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A thousand years of war had divided the Seven Winged Archipelago into East and West, and while there had been no direct military confrontation for a few centuries now, the endless feuding of two fundamentally incompatible nations had never broken into peace. The two largest islands of the West belonged to Humanity, and a millennium of Kingdom rule had evolved the monoracial nation into a great maritime trade power, wealthy and orderly. It was a land of Lords and Ladies, Knights and Kings, dotted with castle-fortresses and sprawling domains in which the Human race had made an aegis of their technology and financial superiority. The five smaller islands to the East were quite different. That was the territory of the Demon Lord, populated by myriad races that melded their various irreconcilable cultures into a land in which might was right. It was a country that bordered on anarchy, held together by the crushing individual power of the Four Evil Generals, and the Villainous Demon Lord who ruled through the blunt force of absolute edict. A tribal island-chain nation with a savage aesthetic was perhaps the most apt way of putting it.

It was no place for a Human. It was especially no place for Second Prince Cyrus, clad in a full suit of gaudy white and gold plate armour. The man was a two-metre giant, pale skinned with long blond hair tied back into a ponytail and the sort of build befitting of a Knight, but there was a certain something missing from his almost-archetypal appearance. His face was a little plain, and his blue eyes a bit too sharp with calculation. There was none of the vital charisma and charm one would expect of such a figure, nor any sign of the sort of idealism associated with a Hero. Despite the elaborate armour, the blazoned shield, and the shining silver sword – Cyrus thought of himself more as a Merchant than a Knight. Everything had a price. Anything could be bought. Even a country.

Up against the power of money; honour, dignity, respect, and fairness, meant nothing. So, in the pursuit of his objective, he had discarded all of these things. For the most part, anyway. The near-bottomless wealth of the Royal Treasury was the source of his strength, and even the fabulously expensive ceremonial gear he currently had equipped was at the cost of little more than some pocket change to him. It was a mere trifle, and it served as a bluff, this appearance as an ideal Prince-Knight something that he had purchased. And Cyrus believed that the best part of having money was spending rather than hoarding. In preparation for this day, he had spent so much that he imagined his father, the King, might faint when he received the bill.

“So long as all of that gold was just sitting in the family vault, it was just dead wealth anyway. I suppose I shall just have to make the argument that I have been… stimulating the economy. Mostly the mainland economy if I'm being perfectly honest." He boldly chattered to himself, not looking to have a care in the world as he strode the forest paths, “What a quaint little walkway this is. I must talk to the Evil General about getting a proper road put in. Something to link his capital settlement to the new port town that he's obviously going to build on the side of the island closest to the Kingdom. He'll need it for trade. A wonderful little national endeavour. I project the investment will break even in under five years, and then on from there…"

Cyrus idly did a little mental accountancy, paying more attention to his sums than where he was going. He had invaded one of the islands all by himself, making landfall in a small rowboat and striking a rough course for the twin peaks breaching the distant skyline. The information that he had gathered assured him that the Evil General and his associated tribe that ruled this first island could be found there, but he imagined that they'd confront him a long time before he managed to get anywhere near it. There were surely eyes on him already, keeping their distance as they tailed him. No. This partial-encirclement was guiding him. By the time evening fell and he reached the plains beyond the forest, he would likely be met from the front by the main force and left with no chance of escape. There was no trace of tension to be found, though.

“Hahaha… Yes. I recognise that plant. And that one. Those mainlander Alchemists would pay a small fortune for a steady supply. No wonder they have their eyes on the archipelago… Oh. The colour of this stone. How fascinating. Those caverns are likely quite the treasure trove of mineral resources." Cyrus pulled out his pocketbook and made a few choice notes, “This is proving to be quite the profitable venture. Subtracting the cost of tools and external expertise, and a fair rate of pay for local employment, assorted miscellaneous expenses, a sizable slush fund… I wonder, would it be better to nationalise the resources for long term gain, or lease mining rights to get us a little more startup capital? That is a calculation requiring a broader insight into what this country has to offer… I must revisit this thought later."

The two Lycanthropes hidden in the undergrowth nearby were starting to wonder if this interloper was quite insane. They had drawn close enough to be able to take note of his words with their sharp senses, but when the rest of the troop caught up to them, those reported musings sounded to the lupine race as complete nonsense. There were several tribes populating this island, and the Alpha Lycanthrope and his pack were the current rulers by right of strength. Around a third of the warriors now tailed this oddball Human, and the remainder of their force would head him off on the plains. Then, their Alpha, so excited to have a worthy opponent that his tail had betrayed his emotions with a rather furious wagging, would challenge this man to a one-on-one duel and send him back to the Kingdom in pieces. No Human Knight could defeat a Lycanthrope Warrior, and their Alpha had his position by being the most powerful member of their race. The strange invader was surely doomed.

Cyrus wasn't much worried about the hundred or so warriors and their undefeated champion of an Alpha, though. In his mind, he had already purchased them, and all that remained was to make the final payments in person. Business would surely be a pleasure, and Cyrus was very much looking forward to this particular transaction. So much so that the rather villainous expression adorning his face might make anyone that saw it wonder if this Hero could just be even worse than the Demon Lord.

