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“Everything had come together at last."

Each footfall landed with the crunch of snow beneath his boots, the hem of his fur lined cloak trailing in the white behind him to sweep over the prints left behind. Raphael was clad in the weight of armour, though no responsible Gryphon riding Knight would burden themselves with anything too heavy. He wore silver greaves, the seat of his pants and outside of his thighs reinforced with thick leather for protection and comfort. His forearms were protected by matching silver vambraces, fur tufting beneath them which he could slip over his hands as mittens when in flight. And across his chest was a breastplate, inscribed with his Knight Insignia, a mark mirrored upon the decorative peytral of the Gryphon striding proudly at his side.

At his hip hung a rapier with an elaborate sweeping cross-guard, and his hand rested upon it to police the swing of the point behind him as he advanced. Raphael walked with his hood up, and vented to his mount as he went, “Returning home was more of an emotional affair than I expected it to be. I'd not even been gone a tenday, but as soon as I got close, Alp came barrelling down the street to tackle me to the ground. First, he was wagging his tail and licking my face and jumping all over the place. Then he just held onto me and cried. I've never seen him cry before." He closed his eyes for a moment, revisiting that memory, “I've been to war twice in the old world, but nobody had ever been there to greet me when I returned. The rest of my Pets arrived in his wake, and there in the middle of the road we all had a little huddle. Yeah, I teared up, too."

The man smiled, “Before I could introduce Kali, Khut managed to unleash a rather scathing, 'And who is this tail-bitch?'. Alp was cautious as well. He had encountered her once before in his mountain home while her mind was still lost to Wrath, being injured gravely in her wake, and left for dead. She was the cause of his scarred left side. Though, the Manticore and Wolfman found common ground quite quickly. They both respect strength, each has a clearly defined place in the group, and they share a single-minded loyalty. She was a 'worthy packmate' and 'rival' by the end of their first interaction. Rival in what, I could not fathom. I hope they don't fight."

To this the Gryphon gave a trill of affirmation. He knew full well the nature of the rivalry amongst the Pets, each one of them striving to become foremost in the heart of the Beastmaster. They did their best to keep the worst of their scuffles out of sight, and he imagined that it would become all the more difficult to hide their contest with the inclusion now of a firebrand such as the Manticore.

“I couldn't do much more than simply check in. My arrival was expected at the Grand Cathedral, and I arrived to meet the Pontiff with the Black Fiend of the North wrapped around my arm. In hindsight, I should have forced her to wear clothes, considering that the trunk of her body is so humanlike, but I have grown so used to the general nudity of Monsters that I genuinely didn't even notice." He placed a hand at the back of his head, cringing ever so slightly as he recalled the uncomfortable looks on the faces of the senior clergy when Kali paraded her magnificent breasts before them.

“In her madness, Kali had done a lot of damage. She has been the ruin of some monster communities, disrupted the migration of wyverns, terrorised the people of the lowlands, and had no shortage of deaths to her name. While the Pontiff could accept that she was not accountable for her actions while consumed by her Sin, that she submitted herself to her Wrath in the first place was not something that he could forgive, and the people of the Holy City would not either."

The Beastmaster reviewed, “He indulged me, and we debated the issue for some time, in the end striking a bargain. It would be declared that the Knight Beastmaster slew the Black Fiend of the North. She was dead, and this Manticore would not be considered the same person. Which I suppose could be argued to be not entirely untrue. Information on the appearance of the Monster had always been scarce and somewhat distorted, so it was not a deception likely to ever be uncovered. Afterall, I myself was armed with the intelligence of the Holy City and still expected a quadrupedal creature."

“In return, I would be unveiled to the world as a Hero of Legend, a Saint of the Trinity Mythos. My title would no longer be Beastmaster but Beastlord, and I would serve the Pontiff directly. I was a Knight already and had already sworn an oath to the Holy City, Trinity Faith, and the Pope-King when I became such – but to be revealed as a Saint would apparently free me of those obligations. The price of Kali's life was to swear them anew."

An oath meant something to Raphael, a word sworn upon his honour had great meaning. After all, Talion had declared such an oath to his Master with all his heart, to serve as his loyal Mount. That promise was the core of their bond. To break the covenant of his own oath would be to make light of theirs, and he would not destroy the precious pride of his Gryphon, he would not betray them.

“There was to be a ceremony in which my new title would be bestowed. A little pageantry and it would all be over, I thought. The Pontiff may have pressed me into his service in quite the heavy-handed fashion, but I interpreted this as his hope to keep me under control and not throw a spanner in the works of their orderly society. The world would know that there was a Saint in the Holy City, but ultimately, I would just have to promise to be good and quiet and I could go back to training Gryphons." He laughed uproariously, right there in the middle of the street, drawing a few looks from those few passing by, “How naive I was."

“They threw me a fucking parade."

Kali was quietly ushered off to his mansion, where she would remain with the rest of his Pets - and Raphael was left to spend the night in the Grand Cathedral with his Gryphon. In the morning, each was dressed in profoundly fancy armour and barding, groomed and robed, and then unveiled to a turnout of what looked like the majority of the population of the city, “I was declared a Legendary Hero to the entire Holy City, and the World God himself appeared before the Grand Cathedral to dub me with my new title. And do you know what the lecherous old bastard had the gall to say?" He raised his arms, incredulous, “'Well done, Mortal. Now that you've gotten used to things, your Adventure can at last begin!'"

“He spoke as if everything up until now was nothing but a prelude. The gathering of my Pets, my advancement of [Tame], being bound to the Holy City and Trinity Faith. It was all to get to the start line of the great quest that he had laid out before me."

Raphael unloaded a deep sigh and deflated, “I don't entirely know how to feel about that. I owe a great debt to the World God, but it would be reasonable to say that protecting his Holy City from the Black Fiend of the North is enough to repay it. Though I continue to be led along by him." He shook his head and considered his resolve, “I suppose ultimately, the answer is simple. This may be a nonsense world, but it is my nonsense world now. If doing his bidding is for the good of it, then I can resolve myself to be his Champion. I'll bow to the Pontiff and wield my power for this country, I'll keep my oath and I'll protect the people I love. I think that's what a Knight is supposed to be."

To that, the noble Gryphon looked to be quite pleased. While Raphael had returned to wearing his usual gear, Talion still wore the overwrought barding of their ceremony. The silver peytral was lined in gold, the Knight Insignia at its core bejewelled. Rich purple cloth was draped over him like the robe of a king, and the large creature strutted just like one looking pleased indeed, “Well, you had fun at least. Looks like you got your fancy barding and Master that will tend to you personally combo after all." He smirked, genuinely happy for them, “It's been a complicated day, Tal. I've met diplomats from the world over. That snake lady envoy from the East Island was particularly intense. It was less of an introduction and more of an interrogation." And he looked ahead, “We're almost home, though. At last."

In that home, in a lounge lit and warmed by a roaring fireplace, a conference was taking place between the Pets. Kali reclined luxuriously, having found that she quite liked the sensation of these 'cushions', and even more so the feeling of cotton 'sheets' against her skin, Felyne cooked food, and a lair with a door to keep out the draft rather than a dank cave. The severity of her mane was too much for a collar, so she wore Raphael's Knight Insignia on a pendant and toyed with it now idly. All Pets had assembled around her, and Khut stood at the fore, “Listen-attention, everyone! Lazy-Brute, Smelly-Fool, Cripple-Slut, Tail-Bitch! This is a temporary truce-peace to welcome back Master!"

Alp growled in response, “Watch your tone, Vermin. You have no right to command anything of me." He loomed over the small Skaven, but she looked thoroughly unimpressed by his stature. Perhaps because [Tame] prevented him from touching her. Or the even larger Deathclaw stood behind her with arms crossed, lethal natural weapons tapping scales.

