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A month ago, Rok was the mighty Alpha of his pack, an Evil General of the Villainous Demon Lord and rising star of the Army of Darkness. Now he was a male-bitch and Slave-Wife, his own bestial instincts and secret proclivities towards submission sealing his fate as a conquered whore. His humiliation was complete, his Master tormenting him with pleasure until he had screamed out the truth of his shame for every wolf under his command to hear. His cock was nothing but a useless ornament, the contents of his balls wholly impotent, and he yearned to be bred by a real male. He'd then scarcely lasted a few quivering bitchgasms before pathetically fainting underneath his Master with only one load of superior Human essence pumped under his tail.

His Master was far from finished, and so Rok had been toyed with until the dawnlight, drifting in and out of consciousness, forced to imbibe mysterious potions which replenished his seed only so that the man dominating him may enjoy the sight of the hair-trigger wolf breeding the air and painting his belly over and over again without ever being allowed to run dry of impotent bitch-cream. Orgasms that had once been howling full-body climaxes had become the whimpering peaks of a broken male, his outcries a feminine moaning which invited the scorn of his watching rivals. How could they have ever been bested by such a pitiful excuse for an Alpha? The Human which had brought them all low and now shown them how pathetic their previous leader truly was looked to them much worthier of the mantle of rule.

By right of martial and carnal supremacy, he was now their undisputed Alpha, and the gift of his first command solidified Cyrus' popularity. The whole pack had been allowed to air their past grievances with Rok, having their payback for his years of monopolising the females and for his arbitrary punishments of potential rivals. Up until the next afternoon, he had been mated ruthlessly, his undertail left gaping and ruined as each male dragged free their knots by sheer force to make way for the next wolf with an axe to grind to have their turn. His fur had been inundated with their scent, save for his belly which bore the shameful marking of his own surrender, and now the reek of submission had become inescapable for him.

Soon after, he had been forced to embrace his brother and rival, Luk, the two of them entangling themselves with their knotted cocks grinding together, and their new Alpha had bred them both until they had fully emptied their balls against each other and reconciled in the solidarity of shared submission. In the end, they had collapsed into an embrace, and lost in the moment, had even surrendered to their desires and united in an incestuous kiss. They were both the bitches of their Master now, equal in status as his playthings, and no more fighting would be allowed.

Universal submission across the pack had lessened the sting of Rok's humiliation, the new Alpha deciding that before he continued his journey, he would mate every last Lycanthrope of breeding age. Before the end, a few of the females were already showing the early signs of pregnancy, their Master's seed having taken even after the sole fuck that his limited time had permitted them, those that were now set to bear him pups bragging obnoxiously to others that had been less fortunate in the lining up of their mating cycles. Rok and Luk's mother amongst them. They would raise their litters well, and one day present them as gifts, new warriors, and future members of his harem of concubines. As for the males, whom their Master seemed to generally prefer, they saw their time under the man as a test for their stamina, competing not only over how long they could last under him, but whether or not they could receive the honour of his essence under their tails before their own lesser species balls spilled their lupine cream onto the ground. Though, the Human was oddly gracious with them, never allowing any submissive to finish before him.

For the hedonistic Demon races, attentiveness to the pleasure of one's partner was rather abnormal, and the recipients of such enjoyment had come to view mating in a new light, one detached from the necessity of breeding and the humiliation of rivals. Up until now, power had determined everything on the island; hierarchy, breeding rights, territory, and their petty rulership over the other bestial species that shared the Domain with them. However, the wolves could no longer deny that their capacity for these carnal ministrations also had value, and their Alpha certainly appreciated their efforts in this regard. Enough to show favour to 'grateful whores' and those that fawned over him.

It had made his explanations of the wider world easier to understand. Strength had value. Pleasure had value. And so did the colourful plants, shiny stones, and other materials that Cyrus had shown to the pack on the pages of his picture books. Their Alpha made this clear to not only the Warrior Lycanthropes, but to the whole island of myriad beastfolk, including the weak foragers and homekeepers that scarcely left the inner territory – now even those that were once thought of as useless had a means of proving their worth to their new leader. Fighting wasn't the sole means by which they would be judged, and now there was a path for them to raise their status and perhaps eventually even claim a mate, rather than simply be used as the cumdumps of warriors.

A cultural revolution of sorts had been kicked off, and Cyrus had left managing it all in the hands of Luk, who had quite surprisingly proved to be something of a natural at bartering with the small group of merchants that Cyrus had invited to make landfall in a hidden cove. He had use for Rok and couldn't leave him behind, after all. Who else was going to suck his cock while he made the next leg of his journey? The previous Alpha was still sloppy and amateurish in his oral, but had taken to worshipping his shaft with the fervent ardour of a natural slut, and did so now…

“Hmph." Cyrus was unamused to observe his Slave-Wife reach an untouched climax, legs quivering through the course of a seizing bitchgasm. His pathetic moan was muffled by the cock resting in his broad muzzle, the wolf's own knotted length twitching against his belly, straining upwards for the first jet of male surrender to wet his abdominals before the rest of the load striped the floor in creamy lines of impotent lupine seed. On the one hand, Cyrus was quite flattered that his pet wolf could cum from nothing but the taste of his Master's cock. But on the other, the severe lack of sexual stamina on this hair-trigger male-bitch was something of a cause for concern for him.

