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Winter had returned to the Lands of the Old Faith, the gold grasp of the firstborn of the frost stayed by the heat of a Rotburn Furnace. It was the fault of the Lamb for delving into Ewefall and prodding at mysteries best left forgotten, though I could not rebuke her for the act of seeking out the promised strength of her birthright. Had such power been dangled in front of me, I doubtless would have grasped at it as well and cared much less about the little bit of snow that we now endured in penance. It frustrated me to see her so apologetic for the minor hardship that her actions had brought to the cult, though I delighted in the opportunity that it presented.

The devil makes work for idle hands.

My Crown and I agreed on this, and with the blanket of white layered over the encampment restricting the labours of the cultists, I endeavoured to transform their indolence into Sin. My adherents were now numerous enough for the streak of carnality which I had introduced to the encampment to self-propagate, and thus my temptations no longer needed to be any more overt than the gentlest of nudges. We had resources enough stockpiled to last the cold, so why not capitalise on this rare chance to take a break by indulging oneself?

Naturally, I led by example. Presently I reclined against my favourite tree, unclothed for the chill could not touch me, nascent God as I was, gifted with a thick hide and enduring body. Durable, though not so resistant to the cold, was Narinder, to whom I had lent my heliotrope fleece. He was placed upon his hands and knees before me, my divine garment eclipsing his body entirely and concealing the service of his amateur maw from the view of any cultist that might chance to look upon us.

Submission suited him, though he still had pride enough to hide his surrender to me under the guise of coercion. It was a lie that would not hold should any cultist see the melted expression he wore while nuzzling against my cock, sometimes breaking away from the plying of his tongue to my shaft and the gentle suckling of the head of it to just bury his face into my great furred orbs to inhale the heated musk of a real male.

I was tempted to make comment on his feeble attempts at oral pleasure, his fumbling about between my legs very much in the bottom third of the cultists that I had enjoyed, but the lascivious face that he was making was probably the most alluring of all of them. So, I decided to allow him to continue without interruption while I looked out over the encampment and pondered the future.

To the cultists, their work was a religious act, as much a prayer to the Lamb as prostration before the Shrine or attendance of a Sermon, and thus they toiled away even under the limitations of winter. Before I had arrived, such wholesome pursuits were the sole activity of the camp, but now things were very different.

The Lamb inspired such loyalty that the Prison building was entirely unnecessary, yet still a pillory had been constructed in the space past the Temple by the petitioning of Rinor. The skunk girl occupied it now of her own accord, though I could only just see a flash of her tail since both sides of her body were currently in use, Aym and Baal spitroasting the free-use exhibitionist slut between them. Those two were surely her favourites, and she’d birthgasmed out a kitten for each of them already.

The two feline brothers had surrendered to me quite easily, so devoted to their former Master that they were quick to bow their heads when confronted with the reality of his submission – as much as Narinder denied it. Both were far more masculine than the one they once served, and while they each lifted their tails for me with wanton desire and moaned most whorishly as I had them paint their bellies with chained bitchgasms, they remained potent enough in their manhood to still pursue their own pleasures as well.

Frankly, they were far better minions than Narinder ever deserved, and I was putting them to much better use as my own personal adherents. I knew their secret desire, and I dangled it in front of them with the promise of making it their ultimate reward. One day, it would not be Rinor fucked to ruin between them, but their mother, Forneus, and the brother which provided me the most faithful service would have the honour of impregnating her first. After I had put an egg in her myself, of course.

On the note of incestuous pleasures, which appeared to me to be quite the proclivity in this cult, the romance between Yarlen and Jalala had turned far too wholesome for my tastes. Naturally, I had intervened, employing Aym and Baal to hold down the male panda while I wombfucked his sister in front of him until she surrendered entirely and screamed out her admission that his cock was inferior to my own and much as she loved him, only I could give her true pleasure. It would have been quite cruel for me to leave him cuckolded, so I next fucked Yarlen until I claimed from him a similar confession, that though his sister was his one true love, her cunt could not compare to the shuddering climaxes that he endured beneath me.

A separation between their romance and sexuality had made sluts of them both, and I had since found them side by side against the wall of the Temple, holding hands and gazing longingly into each other’s eyes while a queue of cultists fucked their way through both of them. I think for now, I could consider their fall into depravity complete, and each would be a continuous wellspring of Sin for me from here on out. Armed with Skull Necklaces and a promise of the Resurrection Ritual, I intended to have them continue their incestuous affair in my name ad infinitum.

Rinor as well was too good a resource for me to give up, and I had mounted a few personal crusades of my own to make sure that I had enough materials to keep the camp’s universal sexual relief skunk girl going strong forever. Narinder, Aym, Baal, Yarlen, Jalala, Rinor; I considered these six to be my inner circle (though Narinder would surely reject this if I were ever to say it aloud), and it was through their displays that Sin proliferated through the cult passively.

The Lamb would make a fine seventh.

This was a rare occasion in which I found myself at odds with the will of my Crown. As much as it remained my intent to take the Lamb as my woman, just as was the case with Narinder, to have her surrender in full would be to bring an end to our game. I enjoyed this life too much to give up on the present dynamic, in which the virtuous Lamb would crusade for ideals most wholesome, and deliver to me cultists which I tempted into Sin. She would be my last victory, and not one taken without due consideration.

If I truly desired it, I could probably ruin this whole cult in an afternoon, but to do so would be boorish, an act that was truly beneath me. I wanted every person here to fall of their own accord, this my final insult to the Lamb who valued the freedom of choice so highly. Yes, a part of me did still want to just rape them all into subservience and thought such inefficiency as this exasperating, but sweet corruption had proven much more entertaining for me of late, and I had recently decided that it would be the path that I would be pursuing henceforth.

