Tale of Infinity: A Duel at Dawn by Only Human

Tale of Infinity: A Duel at Dawn

Only Human, Abduction, Abs, Abuse, Action, Adult, Adult Content, Adventure, Age Play, Alternate Reality, Alternate Society, Anger, Angst, Anthro, Anthropomorphic, Aroused, Ass, Ass Worship, BDSM, Bad Language, Ball Fondling, Balls, Bareback, Bathing, Big Boobs, Big Tits, Biting, Blowjob, Boar, Bondage, Boobs, Booty, Bound, Breast, Breast Fondling, Breathplay, Breeding, Brothel, Bubble Bath, Bukkake, Busty, Butt, Camp, Camping, Canine, Captivity, Cervine, Chain, Character Development, Cock, Cock Worship, Collar, Compassion, Conquest, Cougar, Coyote, Creampie, Cuddling, Cum, Cumshot, Deep Penetration, Deep Throat, Deep Thrust, Depressing, Depression, Desperation, Destruction, Dick, Disaster, Discipline, Dishonesty, Doggystyle, Domination/Submission, Drama, Dread, Dystopia, Ejaculation, Emotion, Emotional, Epic, Erection, Erotic, Evil, Exhibitionism, Experience Play, Explicit, Extreme, Facial, Fantasy, Fear, Feline, Fellatio, Fight, Fighting, Fingering, Fondling, Forced, Forced Sex, Foreplay, French Kissing, Fucking, Generation Gap, Gore, Groping, Handjob, Hard-On, Harsh, Hate, Heartbreak, Heavypetting, Hug, Humiliation, Humping, Kidnapping, Kinky, Kissing, Licking, Lion, Love, Lust, M/F, M/M, Mammal, Masochism, Massage, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mating, Messy, Mild Abuse, Mild Bondage, Mild Drama, Mild NC, Mild Romance, Mild Spanking, Mild Violence, Minor Bondage, Missionary, Molesting, Morbid, Multiple Species, Muscle, Muscle Worship, Muscles, Musk, N/C, NC, Naked, Naughty, Nude, Nudity, Oral, Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Ownership, Pain, Penetration, Penis, Pet, Plot Development, Predator/Prey, Predicament Bondage, Prostitution, Pseudo-Rape/NC, Public, Punishment, Rape, Rat, Restrain, Rodent, Ropes, Rough, Rough Sex, Sad, Seed, Semi Consensual, Semi NC, Sex, Sexy, Size Difference, Size Queen, Slavery, Snowballing, Sorrow, Spanking, Speciesism, Spooge, Stealing, Story Progression, Story Series, Striptease, Sub, Suggestive, Suspense, Teasing, Temptation, Tiger, Tragedy, Training, Unconciousness, Vagina, Vaginal, Vanilla, Various Species, Violence (Not In Yiff), Wet, Wolverine, Wrestling, Yiff, Yiffy

~Episode 3: A Duel at Dawn~

Thorpe's words stunned Aurore like a slap to the face. He was going to buy her. It may have been her deepest, base desire, but it was a distant second as opposed to the life she knew she wanted.

Carmen... she'll...

Aurore shook her head. There was one last option. She could find a way out, yet.

The coyote then said one word that, in another life, under any other circumstances, she wished she would never have to say to such a comely, charismatic beast.

"No."

The lion showed now outward reaction. Remarkably, he kept his calm. Through an open window, the moonlight tempered his visage, cooling his obvious, latent anger.

"You try to poison me--"

"Merely with torpor leaves," Aurore tried, and failed, to defend her actions.

"Oh, so it was 'merely' in order to steal from me--and now you claim to have say in the matter?"

"I mean 'no', as in, you cannot, by law." She spoke with strength in her voice, only wavering slightly due to her monumental afterglow. "In Bethena, even slaves have _some_rights."

Thorpe chuckled in disbelief. He crossed his arms. "What's keeping me from dragging you to your master and telling him what you've done?"

"Last Grace of the Accused," Aurore said, leaning over her knees and planting her palms on the mattress. "In a grievance between two individuals, the Respondent--that's me--I have one last chance to defend my honor."

"What honor?"

Aurore disregarded the comment.

"I challenge you." The indignant spark in her eyes matched that in Thorpe's. "To a duel. If I win, then we speak of this to no one."

"Ludicrous," Thorpe stood as he derided her. He salvaged his damaged loincloth by tying a knot in the torn waistband. "You could easily be lying."

"What, do you have a bag of Liar's Dust laying around?"

"Actually, I do, back at my camp. We will go there, and if your 'Last Grace' truly exists, then that's where the duel will take place."

"I'm not lying."

"We'll see," the lion dismissed. He turned around, torn loincloth tied hastily to his hips. "How shall we duel?"

"We must agree."

The lion chuckled again. Apparently, he agreed to humor her. "Alright. I propose a battle-of-the-bed. Surely, you object."

"Are you joking?" Aurore cocked her head to the side, frustrated. She leaned back against the headboard. "You'd just dominate me again, like you did just now."

"That's the idea," Thorpe acknowledged. "What do you propose?"

"Swords."

"Make that 'any sharp weapon', and I accept."

"I'll still bring a sword." Aurore shrugged.

"Armor?"

"Wear what you wish."

"Not to the death." The lion resolved. "I've no wish to kill you, and even so, you're still at a disadvantage. I'm nearly thrice your weight."

"To first blood," Aurore countered. "That way, it's somewhat fair."

Thorpe donned his vest, then lifted his mane so that it wasn't trapped beneath the fabric. "It seems we have an agreement." He reached down to her and took her hand, pulling the coyote to her feet.

Her knees buckled and nearly gave under their own weight; another string of lion seed started to run down her thigh.

"If your law is legitimate, and you fight fairly," Thorpe continued. "Then I will defeat you fairly, and you will be mine for keeps," the lion coldly boasted with a confident, anticipatory scowl.

The lion swiped his rune off of the nightstand, making sure to keep it out of her reach.

"This is what you intended to steal, isn't it?"

Aurore didn't respond, through word or gesture.

"Don't bother answering." Thorpe swung the glowing stone behind his back and fastened it to the base of his tail. He then proceeded to grab Aurore, and take the coyote into his arms. She lay in the crook of his shoulder, head resting against his chest. It was impossible not to notice how he pawed, gently, hungrily, at her arse. "Put your hands on your breasts."

With minimal hesitation, she obeyed, palming each nipple with informal familiarity.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," he ordered as he proceeded toward the window, large enough to let him slowly hurdle through. It made sense. The main hall was full of witnesses, and it was the only remaining exit. "If you so much as move your hands without my permission, our deal will be void; I will take you back to my camp where you will be raped into total submission, and we all shall then depart. You will never again wear clothes of any kind, your only domain will be my bedroll, and you will never see the sky again for as long as you live. That is the alternative."

He had said it so objectively, as if he were reciting an itinerary. As he carried her out into the moonlight, he squeezed her rump again.

"Do you understand?" It may have been a question, but he wasn't asking.

"Yes."

The two found their way to the workers' stables with little trouble. A guest in a whore's quarters was uncommon, and it drew a few eyes, but no one asked questions. They all saw the fury in Thorpe's eyes.

The lion set Aurore down on her feet, next to her bed. He threw the curtain shut behind them. Aurore still covered herself.

"May I move my hands, sire?"

"Not yet." He approached her, laying his muzzle atop her shoulder. His hands slid around and clamped down, overtop of her own. "Acquire your armor and weapon. Nothing else. Once I own you, we will return here for the rest of your things." He then nibbled her on the ear, darted his hand between her legs, and probed inside her. She gasped at his touch, knees shaking anew, and she let out a light whine as he gave her a hearty slap on the arse.

He seated himself on her bed. "Now, you may move your hands."

Now shaking, she obeyed, then promptly opened the trunk that held her armor. There it lay, folded, even mended. Some of the cracks in the leather plating had been welded shut with some powerful, if hasty, runework.

Carmen must have put it back for me...

"Aurore," Thorpe said. She flinched. It felt odd to have him call her by name.

The lion sat back, spread his legs apart, and motioned to the empty space before him. "Dress."

The way he said it, it's as though he ordered her to strip naked.

With a sulk in her tail, she obeyed, yet again. She tossed her breastplate, leggings, boots, buckler, and undertunic on the bed, beside him.

"Hold," he ordered. She froze. The lion lifted the blue tunic to his nose and inhaled deeply. "This is neither armor nor weapon."

"It keeps the armor from chafing against my breasts," she explained.

Thorpe chuffed through his nose in disdain. He tossed the tunic to her. "Your body was intended_to produce young and feed them. Does the chafing not make you realize that armor isn't _natural for you?"

The comment bristled Aurore's fur. For the first time, he had legitimately angered her.

Strong females produce strong young, you fool.

She didn't talk back. Instead, she slipped the tunic over her head; it was almost too tight for her. It didn't cover her nethers. It didn't even manage the curve of her rump.

"It must be said," the lion spoke with utter seriousness. "You have marvelous tits."

"And this is the last time you will ever see them."

The lion rolled his eyes, dismissing the empty threat. Once the tunic was in place, he threw the breastplate toward her, which she put on with minimal effort. The sleeves had bunched up slightly, but she smoothed them out.

Before relinquishing her leggings, Thorpe warned her. "Try not to kick around too much in these. Some more of my cum might leak out of you and stain them."

Aurore's tail tucked as he chided her.

Why does he have to be so... formidable? Charismatic?

Once her boots were on her feet and her shield on her wrist, she returned to her locker and retrieved her short sword. It was a crude, haggard thing, somewhat resembling a machete. With only one edge sharp enough to cut flesh, the other edge could be used as a club. It was more of a tool than a weapon.

However, it had served her well in the past, and she had killed with it before.

As she turned about, the lion stood before her, just out of reach.

"I'll be taking that," he said, hand outstretching.

"You won't be stabbed in the back," Aurore sneered, more condescending than she intended.

"Give me your sword, or we resort to my alternative. My bedroll isn't too bad."

Before he finished his sentence, Aurore had tossed him his sword, still in its sheath. With nothing else for her to secure, she wheeled idly, looking about her room.

"What now?" she asked.

"Hands."

The coyote brusquely laid her palms upon her armored breast, then gave him a demanding eye, asking him again what she should do.

The lion opened his arms, as if prepared to carry something, or someone. Aurore's short sword sat tucked in his waistband. She wouldn't be able to reach it without triggering Thorpe's "alternative".

For another time, among countless times that evening, the coyote submitted herself to the lion's discretion, seating herself in his grip as he pulled her up into a lover's carry.

Their eyes met. There was a connection; between she, curled up and docile, like a pet; and he, cradling her softly, but strongly, like an owner.

Their lips met. Neither one knew which one had instigated, but there was no denying that one, innate bond. Something pulled them together. Something they couldn't measure, describe, or even barely perceive.

As the lion carried her out, into the night, a distant, miniscule possibility refused to leave the back of Aurore's mind.

If he only offered to buy Carmen, as well. Maybe Tieli... I'd let him have me, no trouble.

"Once we arrive at my camp," Thorpe looked down to her as he strode down the dark, empty main road. "You will have a few hours to rest. At dawn, we'll have our duel." He leaned in and brushed the tip of her nose with his own. "You may start sleeping now."

At his request, that was exactly what she started to do. A subliminal sense of fatigue surfaced within her. Less than twelve hours ago, she had been hunting. As the lion's bold, steady steps carried her to the edge of town, Aurore raised no objection as her eyes began to shut of their own accord.

"Try not to enjoy it too much when you lose," the lion gently told her as she drifted off to sleep. "They do want a show, of course."

"Excuse me," a new voice called to her, cautious and soft. "Canine?"

Aurore's eyes drifted open, one at a time. The morning breeze nearly chilled any part of her that was only covered by bare fur.

In a half-awake haze, she ran her hands over her body, finding her armor still in place, just like she left it. For some reason, she had assumed she would likely wake up naked, about to be stuck on some strange merc's cock.

Having instead woken up in relative safety, the coyote turned her head slowly, intently taking in her surroundings.

She was lying on her side, upon a long, wooden crate with a blanket draped over it. Around her, in an open, expansive grass field, was a tight, slipshod cluster of covered wagons, carts, supply caches and a couple of campfires.

Aurore could see less than a dozen males around the camp, and most of them were huddled around the fires, leaving most of them as silhouettes that she could hardly differentiate. One thing she noticed is that none of them looked canine, save for a few.

She saw a boar, aged, grizzled, and angry in his movements. Perhaps he was in a bad mood because the tusks made it difficult to drink. He was repeatedly spilling over himself, as he was also being shoved repeatedly by two smaller beasts.

The two beasts were strange in stature, about the same build as a weasel, but lacking the sleek composure. Instead, they were scraggly, nearly shaggy.

One belonged to a species that Aurore couldn't recognize. Slim, yet hungry looking, he possessed light fur with stripes that began beneath his shoulder blades and ended at the base of his tail. His face was narrow, angular, like that of a fox, perhaps more like a deadly weapon. He looked as though he could easily eat live young.

The second of them was much worse.

Aurore had heard of the species. Small, muscular, and malicious, the second beast had sleek, black fur, with a white stripe at the top of his pectorals and another stripe above his rump. His face naturally looked cruel, as if lacking something whenever not dripping with the blood of his prey. She had heard of the species. Scourge devil. That was all they were called.

Regardless, their hijinks were ended by a taller, meaner beast.

He walked up behind and knocked the two jokers' heads together, a massive specimen who stood taller than all who surrounded him. He looked like the unnatural offspring of a badger being forcibly raped by a draft horse. Tall, shaggy, and packed with muscle. Aurore didn't know of his species. Perhaps some form of Dire Wolfdog.

I'm guessing they're all male.

At the camp's edge nearest the town, placed asymmetrically around a wide warproot tree, there was a ring of narrow posts driven into the earth, each perfectly upright, each with runic symbols carved along their respective lengths.

That's where our duel will be held.

Aurore's appraisal of her surroundings was cut short when someone started scratching her behind the ear. It must have been the one who was talking to her.

She leaned into the claws doing the scratching. They were tremendously sharp, but deft, and very gentle. Her body to twist and curl at the unwieldy comfort of it. Nonetheless, it reached a point where she had to pull away. Too much of a good thing.

By reflex, she grabbed the hand that had been laid on her. It was a big hand, with orange and white fur. Black stripes.

Next to her was a tall, stern-faced tiger, likely older than her, but only by about half a decade. He sat on yet another crate, shins crossed and feet tucked in. The tiger wore very little, only what must have been a repurposed black handkerchief tied about his groin. It did a poor job of concealing the stacking bulge at the center.