Though, it was impressive for the wolf to be able to achieve climax at all given the severity of their current situation. Cyrus and Rok were currently inside a cage wrought of latticed wood placed at the heart of a large settlement of temporary structures. This was the caravan capital of the second Evil General, the island ruled over by the powerful Minotaur tribe, and two warrior bulls currently guarded the imprisoned pair, grand bovine cocks having entirely slipped clear of loincloths as the spear-wielding males watched Cyrus fuck a load of cum into his Slave-Wife's muzzle.

Rok closed his eyes, cheeks burning and ears pressed down in humiliation. Even now he still had his pride, his inner sense of worth as a warrior, and his lingering authority as the previous Alpha and Evil General. But, his Master never failed to tear it all to ribbons, invoking the Slave Contract to command him to open up his mouth and show their guards the mess of superior Human cum resting on his tongue, before tilting his head upwards and making a show of the movement of his throat as he swallowed it down. One of the bullfolk had started to masturbate openly, and Rok fully believed that after the Gladiator Minotaur Brutalius had killed his Master, he was surely going to become a plaything for these men, kept as a barracks pet and fucked by a queue of enormous males until his mind broke and his body was destroyed.

Though, that potential fate didn't bite quite so hard after he had been fucked through an entire night by his alchemically enhanced Master, and then thrown to his own pack to be made a bitch by every warrior in it on the next morning. He should probably make peace with that. His Master had gotten lucky with his trickery against the Lycanthropes, and there was no way that a miracle could occur twice. At least if he were to die here, then the humiliation would come to an end at last.

“Oh, don't look so resigned. It will all be fine. I promise." Cyrus spoke cheerily, resetting the functionally useless ceremonial armour that he wore as a bluff. If you didn't know better, you would think him a noble Knight, clad in shining white and gold plate equipment, a blazoned shield upon his arm and a shining silver sword at his waist. But it was all fake. His real power was in money. The Second Prince of the Kingdom, ancestral enemy of the Demon Lord and the four Generals, had armed himself with coin. In his mind, with his preparations, he had already bought this country and everyone in it. All that he had left to do was to deliver the final payments in person.

Rok wiped his muzzle with the back of his hand, “Why should I not, Master?" He fell back into a seated position, his tone tense despite the cute pink erection resting against his abdominals, “The Gladiator Minotaur is stronger than me. They say he used to be a slave in some Human country, a fighter-slave that fought countless battles and slew countless foes. After landing here, in just one year, he united his island and became an Evil General. Every Demon knows the story of how he killed his former Master." Rok smirked, proud of his complete explanation, “It gives me hope that I might one day kill you. Then I shall punish Luk for his insolence and take back my tribe."

It was quite hard to take those threats seriously from Rok while his cock was leaking the aftermath of his orgasm into his bellyfur, “Oh? But if you were to kill me, then who would pat you on the head and call you a Good Boy?" The Minotaur guard that wasn't masturbating chuckled to himself, and Rok growled as his Master made fun of him, “You've gotten awfully cuddly when I mate you lately. Don't think I haven't noticed."

“That is merely to lull you into a false sense of security!" Though, if that were true, then it was not something that you would ever say. Rok had surrendered to his Alpha, though his stubborn pride still resurfaced from time to time in the form of this feeble resistance. He would scream and beg, howl and threaten, bare his fangs and promise death to his usurper, but all the while his cock would be hard and straining against his belly, as if he was yearning to be conquered and put in his place all over again. To a Lycanthrope, that sort of complicated kink would have been incomprehensible. But to Cyrus, it was pretty garden variety, “One day, I shall have my vengeance! I am a proud Alpha Lycanthrope! I am the Evil General, Rok Ven Sur, and I will never submit!"

The Human nodded along, humouring his Slave-Wife. Better he be a little spirited rather than afraid. A rather large crowd had gathered, forming a ring at the centre of the travelling settlement which blocked the scattered huts and tents from view. Not only Minotaur were present, but several other bestial races too, including some quadrupedal and even feathered and winged species. Drakes and Harpies, Kitsune and Ratfolk, the various creatures that Humans had chosen to call Demons were much less segregated on this island compared to the one over which Rok once ruled. Though, the dominion of strength looked to have stifled development in much the same way, there were a few signs of ingenuity taken by weaker races to allow them some meagre status. A few crude metal weapons were dotted around here and there, mostly carried by some sort of lizard-like race. Cyrus looked forward to placing them all under his control. This primitive sort of living and the power balance against the Kingdom may have been fine for now, but with things on the mainland going as they were, soon-

That thought didn't get much further before the blaring of a horn rang out, the two guards (one of which had splattered the side of the cage closest to Rok in a mess of musky bull cream), stepped back, opening up the front of their prison as they did so. A crude wooden barrier was placed before the crowd to create a circular arena, and at the heart of it stood their foe, “How convenient. He's come out to meet us…"

Brutalius stood on black hooves at the same three-metre height as the Lycanthrope Alpha, yet the enormous bull was significantly more muscular in build, the definition of his body clear against fine chocolate coloured fur, against which one could just make out the dark runes of a Slave Collar about his neck. He wore only a white loincloth and leather subligar, his left forearm bound in a single steel manacle from which a short length of chain dangled. Upon his shoulder was the only modern weapon that Cyrus had seen on the two islands that he had visited so far, an enormous labrys greataxe thrumming with magic.

