FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Insistent knocks resound against the thin wooden door, way louder than they need to be. My eyes burn a bit when I slowly blink. I don't move without permission, nor speak. The night hasn't exactly been restful, but I'm used to that permanent feeling of tiredness that comes with a deeply erratic sleep cycle.

Morning wraps me with its cold humid fingers, and I miss my mane. You don't realize how warm your mane is until it gets shaved and you have to spend your first night nude on the hard floor. Stone steals the warmth.

Next to me, the croc that left my used tail hole and buttocks splattered with his sticky semen grumbles and tosses in his large and comfortable bed. Every part of me smells of him, and others like him. I can barely tell anymore.

The pounding on the door finally comes to a halt.

-- Joknar! Are you finished with the whore?

Joknar flips heavily on his belly and buries his long reptilian head under his pillow.

-- Just take him and stop banging on the damn door, says the muffled voice of the pillow.

Another tall bandit walks in. I genuinely don't know why I bother, but I try to close my knees, to hide my sullied asshole from view. It doesn't even come close to working. The thoughts never turn to actual will. I don't lower my tail either, because I was told to stay that way, and I know it. The fucking collar. It never weakens or falter.

Thus, the first thing on display for the next croc who'll get his fill of me is my abused, branded rear. Branded -- yes -- since they eventually managed to make their iron, very excited at the thought of permanently marking a disgraced hero as theirs. I remember the hellish celebration, the crazed cheers when the white searing metal letters pressed lengthily into the side of my right butt cheek. 'T' and 'C' for Trax's Crocs. Luckily, the sharpness of the pain faded from memory; what remains is the muzzled scream that couldn't get out of my throat and the sound of my rear being seared, completely swallowed by laughter as the dirty crocs closed in for a touch of relief. For themselves, anyway.

Shortly after the branding, my thought was that it would be a humiliatingly annoying thing to hide when I'd escape. That appeared mortifying to me. After months of complete and hopeless submission as the gang's eager sex pet, I wish I could still worry about that.

The heavy figure stops close to me. I sense it looming dominantly above my prostrated body. His leg shoves roughly against my side.

-- Move your ass, pussy, he grunts. It's my turn to fuck you.

He's crude and horny, with a dull rasp to his voice. Yet, I get up and start crawling exactly as he commands. They keep my hands and paws tightly wrapped in padded leather mitts, so crawling at their feet is pretty much all I could do, cursed collar or not. Joknar doesn't protest; he's done with me, for the moment. Heck, he might've gone back to sleep already.

I pad forward in step, as I've learned to do, precisely matching the reptilian bandit's pace as we go through the underground hideout. They've turned me -- a proud leonid -- into a beaten and tamed animal, and there's nothing that I can do to deny the everyday reality of this fact. All aspects of my existence remind me of it. The thugs enjoy that. They say shame makes me a better fuck.

There's only a few of them around, so I assume most of the gang is out with their leader, perhaps making a show of force against a different bunch of unwashed criminals in yet another attempt to expand their territory. The few guards that remain barely pay attention to my seeded butt being walked to a new room. It's a regular procession.

Cold wet jizz spreads between my cheeks, but the shame of that vulgar parade doesn't burn like it used to. It's just another of the million ignominies that constitute my fate. No one's coming to help, and my captors will never let me go. I've been considering my bleak future more lucidly, as a failed hero, a reptile cock warmer. They could at least allow my sex out of its sadistic cage while they ream my tailhole and make me swallow their cocks. As damned as that thought is, I might then commit and play their game long enough to convince myself that it'll become bearable to live as their obedient slut, if I'm "good". They won't even permit that, though, and I've learned better than to try voicing my worthless opinion on this matter. As Trax made abundantly clear: they decide what I go through. Me? I only accept.

I follow the aroused crocodile upstairs, into the secluded back room of their blacksmith shop. He closes the trap door to the hideout behind us, and replaces the rug they use to cover it. He must be on duty to watch the inside of the shop, and hoping to make his job more exciting.

"I'll take your ass, this time," he says.

The large croc sits down into a dusty chair that creaks painfully, spreads his knees wide and undoes his belt and pants with an entitled toothy grin of expectation. His engorged greenish erection sticks straight up, monstrous and impatient. The thick musk instantly hits my nose in a way that I realize is brutally familiar, but it doesn't make me hesitate; I've been trained enough to know better. Even though I know that dumbass dirty croc is near the bottom of the clan's hierarchy, it's been made abundantly clear that they all own my body. I'm on my way and climbing in his lap before he can even tap his thigh and give the order.

"Sit on it, slave pussy. Face away. All I want to see while I enjoy you is your sexy butt and your shaved neck."

He laughs in the crassest way imaginable. I take place and he doesn't even bother to wipe Joknar's come from my crack. I lower myself right on top of his dick, and I stretch easily for him, going down deep and quick on his huge shaft. He immediately responds with a strong shove up, and begins to pound me by pushing and pulling me forward and backward on his lap.

"Oh, yeah. There we go. Take it all, bitch! Hur! Hur!"

His aggressive sex up my rear pushes against my inner walls, and creates waves of wasted pleasure in my caged genitals, as my limp penis struggles against the metal and my locked balls try to shift with each shove. I must remain silent so as not to disturb the fun of my masters, but I bend my head to look mournfully at my conquered limb. I know it'll soon be leaking in cruelly limited stimulation, and I'll get nothing at all save for a red, extremely sensitive anus, while my bandit master will cream me during his fat, joyous orgasm. I can't help but read what's written on my pubis, right above the cage, over and over again: "Croc property." They paint that one again every time it fades. One way or the other, the message sinks in. More and more, day by day. There's no escape. I exist solely for the satisfaction of those fucking scaly thugs. From free and bold adventurer to... this. And to think I only made one mistake.

Then, in this random moment of servitude in the middle of a week similar to any other, replete with constant disgraces and manual repetitive chores, my world changes again.

It doesn't seem like anything at first. I hear a few voices louder than usual, coming from whichever bandit is keeping watch on the roof of the shop. Probably confused clients approaching from the wrong direction and getting warned. Besides, I'm busy receiving rough anal sex, so it's rather hard to focus on anything other than the criminal cock pushing harshly in me. Seconds later, I distinctly hear an alarm shout, and the unique sound of fired arrows landing in dirt and sticking into the wooden facade of the building. The massive dick repeatedly smashing my prostate interrupts itself as the bandit taking me urgently gets up and extracts himself from my rear. I fall hard, dropped to the floor.

"Stay!"

I am ordered and thus I obey. Stunned, I watch the croc force his thwarted boner down into his pants and rush outside, turning to yell toward the trap to the underground hideout.

"Attack! Attack!"

He takes out a massive dagger that could be a short sword, and disappears through the doorway that leads to the open area where the hot forge work is usually done. Everything is happening eerily fast as the sounds of conflict get closer. There are war shouts. Funny how combat appears frenzied and chaotic when you're not in it. A moment later, the trapdoor busts open and three more scaly brutes emerge, including Joknar, who's become Trax's unofficial second-in-command since my capture. The young-yet-towering yellowish scaled reptile gives me a suspicious look, like whatever is happening is somehow my fault, or as if he expects me to try stuff during the commotion. As if that even possible with that awful collar on!

-- Remember who you belong to! he angrily warns. This'll test your loyalty! You're our male pussy! Stay in your place, and don't fuck it up. Or else!