His face wasn't like that expected of a usual tiger. The profile wasn't majestic, but austere. The slope of his forehead lined up with the bridge of his muzzle, which curved downward like the angle of a scythe. His jawline was tense; the grim expression seemed a familiar one to him.

He wasn't all that muscular either, to Aurore's surprise. Instead, his body was bedecked with rigid, meticulously-toned sinew. He was indeed well-built, but given the fact that he was almost as tall as Thorpe, compared to other big cats, and other tigers, he looked downright gangly.

"I'm very sorry," the tiger bowed while seated, palm placed against his bare chest. "My name's Latsif, and I was watching you while you were sleeping--I mean, Thorpe ordered me to _guard_you--"

"I understand," Aurore interrupted, rising to a sideways seated position, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. "Much obliged."

Latsif nodded, then his expression shifted. Curiosity had taken hold.

"Is it...?" the tiger hesitated. "Was it bad when I...?" he gestured toward her ear, the one he had been scratching. He inhaled sharply, then put forward a complete sentence. "Was it a sign of kinship or condescension when I... scratched your ear?"

"Depends on how you do it." Aurore smiled, bowing her head and presenting the same ear to him. Latsif had been satisfying an itch that Aurore didn't know she had. "You may continue."

"Oh, I..." the tiger's voice trailed off, nervously placing his hand back on her head. As he resumed, Aurore's tail started to wag, whipping against the crate on which she was sitting. "I've just never seen a canine before. Pardon my asking, but are you a timber wolf or a coyote?"

"Coyote," she answered, caught off-guard by the tiger's politeness. As Latsif pulled away, she instinctively grabbed onto his wrist and licked over his claws as they retracted. He was making a marvelous first impression, and she wanted to let him know. At her encouragement, the tiger brought his claws back and briefly scratched under the corner of her jaw. "Thank you for asking. Most just assume, and they always assume wrong."

"Well," Latsif sighed. He rested his hands on his knees. "If I were to only have one vice, it would be that I ask too many questions."

"That ain't 'is _only_vice..." a newcomer chimed in.

Latsif buried his face in his hand. "Oh lord..."

A puma sprung from nowhere in particular and latched onto Latsif's back, nearly knocking the tiger off balance. The puma, burly enough to possess an alluring outline, but not sculpted enough to define his abdominal muscles, wore nothing at all around his body, sporting a throbbing erection that bore a dangling drip of precum on the end. However, he wore a bandana atop his head, about the same size cloth as the one Latsif had used to protect his own modesty.

The cougar stood over Latsif and gave him a towering embrace, slapping amorously at the slighter cat's abdomen with a lax, open paw.

"Listen to me," the cougar said. "Only chumps introduce themselves. Let me do it for you." Without waiting for Latsif's approval, the cougar addressed Aurore. "This 'ere is Latsif of Tide Reach, deepest diver in all the Eight Shores."

"She knows my name, Salibon," the tiger grumbled. "You may leave."

Salibon dismissed the dismissal completely. He grabbed the tiger by the jawline and made him look directly at the uninitiated coyote.

"This one's a fucking saint," the cougar continued. "Before Thorpe went into town, he made us all arm wrestle to see who went on the first night. Latsif here beat Curts, the bear, with 'is own raw strength and let 'im go anyway!"

"That's not true," Latsif cut in. "Curts beat you. I beat Dirk and let him go ahead of me."

"Now that you mention it," Salibon segued, dropping his rump onto Latsif's tail, pinning it in place. Although shorter than Latsif, Salibon possessed a taller torso, making him slightly taller while seated. The cougar then wrapped his arms idly about Latsif's chest from behind, resting his smooth, cream-colored muzzle against the back of the tiger's neck. "I've no idea what you'd do in a brothel."

At this point, Salibon brought his hands over the tiger's ears, then leaned over to Aurore and whispered, all in one breath. "Never seen him fuck a girl. I think he's a virgin."

"I can hear you!" The tiger was starting to get angry.

"Come to think of it," the cougar continued. "I don't even know if he likes cock or cunt!" At that, Salibon secured his arm across Latsif's chest, then slid his other hand downward and fondled the tiger overtop the improvised breechcloth. In a single grab, he took solid hold of Latsif's cock and balls. "Shame, really. If you were gay, you'd be the only hole I'd need."

Aurore didn't know how to react. Whether she feigned amusement or discomfort, she'd offend at least one of them. At this point, she was merely content to observe.

"That's enough!" Latsif tried to bat Salibon's paws away, but they relinquished him of their own accord. It appeared that Salibon was the stronger of them, leaving Latsif's dignity solely in the hands of a lecherous, oversexed mountain lion. The tiger turned his head, ready to reprimand. "I _outrank_you! Do that again, and I'll--!"

Latsif's telling-off was broken off when Salibon brought their muzzles together, in a short, passionate kiss. With that, and a lick on the nose, the cougar rose, swung a leg over the simmering tiger, and ambled confidently towards the nearest campfire. He turned about as he departed, and addressed both Latsif and Aurore for a final time.

"If you didn't love it, I wouldn't do it!" Salibon shouted, before turning his attention to Aurore. "And nice to meet you, she-jackal! You can call me 'Sal'!"

Before Aurore could even acknowledge the puma's existence, Sal had spun around in a flamboyant flair and departed, long tail waving slyly over his shapely rump.

"He's, uh..." Latsif stumbled, nervously scratching his chin, now damp with Sal's drool. "He's a bit of a naughty one, all right. At first, he seems like a vulgar, ravenous fool. Once you get to know him, he drops the foolish part."

The tiger shook his head, then stood with a sense of urgency, trying not to draw attention to the bead of white, translucent fluid that had seeped through his breechcloth.

"Do you know how the duel will work?" he asked, extending his hand toward Aurore.

"Thorpe and I discussed the rules," she replied, letting him help her to her feet. Immediately, she noticed something remarkable. Given how deeply and intensely Thorpe had fucked her, Aurore had expected her legs to be weak and shaking under her own weight, like they had before. Now, she felt refreshed, completely rejuvenated. "That's amazing," she noted.

"I... helped heal you as you slept," the tiger nodded. "Thorpe had me remove your leggings temporarily and use runes to revitalize the muscles in your thighs and your, um, above_your thighs." The tiger cleared his throat. "You'll still tire quickly. It wasn't a perfect heal. Something, uh, spilled _out of you during the application process, so it sapped away some of the runic energy, wasted it. You may not feel fatigued now, but don't jump around unless you have to.

"Regardless, I was referring to those, not the conditions." Latsif pointed toward the ring of poles jutting out of the ground. The two of them approached as he explained. "That will serve as the boundary of the arena. When the boss returns, you will enter with him, and a wall of runic energy will form between each post, preventing either of you from leaving until the fight is over."

"Yes. Thank you. I know how Barrier Staves work. I've just never seen one up close."

"Just like me with canines?" Latsif mused, then struggled to find something to do with his idle hands. Quickly he settled to place them on his hips as he continued to inform her.

"Do you know the runic word for 'wall'?"

"I do not."

"It's--" the tiger almost told her, then cast a weary glance at the Barrier Staves. Not wanting to set them off, he pulled close to Aurore, and pressed hiss muzzle against her ear. "The word is this: 'h'yiilt'."

"H'yiilt?"

"Yes. Oddly enough, it sounds very close to the word 'yield'. It doesn't sound similar enough to activate_the Staves, but if said in a close-enough vicinity, it can _deactivate them."

"So, if a duelist were to surrender..."

"...he would simply shout 'yield', the barrier would drop, and he would be considered the loser."

"I think that's enough of an initiation, boy," the boar, short and plump, had approached from the campfire and waited behind the two of them during the tiger's little lecture. "Thank you, o kind leader."

"Aurore," Latsif said. "This is Gershawn, our alchemist."

"Don't bother introducin' us. I won't be callin' 'er by name," the boar scoffed. "It's a waste of time, the boss challengin' 'er. Female, canine, slave and whore? That's four reasons right there to just take 'er and run! None 'uh this legal crap."

"Thank you, Gershawn," Latsif groaned. "Anything else?"

"Just came to tell yeh that the boss is on 'is way." Gershawn looked Aurore up and down, then chuckled. "Can't wait to see 'er put in 'er place. Canine or not, tits are tits, and I bet she's got fine ones."

Almost immediately at the boar's mention, Kensin Thorpe had arrived, striding forward from the center of camp. His body was covered entirely in a long, baggy black cloak; only his muzzle poked out from under it.

Aurore had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She knew exactly what would happen. The duel would start, and the lion would toss his cape to the wind, revealing some extravagant, ostentatious set of armor.

"Gershawn," the lion spoke sternly. "You've said enough. Tell the others to gather around."

"Aye, sir," the boar bowed his head and left meekly, eyes meeting no one else's as he departed.

"You," Thorpe spoke to Aurore. "Step inside."

At his behest, that's exactly what she did. As she entered the ring, Thorpe gave another order.

"Latsif, bring her sword and shield."

"Yessir."

"Hey! The captain's gonna fight!"

"He's fightin' a female?"

"Apparently, but he said somethin' about 'making it fair'."

With prompt aplomb, Latsif returned, with Aurore's sword in his left hand and her buckler in his right. From outside the ring, he tossed both to her simultaneously, which she then easily caught, one in each hand. Taking the sword by the handle, Aurore slashed viciously at empty air, the swing launching the sheath straight back at the tiger.

The scabbard was pitched a great deal higher than she intended, but the yaw was on point.

Ready and eager to impress, Latsif leapt roughly three meters into the air, caught the sheath with both hands, and carried his momentum through. He completed three-quarters of a backflip before landing three points: a hand, a foot and a knee.

As the tiger rose to his feet, he realized that something else had flown through the air: the cloth he had tied around his hips. His little trick had caused the thong to come undone, landing well out of arm's reach and granting Aurore a slightly more open view of the tiger's body.

Latsif's showed a slight twinge of panic, then devised a quick solution, holding Aurore's scabbard over his groin, hiding his genitals from view.

"Oh, come off it, boy!" Gershawn shouted at the top of his lungs, so that the eighteen eager sellswords at his back could hear every word. "We've all seen it dozens of times! You don't need a codpiece that big!"

No one could deny that it was the perfect thing to say. Thorpe's men expressed that very sentiment with gut-bursting laughter. One of the mischievous marsupials fell over laughing, starting show tears in his eyes.

Latsif nearly shriveled under the barrage of guffaws, catcalls, and whistles. Desperately, he scrambled backwards before stumbling onto his rump, where he drove the scabbard into the ground, where it continued to conceal the epicenter of his nudity while he scrambled for his singular, insufficient garment.

Why does he care so much that he's naked?

"No! No, love!" Salibon taunted from the center of the throng. "Don't put it back on! You're perfect like that!"

"Enough," Thorpe beckoned them, raising a hand. There was a shade of mirth in his voice, which quickly faded as he changed the subject. "Listen, my friends. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"You're not reassigning Latsif as my concubine?"

"The answer is still 'no', Sal. Same as the last time you asked," Thorpe retorted, continuing to speak over the swell of snickering he had caused. "I'm afraid that the second night in this town is cancelled. None of you will be visiting the brothel."

The announcement was met with silence. Someone at the back shouted angrily.

"Are you _fucking_mental?!"

"This is a grievous misstep on my part as a leader," the lion deflected. He began to pace. "I apologize, and I will repay you all for having abused your trust.

"From the very beginning, it has been forbidden to bring any hired female along with our convoy as a permanent addition. Starting today, that rule is officially nullified."

Thorpe stopped pacing, and raised his arm. He pointed to Aurore.

"I present to you, our first camp bitch."

Aurore had steeled herself, but a sense of dread still washed over her. This had been Thorpe's intent ever since she had poisoned him. It was hardly a surprise. Nevertheless, it didn't make the possibility itself any less daunting.

Once again, the announcement begot not one word, at least immediately. A sparse few reacted with slow, nervous applause.

The marsupial who had cried laughing at Latsif's expense was the first to speak.

"Is she a fighter?"

After that, a flood of questions gushed forward.

"Is that a dog? A _real_dog?" "How big are her tits?" "Can she talk?"

"You bought us another mercenary?"

"Are you daft? The bitch wears that armor like a flayed man wears stitches!"

Thorpe quickly retook control.

"Her name is Aurore, she is a coyote, and she has challenged me to a duel. First blood."

"Does she have a death wish?" "So, she can talk..." "Is it true that dogs eat souls?"

"Is she daft?"

"I have accepted her challenge. Once I have subdued her, we will break down camp, retrieve our brothers at the brothel," Thorpe listed, turning about to face his opponent. "And then we will depart for Sulan."

With nothing left for him to explain, Thorpe grabbed his own cloak by the hood; swung it over his shoulders, off of his person; and sent it careening into the branches of the nearby tree; all in one circular, fluid motion.

He wasn't wearing some extravagant, ostentatious suit of armor. He wore no armor at all.

He was as naked as Aurore's blade.

"Refrain from pleasuring yourselves," he concluded as he stepped into the ring.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't beat your meat when he starts fucking the bitch."

"Oh."

Without hyperbole, the lion's body was absolutely perfect. Every section and group of full, packed muscle was intricately proportioned, as enthralling as it was undoubtedly mighty. Even his feet, hands, and head, things over which he had no control, were the perfect size to match his physique. He was perfect.

And then, like a pubescent girl, Aurore's eyes immediately darted toward the lion's cock.

In its current, flaccid state, it was easily a third as long as his thigh, with a width nearly that of Aurore's wrist.

She had to fight to keep her knees from buckling at the thought of its sheer volume. Its length alone would have been enough to send chills through her.

Around its base was the slightest trim of rough, bristly pubic fur.

It probably felt different than the rest of him...

In spite of that, Aurore managed to keep her voice even.

"Looks like you forgot to dress yourself," she prodded, brandishing her blade. "Didn't even bring a weapon."

"Actually, I did," Thorpe fired back, unflinching. "You'll feel it soon enough."

"You must be touched in the head," Aurore said in disbelief, ignoring the cheering of the sellswords. "You agreed to a duel of blades, and you're letting your cock flap around in the wind?"

"I figured I'd allow you the greatest handicap possible. Giving you the biggest target I could think of."

Thorpe lifted a hand and waved Latsif over. The tiger duly sprinted toward the tree among the Staves and scrambled his way up the side, to the top, where he then settled himself, straddled atop an outlying branch that jutted out directly over the center of the arena.

