The Hyrole Whore
This is a commission done by Shae Sullivan. He's an excellent author, so if any of you like this story, please contact him for a commission! I hope you all love this story as much as I do!
The prisoner was led up the old, beaten up stairs by two hyena guards dressed in steel-plated armor, bearing the emblem of the kingdom of Hyrole. He was on charge for debauchery and suspicion of eliciting prostitution in a holy sanctuary and now stood for his punishment as met out by the Chancellor of the kingdom. The stocky old horse wore the well tailored robes of the kingdom and stood proudly as he unveiled a thick scroll listing, in detail, all of the crimes the prisoner had committed. Not surprisingly, it was a long list of things dealing with debased and immoral acts that had a few of the older peasant women in the crowd fainting.
The black hound on trail smiled to the large grouping of males and female coming to gawk at him as if he were some kind of unholy heathen when in fact it was one of them in that very crowd who had ratted him out to the authorities.
'A fine way to end his days but no less fun with such a spectacle,' the dog thought to himself with more than a little dry mirth coloring his thoughts. If his paws weren't cuffed behind him, the thick bonds of rope the hound would bow before his audience. At twenty summers old, he was a good, strong lad who had made his way throughout life selling and bartering his tail for food and clothing and wasn't ashamed to stand proudly by his choices. Life wasn't kind to him from birth and he had learned that the best assets a fur could have were their wits and their ability to charm another.
Ever since he knew what the 'business' was, the hound had been shaking his tail to anyone who would give him that certain 'look' in their eyes. That gaze that asked for pleasures of flesh and body that would last all the way until dawn pushed the night aside. The first time, he had been so young. It had been a raunchy old bull who was drunk out of his gourd and was desperately in need of some...carnal attention. And the hound had delivered: losing both his virginity and his gag reflex on the same night.
He had been paid with a silver coin for his trouble and from that moment on he had learned just what his body was really worth. From then on the hound had done everything he could to heighten the lengths of his sexual appeal. Keeping his meals down to just above the minimal as not to gain too much body fat, he worked as a farm hand to toughen his stamina, and even did special exercises to bring his form into a shapely curve that would make an unwitting male confuse him for a female in the right light. Not that anyone who had ever bought his attentions ever complained about what hole they stuck their malenesses in. No, most of them just wanted pleasurable company more than lovers and that was fine with him.
Sadly, his lifestyle brought about some...uncomfortable consequences. Certain kingdoms were very closed minded about his practices, forcing the black canine to move often and repeatedly to keep his head from being cleaved from his shoulders. Having been on the roads so often had made the hound almost empathic towards any one place. He was seen as something dirty by those who bought his services in the day, yet at night, those same sneering muzzles turned...curious. Very curious indeed.
Looking into the crowd, the canine winked to a few males who had petitioned him for his tail and watched as they squirmed nervously. Oh he wasn't shrewd enough to call them out, he had more class than that. But if his last moments in life were going to be one thing, he wanted to take the visions of his clientele with him into Dante's Inferno. Maybe the demon in the netherworlds would show him a much better time than the furs in this life. According to a few sorcerers those fiends down there had some serious packaging between their thighs: at least he hoped the rumors were true.
"Do you have any words before your sentence is to be met out?" The Chancellor asked as he stood in front of the black canine who was spacing out in his own little fantasy world.
"Uhm, nope not really. After all I got all the lip work done that I needed to." The hound said before winking at the older horse who blanched and gawked like a fish.
"Y-You...HEATHEN!!!" The graying stallion whinnied in frustration while glaring at the two guards who snickered and coughed at the same time.
"As befitting of your punishment, you will be castrated come morning and then given fifty lashes."
The hound shrugged and yawned in boredom. He honestly thought he was going to be given the guillotine, but this was just as bad. No more fun with his naughty bits for the rest of his life. Oh well, not like he did much topping anyway. It would just mean once his back healed he would have to buy dresses instead of leggings. Not really a problem. He knew a very sexy salamander tailor who customized on request.
"LOCK HIM IN!!!" The chancellor shouted.
The hound was jerked to the side and then forced into a wood stock where only his arms and head were locked into the wood after one of the hyenas freed his arms from the ropes. Completely humiliating. Any sane fur would be struggling and pleading for forgiveness...
"This is kinda nice. Hmmm, easy access too." The black hound said before wiggling his rump and tail to the crowd.
"Is there no shame left in you?" The horse bellowed in disbelief.
"Nope. Pretty sure I lost that about the same time I had my first gangbang. Though it could have been before. Not sure." The dark furred dog said as he truly thought about the question.
The chancellor made grunting sounds before chuffing and calling the guards to him and walking off down the stairs through the crowd and back to the castle. The rest of the people looked at the near silent hound for a few more minutes with a mix of looks on their muzzles before dispersing back to their homes to do their business, returning life to normal save for one lone doggy.
