Gnollish Training
#12 of Tik Tik's Tower
Njinga, the gnoll taskmaster of the trader's caravan, decides to vent some frustration on a woman he's training.
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Life traveling the Great Waste is difficult, but not without its joys. For Njinga, the most excellent satisfaction comes from managing other beings, molding them into what is necessary for their next destination in life. His greatest joy in this endeavor, is making something new.
"How are you tonight?" The gnoll asks, stepping into the tent.
A muffled sound rises up from the center. It comes from the female, furry, but whose head is covered in a hood. She cannot speak because she has a gag in her mouth. She cannot move because ropes wrap around her form. Those impediments are intricately tied to avoid her breasts and make alluring designs of knots and winding coils over her body and down the arms tied behind her back. Her legs are spread as she squats, her body trembling.
"Let's see," Njinga says, stroking his chin. "It's been about... an hour since we've set you up? You've improved." He chuckles, squatting down to her eye level, even if she cannot see. "I want you to think about the burning throughout your whole body and let it remind you of the burning of the sun, scorching upon the dunes." He reaches up, stroking his head along her chin.
She doesn't move. Partially because she cannot, but partly because the tight collar around her neck holds onto the ropes and prevents her from moving. Though from the depths of her throat, she lets out a slight gasp. Of delight, of annoyance, it doesn't matter to the gnoll.
"You've earned yourself a treat, and I've been dying to get it myself, so lucky you, my pet," he growls, his hand moving down to her gag. He unlatches the leather, pulling it away.
Inch by inch, the fake phallus that makes up the inside of the gag pulls out of her mouth, her tongue rolling out from underneath the saliva-stained stick. When it finally clears her snout, she lets out satisfied, huffing breaths.
"Thatta girl," he says, squeezing her cheeks. "You've taken the biggest one yet. I'll have to make sure the smith makes you a new one, larger one. Hehe, you should have seen the arrival today--a kobold, dragon-type." He stands up, tapping her cheek before his hand disconnects. He undoes his belt, letting his leggings fall and his cock fall out over her snout. "Those things can take dicks from creatures three times their size and still beg for more. Can a slut like you do that, I wonder?"
Even though her mouth is freed, the trainee says nothing. She keeps her long tongue hanging down under her chin. Her breath is slow and purposeful, knowing that she would be receiving even more.
He snickers, pulling his hips back and grabbing onto the back of her masked head. He shoves his cock into her mouth, ready to use her to relieve all of his tensions.
The gnoll grunts and cackles, leaning over her, fucking her mouth and her throat.
She cannot move from her position, and her training has kept her from wanting to do anything else but be that hole for him. Such the perfect specimen to take out frustrations for such a frustrating day.
Specialized handles on the back of the hood allow Njinga to grab hold of his prized possession and grant him the ability to slap his balls against her chin with the thrust and momentum of his fucking.
Her mouth has been perfectly conditioned. She sucks upon the shaft, increasing his pleasure while also increasing her own desire to fulfill his wishes.
It isn't long before he holds her close. He grips the handles, pulling her in and smushing her face up against his musky body before he groans out. He releases into her, sending spurt upon spurt of his manly essence deep into her throat.
And then he lets go, collapsing onto the ground while she maintains her posture, the perfect little doll she's been trained to become.
Njinga chuckles, pushing himself up and undoing the bindings that tie her. The ropes fall off her body, and the collar thumps to the ground. Her robust lupine features show a woman of determination and poise when she pulls off the hood.
"Thank you for that, Njingy. That was quite the experience."
"I am happy to have been of service," says the male, pressing a hand to his chest and giving her a slight bow.
"Same thing next time?" She asks her tail wagging, thumping against the rug.
"I wouldn't have it any other way, and neither should you."
The two workers of the caravan part ways that night, enjoying their little session of stress relief. After all, it is a dangerous and stressful job working for one as terrible as Anish.
Woe be it to anyone who thinks working here is a dream come true. After all, this is the caravan that makes trade with the merchants of Nightmare.