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My dearest thanks to my wonderful proofreaders, psydrosis and fopfox!

May all your thanks for the thumbnail go to plaguedobsession ! The flower of is art is as pure as the center of his heart.

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The Humiliation of Renegade Dane

The burly lion sat alone in darkness, the caravan wheels rumbling beneath him, cursing at his one crucial mistake. Thrashing, unmoving, the memory remained: trip on an exposed root, twisting the ankle, cursed a little too loud...all now a flash in his mind. Fist marks littered the ground which had reassured him this was it. No way out. Nerves hadn't hit him this hard since the first day of training, and that was just a quarrel with the higher ups. All the times he told them he'd be the one to end this war; and god dammit, he gave them a reason to believe it. Now was the breaker of his streak of success. Just like he was told so long ago, all it ever takes: one crucial mistake, and his life was taken before his very eyes.

The light was a piercing arrow as they opened the caravan doors; Dane winced, expecting the darkness of the same night he was captured. A few muffled voices prompted three feline men -- two around the left, one on the right -- to enter the space. Even in the state Dane was in, they seemed to tremble in fear. The solo figure was a shadow, but the threat of his crossbow's head against his temple made his intentions clear enough.

"Hands on your legs," the gunman commanded, to which Dane complied. The cold, heavy, chains snapped around his wrists, and he flinched as if he had blown his last chance to break free.

"On your feet," the footman ordered.

Dane's scowl was preserved, but he stared downwards, not moving an inch. He felt two tugs at his wrists, leading him to look at the two soldiers. From the heavy, iron rings on his wrists extended a long chain, one of each held between the hands of two soldiers. The two tugged at them as they backed out the caravan, pulling the scowling brute by the arms with them. Slowly, from his wild, spiky brown hair to the cream yellow fur of his skin, he felt his skin heat as he tried to adjust to his new fate.

And the beast fully emerged, a choir of unsuspecting gasps erupting from the sea of rustling robes and posh wigs as the veiny, muscled giant's glare spoke louder than his footsteps. Prior to the trip, the royal guard had stripped him of all his armor, weapons, bracelets and tools, right down to the polished golden beads in his long, brown braids. Now all that remained was a brown loincloth wrapped around his waist, one single patch tattered at the bottom daintily floating over his groin. His chains clinked and rattled as his arms thrashed, scanning the crowd, spitting at those with the most merciful looks, until the guards poked his back with their spears; last warning.

The audience of maus, bombays and bobtails silently stared in awe. As they let it sink in, a brown lynx dressed in snow white robes swayed from behind the caravan. He put his arms in a V to address the crowd. At once, from the front to the back, the waves of spectators gave him their full attention.

"My companions!" the priest announced, his every word moving slow and bombastic. "I commend you for partaking in this glorious day. This day of extreme relief to those affected by the pillages he has caused." He paused to let the reality sink in. "Standing before you is the man who caused terror and chaos through all the streets of Valcoron. The very face of betrayal and anguish for nearly thirteen years. Yes, my friends, what you see now is a spy of the Curian empire. For He is the man who's been sleeping with the royal concubines, kidnapping them away from our great honor." The priest paused as the audience became a sea of anxious mumbles. "We simply cannot allow this in our society. Today, we send a message to the Curians that rings true as the chaos in their blood!"

"Damn the Curian empire," Dane snarled, his voice low and gruff, sparking a reaction from the audience. "You mistreat your women. You force them into harems. Robbing them of their livelihoods. By all means, all facets of life, my efforts were a rescue mission. What say of you and your intentions?"

The priest approached him slowly until his breath brushed against Dane's face. "You do _not_disrespect the Great One."

Saliva flecked off Dane's fangs as he growled slowly, "I don't give a damn about your god."

The low growl that furled in the lion's throat was the loudest noise on the block. His cold stare reeked of "get the fuck on with it", but the subtle poke of another soldier's spearhead on his back made for a fitting response. After that, he stayed silent.

"He comes to you with a bargain," the priest announced. "A bargain of which he cannot fulfill. For the total of gold he has stolen -- that which has nearly dismantled our economy, time and time again, and the amount of blood on his hands, simply cannot be repaid. We hold his name in utmost sorrow and rage. Here, this resentment shall be released."

