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CONTENT WARNING:

The story you are about to read contains explicit and detailed depictions of the following:

Non-Consensual Sex & Penetration

Injury

Bondage & Genital Caging

Sexual Servitude

Reader discretion is advised, Check the description and tags for more information.

The light of the sun had shifted to an ever-so-slight auburn with the passage of the day, Puro’s 3rd day of travel. He was ready for it to be over if he was to be particularly honest. The donkey had never been outside his modest but quiet town of Ligero in his 20 years, so when the young acolyte Mentiroso asked him to bring a shipment of celeriac hematos to the “nearby” town of Fachada, he jumped at the opportunity to finally see the world a bit more. And luckily the tips of the very tallest buildings of said town were just beginning to appear over the horizon.

Puro put the word “nearby” in quotes because, well, nothing was truly close to Ligero, or Fachada for that matter. There was a river that cut through the countryside parallel to the two towns, but there was no way he was going to safely transport all this produce down such stream, with all its narrowing and bending. Produce, Puro might add, made the journey feel like 5 days rather than 3.

Still he pressed on, knowing the importance of this delivery. He recounted how the church had recently loosened its restrictions on celeriac hematos, a vegetable known for its bitterness and going great in many soups. But there has also long been a secondary purpose. The vegetable is known having many properties to do with the humors and, if used in certain rituals, can have drastic effects on how blood operates in the body.

Thus, for centuries–

“OW!” Puro yelped as a pain in his lower leg interrupted his train of thought. He looked down to see a small snake slither away after making its presence known on the donkey. Puro recognized it as one of the non-venomous varieties, he’d dealt with them on the farm semi-frequently. But they could still break the skin if they wanted to. And this one did. Luckily he was almost to town, perhaps he could find an apothecary once he’d arrived. For now, he attempted to distract himself with his thoughts once more.

The short of it was, the church had kept a total ban on the growth, possession, and sale of celeriac hematos due to its association with rituals considered dangerous. But after many long months of council, word had come down on high that the vegetable could now be cultivated and distributed in limited amounts, and under the supervision of those in the church.

And so, after a good summer season Puro had the quantity Mentiroso had requested him to grow and was given directions to the town the acolyte wished for him to deliver them too. The town the equine now finally found himself at the gates of.

The sky had reached a brilliant burnt gold color that cast long shadows in the wake of the many buildings that lead to the town square. For a Friday, even in late afternoon, there was little stirring save for local urban critters yet unseen. Nonetheless, Puro made his way towards the center of town where a large fountain lay, whispering its watery song to the tune of its fluted stone contours.

The male studied the placard on the southernmost point of the base, only to discover it bear no words to speak of. Simply a crude rendering of two farmer’s tools which he recognized immediately as a spade and a pair of shears aligned vertically. The only semblance of writing to speak of was a date below the symbol. Try as he might, however, Puro couldn’t make out the numbers, only that they were far removed from this one.

After sustaining a few moments of himself merely on the ambiance of the fountain the young man retrieved a silver coin from his pouch, kissed it, and flung it by his thumb into the basin. The metal offering made a notable plunk sound upon reached the surface of the water, followed by the distinct clack of its flat end met the stone at the bottom.

There was… a stillness that followed. As if some noise Puro wasn’t previously aware of had ceased as a result of his actions. His eyes turned to where his ears had swiveled, and found–

Nothing, nothing of note. Just more motionless storefronts bathed in the over-toasted glow of the farewell sun. Puro was suddenly once again aware of the pain in his leg. He decided to take his chances and hope the store he was to deliver the crops too also had something to treat it. He pawed through his tired and distracted mind, desperately trying to remember the name of the business.

Like a divine path laid before him he remembered it as soon as he spotted it out: Adhrit’s Agricultures. He stopped before the door of wood and glass, the sound from before had returned, now identifiable as coming from inside the building. Puro stole himself and opened the door, it creaked loudly as he did so. After a few slow steps he was halfway between the door and the counter. It was empty as the town was before.

Puro already had half a mind to leave, but why? He’d come all this way, why leave? ‘Because this don’t feel right somehow’ the donkey thought to himself. Why was it all so empty? Where was everyone? Even at this hour there should be at least some folks about. And wouldn’t someone expecting a shipment be here to welcome it?

“Hello?”

No response. Just that ever-present noise. But more consistent this time, and coming from a shorter distance than before. Puro’s legs began to carry him to a door beyond the counter, past stacks of wood planters and bottled herbs & spices. They all hit his nose, but none distracted him enough to steer him from course. He reached the door, sure the sound was coming from the other side. And joined by what sounded like… voices? The donkey could bear it no longer, he turned the knob and slowly opened the door.

• • •

Malroth had been extraordinarily busy as of late. And by late meant no less than the past year. The ritual that allowed him to inhabit his new body took many moons of preparation and prerequisite. But it left him with much to catch up on as usual business in Fachada resumed. First on his list: Repay those who had helped him so dearly. And he knew just where to start.