He'd walked for a day at a leisurely pace, the enchantment of a Ring of Sustenance removing from him any need to eat or drink, and the Ring of Stamina staying any fatigue. A Ring of Temperature Control kept him quite comfortable in the summer island heat, and he held up his hand for a moment to idly appreciate them, “A trip to the desert nation of the far South well made, I think. Though, a few magic rings don't much match up to the true item of value that I found there…" He smiled at the memory, silk sheets, bestial horns, binding chains, and the carnal pleasure of monster races. It had certainly been… educational, “Ah, the trees thin ahead. I suppose I have no time to reflect…"

The scene before him was perfectly thematic, and Cyrus was rather pleased that his selection of this timing had provided him with a view so suited to Lycanthrope aesthetics. He had been allowed to advance into a wildflower meadow, just as the light of the sun died and the silvery hue of a full moon came to shed a gentler illumination upon the world. From the trees behind emerged dark shapes, and a much grander force was assembled to the fore, one vast Warrior heading them as a complete encirclement of snarling wolves formed.

Thanks to a Ring of Nightvision, Cyrus could see quite clearly. He'd even shelled out for the more advanced version that allowed him full-colour vision rather than a black and white filter. His Ring of Enemy Detection alerted him that every foe of the battlefield was present, and there were no reinforcements for him to worry about, and he flexed the fingers and thumb of the hand that bore these five rings. Money well spent, and a nice windfall of the Dungeoneers Guild retiree that had sold him the last two magic items of that hand.

The lupine people stood at heights that began as low as his own and reached as high as the three-metre-tall leader, the species looking a little top-heavy with powerful looking upper bodies supported by digitigrade legs set to a wide stance. Black furred and silver chested, his enemies wore no clothes, male and female alike, provided modesty by thick fur adorned with a few esoteric tribal accessories. They were disciplined, but completely lacking in any wariness now that they had captured their prey. Even the weakest of them could easily defeat a Knight, after all – and the full hundred were enough to dominate the much more numerous other races that shared this island with them.

“Human Knight!" The Alpha advanced, but only a step. His body was vibrating, his tail whipping around wildly. Nobody had challenged him in years, his pack entirely under his thumb and the other residents of his island unworthy of his time. He was excited, and keen to fight, “I am Rok Ven Sur! Demon Lord General! I grant you the honour of single combat!"

This large wolf looked quite pleased with himself. He didn't know much about the world outside of his island chain, but he knew enough about the Kingdom to anticipate reciprocation of his challenge. He had spoken the magic words that would give him a good fight against any Knight. The Human however, tilted his head, “A duel? I'm very grateful for the offer, but…" He shrugged, “I came prepared to beat all of you at once. You Demon races only bow to those that are stronger than you, so it's a bit of a problem for me if you don't give me the chance to make that obvious. Could you do me a solid and all attack together? I'd really appreciate that. Thanks…"

A wind blew through the scene, rustling the tall grass and making the flowers dance. In the absolute silence that followed Cyrus' statement, the whistle of it was especially loud. The Alpha blinked, “…What?" Was this Human insane? His scouts had reported that he had been babbling to himself while making the journey to the heart of the island, but the knightly attire had been enough for Rok to wave it off. Or rather, wilfully ignore it since he was so looking forward to a proper fight. His nose twitched, and suddenly he felt rather embarrassed. After getting himself so worked up for this grand battle, this Human had made mockery of it, “How dare you!?"

Cyrus sighed. He'd hoped that statement might have been enough to provoke a charge. According to a few rumours that he'd overheard about himself, Merchants that he negotiated with always referred to him afterwards as 'distinctly unlikable', and he imagined that doing his usual thing would work out here, “Or you could save me a little money and all just surrender right now?" His voice was an unamused drawl, quite different to the good-natured musings of his forest path travails, “I'll take you as a Secondary Wife, and your pack can join my forces. If you want to fight… then it'll work out the same way – but you'll have a Slave Collar on you."

There were a lot of things completely incomprehensible about what Cyrus had just said, but one of them in particular was an assault against Rok's pride, “WIFE!? I'M A MALE!" One of his men, his younger brother and rival, Luk, snorted with a suppressed laugh, but immediately shut himself up when met with a truly furious glare from his Alpha. The elimination of this intruder had degenerated into an absolute farce, and the ludicrous exchange between their leader and the Human had befuddled them. Within the pack, hierarchy was established not only by strength, but by sexual domination. Lesser males were fucked into submission, defeated females were bred to gravidity. For this outsider to tell their Alpha that he would make a wife of him was about the greatest insult to the authority of Rok that he could have made.

So, Cyrus was rather pleased when the wolf finally howled and charged. Along with an army of a hundred. A wall of bristling fur, gnashing fangs, and slicing claws was closing in around him at a rapid pace, every Warrior desperate to be the one to present his head to their Alpha. A pity then that none would get the chance. Cyrus didn't really have any martial or magical talents of his own. In fact, he was rather ordinary for the most part. But what he did have, was a lot of money, and the preparations of years for this moment. So, he dropped his shield to free his arm, and from his Extradimensional Pouch, dragged out a large burlap sack around the size of a Human torso, and held it aloft. Sewn into the front of it was a Spell Scroll, and the Magic activated in accordance with his will.

A pillar of water formed around him, the frothing crest taking on a silvery sheen before the great wall encircling Cyrus exploded outwards in the form of a massive Tidal Wave. The wolves were too close to evade, some taken into the brunt of the surge by the momentum of their charge, some anchoring themselves to weather it, some attempting to leap above only to then be swallowed up on the fall. The Alpha, whose mind worked a little quicker than his peers, had allowed himself a smile before the attack landed on him. A little water? That was it? He braced himself, confident in the knowledge that after the swell had passed over his pack and dissipated, he would personally be tearing this foolish Human apart!

