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The warlord settled into his throne. His armor was freshly polished and cleaned. Another evening of training was done, he had seen to the disposal of a lone dissenter, and now he was prepared for relaxation.

His swallow pet was absent. Raven Beak had a minute soft spot for the creature known as Aetos. Because of this, he allowed the young bird a day in the libraries where he could pore over ancient Chozo texts, polishing his skills in the Chozo language and expanding his mind.

Raven Beak was an insidiously pragmatic thinker and only permitted this holiday because he wished to spend time with Desmond - the swallow's husband, the prideful warrior from Raven Beak's most recently conquered world. The Chozo general touched the controls built into his throne's armrest. A disembodied voice said in the Chozo tongue, "Sir?"

He replied: "Bring the little warrior to me."

"Right away, sir."

His troops, the Mawkin tribe, understood the value of punctuality. Desmond was brought to the throne room in mere minutes. In contrast to the loincloths his warrior wore when not dressed for battle, Desmond's small mammalian body was naked save for an eyepatch, which covered an empty socket.

"Leave us," Raven Beak said in Chozo. The warriors - who had a modicum of respect for Desmond - turned and silently left. In the galactic standard tongue, Raven Beak spoke, "I have need of you." His voice, already low and throaty, was modulated by his suit. It was a noise Desmond felt in his chest as well as heard.

"So use me," the foxcoon bluntly said.

Beneath his mask, Raven Beak grinned. "I shall if you continue to be difficult." He paused and focused his mind; his suit was dispelled in a flash of purplish light. The tall, mighty Chozo was left nude upon his throne. Sweat glinted in his down and feathers. A scent of heady musk, previously trapped inside the glistening armor, was allowed to fill the room. "Come to me. Because your life seems to be of no value to you, I am changing the terms of your servitude. If you resist me, I will have your mate killed."

Desmond's jaws set. His ears splayed. Raven Beak saw hate in his eye - that lone green eye, marred by a ruptured blood vessel, another reminder of the Chozo's awesome strength. "You wouldn't. You value him too much for that."

The Chozo stood. He towered above Desmond. "It is true I appreciate my pet's company. It would displease me to dispose of him. But breaking your stubborn spirit has become far too engaging of a goal."

Raven Beak approached. It took him only three strides to cross the distance in his large throne room. Tellingly, Desmond backpedaled a step.

"You're heartless, aren't you?"

"Mercy is weakness. Power is everything." He grinned. "I must admit that it has more impact when spoken in Chozo."

He reached for Desmond and took his shoulder. The foxcoon was frail beneath his touch; Raven Beak could have snapped any bone he wished with minimal effort. "If it is your duty as his mate to protect him, then you will submit."

Desmond's eyes drifted from Raven Beak's eyes to his large, presently dormant genitals. The musky odor which emanated from the Chozo was impossible to ignore. Despite all of the time he spent in the company of the warriors with their muscular, unwashed bodies, the smell of the warlord was powerful. He murmured, thinking only halfheartedly of Aetos, "I will do what you say."

Raven Beak drew him in slowly. Desmond's nose touched the hefty curves of his scrotum which the foxcoon began to sniff at once. The Chozo said lowly, "Yes. Smell me, slave."

Stolid defiance began to give way to lusty need. Desmond's eye drifted closed. His nostrils flared and he nosed all over the Chozo's loins. His paws cupped and rubbed, squeezed and kneaded. He told himself he was doing it for Aetos but his bruised and wounded vulva grew wet. He nosed into the Chozo's balls and he groaned. His paws slid across the muscular curves of the warlord's behind.

The Chozo stood passive as the little warrior snuffled and touched. His penis began to stiffen and the foxcoon kissed it, licked it. He gripped it in his fists and nosed into the glans. Precum glazed his snout; he shuddered and mewled.

"You smell incredible. But I'm doing this only for Aetos."

Raven Beak said nothing. He took Desmond's shoulders in his clawed hands guided him to lie upon the silk sheets and down-filled bedding which ordinarily he shared only with Aetos. In this prone position, Desmond growled and said, "No. Don't rape me again. I won't have it."

The Chozo's eyes narrowed. "I will do as I please, and you will not stop me, slave." For a moment he considered raping the foxcoon again, just for the spite of it - perhaps even anally. But the whim passed. He loomed over the foxcoon, his dark body blotting out the lights above.

Raven Beak's glimmering red eyes peered into Desmond's one-eyed gaze. He leaned lower, eyes narrowing, his appearance as menacing as it was handsome. The tip of his beak brushed Desmond's nose, and it sported as much of a dangerous edge as each of his talons.

