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The tent was stuffy and humid, but it was much preferable to the wolf than outside; outside was still smoky, the stink of charred wood and blood still hanging heavily in the air. In here, he could distract himself with examining the sparse furnishings; the course furs on the floor that rubbed against his knees, the banners of the Leonine army--his teeth set on edge as a growl rumbled in his throat--hanging on the tent walls, and further back the low table and large, unkempt bed. He didn't have to look at the bodies of the slain, nor the broken walls of the town and broken spirits of the conquered townsfolk.

He'd heard that Leone was sending sorties along the borders of their nation--rumblings from other countries always reached the towns on the outskirts of Lupinine first--but no one had thought the damned cats would actually invade; not only invade, but send such a large army to do so. Their defenses had been completely unprepared, and the Leonine had engulfed their town like a raging tide.

And so there sat Jack Orlean, soldier and guardsman of the town of Wolveshire, bound and stripped and humiliated deep in the Leonine camp; both his armor and clothing had been torn off by the rowdy, battle-drunk felines right in the middle of town square as the frightened eyes of the townspeople looked on. His arms had been bound before him with tight coils of thick rope as he snarled and growled. He'd been dragged out through the shattered gates and into the heart of the enemy encampment, and then thrown into this tent to await his fate.

The tent flap was pulled aside, and Jack flinched as a clanking, looming, armored presence made its way in to join him. His ears pulled flat against his skull as the Leonine commander himself towered over him, staring down at the wolf with barely-concealed contempt. They had met on the battlefield--crossed swords with each other as the Leonine army surged through the walls and the Lupinine guardsmen had valiantly fought to hold the enemy back--but now the lion was the victor, and Jack was armorless, weaponless, and shamed in his utter defeat.

"So that's what you look like under your armor, hm?" A gauntleted hand grabbed Jack by the chin, turning his head this way and that as the commander gazed down at the lithe, nude wolf with burning eyes. The examination continued as one booted foot roughly pushed at the lion's knee, spreading Jack's legs open and baring the plump, sweaty sheath settled between the Lupinine's thighs. Again Jack felt a growl rumble in his chest, but kept his own gaze downcast as his cheeks burned. "Hm. Adequate." The wolf's heart leapt into his throat at the sound of steel being drawn, and his eyes clenched shut as he waited for the hot, stinging line across his throat.

When he felt the ropes binding his wrist being cut instead, he finally looked up at the lion. "Wha-?"

"Don't mistake this for mercy." That hand closed around his throat, pulling upward, and Jack was forced to rise up to his feet to keep from being strangled by the lion's crushing grip. "I have broken your defenses and have taken your town for the glory Leone. It is my right to take whatever spoils of war I wish."

Jack hacked and coughed, struggling as the Leonine commander brought his face in close to the wolf's. Hot breath washed over the wolf's face as the lion forced Jack to meet his eyes.

"You impressed me with your skills on the battlefield, dog. You will pledge yourself to my service and become my attendant. Any and every order I give you, you will obey without question or complaint."

The wolf was finally able to force a few words through the Leonine commander's grasp around his throat. "And if I refuse?"

A cruel smirk spread across the lion's muzzle. "You will not." The words were said with such ironclad conviction--more a statement of ultimate, undeniable truth than a command--that Jack found himself believing them for a moment.

The wolf scowled. Snarled. Every muscle in his body tensed and flexed. He could slam his fist into the lion's face, maybe make a grab for the knife still in the other male's paw and drive it to the hilt into the bastard's throat. He could kill the Leonine commander right then and there--and then what? His jaw clenched. The town was still occupied, the rest of the guardsmen were probably being subjected to the same humiliation he was--or worse--and the entire rest of the Leonine camp lay between him and whatever freedom he could hope for. His clenched fists loosened and fell to the wolf's sides.

The Leonine commander seemed able to see the cogs working behind Jack's eyes as the wolf realized the hopelessness of his situation. The lion's smirk widened, and he released Jack's throat to give the canine a mocking pat on the cheek. "You are mine, dog. And you will know your place at my heel." Again completely sure of his words, he turned his back on Jack. His armor clanked as he made his way to the back of the tent, sheathing his dagger and then undoing the belt that held both it and his sword around his waist. Once both weapons were laid out on the low table, the feline turned around once more; when he saw Jack still standing there, helpless as the wolf shifted from foot to foot, the lion let out a low laugh. "Good boy."

Again, Jack growled. Again, his muscles tensed at the lion's approach. Again, he remained frozen in place with his gaze lowered to the floor.

The Leonine commander snapped his fingers under Jack's nose. "Don't just stand there, dog. I've need of your services, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to demonstrate your abilities." The lion drew himself up, towering over the canine while holding his arms out and widening his stance. "You will undress me, and then you will bathe me."

Even as his teeth remained set on edge, the wolf could do nothing but let his hands perform the familiar work for the conquering Leonine. "Yes, sir..." He set his mind to his task, pushing all of his thoughts down into the depths. Pull off the gauntlets. Unstrap the pauldrons and greaves. Faulds and cuisses, and then finally the heavy, solid cuirass.