"Say the runeword on my mark," Latsif mediated, lifting his paw with his thumb, pointer, and middle finger extended. He dropped a digit as he counted. "Three, two, one."

"H'YIILT!"

Thorpe, Aurore, and Latsif bellowed the invocation simultaneously, rendering the cast as strong as their respective resonances combined, and then amplified by three orders of magnitude.

A transparent, glowing blue barrier snapped into existence between each adjacent Stave that surrounded them, forming so violently that it ripped the very air. A gust of wind swept over the arena, so strong that it staggered both Thorpe and Aurore. It nearly pushed Latsif from his perch, with the tiger slipping off the branch and only managing to hang on with one hand.

"As soon as I right myself, the match will begin!" Latsif cried out in exertion, kicking and lurching as he tried to pull himself back up.

"Try flexing your arse some more, beautiful!" Salibon pleaded, flattening his nose against the warping energy field. "I'm sure that'll work!"

No one runemaster possessed the strength to disrupt the barrier that the three of them had summoned. The boundary would only dissipate at the word of one of the three who had created it. It would take the strength of several hundred elite runelords to rend the wall, were they to rely solely on brute force.

As the tiger worked to shimmy back onto the branch, Aurore had one burning question.

"So, did you forget to use your Liar's Dust," she asked, seating the pommel of her sword into the heel of her left palm. "Or are you starting to trust me?"

"Oh, that?" The lion scratched his sac with his off-hand. A blatant effort to distract her, but effective. "I tested you before you woke up. Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Without taking her eyes off of the lion, Aurore brought her right hand to her mouth and blew on it. A sparse cloud of fine powder billowed from under her fur. He had interrogated her already.

Taken aback at the lion's clever maneuver, she gently answered his question.

"Yes. I did know that."

The cloud of dust around her hand flickered and glowed a deep, healthy green, a sign that she had told the truth.

Dammit.

"Turns out, you were lucid enough to answer some basic yes-or-no questions, and I learned that your 'Last Grace of the Accused' is a blatant lie."

Aurore's tail dropped, hanging limp. With nothing to defend her morals, she went on the offensive. "So why did you go forward with this, huh? Why not just take me back to Rindel?"

"Morale booster," the lion explained, jerking his head toward his men, who were starting to spread out around the edges of their little ring. "If they're not getting any hole in town, then I might as well show them what they'll be ploughing when they're on the road."

Just as Aurore's own morale started to shake, Latsif had thrown his own weight clumsily over his branch. Unable to regain all of his balance, he simply settled for draping himself over his perch, like a piece of dried meat.

"Oh, flog me, that's close enough. Begin!"

Instantly, any semblance of noise eagerly ceased. Dozens of eyes watched them through the fluctuating ethereal runeshield. No turning back.

For the first half-minute, they circled each other, each with a different intent.

Aurore scoured over Thorpe's every move, scanning for any form of weakness or underdevelopment in his fighting style. Thorpe merely strolled around the edge of the circle, waiting for his prize to come to him.

The lion didn't give her anything to analyze. He slowly, predatorily wandered, his eyes not once leaving hers. He didn't show any hints toward his stance, as he had no stance.

With nothing to gain by mere observation, Aurore dropped into a combat stance of her own, readied her blade, and charged.

She swung her sword about in a wide, light arc, aimed directly at the lion's center of mass. She didn't need to kill, just draw blood.

Her swing was far off from managing even that. Thorpe lurched onto his back foot, dropping quickly out of her attack range. She torqued her torso and transferred into a backswing, which he dodged with the very same method.

She brought the blade down in an overhead strike, which he sidestepped. In a follow-up, she spun around, kneeling and sweeping at his ankles. Thorpe jumped over the attack, then backpedaled further.

"You're faster than I expected," Thorpe said. "But your technique is atrocious."

Aurore spat at his words, then charged once more. This time, she had a plan. She wound up her strike, rearing the sword to her side, then, she slung her off-hand at the lion. Her buckler flew off her wrist.

It struck Thorpe on the nose.

He staggered, taking a few steps to keep from stumbling. He hanged his head, mane hiding his face. He held a finger across his nostrils, taking his eyes off of Aurore.

She took the opportunity, digging her shield off the ground before leaping forward, blade held high. Thorpe did something unthinkable.

He deflected her blade with the back of his hand.

He struck the sword at its flat side, sending it down on an arc that altered only slightly, cutting only dirt, and leaving Aurore wide open.

Before she lost momentum, the coyote took the new trajectory and accepted it, bringing it back around with a speed and angle that would have detached Thorpe's bicep, had it connected.

It didn't.

Thorpe reached across his chest with his far hand, and caught Aurore's sword arm at the elbow. He brought his free hand to bear and chopped down onto the coyote's forearm.

The sword leapt from her hands in a flagrant, uncaring arc, sticking into the ground, too far away for her to dive toward.

With her buckler still in her left hand, she swung it high, hoping to strike the lion on the head again.

No such luck. The same hand which had disarmed her then grabbed her other wrist. With the lion taking total control, he shook the shield from her grip, letting it fall to her feet.

Thorpe then stepped into the back of her calf muscle.

Undeniably, securely, she was brought to kneel in front of the lion. Before she could bite the lion's cock, she was shoved onto her back. Before she could scrabble to her feet, Thorpe retrieved the weapons she had discarded.

"You're tough," Thorpe fumed. Both of them were frustrated at the coyote's inexperience. "And that armor is bound to hold off a slithering drake, or any wild creature in the woods, perhaps an enemy's sword, but tell me this and think deep."

Thorpe turned his back on Aurore and flung her shield over the barrier, out of bounds. He threw her sword like he would a knife.

The blade splintered into the tree, like an arrow into a bullseye.

Everyone was silent, too dumbfounded to even voice their confusion. Aurore froze, having only climbed into a kneeling position. Thorpe continued his little tirade unimpeded.

"When was the last time you fought another living, thinking beast and won!?"

Aurore dropped onto her rump, eyes and jaw wide open. This was going to be much harder than she anticipated.

Maybe if I got my sword back...

The answer was 'never'. Not once had she fought or defended herself against a male beast and won. The male had always won. The male had always had their fill before discarding her. However, she had always made them bleed in the exchange, and that was what she had been counting on, here and now.

It was then that she noticed. She had been too distracted by the lion's impeccable body to notice something obvious, literally skin-deep.

The lion possessed no scars. Not one.

It was a universal rule that every fighter worth a damn could attest. If you got in a fight involving blades, you would be cut. Without fail. Chaos combined with sharp objects always resulted in pain.

And yet, this lion stood before her, not one follicle out of place. His pelt was as smooth as it was plush and vibrant.

The skill, reflex, and prudence needed to avoid such injury. It stunned her.

It's no use. I'll never get around him. But, if I did...

"I misspoke earlier," Thorpe continued, not waiting for her answer. Stern and confident, the lion wrapped a hand around his cock. "This is my weapon, but it will not draw blood. I will merely tame you with it."

Realizing she still held the same, dumbfounded expression on her face, Aurore consciously shut her muzzle and blinked. She had to wipe some drool off of her chin.

"Let us stop with this little prelude. Remove your armor, put yourself on your hands and knees, and present yourself to me." He opened his hands and batted at his cock from underneath, letting his length bounce against his fingers. It started to harden. "If you do so right now, we can be gentle about this."

That settled it. Without a word, Aurore rose to her feet, dusted herself off, and raised her fists. If she surrendered, she would never see Carmen again. A smaller thought also entered her mind, which she half-heartedly dismissed.

If she went down swinging, he'd have no choice but to be rough with her.

Thorpe ran his fingers through his mane, then nodded.

"Suit yourself."

She hadn't made it three steps before the lion had her pinned to the ground, knees and face in the grass. There was a struggle, bucking, writhing, and a voice cracking from duress, but she might as well have not even tried. His body aligned with hers, knees kneeling upon her knees, fists clenched around hers, fingers intertwining.

Thorpe nipped her on the ear for having defied him, then proceeded to humble her.

The first to go was her right boot, then her left. After that, her leggings were peeled off her hips, then rolled down her thighs. With some awkward maneuvering, Thorpe pulled them free as well. The cool morning breeze ruffled her freed fur. It chilled her in the most lewd of places.

With both of her hands entirely encapsulated in one of his fists, there was no trouble in righting Aurore's torso and stripping away the last of her armor away, taking the undertunic with it and baring her breasts for all to see. As the garments rolled tightly over and around her body, there was a paused as they slid over her head. With a grunt, Thorpe lowered her back to the ground and pulled on her sleeves.

Now, once more, she was naked, like he.

But with her breastplate in his hands, her own hands were free. She used this to dig her palms into the dirt, and push her entire upper body against his own with all her weight. He didn't budge.

Like a savage discarding an obsolete tool, Thorpe tossed aside her last piece of armor, grabbed her wrists, and pulled them wide. With his weight and the curling of his abdomen, he bent her over, back into the dirt.

"You think... that's all... I've... got!" Aurore panted, breath run ragged.

Thorpe didn't reply. Instead, he buried his neck into the coarse, bushy fur at the back of her neck and deeply inhaled. His tongue slid out of his maw, and he gave her a long, heavy lick, from between her shoulders, along her neck, over her collar, up to the crown of her skull.

His breathing grew ragged, as well. She could tell he was flexing something. A very unholy set of muscles.

Then, something hot, thick, and familiar slapped against her abdomen.

Aurore's entire body jolted. Eyes wide, she soon felt a huge presence nestle in beside her ear. Massive, heavy gusts of breath washed over her.

Thorpe's grip changed. He released her wrists, then immediately, tenderly, irresistibly clamped onto her tits. She could feel his claws start to prod against her soft, captive flesh.

"If you look down," he glowered. It felt as though his words didn't use breath. "We shall stay in this position, and mate until you forget your very name."

Without thinking, as the thinking had been done for her, Aurore tilted her head back as high as she could. She lay the length of her muzzle along the ground, obedient, though it put a strain on her breathing.

For a moment, they said nothing, the only sound being their collective panting. Heavy deep breathing coursed through the two of them, rhythms and abused wind overlapping.

She strained against the lion's weight. Hopeless.

Carmen... she felt Thorpe pull back. A massive paw laid into the back of her neck. The other plied lightly at her rump. Don't hate me...

The lion, once again, showcased his formidable experience; he lined himself up without the use of his hands.

The head prodded against her; she whimpered. Her tail tucked, hindered by the lion's cock, before draping down the side of the twitching, yearning flesh.

Like before, Thorpe used his weight to push into her. Slowly, and unopposed, he claimed her, penetrating her with the speed and momentum of a two-ton stone lowered gently.

Aurore's eyes were open, but she disregarded her entire sense of sight. Her remaining four senses were facing the true burden. She became increasingly aware of how large her tongue was, taking up too much space in her watering maw.

Once the lion had delved half as deep as their first time, he spoke again, at long last.

"Forfeit."

"No," she grunted.

"If you surrender now, then we can finish this in private. I'd like that."

Aurore's lips parted, spittle seething through grit teeth.

"Oh yeah?" she shifted under his imposing grip. "I've handled bigger," she lied, then lied again. "You felt bigger last night."

"Last night?" Thorpe stooped forward and hissed in her ear. "Last night was foreplay. If you wish to retain any semblance of self beyond this day, you will submit."

"Or wh-what?" her second word sounded as though it had tried to jump back down her throat. He had just forced another inch; it was to be expected. "You plan to_defile _me?"

"I plan to desecrate you!" He whispered with such intensity, he might as well have shouted. His arm snaked around her neck and pulled tight, binding her speech in the crook of his elbow. "I will recant my previous decision. My men will go down to your brothel, while we remain here. I'll have food and drink thrown over the barrier, and we'll be at it until the sun sets, then rises again.

"And then, tomorrow morning, when I have forced your mind to flee," the lion rested his fingertips on the bridge of Aurore's muzzle. He summoned his claws. "I will give you the slightest_of cuts, drawing just enough blood to end this _farce. We will break camp and abscond with you, never to be seen again, but by that time, you'll be unable to care. You will be a blank... insensate... husk."

Her head started to swim. She felt heavy, as though the ground was ready to open up and swallow her at any moment. She knew that he could easily break her. She could give up now. Regardless, her pride took over. She wanted him to try.

Aurore shut her eyes. She reached out, and took the grass into her fists, like she had done with those sheets...

Thorpe didn't reply, not right away. He merely growled, too aggravated to find suitable new words, so instead, he repeated older ones.

"Suit yourself."

Just then, his penetration stopped. They had reached her limit, her cervix. This time, however, Thorpe was unfazed.

With expertly measured cruelty, the lion rolled his hips, slowly, cruelly sliding back before thrusting back in again. Back and forth. Nice, gentle, and firm.

It grated at Aurore's senses, the passive, effortless dominance. Whenever a massive, powerful brute had ravaged her in the past, there had been a percussive nature to it. Their hips would slap together. His balls would bat against her.

Nothing like that occurred here; he was far too big. Instead, Thorpe strained carefully against her. Their hips didn't meet. He didn't bottom out. He just... filled her.

At a rate that implied that he was taking her pleasure into account, Thorpe leisurely withdrew before ramming forward with a strength that caused Aurore to spasm at his very touch. Gradually, he settled into a steadier rhythm. He lifted himself off of her, now only holding her by the back of her collar and her hip, which he now pulled back into each of his thrusts.

They had an audience, and it wasn't silent. Speechless chuckling, ogling, or an offhand comment, like some rowdy travelers who had come upon some wild creatures furiously mating off the side of the road.

"She's just gonna take it?" "That has to be breaking her." "I'd bet she's loving it!"

They weren't wrong. As the lion casually bred her, a sick excitement gripped her heart. More than anything, she wanted this to be all that mattered. Under any other circumstances, she'd think she was dreaming. She'd beg for him to rail harder against her. She'd wail as loudly as she wanted to, right now.

Instead, she was losing everything she cared about.

Her muscles clenched of their own free will. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and waited for the feeling to pass. It didn't.

After a flinch and a particularly deep growl, Thorpe released her hip, before pressing his knuckles into the small of her back. She arced at his touch, just as was expected of her.

"Raise your hips."

She did, eagerly lifting her tail as she did so, and laying it across her back; she was able to take more of him for it, giving the feeling that he was lowering into her.

A barrage of sinuous, lustful energy battered against her pride. Each thrust, each grope, each breath was a bolt of lightning launched from within her very body, sparked by the lion's incomparable skill.

Now, she started to struggle, not to escape, but to push back against him. Her rump bowed against him. She started her own full, deep thrusting, humping at the air the same way she wanted him to start mounting her.