Quietly, as if he spoke for Desmond's ears alone, Raven Beak said, "You are fortunate, slave. Not only to be in my presence, but to simply be alive. Were it not for your mate, you would have been killed."

"I know," the foxcoon answered tonelessly. His eye seemed to quiver as it studied the Chozo's features. His paws, previously flat on the bedding, began to touch the Chozo's chest and arms, tentatively savoring his muscular physique.

Without warning, the Chozo parted the halves of his beak against Desmond's sticky jowl-lips. His tongue, a fairly lengthy thing much larger and denser than Desmond's own, slid into the foxcoon's maw. Desmond's first instinct was to struggle and his paws shot to the Chozo's neck and head where he shoved the warlord in a futile effort. Raven Beak, who kept one hand on the bedding as support, clutched the delicate stalk of Desmond's neck.

A whimper escaped Desmond. Raven Beak delighted in the sound, which was pathetic and suited the little warrior well. He squeezed harder and his tongue lashed the back of the foxcoon's maw. He opened his beak wider, saliva drizzling across Desmond's snout, then mingling with that of the foxcoon as he mated his large beak with the foxcoon's jaws. Desmond trembled beneath him and tears began to leak from his eye. The Chozo tightened his grip and Desmond clawed his face, made him bleed. Undaunted, the Chozo forced his tongue down the orifice of Desmond's throat and wrenched upon his neck. Desmond sputtered and choked, but his paws wisely fell away to the sheets which he gripped in his fists.

Only then did the Chozo release the foxcoon's neck, first letting some of the strangling pressure off, then removing his hand entirely. His tongue dug deeper into Desmond's throat however. It was a curiously intoxicating pleasure for the Chozo who lapped deep and hard, finding himself enthralled by the squirming muscles and humidity of Desmond's throat. Beaks precluded deep kissing - if such a vulgar display could even be called a kiss - but Desmond's malleable jaws permitted it. Raven Beak grumbled against his slave. Desmond, whether in genuine pleasure or simple deference, splayed back his ears and moaned beneath the Chozo.

The Chozo pushed against the foxcoon's maw and forced his jaws wider, causing pain but not harm. Desmond's paws grappled with the Chozo's arms then, but he pointedly avoided Raven Beak's face. His claws were unsheathed but it was his pads which he pressed into the Chozo's flesh. Their gazes clumsily met and Raven Beak saw what seemed a mixture of fear and lust in his slave's eye. It was a look which suited him, just like his pathetic whimpers and cries. Raven Beak's penis throbbed and drizzled its precum into the foxcoon's fur.

Exhibiting more of his monstrous strength, the Chozo pressed the kiss harder. His tongue swabbed deep into Desmond's throat; the foxcoon gagged, his throat gripped snugly, and Raven Beak shuddered with pleasure. Just then the warlord tugged his tongue free. Desmond groaned in what sounded nearly like ecstasy. Thick ropes of mingled saliva linked his maw to the Chozo's beak.

Raven Beak knelt over Desmond, genitals throbbing against the foxcoon's cozy pelt. He hooked his thumbs into Desmond's maw, talon tips prickling into his cheeks. Desmond whined and gabbed the Chozo's scaly wrists, but Raven Beak sternly shook Desmond's head. "Stop," he warned. "You have enjoyed this. Your vulva reeks of it."

Their gazes locked. Raven Beak felt the blush in Desmond's cheeks. Embarrassment, desire, and hatred all played across his face, but his marred eye seemed to show only hate. Privately it thrilled Raven Beak, who still craved a duel with his feisty little warrior. But not today; not even tomorrow. His pleasures with the mammal were far from sated.

"I will not kiss you again," the Chozo uttered. "Not after where your snout is soon to be."

Though the Chozo's large digits were hooked into Desmond's maw, concern furrowed his brow. Raven Beak grinned. He slid his thumbs free of Desmond's maw, but on his way out depressed the foxcoon's tongue with one and let its talon tip rake along the surface. Desmond shuddered with submissive pleasure, and he closed his lips around the thumb. Raven Beak paused, intrigued, and Desmond momentarily suckled the thumb and its talon. When Desmond ceased, Raven Beak slid his thumb free. His talon caught on the edge of Desmond's lower jowl and plucked it, eliciting a shiver from the foxcoon.

"Desperation suits you, little warrior," spoke Raven Beak. "But it will not save you."