The day was at the midway of being through and the dog found himself sighing in frustration. It was so uncomfortable to be locked up and unable to move. The wood chaffed his fur, making it itch. He had to bend his legs to rest them less they dangle under him. And now his nose tingled and he couldn't scratch it. Honestly, did the authorities realize this was capital punishment not to be able to scratch one's nose? The dog whined in frustration before grunting when someone came up to see him and snickered in his face.
The hound looked at the person, a slim young raccoon boy and then licked his lips leisurely before moaning throatily and grunting sexily. The young fur merfed and the canine noticed that the youth's pants were tenting and a dark spot was popping up on the cotton material. The youth swore and then ran off making the hound laugh to himself. Life could indeed be entertaining as well as expensive.
Time passed as it always does and soon night came about. The hound's stomach rumbled as he realized he had missed dinner tonight. Usually he could get to the inn before they closed up and barter for some mead and left over milk. Oh well, time to tough it out. The hound found his fur bristling when a cool wind blew over his fur. The nights were getting cooler and soon it would be time to find a place to bunker down for the winter.
Someone walked up the stairs, making the hound flick his floppy ears to try and listen out for whoever it was. The wind wasn't favoring him at the moment as the fur's scent was downwind, so he couldn't smell anything. A firm paw smacked his covered rump making the dog raise his tail for another slap. He had half expected this. Someone was bound to come around and sample the free 'goods' on display so the canine just relaxed himself and waited for what was to come.
The dog found another smack hitting him on the rump and then groaned when that same wide, it had to be a wide paw since his entire left cheek was smarting, paw caressed the hurt area before reaching up and unfastening the strings around his pants and tugging them down. Warmth met his short fur when his leggings were slid down and then heat ran through his bum when his fur and flesh was kneaded by strong fingers. Had to have been one of the local smiths who was feeling him up. Or maybe the horseshoe maker? Whoever's paws were running around the globes of his bottom, they definitely were calloused and well-used from years of work.
The fingers slipped under his tail and played with the base of his long, black appendage before giving it a good yank and making the hound yip slightly before murring. Ohhh, he always loved a tease. Fingers ran under his tail and down to the cleft of his cheeks and then between the crest. His tailhole was tight on first touch and shuddered with the rest of the bound dog before the owner of the fingers forced a digit inside making the dog grit his fangs to keep from yowling like a cat in heat. He was not oiled, so the entry of something large and dry did nothing to calm his sensitive nerve endings inside of his body. More so, it almost hurt. Those fingers were so large and broad. Almost a good half with of an average cock the hound would estimate as a single finger slid into him all the way past the first knuckle to the second.
Digging around as if expecting to find treasure the dog groaned and moaned in pleasure as he pushed his hips back as best he could to get some more of that firmness he loved so well. The fingers pulled back making the hound whine and try and turn his head back to ask what was wrong before his answer came in the form of more painful pleasure. Two replaced one and sunk in even deeper as the furson behind him stuffed him full and played with his special button inside of his body. The same 'button' that made pleasure jolt like lightning into every corner of the dog's body.
Scissor like motions came next as the fur behind him tried to spread his puckered entrance open with force instead of technique. The dog growled as he spread out and soon filled with another finger. He lowered his head and flagged his tail in defeat as he soon realized that the other behind him was going to be either a short and quick lay or one of those burdensome guys he would have to school on how best to fuck another male. Those were the ones he made pay more for his services as they always just tried to ram everything in and then wonder why they weren't getting their money's worth.
"Hey, you back there: the one with the fingers, just stop. You are doing this all wrong." To his surprise the fur jerked and stopped pushing in his fourth finger.
"Ok, look. To do this right you need to come around here to the front and shove your cock in my muzzle. Don't worry about me seeing you; I can barely move my head up or down."
The furson pulled all of his fingers out in one go, making the dog yip shrilly. Damned newbie tailraisers, always doing it quick and without form or technique. Thankfully, the fur came up and around side to the canine's head and then presented himself to the hound's senses. Taking a good sniff, the bound dog found that he was in the presence of the local oxen armor maker himself. The scent of metal, oil, fire, smoke, and sweat ran rampant off the older male's body and clothing. No amount of washing would remove those scents. It was a good thing too since it meant years of fine craftsmanship went into making the armor soldiers wore.
Hey, he might not like the country's policy on taillifting but he could respect any man or woman who went out onto the battlefield.
"Ok, since you seem to be a willing participant in this night of debauchery how about you do me a favor and lose the leggings. I would assist but my paws seem to be a might bit restrained at the moment." The hound said cheerily as if talking about the latest court gossip.