"OH GOD!"

She loved how they watched. She loved how they laughed. Someone was screaming, as if in agony.

She pulled one of her hands from the earth and reached behind her, hoping to grab one of his wrists. She wanted him to grab onto her breasts again, to take hold and be yet more forceful with her.

He did something even better; he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. Her chest twisted in kind. She loved the feeling of helplessness, how he controlled her, yet still catered to her own pleasure.

She wanted to hate him. She wanted the ability to fight back, just so she could lose, and that he would ravage her with even greater force. She wanted him to fuck her like he hated her.

He stopped mid-thrust, his bitch filled to capacity.

She quieted down. It was then that Aurore realized that it was she who had been screaming. The unrestrained, agonizing cries were her own.

Aurore moaned with an upward inflection, as if asking a wordless question. She didn't want it to stop.

Before she could remember how to speak, Thorpe took her free arm off of the ground; secured both of her wrists within his unbreakable grip; and pried her arms out wide, up and to the side. He still knelt heavily into the back of her calf muscles; everything below her knees had started to fall asleep.

It was the perfect position for him to dominate her. She had less than no control.

It was then, that he decided to push deeper.

Aurore fell silent. It was then that she realized that the screaming had been her own.

No more words. No more snide remarks. No need for them.

Thorpe worked into Aurore using more of his weight than she had ever felt before. No thrusting, just a single, laborious push, straight against the coyote's defenseless cervix.

Her tongue lolled out, over her trembling lips. Her eyes started to grow dim.

A deep, labored breath escaped Thorpe, lifting right out of the lion's unshakable chest.

The coyote relaxed and let herself be taken. She wanted this. She wanted to take him. She wished she could take all of him.

And then, something deep inside started to part.

"YIELD!"

The Barriers vanished with a light pop. Everyone stared at her.

The word had formed itself and jumped out of her.

Thorpe stopped. He held Aurore still, giving her a chance to fully understand what she had allowed.

She had given up.

"I..." Aurore's voice shook, in disbelief. Unsure of herself, she repeated, softly. "I yield."

"Good."

Thorpe released her arms, which fell limply to the earth. He then leaned over her, took hold of her torso, and rolled back, onto his rump.

The coyote was lifted into the air as she rolled back with him, still in his clutches, still penetrated. Aurore had no choice. She reached up with both hands and took two desperate fistfuls of the lion's mane, just to steady herself. She was his, now.

The lion sat upright on the open field, his newly won coyote squirming in his lap. With most of his length still inside, he held her, assessing her with both hands, one at her breast, the other down her front.

This lower hand was indeed the more perverted. It had snaked over her right thigh, its palm pressed firmly against her abdomen, well below her navel. His fingers curved between her legs, around her vulva, his massive, twitching cock wedged between his middle and ring finger.

He held her like a cruel owner would hold a mewling, violated pet.

"We could keep going," he spoke softly, directly into Aurore's ear. She turned and looked into his eye. "They've taken a liking to you. Shall we give them a complete show?"

The coyote thought about her answer. She looked down at how the lion handled her body.

He could easily break her and enjoy doing so.

Her reply did not come across as she intended. She had hoped to make some kind of clever reply. Some sort of worthy comeback. Something along the lines of 'Let's not and say we did.'

"P-Please..." her voice trembled. Her muzzle forced an attempt at a contemptuous smile. "Please don't..."

Immediately, she was lifted off of the lion's cock and tossed onto the grass, landing on her hands and knees and too dizzy to stand on her own.

Before she could even try to clear her head, the lion stood over her, a foot on either side. He reached down and picked her up. As he lifted her, the coyote bumped into Thorpe's groin, with the lion's eager, unsatisfied erection leaning strongly against her back.

"That's a shame," the lion said as he hooked an arm around her, forearm locked under her breasts. "It's exactly what we're going to do."

With her fate decided, Aurore put up no struggle. There had been a time for that, and it had passed.

Their onlookers had a mixed reaction. Some were satisfied already, while most were still anticipating more to come.

A select few had broken off--with Latsif being among them, having vaulted out of the tree--and started to retrieve the Barrier Staves. One or two of them were rather rushed about it; they wanted to see the rest of the show.

"Gershawn," the lion called out as he fixed Aurore under his arm. He carried her like he would a stack of books. He took her to the tree. "Fetch a length of rope."

"How long, sir?"

"Long enough to bind her wrists."

Aurore was placed on her feet, directly in front of the sword that Thorpe had thrown. Nearly half of the blade had been buried in the wood, just from that one throw. The grip was in easy reach.

"Take it."

Then, something happened which caused her to yelp.

He slapped her upside the arse with enough force to make her feet briefly, barely leave the ground, sneaking in a good grope as he did so. Once her weight returned to her stance, the lion loomed over her, placing both his hands against the tree. She was cast entirely in his shadow.

"Go on."

Aurore was hesitant. She knew it had to be a trick. With no choice but to obey, she nodded, then reached out and grabbed the handle. She pulled.

The sword didn't budge.

She took hold with both hands, placed a foot on the tree trunk, then pulled with every last ounce of her remaining strength.

Nothing. Still stuck.

It didn't take long for the realization to strike. Had she not been pinned. Had she not yielded. If, by some incredible stroke of luck, she had reached the tree during their duel...

She still wouldn't have retrieved her weapon.

Just as Aurore had finished comprehending this new facet to the omnipresent hopelessness of her situation, something brushed against her nose.

A thin, coarse piece of rope dangled in front of her, whimsically dancing along the length of her muzzle. She looked up. Thorpe looked down at her, holding one of the ends. His expression had changed.

Now, he was having fun.

"Let Gershawn restrain you."

The lion then reached around her, grabbed her short sword by the handle, and with only the strength in his right bicep, yanked the blade free with a splintering crunch.

As a gesture, it was more than sufficient.

Aurore took the rope from Thorpe's hands and turned to the grinning, smug boar. She held her wrists together in front of her, allowing Gershawn to take them and quickly lash them together. Once she was secured, the boar gave her bonds a violent tug, pulling the coyote into an unpleasant, perverse embrace.

Gershawn was short, standing little more than half of Aurore's height. He had to lift his head slightly to prod at Aurore's breasts with his tusks.

The coyote writhed at his touch, with one of his hands circling about and giving her arse a solid, approving squeeze. The other reached around her other side and started scratching her back, just above the base of her tail.

Her fur bristled at the treatment. She would never admit, but she liked the scratching.

"Well, hang me," the boar spoke, and not to her. "Quite a catch, sir."

"I concur," the lion replied, grabbing Aurore by the shoulder and spinning her about. He pinned the coyote, back against the tree, then raised the blade.

She shut her eyes and looked away. Blade splintered wood once more.

"Now," Thorpe said.

Aurore opened her eyes, letting them fall on the lion, who had taken a few steps back. He glared back with a commanding brow.

The coyote looked up; her sword had been stabbed straight into the wood, and this time, it had been nearly hilted.

"You will hang yourself by your wrists," the lion ordered, arms crossed. One of his fingers lifted, pointing indirectly. "You will hang from your sword and offer yourself to me."

Truly, fuck yourself.

Before, he had been inconsiderate, then domineering, then outright tyrannical. By comparison, this was just immature.

For the first time, she showed anger toward Thorpe. Her expression lowered, as did her expression. Nonetheless, she complied.

The blade had been stuck very high in the tree. The height required would be roughly equal to Aurore jumping into the air and swinging her bindings over the lion's head. Difficult, unwieldy, but far from impossible.

Promptly, Aurore set aside her pride, lifted her arms above her head, and leapt the highest she could manage. She missed the jutting handle on her first attempt, as well as her second, but on her third attempt, she hooked herself just behind the pommel, making herself to hang, like a trophy.

With the last of her dignity now forfeit, Aurore looked up and saw Thorpe observing her, his arrogant glare now tempered slightly with satisfaction. He looked up at her restraints and saw something he wished to adjust. The lion approached, grabbed Aurore's wrist with one hand, and lifted her. He then pushed her further back, against the tree, then dropped her.

After a sudden jolt, the coyote now hung from above the sword's cross-guard, ropes resting on the blunt edge of the blade. Then, Thorpe grabbed the handle, and with one overhand stab, he jammed the sword deeper, pinning her restrained wrists between the grating, rough bark, and the hilt.

"Good," he grunted.

Ready to continue their little display, the lion roughly pulled her legs apart and pressed his body against hers. He laid his erection against her abdomen, driving another shiver through the coyote's entire body. Her arse rested in his hands, each of her thighs cradled in on top of each of his forearms. The lion leaned in, then kissed her, briefly, but deep enough for his lips to brush against her teeth. He pulled back, his breath starting to destabilize.

"Struggle if you wish," he whispered, then licked her nose. He lined himself up. "They've already seen the real you."

Before she had a chance to inhale, he lunged into her.

Their first two times together, he had been gentle. He had been slow. This time, he was not.

As soon as he had forced in a substantial length of his cock, Thorpe rocketed into a blistering pace, slamming his hips forward with the speed of a rapid stabbing.

Aurore sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth. Her knees tried to tuck together, meeting insurmountable resistance around the lion's arms.

He hammered her, like a blacksmith would shape some raw material into something he wished to forge. Immediately, their thrashing speed caused the coyote to start squirming; every exhale she made resulted in either a deep moan or a high-pitched whine.

Her body shook, with her soft, curvaceous flesh pitching and quaking in his grasp. Her rump rolled. Her tits bounced. Every few thrusts caused her toes to straighten, just so they could curl again.

Before long, she was panting, tongue scurrying over separated teeth. She could feel herself starting to fade.

This is just the beginning.

That one sentiment refused to leave Thorpe's mind. He added an upward angle to his penetration, and the coyote responded in kind, tugging at her restraints, throwing her head back. His tensions were coming to a froth. Soon, he would fill her.

She will pay for what she is.

His thrusts slowed, but deepened. Each time, he filled her to capacity, and each time, it would drive her up the tree trunk, only to drop her back down, hanging.

Now, she started to stare back at him, with her expression different. Her eyes had glazed over. Her tongue numbly slid over her teeth. Her thighs parted. She wanted this, and now she had no shame in admitting it.

Lucky for her, she embodies every single thing I crave...

As he started to climb toward his climax, he could feel Aurore start to spasm, the muscles inside her were fighting against him, not hoping to close him off, but wanting to take in everything he could give.

Just now, he was starting to lose his composure. Without his intention, the claws in his right hand sprung forward, digging into her flesh. They punctured her skin, but not deep enough to make her bleed. Thorpe preferred to keep it somewhat bloodless.

With conscious effort, the lion relaxed his hand, pulling his claws back, before pulling away from the coyote's rump and taking control of her jaw.

Aurore's free leg did the only reasonable thing, and wrapped around his waist.

It was what set him off.

The coyote shrieked. He roared.

He rode her throughout his climax, running her through with his seed yet again. It was another sign of how greatly he dominated her; some traces of cum remained in her womb from their first time together.

At the moment, he had nothing left to take from her, so the lion pulled out, letting his sperm spill onto the roots and grass. He had won everything he wanted.

He pulled the coyote's sword free, letting his prize drop to the ground.

"Untie her," he ordered as he walked away. Without looking back, he made his way to the campfire. "Throw her in the back of my carriage and proceed to break down camp. We depart within the hour."

Latsif crouched beside the limp, twitching canine. The tiger lifted her muzzle before looking straight into her distant, lost eyes. Concern forced its way onto his mind. He leapt to his feet and pursued his employer. "Sir, pardon my asking, but didn't you just... _break_her?"

"Seems like it, but no," the lion lightly panted. His hand shakily motioned back toward Aurore, like that of an athlete exhaustedly explaining his technique to an onlooker, having just completed some grueling feat. "She's the sort that lapses and goes blank once you start fucking her hard enough. Like Gershawn said: quite a catch."

The lion had more to say, but he interrupted himself, clumsily grabbing a pitcher of water from beside the fire and drinking deeply. He drank for as long as he could hold his breath, then came up for air, sighing with heavy relief.

"We might need to start carrying more water than usual," Thorpe said, a bemused smirk forced onto his muzzle. "The men will be filling her with so much cum, they might start getting dehydrated."

"Er," Latsif fidgeted, scratching at his chin and tugging on his tail, like he always did when nervous. "Yes. Quite..."

"Oi, Frye! What's wrong!?"

Thorpe let out a light groan. "Things can never go smoothly, can they?"

Yet another complication had arisen. A naked, wheezing, and frazzled fossa came sprinting up the road, straight from the town. Knowing something urgent was afoot, Thorpe and Latsif ran out to him. Immediately, they saw what was wrong.

Frye, the fossa, stumbled against Thorpe, and leaned on the lion's shoulder so he could catch his breath.

Blood covered his hands.

"Sir... the whorehouse," Frye panted. "There's trouble."

In less than half an hour, the entire convoy had mobilized and had started slowly rolling through town, all in single file. As they crept down the street, Thorpe's mind was rushing, filled with objectives, plans, and contingencies. He hadn't taken the time to dress himself, instead only taking the time to secure the rune to his forearm.

This wouldn't be some quick, clean stop in a border town, as he had hoped.

Once they arrived at Rindel's inn, Thorpe summoned the ten highest-ranked men among his convoy and started giving orders. They could all hear the raucous, overlapping shouting going on inside. Everyone in that building was panicking.

"Gershawn and Salibon," Thorpe said to the boar and cougar. "You will go through the inn and collect everyone you can find. Carry anyone too drunk to walk. Tell all who ask that we are to leave town immediately."

The lion turned to the remaining eight. Latsif was among them. "If you are not Gershawn or Salibon, then this applies to you: go around back, to the whores' stables. Aurore's quarters are sectioned off by a thick, grey curtain. Take anything that isn't bolted down. Sheets, clothes, chests, anything but the furniture. Go."

As his team quickly dispersed, Thorpe grabbed Latsif by the shoulder. "Make sure they don't take anything else.

The tiger nodded, then departed.

Before following Gershawn and Salibon into the brothel, Thorpe took a moment to steel himself. He had heard Frye's report, and it left the lion unsure how to proceed. Without much time to deliberate, Thorpe decided that the best approach would be to move in, dig deep, and pull away cleanly. Not once would he apologize.

He pushed open the door. The brothel was in chaos.

More than a dozen girls were crowded around the door to one of the bedrooms. They were kept at bay by a single whore: a lynx whose name Thorpe did not know. She held the door shut. Even through all the yelling and bickering, the lynx easily made her voice heard.

She was also covered in blood.