Raven Beak turned around on his knees, bringing his rump around to hang over Desmond's face. Chozo had no tailfeathers, only unadorned bottoms, and so nothing was there to distract Desmond as the darkly-furred curves of his ass descended.

"No, wait!" Desmond gasped. He pushed against the Chozo's rear but powerless to stop what was coming.

"You enjoyed my scent," Raven Beak dryly observed. "The time for kissing has ended. Now smell." The crack of his ass touched Desmond's nose. He expected the little warrior to buck and writhe, but the first sniff seemed to pacify the foxcoon. His paws, once shoving, merely rested on muscular buttocks. Raven Beak sat slowly, giving a click of his beak as Desmond's snout pushed deep between his cheeks. There was little effort needed on his part then. Desmond nosed into the tight, sweaty pucker of his anus and started to sniff.

"Not even your mate took to my scent so quickly," Raven Beak lied, for the swallow had been just as eager to smell him. He rested more of his great weight on Desmond, pushing the foxcoon's head into the cushions. The little warrior's nose pressed tighter to his anus, then began to spread the ring slightly. Desmond uttered a deep and shuddering groan. His toes curled and the musky scent of his vulva caught the Chozo's attention.

The Chozo slid a hand down the foxcoon's body. Though he was a warrior, the softness of his bedding betrayed the pleasure he took in delicate, soft things; Desmond's slender yet taut form was one such pleasure. The plush coat of the foxcoon sluiced through his digits as did the small tuft of blonde pubic hair just above his vulva. Raven Beak fondled his way down Desmond's small body, allowing his talons to rake softly, threatening but not harming.

Desmond did not shy from the Chozo's touch. He was hardly aware of it. His bloody eye was glazed and vacuous; his nostrils flared against the pucker of the warlord's anus. He breathed sharply using only his nose, but exhaled through his maw. In this way he was huffing against the Chozo's heavy scrotum, adding to the swamp of sweat and musk tucked underneath them. Thoughts of Aetos, of his homeworld, of his pride were pushed aside. He could only focus on Raven Beak's sturdy anal musk which filled his sinuses with its rich flavor.

Raven Beak's pulsing cock drizzled its precum across the foxcoon's belly. The Chozo collected a measure of the natural lubrication on his fingers, then traced them slowly around the plush lips of the foxcoon's vulva. From below he heard a gasp. Desmond's paws cinched around the Chozo's thighs, and his shapely legs - more suited to a dancer than a warrior, thought Raven Beak - twisted and kicked.

A pleasured noise rose in the wicked bird's chest. He spoke lowly, "You enjoy my touch as well as my scent. Understand how easily I could end your life, little warrior. And yet I am capable of generosity if it I feel it has been earned." His talons, sharp and strong enough that he could rend steel with them, traced delicately around the lips of the foxcoon's vulva. A dribble of vaginal secretions seeped from between the plump folds. The scent was immediately noticeable; Raven Beak sniffed the air and grinned.

"Make use of your tongue," said the Chozo, and wriggled his ass against the foxcoon's snout. Without hesitation, Desmond started to tongue Raven Beak's tight anus, lapping hard, doing so with a lustfulness the warlord appreciated. At the same time, Raven Beak curled two fingers into the foxcoon's vagina. He dug them in deep, talon tips raking across abused vaginal flesh. Desmond winced and gasped more in pain than pleasure, but his lapping continued, and so did his greedy snuffling.

Despite the wounds he and his warriors had given Desmond with their frequent rape, his vaginal muscles had tightened considerably. Raven Beak pumped his thick, scaly digits slowly, yet with his typical firmness. At times he spread his fingers to stretch the foxcoon. He intoned as he fingered his slave, "Your tongue. Lick inside with it."

Desmond gave no reply but immediately went to work. This suited Raven Beak, who cared little to have his orders repeated back at him. Desmond struggled to push his tongue against the tense, virginal muscles of the Chozo's anus. The warlord snapped his beak and hissed. He said luridly, "Yes. Get it inside."

Gradually, Desmond defied the Chozo's snug anal ring and Raven Beak grunted with satisfaction. His anus pinched Desmond's tongue, but with just the tip inside, Desmond had an easier time of working it deeper. All the while the foxcoon kept his nose as near to the Chozo's anus as he could and snorted the warlord's musk. His utter lack of subtlety made the Chozo laugh.

"The true whore reveals himself," said the bird as he added a third digit to his foxcoon's vagina. He spread them all wide and pumped them harshly, his talons prickling and at times raking. Small amounts of blood smeared the Chozo's fingers, but the vaginal secretions - Desmond's liquid musk - was so much thicker on them. Raven Beak withdrew his digits, smelled them, and licked the sticky fluid which webbed between them. He said with a shudder, "Your scent is your only powerful aspect, little warrior. I will keep you alive just so I may sample it."