Dane peered around the sniveling crowd as they began to whisper amongst each other. Even the feral pets were silent. In the distance opened several doors, entering civilians who had just gotten a clue. A fox mother in a blue bonnet urged her child to stay inside right before she closed the door behind her, then stared at him. Dane snarled as this happened countless times in countless forms. Truthfully, he didn't care how hurt they were. He just hated the subconscious feeling of his loincloth becoming lighter in the stiff breeze.

"Shame he has brought upon us all," the priest said, "from civilian to soldier alike. Therefore, it is shame we will give him back."

They locked eyesight.

"Are there...." he hesitated, "any last words, renegade?"

Dane paused. The priest thought he'd have nothing to say. The last thing he expected was the sudden spit upon his right cheek.

"Your words mean nothing to me," Dane hummed. "Had I conquered the kingdom myself, you'd be the _first_virgin I'd bend over a pew."

Something within the priest's heart beckoned him to lash out, and Dane could see it by the jolt of his biceps. He twiddled his necklace between his fingers as he turned away, joining the nuns off the side of the staircase.

"Proceed," he grumbled without looking back.

Like clockwork, the crowd parted, revealing the long road ahead. The chains rattled as he took the first few steps out the podium. The town crier led the way, illuminating a hallway of silence: "Shame! Shame! Shame!" Dane felt none of it. Not seven steps in, his glare alone back up a scowling man in a red tunic, a spit in the face to end the conversation.

The lion smirked, his wrists tugged, feet kicking up dirt, loincloth picking up flecks. Though the villagers comforted him with hands to the shoulders, they kept the same stern look at the victim. Dane flicked his tail in a code they couldn't understand, then turned a blind eye to them.

It was as if his very existence was agitating these people. Feral birds chirping in the distance couldn't even break the silence. Through block after block, their eyes threw darts, a conversation of nothing but mutual disdain. Grunting on every exhale, furled eyebrows, jangling chains, the heat welled up in his body, but he ignored it all, imagining them as the rats that they were before as he passed the hordes of them by.

Eight blocks conquered already, pebbles under his soles, footprints deep enough to last forever. Though a symbol wasn't enough. Few times did a spectator dare to raise his voice, only to be silenced as Dane showed his sharp, bare teeth. Then the guards would tug his arm chains and remind him of his place again, of which he cursed them back and continued the walk...god help them if they ever lose their grip.

As they took the next curve, they seemed to hit another part of town. His nose raised to the sky...something about this one's different. A new shade of anger crossed all their faces like it was painted on their cheek. He looked deep into the tainted, wooden walls, the blacksmith's anvil beyond the window, the tea kettle over the fire in another house, extraneous details; the witches' brew of a new thought. His eyes shifted up one more notch, and caught sight of the discolored patch of straw in that one person's house.

Now the thought ran through his head again. No...but it was years ago. He hadn't even remembered what he stole. But of course that wouldn't matter. The loincloth brushed his inner thighs as a new insult rang out:

"WHORE!"

Dane's constant snarl leapt to a roar: a feral, disgusting, ugly roar, one that rivaled his feral ancestors'. Immediately, he backed up the group around him following through. Then he looked around at the fifty or so people out on their front doors to meet him with the exact same looks.

And seconds passed, there came another voice:

"YOU DESERVE NOTHING!"

Behind him. Dane turned as much as he could, roaring once again, but the audience had begun to chime in. The chatter started in pockets, but soon, before their very eyes, grew to a chaotic lashing of insults, hearsay and vigor. As his one and only defense, he kept up the snarl, flexing his muscles as his wrists tugged on the chains.

"Barbarian!"

_ "Heretic!"_

_ "Disgrace!"_

"Loosen the chains, you cowards!" he yelled over the crowd. "I'll teach all you bastards how to respect me!"

Chaos was afoot. The civilians were inching in, though most met the pushing elbow of a guard. Snarling, grunting, Dane flicked his arm and sent a heavy chain link whiplash back to the holders, trying to make them lose their grip. His head was rapid, sniffing out a target; this must be when his captors make a mistake, and the onslaught of outcries bashed into his dignity:

"Burn him!"

"Repent! In the name of the Great One!"

"Bring back the women!"

