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[b][u][center]Soulbound Wagers

Chapter 2

For Damiekinz

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Asmund was just beginning to wonder if Targir was stretching the ‘break’ out further than the agreed-upon time when there was a knock at the door. The polar bear tilted his head to the side, not getting out of bed.

“Yeah?”

The great slab of wood tilted inward, and a gray-furred wolf male stepped inside. Smaller than Targir and the Underthane that Asmund had already conquered, the wolf was dressed in the same skimpy garb as the rest of the Overthane’s toys. Topless, barely dressed in nearly-sheer wraps that went around his hips and groin and did nothing to hide the shaft waiting below, he was a small male and a soft one. The sort of male that was better suited to keeping his ass up and his head down than anything else.

The only thing that put him off was the fact that the wolf had a similar nose-ring to his own. The reminder that he had been pierced, marked by the bigger wolf, bothered him, and he grumbled under his breath as the wolf stood with his hands behind his back.

“If it pleases you, Overthane Targir is waiting in the Pavilion for you,” the wolf said.

“Heh, your soon-to-be former Overthane, you mean.”

“Perhaps.”

“You think that he can beat me?”

“I believe that time is the only thing that can tell, Warlord. If you will follow me?”

Asmund grunted as he heaved himself out of bed. The wolf turned on his heel, walking back to the corridor, and the polar bear enjoyed the view of that lush silk disappearing between the wolf’s cheeks. One thing was for certain: he and Targir shared a similar appreciation for fine rumps.

He pulled his clothes back on and followed the wolf through the corridors of the palace. Every so often, he looked down, imagining how his cock would look between those cheeks when the Wagers were done. After all, once someone became Soulbound, they effectively lost everything that they owned to the person that defeated them. Asmund had won both money and sluts from other warriors, other lords, and Targir would be no different.

“Looking forward to seeing you moan around my dick,” Asmund muttered.

His guide said nothing. He chuckled; probably was already thinking about it. Most people did when they saw him.

He fondled himself beneath his garment as they walked on. They did not pass another living soul as they walked through the palace, and despite the eye-candy, Asmund wondered where the rest of Targir’s court was. They had to be here somewhere, but the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone but bodyguards and lovers since his arrival made him wonder what in the hell was going on.

Were they hidden? Were they ordered to stay out of the way to avoid complicating things? Or…

Or was Targir keeping them to the side to avoid anyone noticing if he lost?

Asmund chuckled under his breath. His guide paused, cocking his head to the side and looking over his shoulder.

“Something amusing?”

“Heh, something. Go on.”

Would make sense, he thought. After all, Targir wasn’t a warrior. He probably propped himself up with all this wealth and prestige and all that other crap. That meant that he had more of an image to protect.

Of course, that didn’t mean that Asmund didn’t have pride of his own, nor did it mean that the polar bear would just roll over for humiliation, but he knew that he could always drag himself back up to the peak once more. A trader, forced into humiliation and dragged through the mud? They would have a far harder time getting any respect back. And he couldn’t see Targir as anything but a merchant lord with all the wealthy displays around him.

[i]If you’re scared of showing off, then I’ll just have to make you…[/i]

He liked that idea. He liked that a lot.

They reached the garden and Pavilion once more, and the well-appointed silver-furred wolf was there to greet him. Targir sent his bitch-boy off with a nod of his head, and the pair of them were alone once more.

“Did you rest well?” Targir asked.

“Didn’t need it, but yeah.”

“I’m glad. I would hate for you to have to say that you were too tired to compete, after all.”

“Says the man that ain’t bothering to do it in front of an audience. I always did my Wagers in front of my men.”

“I hardly believe that’s necessary. It would spoil the game, after all; why have so many eyes on us when we can just enjoy ourselves playing this out?”

“You should be scared.”

“Hmmm, you aren’t the first to come by and try and take what’s mine. Now, shall we move on to the next Wager?”

“Yeah. Let’s get this started.”

“Of course. Your turn to pick the game, Warlord.”