Over in Ligero, there’d been word from the church that the ban on celeriac hematos was to be lifted. So he’d informed a lowly farmer; the son of traders, and someone he’d had his eye on for a while; that he’d like a shipment of said crop to be transported to Fachada as soon as they’d grown. They were one of the most important and personal crops to one of his most loyal followers. And they’d make the perfect gift as recompense for his efforts and loyalty to the goat.

Speaking of said follower, he needed to make his way to his shop to pick up some produce of his own, and with that thought Malroth was on his way. It was a short couple minute walk from his abode on the southern edge of the town to Adhrit’s Agricultures, and yet the amber light from the sun was already dancing with the moody sapphires of the rest of the sky.

The goat opened the door at the front of the shop and grinned upon seeing the tiger still behind the counter. “Good evening, Addy! Closing up for the evening I presume?” The big cat smiled back at his leader, “Yup! About that time. Still churning my head like a milll trying to think of what that surprise you promised me could be.”

“Ahhh, still haven’t forgotten that I see.” The goat crooned. “Well good! I said it would be a while but that period should have whittled down to about a day or two at the most by now. No longer than that I assure.” Adhrit finished sealing a glass jar with the remainder of his stock of radishes inside. “Well good, don’t know what it could be but anything relating to this shop–“ he places the jar next to a row others on a mantel near eye level “–has a shelf life.”

Malroth takes the tiger’s hands in his own, bringing them to chest height. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. I trust in only the best, you know that.” Adhrit’s smile was warm and wide “That I do, my lord. That I do.”

The goat smiled in kind, releasing his hands before clapping them together yet again and returning his gaze to the shop. “SO! Anything you need help with closing up? I’ll shall ask for what I need only once you’re done with your obligations.” The tiger snapped his fingers and made his way around the counter. “Yes actually, I could use some help with recovering one of the storage shelves in the back. If an old gruff like you can handle it that is”

Malroth followed, not able to hold back his laughter “Hey, I like to think I’ve.. changed my ways.” Adhrit unlocked the door that lead to the rear of the shop, revealing shelves and racks lined with all manner of pickled & dried produce, carefully organized seeds & pods, tools for cultivation, and anything in between. “On the outside maybe, but I’m happy to report that after your little swap with that farmer boy, you haven’t changed a damn bit.” The dark lord’s chuckle turned low as the sea “THAT’S what I like to hear.”

The goat examined a jar on the shelf labeled ‘Asparagus Week I’, the loose stalks danced as he rolled the glass in his hand before replacing it on the shelf. “Now, what was it you wanted me to help wi–“ The tiger’s lips collided against Malroth’s before he could finish. Only parting after several long moments had past. “That, my lord. If you would indulge an old servant of course.”

Malroth placed his hands on either side of Adhrit’s face. “The moment I say no to such a request, is the moment you know I am truly dead. Now get those foolish garments off my beautiful, loyal kitty.” Adhrit did not need to be told twice. Using his tail to shut the door, he hurried in unbuttoning his top and undoing the belt around his waist, letting both them and his leggings fall to the floor. “My lord, let me” he said, then proceeding to assist his master in undoing his own dress, an action Malroth let only those he held closest do before himself.

Finally, the men lay naked on the floor of the room, squirming and folding into knots and other such shapes undiscovered upon each other, and practicing the same dance with their tongues in each-other’s mouths. Malroth felt the soft, warm tiger embrace his body from almost every angle. He could never get enough of the big feline, not in his old age or now in this refreshed form.

Adhrit’s deep voice somehow cut through their collective moaning and wriggling “My lord, it’s a huge request. But please, I need to feel you. I need to feel one of your alms again. It’s been so long.” After only a moment came the reply from Malroth, “I shall grant you this, my dear lamb.” With these words, the goat felt the feline’s legs wrap around his waist, gently cupping his hindquarters as he set into position in front of his servant’s rear entrance. Malroth closed his eyes and began his chant.

As soon the markhor’s penis touched Adhrit’s hole, it sent a shiver down his spine. It was a chill he was familiar with, and grew to love, as if his own leaking shaft wasn’t enough indication. The tiger moaned loudly, but not enough to overpower the long, singular note coming from his master. His breathing grew heavier as the goat went deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Soon, their dance became a pattern, a rhythm in its own right, as smooth as waves on the shore. The rhythmic thrusting of Malroth into his big loyal tiger, served both of their desire for pleasure better than either could have anticipated. There was nothing else in the world, no light, no cold, no breeze, no–

sound

A splashing sound in the distance made Malroth’s mind stutter for only a single moment. His chanting, however, continued on. One long note of magic, blanketing them both with levels of pleasure past worldly levels. Malroth’s younger body was also paying for itself too.

Faster and faster he thrusted, the world around him blacking out even more as his full shaft slid in and out of the tiger beneath him. The goat might’ve heard a voice, but he was too deep in to truly take note of it. Mere moments were left until the dark master reached his peak.