On this, Joknar leaves after the others. I keep flattened against the floor, scared and confused, but despite myself a tiny nugget of hope grows painfully. I don't really want it. I've so often wished help was on the way; told myself that I couldn't possibly be fated to become a simple pair of trained holes for these despicable proprietors; figured that something, anything would happen to spare me this endless indignity! Yet, I was pitilessly proven wrong. Degradation after degradation, the croc bandits made of me everything they wanted. Every roaring slap on my cheeks, every hard cock I served, every spurt of saline seed over my servile body, and every second I spent on full display, slavishly cleaning that damn hideout while the bandits savored every bit of my fall made me regret ever entertaining hope of freedom. It's much easier to forget the past, focus on the day-to-day. Avoid punishments.

It's different this time, however. The reasonable voice inside me tells me so. Steel and iron clangs outside. Fighters scream in anger and pain. There's a battle for the hideout and I don't know who's winning, but most of Trax's gang is out. There's a chance, a real chance that I may not be a slave anymore! Unless, of course, the attackers are also bandits...

The sounds of combat cease abruptly, replaced by nothing. I perk my ears and listen more attentively than I ever have before, eager but equally terrified out of my mind that a croc is about walk back in here triumphantly, to have me resume my cock-filled captivity. The tension is torturous, and the silence lasts unnaturally long, or so it seems to me. What the hell is going on?

A footstep. Another! Quiet, patient. A fully armed figure leans from behind the door frame, and scans the mostly deserted back room. His swift eyes land on me. He stoically represses a gasp, and so do I.

He's not a croc!

I know this copper-red coyote. He's under arms in Karl's party. I try hard to remember his name, but I fail. I never cared enough to register it in my mind. They're mercenaries in it purely for the money. Business rivals, so to speak, but without the ethics of leonids. The rest of the Adventurer's Guild often suspected they were taking illegal jobs on the side when the pay was tempting enough, but we could never prove it. I used to despise them, yet seeing him then and there brings burning tears to my eyes. I literally cry with relief, that's how happy I am to see them. They might be greedy assholes, but they're still colleagues, right? They won't leave me to such a crude, barbaric destiny.

-- Holy shit. Elias?

Past the initial discovery, the coyote circles around, coldly taking in the sight of me. Of my abject situation, my shaved mane, my tail-end sticky with lizard semen and freshly stretched anus. I can't move. He swipes at my lifted tail. I... I bring it back up. I was told so! After several seconds, he shakes his muzzle and takes off his hardened leather helmet. He shouts over his shoulder:

"He's here. Alive, more-or-less. Come quick, you guys must see what these bandits reduced him to."

He cracks a superior smile. Yeah, okay. They'll definitely have their fun with this. Seeing me taken down all of the possible notches in the world will absolutely make their day. It's a drop in the bucket if they end up helping me out. One detail truly sticks with me, though. Were they looking for me?

Three more coyotes come in, one by one. My brain gets to work. For once, I critically care about them. There's the female with the darker gray fur. She swears a lot trying to fit in with her male comrades as one of the very rare women in our line of work. Umm... Johalem! That's her name! Then the one that's too small not to have fox in his bloodline, with the yellow-beige coat and long ears. He never says a word. Diril? Daryl? No, that's not it. At last comes in Karl, the leader of the troupe. Mottled brown and gray. Elegant from the outside, at least for a coyote, but that's merely to hide his ruthless nature. I know that. Still, fuck if I don't find every last one of them beautiful.

They share the same reaction: they freeze at the sheer reality of my debasement, and then they grin all fangs out, poking and giving each other looks.

"I mean, is this real?" laughs the guy who found me first.

-- Looks fucking real to me, man, says Johalem. Oh, shit! His smell!

-- What smell? hammers Karl. The only scent I catch on him is of croc sex.

-- So many different dicks, says the one who's name I can't remember. They've totally overpowered his scent. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Those stupid bandits broke him into their own personal boy toy, for the whole gang. That's what he's been doing for all this time? Riding bandit shafts? I can't even imagine.

Karl folds his arms, frowning.

-- Is he still there, though? He's not moving. Maybe they've completely removed his mind, or maybe he likes the attention, and he wants to stay here as a groveling submissive. Look at what he's wearing. That animal collar and those mitts; he could've taken those off. Could be that he's no more than a trained beast, now. They had months to work him, if he's been captured as long as we think.

Karl pauses, but I can't speak or make noises. I wait for them to decide what to do with me, fully offered.

"How the mighty has fallen. You in there, Elias? You're in a pretty bad shape, buddy. You got your ass well-trained, didn't you? Heh. Kitty won't be looking down on us anytime soon, with all the anal he's been doing. Got the taste of fat croc meat up your snout as well?"

The other coyotes suddenly give their boss an odd stare, and he appears to recoil guiltily as well. It seems they disapprove of something he said, but I can't figure out what for the life of me, so it might be something between them. The moment blows by and they're right back to relishing my disgrace.

-- Serves him right, I say, grins the red coyote. Now that I know he was getting gangbanged by common bandits, I wish we hadn't sought him out. I rather liked not having him hogging all the bounties, lately.

-- Isn't that the truth, Bastiem! eagerly approves Karl. An appropriate fate for him. We could always leave him here. I'm sure more bandits will swiftly move in this territory, and put him to good use.

I can't help but shiver. Not that. I think as hard as I can. Please, please, not that!

Johalem steps in, and faces her boss.

-- On the other hand, come on, we've busted our asses and spent weeks searching every dirt hole for that sorry reward. I, for one, don't want to leave empty-fucking-handed. Besides, do you really want to miss the opportunity to have Elias of Volarburg know you're the only reason he's not a spunk-filled sex slave for the rest of his life?

Karl and Bastiem nod slowly.

-- Girl, you make a solid point. What about you, Daric? What do you think we should do with our prize?

The small mute coyote walks up and crouches close to me. He places a firm hand over my neck and holds it. At first, I think it's just a show of domination, but the contact becomes warmer. An unknown voice erupts. It's everywhere, louder than anything I've ever heard, yet the sound doesn't hurt my ears. In fact, there's no sound at all, and the voice is soothing, enthralling, inviting.

Elias, are you with us? Do you hear me?

I want to answer it more than anything! I wish I could...

You can, dumbass. I'm in your mind.

Oh, hell yes! I remember, now! Daric, he's the group's mage, and he's powerful! He won several magical ability contests in the city over the years. I feel him shift proudly as I think these thoughts, rubbing my neck even more possessively than before. Fuck, I'm so happy that he's there! I don't even mind the intimate touching. He can play master if he wants. Hell, I wouldn't even mind him grabbing my-

Before I even finish formulating that thought, I feel his wordless grin as his other gauntleted hand lands and playfully owns my buttocks, exactly as I accidentally envisioned. His middle finger slides brazenly against my filthy anus. He's not shy.

Yeah, bitch. I'm that good. Anything else that you'd like me to do to you? Wow, you feel so utterly owned. They really did a number on you. Do you realize you're in such a state that you'd do anything I ordered you to, right now?

Yes, yes I do realize. It's the damn collar!

Collar? What about it?

I feel warm, and safe, and not alone. I know it's not the curse either, because the curse never affected my thoughts before. I want to tell him, I want to tell him everything. He rubs me more. My real ears inform me that the others are laughing as I begin to squirm pleasingly in his hands, but that doesn't matter a bit. He can help. I don't have to be a slave forever, all I have to do is tell him what's going on, and comply with every instruction he'll give me. Damn, I feel so fucking submissive, and so warm!

