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“I was in for quite the ordeal."

Raphael took his time surveying the artistry of his Gryphon's immobilisation. A large circular wooden platform had been erected, a few meters in radius, and suitable for the many points of anchorage required to fully lock down the movements of such a large creature. It was placed as the centrepiece of their Lair in the Holy City, able to be constructed and deconstructed with relative ease; the Beastlord had purchase it as a wintertime gift of sorts for Bravura who had proved to be something of an expert in matters of bondage. He'd not expected to be getting so much use out of it.

The Gryphon had been placed onto his back, his wings spread wide, and his Master now loosely ran his fingers through the broad feathers. D-rings had been screwed into the wood below, and from them were strung great leather bands to bind down the wings. Three for each side, to divide the primaries and secondaries, the secondaries and tertiaries, and the tertiaries from the main body. It led to the great span being fully splayed, immobile and vulnerable, scarcely permitted a twitch.

He admired the chocolate brown of their undersides, gradually darkening towards the coverts. There was no consistency quite like them, soft yet brittle, with a scent like old dust emitted when he passed his fingers over them. Raphael traced inwards to their shoulders, the feathers thickening, and as he found the chest, his hand had disappeared completely into the mantle. Much of the strength was here, in powerful forelimbs, shoulders, and flight muscles, and great effort had been taken to render that power impotent.

Another leather band constricted the throat, a primary point of anchorage for the upper body as any struggling led to the restriction of their air. A pair of bands crossed over the chest, locked down to their own angled D-rings beneath them, above and below the spread wings. It kept their back hard-pressed to the wood, and combined with the locking down of pinions and neck, there was no room to twist or squirm.

His talons had been sealed into cloth bags reinforced with metal wires, great claws able to do nothing but scratch at their interiors, and a bar connected their forearms to the crossed leather at their chest. Their body became more lithe as the Human's hand traced downward, from chest to stomach, another leather band placed before the haunches to hold their lower body still. He let his touch linger here for a moment, along the line where the feathers of a hawk thinned to the fur of a lion.

The haunches were quite broad, digitigrade and leonine, the ankles connected by shackles and another metal bar. It was linked to the bar of the forelimbs to form a shape akin to a capitalised 'I', holding their legs spread and their most vulnerable parts exposed, feral anatomy rendering them helpless. Talion's tail was almost as long as Raphael was tall, but it too had been immobilised, a small metal clamp locking it down at the base, and a series of D-rings drawing it artistically to the side. The crowning tuft was an explosion of feathers, additional control for the most intricate aerobatic manoeuvres.

Raphael drew back, drinking in the sight of their exposed sex. Their great orbs were softly furred, leonine and very warm to the touch, the sheath was silken, yet a device had been fitted here. Metal wires had been twisted into shape to form an elaborate lattice cage, preventing their maleness from emerging. A thin cord ran around each thigh to hold it in place, the much easier anchorage point of their orbs neglected to leave them entirely free to receive the attentions of their Master. Below them, exposed by the spreading of their legs and the locking down of their tail, the pink of their opening flexed in anticipation.

Gryphons were always clean, obsessive in their bathing rituals, and it was one of these rituals which had led to Talion's current predicament. Heedless of the warnings of his Master, he would often sneak into the baths still wearing his ceremonial armour, preening before the largest mirror of the house. A misstep had led to him slipping, and a great weight of armoured Gryphon crashing down had done quite the amount of damage to the channel which fed the baths with water.

His Master had been furious, an anger which his Pets had never before beheld in him. He'd checked every inch of his Mount thrice over, pressing against feather and fur, searching for bumps and bruises, to satisfy himself that the armour had borne the brunt of the tumble. And after receiving quite the lecture, and a reconciliatory hug, he was now here for his punishment. Bravura, the Felyne, had spent an hour tying him down to his satisfaction, complaining for much of the time that for him being placed in such a position would be considered a reward rather than discipline. It was impressive that he'd managed to accomplish this tiedown scheme with only a single arm, but the cat was quite dedicated to the art, achieving success with sheer determination.