“Then I pick arm-wrestling. Best of one, heh. If you think that you can handle me…”

Asmund flexed, his arms bulging out against the thick fur that ran down his limbs. The blue, diamond-patterned garment swelled around him as he shifted from one pose to another, flagrantly showing off just how big he was. And why not? He was a Warlord for a reason, powerful and strong, and he had gained the right to make these Wagers from his physical strength long before he reached his current status.

And yet, Targir didn’t seem so concerned. The wolf looked him up and down, tapped his chin, and nodded, even smiling ever so slightly.

“Well, I can’t say no to that.”

“Hmmph. You want to lose?”

“I think you’ll find that it’s not entirely about strength.”

“Heh, you want to lose. And I’m going to make my prize a good one. If I win, then you have to go naked. For a week.”

“Hmmm. Quite the display,” Targir muttered. “But I can agree to that. But if I win, then you’ll have to endure another piercing; nipple ones, this time, to show off just how fine that chest of yours is.”

“Heh, I won’t be losing.”

“We shall see.”

Targir gestured to one of the less-occupied tables, and they both pulled a seat to either side of it. Asmund shook his head at the wolf’s nonchalance toward the whole thing; it was almost as if he knew something that the bear didn’t.

[i]Impossible. This game ain’t about luck this time, ain’t about strategy. It’s just one arm against another.[/i]

And yet, there was something in the way that Targir carried himself, something about the way that he smiled and sat down and offered his arm that told the bear that there had to be something he’d missed. What, he didn’t know, but there was clearly [i]something.[/i]

Asmund sat down, clasped hands with the other male, and stared him dead in the eye. He squeezed, a slow smile growing on his lips as he felt a weaker squeeze in return. He kept tightening his grip until he saw a faint grimace of discomfort on the wolf’s muzzle, and only then did he loosen his grip.

[i]Heh…not as strong as me…[/i]

“You want to count, or should I?” Asmund asked.

“Your game. Your call.”

“Go.”

No count, just push. It brought him no small amount of pleasure to see Targir’s eyes widen at the first shove, though the polar bear was shocked when the wolf’s arm didn’t hit the table immediately. Targir grunted, huffing under his breath as he pushed back, managing to hold his arm at the halfway point.

“Heh…ain’t everyone that can stop me,” Asmund grunted.

“Hmmph…isn’t everyone…that starts so fast…”

“Just give it up. Ain’t gonna beat me.”

Though it was taking longer than he expected. Most anyone else would have had their hand hit the table already, but Targir was holding out. Huffing, puffing a bit, yeah, but holding out in a way that he hadn’t seen for a long time. Asmund adjusted his grip, giving up an inch or two of pressure but still keeping it more or less favoring him.

He pushed. He swiveled slightly. He tested the wolf’s strength, but despite the merchant-lord’s tastes, Asmund couldn’t push the arm back down again. Despite the little shivers running up and down the wolf’s arm, despite the slight outbreak of sweat on the Overthane’s face, he wasn’t giving in.

[i]Might be stronger than he looks, but he ain’t outlasting me.[/i]

So, Asmund kept the pressure on. He didn’t flex himself further, didn’t try and slam it down, but rather just…pushed and held The constant pressure had the wolf’s arm trembling ever so slightly while his was still quite still. Eventually, this would push the other male to break, and then, he’d be the winner.

[i]Ain’t gotta push too hard. Just wait…just wait…[/i]

Asmund held it for nearly a minute before Targir started to show a faint bit of concern on his face. The polar bear chuckled.

“Getting scared?”

“Mmmph…like I told you…it’s not just a matter of strength. There’s also…leverage.”

Shaking his head, Targir lifted his free hand. Asmund had just enough time to notice that there was far less tension down the other side of the wolf’s body before he snapped his fingers –

Click.