“Fine." Rok made a great show of his unwillingness, but still stepped out in front of his Master, splaying his claws, “I'm… not fighting for you. This is because if you die, my fate is uncertain…"

But, his Master only scoffed, “Sit down, shut up, and watch." He walked past the Lycanthrope to make sure that his Slave-Wife didn't see him smiling. If he'd commented on those words being cute, then he just might have finished off Rok's male dignity for good. The crowd were quiet enough for his voice to carry, seeming to be somewhat used to this sort of spectacle, the former gladiator having brought the arena with him. This time, Cyrus needed a different approach to the crude provocations that had worked on the wolves, “Hail Brutalius! I am Second Prince Cyrus Lux Magnus of the Kingdom! As I made clear to the guards that so kindly escorted us to this arena, I challenge you!" His tone was respectful, loud and steady, “I offer my life as my stake!"

The Minotaur allowed a few moments to pass in the quiet, basking in the moment, and then, “Hail Cyrus!" He called out, “I am Evil General Brutalius Ven Labrys!" As a born slave, he had no surname and so had adopted the name of his weapon, “Your stake is met, and your challenge is accepted!" He raised up his free arm, and the crowd roared dutifully. In just a year he had trained them all well in the honour and glory of ritual combat, introducing a culture that had never been seen before in the Seven Winged Archipelago.

“When I win, I shall make you my Slave-Wife and claim your territory for my own!" Cyrus boldly made his claim, “You will be my male-cow, and take your place alongside my male-bitch, the Evil General Rok Ven Sur, whom I have already conquered!" The Human could not have said to look too charismatic, but he spoke the well practiced lines with ease, “And soon, the remaining two leaders and the Demon Lord himself will be joining you as my playthings!"

Brutalius harrumphed, “I have heard tales of your valour, but imagine that you overreach! Your strength is paltry compared to the might of the Demon Lord! No doubt you are a great foe! Powerful, and handsome! An incredible warrior! I am honoured to fight you with my full might!" he readied his axe, “Should the unthinkable happen and I face defeat, I will submit to you! But, if I bow before you and become your Slave-Wife, you will not harm a single Demon of my territory! You will swear this!"

“I swear! En garde!"

Rok blinked. What? An incredible warrior? Handsome? Even to him, that entire exchange sounded incredibly stilted, and his anger at having being forced to sit the battle out by his Master quickly gave way to the uneasy feeling that he was about to witness more of Cyrus' contrived bullshit. He looked from side to side to find the crowd cheering. Perhaps all of the arena announcements were like that? No. His Master had been a lot more natural in how he had challenged the wolves…

Cyrus had not been disarmed for his imprisonment, carried off to the makeshift prison and arena not long after making his presence known on the island, and he charged his opponent with his shield as a wall, raising his defence as he closed in to meet the terrible blow of the enormous labrys. Rok winced. Whatever plan his Master may have had in mind had surely failed. Those strangely scripted-sounding opening remarks between the two must have meant nothing after all. Even if the shield were invincible, that weapon and the strength behind it would crush the Knight in a single blow beneath his own defence.

But then, as the labrys impacted the blazoned shield… the weapon exploded into fragments and Brutalius staggered back, “This… cannot be!?"

The Lycanthrope found his face to be spasming, a series of complicated feelings warring in his chest before his whole body just deflated. Bullshit. This was all such complete bullshit. It was bad enough that he'd 'bought' the Lycanthropes with a bag of weird silver goo and a water scroll, but this Minotaur… he'd been a traitor from the start!

Brutalius hammed it up, “My unstoppable labrys! This is impossible!"

“Not for me! I don't even need a sword to defeat you!" Cyrus was not much of a better actor either when it came to it, though the screaming crowd didn't seem to have seen through him at all. He cast aside his sword and his shield, one of the rings upon his fingers shining as light gathered in his fist, “Take this!"

The Ring of Force applied a small knockback effect, a convenient stagger to break the carrier free of a grapple and push their opponent back five feet or so. But when he struck Brutalius, the Minotaur was 'thrown' a full thirty feet across the arena, slamming down hard against the earth, “You… You are even stronger than the Demon Lord! Such… magnificent power!" He pulled himself to his knees, body shaking, and bowed his head, “I see from that, I cannot best you. A flawless defence, and an overwhelming offence. There is no need to fight further and risk our fight destroying the arena. If you were not holding back, surely there would have been casualties amongst the spectators! I submit! You win!"

Ten minutes later, Cyrus, Brutalius, and Rok, were alone in the chieftain's tent, the large space lined with exotic furs and featuring an enormous and quite comfortable looking throne of exotic fabrics and cured pelts stitched into patchwork over wood. It was lit by a single oil lamp, the heavy curtains sealing out the daylight. Warm and comfortable, with shelves of daily amenities, a table of meat and fruits, and a clay urn that stank of alcohol, “Well done, Bru." Cyrus shook hands with the beaming Minotaur, and was then pulled into an embrace with the larger male, “I am – oof – pleased to see you again!"

“And I you, my Master! Grahahaha!" He carried the Human that had 'defeated' him over to the overlarge throne and placed him into it, the armoured fake-Knight offering no resistance, “As promised, I became an Evil General. With my surrender, this island is yours." He bowed his head, “And greetings to you, Rok Ven Sur. I am looking forward to submitting to our Master at your side. May we raise our weapons and our tails for him together." His tone was formal and eloquent, more educated than any Demon should be, “Our lupine companion appears to be at a loss, my Master! Could it be that you have not explained our arrangement to him?"

“What the hell is going on!?" Rok fumed, “You traitor! You have sold our people to the Kingdom!"

“Hmph. One cannot betray a side which one was never on. My allegiance is not to any Kingdom either, but to my Master alone, and I would thank you to never again imagine that anyone but he could ever have my loyalty!" The Minotaur folded his muscular arms, the chain dangling from his manacle clattering, “I am proud to be the possession of my Master. Should you insult that bond or show him disrespect, I shall make you regret it."