“Peace." It was difficult for Kara to speak in long sentences simply from the arrangement of her skull-like countenance, the great blades of her fangs making the human tongue difficult, “Plan together. Welcome home Master." She huffed, “No fighting."

The Felyne was licking his remaining paw, and added diplomatically, “It would make Meowster happy. For ten whole days, he's fucked nothing but Gryphon. I'm amazed Talion can still walk!"

Kali scoffed, perking up, “For such a big thing, his stamina was a pile of shit. Can fly all day, but as soon as Master gets behind him, he swoons in a puddle of his own jizz in no time at all. What a fucking loser. I bet you're all the fucking same."

The Wolfman bristled, “Of everyone here, I hold the title of lasting longest without collapsing while under Master, and you will not take that from me!"

She brought her tail up between her breasts and hugged it, “He put eight loads into this…" The opening at its tip flexed, revealing the slightest pink against jet black chitin, “Then one in my ass, one in my mouth, and one more right into my fucking womb. He's more of a Monster than any of us. I bet he slammed a whelp into me!"

Khut scowled, “No way you're that lucky, tail-bitch. I'm going to be the next one to get knocked up by Master-Husband!"

Bravura shook his head, “Does it really meowtter? We've already tried combining our pawces to wear out Meowster, and he always outlasts us. Eleven loads? Meowbe we finally have the firepawer to take him down!"

The Manticore winced slightly, “Well, uh – there might be a tiny fucking problem there." She put a hand behind her head just like Raphael, “He's dyed me his colours, took possession of me and all that fucking bullshit. So, now my tail is just as sensitive to him as my fucking cunt. When we Manticore take a Mate, we reshape ourselves just for their use, so…" Alp looked quite triumphant, and she fumed, “Fuck you, Wolf-tard! I bet I can still handle him just fucking fine!"

The Skaven grinned, and then burst into laughter, “Wolf-tard! Wolf-tard! Oh, that's great-amazing! Look at Smelly-Fool's face! He's so pissed-angry!"

Kara tapped her claws against her scales, “Focus. Plan for Master. No fighting."

“Why shouldn't we fucking fight?" The Manticore was unafraid, “Master says he can knock up his girl Pets even with the race barrier – so every cumshot one of you losers steals from me is jizz wasted. Especially the males. You two jackasses should just lick his balls or something while he pumps me."

Bravura sighs, placing his one hand over his face, “What is with the breeding fetish in this Meownster Harem? Dealing with you females is impawssible."

Alp was fuming, “How dare you insult me! I've been here longer! I'm more senior in the pack to you!"

With her tail sweeping back to a comfortable position, Kali yawned, “To be fair, you're probably the only one here I can imagine getting along with." She grinned impishly, “That fucking said – I'd really enjoy beating the crap out of you! I'll grind you under my heel and make you watch while Master fucks me!"

“It shall be you beneath my foot! I accept your challenge!"

The Deathclaw at last lost her patience, unleashing a roar which shook the mansion, “Enough!" All eyes were upon her, “Master soon home. Must prepare. No more fighting. Truce." The enormous creature winced at a whining noise from the corner, “Wake hatchling. Quiet."

Khut sighed, now stood alone as her protector left to take care of their warbling infant. She seethed with jealousy but couldn't deny that the little lizard was rather cute. The hatchling's eyes shared Raphael's silver-grey. The Skaven continued, “Okay-right. Smelly-Fool, Cripple-Slut, Tail-Bitch. Here's the plan-scheme…"

It was midafternoon when Raphael finally arrived home, the Beastmaster – or Beastlord rather, brushing the accumulated snow from the latch of a large iron gate to advance into the courtyard of the mansion. Though it only covered one floor, the pristine white building was quite large indeed, very suitable for his collection of Pets, even the big ones. Most often at the entrance (when not accompanying him) could be found Alp, but this time instead there was a Skaven clad in a great heavy cloak with the hood pulled up, looking rather uncomfortable in the cold.

“I'm home." He declared simply, but then, “What are you doing out here, Khut?"

She shuffled from foot to foot, exhaling a breath onto her hands. Raphael slipped off the Ring of Warmth and the Skaven took it graciously, placing it onto her pink clawed finger as if it were a wedding band and looking pleased, “Will tell-reveal soon. First, Burden-Beast should take side door. Smelly-Fool explain to him." She held up a hand, “Before-ask, hatchling is fine-sleeping. See-look later. You come-follow me. Promise-swear you like."

Raphael was ever one to indulge his Pets. This was clearly some sort of surprise, perhaps a welcome home party. Maybe there would be cake? Would it be dated to make a 'the cake is a lie' joke? Nobody would get it, anyway. Well, unless one of those memelord Heroes that had come before him had somehow baked it into culture. Ha. Baked. He blinked, “Sorry, I just thought of something incredibly inane." Whatever lay before him, she had stood in the cold awaiting his arrival for who knows how long. If she cared enough to do that, of course he would play along, “As you wish. I'll follow you."

He was led into the hallway, in which he was relieved of his cloak, armour, and boots. And onwards into the lounge. The room itself was probably the largest in the mansion, enough space and enough furniture to accommodate them all and then some. The walls were insulated with thick wooden planks, the floor a patchwork of thick fur rugs, and a large brickwork fireplace had within it a crackling merry flame. Despite the exterior of the building looking like it was made of Lego, the interior had its own charm – the bath Roman style, and this room more like an alpine cabin.

There was nobody in sight, but it had the feel of being freshly abandoned, and Khut had kept him in the hallway for some time while he loudly removed his gear. Now, Raphael was guided to his seat, a large armchair within the radius of the heat from the fire, not too close and not too far, he best chair in the house for its Master.

Khut had kept her cloak, and now smiled again from beneath the hood, “We have decided turn-order. Drew lots-straws. But I cheat-trick." The Beastmaster leaned forward, beginning to get the idea of what was about to befall him. She took a deep breath, “Please, watch-look." And she let the cloak fall to the ground, pooling at her feet.

She wore a high-slit dress, crimson fabric to match the bloody pools of her eyes form fit to her upper body, pressing down her snow-white fur. It compressed the waist lightly and pushed her small bust together and up, a loose drape of fabric over her left shoulder cascading down her arm, the other adorned with a simple black leather armlet. Unable to wear shoes, she had wrapped her ankles with more black leather straps, and she had taken the time to polish the Knight Insignia of her collar, her throat moving against this symbol of ownership as she swallowed. There was a slight jingle behind her, her long tail sweeping back and forth, a very small silver bell tied about the end with a jet ribbon.

The Skaven seemed uncharacteristically bashful, looking everywhere but at her Master, “I used-spent… the money in the flee-run bag." Her toeclaws flexed against the rug beneath her, “Was ponder-thinking. Already rat-wife. Maybe if dress-wear like this, be like human-wife?" She toyed with the ring on her finger, “What think-feel?"

The Holy City did not recognise marriages between different races, even the three that actually had rights here. But it did not stop people from holding their own ceremonies and declaring themselves so – exceptionally rare though relationships between other species were in this nonsense world. There was a Human Knight at the North Garrison after all which had a Gnoll wife. But Raphael wasn't thinking about the wider implications of this. His mind was paralyzed with happiness. When he finally found his senses, “I think-feel you should keep that ring."

Khut smiled. It was such an innocent look, far removed from her usual smugness. A vulnerable expression filled with affection. She was his. His Wife. The Skaven took a step forward, “I like-love you, Master-Husband. So, please-“

No more need be said. Raphael fell to his knees, still superior in height even then, and he folded her into his embrace, stealing her lips and drawing her into a long passion. Her clawed fingers twisted into his shirt, as they had the first time she had honestly declared her feelings to him, and behind her was the tinkling of the little bell on her tail. Khut had grown to enjoy this intimate human act of kissing, and had learned to shield her large incisors, controlling the gasps of her breath as the press of his body weakened her knees.