The bear’s nose was suddenly flooded by a potent strain of ball-musk, heavy and sweaty and just overwhelmingly masculine. The hot scent went right to his head, flooding through his skull and dragging him back in time –

[i]On his back in the snow, staring up at the snow leopard warrior that had beaten him in his early days. The strong male, his loincloth barely covering a dark, barbed shaft that was half-hard from the fight between them, not doing anything to hide the furred balls just underneath it. The sac hung low, filled and churning.

“Alright, you lost. Time for you to pay up.”

Asmund’s body moved on its own, lifting his head up from the cold and ice and pressing his dark nose against the spotted loincloth. He took in a breath from the compulsion of the Wager, and he smelled that manly scent.

That cock.

Those balls.

All that cum.

His shaft rose as he breathed it in again and again, the stained fur and leather hitting him with its own mix of scents, adding to the sexual, masculine scent. His eyes rolled back as he kept breathing it in, one enforced huff after another, the smell dragging his lust up and forcing him hard, harder, harder still –[/i]

Thunk.

Asmund blinked, the smell still hitting him as the memory faded away. He tilted his head, looking at his arm on the table. When…how…

“Leverage,” Targir said, shaking his head and rubbing at his wrist with his other hand. “Ow…”

“…How…”

The ring.

It was tingling, buzzing slightly in his nostrils. The whole thing had been a magical reminder, a blast of potent scent right up his nose from the ring itself. His last loss hadn’t been just to humiliate him; it had –

“You cheated!” he roared, lunging to his feet.

“If I had, the Wager would have been canceled out the instant I acted,” Targir said, shaking his head as he continued to massage his hand. “After all, you didn’t lay down any stipulations or rules about the game.”

“You –”

“And we both know what would happen if you decided to fight it…”

He gritted his teeth. The Wagers were sacrosanct, not merely culturally, but in the magic that allowed them to happen in the first place. If someone cheated on the agreed-upon rules, then the Wager was cancelled out immediately. If someone tried to harm someone else during a Wager – at least, in a way that the Wager didn’t allow – then they would be penalized, left as the loser even if they had been winning.

But that didn’t mean that he had to like the result.

“Now, come on. Off with the top; I want to see those nipples glinting with your new rings.”

Much as he would have wished to resist, the polar bear didn’t have an option. As the silver-furred wolf got to his feet, humming to himself as he walked over to one of the jewelry-covered tables, Asmund flipped his garment down, exposing his chest. Even in the warmer garden, it didn’t take long for the cold to make his nipples pop and expose themselves through the thick white fur that covered his chest.

He wanted to stay there. More, he wanted to make Targir come back, to force the Overthane to do all the work. However, the Wager wouldn’t allow that; he had lost, and that meant that he was compelled.

Gritting his teeth, he felt his body push itself back to its feet, and he endured the steady crunch-crunch of the isolated patches of snow between the warmer patches of grass under his feet. He walked around the other tables beneath the pavilion until he was behind his host. The urge to punch the lights out of the other male was almost overwhelming, but he managed to hold it back.

Barely.

Once Targir turned around, he held up two more rings, each one shimmering with the same golden hue as the one that hung from his nostrils. Remembering the tingling feeling as the first one had passed through his flesh, he braced himself as his body arched its back and presented his pecs to the other man.

“You are rather handsome, Asmund. A pity that most people don’t get to see you this way, heh. Perhaps you’re the one that’s losing on purpose.”

“Not even – nnngh…”

When the ring had pushed into his nose, it had been a bit itchy, more strange than anything, but this was more…sensual. There was a strange tugging-twisting sensation as it pushed into his flesh, sliding through and making his nipple stand out that much more. He managed to keep from grunting too loudly as he looked up and away, finding it almost…pleasurable, which was something that he never would have wanted to admit.

The other ring followed, slowly pushing past his flesh and sinking into his nipple. It brought the same tugging-twisting-pleasurable feeling as the first, and his cock twitched ever so slightly beneath the lower flap of his garment. He endured it, shaking his head and huffing as it finally came to an end.

“Mmm, much better if I do say so myself,” Targir said. “And I do.”