This grand ambition occupied my thoughts as I looped a leg around Narinder while he was nursing the head of my cock, and by the force of it I pulled his struggling body down the length of my shaft until his throat bulged and his nose pressed into the tufted fur at the base of my maleness. Deprived of air, the talentless former God struggled pathetically, his claws finding no purchase against my thighs as he tried to push himself free, and the strength he set against the binding of my leg truly feeble.

I wasn’t close to orgasm, this no prelude to the dumping of my load into his belly. My actions were purely to make sport of him, to remind this lesser male his position beneath me. As much as he dressed up his submission as command, and made a great show of being unwilling, he made clear his enjoyment of being put in his proper place with one very obvious physiological reaction.

“There it is, Narinder. Again, you prove to me that you are not a man at all.”

His small feline cock quivered as he achieved an untouched climax, a few thin ropes of impotent white stark upon the dark fur of his thighs. He was well-trained enough now to find himself with an erection merely from my proximity, and the adornment between his legs required no stimulation to dispense its load when he provided such service as this. His expression turned to anger and shame, and I felt the attempted plying of his teeth, but with his jaw so locked open and his throat so filled, his fangs had no bite in them to give.

Such resistance was amusing. Yes, I couldn’t give this up. Not anytime soon, anyway. Eventually I would tire of it all and breed Narinder until he became my doting boywife, but that day was so far into the future that there was little point in even thinking about it. Even should my machinations regarding the Lamb come to fruition, I would forestall his ruin for as long as I could. For now, I would continue to indulge myself with the expectation that the cult and the depravities of my inner circle be perpetuated as they are now into eternity.

Slowly, I lifted my leg and allowed the demonic feline to withdraw from my cock, but before he could flee from me, I renewed the grapple to lock his head between my legs, my shaft pressed against his cheek. From here, I looked down at him from my position of superiority, “That look of defiance ill-suits you when you have been fawning over my cock with such an expression of bliss for this past hour.”

“It surprises me not that a cosmic mistake such as yourself has a defect in his vision.”

A scornful reply such as this was exactly what I had expected, though it came across as a little cute when Narinder shifted his shoulders to pull up my fleece in an effort to hide himself from view, “Then if my eyes are to be disbelieved, then perhaps I should call for Aym and Baal to come over and verify the evidence of your submission with which you have streaked your thighs?” I grinned, showing off my teeth, “Few are the males within this cult that achieve climax under such circumstances. For a faggot of such lowly skill in pleasure, you are undeniably one of the grander sluts in my keeping.”

“I am not in your keeping, you vile beast!” He again strained to free himself to no avail, succeeding only in nuzzling against my shaft with more vigour than was usually within the bounds of his sloppy oral. I had seen it too many times now. His focus was not on pleasure when he took in my scent and suckled at my cock, he was in those times simply lost in the gentle dream of his own submission, his lesser manhood sublimated by a grander masculinity. It was a fantasy sweet enough to have him cream his own thighs, and entirely proper for a faggot such as him.

“And yet I hear that after enjoying a few Grape Nectars at the Drinkhouse, you have admitted that you can no longer climax without me. No matter how desperately you masturbate in your private moments, you just cannot cum.” His face screwed up in embarrassment and a blush penetrated through even his dark fur, “Yes, I know about that night as well, in which you raised your tail for Aym and Baal both, and gifted though they are, neither could bring you to orgasm. Though, they filled your unworthy undertail with enough loads of feline cream to have your belly swell.”

“Lies! S-slander!”

Rare though it was for his voice to crack, I knew always that when it did it was when I had truly cut him to the quick, “I’m grateful, really. Better those brothers drain their balls into you and Rinor than grow too rapacious in their desires. Though they raise their tails for me with pleasure, I still acknowledge them as men. They are far removed from a faggot like you, whose place is amongst the females.” I allowed myself a soft sigh, “Yes, even Yarlen, who prefers my cock under his tail above all other pleasures, still can at least get hard for his sister. In this cult, you alone, Narinder, are a complete failure as a man. One day, I shall have you admit that and in doing so destroy you completely. But today is not that day.”

“You are delusional!” He seethed, “That Crown alone does not make you omniscient!”

“No, but it does let me read your thoughts.” I countered and found the widening of his eyes to that fact that he seemed to have forgotten very amusing indeed, “Such cheating would ruin our game, so I have not indulged. I do not need to, for I know already what is writ upon your soul, Narinder.” I leaned back against the bark, relaxing entirely. Now was not the time to press this matter lest I go too far and end our game early by mistake. So, I pivoted, “On the matter of games and indulgencies, I think that I shall soon undertake some caper to claim the Lamb.”

He swallowed, and his expression became quite complicated. I scoffed, “Are you perhaps afraid that I am going to take her away from you?”

“You… make such foolish assumptions of me. I am simply feigning loyalty to win her trust! One day, I shall cast down the usurper and reclaim my Crown and my Godhood!”

“Then I applaud your effort in the deception.” My voice took on a sarcastic edge, “It looked to my defective eyes that you were engaging in a grand romance. And since she has been so diligent in fulfilling your requests and listening to your whining about the past, I imagined for a moment that your affections had become mutual.”

The look of hope he now faced me with was truly delicious, “I should thank you for making this possible for me sooner than otherwise anticipated. Your stirring of her heart has cracked her façade, and now she is ripe for the seeds of carnality to be sown within her.” And hope turned to despair, “You were ever superfluous, but I am pleased that your actions here have saved me some effort. So pleased in fact, that I am considering rewarding you.”

“I seek no reward of yours, you bastard!”