The world was darkness, for a blindfold was draped over his eyes, and a thick leather strap banded around his beak stifled his voice. For a Gryphon there were two dialects, one which involved sound and the whole body, and another simpler method of communication with only their voice used while in flight. Their language was complicated enough for there to be no true translation to other tongues, yet Raphael's gift from the World God allowed him to understand the creature. A pity that even that would be useless when the most he could do was hum through his nostrils.

Their fingers had found his crotch, his large orbs drawn into the palm of his Master, and Talion swallowed hard against the restrictive collar at his throat. He had grown used to playing the part of the hen, and from this lightest touch the arousal of anticipation blossomed in his midriff as a dull heat. Yet the cage stifled his erection, his excitement punished by the weave of metal. It was not painful, but it was uncomfortable and frustrating, the sensation unpleasant enough to have the Gryphon turn the full force of his will to sublimating his enjoyment.

He hummed an exhalation, his body barely permitted the space to twitch, and as Raphael gently fondled him, his Master began to speak, “You are my precious Mount, Talion. You're my hen." The pressure increased, “I own every inch of you. Your body. Your mind. Your heart. You belong to me down to your very Soul." His fingers flexed, “I accepted your Oath to be mine. I won't let you break that Oath. I will not allow you to hurt yourself so foolishly." Raphael took a slow breath, “So, I'm going to take my time with this. Never again will you forget your place."

The Beastlord had the day to spend, and he fully intended to make use of all of it. Truth be told, he quite liked indulging his Gryphon. Bravura liked to be ruined completely, and sex with Alp needed to be framed as acts of domination to satisfy his pack instinct. With Talion though, he could lavish the Gryphon with torturous affection, and this bondage only sharpened the sensation of power which came with making the large creature squirm.

He lowered himself, inhaling the heady scent of Gryphon musk as his lips kissed against one of those heated orbs. His tongue extended, gliding over the finest, thinnest fur, and through that velvet assessing the warmth and weight of the spheres within a tight sac. There was very little loose skin, for things needed to be compact in flight, but Talion had quite large nuts, and his Master quite enjoyed making sport of them. The Gryphon hummed again as he drew one into his mouth.

Raphael suckled gently, his tongue lathering fur with saliva, and with the press of it he could feel them churning. The warmth intensified, and with them the throb of need. Mouthing softly, he continued this stimulation of his Mount, his nostrils flaring as the air gradually began to fill with the familiar scent of Gryphon arousal.

Despite being denied emergence, Talion's restrained cock was as copious with precum as ever, droplets already clinging to the metal wire and dousing the fur of his groin. His hum was one of potent frustration, but any straining against his bonds was to no avail. His Master continued to worship his balls, the pressure of the inside of his mouth increasing as he sucked hard on his chosen testicle, heightening his arousal and stimulating the production of more submissive essence.

This was something which Raphael could happily have spent the whole day on. The sensation in his mouth was soft and downy, yet Talion was well groomed enough for there to be no shedding of this velvety fur. Each orb was heated and potent, and he could sense every throb of need as he worked on them, smell the burgeoning musk of his hen. Normally when he indulged Talion in such a way, his Mount would call him 'Servant' and preen luxuriously. But now he squirmed instead, desperate and frustrated, every exhalation a low hum of impotent desire.

He swapped to the other orb, finding the sensation of having this large creature so entirely at his mercy to be uniquely empowering. In his jaws as their grandest vulnerability, and with this act came the affirmation of complete ownership. His worship of his possession was its own brand of domination, an underscoring of their value to him, a demonstration of their worthiness to experience such tender ministrations from their Master.