Thrashing, yanking, the guards just wouldn't lose footing. The frustration boiled as a purr in his lower throat that grew and grew, a devil's warning burning at the tip of his throat...and all at once, with the first object thrown; a rotten apple at his side, he let all of it loose:

"You'll never find the concubines!" Dane shouted, slurring. "I'd steal the rest of them and bring this pathetic city to ashes!"

And the crowd turned to a riot, guards exiting their chariot just to keep the peace. Their eyes signaled between one another, then to the chariot, the priest. Something about this act made it look like a bluff. They looked to one of the guards holding the civilians back, nod exchange, planning like worker bees. He sheathed his spear on his back and weaved through the objects until he was just behind their captive. One last look. One more nod.

The crowd went silent before the hideous tearing sound.

Dane's scream sounded almost like a question as his useless rag of a loincloth fluttered away, trampled by armored boots, a full view of his uncovered genitals now flashing the giant audience. A breeze passed through his big, brown bush of mangly pubic hair...he looked down. That's when his pupils began to dilate.

Instantly, the cathartic roar of the crowd reached the skies above as his four inch, flaccid length swung before two big balls. Dazed, appalled, pitifully aware of his public nudity, he attempted to stop in place as his face flushed with rage, but was shoved forward by an armored gauntlet, betraying the law, forcing him into a naked walk of shame. And the lion watched as the shock and unbridled rage set in, his nudity alone causing an ear splitting riot of screams, victorious cries over clamoring pots and pans, women cheering, men berating and birds flying from their trees, burying him in layers upon layers of unbearable humiliation. Eyes wide open, lightheaded with panic, he turned his head to one of the soldiers.

"G-give me another loincloth!" he shouted. "This is completely unnecessary!"

But the soldiers' faces stayed blank, leaving him in his chasm of embarrassment. Dane looked back and watched hordes of them lean in by the dozens pointing, laughing, making him feel as vulnerable as possible. Though he was average in size, he heard no shortage of penis shaming jokes barraging him just to see his face curl and contort:

_"Hark! The renegade's penis!" _

_ "Pathetic enough for a slave!"_

_ "The whore you are now is the whore you shall forever be!"_

"Eternal shame upon you! Damn you!"

_ "'Tis the most shameful genitals imaginable!"_

One last time, he gave a quick glance to the soldiers to see a fraction of mercy...nay. Their eyebrows stayed curved in silent anger. Frustration. They wanted him naked. Laid bare to the public and judged. Dane's knees began to twist as if to cover them. Deep, deep in the recesses of his mind, the thought of how such a simple loss of one cloth could cause all this chaos brought shock to his veins, heat to his face, fire to his brain...can't think, can't see, can't move, move, move, a last ditch effort: roaring from the throat, heavy, primal, painful, everything he could possible give, but as it dissipated into the chorus of screaming, he felt a thud in his heart, letting his mouth lay agape.

They mocked and they mocked, tugging at the cuffs of their own robes, yelling obscenities, Dane could feel his shame begin to swell. Stomping, yelling back, he began to learn the hard way that there was nothing that was going to return them to silence. His huge biceps flared as he hoisted his cuffed arms to cover himself, yanking the footsoldiers with them.

"Madness!" Dane cried. "Madness! Madness! This is madness! Damn all of you! Madness!"

But every cry lay unanswered as he turned into a new block, greeting his eyes to two rows of at least a hundred villagers staring at his bare naked body. Turning as if it were an option, he saw villagers from the past trail begin to bunch in for a look at his tight ass bouncing with each step. They even saw his tail curl in a helix of incredible embarrassment, his face blushing harder, as the new, lewd cacophony erupted:

"Naked thief! Naked thief!"

"I'll bend you over where you stand!"

"Naked before the glory of the Great One!"

"This is what you deserve, whore!"

At once, the soldiers yanked back the chains in unison, and the bashful lion's penis swung back into view, a slew of laughter and insults leaving him gasping for words. All of a sudden, the dread washed over him.

"Tie him to a pole!"

_ "Pathetic cock for a pathetic whore!"_

_ "We'll drag you to the underworld!"_

_ "How dare you defy our king, you naked slut!"_

All directions, all distances, nothing but angry, rioting civilians pointing their fingers and yelling their degrading words. Like walls, they seemed to close in, step by step, beat by beat, minute by agonizing minute, but one of those minutes, they wouldn't, and that was all that mattered to him anymore.