Cyrus raised his hands, dividing the two males, “No fighting… I suppose I did take my joke a little far. I wanted to reduce the chances of this plan going awry. Our bad acting was rough enough already, though seems to have fooled them all into thinking that I am an indestructible fighter that can send their most powerful warrior flying with a single punch. That's what any spies will leak back to the Demon Lord."

“Let me tell you the story then, Rok…" He got no further before a horn of mead was pressed into his hand by the dutiful Minotaur, and after a nod of thanks, he continued, “Bru really was a Gladiator of the desert nation of the far South. I watched his fights for a time and grew interested in him, and hoped to meet him as a fan. I moved a little gold around to make arrangements, and eventually managed to find myself in a room with him. We became friends, and eventually Bru trusted me enough to tell me a rather frightening truth…"

The Minotaur nodded his head, “My previous Master was a cruel man of a great many sins. To raise my axe in his name was an affront to my honour. It was a great risk to surrender what I knew, but I was ready to give my life to put an end to his evil."

“So, I pulled some strings, and to make a long story short, I ruined him." Cyrus skipped over a great many steps, not feeling that a desert adventure which could have filled a few books was particularly notable, “I inherited his possessions, including the fighter-slave, Brutalius, whom is probably responsible for my proclivities towards the Demon races. And my preference for males as well, if I am being honest. We journeyed together for some years, then I sent him ahead to spy on the Demon Lord's Domain for me, and to take over the mantle of Evil General from the warlord that once held this island."

Cyrus looked rather pleased with himself, “It is because of Bru that I have a good idea of how the five islands look and was able to prepare some of my countermeasures for the Generals." He sipped from his mead horn, “The labrys shattered because it was always supposed to when it contacted this shield. I'm glad that I don't need to carry it anymore now that the enchantments are done with. For a prop, it was a little heavy. Bru - I have a new axe for you in my Extradimensional Pouch that I'll hand over later, too. The strike was a Ring of Force and a bit of acting. And… that's about it."

“What contrived bullshit. That's not fair." Rok scowled, “You really have already bought this whole country…"

“My Master is an exceptional man." Brutalius bowed his head again, well used to the position of servitude, “Master – I have prepared some cows of calving age. Perhaps we might celebrate our reunion by breeding them together?" He gave a rather coy smile, “Or would you rather have me? Your unworthy male-cow has missed you greatly." His gaze drifted to the annoyed looking wolf, “Watching my peer pleasing you earlier made me a little jealous. If I may be so bold, you spoil your Slave-Wife by allowing him to get away with such a sloppy oral."

“I agree." Cyrus nodded his head, finding the scandalised look that Rok was wearing to be rather amusing, “I'll have you teach him, then. I want him to learn how to use his muzzle, be trained well enough to take me under his tail without fainting a few bitchgasms in, and make sure he learns how to use his cock, too." He smiled, broadly, “If you would like to think of it as a reward, then I will have you now. We can enjoy those cows together later. This is a good opportunity for a lesson, though. Why not lose the subligar and have my male-bitch warm you up? Rok – be a Good Boy and obey your senior Slave-Wife for a little while."

On the cusp of some new humiliation, Rok snarled, “D-Don't I get any say in this!?"

Brutalius shook his head slowly on his Master's behalf, “Of course not. This marking around our necks means that we are Slaves. It is our place as the conquered to obey." He folded his arms, “And we should be grateful to have such a wonderful Master. My service has been rewarded with powerful weapons, a harem of breeding females, the authority of command and glory of battle for a righteous cause. Though, I would trade it all for a little more time in Master's bed as his male-cow. Every second you waste fumbling around with his cock instead of skilfully bringing him to orgasm is a second that he could have spent mating me!"

The bull huffed, taking an imposing step towards the Lycanthrope, “You are going to learn your place, you pathetic whelp. You impotent whore. Master has commanded me to train you, and so I will." Their height was similar, but the build of the Minotaur was sufficiently muscular for Rok to struggle to hold his ground before him, “On your knees. Make sure that our Master has a good view."

“How pitiful." Cyrus smirked, “For all your resistance, that cute little pink cock of yours is already starting to poke out of its sheath." He chided Rok as the former Alpha fell to his knees before the senior Slave-Wife, ears and tail lowered in embarrassment, “Bru is going to breed you on my behalf pretty often from here on out. Not just to teach you. But because I like to watch my males at play, and you're such an expressive little slut. The look of absolute broken shame you wore when I had your brother knot you… after I get these islands a little more developed, I might commission a painting."

He licked the too-bitter mead from his lips, relaxing into the furred throne to enjoy the show, “This is what you're for, Rok. Serve me well, and you'll get the same privileges that Bru enjoys. Normally I'd say that after you've proven your loyalty, I'll be gentler with you. But, that straining male-bitch cock of yours tells me that this is the way you prefer things." Cyrus scoffed, “Pathetic. I bet a quickshot slut like you could probably reach orgasm just from listening to me degrade you a little."

The Lycanthrope shuffled a little on the spot, squirming impotently as his outcry of denial died in his throat, expressed only as a stuttering growl. He hated this. When his Master brought him to heel like this, there was a strange feeling mixed into the arousal, not just the excitement of impending pleasure, but the most wonderful sense of something like relief. To be controlled by a superior male felt right, there was the most blissful freedom in absolute submission, his heart unburdened as his Master took care of everything. But, his ego interpreted it as weakness. His lupine pride rejected it all, and without that pride there could be no humiliation.