"Not one of you can help her!" the lynx shrieked into the crowd. "What's done is done, and it will be handled, so get the fuck_back! _All of you!"

It was all beyond the scope of a mere mess; Thorpe only needed to speak with one beast, and that beast stood behind the bar.

Rindel leaned over the glossy, sleek wood, weight on both hands, like he were holding himself up in order to keep himself from collapsing under his own rage. His eyes locked onto Thorpe.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, cat."

Aurore regained her senses in an unfamiliar place. Her sight functioned, but the coyote had trouble taking in her surroundings and dissecting them into individual objects.

Her vision started to clear, and she found herself in the back of a covered wagon. With a hard, wood floor and a heavy, thick canvas draped overhead, it felt like a lavish tent on wheels.

The surrounding interior was disorderly, but only lightly, as if someone had urgently tossed about their belongings as if to quickly pack for a night in town. Clothes were strewn about, all of them far too small for someone like Thorpe. He must have shared the stagecoach with someone else; there was another bedroll, which confirmed her theory.

Aurore noticed her hands were above her head; without mind, she lifted them, and immediately met a jagged, metallic resistance. She had been shackled to the floor. A quick shift in her weight revealed that she was lying on a thin, sturdy pad with light, elegant sheets on top. They possessed a dry, earthy scent.

She was chained to Thorpe's bedroll.

Someone came along and sat on her chest, small and light, yet strong. Soon after, something warm, stiff, and throbbing rested between her breasts. She was far too experienced with her profession not to know what it was.

It was the scourge devil who had watched Thorpe tame her earlier. He straddled atop her ribs, as stark naked as she. His body looked as though it had been expertly shaped, like he had been sculpted by a master, with the use of a sharp, broad knife. Smooth, rounded muscle abounded, with every crevice and curve deep and tight.

Although he was easily the shorter, he would have no trouble overpowering Aurore, even under the strictest of circumstance.

"Well, now we know what the boss fancies," the devil said. He laid his hand along her muzzle and slowly turned her head from side to side, inspecting her. "Face's a bit homely for my tastes, but..." he paused, giving himself time to slap at Aurore's tit, it lurched in just the right way. "Can't deny a body like that."

In a careful, confident jaunt, the devil leaned back and tipped Aurore's snout downward, directly against the red, engorged tip that protruded from her cleavage. Without question, she meekly wrapped her lips around the tip, suckling as was expected of her. Her throat strained against her collar; it was less than forgiving.

"The boss's had his fair share of whores on the road, but he's never taken one with him," he continued to disparage her. "You must be perfect for him, a tough, helpless bitch with big tits who can't defend herself once you manage to pin her down and start having some fun with her. Is that right?"

Aurore's ire rose, but out of the devil's line-of-sight, her tail had started wagging.

She wasn't fully awake quite yet.

"Hey, Mag," a newcomer appeared, entering the wagon through the flaps at the front. It was the foxlike beast, the fellow troublemaker. "We need to--oh, what the fuck're you doing?"

"First day orientation," Mag, the devil answered over his shoulder, offhandedly pressing the coyote's breasts together, around his throbbing length. "She's learning what she'll be doing from now on."

The non-fox crouched beside Mag and grabbed his shoulder.

"Thorpe hasn't allowed it."

"He hasn't _forbidden_it, either."

"Wait for him to give the word," the newcomer scolded, pointing to Aurore without looking. "And then you can continue. Now is definitely not the time."

Mag shrugged, then defiantly pressed his hips forward against the submissive coyote's helpless maw before letting go.

"All right," the devil scoffed as he rose to his feet. He then stepped forward so he stood astride the coyote's head. He looked down on her. "Next time, you'll wish you were mine, and you will be chained up again. That's a good look for you."

"What's a good look for whom?"

In a disoriented sidestep, Rikk entered the scene. The rat had only time to slip into his britches. It seems he was forced out of the brothel in a rush. Aurore knew not why. Rikk's lush, billowy shirt draped rumpled over his forearm, with the rest of his belongings having been shoved into his burlap sack. His hat must have been crushed.

It took the tired rat a moment to register that Aurore lay chained to the floor.

"What's the Lady of the House doing here?"

"Boss put on a show with her back at the camp," the foxlike one explained.

Mag finished the thought. "Raped her 'til she loved it, now he's buying her."

"Er..." the rat fidgeted, tipping back and peeking out toward the brothel. "So that's why he's talking to the Host. They both look pissed."

"Yeah, well, as far as I know, the boss has good reason to be." Mag tapped his fellow marsupial on the shoulder, and the two left, leaving Aurore alone with her new master's secondman.

"Well," the rat cautiously brought himself to the darkest corner of the carriage and seated himself on the floor. He likely suffered from a splitting hangover. "Days have been better than this one, and this one's only just started."

"What?" Aurore stammered. "What do you mean?"

Rikk slid his palm over his forehead, pressing his fingers into his eyes.

"A girl's been stabbed," he said. "Gravely."

Aurore felt a creeping dread shake her awake. She immediately asked a question that she didn't want answered. "Who?"

"I don't know her name. It's, uh, it's a squirrel."

That was it. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Oh, no..." Aurore felt her innards chill. Her head fell back against the floor. "Please... no."

"I'm going to be honest," Rikk tried his best to keep his voice level, and mostly succeeded. Shadow hid his face, but he clutched at one of his knees in a brutal, scared grip. "I doubt she'll live."

In a flinch, Aurore tugged at her chains. She managed to pull her wrists down hard enough to barely glance the tip of her ears. She looked up and found her shackles to be glowing a dim blue with a wide, pale aura. There was no keyhole, no lock to pick. The metal had been charmed with runic energy to form as manacles and restrain her, so there was no way for her to break free; the caster would have to willingly, specifically release her.

She was at the lion's mercy yet again.

But there might have been another option.

"Where's Carmen?" she asked, voice weak.

"She's..." Rikk weighed his words. He knew his explanation would make him look bad. "She's unconscious. I didn't really hold back with her. She'll be out of it for the next day or two, and I think it'll be a week before she can sit upright, let alone stand."

She could still possibly break these cuffs...

"Well, why don't you _buy_her?" she hissed with greater anger than she wished to reveal.

The rat didn't respond right away. He slumped as he sat, back sliding down the wooden siding. A deep sigh of defeat escaped him, like he had just been struck by a cruel, stupid irony.

"I ran out of money."

Before the rat even finish his thought, two more beasts came into the wagon: Rindel and Thorpe. That same, massive rune was once again tied to the lion's wrist.

Without a word, Rindel crouched over Aurore, a cold, venomous glare in his eyes.

"M-Master...?"

Quickly, like he were pulling a splinter, the tortoise wrapped his fingers under Aurore's collar, and pulled.

It opened instantly at his touch.

The tortoise rose to his feet. His actions implied that he was resisting the urge to spit on her. As he left, he spoke only to Thorpe.

"Get out of my sight."

The lion didn't reply; he simply nodded, dissatisfied, but accepting.

And so, Aurore's master left. She honestly believed that she would never see him again. Only one question burned in her mind.

What did you tell him?

"Rikk?" Thorpe said.

"Yes, sir?"

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

"An hour, maybe two."

"Well, that's an hour more than I've had in the last three days. I drove us here. Would you mind driving us out?"

"No sir. I wouldn't mind."

The lion approached Aurore, standing over her as he slowly, deliberately, undid the leather straps wrapped around his wrist. His next words were still directed toward Rikk.

"Thank you."

At his beckon, the rat staggered to his feet, then sidled past the entry flaps and seated himself, taking the reins into his hands. As the wheels jolted forward, Thorpe tossed his rune to the back of the cabin, concealed among satchels and burlap sacks. Aurore tried to speak.

"Please, I--"

Thorpe lowered himself and knelt over Aurore. She silenced herself as he sat, straddling her hips, but only lightly, enough for his genitals to rest against her abdomen. Then, he leaned over her, clamping his hand around the shackles at her wrists. With his other hand, he snapped his fingers.

With a crackling pop, the cuffs split open, and they, along with the chains, slithered away like shadows.

"You will not make a go for the rune," the lion ordered her. "You will not speak until I allow it. You will not resist me. As of right now, all I allow you to do is spread your legs."

The very notion alone shook a shaking gasp from Aurore's lungs. The lion let go of her wrists, but she kept them still, pinned to the floor above her head, helpless.

In a test of obedience, Thorpe pulled away. He sat on his heels, crouched at her feet, ready to pounce on his prey. He displayed not one emotion.

Unsure and awkward, Aurore pulled her arms to her sides. She partially sat up, resting on her elbows. She swallowed, then meekly parted her thighs, not very far, but enough to show that she was ready, giving him permission to partake in her. It was then that she was reminded of something mortifying.

She was still viscid with his seed.

With a satisfied grunt, Thorpe crawled, feet and knuckles, over his pet. He descended upon her, ready and eager to enact his full, unstoppable control.

He pressed his naked body against hers, using his colossal strength in order to gently, effortlessly pin her to his sheets. He didn't penetrate her, not right away. Instead, he brought his muzzle to the coyote's breast; squeezed it between strong, clinical fingers; and gave her left nipple a single, long, wide lick.

Aurore felt overwhelmed at the monumental power of it all. She didn't feel like a slave. She felt like a hostage.

No chains. No collars. No restraints. Just bare fur, naked flesh, and pure force.

Aurore had never felt so naked in her entire life.

She flinched. A powerful, terrifying rush coursed through her. Without thinking, she brushed his hand off, then began to backpedal. She rolled over and tried to crawl away. She was afraid.

Aurore had just barely found the edge of Thorpe's bedroll before the lion grabbed her ankle and pulled.

The coyote gave out a long, drawing whine as she was put back into place. The lion flipped her onto her back, pulled in close once more, and nipped her on the ear. He did not scold her. He did not speak. They were well past the use of words. They had regressed to the behavior of simple animals.

She tremored slightly, then took the lion in a trembling embrace. She brought her muzzle to his and softly, docilely licked him on the lips. She knew to submit. The alpha demanded it.

She slipped her knees behind the lion's thighs. He slid an arm around her hips and took her rump off the ground, rested in the crook of his elbow. He then brought himself to bear and penetrated her with no effort. He filled her with little more.

This time, they certainly were not silent.

They immediately settled into a sturdy, measured, bucking pace, and the coyote howled, yipped, even barked whenever he struck a particularly persuasive sweet spot. There was no thought toward her pleasure; that came naturally. He wasn't belittling her, or establishing who was in charge; that had already been well established.

His body covered hers, arcing and curling with the same strength used to pin her, as well as fuck her.

She didn't want this. She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to let her go. She knew he wouldn't. Now, every aspect of her existence was in his hands. The intimate, intrinsic control put a primal, carnal thrill into the lion's touch, the way he groped and measured her.

She hated him. She hated how he was better than her, how he used that superiority to tyrannize and use her. From this point forward, she was not her own, doubly so whenever this lion should demand use of her.

Aurore wanted it to never end.

The lion wrested the first orgasm from her viciously. He held her as she thrashed helplessly in his grasp. He felt her chest rise and fall as she buckled and screamed in pleasure.

She could take it. He knew. Her body was tough. Robust. Strong for a female. It meant he could truly lean into her, make her submit without fear of breaking her. Soon enough, he could make it so that he couldn't break her, even if he wanted to.

As the coyote began to come down from her forcibly-induced climax, she did something that Thorpe instantly found irresistible. She started growling. Her eyes locked against his. Her lip turned up in a quivering snarl. Her tail tucked, brushing unintentionally against his sac. It spurred him on. He wanted to see her fury. He wanted her to ignite.

Sharply and flatly, he grabbed onto her upper arms and slammed them down, pinning her shoulders to the floor. He arched his back and worked his weight into her. A hypnotic rhythm, her breasts rolled as he rocked his hips. She could do nothing to conceal herself in any way; she was his to enjoy.

Without shame or pity, he plowed her through a second orgasm. Her growl devolved into a belting, guttural howl. Thorpe watched as she progressed from anger to pain, and then to exhaustion. She started panting again, tongue lolling out.

He knew she would be a good girl. He wasn't done.

He grabbed her by the rump.

Aurore was lifted into the air. Desperately, she clung to the lion's chest with her arms and legs, her muzzle buried inside that thick mane. She found his neck and licked him, heavily, urgently. She loved her master.

Please... she pleaded, but didn't speak. Never--NEVER stop...

And then, the lion took hold of the coyote's hip, and pushed down.

His angle was off. The penetration was rough. It felt as though her body flexed inside to take him. He pushed to her limit.

She had just exhaled beforehand. The impalement forced her to take in a great lungful of air; she choked on the lion's mane. She sputtered and gagged as he worked her on his cock. Her eyes watered as she pulled away. There was no alternative. She closed her eyes and kissed him.

Their muzzles met, open and wanting. They tasted each other, tried to devour each other. At long last, he was starting to plateau. With his whole body, he thrust into her. With every thrust, he bent over, more and more, until he rammed her back into the bedroll.

Part of her stretched, just enough. Her ankles locked together behind his back.

The lion reared up, slammed into her, and let loose a soul-rending, devilish roar. Her entire body vibrated from the sound. She wanted all the seed that he could shoot into her.

Thorpe hammered away as he peaked, filling his bitch with a little too much cum. His seed truly filled her to capacity. His later thrusts pushed against the rising level of cum until it rose out of her, running down her rump and staining his sheets. She was perfect. The greatest purchase he had ever made.

Soon after their ears had stopped ringing, Thorpe's head fell like it had been dropped. Loose strings of spittle hung distended from his lips. Aurore lay shuddering beneath him, in shambles. With her ears pinned back and trembling, she aimlessly pawed at the lion's chest, filled with a frantic need to act, but unsure how to act. Thorpe took that as an opportunity to act upon her, yet again.

A messy, obscene squelching noise was heard as he pulled out of her, with cum spilling in an oozing dribble. The coyote recoiled. She inhaled deeply, as if she had been trapped underwater until just now. She even coughed and sputtered once her lungs filled.

His pet was exhausted, but not tamed. She wouldn't be for some time, which he adored. Part of him wished that she would never fully submit to him, that some ironclad part of her would always panic or try to resist.

The very idea of a malicious, struggling, impotent canine skewered Thorpe. It scoured him, straight into the darkest corners of his psyche, and now, he had one. In his embrace, atop his bedroll, was the subject of his fantasies, the object of his influence.

She was his.

With his plaything exhausted, he descended upon her once again, fondling her breast as he had done before.

It took Aurore several minutes to regain her composure. Her third consecutive orgasm had lasted long enough for the lion to pull out of her, kiss her heavily, and then return his attention to her left breast, all the while her body stretched in a mangled, austere twist.