So, he yanked the chains back and tugged with his wrists to cover his crotch once more. Like eagles in flight, the shame flowed through his every vein, step by step, beat by beat. Endless public humiliation through all the farms, markets, villages, church roads and slums, until it his cheeks cooked to modesty. He kept a sneer upon his face as he completed the block, hesitating to turn yet another.

Not yet.

____________________________________________________________________________

"Naked little peasant!"

"Fucking imbecile!"

"Little whore!"

"Ragged dog!"

"Small dicked cunt!"

"Fucking disgrace!"

Shoulders slumped, nipples hardened, prickled fur, feet tired, Dane could hardly believe how long his naked frame had been on display. Even the sun was looking down at him, turning the sky now a deep turquoise. Barbecue smoke, roasted pork mixed with sweat and shame was the scent of his journey, through every street his naked body had been displayed to. Breathing through his mouth, his eyes were stained with tears, his heart galloping like a runaway horse, knees bruised from all the times he had dropped to them before a boot to his back put him back in his place. Tomatoes and stale vegetables stained his once yellow fur as his face flushed with incredible embarrassment, walking on weak legs through corner after corner of unfathomable humiliation; growls of rage, now merely a whisper.

Tired from tugging, his arms were limp and pathetic, floating to the sides while he watched the tip of his dick flick daintily between his thighs. Through hour after hour, the crowd ebbed and flowed between mocking shouts and pitiful laughter. Periodically, the guards stopped him dead in his tracks to allow the villagers to write sigils of sin, lust and villainy upon his body. After hours, the drips of ink mixed with his sweat and tears as he did everything in his power to ignore it. Writing on his inside thighs read "SLUT FOR THE DEVIL", "ABSOLUTE WHORE" on his pecs, "DISGRACEFUL" on his oblique, a simple "USELESS" pointing to his penis, and so on, his body an open book.

And that wasn't the end of it. The general public had been so enamored that they formed a stampeding parade that trailed behind the chariot, leaving Dane constantly blushing, impossibly exposed. Their stamping compounded to the sound of a thousand feral horses. Not even his bare rear end and curled tail was safe from the shame. And still, like always, there was another block, another gathering of uproarious laughter and insults. Though the end was in sight...down the hall lay some semblance of a destination. An opening, a passage, the slightest marble of hope had shone.

And once again, the new crowd erupted, Dane snapping his eyes closed. The seconds passed like hours, but finally his presence spilled into this wide, open area. A small, wooden platform stretching far to either side in the center of this field; beyond it, the towering view of a familiar castle, the sight of which used to fill him with thrill now reeked of disaster. He looked behind him to see the crowd pouring in, hordes of people from either side, flooding the field. His heart sank; from the start he had assumed this would end at the castle. No. This was his destination.

"N-no...please..." Dane whimpered, more tears forming. "Not like this...."

The chariot stopped in the center of the field, leaving the guards to push him up the stadium steps, hands grabbing his butt cheeks and back, legs shaking as he felt his exposure multiply by the millisecond. His face was aghast as he slowly turned, ink and sweat dripping from his fur, inch by inch, second by second, his mind erupted, body rattling madly, the view of the massive crowd of thousands, thousands for sure stretching to the horizon, gawking as one at his bare naked body. In an instant, unsteadiness took him, a typhoon of humiliation undoubtedly felt by few men in history making his heart beat like a blacksmith at work. His mouth curved down, feeling as though he'd faint..."humiliation" was not even close to accurately describing how he felt. Not a _single_patch of grass was visible as all of them mocked him for his one crucial mistake.

He felt as though he might faint; at his wrists, he felt the shackles release. Quickly, he threw his hands over his genitals and backed up, still attempting to comprehend the fact that he was standing completely naked in front of quite possibly the entire enemy kingdom. A wisp of an idea crossed his mind...was there a way out? Plow through them all? But he was so weak...

"Reveal yourself, coward!"

"Uncover yourself!"

Good God, and how could they want more? More shame. More humiliation. More misery. Sickening. He turned, but the crowd had taken there, as well, surrounding him completely. He stopped, breathing slowly...and in his trance, he felt a tap on his shoulder behind him. For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop. He could feel the familiar breath just two inches from his ear:

"Drop. Your. Hands."