And it was that brutal shame that was making the pink knotted cock that his Master always called 'cute' divest a few drops of precum to slicken the length and wet his sheath. Yes. There was no doubt that this feeling alone was probably enough to make him cum. No wonder the females he bred would give him such scornful looks when he creamed their cunts before even tying them. Surely, the males that he had brought low with his strength and then fucked as discipline laughed at his impotence behind his back when their only path to orgasm was to grind into his knot long after his cock was spent. On his knees, being fed a load of musky bull cum, learning how to better please his Master and the superior Human cock that had conquered him – this is exactly where he belonged right now.

What further humiliations awaited him in the future? The wild fantasies swirling in his head made him cringe downwards, and when he opened his eyes again, he found that the Minotaur had shuffled himself out of his leather subligar and disposed of the white loincloth beneath it as well. The bovine sheath was a little shorter than his own, bereft of fur to present as jet black leathery skin. The orbs beneath were much larger than his lupine pair, and the slight taper of a pink cock mottled with the same dark shade of his undercarriage was now half-grown to the swell of a medial ring.

A large hand grasped him by the top of his head, dragging the unresisting wolf up against the other male, until his nose pressed against the churning balls and Rok was fully engulfed in the animalistic scent of him. The slightly sour smell made his head swim, not because his keen senses rejected it, but because the presence of a masculine creature that was so vastly his sexual superior was enough for his tail to instinctively raise. Rok shuddered, requiring no bidding to start gently lapping at the churning orbs before him, suckling at the warm swell of male potency.

“You bow just like the cows that Master allows me." Brutalius flexed his fingers into their furred head, “When I am at full mast, use that broad tongue of yours to drag slowly, base to tip. Get a sense of the scale of my cock before I'm forcing it down your muzzle." He instructed, his own small tail sweeping the tufted tip back and forth behind him, “Since you're new at this, you'll only be taking me to the medial ring." That point was about two thirds down, and he indicated the slight band of it with the thumb of his free hand, “The lesser males I have painting the floor always shriek as that passes over their bitch buttons. Should Master wish for it, I shall make a great show for him of you painting your chest."

Rok whimpered slightly. The heat before his muzzle, the scent of a grander masculinity, the combined humiliation heaped upon him by his Master and senior Slave-Wife, it was bringing him to the brink of an untouched climax. If only he had the silver band that numbed his cock to seal behind his knot. But, even with that, he would only be able to stay his climax for so long. Cyrus took another sip from his mead horn, “Look at him shivering. It won't be long now, Bru." His voice turned a little prideful, “Make sure you get a good look at his face when the male-bitch creams himself. It's adorable… Oh, here it comes."

Brutalius dragged the lesser male away from his crotch as his Master bid, his fingers curled into their headfur to force them to look up at him, “Nghhh…!" The wolf made a truly pathetic sound as he suppressed the howl of his climax into a dull grunt, biting his lip and scrunching up his face. His hips thrust impotently beneath him, instinctively breeding the air in front of him as his swollen knot failed to sink into the cunt it was searching for. His lupine orbs twitched, and from the slanted head of his cock erupted thick ropes of male surrender, the pungent scent of submission cloying the air.

There was no time allowed for recovery. Brutalius returned Rok to the base of a now fully erect maleness, the throbbing spire of masculinity as large as his own with another half added on top, he scarcely had the sense of mind to dutifully extend his tongue as he was dragged from the tight sheath up to the tip. There, he found the first droplet of precum, and the potent taste of male musk extended his quivering bitchgasm into another few impotent spurts.

“What an eager whore." The Minotaur commented, “However good in a fight he might be, I'm astounded that no dominant male has made him into a pet slut before now." The ease of Rok's surrender may be something of a detriment when their Master had so much sexual stamina to blow off, but there was a remarkable allure to this pathetic submission. Brutalius knew that his Master liked a grateful whore, and with a little training, this whimpering supplication would be quite to their tastes. He couldn't help but grin, looking forward to the praise that he would receive from his Master when he delivered Rok to him as a full-fledged Slave-Wife.

That would not be for a while, though. A long while, judging by the sag of weakness that had washed over the mewling wolf in the wake of their orgasm. A quickshot with zero sexual stamina, a true failure as a male, Brutalius was helpful enough to do their work for them. He took Rok's head between his hands, lined up the slight taper of his cock to a panting maw, and with a slow lunge, leveraged his weight into his grasp to fuck their muzzle.

Not bad. Though, it was hardly a compliment when the pressure around his cock was controlled by his grasp around the lesser male's jaws, and the pace set by the drag of his hands and thrust of his hips. Until this submissive male-bitch learned how to perform the motions for himself, the Minotaur would probably have to muzzle-fuck him like this quite often. Yes. And while Rok was under training, it would be Brutalius that would receive the honour of sucking their Master's cock! So long as the impotent wolf collapsed after a few quivering bitchgasms, the privilege of being his favoured male-cow belonged to the Minotaur as well. If not for his extreme loyalty, he might have considered meandering a little with his training method…

All of the Evil Generals, and most likely the Demon Lord as well, would probably need to be instructed like this, and with his experience in the regimented world of gladiatorial combat, there was no better instructor in these carnal arts than him. Now was another chance for him to prove his worth to his precious Master. And then, perhaps, if the Human that owned him would be so kind, he could be bred by him until his bovine orbs were fully emptied onto the floor in front of him as well.