Once she had calmed, the coyote looked to the lion, who had taken to her breast in the same manner that had previously caused her to attempt to flee. His rough, massive tongue tugged at her erect nipple like that of a presumptuous cub. This time, she allowed it. No. Allowing something would imply that she had a choice. This time, she embraced it. She loved how smug and entitled he looked, the relaxed manner in which he smothered her dignity.

Aurore laid her arms around Thorpe's neck, then rested her ankles on the lion's back, bidding him to continue, which he did, regardless of her invitation. He suckled at her tit, caressed her fur, free of resistance.

This would be their routine. Without fail, in the foreseeable future, Thorpe would viciously rape her at the slightest whim. Set in stone, it was brutal. Malicious.

Perhaps she could convince him to do it again before he went to sleep.

For the better part of an hour, they lay silent. He tasted her body, wordlessly groped at her flesh. The sound of his prodding tongue quickly brought forward a rising lust in Aurore. Steadily, Thorpe grew more lethargic in his movements.

"You know," she tried to goad him. Her voice shook too much to be even remotely convincing. "If this is you trying to enact your 'alternative', it's not very impressive."

Thorpe did not reply. His breathing was deep, even audible. He was sound asleep.

With her owner's head resting on her breast, Aurore lay back, pinned under the lion's weight. She brought her arms to rest on the floor above her head. She stretched and yawned. It all felt too familiar, like she could finally rest, like she was home.

Her head felt heavy. She only realized how tired she was once she allowed herself to lie still. Her eyes drifted shut, and she welcomed sleep.

She was at peace in this predator's clutches.

Aurore rushed through the forest, in a disgraceful state somewhere between sprinting and stumbling. Her armor had been shredded off of her. Only a longbow remained strung about her chest. She had come into this forest as the hunter, and now she fled as prey.

Every tree in sight had no branches and were much too close together, as far apart as she was tall. The rough, mottled, off-white bark looked foreign to her, and a thick, translucent blue haze pervaded all. She couldn't see a horizon, but knew exactly where it was. She stopped and leaned on a tree to catch her breath, but she wasn't tired.

She looked up; she could sense where the very sky ended. The trees didn't end. They all stood infinitely tall, like pillars that held up the heavens.

A slithering noise grew louder behind her.

She bounded forward and instantly fell to the earth. Her body felt too heavy to move anymore. She could sense them. They would likely kill her.

Aurore sensed no alternative. She lowered her head, then lifted her tail. She had heard stories of how creatures of the woods would rape some females instead of eating them. It offered her hope. They would kill every male.

Her pursuer paused. It had only been one. It didn't circle her. It merely saw. Evaluated. Calmly, like a trained specimen, it grabbed her by the hips and drew its tongue across her presented hindquarters. The serpentine tongue slid between her labia and delved deep, taking a quick taste.

Aurore fumed with hatred. The trembling coyote wanted to fight back, but she also wanted to live.

Satisfied, the creature loomed over Aurore and effortlessly plucked her from the ground. It tore her last weapon from her body; the bowstring had hooked under her breast, tugging at it in the most vulgar of ways.

Then, utterly helpless, Aurore had no option, save to accept her fate.

It clutched at her breast. A claw hungrily delved into her. That snakelike tongue flickered under her jaw.

She shuddered.

She awoke.

Aurore lay on her right side. Something was licking her face. Two powerful arms ensnared her. The right arm snaked under her torso and its hand clutched tightly to her breast. The left arm draped over her hip, its fingers wedged between her matted, unkempt thighs.

Her entire pelt had been made unclean by recent events. Matted and damp with sweat and cum, Aurore fur made her look like a battered, abused toy.

At that point she remembered who owned her. She remembered who was licking her.

With uneven hesitation, she turned against the tongue that brushed along her muzzle and saw none other than Kensin Thorpe, still asleep, sloppily lapping at his pet coyote's muzzle, like he were some cub drooling over his favorite blanket.

It would have been lovable had he not remained so intimidating.

Out of curiosity, Aurore took hold of the hand about her breast and tried to pull it free. Not only did it not yield, the lion reacted adversely, pushing against her efforts in order to keep her in check.

It was then that she realized that she couldn't break away as her master slept, not out of fear that he would wake up, but because he could still overpower her in his sleep.

With her mind nowhere but the gutter, Aurore looked back over her shoulder, opened her muzzle, and took the lion's tongue into her mouth. Thorpe's head still followed the same lapping motion, and Aurore's own snout rose and fell to match.

Aurore submissive desires took control. His slobber filled her mouth and she swallowed eagerly, repeatedly. It drove her mad, the offhand domination. She could feel herself starting to get wet all over again.

"Ahem..."

Just then, Aurore noticed her eyes were closed. They flew open, the sparse shafts of light that poured in from outside inferred that it was late in the afternoon.

She saw Rikk, naked, as was common for beasts on the road.

With a twinge of embarrassment, Aurore broke off the obscene kiss, a string of saliva connecting her nose to her master's bottom lip. It barely registered to her, but she could feel Thorpe's grip tighten around her.

Her tail tucked as Rikk approached. The idea of another knowing that she craved the flavor of a male's tongue... it made her wince. She loved how mortified it made her.

The rat moved cautiously, stepping lightly over the sullied, intertwined forms beneath him. "Think I tossed my canteen over here while I was packing," he muttered, halfheartedly explaining himself to Aurore. He quickly found what he sought after, took a swig of water, and stepped back over Thorpe's torso. As he did so, the lion quickly took control, yet again.

Thorpe grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her lips back against his. Heavily, lazily, he forced his tongue back into her mouth, which she had no choice but to accept. A line of the lion's drool ran down the side of her cheek. Aurore had already started sucking and swallowing by the time Rikk took notice.

"Yeah, you might wanna give him what he wants; he gets, uh, ornery in his sleep." The rat coughed awkwardly, then returned to the reins, instinctively scratching at his own rump in a way which implied that he spoke from experience.

Aurore was unable to give the subject any more thought. She was far too busy taking lion tongue. Stuck in a lazy rut, the coyote merely closed her eyes, took a breath, and let the feline impose upon her.

She was fine with the arrangement until she felt a hand slide up her thigh.

A finger butted against Aurore's folds, making her gasp. It slid with its edge, plying along the length of her vulva. As his fingertip came to bear, his claw extended. It prodded at the hood of her clitoris.

Out of reflex, she started to resist, then halted. In the end, she merely held onto his wrist to support herself.

She knew not to object; she had made that mistake before.

She barely managed to remain silent as the digit slid into her. There was no catharsis. With his tongue in her mouth, she couldn't bite down. She could only lie silent and take it.

It was undeniable. Aurore had handled cocks smaller than this lion's middle finger.

As Thorpe's palm came to rest at her groin, Aurore swallowed all the harder just to stifle a moan. Even in his sleep, he forced her to climax.

Over the course of a scant few lingering moments, she drifted off again, allowing Thorpe to toy with her body as she joined him in the Dreamer's domain. She would sleep deeply, but she would not dream.

Her sleep too deep for her to notice Thorpe as he awoke, then left.

Five hours after the sun fell, the convoy halted and made camp, far enough off the road so that a handful of fires could not be seen. They had crossed into Sulan in the late afternoon without incident. As soon as all horses were hitched and roll call was complete, Thorpe retired to his command tent, rarely used, but now perfect for a distinct purpose. An activity which usually happened in Thorpe's wagon.

Only Rikk was permitted to join him.

"You do realize why I only allow you to do this?"

Rikk sat astride his commander's back, combing his fingers through a soaked mane and making sure that cleanser was applied between every hair. He took the opportunity to work deep into the feline's shoulders as well, massaging them. They were bunched up. Tense.

The lion lay on his front, resting on his elbows in a square bathing dish one arms' span wide and one hand length deep, half-filled with charmed water. In truth, it was merely a large blanket, temporarily petrified into shape via runepower, yet it served as an excellent bathtub in the field.

Thorpe awaited his answer, though he didn't turn to face Rikk. He merely looked straight ahead, his pose both vulnerable, yet regal, like a king of the savanna, even with a rodent seated on him like a rider would a steed.

To a casual onlooker, the arrangement would be very suspicious, but considering their history--nearly twelve years of desperation and loyalty--it was but one of many natural outcomes of such a relationship.

Rikk slowed his shoulder rub as he thought of a reply. He had pondered the question for years. Even when asked directly, he didn't wish to fully speak his mind. Instead of his honest opinion, the rat decided for an answer both plausible and palatable. "I suppose it's because you suspect someone else may take this opportunity to stab you in the back."

Thorpe chuckled, drooping his head. His mane dripped and clung around his muzzle, creeping into his mouth and laying over his eyes. It made him look younger, more foolish than what he had become.

"Perhaps," Rikk continued. "It's your way of rubbing it in, that life debt and such."

Thorpe shook his head, groaning through his nostrils. "Everything I've ever done for you has been out of my own gratitude. If anything, I am the debtor. The reason I have you maintain my mane is because you'll do so for free."

"I'm sure you wouldn't have to pay Salibon. He'd consider this process its own reward."

"Doubtful. He'd probably hold it over my head, accumulate favors, the lewd kind."

"Fair enough." Rikk stood, stooped, and then patted his boss on the shoulder. "Roll over." The lion grunted as he complied, careful not to splash the water over the edge. Once Thorpe was on his back, Rikk reseated himself, just over the tip of the feline's sternum. "Y'know, at times I used to wish I was tall and brawny like you, but whenever I saw this."

The rat ploughed his fingers through the mane on Thorpe's chest. He managed to bury his arms up to his elbows without seeing a hint of his own beige fur.

"I figured I didn't have it so bad. I... I'd just look like a walking bird's nest."

"Maybe more like a tumbleweed."

They shared a light, breathy laugh, and then silence as Rikk continued to work. For the first time in days, the boss could relax, and it was a calming sight. No one else could see the commander like this, not because Thorpe would put on a mask of stern leadership in the face of his underlings.

It was because Rikk was the only beast in the world about whom the lion need not worry.

Thorpe then curled his upper body, drawing on the strength of a powerful abdomen that Rikk had grown to envy, and licked the rat across the throat.

Lions were a strange folk, warrior nomads from the northern plains. Even though Rikk had known one personally for eleven years--since the age of fifteen--Thorpe remained the only one of whom he knew by name, let alone had seen in person. Leonid languages were strange, their legends were strange, and their customs were strange. Their gestures were no less strange.

It was this foreign gesture that Rikk found the most off-putting. Where he was from, licking would widely be considered completely silly, but he allowed his friend to persist, though it became increasingly difficult for the rodent to keep his breathing steady.

From Thorpe's viewpoint, this interaction wasn't inherently sexual. After all, they were beasts, former creatures. Rikk's great-great-great-great-grandfather was likely the size of Rikk's foot, squeaked instead of spoke, and never wore clothes. Nakedness and close contact were neither profane nor promiscuous, but it was the will behind such behavior that determined its intent.

And right now, Rikk needed to keep his thoughts in check, or something would pop up which would make the situation very awkward for the both of them.

The lion sat up, and the rat began to slide down his front. Rikk tried to steady himself, wrapping his legs around Thorpe's waist, but it wasn't enough. He immediately found himself seated atop Thorpe's groin. Rikk's tail shivered.

The rat cleared his throat, then proceeded to stand. He needed to. With Thorpe seated and Rikk standing, Rikk barely stood a head taller.

In this new position, Thorpe lowered his attention, beginning to groom the fur overtop Rikk's abdomen.

The rat bit the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood. He tried to focus on working through the last bit of mane that remained, the top of Thorpe's head.

Thorpe started nuzzling. It didn't help. Rikk had to calm himself with one cynical thought.

Lions lick each other's balls without getting aroused. Why should I?

A hand clasping onto the rat's rump countered his dismissal. Rikk nearly gasped.

"Move."

Rikk nodded, stepping off to Thorpe's side as the lion began to bathe himself. The lion took a handful of water and poured it over his lap, then began to run his fingers around his member.

Although he was merely cleaning it, the act still looked alarmingly like masturbation. Rikk disguised his gutter-bound mind with the strongest taunt he could think of.

"Gettin' aroused at the sight of me now?"

"Just preparing it for later. Going to see if she can swallow it." That was all it took. At the mere mention of Aurore, Thorpe's length started to harden in his grasp.

Rikk grumbled audibly.

"What's wrong?"

"One second," Rikk patted his boss on the head. "You're done. Stand up." Once Thorpe had gained his footing, Rikk placed a hand on the lion's chest. "Paramm." [Cleanse.] In a split-second, Thorpe's pelt filled with a fine, light foam. Then, the suds began to overflow, spilling over the lion's robust musculature and into the petrified pan. "Segrad." [Separate.] The aerated cleanser immediately fell away, like Thorpe wasn't even there, taking all dirt and dried sweat with it and leaving the lion soaked, but virtually sterilized.

"Step out."

Thorpe stepped onto the grassy earth, visibly restraining the urge to shake himself dry.

"Olbvian'e Anko."

The bathwater burst free from Thorpe's fur, encapsulating him in a cloud of mist. Each particle briefly froze in midair, then flew back into the basin, falling into place like an explosion in reverse. What resulted was something only a decade of exposure could render not hilarious.

Thorpe stood with his pelt and mane ruffled at maximum capacity. He stood like a giant, burly dandelion.

With a slight grin of amusement, Rikk summoned the bathwater back into the jug from which it had poured, then undid the petrifying charm on the blanked, which he then folded.

"So," the lion spoke calmly, taking his seat on a nearby stool as he smoothed out his fur. "Thoughts on the new recruit?"

Rikk wanted to interrupt, but this subject dovetailed into the matter he wished to address. "The bitch?" he clarified.

"Obviously."

"Hmm...." Rikk wrung his hands, then approached to sort out Thorpe's mane. "She's comely. Seems smarter than she looks. Feisty, but tamable. I think she's perfect for the road...."

"...But?"

"I've seen you take your fair share of females, but we never actually bought any before. You told me yesterday that we couldn't attract attention, but if she attempts to escape, won't she do exactly that?"

"I appreciate your foresight but you needn't worry. I have her under control."

"There is..." Rikk segued. "One more thing. Back in Dena, this girl and I, we had this, uh..." The rat slapped Thorpe's thigh in dismay, now deciding to be frank. "She was the best lay I've ever had. Truly life changing stuff. If I had known about your little change in policy, I would've made Gershawn pay up on that debt he owes me--"

"Understood." Thorpe huffed. He stood, smoothed the fur of his rump. "Sorry for the miscommunication. We were in a rush, and I appreciate how you didn't act rashly. I owe you."