Dane shook as he slowly let them down. Now his worried eyes still trailed to the bushy faced white furred cat male wading out in front of him, a deadly look in his eye as he carried a golden sceptre tipped with a ruby caged within three curved, golden claws. A brilliant, violet cape with white bushes on the ends coated his lean, almost lanky body, though just two inches shy of Dane's height. As he paced, his purple, bedazzled with glimmering gems, cast lens flares of holy energy into the audience. His leggings were like that of a soldier's, plated on the kneecaps, steel boots over his feet. Nodding, gave him a grin and a wink before he turned to the crowd once more:

"Welcome," he announced, "to our redemption!"

Then another cheer erupted from the crowd, and it pelted at Dane like a wall of wind. Absently, he paced back and forth just to keep the blood pumping, to stop the world from spinning so fast. Each second of time passed like minutes as he whimpered his exhales out. Then the captive flinched as the king shot his piercing cyan eyes at him.

"I received word from a messenger that your spectators had robbed you of your decency," he said, circling him menacingly. "By the Great One, such lies would have a man skewered before sundown. But now...now you've come before me in your truest form. Such poetic justice..." Sebastian moaned to the sky like a strange orgasm, then shot a scowl at him again, holding his hand out at him. "You called me a coward when you stole what was mine. Now, you will call me who I am: Sebastian, your new king!" His sceptre hit the ground with a thunk by Dane's ankle, making him flinch. Then he grabbed the lion through his beard. "Look at me. Look at me, renegade. Look at me with those eyes of worthless sacrifice. What say of you, to come forth to the face of triumph? I've a thousand quills on the back of my neck like a pheasant_to rewrite your legacy...." He stopped when he was inches from Dane's face. "...and I'd _still have room to cross Curia out."

His breath was shaky and his face looked jaundice and tired. "Y-you haven't broken me...."

Sebastian winced as if he was offended. He spidered his fingers up the lion's neck without even a muscle of retaliation. His hand reached over his face, hesitated...then pried his mouth apart, circling his digits around in his tongue. Still, Dane could not bring himself to fight back. Taking them out, he drew his wet fingers further and further down his silky fur, collecting running ink as he went, and drew the Valcoronian emblem on his abs.

"So brave, yet so pitifully naive," Sebastian beamed, pacing away. "No wretch as pitiful as you deserves a traditional end. I'd rather beat you of any Curian information you possess, then lock you in the place where the sun doesn't exist."

"You coward...." Dane's resentment swelled. "You can't even finish the job!"

"You are not worthy_of death!" Sebastian howled much louder, a performative hand towards him. "A bloody guillotine blade speaks no tales of honor; it is the head that _falls_from it! _Have at you! I've no choice but to settle this in a parley of democracy." He turned to the crowd, raising his arms to the skies. "People of Valcoron! Lend me your ears!"

The shouts and screams of chaos quickly rumbled into a vocal earthquake. Against the king's orders, he slowly drifted his hands over his genitals again. Every muscle in his body tensed as the whole world degraded and humiliated him:

"Hang him by his fingers!"

"Gloveless duty in the prickle pear fields!"

"Whip him on the gates of Curia!"

"Tie him to a pole in Central Town!"

"Make him pay his worth!"

"Pay his worth!"

"Pay his worth!"

"Pay his worth!"

Hundreds of these ideas were tossed around, but the crowd seemed to be won over by the last one. The voices seemed to blend into one: "Pay his worth! Pay his worth! Pay his worth!" Sebastian held a hand up and kept it there, watching them for several minutes before they were all able to calm down.

"Wh-what does that mean, you psychotic freaks?!" Dane demanded.

"Sermon six, page nine hundred and ten," Sebastian said, "the harrowing tale of the Forsaken One. A tragedy of kingliness to servitude. It is by religion, you see, that your fate has been risen." His grimace thundered. "By decree of The Great One, and all of his loyal peoples," his sceptre clanked to the floor, "you shall now be auctioned to slavery."

Out from the side, two guards hoisted a pillory to the center of the stage, the sight of it met with hoots and hollers; a thousand heads smiling, laughing, sneering, raging, neutral, a whirlwind pushing their victim a few steps back.