He delivered that shout with more venom than I had ever heard from him, and I was actually a little impressed, “What a pity. I was thinking of offering you a part to play in my undertaking. The Lamb is vulnerable. She takes blame upon herself for the hardships of winter, and you have unsettled her heart. Now is the time for me to make my move, and were you involved, then I would have you in a place of surrender at her side. Alas, it would appear that you are uninterested.”

“W-wait…” He winced, and then looked to the side, “Although it would be shameful… To have you bring her to ruin before my eyes… would be fine vengeance!” The demonic feline made his justifications, “Yes, my dignity would be meagre sacrifice to bring low the usurper! In fact, were it part of a plan of our shared design, my dignity would never be surrendered at all! My submission entirely an act! I would be playing the f-faggot for you solely so that you could do my bidding!”

“You really are a piece of work, Narinder.”

The Lamb returned with the dawn from her crusade, and with her ascension of Ewefall the expansion of Yngya’s influence over the Lands of the Old Faith intensified the wrath of winter into a howling blizzard. I could not have asked for a better chance, for the accumulated worship of the cult was far short of coalescing into the Divine Inspiration necessary for her to upgrade the Rotburn Furnace to a level sufficient to do away with the driving force of winter’s icy breath.

Thus, the entire cult now huddled within the Temple, a great many heads bowed while the Lamb took her place at the pulpit, “My treasured believers…” She began her Sermon with her head bowed in respect. I found this motion foolish indeed. The cultists were there to serve her, not the other way around. Alas, if that was how she intended to conduct herself, then I would take full advantage of it.

“So treasured that you brought upon them Yngya’s fury?”

I made my heckle from her side, for both I and Narinder were permitted to flank her in these daily rituals, I as her peer and he as her predecessor. I was rewarded with an especially unamused glare for my jibe, “For which I have been forgiven, and I thank my flock for their mercy and understanding.”

“Yet you pay to us all no penance but the bowing of your head and a few words of apology.” This time it was Narinder who spoke, “We all suffer for you, we are all threatened by the snow and ice that you have called down from the mountaintop. As a God, you are immune to the bite of cold and know not our struggle.”

Narinder earned for himself a look that had a little more hurt in it than I had previously seen in the stoically incorruptible Lamb, yet he stood strong beneath her scrutiny, “The three of us shall discuss the matter later. Now is not the time for this.” She turned back to the cult, some of which now whispered amongst themselves, but a little ‘baa’ brought them back to attention, “Ahem…”

I crossed my arms and stepped back, Narinder also making his retreat. As much as she and I were equals in power, I respected that this was her domain and we had each spoken enough to make our points. Also, I always quite enjoyed watching her give a Sermon, as much as I found the contents of her message of peace, love, and unity, to be so sickeningly wholesome that I thought I might get a stomach ulcer from the sweetness of it all. Would it not be much more entertaining to preach on the indulgence of Sin?

The Lamb was a head shorter than Narinder, her core the same dark grey as him, though while stripping him of clothes rendered his sexual characteristics obvious (if a little small), she was gifted with thick enough wool to preserve her modesty even when the raising of her arms lifted the crimson fleece she most commonly chose to wear. We were polar opposites in form. While I was large and brutish, strong and domineering in presence, she was small and diminutive, quick and lithe in build. So great was our size difference that were I to ply against her the full force of my lust, I could probably take her in one hand as a living sextoy, and by the might of my cock wombfuck her to such ruin that her plundered cunt would never again be the same, forever warped into the shape of me.

It was a pleasant fantasy, and one that I would have to sublimate lest arousal make my want obvious. Thick fur about the crotch lent me the same sort of modesty that the Lamb’s wool afforded her, but my masculinity was grand enough for there to be firm limits on how much cover I was granted, and it was beneath my dignity to unveil myself here.

On went the Sermon, and with it the Bonfire Ritual which provided the cultists with some much-needed warmth. Yet still, the accumulation of Virtue was insufficient for the Lamb to expand the powers of the Rotburn Furnace and do away with the blizzard. Her final action was to declare a day of rest while she took measures to resolve the problem, and soon the cultists had all filed out to leave behind only the three of us.

“They didn’t look very satisfied. Losing your touch, perhaps?”

“That is enough from you, Goat. You are lucky that we do not come to blows for your transgressions thus far. While I crusade for the good of the Lands of the Old Faith, you fight only for your own interests and corrupt my flock with your temptations.” She rounded on the cat, “And you, Narinder, I expected better of you.”

“And I of you.” He countered, “You overthrew me with such lofty words of a brighter future, you swore against the sacrifices and cruelties that I dangled before you, and then in your idle curiosity you return the ruin of winter to us.” Narinder huffed, looking haughty as ever, “I suffer for your negligence! The fur of this mortal body is thin, and I am slight of build. The cold bites at me fiercely and I am miserable!”

“I…” She looked away, “I have already apologised for that.”

“A mere apology is insufficient, little Lamb.” I showed off my teeth, “Your flock may accept your words as penance, but Narinder does not. Faggot though he is, he was once a God, and a failure to honour that is a slight against our Crowns.”

This is true. My former Master deserves some allowances.

I weep for the indignity of it. Though it shames me to even acknowledge one so low as The One Who Waits as even a former God.

Both of them seemed to be in agreement on the matter, their musings known only to the Lamb and I. But still she took a valiant stand, “I do not know what a ‘faggot’ is, but I swear by my wool that I shall make this right. My crusade upon Ewefall continues. I’ll do whatever it takes to-”

“Whatever it takes, you say? I do doubt that very much. You’ve not the courage to give your favourite adherent what he’s owed.” I shrugged nonchalantly, “Your innocence does not surprise me, though. Narinder, tell her what you are.”