"I'm not angry. We're too close for that," Rikk clarified, slinging the now-normal cloth over his shoulder. He began to make his exit. "But you do owe me. Greatly."

"Before you go," Thorpe inattentively clapped his hands together, like he was about to request something rather strange. "Mind if I bathed you?"

"Oh. No need. Besides, I've already packed it all up."

"No need for water. Come on. It'll be like old times, before all this, before we were leaders."

Rikk shook his head. He knew how felines bathed those in their care. That evening, the rat had kept his body under control, however, if he were to feel a rough, massive tongue work over every nook and crevice of his body, he wouldn't be able to control himself.

"More than anything," Rikk dismissed. "I just need sleep."

"Fair enough." Thorpe approached and placed a hand on Rikk's shoulder. "If you please, fetch the girl. This is what I want you to tell her..."

Aurore's sleep felt like it had passed in an instant, like she had simply blinked, and Thorpe had disappeared. Late afternoon had snapped away, replaced with sparse moonlight. She was alone on Thorpe's bedroll, lying on her back, an arm draped over her abdomen and the sole of her foot planted against the floor. It took a moment for her to notice that she was stepping on her own tail, and she quickly adjusted.

They had stopped moving, likely to rest for the night. With thirty hours in a day, that meant they had spent roughly twenty hours doing nothing but travelling. A day's ride from Dena made for nearly a week of walking.

Must be five horizons away at least.

In a fit of rage, Aurore took the sheets beneath her and balled them up in her hands. She rose, and pitched them against the wall, letting out a shriek of hopeless anger as she did so. She fell on her haunches, forlorn, her dire circumstance only made worse by the fact that she was solely to blame.

The gods may have put her in this cage by way of fate, but she had slammed the door shut and tossed the key into oblivion. That one theft had put her here. This was her penance. Her life was gone, and this lot was all that remained, doomed to be raped and ravaged by a horde of hulking, brutish killers. Her future was forfeit.

She didn't even know if Tieli was alive.

No one would care. No one gave a damn about some squirrel slave. No one had ever known about her past or her family. Not even Tieli knew; she had been property her entire life. She had been nothing. She couldn't die as nothing. The veil of existence itself couldn't withstand such injustice.

Aurore had to know. At her first opportunity, she would escape.

She could never overpower Thorpe. Whenever they were alone together, she found herself surrendering to his will all too easily. Were she to escape, she needed to be alone.

Like she was right now.

Before she could plan further, someone entered the coach and called to her. It was Rikk, still naked, but now very much erect, although it appeared to be unwilling, as he was in a similarly bad mood.

As he spoke, Aurore sat herself up on a crate.

"I bring orders from the commander--um, Thorpe." Rikk wrung his hands as he elaborated. "You are to report to his tent, on the other side of camp, as soon as you are able, which would be right now. You are not to wear clothes until further notice, meaning you will walk across camp naked, allowing his men a good look at you. They are permitted to do with you as they wish, short of actually--well--using you."

"So," Aurore seethed. "As of right now, I'm Thorpe's and only Thorpe's?"

Rikk lightly nodded, then continued. "Should one of the men decide to mount you, you are not to resist. You will submit to them. After they have had their way with you, you may report the incident to Thorpe at your discretion, and he will handle discipline as he sees fit."

"Sounds wonderful," Aurore hissed. "Where do I sign?"

Rikk sighed, then rose to his feet. He bent over and straightened the fur on the back of his legs as he replied. "To be fair, it appears we have something in common." He extended to the coyote and helped her to stand. "Carmen's absence aside, I have no objection to this whole arrangement."

Aurore's tail tucked, barely managing around the curve of her rump.

Rikk walked past her, toward his own sleeping mat, then stopped. "I was also ordered to to do this."

With no other warning, he struck the coyote on the buttock, hard enough to stagger her, though she remained silent.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting some sleep." Rikk then fell onto his sleeping pad, straight onto his back, arms behind his head. Aurore didn't turn to face him, instead, she made her exit, resisting the urge to rub her sore cheek.

They were on the open plain. The border must have been leagues behind them. Trees checkered the horizon, but none were within an arrow's flight. Camp had been made in a quick, rudimentary manner. Only one tent had been pitched. Perhaps Thorpe's men had agreed to sleep in their coaches to help Aurore avoid confusion.

As the coyote lowered herself from the wagon, she noticed that she had been placed on the very edge of camp. The site was tightly packed and orderly, filled with rampant, disorderly conduct, with four campfires, two on the right, and two on the left.

One camp full of thirty-nine angry, dissatisfied mercenaries lay ahead. Thirty-nine strong possibilities of defilement stood between her and certain defilement.

It was immediately apparent that Thorpe had taken great lengths to ensure that this gauntlet would be as dangerous as physically possible. She honestly anticipated someone to take advantage of her.

Aurore realized that her thoughts were stalling her, so she closed her eyes, shook her head, and stepped forward.

As she walked, Aurore grew increasingly conscious of her own body, how her tits bounced with each step, how her arse swayed from side to side. She had been taught to entice males with every movement, and now she acted out of habit. At first, she thought to change her gait, as to not provoke a response. Instead, she merely folded her arms under her breasts, pushing them outward.

This is part of his test. I know it.

Within a half-dozen steps, she opened her eyes, and found every set of eyes locked on her. They were all being tested just as much as she.

Hurried, frightened thoughts filled her. At least one of them would certainly disregard his orders and fuck her. Aurore hadn't seen all of them; perhaps a few of them were canine. Perhaps some wolf or dog would breed her, filling her with bastard pups. The thought of little coywolves and coydogs, fighting over her tits for a drink, affected her, causing her nipples to harden. Someday, that would inevitably happen, regardless. Aurore was afraid.

All the while, her new masters whistled, laughed, beckoned her to sit on their laps. A few whispered and gossiped. One such whisper Aurore managed to extricate.

"Did you know she asked the boss to rape her? She literally asked!"

Aurore flinched. That one motion had become the biggest nail in her coffin.

When she reached the halfway point on her walk, her fear was realized.

Her vision went dark as a bag slipped over her head. An assailant grabbed her by the hips and took her closer to one of the campfires. He bent her over a log and whispered in her ear.

"Don't worry, angel." He squeezed her breast. His cock probed unguided at her helpless rump. He knew he'd be punished for this. "You're more than worth it."

Her attacker reached down, pulled her legs apart, and struck closer to his target, now jabbing within inches of her labia.

A newcomer barged in and shoved the would-be rapist to the ground.

"Don't be a fool," he said.

"Are you blind?" the assailant replied, slapping Aurore on the rump in a frustrated gesture. "See that bag on her head? If she can't see my face, I won't be punished!"

"If Thorpe doesn't have a single culprit to punish, he'll punish us all," the rescuer countered. He took Aurore into his arms, leaving the bag on her head. "Wait your turn like the rest of us."

As he left, the rescuer slung Aurore over his shoulder, a position which forced a grunt from her with every step.

On impulse, he turned his muzzle against her side and bit down, hard enough to bruise, but not enough to break the skin. Aurore curled up as he gnawed on her flank, almost ignoring the hand which slid up her thigh.

"By the way," the mysterious stranger added before licking the area he had just chewed. "This is allowed."

He slid a finger into her. She shuddered at his touch, but did not retaliate.

With his dominance asserted, he bent his finger, prodded at her from the inside, then gently took a knee. He placed her on the ground and took the bag off her head.

It was the massive canine-looking creature she had seen earlier. He seemed to surpass even Thorpe in height and weight, perhaps also in strength. Aurore truly couldn't identify his species.

"Now," the rescuer spoke, holding her out at arm's length. "Let's get a good look at you."

Aurore grit her teeth as the male inspected her body. Sardonically, she grabbed at her own breasts and pressed them together. The beast chuckled.

"That won't be necessary." He then took Aurore into a one-handed embrace, pinning her wrists between her chest and his. His loose, heavy fur clung to her, his muscles firm and inviting. She knew what was coming.

Like countless others before, he slapped her on the arse. She remained silent, allowing him to grope and caress her to his heart's content. He let out a low growl of satisfaction.

"Mmm, good." He gave her a tight squeeze, then released her. "You'd better hope the boss does a good job training you." Then, he parted, leaving her with a single warning. "If he doesn't, one of us just might fuck you in half."

Aurore paused to watch the massive beast's exit. A quick glance about verified that he had carried her all the way to Thorpe's tent, and she had a feeling that she hadn't been aided out of benevolence, but somehow out self-interest.

The coyote calmed herself, took in a massive breath, then entered Thorpe's tent.

It was a simple layout, and poorly lit, four walls and a ceiling, not even a floor. A lantern hung from the ceiling, and only two things existed below it: Thorpe, and the stool on which he sat naked, as was expected. His cock held half-erect; he expected to be satiated soon.

The lion leaned on his fist, scrutinizing her. Tied to that fist, was his rune, which glowed nearly as bright as the lantern. He raised his brow and spoke.

"Evening."

Aurore nearly fidgeted. Instead, she slowly approached, hands behind her back. She bowed lightly. "Good evening... master."

Thorpe's muzzle twitched in mild dislike.

"For as long as you are in my charge," he said. "You are not to call me 'master'. Instead, you will refer to me as 'Thorpe' or 'sir', understood?"

Aurore glared at the empty space directly next to Thorpe. She had trouble meeting his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Also, as our little... arrangement was brought about by my catching you in the act of thieving, it appears to be my duty to improve your morals through any punishments I deem fitting."

He watched for her reaction. The coyote's ears wavered at his words. Her tail drooped slightly. She had come down from her lust-driven state.

The urge had gone. The drive to be brutally used, raped by a hulking brute, had been forced out of her system. The lion had sated her twisted desires long enough for her to truly think clearly.

She hated him. She hated how he used his perfect body to subjugate her, to force her to the ground and make her love it. She hated how he forced her into place and made her lesser.

She hated in the most pure of ways... how he adored her in the most putrid of ways.

"From this point forward," Thorpe said. "You are to only speak the truth. Whenever you have a thought to share, you are to share it. No one you encounter will have any right to silence you. Even you have no right to silence yourself."

"So," Aurore clarified. "I may speak freely?"

"More precisely, you must," Thorpe confirmed. "You may even insult and argue, so long as you mean every word."

Aurore locked eyes with the lion, wrung her hands, then exercised her new freedom. "You're a cold, childish bastard."

Thorpe shrugged. "Fair."

"You treat yourself as a god would amongst men. You've likely never been in a position _other_than dominant in your life, and I _know_you take sick pleasure in victimizing females--"

"Which you enjoyed."

Aurore now froze. One thought now occupied her mind, and she truly didn't wish to reveal it. She steeled herself, and continued to speak truthfully.

"Yes," she shuddered. "I enjoyed it."

"Tell me. Do you regret trying to steal from me? Any remorse whatsoever?"

Now, Aurore glared. For once, she might be able to gouge as deeply as he gouged her.

"I regret nothing," she said.

The lion's entire expression lightened. He seemed visibly impressed. "Fair enough." Thorpe then motioned her forward, gesturing toward his twitching cock. "That doesn't change the reason why I called you here."

Aurore quietly sighed, then approached, slowly lowering into a crawl as she did so.

"You will use your mouth." He drew his finger along the underside of his length, goading it to full strength. "Take your time. We have all night."

It was within arm's reach. Thorpe's rune. If she could only grab it, then her master would die soon after. The very notion itself died before Aurore could seriously consider it.

The lion preempted her, leaning forward and dangling the rune in front of her nose, close enough for the light to bring discomfort to her eyes, which she quickly shut.

Aurore remained still. She knew that he was too quick. She would never lay hands on it under any circumstance.

The coyote swallowed, placed a hand on each of the lion's knees to brace herself, and ducked under her captor's bait, and directly under his cock.

Thorpe was surprised, but he hid all sign of it. It seemed his pet had found something to play with. With his shaft balanced perilously on his pet's cheekbone, her muzzle met his sac with resentful fervor.

The coyote lashed weakly with her tongue. As she lapped at him, her wide tongue tugged on the fur of his scrotum, pulling it slightly behind her lips. It led to her unintentionally nipping at the loose, delicate skin. She didn't waver, even as she nibbled on the most demeaning of all places. The diligent, loath ministrations revealed all too much.

If she was going to please her owner orally, she would do so gradually. She would lick anywhere and everywhere she wasn't ordered to, just so she could delay the inevitable. Apparently, only the vilest of harlots would immediately make use of her throat.

Truly, this was a female with class.

He didn't stop her, not at first. Instead, he let her work. She may have considered the delay less demeaning, but Thorpe found it even more satisfying.

The coyote shifted to the side, working into the crevice where Thorpe's groin met his inner thigh. From there, she trudged upward. It seemed she lost track of what she had been told to do, as she now edged closer to him, lapping heavily over the lion's abdomen.

Thorpe had to suppress a chuckle. He appreciated the enthusiasm; a bead of precum had just started to slide down over his glans. However, she had to learn to obey.

"That's enough." Thorpe clapped a fist around Aurore's muzzle, trapping her tongue mid-stroke. With the coyote's breath stifled, he forced her snout downward and wedged it between his sac and the base of his cock. With her tongue fixed in place, halfway out, he dragged her nose along the underside of his twitching length. Her tongue collided with the small trail of pre head-on. The taste soaked in quickly, biting, like vinegar, and lightly so.

Before Aurore had time to fully appreciate the flavor of her new master's cum, he positioned her muzzle right where he wanted it to be, hovering over the end of his member.

"Get to work."

Aurore blinked, then swallowed hesitantly. Then she licked at the lion's cockhead before taking it into her mouth.

The lion was too clean. It dominated Aurore's mind as she serviced him. Every strand of fur had been cleansed and sterilized. The bare skin of his member clung to her lips as she first passed over it; he had bathed recently, likely in tandem with some runework. He was in pristine condition.

Her saliva instantly lubricated him. There had been no trouble making her mouth water. The lion may have possessed a despicable soul, but his body was still delectable.

As she worked down the length, it soon prodded at the back of Aurore's mouth. With a shiver and a tilt of her head, the coyote backed then brought herself down until she met the same limit.

Her canine muzzle may have given her more room than most other species, but even she couldn't handle the sheer length.

"Hold," he ordered.

Aurore halted, then slowly pulled off. A loose string of fluid linked her lip to Thorpe's cock. His expression was nuanced, annoyed but relieved that he had found something to criticize.

"What was that?" he asked, unimpressed.