Desmond was dully aware of the words and their condescension. He slathered inside of Raven Beak's ass. His tongue swabbed over flesh which never before had been touched. As he lapped, he found that he was tasting as well as smelling the Chozo's ripe anal musk, and it made his toes curl and his heart race. He was tight around the Chozo's thick, clawed fingers, pussy as hot as an oven. It was no coincidence that his heat cycle was just beginning again, and the presence of so much virility - in particular that of Raven Beak - had him ready for breeding.

Raven Beak closed his eyes and squeezed Desmond's tongue. Allowing the mammal to tongue-fuck him had been nothing more than a way to denigrate the little warrior, yet he understood now that it needed to be a regular part of his life. The swallow's tongue was shorter, his beak too stiff to allow the penetration as Desmond had achieved. He would need to keep the foxcoon alive; tolerating his bouts of pride was worth pleasure like this. He gazed down at his penis, which pulsed and shot thick ropes of precum. How satisfying it would have been to rape him again, but the sensations deep in his anal passage were too fine to cut short.

The Chozo fucked his slave with his clawed digits, getting rougher, going harder and faster. As a matter of principle, Raven Beak did not masturbate. He would make the foxcoon tend to his needs before long. He said gruffly, "Your smell is growing thicker. You're going to climax - I can feel and smell it on you." He ground his ass against Desmond's snout, totally cutting off his supply of air; all that the foxcoon could breathe was his potent anal musk, fermented by the hermetic seal of his power suit and trapped in the tiny follicles of his birdfur. Desmond trembled beneath him, vagina squeezing harshly, leaking its fluids and its blood around Raven Beak's fingers. He could feel the talons raking his insides but could only moan and gasp.

Desmond's orgasm came suddenly. He clenched tightly, immobilizing the Chozo's digits. A great amount of his vaginal secretions escaped around the bird's fingers; the smell was thick, both feminine and masculine. He groaned against the Chozo's ass, his tongue wriggling inside like a trapped worm, his nose snorting the hole, hungrier for the bird's rich anal scent than oxygen. In this moment of climax, his senses sharpened and he became acutely aware of the nuances of the Chozo's scent; for a moment he was more familiar with Raven Beak, and more in love with him, than Aetos had ever been.

"Excellent," Raven Beak hissed. He pumped his digits inside of Desmond, working hard to defy his seizing vaginal muscles. When Desmond began to whine and twist his legs, the Chozo slowly withdrew his fingers. Secretions and blood webbed between them. He licked them clean then said, "All of that pride and hate, and you've traded it for my anal scent and the feeling of my talons scraping your insides. You are not a warrior, slave. You're even more a soft, weak whore than your scholarly mate is. Clearly I was wrong to treat you with my tongue. Your filthy snout is better suited to this."

Desmond felt the sting of Raven Beak's words. His cheeks were hot both with rage and humiliation, yet he could not bring himself to decouple from the Chozo's rear. His tongue remained writhing inside and he could not stop his musk-hungry snuffling.

The warlord rocked back on his knees and pinned Desmond fully beneath his weight. Desmond could see nothing but the black of his downy birdfur and smell nothing but the ripe musk of his anus. He coldly said, "You are weak, slave. This shall be your place from now on."

The foxcoon shuddered beneath his master. Had he been able to speak, he would have offered no prideful rebuke, no defiance whatsoever.

Days passed while Raven Beak turned his attention to other, more important matters: plotting conquest, troop training, and the loving touch of his pet swallow. A week passed before he had Desmond brought back to his chamber. Per the warlord's orders, the Chozo who brought him chained him before the throne. He was chained not by the legs or arms, but with a thick collar around his neck. It did not restrict his breathing but it offered no slack, so perfectly fit to him that his fur bristled around it. The small warrior sat and waited, listening to the storms which wracked the planet's surface.

After some time in which Desmond contemplated his situation, Raven Beak entered. His power suit glimmered magnificently. He spoke as he passed the foxcoon, "Discipline is very time-consuming, little warrior. Now I am here."

Desmond said nothing. He was still thinking of how he'd all but gifted himself to the cruel warlord days before. The imprint of the Chozo's musk was still strong but he had had time to nurture his discontent and hatred again. He stared at the Chozo who sat in his throne, armor plating clattering against the seat.

