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“Civilisation at last!"

It was a simple room, though quite large, the walls and floor protected by a veneer of wooden planks, the ceiling a pattern of brickwork. In one corner lay a single large mattress, upon which a bark-brown furred Wolfman reclined, and in the centre of the space was a broad table with two chairs, one occupied by Raphael, and the other his guest. His story continued, “We were captives of the Skaven for three months, and honestly towards the end it had become almost comfortable enough for me to be having second thoughts about leaving. Curiosity eventually got the better of the ratfolk about the noises coming from my tent, the howling of my Bitch, the bellowing of my Mate, and the squeaking of my Wife. A group of young males invited me to their table one evening when I returned from a hunt and covertly questioned me about it (but not quite as subtly as Khut would). Questions turned to a game as they produced a chess board lifted from the same raid which had supplied my canvas shelter, but with no instructions they had invented their own version played by four people and thoroughly confusing."

The midday light streamed in through the shutters, a large lantern with plenty of oil providing further illumination, and the man cast a great shadow as he told his tale, “It is said that Skaven believe themselves superior to the civilised races and look down on them. I suppose I would redefine it as sublime pragmatism. Everyone and everything is to be used, a tool to be manipulated, be they man, elf, dwarf, or their own siblings. They manage to be highly individualistic, yet at the same time practice collectivism - within their own tribe, at least. Slowly, I was becoming a part of that Rot-Tail tribe, and I started to feel some measure of guilt for my traitorous act to come."

“False flattery and whispered insult was becoming begrudging kinship. I'd play Skaven Chess, share information on nearby hunting grounds, and tried their liquor also. Once. Never again. I've always considered myself rather resilient to drink, but that is an alcohol which will cut you to the quick in far less than you would expect; sweet as nectar, hot as fire. I might have ended up in trouble if Khut hadn't rescued me. I was dragged back to the tent by my rat-wife to the cheers and jeers of my new friends and treated to quite the lecture." He chuckled, but his expression was a little nervous. That lecture really had been rather extreme.

“The mountain was abundant, extremely so. Within a single day of travel there was much to forage and hunt. Winter would soon come, and migration routes led through the pass over which the Rot-Tail tribe had dominion, offering up whole herds of creatures. Predators and dangers, too. Khut had reassessed her plan after learning that I had not tamed Kara from the egg and Alp from a cub and instead had an unreasonably broken Apex Skill. My job was simple; when I went out hunting each day with my Wolfman, I would [Tame] as many creatures as possible and embed into each of them the same order."

He spread his hands impressively, “'On the day that the first snow falls, climb the mountain'. It wasn't easy to communicate, but I think I got it. Mostly. An indication of coldness from the sky and a directive towards the peak. Very vague. I could only hope that it took. I do wish that [Tame] was precise enough for the target not to have to explicitly understand what I was instructing them to do. But that might be a little too convenient. The ironclad power of the orders is already broken enough."

“Khut knew a rarely used path down the side of the mountains and into the plains South of us, a journey which would take a few days and require a good lead to prevent us from getting caught. It was very narrow in places, and there was no chance of my Wolfman or Deathclaw taking that route. Near impervious to harm from Skaven weaponry, the two of them would instead take the pass itself and meet us on the other side, serving as a diversion."

Raphael took his cup, long pale fingers gripping the warm ceramic vessel, two rings tapping it. While a little simple and in desperate need of some sugar, the tea here was rather nice. He sipped at it while thinking of how best to orate what was to come, dislodging his mess of dark hair from his eyes with a sweep of his hand, “The day finally came. A brief snowfall in the morning, a reprieve, then it came down heavily from midday onwards. And through that veil of white came a whole menagerie of creatures. An entire pride of Displacer Beasts emerged from the dusk. Elk, Boar, a pack of wolves, a flight of pigeons. I'd used [Tame] on everything I could find, and even with my vague order having a low success rate for communication, I'd spread it enough to assemble quite the army."

“The Skaven raised the alarm and took defensive positions. I had Alp and Kara join the line as well. Their presence here would have the ratfolk assume that their Master remained with them, buying me more time. I was worried for them, but also worried for the Skaven. They'd not treated me poorly, and I didn't want any lives to be lost for the sake of my escape. There were ratfolk there that I could probably say had become my friends, after all. Despite everything."

His fingers tapped again at the side of his cup, and he recalled the anxiety of that time, “It was three days before I'd see my two large Pets again. Three days of ledges over sheer cliffs, cold nights huddled with Khut shivering for we could not risk a fire, the constant fear of pursuers driving us to the utmost speed we could manage. The relief when we emerged onto the plains to find Alp and Kara waiting for us drove me to my knees. Alp told me of the battle, a constant stream of creatures passing through the Skaven camp over the course of the night. No match for the bulwark of a Wolfman and Deathclaw backed up by volleys of arrows. Most of the tribe simply took cover and waited for them all to pass through. Not a single life lost, simply a great deal of damage to the camp. I suppose it served them right for burning mine all those months ago."

Energy returned to his voice, “I still had my coin, for the Skaven had no use for it, purchasing the equipment we'd need for our continued journey to the Holy City from a trading post not far from the entrance to the pass. Geared up, we rejoined the Highroad, hoping to outpace the snow, but it would be a further fortnight and a miserable trudge through the cold before we would find civilisation."