"Well," Aurore fumed. "When a male fancies a female very much..."

"Stow it." For the first time, the lion seemed irritated. "You have no idea what you're doing."

The coyote froze. She wasn't expecting that. "Pardon?"

Thorpe pinched his stop, eyes clenched. "Let me guess. You were never trained as a whore. Instead, you would just slaver over your clients to lube them up, then they would hold you down and fuck you like some farm animal."

Aurore shivered, indignant. Derogatory tone aside, he was alarmingly accurate. For her entire experience in whoring, she had gotten by almost entirely on her body and her looks.

The lion sighed deeply, then caressed his forehead. With his voice irritable, he spoke. "There's more to it than just fucking with your mouth. You work the tongue, swallow. Alternate constantly." He raised his head and met eyes with her. "No one ever taught you that?"

Aurore's brow raised. He was giving her advice.

"It...it was never exactly my specialty."

Thorpe audibly grumbled. His head rolled along with his eyes. He had something else to say, but he refrained, instead gesturing to his neglected member. "Get back to work. I'll guide you through it."

Aurore did nothing. The situation was too odd. "Well, it's good to know that you're an expert on cocksucking."

Had she spoken in such a way to any other master, she would have been struck, no question. Instead, the lion glowered at her, unfazed. "Do it." Orders had been given. Aurore steeled herself, and submitted.

She set her lips around the glans, then slid forward, taking extra care to press firmly against the shaft's underside with her tongue. Before it reached her molars, it began to throb, harder than before. She was making progress.

"Now..." Thorpe grabbed Aurore by the ears and gently towed her along his length, nearly hilting in her muzzle. He filled her mouth again. He kept pulling. Briefly, she lost her calm, planting a palm against the lion's hip and trying to push away. Of course, she couldn't. "You will swallow and take the last few inches into your throat. Be careful not to choke."

Aurore struggled. She forced her maw open slightly more, hoping to breathe. Instead, she had to try a few breaths through her nostrils, only managing the faintest shreds of air. With no other option, she swallowed and shoved forward.

There was some resistance. On the first try, it didn't enter her esophagus, and not on the second. She nearly gagged at the sensation. At this point, Aurore gave up all feigned indifference. She wanted to breathe, therefore, she wanted to swallow Thorpe's cock.

The coyote gulped down, repeatedly, hectically. Now, she was starting to slobber. It battered against her epiglottis, occasionally poking through like a raiding horde trying its strength against a barricade.

With one last steady push, she succeeded, lodging the lion's engorged flesh in her jerking gullet. Her nose bumped into that prickly fur at Thorpe's groin, her chin against his testicles. She still couldn't breathe.

They held still, both of them. Aurore's throat continued to spasm, but everything else froze. Her eyes locked on his. Her lungs began to shudder.

"Very good." His voice wasn't condescending. He didn't even seem to be punishing her.

Honestly, he was training her. Enjoying her.

Immediately following his praise, he shoved her free, cock sliding from her jaws with a grotesque slurp.

Aurore fell back, onto her rump, gasping and spluttering. She had inhaled her own saliva, which prickled and burned her from within. She felt particularly violated, like this lion had somehow taken from her some secret, perverse second virginity.

"You'll do nicely."

Thorpe watched her with a prurient adoration. The bitch's eyes were wide in a subtle panic, like she felt something in her consciousness start to shift. She pressed the back of her hand to her muzzle, likely to conceal a quivering lower lip.

The lion relented for a short while, giving her a moment to settle herself. He sat in place, watching over her as she transitioned from nearly broken, to fully inimical. She glared into him from below, half sitting and half kneeling by his feet. Her eyes flashed with impotent fury. Thorpe knew that look.

Her mind must have been livid, pulsing with endless ideas and manic nigh-daydreams, imaginary scenarios where she would gain the advantage and grind him into nothingness beneath her heel. Thorpe knew that all those fantasies ended with him dodging every vicious attempt, bearing her down, and fucking her back into place.

Even in her imagination, Thorpe knew, this coyote was his.

Aurore was still recuperating emotionally; he wished not to make her slip further, so in hopes of allowing her more time, Thorpe spoke.

"Before you continue, a quick warning." The lion bowed forward, elbows on knees, and elaborated. Aurore listened coldly, but intently. She bit her lower lip and sucked a bead of fluid from it. "Lions are indeed unique in how they mate, and with our interactions so far, I've been holding back."

"Oh! Truly?!"

"I wish not to bore you with a lesson in anatomy, so I'll summarize. Lions are different from what you've heard. In the past, they would indeed mate dozens of times a day, but that was because male feral lions would orgasm in less than half a minute. Short stamina, almost nonexistent refractory period, that's how it worked.

"As species evolved in subsequent generations, many functions changed. Nerves rearranged, organs developed new functions, and so, felines began to orgasm differently. Some say it's due to that Evolutionary Nexus--I'm sure you're heard the theory..."

"In short," Thorpe concluded, sitting up and flexing his abdominals as a form of stretching. "When a modern-born, bipedal lion... cums, all those orgasms are packed onto the end and the intermittent refractory periods disappear. Once a male reaches that tipping point, the first wave hits, the sensations trigger another reaction--"

"Oh, like vomiting?" Aurore jabbed.

Thorpe scowled at her interruption, then countered.

"I'm telling you this because you are going to swallow it. All of it."

Aurore shivered. Her breathing started to build. She didn't break eye contact. Thorpe closed the distance, reaching out to touch her. She batted his hand away. He grabbed her by the wrist, then caressed her cheek, like he had intended.

Even his efforts to comfort were transformed into acts of dominance.

He revealed his claws and gently scratched the coyote on the underside of her jaw. That old, unwieldy relief returned to her. His claws felt so good, they almost tickled.

Almost overwhelmed, Aurore stiffened under his touch. She couldn't pull away. She couldn't bring herself to service him. Instead, she conceded. Belittled into the demeanor of a whore-pet, she laid her jaw atop the lion's thigh. His attention shifted to her ear, where he soothed her with such deftness, it brought about deep, stressed yawn.

It had been an unprecedented day, and she had even slept through most of it.

"You're rested long enough."

Aurore opened her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them. Her arms had wrapped themselves around his shin, her tail batted against her master's ankle.

She had been lapping at Thorpe's inner thigh. Her tongue felt tired. She had been doing it for quite a while.

She hadn't fallen asleep; it must have been one of her arousal-induced stupors.

Thorpe held Aurore out at arm's length. He looked into her glazed eyes. Her mind was quickly clearing. With remarkable patience, he sat back and gestured toward his member. It was apparent that he was as adept at controlling himself as he was at controlling Aurore.

"Get back on it."

Aurore's heart raced, but this time, it was manageable. This time, with no guidance required, the coyote brought her muzzle to bear. She shied away, then shook herself free of hesitation.

Before she could think of the ramifications. Before she could think of her pride, Thorpe's cock was already back in her mouth. She had given in.

Her lips puckered around it, tight and firm as she eased forward once more. She worked with her movements, sliding over his sensitive flesh as she flicked her tongue to and fro, still within her mouth. She pulled off, and briefly used only her tongue. Occasionally, she broke away long enough to taste and nibble on Thorpe's sac. Her abandon thrilled her. The loss of restraint whipped at her heartbeat like a total freefall. Maybe she was changing.

Maybe she could please him.

Once she swallowed him again, then pulled back to caress his shaft with her tongue, she noticed that all progress had ceased. His pulse wasn't intensifying like before. He wasn't building.

It was then that he said something that shook her resolve.

"Bloody hellfire. You do realize it's called cock_sucking_ for a reason, correct?"

The coyote backed away, took a breath, then dove back in. She locked her lips around the midpoint of its length and sucked. She drew on it, like she would through a reed. It chilled her, made her feel desperate. She_was_ desperate.

There was a vibration. Deep within Thorpe's body, there was a rumble. A low grunt of approval.

Was he purring?

He rose, standing so tall, he had to bend his knee slightly so that her mouth could reach his cock. The lion grabbed her by the ears, guided his hips against her lips. She swallowed him again, and he began to fuck her in the throat, lightly.

She embraced him. Wrapped her arms around his pelvis. She groped him, feeling his rump as he rocked against her, how his heavy, unstoppable muscles contracted and worked for the most subtle, complex of purposes.

Somehow, even the way she fondled him... it made her feel even more helpless.

A droplet of fluid landed on her head. Thorpe was drooling. She could almost see it in her mind's eye, that hulking lion hunched over her, maw agape, tongue drooping. He had gone wild, practically rabid with lust. He must have wanted to take her, rape her in continuum until they both went mad.

Aurore was afraid in the most ecstatic of ways. As of right now, their respective, contrasting wills were all that mattered, all that existed. She was in this moment and no others.

His thrusts grew jagged, pulling out of her throat. He was close.

Aurore tightened her lips around his glans, suckling just a little stronger, then she rushed with her muzzle, back and forth. This would work. She knew it.

Rapidly, Thorpe's voice began to creep into his ragged breathing, now almost groaning. Rutting lust overtook his faculties, and he lost his balance. Clumsily, he toppled back and onto his seat. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. He halted his breath, making sure to utter one word with utmost clarity.

"Swallow."

Climax.

Thorpe's orgasm surged forth with both lion and coyote in orgiastic silence.

The first blast of semen caught Aurore unawares. Thorpe's cock had been at the back of her mouth; his seed edged slightly into her windpipe.

She started coughing, unable to swallow. The second blast squirted out from behind her lips in a slick, profane string, splashing against Thorpe's thigh. Just before the third came about, Aurore backed away, setting her teeth around the tip.

The third shot washed smoothly across her tongue. Now, she had a predicament. Aurore held nearly three spurts of cum within her jaws, and more was on the way. In the heat of the moment, she drank it down. The sticky fluid clung to her teeth, but she no time to worry. The forth was upon her.

Now, she had a rhythm. Every shot, she gulped down, drinking the lion's seed straight from the tap. Without question, it was the vilest thing she had ever been made to do.

After the seventh consecutive spurt, Aurore swallowed, as ordered, then proceeded to pleasure him further, of her own action. She coaxed forward one last sip of cum, which she kept on her tongue.

The coyote backed away, seating herself meekly at the lion's feet. She tilted her head back, and swallowed once more, letting him watch as her throat flexed and clenched.

The lion descended, kneeling over her, inspecting her. He was stoic once more. His eyes almost met hers, but not quite. Suddenly doubtful of her own aptitude, Aurore followed Thorpe's eyes by crossing her own, staring at the bridge of her muzzle.

Somehow, some of his cum and strung across her face, directly between her nose and her eyes. With hasty disdain, Aurore lifted a hand to wipe it away. Thorpe grabbed her wrist.

"All of it."

Aurore lent him a glare of contempt. She opened her maw, and flicked her tongue over her muzzle. For her final swallow, she opened her mouth, allowing Thorpe to directly observe as his sperm disappeared down her gullet.

"Exquisite."

For the last time, Thorpe brought himself to rest on his stool, watching her with demanding eyes. His chest rose and fell with rapid breathing, but his breath was silent. "In fact, nearly perfect."

He brought her attention to her one error: a sizeable portion of cum that stained his thigh. A few droplets even lay upon his abdomen.

"And what shall I do," Aurore sneered. "Lick it up?"

"Exactly."

Her jaw slightly trembled, but Aurore instantly obeyed. The coyote closed in and nuzzled up close to the very shaft that she had serviced so thoroughly. Then, she brought her lips to the tightest, warmest crevice of Thorpe's groin, and applied her tongue.

Semen was such a strange substance, insistently sticky, but also an effective lubricant. Her tongue glided rapidly over the lion's fur in a way that wasn't possible before, but the substance quickly clung to her bare flesh.

As she tended to a length of particularly impressive definition along Thorpe's quadriceps, she realized why the lion's semen revolted her so greatly.

It was incompatible. It served no purpose to her, save to bring her shame.

No matter how many times they would mate, this wasn't copulation. He would never sire her young; she was no lioness. She wasn't his mate. She wasn't even his whore. Whores were paid. She was his toy. A container. A place for him to release his stress. It was in this moment, where that perspective finally sank in.

Now I'm less than a broodbitch.

Her harrowing self-discovery hadn't changed her outward expression or bearing, so she continued to play along, dutifully, thoroughly cleaning her owner's loins of his own runoff. She progressed from his thigh, back to his abdomen, where she felt every curve of his muscular front in the most submissive way.

It was her attitude as she licked him, her demeanor that pleased him. She knew that. Eyes locked on nothing in particular. The way that every stroke of her tongue was pulled only by the motion of her head. It made it appear as she was putting her whole body into this one, minute gesture.

"That's enough," Thorpe said, hooking a forefinger under her chin and lifting her to eyelevel. He tried to retain his neutral disposition, but he was too greatly pleased to fully conceal.

He kissed her, pulled her into his lap and held her. He cared not that he tasted himself on her tongue. This was her reward, for obedience, for adaptation, for being.

He broke the kiss, sat up straight with Aurore on his lap, and commented with tempered glee, "You missed a spot." The lion gently dabbed with his forefinger at the center of her forehead. Right between the eyes, the last remnant of cum lingered. "Leave it."

Thorpe stood, carrying Aurore in his arms. He turned her about, placed her back against his front, like Rindel had done the night before. A hand supported her from the groin, the other at her breast. They made their way to the tent's exit.

"Some advice for dealing with my men," Thorpe said.

Aurore's ears flattened. Her tail tucked. His men_?!_

"When in doubt, cower." he stopped just short of the tent flap, then growled warmly, muzzle next to hers. "They love it when a girl is flustered by their advances, but can't bring herself to refuse." The lion licked her. Her heart raced. Then, he added, "Sorry for the rough landing. It's all for show."

"Rough landing? Wha--Woah!"

Before she could fully understand, Thorpe tore the flap open and tossed her out into the night.

She landed on her feet, but not squarely. In the momentum of her fall, Aurore tumbled to her knees, catching herself by digging an elbow into the grassy earth.

Aurore didn't have time to steel herself. The moment she looked up, a ten-point silhouette was upon her, backlit by the nearest fire. Obviously a stag, he took the coyote by the scruff of the neck, forced her to her feet, and swept her off to that very fire.

"Nooo! B.H., how dare you! You're evil! What about that character I really liked! Who do you think you are, GRRM?"

Don't worry. It's part of the plan. If there's something here that pisses you off, I only request that you stick around until the next episode and see if I'm being a cruel writer.

Comment on the story, characters, worldbuilding, etc., below! If you have any burning questions, message me, and I'll almost definitely reply!

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