Though, it looked like the first load was going down Rok's throat. The wolf had choked more than once, but the compulsion of the Slave Contract wouldn't allow one of them to injure the other, so there was no reactive clamping down of his jaws. The bull never let up for a moment, leveraging his superior strength into mercifully breeding the muzzle of the lesser male. His precum was leaking in a steady stream to drool from the corners of the Lycanthrope's maw, the sloppy mess sheer against the black fur of their cheeks.

Rok had given up on thinking. His mind had been swimming through white fog for a while now, and the few motions that were allowed to him came from the dull guidance of his inherently submissive instincts. A proper male had forced their better cock into his muzzle, and he should be grateful for the occasional breath of air that he was allowed between the battering fuck of his throat. What would his pack say if they could see him now? He thought back to his first claiming, the eyes of a hundred Lycanthrope warriors boring into him while his Master made him a whore.

Somehow, this was even more shameful. He was being used as the plaything of a plaything. No matter how much grander a male to him Brutalius was, the Minotaur was still just a male-cow to their Master. At this rate, when his Master conquered the Demon Lord's Domain, Rok would find himself the very lowest of all of the Slave-Wives. He swallowed, his throat constricting against the plundering cock. Would his Master command all of them to breed him, too? Perhaps, when it was not their turn to share his bed, he would be thrown to those males as a token, a toy to be used to their satisfaction. Or maybe, he would have them all fuck him broken, one after another, simply as a show for his amusement.

He couldn't help but imagine it. Rok brought to his hands and knees, worshipfully suckling at his Master's superior Human cock, while that enormous bovine length was forced under his tail, mating him until everything that made him a man had been fucked out of his own impotent knotted cock to pool beneath him. And then, his undertail gaped and pumped full of musky bovine cream, Brutalius would drag the spire of his masculinity free for the next male to take his place.

Brutalius huffed again, a deeper tone thrumming from his core to bleed into the exhalation of his burgeoning pleasure. He'd rushed his way to orgasm, using Rok as a means to take the edge off so that his Master could properly take his time with him, but a bovine climax was exceptionally messy even in a case like this. His cumshot was explosive, and rather than hilt to the median ring or pull back to paint Rok's face, he continued his thrusting to extend the pleasure of his peak, filling their mouth and throat, and then sloshing the mess over the silvery fur of their chest.

The wolf scrunched up his face again, choking on the mess of musky bull essence as his small nose began to leak streams of thick and creamy Minotaur cum. He gulped down as much as he could, the heat drawn to his belly, and his own submissive bitchgasm practically unnoticed, his knotted cock adding his impotent seed to the mess covering him. Brutalius pushed him away, the final jets of his seed painting the ruined male's chest. Rok had fainted, but the Minotaur couldn't care less. Because his Master had stripped the faulds and defensive plate of his midriff and exposed his cock to the air, casting aside his drained mead horn to beckon him over.

“Take a seat, male-cow." He tapped at the armour of his thighs, the reinforced cuisses of the ceremonial gear just enough to take the weight of a male one and a half times his size. There was no need for the Wand of Cleansing. If he knew Bru, the bull would have prepared himself for this moment thoroughly in advance, and he anticipated that the servile male was probably well-lubricated as well. Cyrus had missed that diligence, though there was quite a lot that he had missed about this Minotaur.

With a small bow of the head, he responded, “Yes, my Master. Please excuse this unworthy male-cow." He advanced on the Human, and then turned and lowered himself as if he were to be the one to sit in the throne, grasping fingers taking the foot length of his Master's cock and guiding it to the puffy ring of his bovine undertail. A familiar spire of dominant flesh slowly pressed into him, sinking through the silken vice of his insides, gliding over his bitch button and applying a constant pressure, and then hilting at his molten core, “Thank you, my Master." He spoke with practiced gratitude, “Thank you for breeding me-"

Though now, something a little unexpected happened, “Be still." Rather than ride the Human as usual, he was bid to pause, relaxing his weight into the armoured seat. Cyrus took a slow breath, testing the range of motion allowed to him beneath the bull. He knew what Bru's weak point was, and by embracing the larger male from behind, he could reach well enough to toy with him. His hands stroked up the chocolate fur of muscular lats, around to the front and higher, until he found the bull's chest. And here, he pressed his fingers into the fine fur and found the dusky flesh of puffy nipples.

“M-Master… M-ooo-ooo…!" Brutalius, the Evil General and former Champion of the Arena, made a wonderfully submissive lowing groan as his Master seized his teats between finger and thumb and dragged them outwards as if milking a farm animal.

“Hmph." Cyrus teased, “I can feel your insides wringing me while I toy with you. After all that effort you put into humiliating Rok for me, are you going to bitchgasm around my cock just from having your udders played with?" Quite an amount of force was required to make sport of the resilient body in his lap, but the Human was putting in his full effort, twisting, dragging, squeezing, and thoroughly bullying the puffed up nipples of his male-cow, “You put on a great dominant act while you fuck lesser males for me, or make a show of breeding some whore. But behind it all, you're just of much of a slut as the wolf is. A submissive male-cow that creamed himself so hard on my cock the first time that he was fucked, that after I released him from his chains, he redid the Slave Contract all by himself and begged me to make him my Slave-Wife!"