"The bargain of the Forsaken One," announced Sebastian, his eyelids retreating back into the sockets, "is to be the recipient in sexual intercourse with the new king. If he is to cum before a buyer is made, he shall be claimed by the kingdom. He is to be shackled, walked naked throughout the kingdom each day, tied to the poles in town squares, paraded each day before he is thrown back into his cell." Sebastian paused to sink in his captive's reaction. "Though should he last, then his fate shall be sealed by the buyer. Furthermore, dear renegade, if you refuse, you shall instead become a servant to the royal guard. Then, and _only_then, shall you walk bare among the troops that will torch your great empire!"

A flare deep within his system told him to pounce, but that would mark the end. He looked nervously towards the icon of shame, and the dread ran through him like a pike. Beyond the three holes, he could see their weary faces become devilishly intrigued. Catcalls for misery. He could feel the instinctual growl well up deep in his throat.

"Well?" the king asked. "The choice is yours."

The longer the tired lion looked on, the more he felt himself heat up. The king crossed his arms, posing like the end of an exotic dance, a confident, shit eating smirk boasting for him. Each breath Dane too became progressively more aggressive, the instinctual growl morphing to a deep seated rage. He would not let them have it.

"Very well, then," he shouted gruffly, wiping his eyes. "If I shall dabble with the devil, I'd rather it be his impersonating pawn."

Sebastian scoffed, losing his cool. Lashing a hand, he yanked him by the back of the neck towards the pillory: "Guards!" They fastened it down upon his neck and hands. Dane looked out to the ocean of onlookers as the next second, he felt a tongue circle around his asshole.

Dane gasped, thinking there was nothing left to surprise him. Damn if it wasn't ecstasy; pushing his ass back at his face, feeling his loins rile up and excite, his penis growing in full view of the public. The crowd riled up with him, and his whole body felt light and hot in the thrum of intense humiliation. The king's claws scraped around his hips as he pulled his ass in further, going for further depth, inciting a moan lost in all the audible chaos. Dane's legs were beginning to feel weak already as he started to have doubts about winning the crowd over.

Several minutes it went on, easing in and out of his hole, teasing for the time when he would let up. The sexualization was agony, sandwiched between a rimjob and a thousand ruthless faces yelling at him. Though he would not falter. Not before it had even started.

A smack on his ass and a pull on his tail, his asshole going cold in the outside air. Though he could not see, he saw the crowd's attention shift upwards slightly, then suddenly start to cheer. Dane's pupils expanded...it was time.

The head hit his ass, the first blow on his weak spot, already feeling himself stretch to accommodate. It was like hovering the butt-end of a spear over it. Like a test. Dane huffed, but mainly in frustration, an agonizing hair away from pleasure. Teeth clenched, wincing every time he felt the slightest inch of its movement, he waited for the final plunge. Instead, the king pulled a handful of his mane. Dane screamed out in frustration; that was just the vulnerability he was waiting for.

"Let us begin!"

As he plunged it in, he made the lion yowl like a kitten, and the bids had started to come in. Dane's ass stretched instantly in the impact of the impalement, as the warm, slick pipe smacked again and again into his body. Sebastian wasn't even grunting, but he had come in fast, the fleshy plaps of their skin radiating across the land.

Meanwhile, for them, a cacophony of bids erupted:

"Ten coins!"

"Twenty coins!"

"Thirty-six!"

_"Forty!" _

Though for some, money to buy a slave meant nothing. To them, Dane was not even worth the lowest bid. Those who had dropped out or simply did not participate began to mercilessly humiliate him further:

"Slut for the king! Slut for redemption!"

"Your naked frame will never be forgotten!"

"Take his cock like a man, you fucking whore!"

"Cum already and end this, foul wench!"

Through the pain and the shame, Dane was forced to prosper in his own pride. All jabs and stabs and jeers had been broken away. Caught into the rack and fucked like a toy, he felt Sebastian's claws caress his obliques tenderly for the slow, methodical thrusts; then iron grip for the harder ones, a cycle that seemed to last for hours as the kind single handedly dominated and stretched the renegade's poor ass.

As his thighs rumbled and his claws left marks into the woodwork, Dane's hard cock raged and raged, begging for release. Pre cum stringed off his urethra as he felt himself pulsate with pleasure. He needed this so bad, but with all his might, he had to deny it to himself. The king's voice rang loud and true, but mostly mocking, as he spanked Dane's supple ass again.

"Do I hear two thousand?!"