As he undressed the other male, one fact made itself abundantly clear to the wolf; the Leonine commander was filthy. Thick layers of old, sour sweat and grime coated the lining of the commander's armor, and his undershirt and loin wrap were rank and heavily stained. The lion could see the expression on Jack's face--the clenching of his jaw and eyes as the heady raunch curled into the wolf's sensitive nose--and laughed. "It's been months of marching and battles, dog. I haven't had time for proper bath in quite a while." His eyes lit up and the smirk on his face widened as though he'd been struck with a delightful idea. "Why don't you give my armor a good wash, dog? It could certainly use it."

"Yes, sir." Jack felt a sigh of relief gather in his breast--but kept it held away for the time being--at the prospect of getting away from the stinking male. He wasn't exactly a stranger to the scents of a male's body--the funk would often hang in the barracks after a long day of training, and every wolf in the town guard quickly familiar with each others' smell--but the Leonine was practically fetid with filth old and new. However, that relief quickly curdled as he looked around and saw no convenient water bucket or cloth with which to perform his task. "Outside, or-?" The wolf was cut off by the lion's heavy paw cuffing him upside the head.

"If you're going to be a good servant, you need to learn to do things the Leonine way."

Jack's heart dropped into the pit of his roiling stomach. "You mean...?"

The lion's answering grin was merciless. "Start licking."

The wolf let out a deep groan--he didn't whimper, no matter how much he wanted to at the prospect of tasting the lion's grime--and fell to his knees. A million words--both pleas for mercy and curses for the lion and all of Leone--gathered in his throat and then were gulped back down. He lifted the commander's breastplate, turned it to look over the heavily-stained padding, and with one last gulp lowered himself down to begin lapping at the multilayered gunk.

The flavor of sweat, sour-salty and left to stew against the lion's body, tingled and burned on Jack's reluctantly-working tongue. The rank, cloying stink of body odor from days--weeks? Months?--without the touch of water or soap curled into the canine's nose, and Jack gagged. Still, under the Leonine commander's watching gaze, he licked at the crusty filth until it was wet enough with his saliva to lap up and then swallow down. He felt sick, nauseous, disgusted with himself and the lion forcing him to perform this task, but still he spit-shined the inner lining of the Leonine commander's armor. And when the other male stripped his underclothing off--pulled his undershirt off over his head and then unwound his loin wrap from around his hips and between his thighs--and tossed each article in the wolf's face, Jack set to cleaning them too. Both the taste and the smell grew stronger as the wolf licked each piece clean; the lion's shirt was practically soaked with his sweat, enough so that Jack was able to suck the salty liquid right out of the fabric, and the acrid, fishy stench of the loin wrap made the wolf heave.

Finally, the Leonine commander seemed satisfied with the wolf's work. He kicked his boots off--when Jack got a whiff of the rank stink wafting from within, he was grateful that the lion wasn't ordering him to stick his snout down into them as well--and stepped forward to loom over the wolf. "Good. Now it's time for your next task. Bathe me, dog."

Jack gulped, scraping his tongue against his teeth to get the taste of the lion's filth off of it. "You mean... lick your body?" He looked up at the feline--at the other male's nudity--with a flush on his face. He was used to seeing naked males--one could always count on getting an eyeful from time to time in the guard barracks--but the thought of putting his snout against the lion's bared body was far too much for him. His ears flattened against his skull and his tail tucked up between his legs as his eyes roamed over the Leonine commander--over the tall male's flexing, bouncing chest, tensed biceps and legs, and the heavy ballsack and plump sheath between the feline's thighs--and then dropped to the floor.

"You've got the idea." Jack could feel the smirk from the other male as the lion lifted a hindpaw to the wolf's face. The pungent scent stung the canine's nose--it seemed that Jack would have to breathe in the stink of the lion's sweaty pawpads after all--as the Leonine commander wriggled his toes. "Come on, I don't have all day. Get your tongue on my paws or I'll cut it out of your skull."

No matter how much he didn't want to, the wolf had no choice. He grasped the lion's ankle, holding it up, and then moved forward to press his muzzle to the sole before him. His nose ground against it as he took deep breaths of the scent of sweat and grime wafting from between the pawpads and toes; if he filled his lungs with it sooner rather than later, perhaps he'd come to be able to ignore it. However, that line of thinking quickly proved dangerous; the first inhalation made Jack's mind reel, and another breath made him cough and gag as the raunchy scent of dirty, unwashed hindpaw settled heavily into his lungs. The first touch of his tongue against the sweat-soaked pads made the slick muscle feel like it would curl up and fall right out of his mouth; the wolf almost welcomed the thought of having the soiled flesh cut out of him.

His tongue traced around each of the lion's pawpads, digging into the rank pits between each one, and then swiped over the calloused flesh. When he began to dig into the clefts between each of the Leonine's toes, Jack had to put all his focus into not retching and heaving at the taste there. And just when the wolf thought he was done, the commander lifted his other paw to grind its stench into the canine's twitching, sensitive nose.