In an instant, the Chozo's powered armor was dismissed. He was left nude, trapped sweat making down and feathers greasy and musky. Already the powerful scent which he exuded wafted its way into the room and consequently Desmond's personal space. He sniffed at the air once and felt a sensation both of lust and loathing.

"Is bathing forbidden on this planet?" the foxcoon asked, bitterly.

"Bathing is unnecessary," said the Chozo calmly. "Your mate sees to my grooming. As to my scent which you allude to," the faintest smirk creased his beak, "I would not take that from you. You, little warrior, who has lost so much in these recent weeks."

Desmond showed his teeth, yet he could only sit on the floor with what little slack his chain had, and so his smallness compared to Raven Beak made him appear almost like a child. "I'd kill you now if I had the chance."

The Chozo traced his tongue along the edges of his beak. He perused Desmond, examining the creature not as a warrior but as a toy; fluff-furred, lovingly groomed, with a great, vulgar sex organ between his thighs waiting for seed. He hooked one leg over the armrest of his throne, and in doing so exposed the barest hint of his anus. Even with barely a glimpse, it stood out sharply against his ebony birdfur.

As he lazed just so, he remarked, "It is most amusing to me, the way you've fooled yourself into believing you have dignity. You, whose nose has been deep inside of my anus. Whose genitals are female. And for all your hatred, you seem to savor both my touch and my scent. Or has my mind fabricated the occasions when I brought you to climax?"

Desmond's face darkened. For a moment his lone green eye fixed on the Chozo's red gaze. The ambient smell of the throne room was one of musk, of Raven Beak's own prolific scent, and as the Chozo exposed himself further so did the smell thicken. The foxcoon's eye drifted down sinewy muscle and downy birdfur, past flaccid cock and heavy scrotum. He put his eye on the Chozo's anus, and he set his jaws. Lowly he said, "Save your words for someone who wants to hear them. I don't enjoy the sound of your voice nearly as much as you do."

Raven Beak sneered. "Such a tongue on you, little warrior. If I didn't enjoy it writhing within me, I'd cut it out of you." Languidly he cupped his genitals, big balls fitting barely in a long-fingered hand. He lifted them and fully exposed the bud of his anus. "This is what you gaze upon, isn't it? Come closer."

The foxcoon pulled his chain in demonstration. "I'm as close as I can get," he said, a note of frustration in his tone.

"Are you really," Raven Beak dryly remarked. "There is some slack in it."

Desmond, whose chain was lashed only a few feet from the base of the Chozo's throne, pulled as far as he could before the collar began to dig at his neck. He grunted, wheezed, and sniffed at the air. The Chozo said, "You can get closer than that. There is still slack."

"No, there isn't," Desmond said, voice a frustrated growl.

Raven Beak, with his other hand, reached for his anus. As Desmond stared rapt, the Chozo spread the pucker of his asshole into a slight oblong. Deep pink flesh glistened in the tasteful lighting of the throne room; rich anal musk reached Desmond and made him shudder.

"There is slack," the warlord said lowly. "But not in the chain."

Desmond understood. He hated this warlord, this beautiful Chozo whose scent had enthralled him. He leaned in Raven Beak's direction. The collar dug into his neck, constricting and strangling. Desmond began to wheeze and to choke; he snorted at the air, snuffling as close to the Chozo as he could get.

"You wish to smell me," Raven Beak said. "Prove it to me. Prove it, little warrior."

"I'm-, I'm trying," Desmond sputtered. He leaned against the collar with all his weight. His eye bulged and reddened. He slavered at the corners of his maw. His nose quivered madly and his vulva dripped its viscous wetness onto the floor. Over the soft creak of the links, Desmond snuffled needfully. He reached for Raven Beak and he touched the Chozo's leg; for a moment he gripped, but when his vision began to gray, his touch fell away. He gasped in the grip of the collar, "Please... I need you!"

Raven Beak clicked his beak in agitation. "I doubt that. Were you truly motivated, you'd have choked yourself half to death in trying to get closer." He put his feet on the floor and his scrotum hung low again, obscuring his anus from view. "Tomorrow-"

"No!" the foxcoon snapped. He pulled at the collar, cringing and snarling. "I've tried!"

"Just as you tried to save your world," said the Chozo. Desmond stared at him, looking not enraged but gutted. The foxcoon fell back on his bottom. "Tomorrow we shall try again, little warrior." He touched the controls on his armrest and spoke to his guards. They came and took the foxcoon who silently, obediently went with them. Desmond cast a single glance back at the Chozo who sat in his throne with the faintest smirk on his beak.