That's right, you feel subby. That's good. It's a side effect of my spell. Don't worry, and don't fight it. I can help you, and I will. You want to share what's going on anyway, and it'll be easier if you're mine, so accept me. It's simple. I'm in charge. Completely. Feels right, doesn't it?

Yes, it does feel right. Perfect, even. The spell doesn't matter. Daric can help. I relax. He's in charge. His fingers follow the shape of the brand on my rear, and he pats it gently. I'm doing good.

There we go. Ah, yes! The connection is much stronger, now. Well done, Elias. Tell me about that curse you mentioned.

I recall the cursed collar, and how I stupidly took it from a slain demon. How I can't disobey any direct order voiced at me while I wear it.

You did what!? Oh, kitty cat, you're such a numbskull. I mean, really? Okay, fine. So if we order you to talk and move around as you wish, you'll be able to do that?

He's correct.

See, the thing is, we kind of like the thought of you taking it doggy style for the rest of your life.

I get it, honestly. The coyotes and me, we're not friends, so I'll make it worth their while. I'll beg them properly, and behave exactly as they want me to, and completely let them have their fun. I'll do anything they ask, and I'll owe them forever afterwards. Please, they can't leave me like this. He should at least tell the others about the curse so they can make up their minds. They have to hurry. The crocs they defeated were only a small fraction of Trax's gang, and the others will return.

Don't worry about that. Getting caught by lowly thugs is your specialty, leonid, not ours. We'll beat them if they come. Tell me about their leader. I've heard this name before.

I think of Trax the Fat and the fifteen year old bounty on him.

Trax the Fat? That ugly mug? That bounty's been on the Bounty Office's wall for so long I thought it was a painting!

Well, I reflect on how much weight he's lost, but it's definitely him.

Lost weight? Aww, did you develop a crush on master? Won't you miss his big cock?

Daric is just being mean, but I'm compelled to answer that I won't.

Alright, I'll help you, but first I have some questions, and you'll be honest!

The coyote is triumphantly groping my neck, and I know that I will. I really need his assistance, and I'll do anything.

Good that you understand your place, Elias. This pleases me. So, how many times did he ejaculate in you?

What the fuck? Why would he ask something like that? I'm so shocked I shake the comfy submission a bit.

I want to know. I want to know how many times Trax the Fat squirted his vile juice deep into the rectum of Elias of Volarburg, while his obedient leonid slave waited for more.

I have no idea, of course. It's a ridiculous question, and I've never kept count of something disgusting like this. It's a lot.

Best guess?

Freaking hell! I don't believe this. Okay, if he absolutely needs to know, I'd imagine something like forty to sixty times.

So Trax the Fat alone fucked you to completion, as his anal slave, at LEAST forty times. In, what, three months, give or take?

Shame fills me, closely followed by anger. But yes, okay, yes!

Amazing. What about oral? Did he ever deep throat you?

Of course he fucking did!

Calm down or you'll go back to that sooner than you think.

The mage spanks me once. It doesn't even hurt, but I calm waaay down. I feel like I should apologize, or rather --yes, I do apologize. I'm not used to speaking with my thoughts. Terrified of the consequences of my outburst, I make a concerted effort to sink low into the easy, warm sensation of belonging to Daric, once more. He can ask anything, and I'll reveal it to him. Daric should know, he should be on top if he's willing to help. It's fair. I deeply hope that'll be enough to appease him. I can't risk being abandoned here because of any remains of my pride.

What juicy fear. That kind of power, I admit it's getting a rise out of me. So, back to business. He made you gulp all of his jizz, mouthful after mouthful, yeah? Or came straight down your throat? How many times did you dutifully swallow it all? Rough estimate.

I feel brutally humbled and chastised, and I try to focus on the answer alone, which is about the same as the anal. Forty to sixty times. I can't stop myself thinking I'm sure the defeated humility I'm feeling is delightful to the coyote.

It is exquisite, true enough. The best part is how much you're aware that you need me, and that I can do whatever the heck I want. Alright, Elias. Final question: while you were brutally used and discarded by these large crocs, how many times did you orgasm from being their broken whore?

That one is easy. It's exactly zero.

Seriously? With all the physical stimulation? I mean, even if you didn't want it...

Slowly, I let the thought of my chastity cage slip into my mind. I simply wasn't allowed to come. It's not visible right now because I'm lying down. Daric's magical voice keeps quiet for a brief period.

They bang you day in, day out, and you're not even allowed the slightest bit of sexual satisfaction from it?

I distinctly remembered being taught that my pleasure was Trax's property too, and that I only lived to serve.

That's cold.

The mental link is suddenly severed, and I'm back on the floor, without any reassuring sense of being with the surprisingly talkative silent mage. I look up to him pleadingly, but he's shaking into a noiseless chuckle. He stands and gently flips me to my side with his boot, revealing my locked penis and balls, and the writing above them for the benefit of his friends. They explode in merry laughter and comments.

-- Croc property! Fitting.

-- I guess Elias was a naughty fucking pet! Needed some restraint.

-- Bad case of the blue balls, eh boy?

Karl bends and pulls on my collar.

"Come on, slave, up. Give us a better view of that device between your legs."

The coyotes are surprised when I docilely stand for them and spread my legs to exhibit my trapped male parts, save for Daric, who simply watches on with a curious smile.

-- Hey, he moved, this time. What's up with that? asks Bastiem.

Daric points to my collar, and claps his hands once. A glow shines behind his eyes just like for true sight spells, but it must be a more advanced version, because what he sees is shared with everyone, even me. We all look at the knot of dark red tendrils squirming and lashing where my collar should be. Shortly after, the vision is gone, and my collar is back to looking like an ordinary animal choker. The canines look at their mage. He makes two swift signs with his hands: a triangle with a broken side, and a chain that he mimics by interlocking his indexes. His party all go "oh" and "ah" in comprehension.

-- Obedience curse! says Karl. I see.

He faces me.

"You may speak at will."

At long damn last! A massive weight is lifted from my body and soul. I nearly want to fall at Karl's paws and kiss them. I can speak, like a real person!

-- My god, guys, thank you, thank you so much! I can't believe you're here! Please, we can't stay! There's a trap right there that leads to a hidden hideout. There might be one bandit or two left in there, but what you defeated was only a tiny fraction of this clan! There's around twenty of them, and they could be back any minute!

-- Hold your horses, says Bastiem with a vicious glare. We still haven't decided what we're going to do with you.

The coyote leader, however, quickly spots the hatch under the rug, and snaps his fingers toward it, throwing his minions a meaningful look.

-- Jo, Bast.

The two mercenaries draw their weapons and throw the hatch open. They descend together to secure the underground area. Daric and Karl stay behind, with me. They don't seem stressed out. Daric descends to one knee and closely examines the chastity device. He pokes and prods at it with amusement.

"Sounds like their control was tight," comments Karl. "How long has it been since you've had an erection?"

I flush.

-- They-they've never let me. B-but that doesn't matter! Listen to me! They're smarter than ordinary bandits, and they're dangerous. Trust me, we don't want to get caught! I can't go back to this! I don't want to be a sex slave forever! It's insane, you can't imagine!

Daric playfully squeezes my plump balls, trapped by the metal ring of the cage. I squint and endure the slight discomfort passively. He turns and grins to his boss. They love this. Karl dismisses my warnings. I don't get how they can be so calm about this!