Dane moaned in confusion and pleasure, unsure of how much time had passed already. By this time at least half of the crowd dropped out, finding their words better used degrading him. As the thought of it crept up his spine, so did the king's hand as his thrusts slowed for a minute, slowed for an hour...then grabbed his mane and smashed his humiliated ass again.

"Two thousand thirty!"

_ "Two thousand eighty-nine!"_

_ "Two thousand five hundred!"_

The crowd was an ocean, their bodies jostling through each other, as a strong voice in the bid was better than no voice at all. Their actions rang through Dane's skull while his prostate tingled in pleasure, balls swinging, every strand of his willpower telling him not to cum. Practically feeling it on the edge of his bouncing erection, he thought about virtually anything else as the king's cock turned his resolve to rubber.

Sebastian smacked his ass. "Tell me that you love it!"

"I-I love it!" Dane yelled absent-mindedly.

The king wasn't satisfied. He yanked on his tail and brought his hips in, pressing them like it'd make their sex tighter, thrusting him deeper. "Say that you love my cock! Call me who I am! Say it louder!"

"I love it! I love your cock, king Sebastian!"

There was nothing that could ever hold it back. His face was ridiculous with pleasure and arousal, tongue lolling out, and for that, he was once again viciously degraded:

"Put it back in your mouth, you slut!"

_ "Someone should stuff that end, too!"_

_ "Throw him in the dungeon already!"_

As for the bid, it was nearly impossible to tell, but there was no time to decipher it. The king's thrusts became faster and faster, iron grips onto his sub's supple hips as he practically dragged his weakened form into his insatiable lust. He let out one final yelp as he drew it all the way in, filling him up with his seed. As the crowd realized what had happened, they began to cheer for the Great One.

It was all just too much. A single tear ran down his chin, winding through his fur like a maze before it dribbled off, though his face was unbroken. His slow breaths sounded like an angered bull with a nose ring. And as quickly as he felt the peace of a break, Sebastian slapped his ass again and went straight back to fucking.

"Three thousand four hundred six!"

Dane could hardly believe what was happening. For a minute, he began to believe in their god. How could he have such stamina?! His sloppy thrusts radiated with twice the sound as normal, and twice the warmth, inundating his prostate with maximum pleasure. He could feel the cum of the Great One trickle down his fur, leaving streaks across his own ballsack.

"Three thousand six hundred!"

Yet, still, he would not falter. Clenching his teeth, he poked his claws at his own palm to cause any sort of pain. His penis was tingling with heaven like pleasure, pre cum now cold and aplenty like a jewel on his tip.

"Do I hear any more?!" Sebastian yelled charismatically.

Please, the lion pleaded to himself, hanging his head. Please, please, let this be enough....

"Going once!"

Almost there, his cock felt merely one stroke away from release.

"Going twice!"

Dane bit his lip so hard he thought he'd bite through. The pain and pleasure rang in his ass like a bell as he felt the tip stab his prostate again and again, igniting every flame inside his fickle body. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, the humiliating roar of the crowd corrupting his thoughts, the deed had been done: the shame and the arousal had broken him.

"Sold!"

_ _ Body erupting, the lion released a huge jet of semen across the stage, yelping his heart into the sky, his muscles collapsing, far enough to drip off the side. He was writhing and moaning out loud as he came spurt after spurt, his bruised kneecaps wobbling on the ground to keep the slightest possible balance. The bliss and the shame blending together felt impossible; yet, somehow, the worst was clearly yet to pass.

A calico woman with a cape and a fez swayed up the stairs to the stage, a brilliant, flowery dress covering up her orange and black fur. Dane stared blurry-eyed yet mesmerized; the twinkle in her eye catching him by the balls in one move. Though he winced as Sebastian pulled out, leaving his sub to deal with the gape. But he did not approach the victor yet. Instead he walked around to Dane's head and slapped him in the face with his cum stained hand, then waved it inches before his lips.

"I require your tongue, slave," he commanded. "This is my final request."

The sight of his cum dripping off his digits was a nasty one, but an order's an order; he learned forward best he could and lapped it up, barely even thinking of how he looked. It no longer mattered now. This was as low as anybody could go. And the king knew, nodding in immense satisfaction. Sebastian greeted the lady with a bow, shook her hand with the hand he had just gotten licked clean.

"Mary Primer," Sebastian yelled, "the victor of his worth!"

With that, he raised their connected hands up to the sky as the crowd stormed in cheers, and the captive fell limp with relieved defeat.