Once both of his hindpaws had been licked clean, the lion grasped the wolf by the ears and tugged the groaning male upward. Jack's tongue swiped over the Leonine commander's ankles, his shins, his knees. Higher and higher, the smell only growing raunchier as Jack was forced to bring his face up towards the other male's crotch. That full, plump ballsack and thick, greasy sheath hung in his vision as the feline grabbed the canine's head in both paws to hold him in place. Jack had seen plenty of sheaths in the barracks and baths; the malehoods of his fellow guards. He'd caught the faint, spicy scent of their masculinity in the air. But having his face forcefully held near another male's package, seeing the swell of their gonads and the pulse of their sheath as the flesh within shifted from up close, was a raw and overpowering intimacy that Jack was completely unprepared for. His breathing quickened as tremors shot up and down his spine. "Please..."

"Please what, dog? You haven't finished giving me my bath."

This time, Jack did whimper, and the sound of his own weakness made his ears pull back further as a massive boulder of shame dropped into his gut. "Stop... don't make me-"

The lion's grip tightened on Jack's head as the feline forced the canine's snout into the crook of his thigh. Now that hot, pulsing, rancid-smelling flesh was grinding against his nose and lips. He could smell and taste the fishy, acrid, built-up filth coating the lion's malehood. "You have been given an order, dog. You will obey that order. Do you understand?"

A low whine escaped the wolf's slack lips as the last of his pride shattered.

"Lick!"

And Jack did. The canine had to force his wriggling oral muscle into the matted fur of the other male's thighs. Sweat, dried into thick clumps of grimy brine and mixed with the smut from the lion' cock, deeply stained the thick fur there, and Jack had to work hard to lap it up. Filthy. Disgusting. Sick. Jack's stomach roiled and heaved as he was forced to swallow every rancid clump that smeared across his tongue while breathing in the lion's raunch. The feline, meanwhile, made a game of keeping the wolf's head in place, pushing at it when he grew too close to the Leonine's malehood and then digging his claws into Jack's neck and nape when the Lupininie tried to pull away too early; a pulse of twisted, reluctant gratitude shot through Jack's mind as the lion's paws batted his snout away any time his tongue edged too close to the commander's steaming, stinking package.

Finally the feline seemed satisfied, and Jack was allowed to draw his muzzle out of the crook of the commander's thigh. He panted and whimpered as his mind swam and reeled, and he stared with hazy eyes at the lion's crotch. Sheath. Balls. Just like the ones that hung and swung between his fellow guards' thighs, catching his attention--his faint curiosity--every now and then. Jack had never been with a woman, and had only ever briefly and occasionally thought about males. And now, the closest he had ever been to another was with the damned Leonine.

Another whine caught in his throat as the lion's package grew larger before his eyes. No, it was growing closer. No, he was leaning in closer to it? Just before the opening of the lion's pouch--thickly crusted with flecks of yellow-white filth--brushed against his nose, the wolf felt a sharp tug on his ears and let out a pained yelp. "Not yet, dog. You've yet to finish washing the rest of me. Stand."

And with another whimper of gratitude, Jack did. His legs shook, and he collapsed against the other male. Their bodies pressed against each other, and Jack could feel the strength in every one of the Leonine's flexing muscles; the same strength he'd felt as they'd crossed blades on the battlefield. The lion's rich, spicy, masculine scent curled into the wolf's nose and filled his lungs. The other male's flavor tingled on the canine's tongue, ready to be renewed again and again and again. It was a sick, twisted parody of intimacy, but one that soothed Jack's trembling nonetheless.

A low chuckle in his flicking ear. A pawpad tracing up and down the plumped-up, firming length of the wolf's own sheath--and around the wet, throbbing, sensitive tip already sliding free--before flicking against it and making Jack hiss and clench his teeth. A hand pressing against his back to push the wolf all the more firmly against the lion's sweat-soaked body. "It seems you enjoy being a bathing rag, dog." Jack tried to protest, but was silenced by an iron-hard grip around his muzzle. "You are a filthy, stench-loving dog. You love to breathe in Master's scent and lap the sweat and grime off every inch of his body." Again, the words came out as an undeniable statement of truth.

In the face of such conviction, Jack could only mutter out a muffled, "Yes."

The Leonine commander's grip tightened around the canine's snout as his eyes flashed. "'Yes', what?"

"Yes... Master."

"Good boy." The grip around his muzzle finally loosened, and then the wolf's aching, sore, smut-smeared face was ground into the firm rise of the lion's chest. Here the stench of old, sour sweat was still strong, but it was a welcome reprieve from the rank, cloying reek of the feline's--of Master's--malehood. "Breathe it in, Dog. Enjoy your Master's scent to your heart's content. But don't forget your duty." A mockingly-tender scratch behind the canine's ear made his eyes flutter as he traced the outline of one plump, round pectoral and then the other with his nose and lips. "Once you're done bathing me, I've other uses for you." A hand returned to grasp the canine's own malehood, giving it a rough squeeze, and the wolf couldn't stop his hips from rocking into the other male's touch.

Jack--Dog--wasted no more time. His hands moved to the lion's sides, stroking up and down--feeling the clenching and relaxing muscles of the lion's abs and obliques--while tracing his tongue along the path his lips had forged. Around the outline of each pec, into the sweaty valley between, and then over the pillowy flesh and course fur. A hiss of pleasure escaped Master's lips as his tongue brushed against the firm nub of a nipple, and Dog began to focus his attention on that spot. He lapped around and then over the nub, and then pressed his lips to it to kiss and suckle the flesh. That sick, twisted parody of intimacy flared between servant and master once more as Dog raised his eyes to meet Master's cold, amused gaze.