-- Poor male. Stop freaking out about this. There's no way we're getting beaten by bandits, even if they should return. We must take our time, here, and agree on an appropriate fate for you. The way I see it, this camp is ours to loot, and since you belonged to the bandits, you're part of our spoils.

As he says this, Karl's guys return from the hideout and announce it is clear, and filled with gear and goods. Karl smiles, but he strangely doesn't look very enthusiastic. He cares more about me. In fact, they all do.

-- I know I know, I say. You win, alright? You can have your fun, and I'll be as low and humble as you want me. I'll beg and kneel, anything. Please, let's just not do it here. This sector is a damn forgotten hole! None of the street militias come around this place. If they come back and beat you guys, trust me, we'll NEVER be found and-

I stop, as an intriguing thought invades me.

"Wait, how did you guys find me?"

A sudden discomfort. They glance at each other. Karl takes charge.

-- The guild posted a reward at the Bounty Office, when they realized you were missing. We wanted the money, that's it.

-- But how did you locate this place? I could've been anywhere. Why look in bandit streets, of all places? It wasn't a likely place for someone like me to disappear.

-- You're telling me, kitty. We searched high and low for your spunky ass! We started with more dangerous areas, and then only the city was left.

-- Why? Sorry for asking, but you said the reward wasn't worth it. You were considering leaving me here for the heck of it. And who paid for the bounty? The guild doesn't post bounties at the office, civilians do. Nobles, merchants. People with money.

The silent discomfort grows even more, but then Karl steels himself. He acknowledges the nonsense with a nod, and suddenly relaxes. A visage of guilty gratification appears.

-- Alright. The guild doesn't have money, and that's why the bounty really does suck. Maybe the reward was an excuse. Maybe, somewhere inside, we were really hoping something exactly like this would happen. Find you alive, beaten and crushed, and be the ones to decide what we want to happen to you next. Teach you respect, make you plead nicely. Make you acknowledge your place.

I nod enthusiastically. I have to placate those dogs hard, make sure they won't leave me for the crocs.

-- Yes, absolutely! I'm your bottom, and you're in total control. There's nothing I can do but obey utterly and hope you'll be generous. You can even take the collar off, it won't change-

-- We're not taking the collar off, interrupts Bastiem.

-- We like the collar on you, adds Johalem as she goes around me. We don't trust leonid fucks. We'd prefer them all with pretty collars like yours. You give them any advantage, and they don't ever let go. So, we keep our advantages too.

They're angry at leonid dominion. It's a deep resentment. The last, last, last thing I want is to unearth it at the moment.

-- Okay, collar on! I'm all yours! Just please have mercy, guys, and watch for the crocs.

Johalem pulls my tail as she circles behind me.

-- Any of you boys want to add their juice to this obedient bum?

-- Hmm, ponders Karl as he strokes the side of my muzzle. Breeding Elias as my own slave. Tempting, but I prefer my whores to be clean.

The other males chuckle and nod.

"No, I think I have a better idea. You may move around, but you may not remove the collar, or attempt to free yourself from our control in any way. I have a quest for you, to help teach you the value of hard work. You'll go out into the city, as a slave, and you will earn us one single silver and return here."

-- One silver? But I have nothing to sell.

-- Then, you'll have to work for it.

-- I'm naked, and collared... and with those mitts...

-- Think about that, Elias. Is it a problem, or the solution?

Mean, wrathful expressions. I suddenly get it. They want me to sell myself to peasants; to make me a public bitch as a final humiliation to prove their complete superiority. I was truly hoping to avoid something like this. I cringe. My heart beats louder at the daunting and stressful prospect of having to go and convince villagers to fuck me while the coyotes watch my pathetic performance, but it sure as hell beats remaining a reptile sex pet. I must do it. I tell myself that it'll just be a few more moments of indignity to satisfy the coyotes' egos.

"Get to work!" shouts Karl as he slaps my buttocks with his sheathed sword.

There's a quiet little bakery next to the hideout, popular with the locals. The crocs leave them alone because they love the meat pies. I head there while the streets aren't too busy. A few heads turn, but I manage to mostly sneak unnoticed. My current captors follow from a distance, sadistically reveling in what's about to happen. They discreetly enter the shop behind me.

The owner of the bakery is a leonid, like myself. Luckily, he only has one client buying bread. They both turn to me and gape. The collar. The mitts. My dick and balls trapped in cold iron, as exposed as the rest of my nude body. Their eyes linger on the brand on my ass marking me as cattle, and it appears to relax them a bit. This sight makes more sense to them if I'm a slave, though it's clear that they've never seen that kind of dishonor imposed to one of their own. They mutely read the writing above my locked genitals, and then they frown as they finally fixate on my shaved mane. They disapprove. Strongly. Even an enslaved male leonid isn't expected to go maneless. As if I don't know that. When the shop owner speaks, brushing his own lengthy tan mane uncomfortably with his hand, he doesn't address me, but the coyotes.

-- What are you doing in my shop? Are you the owners of this...

His sentence trails off. He doesn't want to acknowledge me as a leonid. Leonid slaves are practically unheard of, and male sex slaves even less. He's ashamed by proxy.

-- Talk to the slut, says Karl. We're strictly here as guardians to ensure everything happens the way it should.

The distaste is obvious in the baker's face. He wraps a few breads in a cloth and shoves them in the arms of his client, though the other feline doesn't leave, fascinated by the offensive display of leonid submission. The shop owner turns to me.

-- The hell do you want? Are you a criminal?

I have no clue what I'm doing, or how to handle this, but Karl's command to not do anything to be freed resounds in my mind. I can't say anything that I believe will drive civilians to help me.

-- Uh, yes sir. I was caught and I'm being disciplined by my new masters for my crimes. Please, I need to earn one silver.

The civilians go wide-eyed.

-- One silver? That's a lot of money! What in the world can a male like you do that's worth one silver? Get outta here!

-- Wait, please! I... I'll...

I take a breath to beat the shame. I hate this. The coyotes snicker toward each other. My muzzle feels scalding hot, but I have to. I go to my knees and I look up to the shopkeeper, pleadingly. I raise my mitts under my collar like a wretched begging dog. I try to remember who I truly am. I'm an adventurer, not a slave. This is temporary, and soon it'll be forgotten.

"I'll suck your cock. I'll spread my cheeks and let you ride my ass. Only a silver, sir. I swear you'll enjoy it! Please, I need to prove that I've learned obedience! I'll follow any order."

-- I'm a respectable businessman! Get out!

The angry leonid suddenly runs around the counter and shoves into me with kicks and grunts. I fall down on my back, twisting under the rain of hurtful boot strikes to my naked shoulders and back, scurrying toward the exit on all fours. The mercenaries burst in laughter, splitting to let me through as I rush out in full defeat, with one last kick up my buttocks sending my flying out of the shop. The coyotes follow and the door closes heavily behind us. The commotion attracted attention, and a few passersby stare toward my enslaved beaten form as I lie in the street and begin to recuperate. My mind races. How am I supposed to do this? I drag myself to Karl for help, and look to him expectantly, but he slowly shakes his head with a terrible smile.

-- Earn, pussycat.

I glance at Johalem and Bastiem, but find little other than wrathful fun at my expense. Only Daric patiently crouches to one knee and pats my head, with two or three gentle strokes.

-- I don't, I don't know how to sell myself.