But if he was being entirely honest, Raphael simply enjoyed the sensation of it. The musk of his Gryphon was heady and addicting, their submission as his hen enflamed his masculine heart, and there was a sadistic streak buried somewhere deep inside him which delighted in the ruin of this proud and noble creature. He had taught Talion the pleasures of sex, corrupted him, made him into his eager hen, and now indulged himself on his Mount freely. His nose nuzzled their sheath, and he further lavished their orbs with attention.

Talion's breaths were becoming quite rapid, the tapered tip of his cock caught in the lattice of the cage as willpower was no longer enough to sublimate his arousal. His chest heaved up and down against the binding leather, and as his Master adjusted his grip by placing his hands at his inner thighs, the feeling of submission which came with having his bound legs further parted was enough to tip him over the edge.

The cage ruined his orgasm. It made a sensation which was glorious, the pleasure of serving as his Master's hen, into something muted, stifled, and suppressed. What was usually heavy ropes of thick Gryphon essence was instead a feeble dribble of pearly white, and the feeling of it pouring onto his abdomen was a pathetic humiliation. He moaned, infuriated, straining to no avail, his talons inside the wire bound bags scrabbling desperately. He was a male that played the role of hen for his Master, but he was still a proud male – and that masculinity was being choked into submission.

Talion was glad that his beak was bound. Because he knew that if it wasn't, then his Master would have demanded that he explain precisely why the ruin of his manhood was making his cock strain all the harder against its imprisonment. Bondage had spared him further shame. For the moment.

The human allowed his tongue to run higher, his maw relinquishing their orbs for a trail of kisses to run up the fuzzy sheath, a teasing softness against the imprisoned maleness. Of all of his male Pets, he found the flavour of Talion's essence to be the most pleasing. There was a bitterness to it, of course, but a sharpness which was almost medicinal. And since Bravura produced so little, and Alp disliked his Master performing such a non-dominant act as sucking his cock, it was also the Gryphon which he had most opportunity to enjoy.

He took his time lapping up every drop, his tongue pressed against the metal wires to drag against the small amount of pink flesh that was exposed, his hands on their thighs only highlighting the sensation of helplessness. For Talion there was no greater torture, and his master knew it, “Your taste is my favourite." His Master commented between kisses, “You're my Slave. My Mount. My hen. Every drop of your seed belongs to me. Whether I wish to savour it for myself, or have you drain your balls beneath Alp's tail or down Bravura's throat, or even to make a mess of your feathers."

Raphael licked his lips one final time before leaning back, adjusting his position to drape himself lower, his tongue meandering downwards until it found the pink of their spread wide undertail. This was a hole that he had trained well, but the potency of leonine haunches had always kept them virginally right no matter how hard and how often he mated with his Mount. Fortunately, this sort of foreplay was one of his favourite parts of breeding his hen.

His tongue met the exposed flesh, where the spread of the bar and forced raising of their tail had drawn their haunches wide enough for the puckered entrance to be clearly displayed. It twitched immediately, and Talion's hum through the gag became urgent. But his Master would take his time. Rather than delve deep, he instead ran the tip of his tongue around their entrance, drawing slow circles, flicking back and forth, torturous in the motion.

The only taste was that of Gryphon musk, bitter and sharp, yet it seemed to grow in intensity as he worked on their undertail, teasing them mercilessly. Their scent thickened, their restrained avian cock continuing to leak its need onto their stomach, the pool which had accumulated during this short period grand enough to begin to flow down his sides. Talion was always copious in his production, almost as much as his Master, and the Gryphon reacted so sensitively to anything beneath his tail.

Talion's entrance slackened, exhausted from the tension of holding tight beneath his ministrations, and now the Beastlord chose at last to delve deeper. His lips came to press against their pink, the weight of his body bearing down, and his tongue pushed forward to have their Mount inhale a much higher pitched hum. Their insides were so warm and soft, and there was a sense of progress which came with the slow process of beating their tightness into yielding need.