That got me a scowl, “I refuse.”

“A refusal to speak the words, but no denial that they are true.” I smirked, and then elucidated for the Lamb, “Narinder is not a man. He is a faggot. Male in all things save one, for in his sexual proclivities he has only the part of the female to play. Your little romance together is doomed, for he cannot even achieve an erection without my presence, and your virginal cunt can never compare to the pleasure of my cock under his tail.”

“Such vulgarity!”

“It is a vulgar world, Lamb. Frankly, your incorruptibility is an affront to the natural order of things. This fool desires you, and yet you hold him at arm’s length and have him suffer in the cold for the sake of your chastity, despite the obvious mutuality of your feelings. And yet you consider me to be the villain? You dare call me cruel and corrupting? How can you be so audacious as to deliver such Sermons on love when your heart is as ice?”

She winced, and as did the demonic feline, and so I pressed the attack, “I loathe that which is wholesome and will permit no sweet romance in my sight. But were you not so frigid, then you could have had Narinder before I ruined him, I owe you respect enough as my equal in might to have looked the other way this once. But that time is passed. You owe him penance, Lamb. And I shall have you give it to him now; you will answer his affections. Accept him and I will show you how to properly give affection to this faggot. And if you reject him… then I think I shall take him for myself.”

“You cannot be serious. You go too far, Goat!”

“T-this is not what we agreed!”

“Are you surprised that I would lie to you, Narinder? Yes, the conspiracy that we embarked upon together was always a fiction. I am going to lay you over that Temple Altar and fuck you. Not both of you. Just you. The only matter that was ever to be settled was whether or not the Lamb would hold your hand while I did it, or if she will fuck off on another crusade and leave us to the matter in peace.”

I cackled, “Submission side by side? What dross. Were I to claim the Lamb, then our game would come to an end, and I am far from done with my fun. This was always about you, Narinder. Just you. You shall end this day either her lover or my faggot. Perhaps both in time, but for now only one.”

“I am not a faggot!” He turned to the Lamb, “It is… it is true that my desires have been warped by this monster, but… he provides me with pleasure only at my demand! I am the lesser of no one! I am the One Who Waits!” Narinder turned to face me, “And I shall have you for myself, Lamb! I will not let the Goat take you! I-I have had enough! Have at thee! Die, monster!”

He lunged at me, his fist striking at the wall of my abs with pitiful force. If he’d managed to make his declaration without the stutter and had might enough to back his words, then this might have been the heroic turning point of Narinder’s life. But he remained a pathetic faggot, and that became all the more obvious when I reached down to pluck him from the ground by the grasp of only one hand. I held him aloft by the neck, his hands grasping at my forearm to give himself room enough to breathe, and his legs kicking fruitlessly.

“Goat! That is enough! You have made your point!” The Lamb stepped back, giving herself distance enough to make a proper strike as her Crown transfigured into a slender sword, “I’m warning you, put him down.”

I only sighed, “Give it a second…” And I reached forward with my free hand, balling the cultists robes Narinder wore into my fist and tearing them away from his body. His form was thin and feminine, not so different to that of the Lamb, his time as a God softening him into a shape unmoulded by mortal toil. The feline abandoned his attempts to give himself leverage to breathe to instead place both hands over his crotch, but not so quickly enough as to conceal the light pink of his small erection, “Now, my point is made.”

Narinder collapsed into a heap as I dropped him, but he was not so feeble as to curl up into a ball and surrender. With one hand to conceal his modesty, he curled the other into a fist and continued his most pathetic assault, which I pointedly ignored. The Lamb had relinquished her sword and now looked upon the scene playing out before her with a look equal parts thoughtful and disgusted, “It looks to me that you are the one that owes Narinder penance, Goat.”

“And I pay it daily by sheathing my cock beneath his tail.” I scoffed, “Beast of Sin though I am, I do have some sense of obligation. I do hope that you can accept this lowly creature as your lover, for in doing so the sport that I have of Narinder continues. But if you choose to break his heart, then I will force him to admit that he is a faggot and make him into my fawning boywife instead.”

“Never!” He cried out as he struck at me, “You are the one that serves me! How dare you have me suffer this indignity in front of her! I cannot believe that I was so foolish as to imagine us allies even for a moment!”

“Shush, Narinder. I do not wish for… the one that I love… to shame himself further.”

Glorious. I grinned in victory as the Lamb’s admission froze the demonic feline mid-swing. The eye of her Crown glowed, and I saw here that she had not the same restraint as I when it came to the reading of minds. It intrigued me that despite knowing what she had doubtless learned about Narinder’s true nature and proclivities she could still make such a declaration as that, but perhaps this was testament to her virtuous heart. My difficulty in understanding it all was probably evidence that my own was truly blackened. To me, love felt like more trouble than it was worth. What was that feeling for other than controlling people? The Lamb had found a different answer, and I didn’t begrudge her it. Perhaps in a few centuries I might even learn the trick to it.

Doubtful.

I took advantage of Narinder’s surprise to again seize him by the throat and cast his body upon the pulpit, the great altar at the head of the Temple behind which the Lamb would give her Sermons and command her Rituals. Laid upon his back, he was exposed entirely, and I maintained the grasp of my hand about his neck to keep him pinned as I took my own position between his legs.

“Observe, Lamb. Do you see that small sliver of pink?” She did not give me the courtesy of words, but I followed the line of her gaze and accepted the slow nod of her head as an answer, “That is not the cock of a man. That is the adornment of a faggot.” I delivered my lesson, “It is not for the impregnation of womenfolk, nor the breaking of the wills of lesser males, for there is no lesser male than a faggot. It exists solely to demonstrate his enjoyment of the submission that I force upon him. It is hard because he is a faggot that revels in surrender. And when it paints his belly, it will be proof of the feminine pleasures that he most delights in.”