It was some time before they parted, and by then, love had melded fully with lust. Khut's chest heaved, her white-furred leg protruding from the long upward slit, her eyes flicked upwards. It was a deeply erotic sight, and it lit a fire in Raphael, “Fuck…" He grit his teeth, “I'll buy you another dress."

She did not resist, rather looking quite victorious, triumphant in this great act of enticement, and pleased with the promise of an outfit to come which cost more than a silver coin. Despite the evocative colour and design, it was simple dyed cotton. He seized the hem and tore, expanding the slit upwards enough to expose her body from the midriff down, right up to the Sin Rune of Lust upon her abdomen. She'd worn no undergarments, and the pink slit of her femininity glistened with arousal, her small hand guiding his to it.

The strength in her legs waned as two large human fingers were slipped inside her, and she collapsed against him as with his other hand he seized the weak-point at the base of her tail. Raphael lurched backwards, returning to his armchair and bringing her with him, cradling her in his arms in what became a lewd bridal carry, her upper body supported by his left arm, his right hand pumping and twisting his digits into her sopping pussy.

He'd learned well how to bring his Skaven to climax, and he wasted no time here, with her weight upon his lap, her body supported in his arms, she sank her claws into the sleeve of his shirt and whimpered piteously as the spasming of her cunt and a rush of fluids announced her first orgasm. His look became a lecherous one, and he reached up to drag down the front of her dress, revealing small breasts peaked with stiff pink. The rightmost and closest he took into his mouth, capturing the nipple between his teeth and suckling while his fingers returned to making sport of her.

The second orgasm was not a quiet one. The sight of her in the rags of the ruined dress drove him to the heights of lust, as potent as if he were under the effects of one of her Enchantment spells. He'd once thought of her chest of not being particularly sensitive, but in truth, he simply needed to be a little rougher with breasts made to resist ratling incisors. Or perhaps over time, she had simply come to be more receptive to this very human pleasure. Her small fingers twisted into his hair as he had his fun, her body bucking slightly against his hand, but ultimately, she had surrendered control to him. She was his to enjoy, her body his plaything, and she knew that she need do no more than leave her pleasure to him.

She flagged with a third orgasm, the Skaven's body going slightly limp as he pushed her beyond oversensitivity, her legs spread wide and a great wet patch from her leaking fluids having accumulated over his armoured pants, “Please – please sex-fuck, Master…" Khut begged him, but he was simply having too much fun. The undulating grasp of her sopping insides was addicting to his fingers, the excited squeaks and breathy moans music to his ears. There was an empowerment to continuing to make sport of her through the period of post-orgasm sensitivity, forcing her into a new peak of pleasure.

The Skaven belonged to him, and he was intent on enjoying that ownership. He removed his fingers from her cunt, spreading them apart to watch a string of femcum extend between them, and then leaning back and away from her breast to put them in her mouth. Khut obediently suckled, lost in the moment, selling her eroticism for the benefit of her Master. She slipped her tongue about them lewdly, all in the hopes of enticing him, but when he at last drew them free of her, she whined with despair when again they were forced into her pussy, squelching atrociously into the arousal accumulated while she had sucked on them.

Her stamina was never high, and sex with her Master seemed to batter the vitality from her as it did with all of his Pets. He never seemed to run dry in his well of strength – if anything, he seemed to become all the more voracious with every one of them that he devoured. But it was an addicting exhaustion, a bone-deep satisfaction that came in the wake of pleasure and intimacy, worth the intensity of sex to achieve. She tried to find her voice as her mind swam in white mist, “Master-Husband… Pets all truce-deal… take turn-order…" Her toeclaws curled, her tail wrapped around his thigh and squeezing hard, “Only one cum-load each… for first time-go."

They'd certainly planned this out. Raphael was ready with his question, “Where do you want it?"

She squirmed, her chest heaving in a few great breaths as he stole her voice from her with the curling of his fingers, his palm against her clit. Khut swallowed, “Master knows where-how…"

He did, “Say it anyway."

Eyes closed, and she held him all the tighter, “Want-need under tail… beg-please."

“Here?" Raphael flexed his fingers, drawing them free of her femininity and slowly pressing them beneath her tail. Immediately, the long appendage released his thigh, wrapping around his wrist instead as he found her insides to already be well oiled, hot, slick and yielding to him, “You prepared for this…"

“Yes-Right!" She called out her affirmation, “Feels good-best! Can take-have Master all the way, pressure-push inside." Her body twitched as the pumping of his fingers became vigorous, teasing her for what was to come, “Like-love belly-bump!" The Skaven was lascivious in her movements, her eyes misted, “Even better than womb-fuck! Being used-owned by Master just for pleasure!" The voice became sweet and heightened in pitch, “When you make-force me to cum on nothing! Ah-fuck! Empty pussy spasm-twitch and cum-squirt!"

The Beastmaster could resist no more. He placed his rat-wife fully into his lap, looping his arms beneath her knees to spread her wide, one hand grasping at a breast and roughly fondling her, the other fastening around the collar at her throat. His cock was unleashed from his armoured pants, and with well-practiced movement, he caught the hole worked loose beneath her tail and sank the first few inches into heated bliss.

The sport he made of her chest was his right as her Master, her life beneath the collar his to own, and the embrace by which he pulled her down onto the spire of his maleness the gift he gave in return. Khut had come to love anal. It had been her final surrender, the gifting of her body to the male she loved, and remained now no less significant. When Raphael had her like this, she didn't need to think anymore, there was no need to dwell on the uncertain future. All that she had to do was spread her legs, hold on tight, and moan like a whore.

Moan like a whore she certainly did. The Beastmaster hilted in her, and a lewd bulge appeared at her abdomen beneath the Lust Rune. He tore the dress off her now completely, and she came to press her hands over that lump, applying her own pressure, rubbing up and down as she stimulated his cock through the walls of her flesh. Raphael moaned into her ear, but it was subsumed entirely by her orgasmic squeak as her womb came to be pinned between his maleness beneath her tail and the grasping of her own claws against her abdomen.

The support of his hand at her throat became vital scaffolding as her body went limp, for her head lolled when he continued to bounce her in his lap, using her as a toy to serve his pleasure. This fourth orgasm was cataclysmic, drawn out from her core to cascade over her entire body, to the tip of every claw, to the quivering bell at the end of her tail, consuming her heated mind and washing out her cunt with a spasming squirt which projected a line of femcum as far as the fireplace.

Raphael was ravenous. One cumshot she was promised, but he stirred her overstimulated pussy with his fingers as he worked his way towards it, and by the time he released his essence beneath her undertail, she had been unconscious in his grasp for some time. A satisfied, well-fucked, owned by him, Wife. He kissed the top of her head and drew his maleness free of her, setting the Skaven down not far from the fire and admitting the handiwork of a considerable gape oozing a river of pearlescence into white fur. Perfect. He cleared his throat, “Next!"

Perhaps it was a little presumptuous to cry out his demand so bluntly, but Khut was in no state to usher forth his next prize. He kicked off his heavily stained pants now entirely, returning to his armchair and waiting. It was only a few moments before he heard a familiar voice, a low growl, “Master…?"

Alp had made a point of approaching from behind, and intuition told him that to turn and look over his shoulder would be something of a faux pas. So, the Beastmaster waited, “If the vermin has lied to me about this, then I shall kick her into the fireplace." They grumbled, “The rat says that this is the traditional garb of a submissive male in the world that the Saints come from."

The Wolfman had clipped his leash into place at his broad collar, and it dangled at his side, a long leather strap with a loop at the end which Raphael often held when they walked together. It was not uncommon to see an unruly Slave led through the Holy City by such a thing, but Alp had become enough of a common fixture in their district and the North Garrison for its continued use to have grown somewhat suspect.