Raphael set to work, his tongue curling upwards and drawing back, and despite the shallowness of his press, it was sufficient still for the Gryphon to moan into their gag and divulge a great throb of precum beyond the cage. There would be no oil today, and the Human was determined to ensure that his Mount was slick and yielding enough for that fact to not slow them down in the slightest.

He lavished their inner walls with affection, his lips parting slightly to drag the pucker of their undertail along with them, allowing even deeper access. For a long time now, every exhalation past the gag had been a high pitched hum, the suppressed moans of a needy hen – very different to the deeper tones drawn forth when he had instead been lavishing their orbs. This was the flavour of submission, and as the fact of it dawned on Talion, and he acknowledged the feminine timbre of his own moans, he found his second orgasm.

It was a gasp of pure frustration, his talons clenching inside their bags, his beak straining against its sealing band, and his undertail seizing down onto the tongue of his Master. His cock was again denied the satisfaction of a true orgasm, bullied and caged, it leaked a meagre load unbecoming of such a potent Gryphon. Talion's cheeks burned with submission. His maleness may as well not exist. At least if he was a female, then his Master could put an egg in him!

His Master withdrew, satisfied that he had worked over their entrance as much as his tongue could achieve, and he released their thighs to now set a hand to the pool of cum accumulated on the Gryphon's chest. There was a strong temptation to lick his fingers clean, but Raphael resisted the urge, instead placing his first two fingers at an opening which could now accept them with only the slightest resistance.

The words that Bravura had once shared were drawn to mind. While [Tame] could force a Pet to be still, it would only be to the best of their ability. Bondage allowed so much more, with binds to struggle against, or to sag into, resistance and authority which no command could be the equal of. And as Raphael watched Talion twitch and squirm, impotent and contained, his cock caged and his body vulnerable beneath him, he finally understood the allure. He owned Talion. This was his Pet, his Mount, his hen. And to watch them so entirely within his power, it underscored the authority of his role as Master even more thoroughly than his Apex Ability did.

Talion was straining now. The complete immobilisation bondage allowed only the smallest of movements in his world of silence and darkness, but his internal muscles twitched, milking his fingers as if he had already sunk his own cock into the needy hen. The sight was too arousing, and Raphael could not help but lose control. He knew well that spot of pleasure inside his Gryphon, his fingertips finding their button and pressing down hard, their whole body rocked into their bindings in response.

A growl was in his throat, something mildly sadistic, possessive, an expression of his own desire. His fingers twitched, and then immediately became rapid in their movements, exhibiting the sort of brutal fingering which he would use to force his female Pets to cum when he wished to quickly see them to orgasm. Undertail was no pussy, but Raphael had learned precisely what to target, and the Monsters of this nonsense world were inherently sexual creatures.

Orgasm came quickly. Shameful and meagre. But Raphael paused only to gather more slick from their stomach to transfer to their undertail. Oversensitive, their cock pressed uncomfortably into the metal wires of the cage, the hums became desperately pained, the suppressed vocalisations of what would surely be begging were Talion permitted his voice.

But his Master was merciless. Their hole, relaxed by the efforts of his tongue, was not being bullied into submission by the rapid fingering of his cum-slicked digits. He twisted them deep beneath his tail, pressing against velveteen walls, sadistic in the ruin of their insides, but always ending in the pleasure of seizing at their prostate.

Raphael had the whole day set aside. He intended to make use of every minute. [Tame] had evolved to make his sexual stamina limitless, and the motions of his fingers never slowed to exhaustion. His mouth again found their orbs, and he suckled on them, feeling each load churn up, teased by his motions, and then pounded out until it spilled onto their stomach. More slick to be forced beneath their tail. His foreplay was hours of torture, and the Gryphon was tortured into submission.

Talion's beak was wet with drool, the side of their muted gold cheek moist with saliva, and the few tears which had made it beyond the blindfold. His mind was filled with the mist of arousal, pleasure stirring forth fantasies which his conscious mind would have deemed unworthy of him. Mating between Gryphons was a strictly private affair, and he found it deeply embarrassing to lay with his Master even in the presence of the Monster Harem. Not that it had ever stopped him. He imagined now who could be watching? Was Bravura serving his Master refreshments? Was Khut looking judgemental as she scorned his submissive cock? Was Kali stifling her laughter?