But when the water passed them all by, only Cyrus was left standing, “Well… that was easy. None of you thought to run even though I looked so confident? Are you idiots or something?" Every Lycanthrope was paralyzed, their bodies limp as only the strongest of them managed a little feeble flailing, “The Scroll was a work of art. I had one of the better mages of the Republic a few countries West of us pen it for me. Very expensive. I hope you're all grateful to have been able to witness that masterpiece." Cyrus boasted, casting aside the remains of the burlap sack, “And as a Catalyst… I started out with Silversheen, an agent to disable therianthropes. But, less than a minute isn't enough of a duration for the enfeeblement for me to do what I want, so I funded a little research. In the end, we got a sticky mix that's particularly good at soaking into furred races. If you're lucky, you'll be able to move again by dawn. The development costs were way more than the Scroll, and a whole sack of it was plenty expensive, so I do hope that you can make this worth my money…"

“You…!?" The Alpha twitched, the only member of the pack strong enough to have access to his voice, “Expect us to bow!? This was not a… fair fight!"

Cyrus shook his head, “Of course it wasn't. Who says that I have to fight fair? You're beaten, so you will bow as you should. The method hardly matters." He grinned, and the look was a demonic contrast to the heroic looking armour, “Weren't you going to rush me with a hundred Warriors? This is war. I'm here to conquer you, not to have an honourable duel. Did you think I was a Knight just because I'm wearing armour? It's your fault for making that mistake. My informant said you were desperate for a good fight, but provoking you was even easier than expected. Well, your boredom is over now." The Human gave a small 'harrumph', slowly approaching his downed foe, “According to my research, most of the assorted races that we call Demons, that is to say, any non-Human, will wilfully submit to those that are proven to be more powerful than them. I think that demonstration was more than enough for your pack to prove that I am the mightiest, but it looks like you might need a little more convincing."

He began to slowly walk a circle around the Alpha, and in his wake a line was burnt into the meadow, “I need you to control the pack for me. And by extension, this island. So… I'm going to make you into my Slave." The circle was complete, and Cyrus shuffled an amulet out from under his breastplate. Five jewels surrounded the emblem of a crown, one of them strongly aglow, one a burgeoning gleam, and the remaining three dark. He held it aloft and arcane runes began to inscribe themselves onto the ground surrounding Rok, “The contract can only be sealed if you submit to me willingly. So, I'll make a little bargain with you."

Fear had gripped the Alpha, his whole world starting to fall away. He leapt at the chance, “What sort of… bargain!?"

“If you can hold out until dawn without surrender, then I'll let you go." Cyrus shrugged, looking like he didn't much care. He could just pick another wolf to be Alpha and carry on with the rest of his plan, after all. As for Rok, he probably wouldn't get far. The Demon Lord would never forgive him for losing a whole fifth of the territory. He either surrendered to the Human, or was hunted down by his former Master. There was only one obvious choice, and that was to submit. The wolf growled in response, and this pleased Cyrus, “Oh, impressive. I thought you were just a brute, but if you followed that deal to its natural end point, then there is a head on your shoulders after all. Now I absolutely must have you. You're going to make an excellent Secondary Wife for me."

“You… bastard!" Rok marshalled every ounce of his strength, but is was scarcely enough for him to raise his head from the grass. Those crawling arcane characters had completely surrounded him, and the Magic made the nature of the contract clear in his mind. To submit to the Human while inside of this circle would bind him as a Slave, unable to act against his Master and beholden to their every command, “I'll… kill you!"

The Human shook his head, “No, you won't. None of you had a chance from the start. I've paid to win, and I have an unfair cheat counter to just about everything inside the Demon Lord's Domain. If you think my victory here was contrived, you've seen nothing yet. Don't worry, though. I'm not going to kill a single person. I'll have the Evil Generals as my Secondary Wives, and the Demon Lord for a Queen. Your warriors are too useful as war power for me to squander them. I suppose I shall have a few as concubines as well. If you have a mate or favoured female, point her out for me. I'll let you watch me put some pups in her. I hear Human seed will take in a wolf-person, but I would like to be sure for the sake of my larger plan."

It was a grand display of arrogance, delivered with the frankness of a man entirely sure that his vision would come to pass. Cyrus was quite good at playing the villain. He was being entirely honest in his goals, but there was a lot more to it than he was about to admit to his defeated foe, and making clear the broader scope of his ideals would probably undercut him at this point. Right now, it was better to be the bad guy. After all, he was relying on that instinct in Rok that forced him to submit to the strong. Now, he spoke like a conquering warlord, and it delighted him to see the much larger male gulp despite himself. He'd never seen a male like this before. Cyrus continued, “To respond to your previous outburst, I don't mind at all that you're male. Or that you're of another species. In fact, I quite like that."

Cyrus sighed, the tone of it a satisfied hum, “It pleases me that the Demon races respond so well to superior power, even if mine is cheating. And you're all quite receptive to pleasure, as well. It's fascinating to me. You're a pack Alpha, aren't you? You must have experimented a little? Keep a male of your kind as a pet for long enough, and you can fuck them into submission. Not just the sort where you're bowed to, but proper submission. Complete loyalty to the cock that made them into a bitch. So, yeah. I'm going to breed you until you become a good little Slave-Wife for me. It won't be long before you're begging for the chance to bounce in my lap all of your own accord, just so you can show your Master what a grateful whore you are. The loyalty of a canine type is particularly endearing once won, and I intend to enjoy it thoroughly."