The next twist was particularly brutal, and the shuddering Minotaur was prevented from immediately bouncing in his Master's lap only by the force of the command bidding him be still. This was the treatment that he'd spent the past year pining for. In that time, he'd fathered several calves, fucked a few rebellious males until they broke on his cock, and formed a small harem of rotating whores. But, he'd still found himself every night bouncing on the carved wooden facsimile of his Master's cock, playing with his sensitive nipples and moaning the name of the one that owned him. Not that he'd ever be so discourteous as to use any word but 'Master' in Cyrus' actual presence…

This was his real reward, and gracious to the attentions of his Master, he made no effort to hold back his voice, “M-ooo-ooo!" No wonder he had bid him dump the first load of his cum down the throat of his junior Slave-Wife – if not for that, then his already-twitching cock would have likely spilt its seed already. The manhandling of his chest was an electric pleasure, every motion made by his Master reflected in the grasping twitch of his insides around the cock resting inside of him, his undertail milking the Human of a stream of precum, just as the same motion was made to his udders. Though, the only milk that Brutalius was able to make was the sort that was produced in his balls, “Master – I'm going to…!"

A small reprieve was allowed. Cyrus wanted his Slave-Wife to have a satisfying bitchgasm as a reward for their year of service, and had no intention of rushing them into pleasure-addled ruin. He ceased in his groping of their chest to allow his hands to slide downwards, one suspending the heft of their churning orbs, and the other gathering the slick of their precum leaking cock to slowly masturbate the bull in his lap. His thumb slipped against their medial ring, and another quivering mooing sound rang out, Brutalius captured inside a cruel cycle of edging.

The heated churn of their potent orbs weighed heavily in Cyrus' hand, and he plied a small amount of pressure, fondling them while he stroked their cock, “Male-cow really is the perfect title for you. I can keep you at the edge of cumming like this all day, pressing down your bitch button with my cock and playing with this bovine meat…" He squeezed at their length, “But if I just pit you on your hands and knees and played with your chest, you'd empty your balls over and over for me. Do you remember that vacuum device we experimented with in the Western Republic?" Cyrus gave a happy sigh for the memory, “Clamping those suction cups over your nipples, I left you chained up until the next morning with a bucket under your swinging cock. Good job filling it up. Better job drinking it after."

During their travels, he'd made sport of his Minotaur Slave-Wife often and learned many of the practices of dominance that had allowed him to Master the likes of the Lycanthrope pack so naturally. He'd milked his bull, spanked him, left him in chains and edged him, filled him with vibrating toys, set him in stockades to the mercy of a dozen horny slaves, and even made use of a Wand of Polymorph to take the form of a whole list of beasts not only to fuck him as, but turn him into and then fuck. For every time that Cyrus had been a Giant Snake, wrapping the Minotaur in his coils and forcing two cocks under his tail at once, or a crushing Allosaurus mounting a breeding-post strapped male-cow – Brutalius had been some animal small enough for his Master to wield him as a cocksleeve.

Cyrus had been left with a mind crammed full of a litany of depravities, and he would use them all to break the four Evil Generals and the Villainous Demon Lord to his will, until each of them was fully addicted to the pleasure that only he could provide. Humiliation and degradation for Rok. Servitude and chest-play for Brutalius. He looked forward to unlocking the kinks of his remaining foes, and leveraging them to make them all his mewling whores. He'd fill out his harem with a few female concubines, too. Rok's mother amongst them. The male-bitch had made such a conflicted expression when Cyrus had fucked her to broken wombgasm right in front of him and impregnated the elder bitch. He looked so deliciously guilty that his cock had been dripping the whole time. Perhaps in the future Cyrus would use alchemy to cure Rok's impotency and have him breed her as well. He hadn't decided yet.

“Hmph." The history books would probably forgive him a little bedroom deviancy for the good that his grander plan would achieve for the Kingdom. Well, they'd better do. Or his army of heirs would hold the writers to account.

His hands roamed back up to Brutalius' chest, and the quivering grasp of his undertail about his master's cock was incomparable to the few twitches when only his crotch was stimulated, “Slut." Cyrus declared, delving into more memories, “Remember when we used a Scroll of Humanoid Form to make you a female Minotaur for an hour? Your milk was delicious. Rich and creamy. I prefer males, but I can't say I mind a gushing cunt on you." He enjoyed the recollection, and the wonderful squeeze around his cock told him that the male-cow liked it as well, “It sticks for the duration of a pregnancy if you get knocked up. Train my Slave-Wives into good whores for me, submissive males and grateful sluts, just as I like – and maybe I'll reward you with a gravid belly."

Male or female, Cyrus had no qualms about fucking his offspring when they were of breeding age. Magic and Alchemy could correct any defects, and he looked forward to being called 'Daddy' by whatever half-Demon progeny ended up riding his cock. Though while it was only an idle fantasy for Cyrus, the thought of a humiliating gender-swapped pregnancy was enough to send the Minotaur impaled on his cock into a full-body bitchgasm.

“M-ooo-oOO!" The deep bass of his submissive wail was crowned with the eruption of his cock, the force of his orgasm propelling his seed almost as far as the unconscious Lycanthrope. His body jerked pathetically, and a deep blush that his short fur could not hide settled into his cheeks as he was gifted the privilege of feeling his Master pumping his own load of superior Human cum into his heated core, “Thank you- Your unworthy male-cow is so happy, my Master…!"

“Elbows and knees, Bru. Now that you've had your fun, I need to blow off some steam…" The submissive male immediately set himself sprawling, the mess of his own seed beneath him and the steady leaking of his swinging cock promising that at least a third bitchgasm was on the cards for him. His Master forced his head down, and the wetness of the furs beneath him melded with the scent of male submission. His face was being forced into the impotent cum of the Lycanthrope, the seed of his Master leaking from his undertail to join his own musky bull essence beneath his lower body. It made his hooves dance.