The following day the guards returned Desmond to the warlord's throne room. They chained him down and unceremoniously left. Raven Beak entered minutes later. As before he was in his armor; the metal plates dripped with rainwater. He asked his slave in his low and measured voice, "Are you prepared to make an effort today?"

The foxcoon thought of answering with petulance. His vulva caused him noticeable discomfort; it had spent the better part of the night throbbing, even itching with the need to breed. He cupped it gingerly and he said, gazing at the Chozo's feet, "Yes, sir."

Raven Beak dismissed his armor. Beneath, as ever, was sweaty birdfur and feathers; he towered above Desmond, penis flaccid between his legs, musk emanating from his exercised body. He turned, talons clacking on the tile, and looked back at the vulpine. "I will make things easier for you, little warrior. Smell me. Prove to me how much you wish to smell my anus again."

Desmond moved onto his knees. Already he was at the end of his chain, and he wheezed as the collar tugged at his bruised throat. He pawed over Raven Beak's muscular legs, slid his fingers up through the downy birdfur and cupped the warlord's taut yet rounded ass cheeks. He spread them, bared the rim between them; the smell was potent.

There was no use in complaining about the chain. The foxcoon was bitter but not naive. Preemptively cringing, he straightened as far as he could and forced his throat against the collar. It gagged him, made it impossible to swallow. His arteries throbbed against the metal and blood pounded in his ears. He was terribly close now. His nose touched the back of the Chozo's scrotum and he drank in the warlord's scent there, but the prize was higher, just barely out of reach. He knew he could have touched his fingers to it and smelled them but only the vulgar satisfaction of his nose in the Chozo's anus would do. He gurgled and he wheezed, he fought against the collar, and he gripped Raven Beak's ass cheeks so firmly that the flesh dimpled around his digits.

"Choke yourself, little warrior," said the Chozo. "It suits you, I believe. Were I to squat just a few inches, you could have your prize. Even lower and you could smell me without discomfort. Does this gall you, Desmond? Do you appreciate how utterly corrupted you now are?"

Raven Beak listened as Desmond snuffled and choked. He stepped back, putting himself directly above the foxcoon. Ever so slightly he squatted; Desmond's cool nose touched the run of his perineum and the snuffling sharpened. Desmond was forcing himself against the collar with all of his strength, and as he got the musk he sought, the reek of his vulva thickened. The Chozo picked this smell out of the air and savored it, but of the smell he said, "The stink of your cunt fills the air, slave. Even trapped in that collar, choking the life from yourself, you grow so aroused. Such is the power I hold over you, little warrior."

For a moment the Chozo hung above the foxcoon, anus just out of reach, sweat dripping from his fur. His superior senses noted the slowing of the foxcoon's snuffling and the weakening of his grip. He said calmly, "I am impressed, Desmond. You would truly strangle yourself just to experience my scent." Now he squatted lower. Not so low that the foxcoon could stop fighting the collar, but low enough that he could finally sniff the source. As Desmond's cool, dark nose found the Chozo's anal ring, a shudder raced up the foxcoon's weakening body, and he smelled the warlord with all the strength he could muster. Though his mind was beginning to lose focus and the vision in his bulging, bloodshot eye was graying, Desmond experienced Raven Beak's anal musk in exceptional fidelity. A string of vaginal secretions escaped his vulva. He mewled against the Chozo's rear.

As quickly as he'd given the treat, Raven Beak stood. Desmond tried to follow, but with the musk taken away, he fell back, choking and gasping. He bleated in a raw voice, "Please, sir-, please, I need it..."

"Do you, now," murmured the Chozo. He turned and stood above and before the foxcoon, then folded his arms across his chest. Lowly he spoke, "Even on the verge of blacking out, I could feel your desire. Your nostrils flaring against my anus." The Chozo touched a toe's talon to the split of the foxcoon's vulva, then sunk it inside to the knuckle; Desmond shuddered and sprawled on his back. The Chozo maintained his balance effortlessly. "And your scent seemed to grow exponentially."

The foxcoon writhed. His wetness oozed around the Chozo's talon and toe. He said in a thick voice, "Your scent is unbearable. I need it."

Raven Beak teased the foxcoon's vaginal flesh delicately. "You may have my scent. You need only to renounce your dignity, little warrior. Confess to me your weakness, believe what you say, and I will make you my second pet." His gaze locked on the foxcoon's lone eye. The desperation in that green gaze was nearly endearing to the Chozo. He said calmly, almost soothingly, "Then there will be no chains. No tests. You will be free to bask in my musk as indulgently as you please." Purposefully he dragged the point of his talon over Desmond's vaginal flesh; the foxcoon cried out and grimaced. "But cling to your ways, little warrior, hold onto your spirit, and I will find a way to break it for you."

