such behaviour from the runaway was subduing Malc with frightening ease, together with the grin and the green eyes piercing him like a bullet… The submissive nature he’d been hiding beneath his status had come out. “Y-Y-Ymph, fmmmrh…” He muttered feebly, moving his hands to the clip on his upper chest to begin stripping.

Firstly, the fallen noble undid the clip connecting the cape to his vest, causing the former to unceremoniously fall to the ground like a plastic bag. Afterwards, the wolf loosened the belt around his waist and let it drop to his feet, therefore making his vest’s lower half widen. Following that, the gagged prisoner took his main piece of clothing off him like someone would take a t-shirt off: grab it, bend the arms up to let the head out, do the same with the sleeves over his arms, and boom, he was almost as naked as the former slave. Finally, the nude noble took off his Cracows with cold sweat running through his furry body, and the two became pretty much indistinguishable!

They were both twinks with purple fur, with the only difference, at that time, being in their facial expressions: the servant that was climbing his way to royalty was boasting a 32-teethed grin, whereas the noblewolf that was capitulating to slavery didn’t even have complete freedom over his own face!

“You know, if that’s the length required to become a noble, then I guess I’m more than fit~” He chuckled as he suddenly teased, his eyes having had a rapid peek at Malc’s flaccid member.

The teased wolf responded with a blush forming on his cheeks and his head being shaken sideways, as if to wipe the embarrassment off him. By doing so, however, he failed to spot what the other wolf was doing: with a sneakiness fitting for a lupine, the fugitive had moved Malcolm’s hands to behind his back and was handling the rope like a cowboy about to do some expert rigging.

And when it struck, craziness levels in the evil wolf skyrocketed! Without the slightest care for the gagged wolf’s well-being, the former slave started wrapping rope around Malc’s chest and wrists with crude violence, without aiming to create precise or inescapable knots, but only the tightest possible ones. His abrupt change of strategy was emphasized by the way he screamed in elation. “FINALLY! After all these years, I’ve got my ticket out of this Hell!” He shouted as he lowered his left knee and rotated his whole body around 135° clockwise when compared to Malc’s back, so as to be in the best position to pull the ropes he was holding with both hands.

“MMPH! -HMM!” Malc was surprised by the sheer aggressiveness his captor began showing: it got to the point where he was yanked back by the ropes that had somehow rolled up over his wrists both vertically and horizontally, forcing him into a sitting position. The landing on his butt was rough, and he couldn’t oppose the superior strength of the ropes playing him like a fiddle.

As a result, there was nothing he could do to avoid his fate: with his legs brought beneath his torso and bent one over the other, he growled while feeling not one, not two, but four knots being made in the only area he couldn’t reach with his wiggling hands, together with the snug sensation of the ropes digging into his fur!

Malcolm de’ Malchi had fallen. And a new noblewolf was on the rise.

“You see, I’ve suffered for years here… Never sold, always berated… The typical shit of a slave deemed unworthy…” The free wolf returned to his calmer tone, monologuing in front of the defeated hero like a villain, as he grabbed the vest and belt.

Malc closed his eyes and lowered his head. “GGGGMH!” He grunted in frustration, not wanting to see who he used to be up until a few minutes earlier.

The runaway wasn’t bothered. “…Bound in all sorts of positions… Some named, some unnamed, all it mattered to them was that I suffered…” He continued, putting the fitting vest and belt on his body, before grabbing the cape.

“Everyone saw me as a slut, a whore… Spit received better treatment than me… I was the laughing stock of Gordian & Co.” He put on the cape and moved the hat towards his head.

“…The effects on my body are still visible today, but I know they’ll be nicely hidden now… Thank you, Malcolm de’ Malchi. May all the latest circumstances that brought to this speech be blessed for all eternity…” The hat partly covered his delighted face, as he moved on to the Cracows.

“Now, I shall finally acquire the point of view of my abusers, wage war on them, and get the much deserved revenge on them… Everyone will call me… Evil Malc!” He didn’t stop speaking while putting the shoes on and walking towards the exit.

Only in front of the exit did he stop for a moment, staring at the bound wolf that had taken his former slave self’s place: he wanted to see him look at him with anger, and that’s what he got.

“NNNNM! LHF MHH GRRFF!!!” Malcolm hopped in place in a futile attempt to get closer to his evil look-alike, appalled by the smugness he was displaying while unrightfully carrying the emblem of his own lineage.

Exactly the reaction the villainous wolf wanted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve prayed for this! Enjoy your new life… Because I know I will, heh heh heh~” He seemingly concluded the interaction by turning around, covering himself with the cape just like Malc would always do, and exiting as the new Malcolm de’ Malchi..