Along with it, he wore two sleeves, thinly woven of wool, dyed in blue and white horizontal stripes, his thumb slipped into each to secure them at his hands, and his upper arms broad enough to lock them in place on high. And upon his legs, secured to the dewclaw, and suitably raised, were a spectacular pair of thigh-highs in the same colouration, contrasting well with his bark-brown fur. He placed the leash into his Master's hand, fell to his knees before them and looking very out of his depth said, “She says I'm supposed to say 'uwu', whatever the hell that means. Am I doing it right? I feel stupid. This is stupid."

Raphael may have a list of issues with the 'Heroes' that had come before him as long as his arm. Especially the [Creation] user. But for this gift, he would happily cast that list into the fireplace and never voice his grievance again, no matter how egregious the street names of the Holy City were. He pulled the leash, bringing Alp closer, and placed a hand at the back of his head, letting the wolf lean against his knee while he stroked their fur, “It's perfect. The best dressing for a submissive male Bitch."

Reassured that they were not the target of some terrible prank, the Wolfman relaxed at last, his tail starting to slowly sweep back and forth behind him, “May I speak, Master?"

Despite being so rough with the other members of the pack, Alp always treated his Master with such deference. He waited for a nod before continuing, though Raphael continued to massage his fingers into the fur of their head, stroking behind his ears. For the Beastmaster, there was no finer idle distraction than petting his loyal hound, “I was listening to the vermin. I won't lose. You are my Alpha. I will kill for you. I will die for you. I am the only one you need!"

“Alp…" The Beastmaster took a slow breath. He wished that the Wolfman was in his arms for this, but for him to speak up from his knees and him down from on high seemed strangely appropriate for their relationship of Master and Bitch, “I don't need you to kill for me or die for me. What I need is…"

He smiled, “I know it can't be comfortable sleeping over my legs, but you crawl on top of me when the nights are chilly and in the morning ask if my feet got cold." Raphael reminisced, “When I go somewhere, you always put your leash into my hand. And when I have to leave you here, you wait at the door and come running to me when I return." [Tame] truly had domesticated this canine, the Wolfman often acted more like a pet dog these days, “You watch out for suspicious people on the street and always try to protect me." His fingers toyed with their fur, “Your loyalty gives me clarity when I'm lost. It reminds me to get a grip and be the person you think I am."

Alp was quiet for a little while, “…I get anxious when I can't see you, Master." He held on to Raphael's leg, “You are the Leader. It is natural for me to do these things. I serve the dominant male. I am your willing Bitch. To be used by you makes me… happy." His head shook, “No, more than happy. Every thought I have has you in it. I don't know what I'm trying to say I want. This is frustrating!"

“I love you, Alp." He finally got to say it first this time, “You're my Bitch. You want to give me everything? Then I'll take it. I'll have your loyalty and your devotion and everything else. I'll have your submission, too. You want to be used by me? I will fuck you so hard and so often that even with your regeneration, your insides will eventually reshape themselves to my maleness. I will engrave my scent and my mark upon your Soul."

“You see everything through the lens of the Pack? This is the end point of submission, Alp. Not because you'd kill or die for me, not because you raise your tail, but because of all of those other little things." Raphael built up a head of steam, trying his best to put it as simply as he could, to reduce it all down into something that the Wolfman could understand, and in the end it was as simple as a line, “Your submission is love. My domination is love. Now, suck my cock, Bitch."

“Yes! Master!"

His tail wagged furiously to that simple affirmation. Love may be a foreign concept to a wild Wolfman, but domesticated by [Tame] and living at the heart of a civilised community, it now felt strangely tangible. That was the word for his devotion, the summary of his loyalty, the end point of his role as Bitch. Everything was for Master. This is where he belonged. On his knees, with his cock hard between his legs, and his muzzle buried in Raphael's crotch. The leash twitched as his Master wrapped it around his hand, shortening the length, the human leaning back and widening the gap between his knees to allow better access. Now was the time to serve.

[Tame] had made a monster of Raphael. So potent was the cloying scent of his masculinity that even to the nose of a Wolfman, the Skaven femcum was barely perceptible, left behind as only the most subtle trace. There was a foot of uncut human cock before him, nestled in a patch of thick black fur, crowning two orbs churning with his gift of essence. Alp swallowed, leaning in close, his nose brushing the side of the shaft as he inhaled.

The Wolfman came. From nothing but the scent of his Master, that first intake of air. His legs shook, and his wagging tail flagged high above his twitching hole, his untouched cock bounced, and he whimpered pathetically as he gave it up all over the rug. All the while, Raphael soothed him with soft shushes, his fingers behind his ears, playing with his fur, his voice a gentle, “Good boy…"

His body quivered, and he could not prevent the wag of his tail in the wake of those words that pierced right to the heart of any domesticated canine. Alp fought to regain agency over his mind, and when he recovered, he leaned forward, extending his broad tongue and gently lapping at his Master's orbs.

Normally, Raphael would take his muzzle into his hands, adjusting the pressure of his jaws and forcibly fucking his mouth – but this time he seemed content to relax and let his Bitch work. Alp steeled himself. This was a test! Of course it was! A chance to prove to his Master that he was capable of satisfying him! And he would! Better than the vermin, at the very least! No, better than the cat! Better than everyone! He was the only one that Master needed!

With his determination gathered, he attempted to imitate Bravura. The slow draws of the Felyne's spined tongue always felt wonderful against his knotted shaft, so he set the broad flatness of his own to Raphael's length and began to lick it in long, slow, drags. A beat of precum appeared at the tip, and the taste of it washed over his senses with force enough to have his toeclaws flex into the sodden rug.

What was amateur in technique was compensated for with enthusiasm and the unrelenting dedication of absolute worship. Every drag of his tongue was reverential, every droplet of precum he earned was a benediction, and when he finally took the head of that superior maleness into his maw, his own was connected to the ground by a steady stream of submissive masculinity. Alp slowly drew his head down into the crotch of his Master, their cock pressing his tongue down and grinding at the roof of his mouth, before it went beyond his muzzle and into his throat.

There was no gag reflex. Why would there be? The purpose of his throat, before air, food, and drink – was to serve his Master's cock. It was his most vital element of life. His nose pressed into thick pubic hair, a stream of precum flowed into his belly, and the Wolfman moaned around that length as he found a second orgasm to nothing but the submission of worship.

His large furred hands were set upon the knees of his Master, and provided the slight leverage that he needed to slowly bob his head up and down. In one hand, Raphael held the leash, and the other toyed with the fur at the back of his Bitch's head, sinking into the sweet spots behind their ears and dispensing his affection. This is where he belonged. This is what he was for. Sat between the knees of his Master, languidly sucking his cock while basking in his soft petting.

He knew that Raphael needed more, and slowly increased his pace, rocking back and forth on his knees, his sleeved arms bulging with purpose as he threw himself onto the cock before him. He dared not look up from his task, his golden eyes focused entirely on the approach and retreat of a muscled abdomen before him, his breathing adjusted to the sawing of their movements.

Alp knew when his Master was going to cum instinctively, the increase in the thickness of their precum, the restlessness of their body, the twitching of their orbs. He drew back at the final moment, sitting on his ankles, delivering two final licks and leaning away with his mouth open wide. Raphael snarled out his orgasm, spraying thick ropes of vulgar essence over the face of his Bitch with less than half finding their muzzle. Alp panted and whimpered submissively, the scent of fresh cum pushing him over a third untouched peak, his knotted cock erupting over his own chest.

The sight was magnificent. Clad in blue and white sleeves and thigh-highs, collared with a cord twisted around his hand, The Beastmaster looked down at his Wolfman, grinding their legs together and moaning submissively, with their Bitch seed all over their chest and the essence of the man that owned him painting his muzzle.

There was more strength to him than Khut, and even after three untouched orgasms earned on naught but submission to his Master's seed, Alp still had potency left. But despite his obvious need for a load under his tail, he respected the Monster Truce, and chose a spot by the fireplace to obediently curl up – as far from the Skaven as he could be. He now watched proceedings, and dismissed by a nod of the head, Raphael called forth the next offering, “Next!"