And then Dog slid his way downward, dragging his tongue through the sweaty fur of Master's stomach. As he lapped over and between every ridge of the lion's musculature, his hands moved up to caress the feline's chest. Feeling the flexing, bulging pectorals, and then moving to grip the stone boulders the feline had for biceps; evidence of long training and care for the Leonine commander's body, and yet more proof of the lion's strength. Master let out an amused chuckle, seeming content to flex and flaunt himself for the whimpering male servicing--worshipping--him. "Feels good, yes? Your Master's body feels so good on your paws and tongue."

"Yes, Master." Dog had to force his wriggling, working tongue into the dank hollow of Master's navel--the sharp flavor was a harsh reminder of the task he was performing--to lick the gathered lint and smut and sweat out of it.

"You love feeling Master's muscles, Dog. Master's strong and powerful, and you are weak and pathetic."

"Yes, Master." Dog lapped his way up one side of the lion's torso and then the other, stopping short of and shying away from the rancid stench wafting from under Master's arms.

A cruel chuckle. A grip around his ears, yanking Dog upwards. A flashed smirk from Master as he held Dog's head in his grip and lifted his free arm to bare his rank, stinking armpit. "Flattery won't get you out of doing your duty." The canine's snout was then forced under the lion's arm, pushing into the visible clumps of sweat and grime that matted the thick tufts fur there.

Dog--Jack--struggled. He whimpered and whined, trying in vain to pull himself back from the dank, reeking pit. The blast of hot stink filling his nose and lungs made him retch as his mind swam once more, and the wolf had to clutch at the lion's sides; not in intimacy, but just to keep himself from collapsing into a boneless, insensate heap at the Leonine commander's feet. He hardly recognized his own voice as he begged to be set free from his fetid prison. "Stop! I-I can't-!"

"You will." The paw against the back of his head ground Jack's nose into the sweat-and-smut-soaked fur. The canine could feel the lion's filth smearing on his muzzle, staining it with the feline's stench. Never again would his lips be clean, and never again would he smell fresh air; the raunch of the Leonine commander's body was engraved in his senses and in his mind. "Lick!"

Jack--Dog--whined as his tongue moved to obey Master's command. It dug into the thick clumps of hair, lapping over the strands and cleaning away the gathered gunk. The grainy salt of perspiration old and new ground into the wriggling muscle and burned a path down his throat into his roiling stomach. He was held in place, trapped and helpless, while Master's filth filled him.

He could feel strands of fur catching on his tongue, coming off to gather on it in a choking buildup of sticky hair. However, when Dog turned his head to spit them out, he found his muzzle clamped shut in another iron grip. "What's the matter, Dog?"

"I-I need to..." He choked as the fur caught in his mouth tickled the opening of his throat, and looked to the Leonine commander with pleading eyes.

However, whatever sympathy he hoped to find was completely absent in Master's cold expression. "You aren't thinking of rejecting Master's gift, are you?" Dog whimpered as Master's grip on his jaw tightened. "Swallow."

Dog tried to follow Master's order, he really did. With a whine catching in his throat, he gulped and scraped his tongue against his teeth to gather the clump of sweaty, grime-filled fur into a mass that could be swallowed. It caught in his gullet, however, making the canine heave and gasp as he tried desperately to choke it down. All the while, he was forced to look right into the lion's own steely eyes.

A sigh. "Open, Dog." The feline's pawpads pressed against the hinge of Dog's jaw, forcing the canine's mouth open. The wolf could only gag, watching in confusion--and then growing horror--as Master snorted and hocked a fat, thick, slick globule of phlegm into his open mouth. It tasted vile and sent a shudder of revulsion down Dog's spine, but allowed him the lubrication he needed to swallow down the hairball caught in his craw.

And still Dog wasn't finished. He was forced into the lion's other armpit, repeating the entire process of filling his lungs and stomach with Master's stench and filth all over again. He was forced to kiss the lion's biceps, words of praise for the feline's large, firm muscles being coaxed out as he licked along the entire length of each arm from shoulder to fingertip. He was forced to lap along the crook of the lion's neck, face flushing hot at the intimacy of the act as their cheeks brushed together, and was even made to lick and suck the sweat out of Master's thick mane. All the while he heard Master's purrs of pleasure and laughs of cruel delight at every gag and whimper and whine from the wolf.

Finally, Dog was forced back to his knees; the bottom of his stomach fell out in despair as the last bit he hadn't washed--Master's sweaty, stinking, smegma-crusted sheath and balls--hovered before him. Rank. Cloying. Reeking. His vision swam and his gut roiled nauseously at the thought of breathing in the scent and tasting the flavor of the lion's filthy malehood. He watched, ears pulled back and tail tucked tight between his legs, as Master reached down to pinch and squeeze the plump, fleshy tube between his pawpads. As the feline rolled his sheath down to expose the tip of his hidden cock, Dog flinched and nearly blacked out at the waft of renewed raunch that was released; acrid and sour, with a sharp, fishy undertone that made Dog heave. The canine retched at the sight before him; thick flecks of white smut clung to the angry-red flesh, coating the tip of the lion's length and caught in the forest of barbs that crowned the head.