So sayeth the Goat.

The same words from both Crowns in unison, a fine affirmation for my own private Sermon for the Lamb. Narinder had clamped his mouth closed, daring not to speak lest some ill-spoken words betray his heart, but she yet observed, the look in her eyes part distaste, part curiosity, “Is it truly necessary to have him suffer this way?” She looked a little embarrassed now, “Should not the making of love be more tender than this?”

“Tender lovemaking is precisely what Narinder most likes, actually.” I grinned, “But he needs an excuse to get himself there, so grand is his ego. In the end, he will wrap himself behind me, moan sweetly into my neck and more than once now I have received quite the kiss. First however, his pride must be broken. He is the sort of faggot that you must drown in pleasure before he dares to show his true self, and for that, a little force is necessary.”

“Do not… speak as if you know a thing… you foul monster!”

“It sounds to my ear that he despises you, Goat.”

“And yet look at how his legs fall into a natural parting. Observe the bead of clear fluid crowning that little toy that he thinks is a cock. Does he cry out for you to draw your sword and save him from me? No. Because this is his desire.” I looked to her, “Tell me, Lamb. Do you find the sight of it arousing? Your chosen consort writhes in pleasure, dominated by your counterpart in me. There must be some reaction.”

“I… am not familiar with arousal. I reject the Sin of lust, as I reject all Sins.”

“We are far from the day that I claim you and teach you the pleasure of it.” I spoke with resolve, “But that day shall come. Until then, let Narinder serve as your proxy.”

“You are as ignorant as Narinder suggests to be expectant of such a thing from me.”

“And yet were you entirely averse to it, you would not be watching this play out with such curiosity.”

“That is for his sake.”

“And the rubbing together of your thighs is surely for his sake as well.” That earned a little jolt from the Lamb who had not at all noticed what she was doing. Here was yet another issue that I had no intention of pressing any further. To conquer the Lamb would be my ultimate victory, and I was in no rush to get there, tempting though her woolly little pussy was.

My fleece shifted as I moved forward, and I layered my cock beside Narinder’s small and barbed prick. The difference in mass was extreme, the dark red of my masculinity extending up to the squirming feline’s midriff, “Unlike a faggot’s adornment, this is what a real cock looks like, Lamb.” I leaned back slightly to ensure the view, enough of a size difference between Narinder and I for me to not need to release his neck in the display, “This is my bitch breaker. With this, I have feminised some of your males and impregnated some of your females. No more than half, lest I disrupt the balance of your flock. Though you may rest assured that only this faggot is so broken that he cannot even achieve sexual functionality without me.”

“That is… reassuring.” The tone of confidence was fading from her voice, yet all three of us remained somewhat aloof even now, as was proper for two Gods and a former bearer of a Crown, “I do not interfere with your temptations because I want my flock to have free will. It would trouble me if you took too much advantage of that. Were you to do so…”

“Then we would have to fight with our swords rather than like this.” I affirmed, “Do I not make clear that I enjoy our game too much to bring it to a close any time soon? I expect that it will be a few centuries before you layer yourself over Narinder and beg me to put an egg in you.”

“And as I made clear, you should not hold out such foolish hope.”

“S-stop ignoring me!” Narinder whined, interrupting our banter. When we both looked upon him, he scowled in an attempt of regaining his composure, “Is this all you have to offer, monster? I demand that you give me the pleasure that I deserve!”

“Yes, if you are the proxy of the Lamb, then you must be shown an effort worthy of her. But I do not think that you would withstand it were I to breed you as if you were a fellow God. All those tentacles would be too much of a strain. Perhaps when you are a little better trained, and can offer me more than the most mediocre of oral pleasures, and an undertail that scarcely makes it into the top third of cultists, I might consider allowing you some dignity.” I squeezed at his throat, “Until then, you may be silent while your betters talk. You don’t need to be conscious for me to fuck you to bitchgasm, Narinder. We have learned this already when your poor stamina has had you faint beneath me before I am finished. Test my patience, and while you are unconscious, I promise that I shall do things to you that will leave your beloved Lamb unable to even look you in the eye afterwards.”

Narinder grit his teeth and ground them together impotently, but I was surprised by a query from my side, “Like what?” I turned to the Lamb, but sadly found that her curiosity was genuine, and not the result of any fantasising.

“Oh, I have a few things in mind.” I responded casually, “I suppose I might begin by giving him the sort of marking by which any cultist with a sufficiently advanced sense of smell would know precisely to whom this faggot belonged with only a whiff.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t, innocent Lamb as you are. Otherwise, I could have him take Rinor’s usual place in the pillory. Perhaps I might intoxicate him with mushrooms and simply unleash this faggot onto the cult without his usual filter and with no clothes for dignity. Or maybe I should just spend a point of Sin and have him birth an egg for me without ever even knowing it. I would alert him one day in the far future, when he was impaled upon the cock of his own offspring on the day that they come of age.”

“Such depravity!”

“Really? These are actually some of my tamer options. Narinder would even enjoy some of them; when I last pitched him the fantasy of making a mother of him, he achieved his bitchgasm in record time.” I sighed while reflecting, “You see, Lamb, his pride is nothing but a façade. This faggot wants to be dominated. He loves you, yes. But he belongs to me. That’s why I’m necessary for your little romance.”

“I’m starting to see that, yes.” She conceded, “But I do wish that you would not belittle our feelings by calling it a ‘little romance’. I had to do a lot of soul-searching to be able to admit my affections for Narinder, even if you did force the issue; and I know that it was not easy for him, either.”