Finally, the guards released their captive, and immediately afterwards applied a metal collar to his neck. From the front protruded a chain link leash, the end of which was handed to the new owner. She seemed to eye him up and down like he was impressed, his deep, purple irises conveying an unthinkable emotion.

"This concludes our great ceremony," Sebastian said. "The renegade has been successfully broken. I thank you all. Glory to the Great One!"

Mary tugged on the leash, beckoning him towards the end of the stage. Nothing in Dane could get him to fight back. His wobbling knees made it almost impossible to walk. But with no cloth in her hand, it was clear to his faded mind that he would have to endure yet another naked walk of shame, this one twice as humiliating as the last, as the semen of their king still dripped out of his ass, down his inner thighs. Vision blurry and mind corrupted, still unsure of whether or not he'd even be clothed, he stumbled his way through the two columns of people once more, finally hanging his head.

____________________________________________________________________________

Two weeks had passed, and the new captive was rarely seen outside. He now resided in a two story building and was given only a small, tattered piece of useless tablecloth to wear tightly against his crotch, wrapped around his waist by a thin, almost invisible string. Worse still, his rump was entirely exposed, a crimson sting still across it like a branding of his new identity. Time to time he was spotted stringing his master's clothes upon the clothesline outside, but outside of that, it was not clear what his purpose was, or if he even had one. The people had assumed that it was behind closed doors, but Mary had a heart of gold, she wouldn't torture him. He was already done for. Even the king had lessened their security in favor of strengthening their offensive measures.

Two weeks, fourteen days, fourteen boring horizons; well, boredom could kill a man, and king Sebastian knew this all too well. Tuesday morning, he rode his chariot plainly in the streets, telling the same stories to three of his lieges that they'd already known in bountiful livelihood. As civilians bowing by instinct were ignored, every inch closer to the main destination excited him another notch, thoughts running wild of what he'd discover behind closed doors.

Mary had already opened the door to greet them as the chariot stopped nearby. Sebastian halted the guards and approached the door himself, flowing his cape with the flair of a peacock, shoulders high and rotating with a loud grin.

"Good evening, lady," he said. "I'm in the mood for some rousey entertainment. May I inspect your captive for a moment?"

She nodded; though the king didn't need permission. They both ascended to the upstairs in a line, reached the top, opened the door at the end of the hall. That's when they gasped in unison. Broken in two pieces, the shackles hanging from the walls lay empty. Sebastian ran over to investigate; they were broken in a way as if they'd been torn apart.

He looked back to Mary as two of the guards ascended the stairs and pointed. "Arrest her." A frightened, guilty look on her face, she was taken by her biceps, saying nothing at all as they lifted her off her feet. Sebastian grabbed his head and followed them out.

"How could this be?! The power of...." Sebastian looked up to the sky. "You forsake me, Great One."

Now in a sprint, he dove to the chariot and rolled off to the castle in a matter of minutes. Before they even approached the doors, their liege had sprinted out with his arm outstretched.

"My king!" he exclaimed. "They're gone! All of the concubines have gone missing!"

"What?!" Sebastian yelled, flushed with rage, grabbing him by the neck. "You utter that lie again and I'll have your head!"

Wheezing, his head shook, "No". Sebastian let go of his grip and stared off in the distance, the man sprinting away while he could, blurting out apologies. Finally the other chariot riders watched the king sway in place and locked up, as if they were expecting an order to steady him.

"Inform the general of our next attack," he uttered, no eye contact. "Find any tracks the renegade might have left and follow them. We cannot let this slip away."

They stopped. "Your highness-"

He shot them a furious look, voice cracking, "I want nothing in this kingdom done until you bring them back!" Gasps of breath as the panic wedged the gears. "Away with you!"

They saluted him and sprinted inside, yelling for backup, the muffled cries through stone walls intensifying. Yet Sebastian had not lifted a finger. Whispering softly in his position, the wind blew and chilled the tears dripping down his cheeks.

"No...no..."

His knees tasted dirt as he buried the soft, grime speckled cape in his eyes, crying into it. Loud, huge sobbing, alone in front of his castle, ready for the stones to come toppling over with everything else. And he did not raise his head, not even for a squire. Because all in all, the last thing he could do was walk in and face the totality of his one crucial mistake.