The shaky paws of the other male made their way to the ties of his pants and then fumbled with the knots before untwining them. When the ties fell down, so did the pants from around the armor maker's thighs and soon the canine found himself gaping in awe. He had heard of some males being well endowed and even felt many of such facets of reality underneath his tail but this was...impossible. The thing in front of him should have been a steed meant to be broken and rode on into battle and not between the legs of the smith. It was as large as his own arm and it was at half mast no less!
The dog gaped and hummed in amazement before blinking and then reorganizing himself. He was a professional after all. He could do this with ease.
"Alright big boy, here's what you do: slowly raise that titan up and then stick it into my muzzle and then slowly start pumping your hips back and forth to make a good enough motion to ride it into my muzzle. I should be able to suck on it thought my neck is kind of constrained at the moment." The hound said as he wondered if he could he deep throat, given the circumstances.
The ox did as he was commanded to do with slow and measured paces. Grabbing his half-hard maleness, the bull placed the wet tip at the head of the canine's snout and then waited. In a few moments a warm tongue whipped over his cock, making the older male groan and snort out loud. Soon, he found himself pressing his phallus into the bound dog's lips of his own accord without much thought and then stopping when teeth met the flesh of his sensitive organ. The first good three inches of cock were inside of the hound's muzzle and being warmed deeply, even more than being in his own furry sheath.
The hound made a muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like 'pull back', making the ox withdraw his hips enough so that only the bare tip of his maleness was in between those lips. The dog grunted and made suckling-like motions onto the large male's meat, as if he were a calf suckling at teat, before he mumbled for the ox to start thrusting his hips. Like magic, or a testosterone-laden bull, the armor maker began to move his hips back and forth with quick, jerky movements. It was vexing for the dog at first since he had to pace himself to keep up with the oxen's movements and to keep from choking. The fact his neck was clasped in wood did nothing to help this situation, but as with everything life had handed to him, he adjusted.
Soon the bull was easily riding the velvet lining of the bound canine's throat. His full length rose up and quick: a bit thicker than the hound had first imagined, filling the space between them so that the bull had to step back enough just to get his first few inches inside without suffocating the other. For the moments after the initial contact the hound remembered all of his years of training and then began to use his skills to milk the bull. Using his tongue to dip into the hole that rained out thick globs of pre and pulling his lips into an 'O' like circle to coax more of his 'client' into his muzzle, the dog had the ox snorting and groaning as if mad while reaching forward and gripping the edge of the wood stock he was imprisoned in and splintering it with his bare hands.
When the bull's cock began to pulsate, signaling his end was coming soon, the hound made every sound he could from his muzzle to get the other to stop. It took a minute more than he would like and a few splatters of off white pre onto his face before the bull 'mooed' in question. It was the only way to describe that deep and yet resonating sound he made.
"Ok, stud," the hound coughed, "Darn, you are a virile one: all big and thick. You taste good though. Uhm, never mind that, come around back and stick that big thing in my tailside slowly." The dog dictated from his prison, ironic to no end.
The bull grunted and clopped backwards with heavy steps and breaths as he made his way to his former position behind the other and then took his shaft in paw and aimed it at the dog's loosened tailring. The shots of seminal fluids were enough to let the ox's full girth slip in for the first few inches without hurting, but soon it wasn't enough. The bull was THICK, and the hound was not oiled, but the dog discarded that fact as he grunted, moaned, cursed, swore, begged and pleaded until finally half of the bull was in him before groaning in exhaustion. He felt so full. And if he could look between himself he would see that his belly was being pressed out of a bit by the phallus of the armor maker, just the head for now anyway.
"O-Ok, big boy. Now do what you did up here but be careful! That's a valued commodity you are working with back there!" The dog said in warning. He did not want to have blood trickling out of his ass tomorrow when they came to flail him. That would be so tacky.
Slowly, like time crawling through a summer day, the bull pulled himself back until he was almost completely out of the dog's body and then pushed himself forward until he had as much in as before. His low hanging balls hung to the floor almost as they swung like melons inside the ox's stretched flesh. The larger male made his hips dance against the ass cheeks of the smaller fur as he let their flesh smack into each other's over and over and over again. The night soon became filled with the music of male sex as the hound moaned louder and louder and the bull drove more of his shaft into him. The force of that thick dick spread his insides open and rearranged them to the point where the canine's hips would soon be displaced to make enough room for the charging battering ram the ox called a cock.
The hound's stomach compressed whenever the cock was pulled away from his guts and then swelled, as if with new life, when the bull drove himself forward. As the armor maker slid himself deeper into the dog's body, the shaft traveled up further to where it pushed close to the hound's chest on up towards his windpipe. The black canine could almost taste the flavor of the bull meat inside of his throat from the constant battering of his backside and the movements inside of his body gaining more and more purchase. The constant shots of pre seeping from the ox's shaft exploded outwards and ran up into the hound's esophagus and then out down the sides of the dog's muzzle before the bound male could counter the actions.