He yelped and reeled back, earning a rough yank on his ear to keep him in place, when a spurt of dark-yellow liquid shot out across his muzzle.

"Don't complain. I told you that I have other uses for you." The lion aimed his cock downward, and another jet of hot, rancid piss soaked the fur on Dog's chest. "You will relieve me in every way, Dog, and you will thank me for the honor. When my bladder is full, you will drink. When my body is fouled, you will bathe me. And when I need to blow off steam, you will be my eager receptacle." He grinned, wide and devilish, and aimed even lower; the splash of urine, warm and wet and smelling thickly of the lion's masculinity, made Dog's cheeks burn with a blush of mingled embarrassment and reluctant pleasure at the sensation. "You are mine, Dog. My slave. My property." A low chuckle. "Don't you dogs mark your property like this?"

Dog stammered. True, wolves like him occasionally gave in to those ancient, feral instincts, and more than once he'd seen a new recruit flogged for leaving a puddle of piss near his bunk. He bit his tongue and just nodded in answer to the Leonine commander's question.

A heavy paw cuffed the side of his head. "When Master asks you something, you give him an answer, Dog. You don't just wag your head and stare like a drooling idiot. Do you piss all over your things like the disgusting beast you are?"

"Yes, Master." Dog whined as his gaze dropped between his splayed legs in shame.

"Good boy." An almost-tender pat on the crown of the wolf's head accompanied a wide smirk from the lion and another stream piss on the canine's crotch; Dog's cheeks grew all the hotter as the warmth sent another pulse through his sheath, and a few more inches of his own cock slid out. "Now, open up so the rest can go down your gullet."

Dog shivered. He whimpered. He clenched his eyes shut and opened his mouth wide. And when the flow of bitter, briny urine struck his tongue and began to flood his maw, he retched and choked and forced himself to swallow it. The acrid flavor burned away the memory of the lion's pawpads and thighs and armpits in favor of the rank taste of feline piss. It was all he could do to gulp the liquid waste down as the deluge continued.

He could feel the paw atop his head holding him in place; no, pulling him in closer to the lion's crotch. His every breath grew tainted with the pungency of the feline's musk, the smell growing stronger and stronger until he choked and sent a splash of urine down his chin and chest. Finally he felt the firm tip of Master's cock press against his tongue, adding the flavor of sharp, acrid smegma to the brine coating the wriggling muscle. Dog began to lick at the cocktip and sheath opening with tentative reticence, feeling the hardened gunk crusting both flecking off to join the slowing stream being gulped down to settle in his belly.

The canine held the dirty pouch between his lips, suckling down the last few trickling spurts of Master's waste. He could taste the fresh filth underneath the dried, flaking layers falling onto his working tongue; the slimy gunk that stained his tongue and burned his nostrils with its putrid flavor. He pulled back--was allowed to pull back--only to have the Leonine commander's grip tighten around his head and shove him into the crook of the lion's thigh once more. This time, Dog wasn't batted away from the feline's malehood; his nose was ground into the loose, sweat-soaked sack of Master's balls and across the greasy length of his sheath. His tongue followed, lapping across each heavy testicle and grinding into the base of the other male's package. Then up and down and around the pungent-smelling pouch, and over the crusty, slimy opening. He was even forced to suck the grime out of the matted clumps of Master's pubic fur; and this time when the hair coated his tongue in a thick, choking layer, he gulped it down without any complaint.

As Dog bathed Master's crotch, the girthy length of the lion's cock pushed out of his sheath. As it slid free, it dropped hot, steaming globs of smut onto the wolf's snout and into his mouth with every pulse and twitch. And as the filth-coated shaft throbbed to full erection, looming like a monolithic tower over the working wolf, its spicy, rank, heady smell drowned Dog in a thick miasma.

The wolf whimpered at the sight, but a glance up past the lion's cock into Master's eyes offered no sympathy or respite; Master stared down at the panting, whimpering canine, and Dog knew exactly what was expected of him.

The first swipe of tongue across the grimy flesh made Dog whimper in disgust. The next few made him groan as he felt the flecks of pungent, sour smegma coat the inside of his mouth as he tried to swallow them down. Slowly, ever so slowly, the wolf did what he could to clean the layers of smut off of Master's cock and expose the red, pulsing, irritated flesh underneath. Suckling and lapping along the shaft, and then working his tongue into the barbs that extended from the tip down to just above the base of the gargantuan length. He winced, both at the sharp prick of the fleshy spikes on his tongue and at the taste of the gunk caught in and under and caked around the expanse. He had to suck it off those parts, taking the musky malehood into his mouth and swallowing down the smegma as it grew thicker, softer, fresher.

Then Master tugged Dog down towards the stinking opening of his sheath, where fat coils of fresh, slimy filth oozed from around the base of the lion's cock. The wolf could only do his best not to retch as he lapped at it again and again, trying to fight the tide of filth. Pushing his tongue into the feline's rancid pouch. Swirling it down into the depths of Master's malehood, where the oldest of his filth had sat stewing for weeks--months--against the flesh of his cock. Sucking the acrid smegma out and then swallowing it down.