The wolf continued to struggle, but a sliver of pink at his sheath was enough for Cyrus to turn particularly smug, “And you don't entirely reject the thought of it, either. It's only natural for the weak to submit to the strong, after all. A few lewd words and you can't help yourselves. How many rivals have you beaten down and then had raise their tails for you? How many females have you knocked up? How many males have you fucked until their minds broke and their cocks turned useless?" Cyrus chuckled to himself, speaking as though the Slave Contract was a foregone conclusion, “Well, you belong to me now. And I'll be having my fill of your pack, too."

He reached into his Extradimensional Pouch and withdrew a set of manacles, using his foot to shove the Alpha onto his front and then making use of the silver chains to bind his arms behind him. The Lycanthrope was already paralyzed, but this fresh source of immobilisation was made necessary by the small wooden length that Cyrus then held out before him, “A Wand of Cleansing." He explained as he flipped Rok back around and triggered the Magic, “It'll clean you inside and out. Naturally, that includes the Silversheen variant, so I made sure to bring manacles just for you. We can't have you struggle too much. But, it would please me if you struggled a little."

“W-…wait!" There was no longer any escaping from the reality of this situation after such a preparation had been made. Rok had been defeated, and as he was forced to come to terms with that, his instincts to submit had started to take hold, “Not… not in front of the pack!"

Cyrus scoffed, “Are you in any sort of position to bargain with me? Yes. In front of the pack. I want all of them to hear you howl when you paint your chest with your pathetic bitchgasm. And after you submit all the way and the Slave Contract takes hold, I'll deny you the ability to hold back your moans. Every one of them is going to watch the Evil General become my faggot pet. I wonder if some of them will become jealous? Oh. Perhaps that is a little conceited of me…"

It was a warm night, and they had a moonlit meadow for bedding. One might have considered the scene quite romantic, if Cyrus didn't have such a villainous look on his face, and the clearly aroused Lycanthrope did not appear to be in the depths of despair. Rok had never lost a fight in his life, and so had never contended with these instincts before. His race was not known for being particularly verbose either, and so the intensity of the lewd fantasies that the Human was pouring into his ear was making him squirm. How could this have happened? A matter of minutes ago, he was a proud warrior ready to demonstrate his honour in ritual combat. Now, he was on his back, wrapped up in silver manacles that felt like ice against his fur, robbed of strength, and with his canine cock slowly emerging from his sheath. His blood was up for the fight, and now it had all turned to arousal.

There were eyes all around him. Those pack members that were fortunate enough to collapse in a position where they were capable of watching this play out had transfixed him with their gazes. The smug face of his rival, Luk, hurt most of all. This humiliation crushed him into the ground. And that same humiliation made his growing maleness throb. The accursed Human was about to conquer him to an audience of his kin – and then after making him his Slave-Wife, demand that he then continue to lead those wolves for him. He gulped. Perhaps he could be spared the destruction of his pride if he were to offer up the whole pack as well? If the Human dominated them all, then his own submission would not be so grand a weight.

Yes. He could make a gift the breeding females for him to impregnate, and wrestle down unruly males for him to fuck into domination. So what if they became so submissive to him that their cocks stopped working properly? If this man became their new Alpha, he would be the only one with the right to breed anyway, “Ah!?" He winced, willing himself back from the brink of those ruinous thoughts. The Slave Contract had almost taken him, not for spoken submission, but for the near-surrender of his heart. That was all that it took? If he was fucked to an untouched bitchgasm, the sort of shivering male climax that he'd used to break the will of his rivals, then it would surely be the end for him!

He growled. That end was inevitable. He realised that already. But, if he surrendered easily… he had the feeling that he would become more pet than person. And if that came to pass, then his functionality as an Evil General and use as a Slave-Wife would be nil. A pragmatic person like this would probably discard him if that happened, “I will resist…!" He snarled the declaration mostly to himself. Rok was going to hold on for every second that he was able to, or the combination of his Demon instincts and the Slave Contract would destroy him as a male.

Cyrus was quite impressed. It really was just like flipping a switch. Though, he'd done enough research before coming here to be relatively assured of that. It would have been simple to demand the military surrender of those that he had defeated just by leveraging their instincts against them, but the pressing of a carnal element did much to deepen the submission offered up to him. He would use sexual domination to bind the leaders of this nation to him, and then… well, now was hardly the time to reflect on his larger plan. His Merchant senses revelled in the acquisition before him, and he was quite keen to take stock of what he owned.

The Magic Rings adorning his fingers and thumbs were a bit too overwrought to fit inside gauntlets, so past his vambrace his hands were bare, Cyrus dropping to a knee beside his conquest and splaying his fingers into the fur of their chest. It was a thick mane, and before the use of the Wand of Cleansing, a little shaggy. Now, the silvery chest was quite soft to the touch, the core of the defeated male rather warm. Not bad at all. The silvery colour accounted for most of their underside, up to the throat and down to the inner thighs – while the black fur of their back and wider body proved sleeker and finer beneath the drag of his fingers.