"I am a warrior," the foxcoon shuddered, gripping the chain and kneading its links. A trickle of blood fell from his vagina but was vastly outweighed by the musky secretions. "Please, sir, let me be a warrior and a pet. I will not raise a weapon against you..."

"No." Now the Chozo withdrew his talon from the foxcoon. He said as he put his foot on the floor, "These are the terms, little warrior. You agree to them. You do not negotiate them. Were Aetos here, I believe he would plead with you to accept them."

Desmond rubbed his face. He cringed at the thought of going back to the barracks again unsatisfied, but he feared the thought of abandoning the very core of his identity. He asked in a very small voice, "And if I am your pet, I will sleep here? In your bed? With my husband?"

"As well as with me," Raven Beak noted. "But yes. You will sleep in warmth and comfort. I will permit you to lie with your mate. And you will never be at a loss for my musk." He squatted above his slave until his scrotum touched the foxcoon's fuzzy breast. His hand touched the collar and he pinned Desmond against the floor. "But if I do not hear utter conviction in your words when you renounce your status as a warrior, I will send you away for another night. And we will try again tomorrow."

Their gazes locked. The Chozo asked calmly, "Will you be a proud slave or a broken pet?"

Desmond wanted, more than anything, to hate this Chozo. To despise his handsome face, his perfect body, and his powerful anal musk. He could think these things, but he could not force himself to believe them. It was with horrible, earnest honesty that he whined, "I wish to be a pet. A broken, weak pet. I am no warrior. I wish to sleep in comfort. I want to retire my spear. I long to-, to push my nose into your ass and drink your musk."

The Chozo leaned so low he could smell his own perfect anal scent on the foxcoon's snout. He was so near he could have snapped his beak on the foxcoon's face, bitten his nose right off and left him forever unable to savor the musk he needed so badly. The thought of such a petty wounding was darkly fascinating to him - but he rather liked the sensation of the foxcoon's nostrils flaring within his anus.

"A very convincing plight," said the Chozo. "And so, tentatively, I shall call you pet. No more are you a slave, nor my little warrior." He stood and walked to his throne. Without sitting he fingered the controls. The chain and collar were dismissed in a flash of light; Desmond pawed at his naked neck and breathed a sigh of relief.

Raven Beak helped his new pet to his feet. Desmond swayed on them but slowly regained his balance. The Chozo then led the foxcoon to the bedding, whereupon he dropped to his knees, and then his hands. Without shame or hesitation, he peered back and he said, "Show your devotion, pet. Have all of the musk you wish."

Desmond wondered if he had deceived Raven Beak, but with only a subtle whiff of the Chozo's upturned rear, the foxcoon realized how completely broken he had become. He hated Raven Beak, despised him for all he had done, but as he sunk his snout into the Chozo's ass crack he found his mind turning blank. His arms slid around the muscular bird's hips, paws clutching thick, flaccid cockflesh. His nostrils pushed into the pink rim between the Chozo's buttocks, that flesh which glistened with sweat and reeked of musk.

"Savor my perfect scent," hissed Raven Beak, remaining passive. He did not need to push his rear into Desmond's face; the foxcoon's eagerness saw him grinding in, pushing with his snout and digging his nose inside. Raven Beak gladly permitted this entry, as he took pleasure both in the former warrior's debasement and in the sensation of a cold nose spreading his anal ring. He exhaled deeply and settled onto his elbows, further perking the taut curves of his bottom.

Desmond's eye glazed with lust and satisfaction. Vaginal secretions thick with musk dribbled from his vulva. His paws clutched at Raven Beak's ass cheeks, gripped them tightly, kneaded through their downy birdfur and the slight layer of fat beneath the flesh. All of this was in service of digging his snout deeper. He breathed the purest strain of Raven Beak's anal musk yet. His maw hung open, panting, and his tongue dangled slack. Now he appeared lobotomized, his body movements incidental as he huffed and snorted.

The Chozo said, "This is your place, Desmond. Behind me. Beneath me. Do you not agree?"

Desmond gave a perfunctory grunt in agreement. He sighed, his breath blowing hot and humid across the sticky birdfur of Raven Beak's behind. The Chozo smirked and said, "Yes. I expected as much from you, pet. You will use your tongue - not just your nose."