"Mmmf... yes, good dog." The lion rumbled and yowled in pleasure, the wolf's ministrations causing a river of pre to flow from his piss slit and soil the areas of his cock that Dog had just worked so hard to clean. "Be honored. You're the first to taste that deep into my pouch... I wouldn't doubt it if the filth in there was years old." By the smirk on his face, the wolf couldn't tell if the Leonine commander was still playing his sick humiliation game or speaking in earnest.

Whatever the case was, Dog was finally allowed to pull away from the lion's crotch; of course, only to have the tip of the Master's cock forced between his lips to grind against his tongue. It was all the canine could do to wrap his lips around the still foul--though marginally cleaner--flesh, and suckle down the jets of precum spurting from Master's tapered cockhead. Again, a flash of the twisted intimacy that he'd felt earlier rocked through the wolf; here he was, the feline's sweat and raunch still staining his tongue while he sucked on the other male's throbbing length. Bobbed on it, trying to ignore the barbs on the glans and along the shaft scraping the insides of his mouth. Pleasured it, looking up at the lion--at his Master--while hearing the other male's crooning and purring.

The wolf groaned and flinched when he felt the pads of the lion's hindpaw press against his own package, teasing the pulsing flesh. With a shameful thrill that shot straight into both his stomach and crotch, he realized he was hard; the feline's pawpads caressed and rubbed along the length Dog's own erection, making him whimper--choke and gag as the thick, barbed cockhead in mouth pushed against the opening of his throat--and drawing another laugh from Master. "That's right. You love this, Dog. You enjoy showing off your disgusting cock while cleaning up Master's filth." The rough sole pressed down, and Dog whined as the pleasure mixed with sharp, shooting pain. "Drinking Master's piss gets you hard. Sniffing Master's sweaty, smelly body gets you hard. Tasting Master's dirty cock gets you hard."

Dog could only release another low whimper, his tongue and mouth working to pleasure the lion's cock. It was disgusting--he was disgusting--and dirty, and filthy, and he loved it. The conviction in Master's voice sent throbs of arousal through his cock as he sucked and bobbed on the feline's male flesh. It was difficult, however; the sharp spikes on the head and down either side of the shaft pricked his tongue and gums and cheeks again and again, making him pull away, and the sheer size of the gargantuan length prevented him from easily sliding down to take it to the hilt. He could only let it fall out of his mouth and drag his tongue along the massive, twitching, saliva-and-smut-coated cock.

"Get a good look at it, Dog. This is what a Leonine cock looks like. A real male's cock." Master's eyes glinted with delight at him from above. "Take a good long look at it, and feel how pathetic your disgusting little dog cock is in comparison." The hindpaw grinding down against Dog's erection pressed more firmly, and Dog's cheeks burned as he felt it; he'd always considered himself average--maybe a bit below, judging by the glimpses he could catch of the other males in the town guard--but the Leonine commander's thick, throbbing pillar of flesh was monolithic in both size and girth compared to his own. He whined in shame, rocking his hips and humping into the stimulation of Master's pawpads, as he rubbed his nose into Master's stinking pubic fur and sweaty balls and worshipped the other, larger male's virility.

The lion didn't seem to be content with the desperate licking and lapping Dog was giving him, however. Once again, the wolf felt Master's paws grasping his head and grinding him into the feline's musky crotch. As the smutty erection ground against his lips and snout, Dog reluctantly opened his mouth to take the barbed length once more. It ground against his tongue, scraping and scratching the writhing flesh, and then pushed deeper. Deeper. Dog gagged as it pushed against the opening of his throat once more, and he looked up to give Master a pleading look.

"Don't complain, Dog." Once again, whatever sympathy he may have hoped for was completely absent in the cruel smile and glinting eyes of the male looming over him. "You should be honored to take master's cock to the hilt." The lion ignored the gasping and choking and whining from the wolf as he pushed even deeper. Dog's throat convulsed and squeezed around the barbed intruder, but that only made the pain worse as the feline's cock sank into his gullet. Dog could only relax--as much as he could with the scraping pain shooting through his maw--close his eyes while breathing through his nose--filling his lung's with Master's spicy, pungent scent--and allow himself to be used by the Lenonine commander.

Again and again. Thrust after thrust. Slamming against the wolf's face and grinding the canine's abused nose into his pubes. Letting his balls smack and slap heavily against Dog's chin as they drew up in preparation to dump their pent-up load. Ravishing the tight, clenching passage of the canine's throat as his shaft sank into its depths over and over. The lion purred in pleasure, watching the hazing of Dog's eyes and the slackening of the wolf's jaws with sadistic delight. Meanwhile, Dog's mind swam and sank into a musky, pungent, stinking glaze of both pain and pleasure; pain as his mouth and gullet were used, and pleasure as his own erection continued to press and leak and throb against Master's pawpads. He didn't even get to enjoy his own orgasm, however; his cock jumped and spurted, but whatever satisfaction he could get from cumming was immediately washed away by the sensations in his nose and mouth.

Finally, Dog was brought back to himself with a choking yelp of pain when the barbed length was yanked out of his throat. Again the lion's cocktip pressed to his tongue; but this time, his mouth was quickly flooded with the lion's seed as Master roared out his orgasm. Briny. Bitter. Acrid. The flavor curdled Dog's tongue as he was forced to swallow it; Master's wordless glare was sufficient threat of what would happen if he allowed a single drop past his lips. Again Dog was forced to gulp down a 'gift' from his Master, and his sore, stinging throat working to pump the flood into his roiling gut as tears pricked his eyes.