He imagined how it would feel to be made a hen by his Master before the eyes of his flight. What would his eggmates say if they could see him now? Most handsome and desirable of the clutch, pouring the pathetic whimper of a smothered orgasm onto his stomach as he was played like an instrument, made into nothing but a toy by the person that he belonged to. Foul language did not come naturally to his race, noble and ever aloof. But he knew the words they would have for him.

Slut. Tail-raiser. Faggot. Whore. He was a failed male that would never breed anything, a waste of the perfect genes which made him so attractive to his kin. It was only his Master's title of Saint which had them curtail their scorn even now. They all knew that Raphael had made a hen of him. But none would imagine that he had fallen so far in their wildest dreams. The shame was absolute. He'd never been so glad to have been hatched a male. For the submission of playing the part of a hen despite his desirability as a breeding male, the humiliation of his perfect cock caged and useless, was something which he could only experience as a man.

When his Master mated with him, sucked his cock, set his tongue to his undertail, fingered him, made sport of his orbs – everything – it was for nothing but pleasure. He wasn't being bred for an egg, he was being fucked for pleasure. He was his Master's hen, his Oath was to be theirs entirely, and he was owned. He was possessed. A Mount whose place it was to be beneath him. His partner. His lover. His slut. His tail-raiser. His faggot. His whore.

Not that he'd ever say such vulgar words!

The day passed inside these ruinous fantasies, Raphael edging him before every orgasm, taking his time churning up a load of essence inside those leonine orbs before using his fingers to pummel his prostate and fuck it out of him. The Beastlord had never tired of it, entirely consumed by the act of domination, he devoured the sight of his Gryphon breaking beneath him, his masculinity and his pride ruined orgasm by orgasm, his shame and humiliation crowned with each pathetic trickle of cum.

Even beyond the blindfold, Talion could tell that it had gone dark outside. The glimmer of light within the room of which he was conscious could only be the amber flicker of the fireplace, and he could smell the smoke. But his Master had never left him untended to light it. Another shameful orgasm wracked his body as he tried to imagine which of the Pets had seen him in such a compromising position, and it was the last that he would suffer beneath the cage.

“I would call that a full day." Talion's hums became rapid and desperate, the fingers of his Master moving to the straps at his thighs and toying with the cords locking the cage in place, “Disobey me again and next time I'll end your punishment by leaving you unsatisfied at the end. I'll ruin you all over again, and then I won't touch you for a week. You will wear the cage to the Parade Grounds for every Gryphon of the flight to see. And I will make you beg in front of all of them for me to mount you in the end. Understand?"

He could not nod, but he made his agreement clear in his desperate humming past the gag. Salvation arrived, the tyranny of the cage dragged free of his sheath for a foot of smooth avian cock to immediately drape across his stomach. And immediately beside it was placed the masculinity of his Master, the maleness of the human broader and weightier. The sensation of it alone invoked a submission which had his tapered tip disgorge another glob of precum, a larger cock by however slight a margin making his own feel as insignificant as it would have been was he dwarfed tenfold.

Yes. His Master was mighty. The superior male. It was right to raise his tail for him. To submit was his natural place. To play the part of the hen was his role. To defy his own masculinity was his pleasure. He was proud. Proud to bear the scorn of his peers – for they would never know the joy of being so deeply possessed! Owned down to his very Soul! Devoted! Oathbound! Loved!

Raphael sheathed his cock in his hen at last, and after a whole day of edging and ruined orgasms, the Gryphon erupted immediately. The wood below created, the D-rings screeching, as Talion thrashed against his bonds, his body straining with all of his might to the avail of not even a single inch of give. He choked, straining his neck against the bond at his throat, and his cumshot was forceful and copious enough for the first few jets of essence to paint his own bound beak.