“Not a bad pelt. You'll make a good bedwarmer for me, at the very least." Just as Rok had been looking forward to the fight, Cyrus had been equally keen for this moment. The wolf was much larger than he was on the whole, and the maleness between his legs appropriately proportional, “Interesting. The variation in genitalia between the Demon species is fascinating. You're my first canine type, so I'm looking forward to seeing the knot. That has quite the reputation. I hope that it's humiliating for you when it binds you to nothing and you breed the air." He fondled the sheath loosely, that alone sufficient to fill his hand. Draping lower, he found a large pair of orbs hidden in the thick crotch-fur, “Very warm. Don't you worry. We'll have you emptying these out over your chest in no time." Each was near as sizable as his fist, and the wolf gasped and twitched at the slightest exertion of pressure. His canine features scrunched up and his tail quivered, the expressive reaction distinctly inhuman, and Cyrus delighted in the exoticism of it.

“Argh…! You…!" The Lycanthrope squirmed, a soft and dexterous hand very unlike his own making sport of his most vulnerable spot. Defeated, laid low, and now being made into the plaything by the victor, his traitorous instincts told him that this was correct, and submission to his better was his proper place. However much his mind raged against that, his body reacted contrary to his will, and inch by inch, his cock emerged. The Human, looking rather curious, observed every moment, looking down on him as if he were nothing but an object. It truly pissed off Rok that this dispassionate gaze only aroused him more, but some strange sense of pride in him demanded that he appeal to the better male enough for them to set their eyes upon him as more than just a curiosity.

Was this how those that he himself had defeated and taken for playthings had felt? Did they experience the same strange yearning to be desired by him? He shook his head forcibly, though the paralysis made that motion little more than a slight jerk. They hadn't. He would have noticed if they were fawning over him. So, was this just him? He couldn't imagine that he had any attraction to this Human as an individual. He didn't even know his name. But that could only mean… that his own preferred proclivities… leaned towards the submissive? “No…!" He moaned out the denial as the Human grasped at his cock. Those desires were not something that an Alpha Lycanthrope could allow himself!

Cyrus had no idea that his conquest was struggling with some sort of inner struggle centred around the discovery that they just might be a sub by preference. And if he did know, he wouldn't have cared. However dominant a Demon, wrestle them down, defeat them, prove your superiority, and fuck them long and hard enough – and they would surrender all on their own, down to the depths of their Soul. Lycanthrope, Dragon, Harpy, or even Elf or Halfling. In this world, every non-Human was a Demon, and every Demon answered to power. Turn that power towards the carnal and…

The pink cock before him was fully engorged, the rather vibrant colour making Cyrus grin, “Cute…" he chuckled to himself. The slanted head was leaking precum, the smooth shaft heated to the touch, and large knot already solid with need. He used his fingers to release the strain of the sheath that had caught on it, and the maleness flopped down over Rok's chest gratefully, “A good foot in length. What a pity, though. That knot is impressive, but you could only fuck someone with the top two thirds or so because of it. It makes you inferior to me. You may have a party trick for the finale, but I have the grander overall cock to fuck you with."

He wrapped his fingers around it, only just able to fit the length inside his grasp, using his thumb to spread the canine precum over the slanted tip, and then slowly pumping his hand, “You look so pathetic. Your footclaws splay a little bit with only this much pleasure. I don't need my cocksleeves to have much stamina, but I can't imagine someone like you ever pleasing a female with technique. I bet the only way you get anyone to cum is by forcing your knot in and grinding it around a bit." Cyrus scoffed, toying with the male and assured by the pressed down ears equivalent of a blush that his words may have struck the mark, golden eyes refusing to look at him, “I bet you act like a bigshot when you make some weaker male cream themselves under you. But really, you know the truth. You're already spent, and they're just grinding their bitch button off your knot before you go soft."

The gaze of the pack had never felt more brutal than at that moment. Rok tried to catch the eye of past conquests, but none of them would return his look. Cyrus continued the breaking of the defeated male, “It's a pity. I wanted to watch you knot one of your pack for me, but it feels a little lame if they're not going to enjoy it. Well, that settles things. From now on, that cock of yours is nothing but an ornament. The only use it has is to show me how much you like being made my whore by painting your chest when I'm toying with you. Now, be a good puppy and-"

He didn't get any further than that. All it took was a little stroking and the Alpha humiliated himself with a shuddering load of lupine cream striping his belly in thick ropes of male submission. The most powerful Lycanthrope, the Evil General, Alpha of the pack and ruler of a whole fifth of the Demon Lord's Domain, moaned like a birthing female and orgasmed harder than he ever had in his life before an audience of a hundred, “Good boy…" His Master crooned.

Just thinking that word was more than enough. The ritual was complete, the arcane characters scrawled over the ground crawling over his body, flowing to his neck and encircling it with a series of inscriptions that formed a black ring akin to a tattooed collar. The runes raised up through the fur, and while the dark colouration of the back of his neck concealed much of the Slave Collar from view, the symbols were stark against the silvery fur of his throat. It was a mark of his submission, and now Rok was unable to defy his Master, or act against him. He was an owned male. An enslaved Demon. And with this act of submission turned towards the carnal, his body yielded naturally to the grander male. The defeated Alpha collapsed fully onto his back, his manacled arms beneath him naturally raising up his midriff. Slowly, he defied the weakening of the silver to spread his legs, and closed his eyes. His traitorous tail wagged.