Asmund looked down at his chest. The sight of his nipples thrust forward was strange enough, but more strange was the way that it made his chest…different. It was barely a shift at all, merely making his nipples stand out through the fur, but it was like that little bit of jewelry changed his muscular pecs into something else. Rather than feeling like he was displaying muscles so powerful that they could have been armor, he felt as if he was displaying himself like a piece of meat.

The glinting gold didn’t make it better, either. As valuable as the rings looked, he felt like they were a decoration for some owned bit of eye-candy rather than something that he could take pride in. He shook his head, fighting a blush.

“I feel like a courtesan.”

“Would you know how that felt?” Targir asked, cocking his head to the side.

“…No.”

“Heh. Perhaps you will, if we keep this up.”

“Oh, we will. But I’m not the one that’s going to lose.”

“We will see. Now –”

“No breaks.”

Targir blinked, arching an eyebrow. The polar bear thumped his palm against one of the tables.

“I’m not one of those merchants that you’ve tricked before. I ain’t leaving this place without you Soulbound to me. You think that I’m going to fall for that trick, huh? Waiting in that room and wondering if I should just cut my losses and run?”

“…Hmmm. Fascinating.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Clearly.”

“So, we’re doing the next game. Next Wager. Right now.”

“Well, if you insist, then you insist,” Targir said, shrugging as if he was helpless but to go along with it, yet he never lost that smile. “Alright. Fine. We’ll move on to the next game, but this time, it’s my choice.”

“Fine. Pick your challenge.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’re familiar with Diamonds and Daggers?”

“Heh, that old tavern game.”

“Indeed. Then that shortens things, doesn’t it?”

It was a game that was most often played in taverns, though there were other versions that were carried along by soldiers and warriors on campaigns away from home. Usually, it was played with cards, the games short and to the point so that many of them could be played in an evening, or – in the case of the soldiers playing it – something that could be finished quickly before moving on to something more important.

Asmund had played it enough to know how it worked, and while it had more luck to it than the other games that he might have picked, there was still enough strategy that he felt he could win.

Not that he could back down, of course. Not now. Not when he’d just made it clear that he’d never leave this place without taking Targir with him.

“Fine. I’ll play the game. But I got a few of those stipulations for you this time.”

“Heh, alright. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but a game’s a game. No nose-ring play?”

“No ring play [i]at all.[/i]” He flicked one of the nipple piercings. “I ain’t a mage, but I’d bet money that you just slapped another bit of fuckery on me with these things. This time, you’re gonna play [i]fair.[/i]”

“What is fairness but adherence to the rules?”

“Yeah, well, one of the rules this time is no rings. Got me?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

“Yeah. I deal.”

“Hmm. Fine. Agreed.”

There was just enough annoyance there that he felt justified in making that second demand. He might have been more concerned about the rings, but he knew better than to trust a merchant with a deck of cards. The number of sleight of hand tricks that could be done with a deck of Diamonds and Daggers was beyond count. The Wager might be enough to keep it from happening, but he wasn’t going to chance it. Not this time.

“Hmmm, now, what shall I Wager?” Targir muttered, looking him up and down. “I think a tail ring. Something to keep the set going.”

“Hmmph. You got something planned for the full set?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps you’re just being paranoid.”

“Fine. Then for mine…If I win, then you gotta kiss my ass. No, not just kiss it; I want you to make out with my ass, worship it, in front of your whole damn court.”

“…Certainly an escalation there.”

“Heh. Unless you want to risk the whole thing now, and bet your soul?”

“Hmmm, not yet, not yet. But agreed. Let’s start this game.”

Once again, they sat down, and once again, the Wager began. Asmund took the deck, shuffled it, and dealt out the cards.

All in all, the game was simple. There were four cards in total. Diamonds, which gave you points with each hand. Daggers, which shattered Diamonds and took away points. Thieves, which stole diamonds from other players. Merchants, which converted one to the other. The idea was to get as many points as possible and keep the opponent from getting as many as you, while defending yourself or ‘attacking’ others as best you could.