“A proud faggot and a frigid whore. A fine pair you make.”

“And what does that make you?”

“I will accept ‘Master’ as a title.”

“Fat chance!”

Well yes, I might be pushing my luck a little with that one. But perhaps one day? I glanced down to find Narinder scowling, and decided that the time for such idle conversation as this was about through, “Knees up, faggot. Show the Lamb how you present yourself for me.”

I leaned back again to allow her a view, “Observe the soft pink of his male cunt. Fuck this little tailstar long and hard enough, and eventually it becomes a fine coinslot shape all the better for taking cock. And it will need to adapt, considering my size. Narinder has gotten quite good at cleaning and oiling himself up on days that he knows that I’m going to fuck him, and I’m sure that he’s having a little covert practice as well. Aym and Baal by my guess. Or perhaps he raises his tail to whoever will have him?”

That earned me a foul look, so I grinned, “No, it seems like that one time with his former servants was something of an exception. A selfish creature like Narinder wouldn’t suffer the indignity of raising his tail if it didn’t come with a nice bitchgasm for him, and he learned with those two little kittens that I’m the only one that can give him that.”

Were the Lamb less averse to carnality, I might have demanded at this point that she guide me in or perhaps have suggested that she touch Narinder. But even that small advancement still felt far into the distance for us. So, I made a lesser demand, “Did I not say that it was my intent for you to hold his hand while I did this?”

“Ah, yes…” She looked to her lover and hesitated, the lesser male upon his back with my hand at his throat, his knees lifted up to better present to me his hindquarters and his tail swaying between my legs. She reached out her hand, and gently took his, and as Narinder’s fingers interlocked with hers, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the contented expression that each of them made.

“Hand holding. A depravity which even I find most distasteful.” I scoffed, “How sickeningly wholesome. Though one supposes that the impalement of my cock undercuts your feeble romance.” And with that, I advanced forth, the head of my maleness catching at the pucker of his undertail for a slow press, “Behold, Lamb. This faggot never lasts until the hilt before achieving his first bitchgasm. You won’t want to miss it. Pay special attention to the face that he makes at the moment of his submissive climax.”

“Damn… you…”

Narinder made his complaint, but I knew his body too well by now. Since the day that I had told him that I was through with his challenges and all of the preamble to him raising his tail for me, he had been coming to me at least once daily to demand his pleasures of me. He was truly addicted to the male taboo of surrender, wedded to my cock, and I imagined by now he spent more time walking around with a load of my Godly seed inside of him than not.

“He’s not the best slut. A more competent whore would better shift their hips to adjust to my penetration or at least adjust the fall of their legs without needing me to take the weight. Narinder is a lazy faggot.” I released his neck, now placing each of my hands above each knee, grasping firmly at his thighs and ensuring that he stayed in the correct position, “He believes that riding in my lap of his own accord or the taking of any initiative at all is beneath his dignity.”

“It… is!”

My cock thrust forth, inch by inch delving into the oil-slicked tailstar of my most defiant plaything, “A pity that initiative in taking me beneath his tail only comes when his stamina is spent. His skill in oral is pathetic. His cock is useless. And his faggot male pussy only just above average. Yet he makes the most alluring expressions and melts into a kiss in the most lascivious way. I am almost disappointed that you chose to take him for a lover, for with a little training he would make a wonderful boywife.”

“How uncharacteristically affectionate of you, Goat.”

“I am a hedonist, Lamb. I merely lament that I must wait until the day that I have you fall at his side and claim you both rather than enjoy my prize in the here and now. When that time comes, I shall have you embrace and each force out an egg for me in tandem. It irks me that I cannot have both my game and your submission at the same time and must settle for one before the other.” I glanced down, “Observe now. See the bump of my cock advancing along his abdomen and… look… his small orbs quiver, his cock jolts, and…”

Narinder whined pathetically, the sound in his throat a feminised wail, and his eyes closed as he took on an expression of sheer bliss, his small adornment divesting itself of three thin lines of white submission over his belly, “Good boy. That’s how a faggot creams himself. A man pours his essence into throat, pussy, or ass. Or perhaps covers his whore in his seed to leave them marked as his. But a faggot empties out his defective white over his own belly, or he spends it on the floor between his feet.”

This is truth.

I looked to the lamb with a sneer, “This failure will never impregnate you, Lamb. Even if you were to hold his cock in your pussy while I fuck the cum from him, his failure seed would never take. Gods greater than us would never allow it. Because it is not what Narinder is for. He’s not a man. He’s a faggot. His place is with his tail raised, and what lies beneath is mine to plunder. A pity that you are so frigid, for any other woman would understand.” The cat panted below me, with his free hand trying to cover his face for the Lamb would not release the palm that she had claimed, “Tell me, what do you think of the sight?”

She looked to him, then to me, and then away, “If you are insistent upon an answer… I suppose I shall admit that he looks cute. I love Narinder enough to take him as my mate, and as immortal beings that holds weight for each of us. So, it makes me happy to see him make such an expression. If carnal pleasures bring joy to him, then who am I to deny him?”

“Even when that joy comes about by my Sin of lust?”

“I am not so unyielding as to not know when an exception should be made. For Narinder, I make such an exception. And… though I cannot explain it, I like this sight. I am sharing something intimate with my love.”

My cock slipped deeper, “What you are sharing is the sight of this faggot bitchgasming while I reshape his insides. Yes, it is cute. Cute is not a word that you can ever ascribe to a man, but it suits women and faggots both.” My advance continued, a shaft as broad as Narinder’s forearm plundering his depths, inch by inch driving forth, and I was rewarded with another small spurt of white as I hilted, the full penetration drawing more from the aftermath of his climax.