The short mage silences me with an imperious gesture. Then he points behind me. I follow his finger and turn around, and right there, the client that was in the bakery stands over me holding his bread. He's very tall, middle-aged, with a few graying streaks in his mane. Well dressed and fit, of course, since he's a leonid, but not overly muscular for our kind. A trader, undoubtedly. He eyes me down with crushing superiority, or maybe it's just me that feels that.

-- Haughty, wasn't he, for someone who lives in such a trashy area? he playfully asks. Well, I'm not a respectable businessman. I'll sell anything to anyone, and I move around a lot, so I don't have a local reputation to preserve. Using a leonid slave, that seems wrong, but it's also a very intriguing opportunity. I'll give you half a bronze piece for a pawjob with those adorable mitts of yours, and letting me ejaculate in your face.

My heart sinks. I can already envision it.

-- But, sir, that's only a tenth of a silver...

-- If I'm satisfied, I might buy another part of you with which to amuse myself next. Up your reward to a full bronze piece.

With the tip of his boot, he gives my caged genitals a few small bumps. He reads the inscription on by pubis.

"Crocodiles own you, then? You smell of them. How abject. I've never humiliated another feline before, but you appear already broken. Do you take additional orders while you submit?"

From behind, Bastiem interjects before I can say a word.

-- Oh yes, he does. He obeys everything.

Karl and his gang laugh. Gently, I curb my head and pull my ears back fearfully to the other leonid, inviting mildness through absence of any challenge to his dominance. He very obviously likes that, but with the way he grabs my collar with his free hand and shoves my face into his crotch, I doubt it'll help. I can smell his musk faintly through the thick pants. We're still in the middle of the street.

-- Shouldn't we head somewhere pri-

-- No. I'll own you right here, in front of everyone, or you won't get the honor of receiving my loads, slave.

He marks a pause, throwing down a condescending pointed glance.

"And no money."

He knows I have no choice but to take whatever conditions he dictates, so I swallow what's left of my crushed male pride, and I offer my wrapped paws toward the bulge in the tall trader's pants. Two of the few villagers walking the desolated street stop to witness, recognizing that something uniquely vulgar is about to happen when they see my maneless nude shape and flattened ears.

"I thought you were supposed to be a pet, or something?" sneers my buyer, motioning toward the cursed collar around my neck. "So get down. A pet shouldn't be standing up to its master."

I flush at the gasps around me when I descend to my knees. I try to focus only on what I have to do. I've done way worse for the crocs, everyday. Nobody moves when the trader throws his bread aside and undoes his belt. His hand plunges into his velvet pants and emerges with his rich hard cock. I get to work, squeezing the long spiny shaft and its large, excited head between my pitiful mitts, aiming it at my face. I hear the coyotes moving closer for a better view of my complete debasement. Karl speaks, and his voice is thick with triumph and satisfaction.

-- Look at that. Turns out leonids aren't only good at handling silver.

A few more passersby stop, mostly non-leonids, since this isn't a wealthy neighborhood by any means. They chuckle, even some felines who also typically enjoy privileged status under leonid rule. Turns out no one likes when someone else is winning. My buyer grunts, faintly amused by the reaction to the disgrace imposed to me. He doesn't care if one of us goes down as long as he's on top. I keep loyally squeezing his dick. Back and forth, back and forth.

-- Hmmm. This isn't good enough. Kiss my rod, slave, then lick it well.

-- Hey, but this isn't what we-

I interrupt myself when the collar forces me to comply, and I press my lips against the musky wet tip of the trader's erection. I kiss it hungrily in front of everyone, and then I lap the entire length of the shaft's underside, precisely as commanded. A blowjob should be worth a silver piece in and of itself in a brothel -- at least half a silver in the streets -- but it's a tad late for negotiating now. I've already got cock in my mouth, and the trader presses behind my head to force it deeper.

-- You'll suck as you're told, slave, and I'll pay what I want. Better put your soul into it. You don't want me disappointed. Keep going with your mitts, too. I like it.

I submit and service the length of the dick with my wrapped hands, and its puffy head with my mouth while a humble crowd continues to gather. I close my eyes and get the job done as efficiently as I can, tonguing the abrasive sensitive tiny spines, and rubbing and moving that trader's dick around in my mouth as I accelerate with my hands.

"Ooh, yeah! What a great maw. Your owners trained you appropriately, they did! Ooomph!"

Out of nowhere, he spurts his hot seed far down my mouth with an aggressive moan, and the surprise makes me choke and cough as I accidentally swallow a bit. My "client" shocks the crowd with the dirty finish he promised, pulling out with intense satisfaction and stroking and pumping his erection as he comes all over my face. I kneel there panting and taking it all, used, mouth gaping, muzzle and tongue covered in semen. The public quickly recovers from this outrageous display. The few leonids turn and leave in disgust, their vile curiosity satiated, but the rest of the downtrodden villagers look rather vindicated. They liked seeing the tables turned, and bottomless degradation being suffered by one of the masters of this city, for a change. My guts twist as I grasp that I probably won't have to search far for my next clients. That should be a good thing, right?

I open my left eye slightly, since the other is sticky with come. The trader drops the half bronze penny to the floor in front of me, as well as a glare of pure condescension. I sound more whiny than I'd like.

-- You said you'd give me another one if I was good... rent another part...

-- Yes, but you were too good, he snarks. I had no idea destroying the spirit of one of my own kind would be so rewarding. I'm tapped out. Tell you what, though. You pick that coin up, present it to me, and thank me for fucking your mouth and creaming your face, in front of all these people, and I'll give you another. Show us how broken you are, slave bitch.

Under the jeers of the witnesses, I miserably drag myself to the coin and try to pick it up with my mitts. The crowd roars with amusement as I fail the impossible task. Discovering new depths in which to sink, and the fact that there isn't any limit to the debasements that I'm willing to accept for a bronze penny, I bend low on all fours and pick it up with my teeth. I rise to my knees once more, which hurt from all the crawling on the stony street, and obediently present the coin. It's harder to pronounce with the coin between my teeth, so I speak slowly.

-- Thank you for putting me to good use, sir. May I have another penny, please?

The leonid merchant laughs out loud.

-- Damn, now you're going to make me look bad. I didn't think you could do it. I don't have another penny on me.

That asshole simply turns and leaves, still laughing like he's just heard the best joke in the world. The coyotes let him. I have little time to bask in that betrayal. New voices rise from the crowd. One of them addresses the coyotes, who are soaking in the scene like it's their birthday, for all of them, at the same time.

-- Hey, I've got some small change. What will that slut do for a copper? Will he do anal?

Karl folds his arms with a smile. They all know what the answer is.

-- Ask him. What about it, Elias? Will you do anal for these kind folks for a copper? You do need to earn a silver, so every little bit helps.

Receiving confirmation from my guardians that screwing me over the price they're offering is acceptable inspires the wrathful and increasingly excited crowd.

-- I bet we can get even more, says someone. Let's go to Otam the Brewer. The bull hates these damn cats! He'll surely give us a free keg or two in exchange for giving this one a rough ass-fucking!

-- Shit, yeah, he's right!

The idea begins to make consensus. I look to the mercenaries desperately, then to the cruel mob, then back to the coyotes, with the coin still in my mouth. I want to throw myself at their mercy and beg, beg until they spare me this. My ex-rivals appear to read it in my expression, even under the thick feline juice. Karl gestures for me to approach. I crawl for him. I'm his loyal dog. It's not him who crouches and gently leads me even closer by the collar, however. It's Daric. The silent mage has me sit at their paws, in the middle of their group. The four are quite attuned, on the same page. I offer them the sad bronze coin that I earned. Karl fiddles with it. I wait in place while he prepares to speak. He nods, and takes a deep contented breath.