Then… release. Malroth’s hot seed poured from his tip in rapid streaks, painting the inside of Adhrit with a warmth and fullness found nowhere else. A feeling he wouldn’t trade for anything, a sign he was cared for by and bound to his master. It made him feel new again every time, and there had been many times.

It only occurred to the large feline after the world began returning to his senses that he’d spilt his own onto himself in the rush of intimacy. Malroth was already at work cleaning it off, still thrusting inside Adhrit causing him to moan ever more. Between such sounds, Malroth heard the feline say “My lord, -ahh- I believe your -ohh- surprise has arrived.” Malroth ceased his cleaning and turned his head around to see a shocked donkey standing in the doorway.

• • •

Even through his delirium, Puro recognized Mentiroso immediately, though it appeared he’d now grown two large curled horns. But more importantly the goat was engaging in an act he thought he’d never see a man of the church to: he was balls deep, in another man no less. The markhor’s soft anus winking with each thrust.. it was almost hypnotic. Puro mind was being torn and further disoriented at the sight, yet he could not look away.

Between the scene he had stumbled upon, the days of hard travel weighing on him, and the pain in his leg, “A-Acolyte Mentiroso, what are you doing here!? And what are you doing HERE!! Are you not the man of the church who set me on this task?” were the only words the equine managed to say. A pair of sneers so sinister spread across Malroth and Adhrit’s faces, the world around the three seemed to darken once more.

“It seems our newcomer needs a bit of catching up.” The tiger said. “I agree, let us start with this:” Malroth said, as he slipped out of his partner, and turned towards Puro. “I was… being perfectly honest unsure what your fate entailed upon your arrival to my town.” Panic began to set in Puro’s mind as the goat approached “y-your town, what–“. “But thankfully you’ve made that choice quite easy for me.”

The goat put his hands on Puro’s shoulders, quickly sliding them to the donkey’s neck as his eyes glowed bright red. “Hope you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon, little one.” Those were the last things Puro heard as a falling sensation took over, the world rapidly falling into darkness around him, and an icy cold sensation crystalizing just underneath his skin.

• • •

The world only returned with a deep pain from nearly all directions. One by one Puro’s body counted the ways his body hurt. His wrists and ankles were bound by rope to some hard pole. And they felt as if they were on fire, his brain banged and crackled like the slamming and sparking of an anvil, his skin felt as if it was barely hanging onto his body, and his…

There was a wet, splitting sensation in his lower body. His eyes hadn’t yet regained the fortitude to see what was happening, but what little he could remember before blacking out allowed him to connect enough dots.

Further still, his own manhood felt tight, cold, and wet as well. He strained through his blurry eyes to see it was locked in a silver cage, filling the puny space to the brim, his most sensitive organ pulsing against the fridge metal. The chains keeping it tight against his shaft before wrapped around his waist and dangling to one side of his scrotum.

Now, he could feel everything, the stormclouds in his brain, the ropes singing his arms and legs, the icy trap around his genitals, and the massive shaft in his tight, slick hole. Every push inward further shot a jolt of hot pain up his spine. His rear entrance stretched like never before, trying desperately to cling to any surface, holding onto it like a lifeline. Only for it to fall away before thrusting back up all over again. Did he.. want this? Is this what he needed all along? Was this why he set out to Fachada?

He tried to distract himself, thinking of his small farm at the edge of Ligero. Would he ever feel the warm soil once more? The warms smiles of those around him. Could he ever face them again? The gatherings in the church on warm summer days. Would that music evermore grace his ears? The impish grin of the acolyte from across the hall, wait-

“Finally awake are we?” A dark voice boomed. Not from outside, but directly in the donkey’s head. Puro could only let out short labored gasps. His mind struggling to hold onto any coherent thought. His brain swirling like a whirlpool down to the bottom of his subconsciousness.

Malroth’s legs worked like a mortar in a pestle as he laid back on the cool stone surface of the table within the tower. His body dripping with sweat, his chest beating, but he enjoyed the spectacle of his newest victim bobbing up and down on his shaft too much to care.

The donkey’s large balls bouncing, his shaft dribbling like the thawing falls of spring, pulsing against the cage the goat had locked it in, the thin chain dangling and slapping against his balls and thigh. The tightness of his virgin anus stretching around the goat’s large shaft, how it seemed to plead for his every inch again and again. The sniffles and tears forming in Puro’s only added to the cult leader’s enjoyment.

“Scream, cry, moan, and whimper as long and as loud as you want, little one. The only people who can hear you for miles and miles are the ones who are waiting for their own turn with you.” The dark lord crooned, his words dripping like honey. Malroth leaned up and planted a tender kiss on Puro’s snake bite before letting out a deep echoing cackle.

Puro looked through tear-streaked eyes down at the evil goat beneath him, eyes glowing redder and brighter than any ember. He then looked to the circle of figures in crimson robes surrounding them. There was no way out, seemingly no end to this pain both inside and out, and almost no light around him, in the cold stone tower he hung in, being filled like a concubine.

Puro was completely and utterly trapped.