Cyrus wasted no time, setting his cock beneath a small tail that dutifully raised for him, the hilting of his maleness allowing a much better penetration from this position, and the slapping of his Human undercarriage against those large bovine balls a lewd slapping that turned loud and wet as the leaking essence dripped from his undertail to his undercarriage. There was a sharpness to the sound quite different to the deep lowing, and it was that noise which brought Rok back to wakefulness.

He could scarcely believe his eyes at the sight that greeted him, although the view was not exactly unexpected. The powerful warrior male that had so easily dominated him, was moaning sweetly as he pushed back against his Master's cock, his own bovine maleness leaking a steady stream of submission into a pool below him. His expression was one of rapture, his eyes misted and cheeks red, his breath coming in small huffs and exhaled into moos of stuttering pitch, it looked so different to the mild amusement that he'd leered down with when he'd bred Rok's throat.

Male-bitches, male-cows, they really were all just whores for their Master. It was an arousing thought, but also a strangely lonely one, and Rok immediately pushed that weird feeling deep down into the darkest depths of his heart, the shock of him experiencing such an emotion bringing him to a state of full awareness. No. He wasn't jealous of the closer connection shared between Brutalius and the Human! That would be preposterous! He was… simply hopeful to earn the same rights and privileges as his senior Slave-Wife! That was it. Surely.

“Masturbate." The sudden command from his Master took him entirely by surprise, and the compulsion of the Slave Contract had him spread his legs and set his paws to his resurging cock. Making a show of himself was as much of a welcome distraction to him as it was an arousing diversion for his dominant male, and Rok dutifully toyed with his cute pink cock as it slowly grew in his hands. The scent was too overwhelming for him, the odour of his own submission, the musk of the potent Minotaur, and the smell of his Master – that glaze of Human supremacy that had worked its way into his core and moulded him into a subservient whore.

Focused entirely now on his own pleasure, Cyrus seized the hips of his moaning male-cow, churning the creampie that he'd already fucked under their tail into a frothy mess of dripping cream. The shlicking of a well-reamed hole was a truly lewd sound, and even the bulletproof Brutalius squirmed with shame to the soundtrack of his ruin. His Master crushed his bitch button with every thrust, and after a time, he was arching his back in his third and final orgasm of the evening, his body collapsing into the lake of male surrender he'd been leaking from his cock ever since his Master had bade him fall to his elbows and knees.

The Human wasn't finished, continuing to breed his prone body for a few more strokes before dragging his cock free to paint the chocolate fur of Brutalius' back with lines of thick white domination, crossed with the impotent seed of Rok who was quick to bring himself to his own orgasm in time to his Master. Cyrus scoffed as the only recently roused wolf succumbed to weakness, not quite unconscious, but unable to keep pace with any further pleasure. The bull would soon recover, but he wanted nothing more of his longest serving Slave-Wife at this point but for him to serve as a backrest for his Master.

Two payments had been made now, and to take possession of this country there were three exchanges remaining. Cyrus exhaled, leaning against the heap of furred submission piled up behind him, idly running his fingers through the thick black scruff of his wolf and silky chocolate of the bull. The Pay-To-Win Hero smiled, slipped off his Ring of Stamina, and went to sleep.

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the second entry of this gratuitous smut. Next up, I'm hoping to do a large group scene, and so am open for suggestions for an Evil General with a lot of minions that will be good for that! The current forerunner is the idea of a Gnoll pack from Samael028 (I'm keen for suggestions for any small or medium race, so keep up the contest, please!) – and the current forerunner for a suggestion of what beats them is 'useless/budget items' from Cyril Dran (please suggest as many stupid magic items as you can in the comments, everyone!). For the last Evil General, I want something feral – with the current forerunners being Hydra suggested by Kougar (beaten by the Hydra Problems meme), and Dragon from TheMemesWantMemes (beaten by paid-off kin). Also, please let me know if you want to see any interlude chapters or side stories!

This piece was a combination of the Minotaur suggestion from Cyril Dran, and the Debt idea from Etnom which placed Bru into servitude before the series even started (he was the other lit gem of the slaving artifact seen last chapter). Thank you very much for your ideas! Special thanks to comments on the last piece; Samael028 for the encouragement (your gnoll idea is in the lead!) Etnom for the Polymorph Scrolls that had me thinking of past diversions for Cyrus and Bru. Berry2257 for some more money ideas! Cyril Dran for that budget items idea. Gignir for the tagline and kind words! And NoNoNope who had me thinking about Rok/Luk/Mother. Cheers for every fave, folder sub, vote, watch, comment, PM, and every last view!

It looks like I may as well churn out all five of these while I'm on a roll, so after giving it a day or two to see if any suggestions knock 'Gnoll + Budget Items' off the top spots, and if there are any more ideas of budget items and gnoll lewd scenarios as well, I'll be back to work on the next piece. For this series, I've really been… uh… leaning into the lewd stuff. It's been a good bit of fun experimenting with a more active style of progressing scenes too, with a bit less lingering description and feelings, and a bit more fucking. Though, I couldn't resist having Rok start to crack a little. I wasn't expecting him to end up having such a bit part in these, but his submissive perspective has been fun to explore – and I have the usual emotional progression planned for the next entries (because even in this hardcore stuff, I can't stop myself slipping in some sort of romance). Anyway, thanks as always for the support, you legends.

Have a most excellent day.