The wolf latched off when the last few spurts of seed stained his tongue. He panted and retched, and received a mockingly-tender pat between the ears. "Good boy, I didn't even have to tell you to swallow. You'll make a fine servant yet." Dog's vision swam as his mind reeled at the debauchery that he'd been forced into; the taste of the lion's sweat and semen lingering in his maw, the raunch of the lion's body staining his nostrils and windpipe and filling his lungs, and the feeling of a few final meager droplets of his own cum seeping from his own softening cock. However, it seemed that the Leonine commander still wasn't finished; Dog heard the shifting of the other male turning around, and then felt the yank on his ears forcing his nose forward and into the even ranker cleft of the feline's ass. "Get me hard again, Dog. I've yet to mark your rear hole as mine."

Dog shuddered, icy fear running down his spine to his tucked, trembling tail; both at the prospect of being fucked by that barbed erection, and at the hints he was already getting of the miasma that had been stewing between Master's haunches and would soon stain him even more thoroughly than the lion's other odors. He pressed his own paws against the feline's buttocks--to feel the flexing firmness of the muscles even here or to push himself away even he didn't know--and let out a weak whine. "Master, please... no more. I beg you."

"Silence, Dog." The grip of the paw holding his snout against that raunchy asscrack tightened. "Lick."

And, heaving as he did so, Dog licked. Up and down the line between those iron-hard cheeks, from the rancid pit behind Master's balls to the base of the lion's hiked tail. And then, finally, into the cleft to taste the filth within. Old, sour sweat and smut smeared on his tongue as he pried the feline's ass apart, finally releasing the waft of putrid musk he'd feared. He reeled. His mind swam. And still he licked deeper and deeper into that greasy, grimy valley until his tongue touched the tightly-puckered hole hidden within.

A purr and a deep, lusty growl from above. "That's good. Lick my ass, you filthy dog." As Dog lapped over and swirled around the lion's winking rim, Master let out deep croons of pleasure. As Dog's tongue reluctantly pushed against and delved into the tautly-clenched ring, Master yowled and hissed and stroked his rising cock. As Dog worshipped the feline's rank asshole, Master prepared himself for another round of claiming his new wolf slave utterly and completely.

Dog was finally pushed away from Master's rear, and collapsed on the floor of the tent in an almost-insensate heap. He watched as the lion turned back around, one paw pumping the proud tower of his erection as it jutted from his plump sheath once more. "On your hands and knees, Dog. Show me that filth-hole you have under your tail." A smirk, and a chuckle like approaching thunder. "Spread your cheeks like the bitch you were made to be."

Dog whined. His face was an inferno of shame and humiliation. But still, he obeyed. The wolf rolled over and pushed himself to his knees to raise his rump up for Master. He reached back to grasp his own lithely-muscled asscheeks and spread them wide open, then hiked his tail up high to completely expose his own tense, tight, virginal hole. "Master..." He hated--Jack hated--the weakness in his hoarse voice as he pleaded with the lion. "I've never... taken another male... back there." He'd heard of the practice--knew that more than a few of the guardsmen and even a few males in town had done it with each other--but had never even considered the possibility of taking this position or asking another male to take it for him. And now here he was, presenting himself like a female--a bitch--for the Leonine commander; deep at the back of Dog's mind, from the cage 'Master' had forced him into, Jack howled with rage. "Please, may I have some... preparation?"

A snort of contempt from behind. Dog winced as the sharp barbs crowning the lion's erection jabbed into the sensitive flesh of his pucker. "You don't need any 'preparation', Dog. You were born to take my cock up here. To be a cumdump for your Master."

"No, please... I can't. I can't Master." His flexing rim tightened as the slick tip rubbed over and pushed against it; he could feel both his drying saliva and the fresh spurts of pre and cum that coated the thick cockhead, but even with his limited experience he knew that would be far from enough. "Please, let me stretch myself, Master. Get some oil so I can-"

A heavy paw cuffed him hard enough to make Dog see stars, and then his head was yanked upwards and backwards by the grip on his sore ears so he could meet the fiery glare Master was giving him. "You dare tell me what to do, you disgusting fucking dog...!?"

"N-no! Master, I-!"

Dog was given another cuff across the back of his head, and then a shove that sent him sprawling on his side. The wolf whimpered and curled in on himself, waiting for the rain of blows from the enraged lion to commence; instead, he felt something soft and dry being tossed onto his face. The lion's loin wrap? Shaking with fear, Dog lifted his head to gaze at the other male; master was looming over him, cock twitching and throbbing before him. "Dry it."

"Master...?"

"Dry. It. Do not make me repeat myself again. If you dare to ask me for oil and stretching, you will get nothing."

Dog whined, but followed his Master's order. With cloth in hand, he began rubbing and stroking the lion's malehood to wipe away every drop of moisture on it. His spit. The feline's dribbling precum and leftover seed. Even the smears of smegma still clinging to the length. Then he was forced to his hands and knees again as Master knelt behind him.

An iron grip on his nape. Pricks and scrapes across his tender hole. Pressure from behind on the clenching rim, and a rush of humid breath against the side of his face. "Get ready, dog." The wolf howled in agony as over half the lion's thick, barbed length was shoved into him in one slamming thrust.