-- Did you assume this would be easy? A silver coin, right. It's not a lot. You thought you could get it over with quick, didn't you? Leonids are used to getting money easily. But you're not quite fully a leonid anymore.

A wide silent smile cracks open Daric's muzzle, revealing shiny sharp fangs, as he strokes the back of my maneless neck.

"See how easy it is to fall? You're one of us, now. No advantages, no influence. Perhaps you thought people would pay through the nose for a nice time with you, given how yielding you are. Assholes on top always think it's about pride. If the poor unfortunates only accepted their places and learned to grovel properly, instead of turning bandit or taking dirty jobs on the side, they'd make it. You truly believe begging helps."

Karl turns to his friends.

"What about you guys? Do you think we'd be paid more for jobs if we begged the leonids? Would you do it, Bastiem?"

-- Heck yes, I would, coldly answered the reddish coyote. Sounds like a good deal to me. Would you humiliate yourself for double pay, Jo?

-- Shit, I'd strip dance for double pay, man. Hook me to a pole, it's show time for the cats.

The mercenaries laugh darkly around me. Daric pushes my chin up so I have to stare straight at his boss while Karl crouches down to my level. Close, but not quite close enough to touch my sullied nose with his own.

-- Needing something more means you get less, bitch. The more desperate you are, the more others will take advantage, because only the defenseless are safe to exploit. Take from the people below you; that's the one true path to power. All the rich folks know it. But we don't do that shit. We'll go against the law. We'll steal from the leonid overlords before we fuck over our own, or the foxes, or even the goddamned crocs, as twisted as they are. Begging marks you for abuse, and yet it's all you have. Live it, slut. Get a taste of the absurdity. Now, go. I believe you still have ninety percent of a silver to corrupt yourself for, if you want your freedom. Chase that vain hope.

I head back and, dutifully, I terminally debase myself. Karl's prediction proves wholly accurate. As they realize they can offer less and less while demanding more and more, the villagers gladly seize the opportunity to rail me hard into my place, which apparently is below rock bottom. They take me to the bull brewer, first, and he's thrilled to see a broken, locked up leonid brought before him, prepped to receive his massive meaty shaft. He shoves me on my back, harshly stretching open my legs, and pounds my rear so hard my chastity cage rings with every hit of his waist.

The cursed collar does overtime when the crowd leaves with barrels of ale, and drinks its inhibitions away. Debasing me becomes a party, and soon they all forget they were even supposed to throw money at me, since I obey their orders despite my protestations. I don't even bother to protest for long. I suck their dicks and loyally push my ass back into them as they fuck me deep, spank me, make me lick their feet, and spread their jizz over the entire surface of my body, under the watchful eyes of Karl's band. The debauchery goes on and on. There is no depth to which I don't sink. What their twisted imagination comes up with, I enact. Unspeakable, unclean things.

When night begins to loom, the masses have their fill of my dishonor and soggy holes, some more than once. The sadistic festive ambiance calms down and people disperse faster than they accumulate over the advancing hours. Eventually, the coyote boss announces that it's enough, and that I've learned my proper station. I crawl back to his feet and meekly offer what little more I've earned from catching the ropes of my very last "client" with my wide gaping mouth. Any resistance has been utterly worked out of me, and I simply await judgment in defeat, aware that I've failed to gather a full silver. I've earned roughly three quarters of it in small currency for the coyotes.

"Alright," says Karl. "We've discussed it, and decided that we'll show mercy to your pussy ass. We'll turn you in to the guild, but we want everyone to know what happened, and what you've been reduced to. So, as a final humiliation, you will be our mule and carry our loot from the hideout, naked, all the way to the town center, so that the rest of the guild and your slimy leonid friends will see no one's immune to a complete disgrace. Not even Elias of Volarburg. That way, you shouldn't be much competition for us anymore. Take off his collar."

I collapse lower on all fours with relief. It's over. I accept the final price. I accept everything. I don't care if my adventuring career ends in this indignity; all I want is to go home and be free and safe from these fucking crocs!

-- Thank you! Thank you, you guys! Just, please, we really shouldn't go back there! The bandits will surely have returned and-

Johalem sighs with exasperation.

-- Will you goddamned shut up about this? There's no risk, you pussy, none! We can handle a few bandits.

I go silent, because I'm afraid of pissing them off, and driving them to change their minds. They bring me to a back alley, where Bastiem fetches a bucket of water and pours it over me as a pretend bath. I shake as the water clears some of the sperm coating me. When I stop spraying water around like a wet animal, Daric carefully approaches and... and...

He removes the damned collar.

I can't believe it. The sensation of wind on my neck. It's really over. I breathe free for the first time in what felt like years of utter mindless servitude.

-- Guys, I mean it. I know you don't like me at all. Thank you. I'll always owe you.

-- You're not off the hook yet, Bastiem says. You have a nice stripped walk to take. We'll load you like pack cattle. We're making a statement. Try to run before then, and I'll cut you down, I swear.

-- I won't. You can have the win on your own terms. I'll do as I'm told. I just want to be let go. Please. Well, if we're going back to the hideout anyway, I'd kind of like to get the key for... you know.

I glance down at what's between my legs. The coyote leader nods.

-- You got it.

Karl gestures for the party to follow, and I go along with them. I let the coyotes tie up my wrists in my back and rope my neck to lead me around, though they don't need to tug to get me in step. They allow the hateful stuffed leather mitts to come off, and Daric pats my back one more time as we get moving. I'm not sure if it's meant to be soothing, or if it's just groping.

We don't have to roam the evening streets for long before Trax's forge appears in its familiar dead end, on the edge of town. Behind it are hills and stretches of land yet untamed. I peer nervously as we approach, but I can spot no activity, and no one discreetly slipping back in from the hills. Either the crocs aren't back, or they're hiding inside.

We stop at a distance and hide behind a low wall. Johalem keeps me in place with a strong hand on my shoulder, while Karl sends Bastiem to check out the hideout. He returns after a minute and shrugs.

-- Ain't no one in there.

Cautiously, I ensure that what I'm about to say sounds like a humble suggestion.

-- Alright, but it may be best if we move quick and don't linger. I know you four can take care of yourselves, but no one likes a twenty against four, right? There's really a lot of these reptiles. It's a huge clan.

-- You would know, scoffs Bastiem, given that you've lifted tail and squealed intimately for each of them.

I stare down to my paws in submission. I'm not trying to provoke him.

-- Yes, exactly.

Karl cuts the discussion short.

-- We won't be long. Grab what you like and what seems to be worth the most, and we'll load it all onto our nice mule here. Daric, you locate the key for Elias' balls. If he's a good mule, maybe we let him unlock them in comfort and privacy, instead of sitting bare ass on some blacksmith's table for hours while yet another man handles his junk.

They snicker quietly, giving me a few teasing shoves with their elbows, and then we return to the hideout. Outside, I notice instantly that the bodies of Joknar and the other crocs from the attack earlier are gone. A bolt of panic.

-- Shit! They did return and grabbed their fallen friends! We must get out of here, now!