“No. You don't get to look away. Open your eyes." The command shot through him, and he obeyed. It was a strange compulsion, one in which as soon as his mind could recognise the order, his body followed it reflexively. It wasn't a power that could control his thoughts, but it denied him agency of movement at nothing but his voice, “Soldiers of the Evil General. Your leader has surrendered to me." Cyrus spoke loudly enough for them all to hear, “I claim the title of Alpha. If any of you want to challenge me for it, then you'll have to get past my Slave-Wife first." He was devious enough to make his former foe into a wall to protect himself, “And those of you that want to join him in raising your tails for me… well, I'll have a little time before the next phase. For now, I encourage you all to watch me break the will of this lesser male." He grinned, “Rok. Don't hold back your voice. That's an order. I want even the ones that can't see to know how grateful you are to be my whore."

This prelude to pleasure was like a negotiation for Cyrus, and just like when dealing with any mercantile opponent, he had built a profile in his mind of the wolf and leveraged it to his advantage. Strong and smart on the surface, the powerful and dominant Alpha of his kin – but behind that, he was a quick-shot that couldn't satisfy his conquests, a natural submissive that had never learned his proper place. Well, he was about to be taught his most suited position now quite thoroughly. The natural leader side of him was useful. Perhaps even respectable. But from here on out, it would be Cyrus breeding the pack females and fucking any unruly males into surrender. It didn't matter what was between their legs. All of them were bitches to him.

Fortunately for Rok, his new Master had something of a solution prepared for his hair-trigger. This particular contrivance wasn't readied in anticipation of the Alpha, but as a means of tormenting and making example of any male that might challenge him next. He removed it from his Extradimensional Pouch, a silver band about as thick as his middle finger forming a small loop, the trinket purchased from an Imperial slave-merchant. Magic made the metal as malleable as soft rubber, but it was quite inexpensive compared to some of his more ludicrous purchases. He slipped the ring over the head of the pink canine cock, sliding it down and over the knot and allowing the enfeebling silver to rest behind that engorged bulge.

Rok squirmed pathetically. The sensation sealing the base of his cock was like ice, dulling the sensation of his maleness but doing nothing to stymie the arousal that kept it straining against his belly in the leaking aftermath of his orgasm. Cyrus nodded his head, always ready to dispense exposition for his every action, “A perfect fit. I won't allow you to go soft before I've had your balls empty out your impotent bitch-cream completely. The reduced sensation will make sure that I have enough time with you to enjoy myself before you break, too." His fingers trailed through the mess of canine submission dousing the fur of his belly, “What a strong scent. Even if I have your face to the floor and your haunches raised, I'll know when you make a puddle under yourself."

The gentle prelude of foreplay was a right that this bitch had not earned. Cyrus unlatched the faulds of his armour, and dispensed with the defences of his midriff and crotch. The segmented plate was mostly ceremonial, allowing more of a sense of movement than any realistic defences, and it was quite ideal for him if all he wanted to do was unveil his masculinity without fully disrobing. His cock came to rest beside the offering of the wolf, and he couldn't help but smirk. He'd not skimped on bodily enhancements when the opportunity had come up during his travels, and thanks to those mainland Alchemists, his Human masculinity was quite equal to Rok's foot of length, and while he lacked a knot, there was a broadness down the full shaft superior to the canine.

“That's my bitch-breaker." He spoke proudly, making sure that their audience heard him, “And unlike you knotted wolfkin, I can fuck with the whole length. I don't waste my time tied up after I'm done, either." Cyrus loomed over the lesser male, the manacled conquest helpless to resist him. Though, the slight upwards cant of his hips towards him could be seen as nothing but eagerness, “Time for you to learn your place…"

Cyrus positioned himself lower, pressing the head of his cock against their yielding undertail and leveraging his full strength to claim their virginal depths, “AaaAAahhhhHhHHH!" Bok's outcry could not be called a scream. It was the defeated moan of a male that had once thought himself dominant, now learning the satisfaction of being impaled on the cock of his Master. The stretch was tremendous, the heated sensation of pain sublimating the numbness of the silver band and allowing pleasure to leak through as the grinding head of their maleness crushed his bitch-button on the advance.

The wolf rolled his hips unconsciously, managing a small motion despite the enfeeblement of his bondage, the pink cock that his Master had called cute now leaking a steady stream of impotent precum into his bellyfur. He had expected agony, and yet the hilting of his Master and the resting of his superior Human orbs against the base of his tail was the greatest bliss of his life. He wanted more. He needed more. But, his Master wasn't moving, the Human wearing a look of mild amusement as he enjoyed the grasping warmth of a defeated bitch wringing his cock. Noticing their gaze, he smirked, “Enjoying yourself?"

The compulsion of the Slave Contract compelled an answer, though he fought all the way, “Y…es…" The pleasure was overwhelming, his body leaning into his instinct to submit to a superior male, and his own proclivity towards such surrender combining to make his cock throb with the urgent need for release. He was close. So close. But the numbing of the silver band prevented him from reaching orgasm from nothing but the pleasure of penetration. If he was going to cum, then his Master was going to have to fuck his pathetic bitch-cream out of him.

Rok's nose twitched. Pathetic bitch-cream? How could a proud Alpha possibly think such a thing about himself? And yet, the degrading words of his Master were sinking into him. The cock of a real male was inside of him, claiming him, breeding him. He looked down at his own maleness that he had always thought of as impressive before today. It really was true that he'd never succeeded in satisfying anyone with it. It really was just an ornament, just like his Master said. And if he accepted that, then what awaited him was the pleasure of being a Slave-Wife. Would that really be so bad? He'd still have his power as an Evil General. Still be the leader of this island. But, his role would be as his Master's faithful bitch. A tailraising whore whose useless cock painted the earth with impotent seed when his owner was on his back.