“Is it… painful?”

“Not at all. His insides are like an oil-soaked glove about my cock, and when he climaxes, the walls of his undertail undulate about my length. I like it best after I have dumped my first load into his core, for he becomes overly sloppy and the lewd sound of our rut is most humiliating. The offering of a male feels inferior to female cunt, but it comes with an addicting sense of corruption, and I would not be able to choose my preference between the two.” I blinked, “Oh, you mean for him. Why don’t you answer, faggot?”

“I refuse.” He snarled, though the grind of my hips made him give a small whimper, and the concerned look that the Lamb was giving him soon had Narinder relent, “Fine… It used to hurt at first, but now even right from the start it feels… full and fluttery.”

I wanted to scoff. ‘Full and fluttery’? To hear someone so competent in their speech as Narinder make so feeble a description was hilarious, and I intended to later torment him with this. Though perhaps caught in the moment, he continued, “There’s a spot where… a little shock goes through my whole body, to the end of my every extremity and back again.”

“That’s your bitch button, Narinder. And you’re my faggot because I’m the only one that can press it the way that you like. Carry on.”

He shot me a scornful look, but proceeded at the nod of the Lamb, “There’s something else, too. A weight over me. A presence. It makes me feel…” His nose twitched and he looked away, “No. I refuse to speak further. Do as you will, you monster.”

I grinned, “Safe, perhaps? Relieved? Unburdened? That’s why you always surrender into my arms by the end, Narinder. That’s why you wrap your limbs around me and kiss at my neck while you paint your belly. Because you’re not just a faggot. You’re my faggot.”

“Do not be cruel, Goat.” The Lamb chided me, a dangerous look in her eyes. By the insight of her Crown she knew full well the same truths that I had learned. To force Narinder to admit that submission would ruin his pride, and she did not want her lover broken. I wondered if that would change when she was ready to break right along with him. No, I was sure of it. If the Lamb rejected this eventuality, then she would have called a stop to this already. One day, she would fall. Perhaps she even wanted to, and on that day, I would take them both into my keeping and need to find a new game to have my sport.

Buoyed by the revelation, I withdrew my cock, slowly dragging Narinder from my length to make a show of it for our audience, and then thrust by thrust, I built up a gentle pace, “Listen to how he sings, Lamb.” Narinder had clamped his mouth shut, yet still his every exhalation had his nostrils flare with the music of feminine whines, “A fine orchestra for the Temple. A little longer and he will start to wail. And when his resistance fails, this faggot moans like a true slut.”

“Lies…!”

His denial was less than convincing. Unlike Narinder who could summon up only the most feeble cumshot, I was as voluminous as ever and in the prelude to my own distant climax, I poured into my squirming whore a steady stream of precum. I spoke to the Lamb, “There is little more to this part than time and effort. Sawing my cock in and out of his unworthy tailstar while he writhes in pleasure. Look. See how his pawtoes clench and unclench in time to my thrusts? Look. See how expectant he is in the timing of his breathing to my motions? Look. See how his tail betrays his delight?”

“I am familiar with the mechanics of mating.” The Lamb looked unamused.

“Mating, yes. But this is pleasure, Lamb. That is something that one so chaste and pure as you knows not.” I exerted more weight over Narinder, gradually increasing the speed of my thrusts. His eyes were closed, his face screwed up in fevered ecstasy, and my rut mighty enough to rock his body, small furred orbs and tiny adornment of a cock swaying back and forth beneath me. He was my toy, and I made obvious here and now to both of them the lack of agency that Narinder had in our dynamic. Surrender was his place.

My fingertips sank into his flesh, soft thighs supple in my grasp, and I dragged him deeper beneath me just in time for his pawtoes to splay and with a high-pitched caterwaul, Narinder again painted his belly in a feeble orgasm. It never failed to amuse me when he climaxed, the little faggot always looking so ashamed of his pleasure, that bit of ego in him that could never be dislodged rejecting the very concept of his submissive bitchgasm.

My opening points all well proven now, I decided that I no longer cared for the artistry of Narinder’s claiming, and fucked him through his messy climax at my own pace, leaning over the Temple Alter and now pulling the faggot so far under me that our missionary evolved into a mating press. His cock pointed now towards his neck and chest, steadily drooling a thin line of white submission to connect the pink flesh to dark fur. He was flexible indeed. So much so that I imagined that with a little practice, I could probably force upon him the indignity of autofellatio.

I placed a footpaw upon the pulpit, and fucked him from above in earnest, chasing my pleasure thrust my thrust. Narinder was too lost in his surrender to pay me my proper due in attention, so while I took the demonic feline, I made a point of observing the Lamb and found it pleasing that the line of her gaze was glued to the point at which I penetrated her lover. It took a great amount of willpower to not push my luck and demand her inclusion. Later. That must come later.

A snarl grew in my throat, my own mighty bleat echoing about the great hall of the Temple as I rushed my way to climax. I sank my cock deep into the faggot below me and by force of my shaft I sealed his undertail and pumped my seed into Narinder’s core. There was no need for me to give the Lamb instruction to watch his belly swell with the volume of white essence I flooded him with, and her eyes widened in a most entertaining way when my fucktoy drooled out a feeble orgasm over the swell of his stomach for it to drip over his neck and make a mess of his cheek.

“That is a satisfying start.” My first orgasm spent, I allowed Narinder a few moments to bask in the aftermath of it before withdrawing my cock, continuing to pin down his thighs and hold him in a mating press despite my absence. Pointed skywards was his gaped open undertail, soft pink and inviting, entirely filled with a lake of creamy white. The demonic feline covered his face in shame, finally snatching back his hand entirely from the Lamb to retreat in full.