-- Shut the fuck up mule, warns an out-of-patience Karl. They probably saw their base was discovered, took their dead and wounded and skedaddled. They didn't even gather any of their gear in the rush. They're never coming here again. Trust us, we know bandits, okay? We've worked for them often enough. Besides, we can take twenty bandits easy with the four of us. We're most definitely NOT ending up as croc playthings. That's your gig, bitch. One more sound and we're leaving you there bound, displayed and collared as a neat free slave for the next gang that'll settle around here to collect and enjoy. Got it?

I nod hurriedly, and withdraw. Karl forces me to my knees as they make multiple trips to and from the bandit base, wrapping various weapons and supplies, and packing them in large cotton bags that they tie around my strong shoulders, and then on my back when there's no more room. It takes considerably longer than I'd prefer. I can't believe the risk they're making us take! At least, Daric proudly returns with the key, and at this sight, my desperate dick twitches bitterly. The mage caresses my chin with the small metallic object, and then makes it disappear -- undoubtedly in one of his sleeves -- as a joke. I'm really in no mood for magic tricks.

At last, when they're about done, the coyotes regroup, and Bastiem heads behind the building searching for a long flexible branch under a few isolates trees. When he returns, he suddenly uses it to strike my buttocks, harshly. The surprise gets a yell out of me.

-- Augh!

-- Hahaha! Up, mule. It's time to move. Up, I said!

He strikes again and I push myself to my paws fast, with two streaks of fire stamped on my rump. I struggle to maintain balance with the heavy weight they strapped all over my body. The effort extracts grunts out of me, but I want to show I'm cooperating! I am! I start moving at the slightest pull on the rope tied to my neck. The loot shifts threateningly, but I manage to keep it in place. It's attached solidly enough, for now. Karl ceases leading me forward, and I halt. Dang, I'm already feeling some burn in my shoulders. Looking at some sore muscles for later.

"Aw, what a nice work beast we have."

-- Wait a fucking minute! exclaims Johalem. That's not fair! If Bast gets to smack him, then I want to hold his rope and lead him around.

Karl sighs and hands over the rope, glaring at the sky.

-- Children.

The dark gray coyote grins fiendishly, and wraps my rope solidly around her hand. Then, she takes a long dark cloth tied around her arm guard and ties it around my head, covering my eyes.

-- A good mule goes wherever he's lead. He doesn't need to see. He trusts.

The world goes black, and it seems like I hear their voices more clearly; that I feel the wind over my body like I never did before. A new tug. I comply. We're moving out!

-- Ready for your final parade, Elias? asks Karl's voice. Alright then. It's later than I expected. Let's head straight to our place to drop the loot first and stay the night. Maybe enjoy the company of our pussycat ourselves before we give him up. We'll march him to the Bounty Office in the morning, right when it opens. Let everyone admire what a prized slave we found. Tail up, leonid slut. We want people to understand the role you've been taught for the last three months.

I don't even have a second before Bastiem yells and strikes.

-- Tail!

I lift my long feline tail high with a jump start.

"Now, pick up the pace!"

Another entirely needless hit punishes my already docile and reddening round butt to get me up to speed. It's harder to comply instantly when I can't see and can't assess what they're about to order, but that's exactly what they wanted. They like it. I'm their loyal, mindless beast of burden, exposed to all. It doesn't matter, nor the fact that they decided to add another night of total obsequiousness and sexual degradation. We've left. It's done! I sense the fresh stones of the streets under my paws. We're safe, now, and I'm truly relieved for the first time since I put on that horrible demonic collar. Even should they decide to entertain themselves with me some more, the coyotes will turn me in eventually, that's for sure. They're not stuck in a hideout all day, bored and horny like the crocs were, and they do want the reward. They'll swiftly tire of their sport with me, so I play along perfectly.

-- Hell, guys, what we talked about earlier? It gave me ideas. Let's make him pole dance for us tonight.

-- I'm not sure about that, Jo, says Karl. I doubt Elias can pole dance. It'll be pathetic.

-- Yeah, man, exactly. Great for a laugh! Just leave him shackled up to the pole and watch him muddle through. Bast can discipline him with his stick when the performance is subpar.

-- I'm down for her idea, interjects Bastiem in sudden approval.

They keep discussing and toying with ideas of what to do with me while we go through busier streets toward the town center, and turn quite a few times, provoking gasps from the more important citizens at the view of a leonid being treated this way. The coyotes make sure to strike my rear and loudly call me their mule and other insulting names when people are around, making a show of my unconditional submission, but after a while witnesses become rarer and I cease to hear their presences completely, probably due to the late hour. That's about when I sense Daric nearing me once more. The mage lays a hand on my bowed neck, as before, and the mystical warmth begins to radiate through my flesh and mind. He's there, but he doesn't speak with his soothing, authoritative voice. The white silence is deafening, controlling, making me safe and owned with him. I assume he's just there to appreciate my delicious feelings of subjugation and helplessness at their hands.

We keep walking and I offer him everything he wants. How much I know I'm their thing for as long as they like. How sexually submissive I could be to them. How blindly I follow, and pridelessly I accept the strikes to my ass. It lasts a long time. Daric goes on, wordlessly savoring his dominion. And then, out of nowhere:

You messed up bad. But that new attitude will serve you. You should hang on to it. Sorry. Nothing I can do, kitty cat. Not today, at least. Good luck.

I don't understand, but I'm sensing a terrifying emotion from Daric. Something's extremely wrong, and a part of him is genuinely sorry for me, while another has been sadistically looking forward to this moment since the first minute. The scent of deception is everywhere, but Daric disconnects before more of his own thoughts seep in. Johalem slows down in front of me.

-- Well, here we are puss, she ominously says. Your destination. Your new life. Could feel a tad familiar.

I get agitated. I don't even know why yet, but I'm scared. The coyotes are tightening around me, hands land on my tired shoulders and grab my arms in my back. They're clearly expecting me to resist soon, and preparing for it. I hear muffled laughter. Multiple presences begin to shift as we come to a complete stop, wherever we are, we're not alone. Oh, fuck. They force me to my knees and begin to remove the packs from my back. Karl speaks boisterously.

-- There he is, presenting Elias the Slave. We took him for a neat cruise around town, but I'm afraid he failed spectacularly.

They rip the blindfold away and I see wide reptilian toothy grins, eyes filled with malevolence. Joknar, Trax, the entire bandit clan stands in front of me, even those I thought were dead. We're right back at the forge hideout. We circled back while I was blinded. My eyes dart around, barely taking anything in. I glare at the coyotes.

-- No! Guys, no, please! What did you do?

Joknar walks up. Trax lets him proceed, his rough gray arms folded over his ribs. The yellowish young brute is angrier than I've ever seen him.

-- Shut up, slave! I told you! I literally told you this was a loyalty test! Fucking idiot! You belong to us! Us!

He strikes his muscular chest with his arm. The loud thump resounds in my emptying mind. Trax coolly steps forth to explain.

-- I wanted to know whether or not you were ready. You'd been so tame and pleasing, but with the collar on, there's no way to tell whether you've accepted your fate or not, so we hired some friends from the outside. It seems you need a lot more training and stricter discipline before we can remove the collar. Disappointing. You were supposed to beg the coyotes to leave you here, where you belong. They gave you ample opportunities. You were also definitely not supposed to give away our secret hideout.

Karl burst in callous laughter.

-- A reward from the guild for your stretched ass? Ha! Like they give a shit. They post bounties for a fee. They don't care who takes the jobs or not. Besides, do we look like we have the luxury of working for nothing? Trax paid us handsomely for this job, and offered the chance to play with you a bit, teach you a lesson or two. You swallowed the bait whole like it was crocodile cock. Most fun I've had during work for a damn long time!