His pack was watching him. But now he felt strangely numb to their gazes. As the defeated, they all belonged to this Human now. He was Master to all of them. And impaled on that superior Human cock, Rok was a favoured consort of which they should all be jealous. Yes. He should be feeling proud of this. His hips rolled again, still denied urgency by enfeeblement, and the feeling of frustration clawed at him. There was a slight bulge against his abdomen, just visible through the finer fur of his belly, the outline of his Master's cock visible beneath the mess that his own lupine length had made.

“Please…" Swept along by the pleasure, betrayed by his instincts, ruined by his desires, he couldn't help but beg, “…Br…eed… me…"

Cyrus took a slow breath, exhaling his satisfaction as those words came from beneath him. Power decided everything on these islands, and his martial trick followed by a little carnal domination had made the Alpha Lycanthrope into his whore. Now to press the advantage, “Louder. So all of them can hear you. And with more detail, too."

The wolf strained, the last bits of rationality in his pleasure-drowned mind still screaming for him to resist. His lip quivered pathetically. And then, he burst, “Breed me! Fuck your Slave-Wife broken with your bitch-breaker! My cock is useless! I can't satisfy anyone with it! All it's for is painting my chest with my impotent seed!" Humiliated tears began to stream down his cheeks, “I don't have a mate! None of the female I tried to breed got pregnant! This is what I'm for! I need your cum, Master! I need the essence of a real male inside me!"

He could no longer stop himself, the defeated warrior unloading more than Cyrus had ever imagined, “Your cock feels so good!" He moaned whorishly, “I'm nothing but a male-bitch! I'll do whatever you say! I'll let all of the other males in the pack mount me to prove my submission to you! I'll cum on their knots and show them all that I'm no good for breeding! And then – and then – I'll hold them down so you can show them how a real male fucks! I surrender! The pack surrenders! The females are yours to breed! The males are your playthings! I'll beat down anyone that dares defy that rule! I'll be a good Slave-Wife and hold the whole pack in line for you! Just please! Please! Breed my unworthy-"

Cyrus interrupted any further glorification by the slow withdrawal of his cock, the passing of the head of his maleness over the defeated wolf's bitch-button having them stutter the finale of their surrender into another truly whorish moan. Rok's voice had gained a mildly feminine edge, and the idea of such submission thrilled him. The whole pack as carnal conquests, eh? He'd intended to just take some concubines, and experiment with breeding a few females. A hundred warriors, though? And who knew how many were back at the village? He did a little mental maths. He'd brought plenty of alchemical enhancements, and could afford to stay a while before moving on to the next general. Yeah. That settled it. He'd fuck a load into the womb of every female and have every male humiliate themselves with a quivering bitchgasm of their own.

And on the note of quivering bitchgasms, it took only two more thrusts of his cock for Rok to paint his chest a second time with one, the wolf howling through a full-body climax that had his enfeebled form twitching pathetically beneath his Master. Cyrus growled, the grasping pleasure along his own maleness a silken vice that he looked forward to getting used to. The Lycanthrope Alpha was huge, a writhing bestial creature of bristling fur, flailing claws, and chittering fangs, yet beneath the battery of his cock, they looked so helpless in pleasure, their cute pink maleness spurting impotent ropes of pearly white into silvery bellyfur.

“Good boy…" It felt appropriate praise for a canine submissive, and between his armoured legs, an enfeebled tail slowly wagged in response. Cyrus had found a steady rhythm to his own need, sparing himself a moment to look up and take stock of their audience. Such a grand declaration of the whole pack being made to bow had certainly stirred a reaction, and the ruinous pleasure that their Alpha seemed to be experiencing had leveraged the prospect of surrender into something desirable. Robbed of the ability to move by the Silversheen variant, males could do nothing to tend to hard and dripping cocks, and females frustrated by their need could only look on with matted-fur thighs.

These Demons were sexual creatures, surely – and as their new Alpha and Master, Cyrus had some amount of responsibility to take care of that. Not that he much minded that particular obligation! The second-largest one that had sniggered earlier, the male that looked to be the rival of his Slave-Wife. Cyrus was quite looking forward to fucking the resistance out of him. Yes. He'd have him raise his haunches and tail for him to fuck. And set his muzzle to the cock of his previous Alpha in devoted service while any trace of rebellion was bred out of his swinging furred orbs to pool beneath them. Those two rivals could learn to be devoted male-bitches for him together.

Right now, though…

His attention returned to the squirming male, the moans that Rok had been ordered not to hold back now loud and throaty. The pitch change in his voice was becoming a little more evident, the constant howling gratification having ruined his throat. Cyrus altered the pace of his thrusts, leveraging the downward striking of his hips and amusing himself with the staggered breaths that the motion induced. His superior cock could fuck with the full length rather than losing a third to the knot, and with it he was carving out the insides of the defeated male.