And Asmund? Asmund favored a very aggressive strategy with the game.

It didn’t take long for him to start using Merchants to swap his hands around, converting most of his Diamonds into Daggers. He used a strategy that continued to use Dagger cards to kill thieves, keeping his own safe, and despite the many attempts Targir made to turn the game around, it was clear that Asmund was going to win.

The polar bear let the game go longer than it should, smiling the whole time as his points soared higher and higher and Targir’s remained nearly stagnant. Within ten minutes, the game was over, and Asmund laughed.

“Look at that. I win.”

“I have never seen a strategy like that. Perhaps I should have expected something so…brutal…from someone like you.”

“Heh, war’s everywhere. Should have known that, merchant.”

“I certainly will remember this one…”

“Well.” Asmund gathered the cards and put them away before standing up. “Let’s get this started.”

“Yes…the forfeit.”

“You, me, and your throne room. Now.”

#

It was a glorious feeling to have an audience again as he stepped into the throne room. It was still smaller than some of the courts that he had seen before, but at least there were attendants and other officials now. Wolves of various species were gathered in the great chairs that loomed over the main part of the throne room, and they were all well-dressed, reflecting the wealth of Targir’s territories.

[i]They’re going to have to deal with much less when I’m in charge.[/i]

He nudged the wolf.

“Tell them.”

“My Underthanes, and other members of my court,” Targir said, immediately leaping into some grand speech that sounded almost practiced. “I’m afraid in our game of Wagers, this Warlord has bested me for a round. And, as such, I must perform for him in front of all of you. I apologize for failing you, but at least the task falls to me and not to any of you. For am I not Overthane, caring for the pack?”

“Yeah, yeah, get this over with,” Asmund muttered. “Tell ‘em what you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Yes, yes,” Targir said, waving dismissively. “Our guest demanded in his Wager that I worship his ass for an audience, and that is what I am about to do. Please, pay attention so I may fulfill my task.”

[i]Fuck, he sounds almost eager…[/i]

That wasn’t how this was supposed to go, and Asmund could already feel the vague sense of triumph from the game table fading away as the silver-furred wolf moved behind him. He crossed his arms, trying to find his usual smirk for getting this kind of treatment, but the way that the wolf held his cheeks, the way that the court turned to look with a smile, it was harder than usual. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been conned, played somehow, and that rankled at him.

The flap that covered his rump was flicked out of the way, and just like that, he felt the warm breath of someone sniffing and huffing around his rump. He knew that it was clean back there, save for perhaps a bit of sweat, yet the wolf was huffing and sniffing away, dragging his cool nose against the curve of the polar bear’s ass cheeks, then higher and against the slight gap between them.

Fingers dug into his ass, pulling at them, spreading them. Asmund grunted, chuckling as he felt that nose push between them and drag against the flesh by his hole.

“Yeah…get in there…”

He barely had to say it; Targir was already shoving his nose in deep, grinding his tongue along the bear’s taint and working it further and further back until it was right against his rim, and –

“Mmmm…”

It was a damn good tongue, he had to give the wolf that. There was something intense about it, something more than just compelled, but [i]willingly[/i] depraved back there. Each lick was followed by a deep huff, and he realized –

[i]You’ve done this before…you do this for your bitches…[/i]

And he was good at it. Asmund managed to hold back a few huffs and grunts at first, but within the first twenty seconds, he could feel his cock rising up, pushing against the front flap of his garment. He crossed his arms under his pierced nipples, trying to keep from making too many sounds, but it was almost impossible. Soft huffs and grunts kept building up in his throat as that tongue kept flicking up and down along his rim, grinding against his pucker and almost sliding in more than once, and –

And the way that the wolf held onto his cheeks, squeezing them, holding them spread wide as he jammed his muzzle between them was more than he had expected. It wasn’t just worship, it was almost like Targir was devouring his hole. Barely half a minute in, and the bear was sporting a hard-on that was bobbing up and down from it, and he growled under his breath –

The soft thrust of that tongue inside of him got a whimper. He gasped, his eyes going wide as he whimpered from pure pleasure as it worked its way into him. Pre-cum started dripping from his cock, a little reminder of how he’d been holding back rather than getting the relief he wanted, and –

And all those eyes. All those eyes on him, on his bobbing dick, on the way that their Overthane was eating his ass and getting him to gasp and moan. They knew. They knew what was going on, and they were enjoying his humiliation.

“Bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

So much for humiliating the wolf with this. The merchant craved ass as much as Asmund did, and he was just as good at appreciating it.

[i]Mmmph…gonna need to make you mine even more…if you’re this fucking good at eating ass…[/i]

The only good thing was that he managed to resist the pressure to push back, to grind his ass against the wolf’s face and tongue like some overwhelmed bitch. He growled, grabbing hold of Targir’s head, trying to hold on to some sense of power and control that was rapidly fading from him.

Thrust.

Lick.

Lap.

It was getting so wet back there, so…intense, and his cock was as hard as it could get. He growled under his breath, his cheeks burning with the desperation to keep the whimpers and whines from getting free. One had been bad enough, and the court had clearly noticed it, and –

Targir pressed his lips fully to the bear’s hole and sucked. The feeling of pulling, the gentle pressure of that sucking kiss on his hole, nearly made him cum right then and there. Asmund barely held back, gritting his teeth and huffing under his breath.

The minute was up. He let go, and Targir got to his feet, humming with no small amount of amusement on his face.

“Well? Was that to your satisfaction?” the wolf asked.

“…”

“I’ll take that as a most happy yes,” Targir said, nodding. “And my court, thank you for your time. You may be dismissed for now, though please be aware that you may be summoned back. Our guest may desire another chance to put on a show.”

Oh, he wanted to break this bastard now. Targir had been smug from the start, but this was something far beyond smug. This was someone that was putting on a show and had no fear of losing.

Asmund had never met an opponent that was quite this sure of himself, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He was used to fear, used to a bit of confidence that had been shaken by the time that they got to Wagers, but this endless confidence baffled him. It was as if he had found someone that literally had no fear.

[i]I have to find a way to break him,[/i] he thought. [i]I have to find a way around that, or he’s going to have an advantage.[/i]

Despite everything, he still believed he could win. Not as easily, but he could. He just had to find some weakness that the other male had.

As the court filed out, Targir turned with a small smile. No longer as obviously smug, but still, fairly. He cocked his head to the side.

“Shall we move on to the next game?” he asked.

“…In a minute,” Asmund muttered. “I have to…collect myself.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. I [i]am[/i] quite talented with my tongue, after all.”

Asshole.

As Targir summoned another member of his little harem to take Asmund back to private quarters, the bear ruminated on what sort of challenge he could pull together next. He had to remember every trick that the wolf could pull, had to make sure that he didn’t make a mistake. For all that he had been looking down on the wolf, for all that he believed that the merchant was soft and weak, he had to take him seriously. In war, he would have won with ease; in Wagers, he was more vulnerable.

He followed the bare-assed wolf toward the private quarters, waiting for his dick to go down. That, too, was something that he’d need to pay attention to; the nose-ring and the nipple rings were likely traps, meant to keep him from thinking clearly during the next few challenges, but that was something that he had neutralized. So long as he didn’t lose any further Wagers that could add more rings to his body, he [i]should[/i] be okay.

Should.

Asmund grunted as he stepped into his room, the door shutting behind him. The fact that ‘should’ was the best he could hope for bothered him. He was a Warlord, a powerful bear of the ice. ‘Should’ was too weak for someone like him.

And yet, at the same time, it felt right. He only ‘should’ be okay. Not would. Should.

“…Bastard-ass wolf…”

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Asmund continues the Wager game with Targir, with rather different circumstances.

Tags: M/M, Musk, Polar Bear, Wolf, Audience, Exhibitionism, Rimming, Ass Worship, Groping, Erection, Embarrassed, Snow Leopard, Ball Musk, Series,