His lover looked upon the messy creampie curiously, “Will that make him pregnant?”

“I thought you were familiar with the mechanics of mating?” I jibed, “No. You can only knock up a male if you expend Sin at the Mating Tent to break the rules of nature. Not even a faggot like Narinder can bear an egg otherwise.”

I released a thigh to press on the faggot’s stomach hard enough for my essence to flow freely from his undertail and form rivulets of white over his dark fur, streams parting about his tail as they ran along his back, and sublimating the evidence of his own bitchgasms on the front. To me, upon this Temple Altar, it felt like a carnal baptism, and I delighted in the depravity of it.

More. My cock throbbed. The second fuck onwards was always my favourite for one reason, and I reached down to again grasp my lowly faggot by the throat and lift him from the pulpit stone so that I might take a seat in his place, dropping him in my lap for his arms and legs to obediently wrap around me. My hands found his thighs, and now when I returned him to my shaft there was a humiliatingly lewd sound as my cock sank into cumbasted insides.

Narinder hid his face in my chest, the opportunity to do so the sole reason that he had been so amenable to this position, but there would be no hiding from the noises that I would now have of him, “Listen well, Lamb.” The mess of cum that slicked his thin fur and now matted mine combined with the lewd shlicking of our rut to make a wet slapping noise with every impalement, and I delighted in the ruin of it all.

To rock his body back and forth, up and down, was no great feat for one of my strength and mass, and I handled him like a pleasure object. It was only a few minutes before his chained climaxes ran dry, “There it is. His eyes are glazed. I doubt he even understands what I am saying anymore. See how tightly he holds me? I feel his fingers in my back as he balls up my fur in his hands. I feel his heels press into me as he pulls my cock deeper. This completes him. This is what makes him my faggot.”

Narinder was purring like a kitten, nuzzling pathetically into my neck as little feminine moans broke the gentle rumble of his throat. I looked again to the Lamb, “You may consider this Sermon complete. There is naught more for me to do but use his body to my satisfaction, and if you intend to remain for that long then I suggest you find a chair.”

Her arms were crossed, and she looked to us both with a complicated expression upon her face. There was something in her eyes, something incomprehensible to me. No, I knew this sort of resolve. She had received a revelation. For a moment, even with Narinder impaled upon my cock while his insides undulated upon me in evidence of yet another bitchgasm, I wondered if I should manifest my sword.

“I’m… jealous? Is that what this feeling is? Or am I simply curious? This has all been somewhat overwhelming…”

“Oh, is that all?” I felt a little relieved, and continued to casually breed my faggot, “Blame the Gods for making you a female, weak and small. Only a man can master Narinder, and not just any man either.”

“No, not of you. Why would I be? Narinder’s heart is mine already, and you have taken from him nothing more important than that. It is he that I am jealous of for what he has of you. Odious though you may be at times, you are my dark twin and the distance between us has always troubled me. Yet you and Narinder appear to my eye to be rather close. Affectionate even, though you each deny it.” She appeared ponderous, and then broke into a saintly smile, “Yes. I now understand this one language that you speak. I believe that I have made my choice regarding our dynamic going into the future. As the instigator of this debacle, I deny you the right to refuse. As I have taken responsibility for Narinder’s suffering, you shall pay your dues for this unsettling feeling in my breast. Now, Goat…”

Our eyes met… and her fleece fell to the floor.

Game over.

_ _

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Ahoy. This one took another two afternoons to clear, and I had a decent bit of fun with it as well, despite a bit of a false start. The current level of progress that the Lamb has made is about equal to my own in the game, and I’ve enjoyed Woolhaven thus far. Damn that wolf bastard for stealing all of my stockpiled resources! I’m almost tempted to write a part three to have him submit to the Goat just to get revenge for the indignity of it!

I’d intended to involve the Lamb a lot more in this and make it more of an m/f focused piece, but after presenting her as a paragon of virtue, that didn’t quite feel right and I decided to stick with Narinder and m/m. In the end, the Goat finds his eternal game a little bit ruined when the Lamb gets more curious about things than he’d bargained for – though one good fuck won’t exactly mindbreak her, so I imagine that they’ll keep up their Sin and Virtue contest for the foreseeable future even if they do take a turn towards the carnal. Maybe he can teach her lust? Maybe she can teach him love?

Anyways, thank you very much for the response to the last part. As always, I appreciate every fave, follow, watch, comment, feed post, direct message, collection add, and every last read as well. The reach of these submissions feels quite limited with SF only partway functional at present, so I’ll probably hold off on any more stories until at least the search functions come back online.

There are two stories in my pile that I want to work on in the interim (my book work aside), and I’m unsure which to do next and would appreciate some input. The first is an m/m piece called ‘the worst princess’ in which I wanted to explore the cliché ‘the princess you rescued is actually a boy’ sort of story. The brave Knight returns to the Kingdom after saving the princess (who has been an asshole for the whole trip) only to find that the country has fallen while they’ve been away. Vengeance ensues, and some hilarity. The other is an m/f piece with a bit more scope that focuses on the British countryside and animal spirits, in which a modern-day man finds himself the last of his bloodline by unfortunate circumstance, and is accosted by an ancestral spirit of his family. If the bloodline dies out, then the spirit does too, so she takes the matter of producing an heir into her own hands… It’s totally a matter of survival, and she’s absolutely not a human fetishist!

I’d be interested to hear your preferences between the two, so please pop me a comment and I’ll keep it in mind when making my choice. While I’m working on book stuff, I’m gonna stick to little one shots and mini-series like these, so hope to work through my ideas folder a bit. Thanks in advance – and as usual…

Have a most excellent day.