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Landon realises a split-second too late that the Cheetah had been reading his every movement. His tired appearance had been a deliberate ploy to lure him into a false sense of superiority, and as he rolls onto his back, eyes wide and heart racing, the tip of Browntooth's rapier slices all the way through his clothes from crotch to collar. He gasps as the folds of cloth and leather fall to the ground, metal belt buckle clanging against the wood of the deck, rendering him fully exposed in every sense of the word.

The cold metal point of the dread pirate's rapier presses against the soft fur of his stomach. "Well?" Browntooth says, standing over him with dark amusement dancing in his eyes. "What do you say?"

Landon swallows heavily. His crew are staring at him, at his bared chest and genitals, at the skin at the edges of his fur flushing bright pink. The humiliation is enough to break his voice. "I... I s-surrender," he whispers. "Please, don't kill me."

"I have no intention of killing you," the Cheetah says. He sheathes his rapier and steps back, his scar-riddled face smug with a toothy grin. "After all, you belong to me, now."

"What?" Landon struggles to his feet and makes a pathetic attempt at covering himself with his paws. It's no use; he can't cover everything, even with his tail tucked between his legs. He settles on shielding the vulnerable parts in front, even if it means his crew gets a generous eyeful of his bare backside. "Those weren't the terms we agreed to!"

"But they were. You all heard, didn't you?" Browntooth raises his voice for all to hear. "Whosoever wins the duel will own the loser's possessions. And since every man owns himself, he belongs to me now."

"No!" Landon cries. "You can't do that! You--"

His words are cut off as the Cheetah grabs a fistful of fur behind his head and shoves him roughly onto his knees. "You belong to me," he hisses, bending over to speak low and dangerous by his ear. "Or you forfeit our terms. Our duel was fair, was it not?"

He hates to admit it, but it was. His own hubris was what cost him the match. "...Yes, it was."

"Then, would you rather I slice your throat open and let you bleed out on your own deck?"

"No..."

"Good." The Cheetah smiles. "Because I'd much rather put you to use."

The pirate's meaning quickly becomes clear as he pulls the front of his breeches down, revealing his rapidly growing penis. Landon looks up at the glistening member hovering so close to his face and feels another flush colouring his skin, but this time, it isn't the flush of humiliation. It's... oh, God.

"Looky that, lads," the pirate chuckles, pointedly looking around at the rugged, dirty faces of their crewmembers, all eyes watching the two captains with rapidly darkening expressions. "Methinks he's actually looking forward to this."

"No," Landon manages through grit teeth, but it's a lie, a total lie, and his heart hammers in his chest. The realisation of what the Cheetah intends for him is making heat pool between his legs, arousal making his own canid cock emerge from its sheath in full view of everybody standing around them. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the crewmember's faces and the sound of their muffled laughter and jeers, but the Cheetah's hand in his fur tightens and drags him foward, and before he has a chance to object, Browntooth aims the tip of his member to Landons's quivering lips and rudely shoves it inside. His unstoppable length slides over Landon's tongue and plunges deep into the back of his throat with almost no resistance.

"That's it. Get it nice and wet," Browntooth snarls, his mouth a wicked, lopsided grin. "This is for your benefit, fotter. I don't mind going in dry, but I have plans for you. Wouldn't want to wreck you before I've had a chance to enjoy the spoils of war."