Kali bounded in, the Manticore entirely unadorned. She took her place in front of him, and simply bent over, raising her tail high and spreading her legs wide, her fingers parting the flesh of her slickened opening, “Yo, Master! We gonna fuck or what? I've been bored as shit listening to all this mushy crap!"

Alp growled, but Raphael beat him to any response, “[Down], hands and knees – facing that way."

She assumed the requested position looking triumphant, expecting him to take a place behind her, but Raphael instead simply leaned back and set the back of his calves across the small of her back. He'd made her into a footrest, “[Stay]."

“What the fuck, Master!? We're all in a line to get a load of fucking jizz – what's the fucking problem!?" She strained against the order of [Tame], but the power of the Apex Ability was absolute, “I'm a much better lay than these two! Just put your cock in me, and when you've finished the line, we can fuck properly!"

Raphael just sighed, “You're such a fucking brat, Kali. [Tail]." He gestured with his hand, and she was forced to obey the implied meaning, her long Manticore tail drifting over to him. He'd used the return journey over the plains to figure her out. She would always fight him, always come at him aggressively with her demands. But what she needed was not his acquiescence, but his opposition. Kali needed to be fought every time, bent to his power, and forced to submit.

The Beastmaster couldn't decide if it was exhausting, or some of the most fun he'd found here.

Alp was watching with a smirk, pleased with the humiliation of this cocky newcomer. When the bulb at the end of the Manticore tail came close as he had bid, Raphael was quick to cut off the impending assault, “[Limp]." And it fell into his lap, “I've always been a little interested in this…" He grasped it in his hands, finding the shape to be roughly similar to a rugby ball and the mass a little bigger. White spikes protruded from the black chitin, and he avoided them while examining it.

Here in the firelight, he could just about make out her Sin Rune in a slightly different shade to the coal of her tail – the vengeful eye of Wrath, “Every time I put a load into this, it got spread all throughout your body. I could see cum on your tongue even, and since I've taken your virginity and claimed you properly, I've even had it drooling from your ass and pussy when all I've fucked is this bulb…" He sought the opening at its tip, and with the limb made limp, his thumbs sunk into it and parted the organ lewdly.

“Fuck! Just fucking fuck me already, alright!? Didn't you get enough of this bullshit on the walk to the city!?"

Raphael grinned, “No, I've not had my fill at all. You're my Prey, Kali. You don't get to dictate shit to me. When I have you like this, I'm going to devour you every time. I don't think you've got it in you for meek submissiveness to stick. That isn't who you are. I need to fuck you stupid and tame you all over again every time. Now, [say] you're a pathetic whore."

Khut may have the intelligence to see the obvious flaw in that order and to turn it on him, but Tali did not. Or perhaps, she did not want to, “I'm a pathetic fucking whore."

“Whose whore?"

There was no order this time, and she didn't seem to notice, “Yours, Master." She growled, “Now fucking fuck me already! You dyed me your colours so I'm bound to you for fucking life! My body will reject all other fucking cocks – and they're all fucking inferior anyway – so take fucking responsibility and fuck your fucking Prey!"

“That's not how a Slave speaks to their Master. That's not how Prey talks to a Predator." He looked into the bulb, finally taking full stock of the opening. It was no feminine slit, there was no top or bottom, or anything similar to any pussy he'd seen before. Rather than the featureless reptilian slit of Kara which was crowned with only a clit and had very little else for pleasure, this tail was lined with rows upon rows of draping labia, curtains of soft pink flesh which rippled as he exhaled a stream of air into them.

Kali shuddered in response. She'd never been able to get off with her tail before, but since her whole body was now reconfigured to serve her master, her own chimeric genetics twisting her biology to his service, the sensitivity was now as sharp as that of her cunt. She'd acquired a second femininity, and the Beastmaster tortured her for it from the second that he'd learned that fact.

The Wolfman muttered to himself, “That's what you get, you 'pathetic fucking whore'." And he rolled over, determined to recover his strength before he was next needed. His Master would probably be busy for some time, after all.

Her opening was quite yielding, the great chitinous bulb offering very little resistance as he pressed two fingers into it, flickering them softly and judging the consistency of what belonged to him. Kali looked indignant, but only whimpered, holding back her words until she could formulate her next tirade. Raphael though, had an idea, “Very yielding indeed… Yes. I think this is a suitable punishment. I know you like when I'm rough with you, after all…"

“What the fuck are you talking about!?" The Beastmaster leaned forward, ignoring her. He let the length of her tail drape along the floor, and placed the bulb under his left arm with the opening facing outwards, as if he were holding a pot, nice and secure. He then set two fingers to it. And then three, Four. And finally, he forced his whole hand into the Manticore's tail, clenching a fist and leveraging his strength and weight to sink all the way down to his elbow, pulling the bulb tight to his chest.

Kali screamed.

“I know first hand how sturdy you are, Prey! Let's put you to the test!" Every inch of her insides was a tremendous suction against his arm, and those feminine folds were present all the way down. The Manticore wobbled beneath his legs, barely able to serve as his stool despite the command of [Tame]. Between her legs was already a gush of fluids, her thighs soaked with a wave of femcum as the brutality of his punishment brought her pleasure.

“You're a – fucking monster!" She cursed him, but undercut it in a moan worthy of a world class slut when he drew back his arm and again forced his fist deep, “Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck you for being the only man that can make me into this! Ah!"

There was no pace at all, no gradual build to pleasure, no consistency to the motion. Raphael simply slammed his arm into her tail with all of the might that he could muster, as fast and as brutally as he was able to. It was difficult to tell when she came from the pressure of the tail around his arm, but clear to see upon her body itself. Kali would shake her hips like an animal, every climax a vulgar squirt of femcum beneath her.

“You've not earned the amount of time that Khut and Alp have." He admonished her, continuing the ruination of her tail-cunt, “So I'm going to fuck you with my arm until you can't even hold yourself on all fours anymore. Then, if you beg properly, like a good fucking Slave. Like the Prey that you are. My Pet Manticore. I'll put a load into your tail."

The longer that she withstood him, the more pleasure she was owed – but the power of [Tame] would not allow her to simply give up. Slowly, he was working his way deeper into her tail, repositioning slightly for more leverage, until his bicep bulged to widen the opening at the apex of each thrust. Her breasts swayed as she thrust back at nothing, the sensitivity of an organ that was never designed to withstand such punishment forcing orgasm after orgasm out of her body.

Eventually she collapsed in a puddle of her own fluids with a lewd squelch, narrowly avoiding the stripes of lupine cum left behind by Alp. Her paws twitched, her wings hanging useless, her tail under his control, “Please… Please, Master… I surrender… I'm yours…"

Raphael was smug in victory, “You were always mine." His arm was sunk up to the shoulder, and when he pulled it free it came loose in a shower of lubrication and a lewd sucking noise. He observed the undulation of her insides for a few moments, watching her powerful body regain its integrity and tighten up.

The Beastmaster sheathed his masculinity in the bliss of her tail, milked by the unnatural pleasure of it, and bellowing his orgasm not long after, his cock long hard and straining after the arousal he'd built up making sport of his Manticore for so long. The load was prodigious in volume, and it was with great satisfaction that he watched it drool from her mouth, pussy, and ass.

Released from the orders of [Tame], Kali rolled onto her back panting, “Fuck…" She smiled, and then laughed, “Fuck, no wonder all of these idiots fucking love you! You get me, don't you? You fucking get me!" She rolled his essence around in her mouth and swallowed, “Well, shit. It ain't like I'm interested in any other man. So, I'll fucking love you too. And I ain't gonna lose to some weakling Skaven, or shitty wolf-tard!"

Despite her words, she magnanimously rolled over to make space for the next entry, “Next!" A few moments passed, and Raphael almost called out again, but Alp stirred to action, pulling himself up and waving a hand to indicate that he would be back. When the Wolfman returned, he did so with quite the gift swinging from his hand.