Their legs had spread wide, his hips held upwards invitingly to beckon his Master to greater pleasure. No shortage of precum had been forced under his tail already, and the slapping of Human orbs against the wet fur of his raised behind combined with the shlicking sound of a well-fucked undertail. To the backing of whorish moans, it was a truly lewd noise, and the sensitive ears of many wolves revelled in the sound of ruin, nostrils filled with the scent of male surrender, the submission of their peers, the need of untouched cocks and unfilled cunts. Martial defeat was twisted into carnal subservience, and all thoughts began to turn towards how it would feel to be beneath the Human that had bested them. Perhaps they should hold a fighting tournament to determine the priority order of who had the honour of raising their tail for him next?

A shuddering howl announced Rok's third bitchgasm, his pathetic cock twitching as the churned up cream of his malfunctioning orbs painted his chest yet again, the mess soaking into his fur in a lake of male surrender. He'd lost the use of language now, and Cyrus was not about to waste his breath on lewd commentary that the lesser male was too far gone to parse. More training would be required to boost the endurance of his male-bitch, “I'll have to get some of the larger pack males to keep fucking you until you can last a rut without your eyes glazing over as training while I'm busy with more important things…" He mused idly. This Alpha would make a good plaything for the pack, and if it made him a better toy for his Master, then all the better. So long as he retained the authority to command them for Cyrus, then he didn't much care who knotted this whore.

His own orgasm finally arrived, and the defeated male beneath him closed his eyes and cried out his final submission, third climax cascading into fourth from the sheer gratitude of being able to accept his Master's superior Human essence. A warmth burst into his core, thick ropes of vulgar male seed pumped under his tail in a ruinously copious creampie. Claiming. Marking. His Master had blessed him with his scent, and Rok was so joyful for it that his mind whitened, body went limp, and his mind at last broke. The Alpha Lycanthrope fainted, defeated in full, and Cyrus withdrew his cock to view the mess leaking from his gaped undertail was a look of mild satisfaction.

“Pathetic. Passing out after only taking one load?" He harrumped, slapping his own still-hard maleness down next to the cute pink shaft of the ruined wolf. Cyrus was far from satisfied, and his plaything didn't have to be conscious for the man to enjoy him. He returned his cock to their gratefully twitching undertail and resheathed it into a sloppy mess of seed. It would be dawn by the time that he had finished, his stamina maintained through the enchantment of his magic ring, and his sexual potency replenished with the occasional potion. He'd stripped the silver band from the base of Rok's maleness after a while, simply to enjoy the sight of the male-bitch seeding himself over and over again, forcing a potency potion down their sleeping throat to recharge their impotent balls just so he could watch them unload once more.

There was movement around him, the effect of the Silversheen finally wearing off, and Cyrus pulled himself to his feet to join the gathering wolves in looking down at their former Alpha, a broken male completely covered in his own cum, his belly bloated with such a mess of superior Human essence that some of it had crawled up his magically cleaned insides to drool from his open-hanging maw. Cyrus gave a deep exhalation of satisfaction, taking the manacles from the defeated male and with the jostling of their flipped body bringing them to wakefulness.

“Hmph." He scoffed, “Your punishment for failing to last long enough to properly pleasure your Master is…" Cyrus tilted his head towards the gathering pack, “You. The one that laughed at the start of all this. You're going to take a seat right here, and after you've cleaned my cock, I want to hear more about the situation in your territory. I especially want to know if any islanders have spotted mainlander ships sailing by. The rest of you… I'm lending you my Slave-Wife for the morning. Fuck him until you're satisfied."

There was a roar of approval. Bound to the surrender of the defeated Alpha Lycanthrope and forced to watch them brought to ruin by their Master, in their hearts they had all submitted to this man. It was a big world outside the Seven Winged Archipelago, and Cyrus was well armed for having seen most of it. He'd refined himself as a Merchant and as a dominant male, and come home to conquer the Demon Lord's Domain. In his mind, the Pay-To-Win Hero had already bought this country. All that he had to do was make his final payments in person. Four more transactions awaited him…

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: It's not a new series, I promise! A little diversion that's a bit more shot-from-the-hip than usual. Just a five-part piece on the side. And I'm gonna keep to that tight limit, too. Well, maybe with an epilogue or a side-story or two if people want to see it. That's where I'd put something like Rok x Luk if some brotherly love was requested in the comments or something! I hope you enjoyed this – it was churned out in two sittings (the second being a bit of a rush as at time of writing it's around 4am in the UK and I have a trip to set off for tomorrow).

I had a lot of fun with this, and have high hopes for it landing! This series is intended to be pretty gratuitous in sexual content, with each story focusing on a new General (and then the Demon Lord), and our Pay2Win Hero defeating them with some contrived bullshit that he bought in advance! As for what each race/sex of each General is – that's down to what you ask for in the comments! I've had plenty of suggestions, and most of them have asked for males. At this point, I'm quite tempted to make the whole thing m/m rather than the usual mixing of m/m then m/f. I'd like to hear your suggestions not only for future conquests, but also for the contrived bullshit items that Cyrus uses to beat them! This first Evil General was the suggestion of NoNoNope!

Special thanks to Kougar, Berry2257, TheMemesWantMemes, NoNoNope, Etnom, CapitalC, Cyril Dran, and Samael028. Your comments, suggestions, and encouragement on the Journal piece asking for help is what compelled me to speed this out before I set off on my travels. Thanks for all of the help, and I hope you liked this piece. It's gonna be a very lewd notseries, and I'm counting on you for further ideas! Cheers in advance, you legends! I plan to get out one more of these, then alternate with Palworld until we're done. Probably. Don't hold me to that. There are gonna be five total, so I might just burn it all off in one go.

Have a most excellent day.