When he gained more control of his throat muscles after coming down from his sexual high the black canine swallowed thickly, forcing what was spouting free from his muzzle back down into his stomach, which was filling rapidly with bull seed. The bull himself was in a world of newfound ecstasy as he let loose months of frustration out in the form of powerful thrusts into the dog's body. All of his thoughts seemed to clear and his mind let go of troubles and fears about being caught in such a predicament as he drove himself further into climax. Already his release was nigh as his balls drew up into his overheated body and began to burn almost.
The feelings for the two males were relative in nature as the hound felt himself also coming unhinged, thought sadly not from the stock, as his sheath swelled and his trapped cock pressed up from his pants that were around his knees to his midsection. It was uncomfortable erotic and even more so maddening. He was getting so much friction between his legs and yet not the right kind for coming undone by the massive male making mad movements behind him. It was so good. So sweet, that pleasure of flesh and body and yet torture to not be able to freely enjoy it.
The bull's cock was far up into the dog's body that the tip of the shaft kissed the inside of the hound's throat from the inside. The wellspring of pre that had been escaping earlier now shot out with maximum force as the dog could no longer choke down the musky muck of seminal fluids back into his now completely swollen stomach area. Instead the hound made true to his profession by humming a sultry tune that jolt the ox man behind him to grab hold of the stock and moan so deeply that his own ears deafened from the sound for a moment.
Not paying any heed to anything more than his own pleasure, the bull didn't see when his orgasm thrust up from his loins out of his cock and through the hound's muzzle. All the armor maker could tell was that the stars in the sky seemed much closer to his eyes, nearly blinding him, as their silent flashes went off right in front of his face. His balls wiggled intensely as they gave up their contents making the shaft of the bull swell to its full girth, spreading through the hound's guts and internal area to the breaking point.
The hound was in agonizing pain as he was filled in new ways on this night. His cock was now fully pressing against his stomach trying to get the necessary pressure to shoot off as his prostate was massaged and crushed at the same time by the swollen giant inside of his back entryway. There was pain and rapture mixed together like darkness and light in the dog's mind as he took everything given to him without pause. The cum shooting out of his muzzle through his throat had a thick and creamy texture like a salty stew and what little he could taste on his roving tongue before it was lost was greatly appreciated. Not the food he would have asked for supper, but delicious nonetheless.
The streams of white seed gushed out for long minutes turning the ground in front of the hound into a muddy and odiferous mess of male residue. The scent of earth and cum was all that was needed to make the black canine close his muzzle around the lessening torrent of seed and moan when his own cock fired seed into his pants. A warm, wet sensation of bliss swamped over the bound male, making his vision turn black for a few seconds before he came back to himself.
Having done the deed and slowly returning to the present moment, the bull found himself at a loss of what to think and what to say. He had never courted a male in bed before and was honestly confused as he realized just where his cock was buried and who was before him. A whirlwind of emotions blew through the armor maker before he groaned and shuddered when the dog's body began to pulsate around his phallus. It was an odd sensation that smarted and made the bull pull himself backwards to relieve his sensitive dick from the gripping vice it was situated in.
When all thirty or so odd inches of meat flopped out of the dog a river of pre that had been in the dog's stomach ran free and down the wood boards the two males stood on. It was an interesting sight to see and also a sobering one. In an instant, the bull found his left over cloak and ran down from where the stocks and headed back through the night to his workshop/home, leaving the dog alone with his thoughts and very open tailhole. The width of the hole could be compared with a normal sized cannon ball as it gaped open and stayed loose for minutes on end. A cool breeze blew through the hound's body making a humming sound almost causing the dog to chuckle despite himself.
Licking his lips, the black dog began to let his mind wander about the vicarious taste of the 'meat' he had just been feed when a change in the wind brought about the smell of aroused male to his nose: male tiger that is. Not being able to see, given his position, the canine laughed inside of his head when a feral smirk ran over his muzzle when two paws began to play with his anal region before one paw shoved its way into him, making the bound male moan seductively.
By the time morning came around and the chancellor appeared in the place where the hound would be, all he found was a thick mess of gunkish, clear slime running all over the stand with a mound of mud all around the once dry ground. The scents made the old horse cover his nose and shout indignation at the guards who began to squirm and growl in undisclosed appreciation of the smells drifting up their nose. Telling them to survey the area and find the escaped prisoner, the chancellor never noticed the stock which had been formerly sealed with an iron lock had been opened...or that some of the clear liquid that ran down the stand lead backwards...towards the castle...in his fit of disbelief and annoyance as he walked away to inform the king of what had happened.
Somewhere though in the well-polished walls of the castle...the wolf king already knew...and was busy confirming the escaped prisoner's release...right onto his lap while his younger son busied himself confirming his wise decision with the use of one black canine's throat.