He'd once asked Bravura why he liked to be tied up when [Tame] could simply order him to be still. The Felyne had responded with a lecture on bondage which occupied the Beastmaster for the best part of an hour, but ultimately from what he could tell, part of what the cat enjoyed most was there being something that he could strain and struggle against. The power of [Tame] was absolute, but against rope he could resist most valiantly. Futile, but it was the futility that he enjoyed.

Raphael couldn't really say that he entirely understood. But what he did understand was that when the Felyne was dropped into his lap now by Alp on his way back to his spot at the fireplace, there was an undeniable allure to being presented with a submissive made so vulnerable. Doubly so when by the exchange of three gold coins and your own effort of mastery you own every inch of them, body and mind.

His spare scabbard had been placed horizontal beneath both of the cat's knees, drawing them up to his chest and bound by rope to leave him spread with his lower half entirely exposed. It also served as quite the useful handle to carry them by, as the Wolfman had handily demonstrated. Their one arm was mittened with a mesh bag locked tightly at their wrist, depriving them of all dexterity yet leaving the limb free to flail uselessly. Without another arm to bind it to, Khut couldn't decide what to do with it, so simply immobilised him as best she could. His small, spined cock, not even two inches and likened by Raphael to an unripe strawberry was fully erect and had leaked a pathetic offering of precum into the fur of their crotch.

Two strips of cloth rested above his collar, one clearly a blindfold, one a gag, but right now their singular emerald eye was bright with vigour. Bravura spoke, “I won't beat around the bush with this one, Meowster. I'll just say that it might have been worth losing an arm, an ear, and an eye to get to meet mew." They smiled brightly, their ruined face joyful, “I know you're looking for a Pawtion of Regeneration for meow. But the truth is, all that I want to be now is your pampered little sextoy Slave. And I don't need to be healed for that. So… please, Sir – accept my super gay and meowshy declawation of love – and fuck your perfect cum into your Slave!"

There was such a comforting simplicity to fucking Bravura. No need for great shows of torturous pleasure, of contests of power, or long saccharine intimacy. The Felyne wasn't here for an hour of edging, or with a need to be put in his place. But to be used as an object, the most valuable treasure in Raphael's possession, but when it came to sex – an item. The moment that the blindfold came down and the gag was locked into place, that's what Bravura was.

So, the Beastmaster fucked him like one.

He buried his cock into an unprepared hole in a single stroke, and from the sublime mix of pleasure and masochistic pain, the Felyne's little strawberry immediately discharged its load onto calico fur. Raphael held them by the bar and their collar, supporting the entirety of their weight as he sat back in his chair and bounced them in his lap at a leisurely pace. They moaned wantonly through the gag, straining with the greatest futility against their bindings, but Raphael was determined to take his time.

An object they may be, but such a treasure demanded a suitable mess under his tail. For the Beastmaster, this was his intermission, a break between his Pets where he could relax and prime himself for the two that remained. The Felyne found a second orgasm, and the clenching grasp of his insides was a wonderful pleasure, “You're mine. I own you. Every last piece of you. Body and mind, heart and Soul." Every thrust now was to the hilt, and he delighted in the depraved bulge behind their abdomen, “I notice, Slave. Yeah, you can't cum without me just like the others. But no matter how much Wolfman jizz and Gryphon seed I use you to clean up, it's my essence on you that makes your toes curl. It's your Master's cock that puts your little sextoy body into heat."

His pace increased, the Felyne whipped back and forth along the length of his maleness, “Now cum, Slave! I want to feel my sextoy clamping down hard while I dump a load under his tail!" There was hardly a need for such an order, even one without [Tame], for the Beastmaster had twisted their collar and choked them hard, their tiny kitty-cock erupting and his own pouring superior essence into the submissive plaything.

There was a hook not far from the fireplace for the drying of clothes, and Raphael leaned it away from the flame further still, before hanging the Felyne from it by a loop of rope from their back. They were left swinging, blinded and gagged, legs spread wide, and creamy cum leaking from their gaped hole to fall to the ground in thick droplets of white. Raphael returned to his chair, “Next!"

Now came the Deathclaw, and she brought with her an armful of wood to feed the fire, Raphael only now realising how far into the night his escapades so far had led them. She watched it for a moment, using her long claws to manoeuvre the wood and ensure that everything would burn at a steady rate, and the turned to face her Master, whipping her blades through the air in the hopes of cooling them. It would have looked quite terrifying, were it anyone but her, “Master. Need move. Please floor. Chair would break."

It was difficult to find an open space, with all of the most choice spots by the fire occupied and the central rug awash with Skaven femcum, Wolfman jizz, Manticore squirt and all that had already leaked from the Felyne. Alp helpfully tossed him a pillow, and the Beastmaster took a spot closer to the fire, lying on his back and reclining happily.

Kara advanced. Normally she would arrange herself on her back and spread her legs, or thrust her chest to the floor and raise her tail, always expectant that her Master would see to her needs. So when she set herself atop him, it was a gift. She was the first Pet to join his Party, and the first to bear his offspring, and she had heard the declarations of everyone that had gone before her this evening.

Her tail swayed, a slight grunt in her throat, the language of the Deathclaw that only Raphael could understand. There was no word for love in that dialect, for it was not one that needed it, but the meaning was clear. She simply placed her enormous hand onto his chest and said one word, “Mine."

The Beastmaster rumbled his own response in the best imitation that he could muster, setting his hands over hers, “Mine." He echoed.

The skull-like countenance smiled, and despite the viciousness of her jaws, Raphael still thought it to be cute. It was less the movement of her cheeks upwards, and more the softening of her eyes. She had set her reptilian slit over his shaft, and rocked back and forth, controlling the distribution of her weight with powerful legs so as not to crush him. This position required the utmost care, with ten foot of pure scaled muscle bearing down upon a six foot human. [Tame] could only protect him from intentional harm, and here was very little margin for error.

Kara had been watching much of what had transpired from a gap in the doorway, the Monsters along with her advancing ahead of the Deathclaw one by one until only she and the Gryphon remained. Now it was her turn, and her need had for a long time been dripping down her legs. Of all of the pets, her juices were the most plentiful, the most thick, and the most slippery – Raphael often likened the consistency to olive oil. Whatever an olive was. Already her fluids were dripping into his crotch, and the human reached down to point his maleness upwards.

With now a foot of length, he could reach much deeper, but still, almost all of the pleasure that she found from mating was right at her entrance, her near featureless femininity crowned by a large and obscene clit about the size of his thumb. The head of his cock pressed against her ashen grey opening, but Kara shook her head, returning to the common tongue, “No. Try other hole. Want know what fuss about."

She looked to the Skaven, who at this point was sleeping peacefully in a mess of crimson rags, the ruins of her cotton dress. Kara enjoyed sex, but for her the act was primarily a way of reaffirming her relationship with her Mate, an act of bonding first and pleasure second. Though, despite saying that, he would still fuck her until her legs collapsed from under her and she was left insensate in a puddle of her own fluids. It was a wonderful intimacy, but she required much more effort to be brought to ecstasy compared to the rest of the pleasure-addicted Harem.

Raphael repositioned himself as he was bid, setting himself beneath her tail, and little by little the Deathclaw lowered herself, her breaths quickening, a strange pressure building inside her. Kara huffed. No. Her favourite position would remain the thrusting of her chest against the floor and the raising of her tail. From there, every stroke from her Master would slap his balls against her engorged clit. He'd often toy with it using his fingers as well like- “Ah!"

Her body jolted as he captured that thumb sized protrusion of ashen grey flesh between his first finger and thumb, spreading her fluids over it and tweaking it softly. Without his cock in her vent he had much better access to use his hands, and his face twisted in pleasure as the shudder that passed through her squeezed his maleness. Perhaps this position was less of a bust than she had thought!