So there was never any hope. My entire future is to be an obedient bandit sex slave. I should've accepted it earlier. I shouldn't have dared to think for myself. I regret it. I regret it more than I've ever regretted anything. Another mistake. Now, I'll pay for it.

Joknar forces my head down so that I stare at my pubis, at what's written on me.

-- Just croc property, he says. It's simple. Easy. Got it? You obey everything, all the time, and you do nothing else. You don't talk back, you don't ask for favors, you don't discuss orders. That's what this means.

He gives a small kick to the brand permanently imprinted on my rump.

They focus, and in their superior eyes, each of them, it's like they contemplate every detail of my fate laid out naked before them. The overgrown reptiles and coyotes watch as I get it. I can barely speak. It occurs to me that I recognize that scene from the past. Me and others of my kind, gazing and nodding knowingly at a slave that finally grasps they're housebroken, and stops being troublesome. Sometimes, you can tell when a captive gives up. Suddenly, I know how crushing this feels.

-- ... I'm croc property. I only obey.

Bastiem claps in appreciation.

-- Haha! There, that's how you handle a leonid. Keep him locked up, boys. This one deserves to crawl, obey and hop on hard cocks.

-- He will, snaps Trax in a decisive tone. Speaking of obedience...

Trax gestures. At this moment, Karl hands the cursed collar back to the crocs, and Joknar makes damn sure to show it to me as he slowly closes in, detaches it, and reattaches it firmly around my neck. I let this terminal degradation happen, and then Trax throws the hated mitts at me. They wrap my hands and paws as tightly as they ever were.

"Now, he'll be silent and dutiful once more. We've been much too lenient with this pet. Male pussies need to know the consequences of disappointing their owners. A severe correction is required so that he won't ever forget himself again."

The bandits grin in cruel anticipation, and begin to take me away. I follow on my hands and knees, unthinking, knowing that, whatever they planned, I'll very soon be trembling and crying for my defiance. Daric slides up to his boss quickly and places a hand over his shoulder. He and Karl intently lock eyes in what I know is a soundless conversation. He smiles.

-- You know, says Karl to the croc boss, I think your loyalty problem with this sad pussycat is about motivation. He was a completely submissive boy to us when he thought we'd reward him with his freedom. I'm sure you can think of a few ways that could keep him properly eager to please.

Daric playfully throws the key to my cage and Trax catches it in one precise swoop. The crocs thinks, rubs his chin as his eyes rest on the key.

-- Hmm. I like the way you're thinking, but I enjoy him locked up and leaking, blindingly needy and aware that he'll never get to come again.

Trax grabs my collar and shoves me down into the dirt, hard. I go down and whine subserviently, envisioning what he's just said.

"Never."

-- It doesn't have to be that, shrugs the coyote leader. You could take away some of his privileges.

The bandits that were heading away stop and turn, seemingly insulted at the idea that they may have been somehow too soft with me. Joknar scoffs.

-- Privileges?

-- There's always something more you can take away, maintains Karl.

Joknar is about to argue, backed by the other bandits, but Trax silences them with a brusque gesture. The reptilian leader ponders the idea. He turns to the other crocs.

-- You know what, brothers? He's right. We've pampered this male pussy so far, allowing him to live in the hideout, sleep in our beds, and everything. No longer! From this point on, when Elias is not doing his chores or servicing boners, he'll stay tied to a post outside the forge, where an animal ought to be. We'll say he's a legit slave. Ha! A criminal we caught trying to steal from us. No one will ask questions around here. If he wants back inside, it'll be on him to be extra pleasing, and figure out ways to prove his loyalty and dedication to us! If he can't convince us, well, in this case he'd better get used to sleeping outside in the cold, and being our new naked mascot!

The clan roars in approval. They excitedly pull me up between them, bumping and squeezing me like I'm a puppet, reveling in this new and original way to expose my vile defeat to the world. Innumerable scaly hands slap and grope their humiliated property. I don't attempt to resist the bastards. I'm their thing. I'll continue to be their thing until they choose otherwise. They lift me up and begin to carry me in a twisted procession toward the hideout, their clawed fingers invading and teasing every intimate spot of my body. My tail gets tugged. I feel them over my butt and in the crack of my ass. On my chest and back. Under my armpits. Grabbing my ears. They sing:

-- Mascot! Mascot!

Once inside, since they missed me, they take turns roughly pounding both of my holes.

-- Clients mention him. They like him...

It's much later. The day is slow and lazy for Trax's gang. The sun lingers high, seemingly longer than it should. I'm locked up in my usual place, at the front of the shop, wrists tied together above my head, forced down in a supplicating stance. They attach me to the post by the wrists and collar, and sometimes also by the ankles when they really want me to keep the position. Occasionally, they use the chain leash. It lets me sit more comfortably, lie down in a ball, or move a meter or two within range of the post. But not this day, so I wait on display for the rare visitors to ogle and deride, with nothing to do but let the hours pass under the heat, until one of my captors will find themselves horny enough to lead me inside and order me to do depraved shit, with which the collar will make me comply without question. Then, after getting fucked hard, I'll meow and compliment them obscenely, grovelling, rubbing my hips against their legs, lying down at their feet and hoping for a good word about me to the boss. When they're finally tired of having their ego stroked, they'll bring me back here so I can please the next croc. That's my purpose. Trax said if I keep it up for a few more months, I may be allowed to sleep inside again.

In the meantime, I'm listening to a whispered conversation behind me, inside the shop. Joknar is speaking.

"... and so I've been thinking, you know? He's the first thing they see, and with how we've been improving at the forge, making these new toys and shackles for him, we might be missing an opportunity..."

Every five seconds or so, the words are punctuated with a hammer strike on an anvil, or a grunt from one of the few bandits willing to do metalwork in this oppressive weather. They've been putting more heart in their work since they started creating gear to use on me. They made a large peg so that I can be trained anally even when they're not in the mood, or for me to bounce or suck on as entertainment during their feasts. They also created a new chastity cage, plated in silver, because the old one "wasn't shiny enough." Of course, silver tarnishes easily, so I have to polish it. A lot. Rubbing my locked dick and balls for hours every week is beyond torture for me, but the crocs love it. They say it reminds me of my place. That's true, because I have to stare at what's written there during the whole process. I don't pretend to fight it anymore. No point.

"... and we've had an increase of those special orders, too. More of our client are coming here from their reputable neighborhoods to buy gear to decorate and customize their precious property. Just today we got two more orders for nipple chains and slave bracers..."

The other croc is clearly interested, listening attentively without a word.

"... why not expand and use the pussy to advertise? Ring gags, butt plugs, collars, tail cuffs, you name it! Doesn't matter how degrading, he'll proudly wear whatever we want to show off. We already know it'll work. People ask about the cage all the time as it is. Maybe throw in a little bit of leather work too? I'm sure we can learn that. Harnesses, muzzles, maybe a full suit or two for the discerning client who really likes his pet to feel proper control. We make crazy margins on these things, and it's legit too. No risk involved."

-- It's a great idea, brother. You need to pitch that to Trax as soon as possible. I'll back you. Been a while since we had a real talk about the future of the clan anyway. Pussy needs to start earning his keep.

I hear self-satisfied shoulder slapping and bodies moving to the back, and opening the hatch to the hideout. Soon, more clients will come.

Many more.