His insides moulded around the shape of the cock he had dedicated his life to, inner muscled beaten into submission by tongue and fingers stirred to find the will to milk their Master's maleness. His inner voice was deep in the throes of whorish confessions, the moaning of a dedicated slut silenced by the gag into nothing but feminine hums. Blinded, gagged, immobilised, there was nothing in his world but his Master, and he warbled his gratitude for every thrust of their magnificent cock.

Talion loved to be flattered, worshipped, preening in his own excellence. But what greater compliment could there be than his Master's dedication? His hips slammed against his haunches with such wanton vigour, he stirred the Human precum and Gryphon essence within him into a froth of lewd shlicking, and in the effort of claiming him, he proclaimed his worth. Talion had never felt so treasured. He yearned for nothing but to reciprocate that love, silently begging to feel the familiar burst of seed beneath his tail that heralded his Master's pleasure.

He wouldn't have to wait for long. Torturous though this day had been for Talion, it had been just as frustrating for the Beastlord. Raphael had indulged in the sight of his Mount's submission for many hours, wringing ruined orgasms from him one by one, all the while supressing his own desire to simply fuck the male that belonged to him. Now he was finally free, and he would find himself the satisfaction which was his right as the Master!

His orbs twitched, and he planted a long held load deep inside his mount, hilting them with a snarl on his lips and the satisfying sight of their submissive avian cock painting their chest with a mirrored orgasm. It slowed him only for a moment. His hands found the metal bar spreading their hindlegs, and he set a portion of his weight to it, further exposing their undertail, forcing the Gryphon to roll upwards to the limits of the bondage.

It was from here, angling his cock downwards, that Raphael was free to sate himself. He fucked his Mount without mercy, the clench of his muscles stark against pale flesh, sweat marring his body until his dark hair was wet with effort. It was no longer a punishment, it was the reaffirmation of ownership, the domination which was the privilege of a true Master. But all that was in his head was the desire to fuck this handsome Gryphon into a puddle of pure submission.

[Tame] never allowed him to tire during sex, never allowed his vigour to fall short, his cock to wither, nor his balls to run dry. It was a lewd and twisted evolution of the Apex Ability, but one quite fitting for the oversexualised creatures of this nonsense world. He fucked Talion until his body went limp, and after removing the gag to make sure that he wouldn't choke, he continued to use their unconscious body until he had matted fur and feather both with his essence. Such a lewd Gryphon. Even when without conscious thought, fainted in the wake of exertion and pleasure, Talion's avian cock was still hard, and still would occasionally disgorge an orgasm onto his chest.

The Beastlord could only imagine what he was dreaming of.

Never would he have guessed that it would be how enticing that threat of a whole week of caged edging crowned by humiliation before his peers actually was!

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Special thanks and Happy Birthday to User ForgeFather381 who requested this Short and gave the idea for these little pieces on the side. This one is my gift to you.

And thanks to User Saxton for chatting about the series and offering some fun ideas. User Sewuyy for giving an extra nudge towards shorts. User AaAAaAaAaAAAaaHhHhhHhh for being a legend as usual. User OddReptile for their encouragement and suggestions. And User Etnom1 who posted just as this went up - I'm looking forward to establishing the pecking order with the Pets in the next epilogue!

As always, thank you for the faves, votes, watches, and especially the comments. I'm grateful for them all, and your kind words and encouragement have been what's kept me writing this series. Having conversations and interacting with comments on the last piece was especially bouying, and I just want to thank you all again. Cheers.

I didn't intend to do any more writing until Friday, but then this poured out of me all in one go. If anyone has any more ideas for Shorts that they want to see, creatures for the main series, or anything really - feel free to drop your thoughts below. Next up in the main series is probably a Yagudo Male, unless anyone gives me a better idea for a samurai-esque male creature!

Have a most excellent day.