The Deathclaw rode him carefully, ever conscious of the fragility of the human beneath her, and dedicated to the task of his enjoyment. She knew that later tonight he would bend her over exactly how she liked, but this experiment was for her and this pleasure was for him. But, why did he have to make it so difficult! He had slipped two fingers into her leaking vent, curling them back to capture her clit with his palm. Every flicker of them was a sensation which sent shockwaves down her legs, interrupting her movements, taking away her position of initiative.

“Not… Fair…" She whined, and then growled out an orgasm, a flood of her juices cascading over his abdomen as she ground his cock hard under her tail, “Master… too good at this." Kara could no longer find the will to raise herself up, and now held him hilted, her insides spasming rhythmically over his buried cock while he made sport of her exposed femininity. Her mind was filling with a familiar fog, her senses filled with the pleasure of rut and the presence of her precious Mate.

That word came to her again, “Mine." She leaned over the human, holding onto him tightly, removing him from the sight of all others as her body encased him from above, “Mine… Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine!" She came again, and this time brought her Master along with her. His cumshots were almost as copious as her own orgasms, and she could feel each jet of seed implanted into her core. It came with a strange, depraved feeling. But one that she did not hate. Kara bore him through the afterglow, and then finally released the Beastmaster, taking a place as fireguard while leaking his essence from beneath her tail.

Raphael wasn't quite done, his shirt offering some light protection from abrasive scales as he hugged the Deathclaw from behind, placing a small kiss on the softer armour of her cheek, “Mine." He tossed what was now a ruined garment into the fireplace and returned to his chair, now entirely nude at last, “Next!"

Talion was all that remained, and the Gryphon advanced from the Lair proudly. He had been stripped of his ceremonial barding with the help of Alp before the Wolfman had taken their own turn, but had kept the peytral breastplate with Raphael's insignia upon it. All six Pets hat that mark, on collar, pendant, or armour, and as the most noble of them all, he would not be the only one without it.

While he could understand the common tongue, he was not capable of speaking it, needing to resort to chirps, trills, and body language to convey meaning in a communication method which only Raphael could understand. Yet the Beastmaster always envisioned a rather deep and proud voice in his head when the Gryphon spoke to him, “I am sorry, Master. If I had known this was awaiting us then I would have prepared something. Perhaps a poem? I hope you are not too disappointed…"

“Talion…" The Beastmaster abandoned his seat, striding up to his precious Mount and holding their face in his hands, “I didn't go into danger alone. You bore me into the hunt. We are Knight and Mount. I'm the one that should be expressing gratitude to you." He smiled, “So, what would you like? After a tenday, I bet you're probably bored with-“

“You shall do the hand-holding thing, Servant!" Talion was quick in his request. Too quick, he realised, and the Gryphon stepped back, freeing himself of his Master's grasp and composing himself, “Ahem. If it would please you, Master. I would be happy if you… made me your hen. And did the hand-holding thing." He bowed his head, “Please.".

“Servant? That sort of language only normally comes out when you're being pampered." Raphael smirked, pressing his Gryphon.

“Well, it seems appropriate on those occasions, Master." Talion considered things, “When you groom me, or polish my barding, or parade me, or indulge my various other needs, at those times, you are much like a Servant, no?"

It was probably a good thing that Alp was not able to understand this conversation, or he would have given the Gryphon quite the talking to for his preening. Raphael simply found it endearing. Even after dedicating themselves to him, Talion had not lost any of his proud nobility and revelled in being made a fuss of. But that made prodding at his ego all the more entertaining, “Am I Servant still when I'm fucking your seed out over your chest?"

They swallowed, “Please Master, do not be vulgar… I'm at my limit just doing this in front of everyone." He glanced over to the assembled Pets, his anxieties more focused towards the females. The Gryphan hadn't seemed to have much trouble sharing the stage with Alp and Bravura in the baths, but with the other males he seemed to have the best affinity.

“Talion… You have had Alp give you a lap pillow while I pin you on your back and use Bravura as a tool to jack you off. I have used one of those Potions of Shrinking to make you as small as Khut and had you ride my lap with your claws on my shoulders. You have knelt before me with your beak hanging open while I spray my essence over your face. I have held you in place with [Tame] and used my tongue beneath your tail until you-“

“Yes, yes! I understand! Please, no more!" The Gryphon stamped his feet, tossing his head from side to side in an equivalency of a blush, “We are quite beyond vulgarity, I agree." He huffed, “To think, I was once a Gryphon of such great decorum. I am the most noble and handsome of the flight, and you have corrupted me to revel in such depravity."

The Beastmaster chuckled, “So, you admit that you enjoy it then?"

“Well – of course!" They step forward, eager, “To be your hen is a great honour. I am the Mount of a Saint! What Gryphon alive can judge me for raising my tail for you?" Talion trailed off, “Though, to be entirely truthful, I do not mate with you out of obligation…"

It really was like pulling teeth sometimes. Though, Raphael was enjoying himself, “Why, then?"

The Gryphon took a slow breath in response, then braced himself and stood proudly, blaring out, “Because it feels wonderful! Because there is no greater pleasure than being taken care of by you! Because there is nothing more fulfilling than serving as your Mount!" They stamped their feet, “How could you ruin me, so!? I have dreams about the times that you make me your hen and awaken to find that I have messed my feathers! You have made me into a lewd Gryphon, indeed! It's your fault that I can't stop thinking about you! And I am angry, and I am frustrated that I could not remain conscious to hear your answer when I declared my love! Can you even imagine how frightened I was when you left me outside that cave to face the Manticore alone!? You are so reckless with me, Master!"

“Talion." His name brought him back to the moment, for the Gryphon had puffed up his feathers in quite the fury. Raphael placed a hand to the side of his beak and he slumped against it, fingers trailing the muted gold up to the chocolate brown of his cheek, “I'm sorry that I made you frightened." He nodded his head in true remorse, “But I regret nothing else. It pleases me to hear all of these things – because of course, I love you as well."

Talion looked overjoyed, his words rushing ahead of his thoughts, “Well, yes – and so you should. I am the pick of the flight, after all!" He took a breath, and relief broke over him, “Thank you, Master. Now, if you please…" It was still so difficult to use such language, “Please fuck me. Please do the thing I have asked, and make me your hen, and even if it is futile – breed me!"

Well, he could hardly say no to that. Having toyed with the Gryphon enough, Raphael stepped back, gesturing forth for his Mount to arrange himself. Their conversation had brought their avian cock to full arousal, and as Talion placed himself onto his back, the platform of his wings spread wide, it dampened the fur of his abdomen with precum. His limbs pointed skyward uselessly, and he looked as embarrassed and as eager as he had when he was a virgin.

It was not a sight that Raphael could ever imagine tiring of.

The Beastmaster grasped a hindleg, finding it to be slightly damp from the baths. While the feathers had dried quickly, never fully permeated by the water, their furred half took quite a while longer. A glance down also revealed the presence of no small amount of oil beneath their tail – doubtless the work of Alp before their own turn. Raphael let his own masculinity fall alongside that of his mount, each maleness around a foot in length, the girth of his own making it fractionally larger when compared to the slow avian taper. The simple display of a greater maleness was enough to have Talion squirm, and as the human fell to his knees, the Gryphon tail shifted back and forth between his inner thighs, as if coaxing him.

He had called it hand-holding because he had no other name for it, though the intimacy of the act seemed to resonate well with the Gryphon. He placed each palm against each of the feline footpads of their hind-legs, and he entwined his fingers between their toes, as if he had taken the hand of a lover with digits similar to his own. The motion had come about by accident when he needed leverage one evening for a particularly vigorous mating press, and now the Gryphon asked for it often.

Alp was watching, looking pensive. Kali, as well. For both of them had limbs suitable for this. Talion's heart fluttered, his undertail flexed, and his cock twitched. He didn't think that he could ever become used to the mass of his Master's maleness in him, no matter how many times he took it, a sharp intake of breath coming with the joy of penetration. It remained a gift. When Raphael hilted in him, it was all that it took for his own seed to make a mess of his chest feathers, fucked out of him in great ropes of submission as his Master immediately set a slow pace.

