My name is not important. Not to me, or to anyone I serve. My mother called me Ellar, but that was long ago. To those who need me, I am whatever they wish to call me. I am never told how they came to me, only that they are needful, and that I am useful.

At times, I have served as a shoulder on which was laid a great burden of the soul, or of the heart. At others, I have undertaken in physical labour for the good of he who I serve. Most often, I sate the needs of others to injure, to abuse, or to lust.

I am a male mouse of common stock, with grey fur and a wispy tail. My Keepers tend to my fur and treat any injuries or maladies I suffer for my cause, and provide me with nourishment and shelter when it is not otherwise available, and for that I am grateful. It frees me to serve to the best of my power.

And within my cell, I serve well. My charges most often come to me, seeking satisfaction of their baser desires, and I am a capable outlet of their urges. Into my arms, I take their shoulders, and into my body I take their carnal flesh, and all that issues thereforth.

Or if they seek an outlet for rage, I take unto me their insults and their abuses. I suffer their injuries gladly, so that they can be whole and fulfilled. My body and my mind are theirs, and my heart truly gladdens with every thrust of arm or hip, for it means that my charge will leave me sated.

If simple labour is needed, my Keepers see to it that I am trained and equipped for the task, and I work and toil at the job until it is complete, or until my exhaustion or employer's will forbids my continuance.

This is my lot in life, and for it I am happy. I was the smallest of my siblings, though not the youngest. The runt of a litter is given no easy life, but for me, my place was always one of joy and fulfillment, rather than the anger and resentment most of my kind grow into.

I was happy to please others in any way I could, and I was happiest when serving. Once our mother passed away, I was taken to an orphanage away from my brothers and sister. The older furs felt that my eagerness to please was unbecoming in one so young, and that being isolated would give me a new perspective.

However, in the end I chose this life of servitude willingly, and went into it with open arms and a clear heart. No matter what happened to my body, I knew that I would only ever be happy if I could see to it that others were happy.

And so here I am, lying on my back while the wolf who is my charge breeds me with all the rough fury his kind are known for. I can feel his knot seeking entrance to my body, and I wonder briefly whether he'll succomb to his rutting, or whether his culture's taboo against using it is strongly enough felt in him that he'll refrain.

"Please," I beg aloud, "please don't hold back. Let yourself go, I will keep your faith."

I am not sure if he can hear me or not, his eyes are scrunched closed in a snarl, as they have been since he began. I was told by my Keepers, before he entered, that he had much he needed help with, and though I know this means he will come back to me, it saddens my heart to see so much pain in his life.

As his last few thrusts drive home, he reaches down and simulates a tie with his hand. It seems that though willing to mark my insides, he is still not willing to mate with me yet. This too, saddens me briefly, before he moans quietly into the room. I can only make out the words 'good mouse' from his mumbling, but this makes me smile anyway and run my claws gently through the fur on the back of his neck.

He mutters appreciatively and nuzzles into my neck, his hand returning to it's position mirroring the first, just by my shoulder, and his knot stays firmly pressed just outside of me. I kiss his cheek and close my eyes in my own private sort of rapture, knowing that though he may not have tied, I have still satisfied him.

And really, that's all that I need.