Despite how musk-drunk he was, Desmond could still comprehend what the Chozo said. It was with some reluctance that he plucked his nose from the muscular bird's anus; the rim squeezed his nose on its way out, releasing some of its scent as it did so. With a shudder, he held apart the Chozo's ass cheeks and dug his tongue into Raven Beak's anus. He wasted no time on subtlety, merely slopped his long, slick tongue into the warlord's body. When Raven Beak grunted in pleasure, Desmond splayed back his ears and experienced gratification the likes of which he'd never known before.

"Good, pet," huffed Raven Beak, who then gave a click of his beak. "Excellent. Deeper. You may lick as deep as your tongue can reach..."

Desmond crushed his maw against the Chozo's sweaty ass. His tongue loped deep inside of the warlord, slathering anal walls, smearing saliva thickly over the musky, humid flesh within. As he lapped, Raven Beak grunted and bucked back. Desmond moaned, savoring both the flavor and the smell of the great Chozo.

The Chozo by that point had a swollen, leaking erection. He thought of the foxcoon's warm, tight orifices; soon he would treat himself to them, but just then, anal pleasures were what he craved. He said in a voice thickened by lust, "Enough, my pet. Lie back. Lie back and make yourself prone to me."

When Desmond plucked his tongue free of the Chozo's tight anal passage, the warlord huffed in pleasure, and his anus winked several times as it leaked saliva. Desmond laid back on the silk sheets, parted his legs and spread the plush black folds of his spade. He bleated, "Please, sir."

But the Chozo straddled his broken foxcoon's snout, and without hesitation sat on the former warrior's face. Desmond gasped, and his nose touched the familiar and well-loved rim of the Chozo's anus; he clicked his beak and pushed downward, spearing open his anal passage with the fuzzy wedge of Desmond's snout. He grunted, "Yes, that is a fine place for your snout, pet."

As he sank down, virgin ass engulfing more and more of Desmond's snout, the foxcoon at first seemed to panic, but gradually relaxed. His paws came to rest upon the warlord's back, then his hips, and he breathed deeply of the Chozo's anal scent. His toes curled and his vulva pulsed, leaking vaginal secretions. Quickly Raven Beak sunk two fingers into the foxcoon's vagina and said, "This is what makes you my second pet, Desmond. This snout of yours. The places it can reach...!"

Anal pleasures made Raven Beak's cock throb without benefit of being touched. He began to bounce on the foxcoon's snout. This form of masturbation was not without discomfort, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain. He was awed by the many textures of Desmond's muzzle and the way the fur tickled his insides. His prostate had never been stimulated before, but now Desmond's snout rubbed it. His beak hung open and he panted. He did not finger Desmond, merely occupied space in his vagina, but he bounced harder and harder on the foxcoon's face. He blurted, "This-, this pleasure is incredible..."

Desmond pawed over the Chozo's loins. He cupped the hefty, sweaty sack, rubbed the long and varicose shaft. He was dimly aware of what was going on but was so enthralled by Raven Beak's scent that he'd been made vacuous. When the Chozo's anal muscles began to tighten, he couldn't fathom why, but he drank in the wicked bird's scent and he climaxed effortlessly and peacefully.

In contrast, Raven Beak screeched like the great bird of prey he was. He gnashed the halves of his beak, grunted and smashed his muscular ass against Desmond's head. The foxcoon's snout dug at the deepest reaches of his anal cavity, where nothing had ever ventured before, and these pleasures saw the Chozo grunt and clench. He began to ejaculate, shooting massive ropes of semen which drenched Desmond's body. The cum webbed in his fur and matted it down. He groaned and bounced, fucking himself with the foxcoon's face. The great Chozo bellowed, "Excellent, my pet! Excellent!"

By the time his orgasm tapered off, Raven Beak was trembling, gasping. He felt quite unlike himself; he felt weak. Slowly he pulled himself up from the foxcoon's snout and his anus remained gaped, its orifice seeming to gulp at the open air. He laid shakily on his stomach, panting. Lowly, "Good work, my pet. You have-, you have exceeded my expectations."

Desmond dozily cuddled close to the Chozo. His mind was still vacant and his warrior instincts, it seemed, were forgotten. As he nuzzled up to the warlord's flank, he murmured, "Your scent. It's incredible."

"Mm. So it is," Raven Beak concurred. Already his ego was reaffirming itself and his trembling ceased. What he had done, he understood, was not weak; he had smothered his pet, made him succumb to the very worst of his anal musk. "My pet," he huffed, laying a heavy hand on Desmond's flank. "You shall pleasure me well. Very well."