His hole burned. He could feel hot trickles--blood?--down the back of his ballsack from his broken ring. And still the lion continued to push, ignoring the wolf's squirming and whimpering as he sank into Dog's hot, tight, clenching hole to the hilt. Master purred with delight at every squeeze of the torn inner walls around his cock, and ground his much larger, heavier balls against Dog's own pathetic little orbs. Then Master pulled back, drawing himself out, and Dog let out another pained yelp as the barbs along the length within him scraped his insides raw.

Again and again. In and out, breaking through every attempt by his rim and inner walls to force the insistent intruder out. Dog ground his cheek against the floor, panting and groaning while hot tears spilled from his clenched eyes. He could feel Master's heavy, muscular body atop his own as the lion's chest pressed on his back. He could feel Master's breath on his face as the feline purred and rumbled and murmured out low, husky 'good dog's and 'tighter's in to his ear. He could feel Master's paws all over his body, playing with his balls and sheath and stroking over his chest and belly with every thrust into his depths. He knew better than to mistake the other male's touches for intimacy or a desire to give Dog any iota of pleasure; Master was feeling up his new toy, claiming and reaffirming his claim to every inch of Dog inside and out.

He felt paws on his sheath, and the touch of something hard and cold. Metal? It enclosed his pouch and was strapped around his swinging ballsack, completely caging his malehood. A chuckle, and then a nibble on his ear. "I don't want to see your filthy cock in my presence ever again, Dog." A huff of breath and a slamming thrust into his hole. "I may allow you to take your cage off if you perform your tasks well, however. But until then..." Something small, hard, and metallic rubbed across his lips, and then was lifted up into his teary gaze. A key; the key to the cage around his sheath. "Swallow it."

Dog opened his mouth, and the key was placed on his tongue. He gulped, choking as the tiny thing caught in his raw throat, and then gulped again. Finally, he felt it travel down to drop into his stomach, joining everything else the lion had made him swallow.

"Good boy." Another affectionless nibble on his ear and a pat on his belly. "Maybe in a few days when it comes out, I'll let you unlock yourself." Dog whimpered as the meaning of the lion's words were made clear by a squeeze on his rump. "Or maybe I'll have you swallow it again. We'll see." Dog heaved; he doubted Master would give him the luxury of letting him clean the key off before taking it down his throat once more.

All thoughts of the feline's plans for him were swept away as the Leonine commander resumed his thrusting. Faster and faster, the hot wetness in his hole and on the shaft pushing in and out of him finally providing the lubrication Dog had begged for. He remembered the saltiness of Master's cum, and began to beg the lion not to finish inside him; Master ignored Dog's insolence beyond another sharp cuff and a powerful slam of his hips that made the wolf howl. Dog could feel every thrust touching--pushing, slamming, pounding--something inside him that, to his shame, sent pulses of pleasure to his crotch. However, the metal encasing his sheath sealed his malehood away, leaving the sparks nowhere to go; they lingered in his groin, gathering into a twisting knot of pressure. He squirmed. He whined. He clenched and squeezed and milked the fat, virile cock within him.

Finally, the lion came; Master roared out his pleasure as he pumped shot after shot of seed deep into the wolf's bowls, marking even the deepest parts of the canine's body as his. And as Dog had feared, the rush of briny cum over his injured inner walls made him yelp and scream once more as agony washed through his abused body. He could feel his swimming mind growing dark; he was blacking out.

The next few moments were a blur to Dog. A sharp spike of pain driven into his hind end, and the sound of someone yowling and whining somewhere far away. Heat and wetness under his tail, and stinging pinpricks over his ruined hole. Shifting, movement, something firm and soft and furry under his chin. Stench filling his nose, spicy and alkaline and tinged with a coppery undertone.

He came back to himself as something tumescent and wet smacked the bridge of his snout, sending splatters of moisture across his muzzle; Master's cock. He gazed at it, blinking and groaning and trying to clear his hazed mind. Master was sitting on the floor, and Dog had his cheek on the feline's thigh. The Leonine commander was stroking between Dog's ears--holding the canine's face in his spent crotch--while looking down at him with cold expectancy. "Clean me, Dog. Then you can rest until I've need of you again." He grasped his still-throbbing malehood by the base, lifted it up, and then dropped it onto Dog's snout once more.

Dog's tongue moved out to obey Master's command. He licked at the lion's cock, tasting his blood and the smut from deep within his ass and the brine of Master's seed. He lapped every bit of the mingling filth up, cleaning the feline length from base to tip. He gulped it down, drinking his Master's gift as Dog--Jack--finally accepted his place.

As the lion had said, he was the victor; his armies had crushed Wolveshire's defenses and guardsmen, and he had conquered the town and its people. As such, the spoils of war were his to take as he pleased; that included any of the defeated soldiers that caught his eye. That included Jack. Now the Leonine commander was the Master, and Jack was the lion's Dog. His cumdump. His slave.

Jack nuzzled into the feline's rank, cloying, stinking crotch, and pressed his lips to the lion's softening cock as it slid back into its sheath. That sick, twisted intimacy flowed through him as he gazed up at the other, larger, stronger male. "I await your order, Master."