The Beastmaster was looking rather smug. Whether it was the impact of [Tame] or simply pure submission, his Pets would always cum for him so easily, and he very much enjoyed the sensation of power which came with bringing them to a squirming peak. He had worked hard to master each of them, to learn what they best enjoyed, their weak points, all of the buttons to press. With this expression of sexuality so prominent in his daily life, and his own dedication to ever see to the needs of his Pets, he felt it to be his responsibility to indulge every carnal desire to the best of his ability. Of course, he could not deny that he was also addicted to this pleasure.

With his hold of their paws, there was a perfect suspension on digitigrade legs for him to leverage his weight, rocking his body back and forth as his cock sawed over that internal point of pleasure which had the Gryphon moan so wantonly. Every thrust would have them leak another fraction of a droplet of precum onto their abdomen, those large furred orbs brimming with the promise of more potent cumshots to cum. For Raphael it was a challenge. By the rules his Pets had set for the evening, his Gryphon could be bestowed just one load under his tail. How many could he have Talion spray over his chest before he unleashed his own seed?

The five orgasms he had endured already should have done something to dampen his lust, but the vigour of [Tame] and his own joy in the wake of Talion's renewed confession had peaked his arousal once more. His Mount's undertail had become a familiar pleasure these last ten days, and the Gryphon as well had learned how to indulge him. Limited though their movement was as a quadrupedal creature on their back, he shifted his wing-muscles to rock back into Raphael and match their pace. Mount and Rider worked in tandem here in rut just as they did in flight.

Their moans changed in pitch, the heightening of their voice signal for an impending climax. It came in just three more strokes, and the Beastmaster became beastly himself as he watched that noble Gryphon pant and thrash, throwing back their hips whorishly. It was enough for him to abandon his self-imposed challenge, his movements becoming a flurry of deep slamming thrusts. He used his grip of their paws to drag their hindquarters higher, and the string of essence flowing from their avian cock now leaked directly onto the ceremonial peytral resting against their mane.

For a noble Gryphon, there was a terrible depravity to the soiling of their barding in such a way, the spilling of seed over the emblem to which they had pledged their entire being. But, as one that had dedicated themselves to their Master in every way, to be his Mount and to be his hen as well, there was an appropriateness to this final submission. A great wave of essence flooded his undertail, and despite his previous orgasm being mere moments ago, he shrieked a great cry and painted the Knight Insignia with his seed.

The truce was finally broken. And the Pets all moved in.

What remained of the night passed by Raphael's eyes in flashes of profound debauchery. He remembered Alp teaching him about mating bites – his human jaws insufficient to do anything to his shoulder, but more than enough to crush his windpipe into whimpering submission. He remembered marshalling the combined strength of every other Pet to pin Kara to the floor, as he lifted her tail high and used both of her holes until her legs gave out and she collapsed entirely. He remembered fucking Kali's ass for so many rounds that she was just about ready to sell her Soul for a single load in her cunt. He remembered using Bravura not only as a sextoy to pass around his Pets, but degrading them to the point of using their fur as a sponge to wipe up the mess left behind by them all. He remembered Talion losing his mind entirely and uttering such a string of profanities that he became light-headed in the wake of it. And when all others were spent, he remembered Khut rousing herself to crawl into his lap for one final round.

When dawn came, Raphael reclined in his chair by a fire reduced to embers, his Wife in his arms fast asleep, and the entirety of his Monster Harem scattered about the lounge, basking in their own ruin. No fur or feather was left unsoiled, the whole room was an absolute mess. But, Raphael still felt like he could go for another round. His inner thought, “Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to add a few more Pets… just a few…"

He began to drift towards a much-needed sleep, maybe he would be able to catch a few hours of shuteye before the day began in full and he needed to return to the Grand Cathedral to meet with the scribes that were commissioned to chronicle his 'legend'. He wasn't quite sure to what extent he should gloss over the sheer amount of sex that his story contained. But, fate had other things in mind for the Beastmaster.

The bell announcing a visitor to his home rang, and Alp sprang to alert immediately. He was the only one that didn't sleep through it. Raphael clad himself in a robe, accompanied by his loyal Wolfman and after a peek through the peephole, he opened his door to reveal an entire entourage of Knights, quite a few of them being familiar faces from the North Garrison. For some reason, half of them were sniggering. He was sure that he even saw a few silver coins change hands.

A trumpet sounded, and from the midst of the group, a snakewoman rose on her coils, higher than any elf, man, or dwarf in her accompaniment. She regarded him rather coldly, her expression one of disgust, “Noble Beastlord." The Viper read from a scroll, “You are hereby invited to the court of the Emperor of the East. Your response is expected by day's end." She rerolled the rather small document, “That is all." And without so much as a 'good-day', she turned and slithered away, the Knights in her wake.

Alp growled, clearly displeased at this lack of common courtesy towards his Master, but for Raphael it was enough for him to turn to his Wolfman and realise precisely why the Knights were chortling, and perhaps why the Viper looked so disgusted as well.

For the bark-brown fur of his companion was scuffed and clumped with no shortage of oil, cum, and – yes, that was a little bit of candle wax which Bravura had broken out at one point much later into the night. His first formal impression made to the East Empire was this: The Beastlord is a first class deviant.

Raphael hung his head.

“FUCK!"

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: As always, special thanks to those that commented on the last entry - to User Newking for their support and the suggestion of a Cerberus for a future chapter (which sounds like a fantastic idea if I can get it to work the way I want). To User AaAAaAaAaAAAaaHhHhhHhh for supporting the continuation of the story and their kind words as ever. To User AirWall for a whole list of prospective creatures! To User NightSound for their continued support and consideration of party size.

Thank you to everyone that liked, faved, watched, dropped a comment, or even just read this far. It's because of you all that I've been able to complete this first arc of Raphael's adventures in this nonsense world. Four of the six creatures came from suggestions in the comments, and every idea for something to come and every kind word raises my spirits. I intended to take a little break before starting the next arc, but the first chapter is already pretty fully formed in my head and I want to get it onto paper (or a screen) while it's fresh. As always, please drop any ideas for creatures, things you want to see, or anything else below. The comments helped to shape this story, and I hope they continue to!

Now that the story I intended to tell is finally over, there's something I want to get off my chest. Maybe stop reading here if you don't want your boner killed. The truth is, that I was recently given the same news that Raphael was at the beginning of this story. I'm a former soldier and an active guy, I box, I fence, I run marathons - and in my future is almost certainly a wheelchair, maybe blindness, and a small chance of losing my mind, too. The whole world has kinda collapsed around me, and I found myself sat in an armchair in hospital with a drip in my arm, reading some lame isekai light novel, and wishing with all my heart for a real life World God to do me a solid. A lewd one would be nice, but I'll take any.

My similarities with Raphael end with our circumstances and skillset - he's not a self-insert. But, writing his story has been incredibly meaningful for me. Yeah, it's just a whole load of smut for a furry site, but it's helped me realise that while I'll never run another marathon, there are still some things that I can do. I didn't want to say any of this stuff until the end, because I wanted every positive interaction to be earned - and I didn't want to shackle people with good hearts to follow the series out of pity or anything.

So, there aren't really any words that I can find to tell you all how thankful I am. For everyone that has followed the series. Thank you. Truly. Please look forward to the next arc, titled 'The Beastlord' and featuring Raphael's journey to the East.

(Extra Note: Next up is a trio of Shorts called 'The Pets' which can be skipped if you're more interested in the story. They're mostly outright lewds focused on the development of individual characters, so provide some insights but are mostly porn. I hope you enjoy them if you choose to give them a read. Otherwise - see you in the next arc!)

Have a most excellent day.