Raphael wore an expression of wonderment, his mind cast to the moment he first beheld such a large settlement in this new world, “The Holy City is a marvel of Dwarf architecture. That is to say that every building is perfectly straight, every corner a precise ninety degrees, and the entire place looking like it had been built out of Lego. It was uniform white stone as far as the eye could see, with tar-black roads projected from a central cathedral like the spokes of a wheel, dividing the city into eight districts. That the outer defensive wall was also a perfect square rather than the circle that you would expect baffled me."

“Humans, Elves, and Dwarves may pass into the city freely, but all other races are considered to be Monsters and subject to strict controls regardless of how civilised they may be. I was held at the North Gatehouse for some time, forced to demonstrate my proficiency of control over my Pets. Within the confines of the Holy City they would be considered to be my Slaves, and I was forced to undertake endless documentation registering my ownership, the process ended with the presentation of collars."

He grinned, clearly rather amused, “The Wolfman, Alp, was overjoyed and asked for a leash to go with it after observing someone walking a dog beyond the gate. My Deathclaw, Kara, didn't seem to care at all. And as for the Skaven Khut, her withering look of pure contempt was potent enough to induce a slight cringe in the young guardsman presenting them to me, despite the regal looking Gryphon flanking him. But he would only have to endure that countenance for a moment. I'm sure I'll have it for the rest of our stay here. I knew she'd keep the emblem on, though. To be a Monster in the streets of the Holy City without a collar or a pass is to face death at the hands of patrolling Knights and their Gryphon mounts."

His cup was empty, and so too was that of his guest – so Raphael refilled them both, “The guardsman lad directed me to a reasonably priced inn suitable for Monsters. A single gold coin would buy me room and board for a tenday for my Pets and me. With six such coins in my purse accumulated from my numerous adventures in the Lowlands, it was enough to get us started, but insufficient for us to see the winter through here without finding some work."

“The World God may have directed me to the Holy City for some unknown reason, but I knew that travelling here was the right thing to do if I was going to properly establish myself as a Beastmaster. I was thinking how best to do precisely that when Khut brought up something rather tantalising during one of our conversations." His voice firmed as he considered that resolve, “She'd explained to me already that her Enchantment Magic could not only control minds, but buff and debuff them as well. So, I asked, could she elevate Kara to an intelligence level comparable to the rest of the group?"

“Yes. Her Magic would be able to achieve this. But the cost would be so severe that it would likely have her consciousness subsumed by her Sin, turning her into a mindless Fiend. But, Khut had a solution." He rolled his eyes. She always had a solution, and he wagered that the more her knowledge broadened the more insufferable about it she would become, “Dracite. A crystal of condensed magical power. Very valuable, very dangerous, and serviceable as a battery for spellcraft. Though its main use was as part of the process of imbuing magic items with their various powers. Her tribe had acquired one once during a caravan raid, but the Chieftain had ordered it destroyed before she could steal it for herself."

“It was unlikely that we could afford such a treasure, but there was no harm in examining the marketplaces to determine just how far short of buying it we were. I assigned Kara as a bodyguard to Khut - who assured me that she would be quite alright acting independently in the city and was keen to explore with a promise to return just before the dusk curfew for Monsters. And I struck out with Alp in my shadow, leash in hand, with a recommendation from the innkeeper that I check the outer-city auctions."

Raphael gave a slight groan, giving his impressions with no small amount of disdain, “The [Creation] user was not the first person to come to this nonsense world. In ages past, the World God had sent quite a few 'heroes', and I blame them entirely for the naming conventions of the Holy City. In fact, I blame them for most things in general. The main street is called Electric Avenue and features a small plaza with a statue of a Roc as its centrepiece. And that was one of the less egregious examples."

“I found myself eventually at the Wall Street market. This one had a statue of a Wolf which Alp quite approved of. A crowd was assembled before a raised platform, onto which a dwarf in a pinstriped suit would display various goods for those in attendance to bid on. A whole series of esoteric items passed by, and I was unable to resist nabbing a Ring of Warmth at a bargain price of only two silver pieces. Putting it on immediately dispelled the chill of winter and my heavy cloak and mantle of furs was suddenly enough to have me sweat. I acquired a half-dozen Potions of Shrinking also for another silver, thinking it may be interesting to one day cut Kara down to size."

“A Firebrand sword was sold to an Adventurer party for a dozen gold coins, and an Icebrand spear for more than that. Several other weapons went by, all outside of my interest and price range. I've come to accept that I don't really want or need a blade at my side and such a purchase would be pointless vanity. More wonders passed before my eyes, every one of them a new temptation. Boots of Leaping, a Potion of Regeneration, and a Portable Cottage that I really wish I could have afforded. Throw down this little figurine and – poof – an instant building. Speak a passphrase and it becomes a figurine once more. I cursed the Merchant which bought it, knowing that the travel of his company had become much more comfortable. It sold for a lot more than the weapons."

“I'd not seen many magic items in the North, with a lot of superstition and fear of Mages surrounding such tools. Here in the Holy City though, they're much more common, with a famous foundry and workshop in District One processing masterworks and Dracite into these magnificent objects. As a result, the crystal was available here, but in high demand with a few Dwarf craftsmen inciting a bidding war which took the price into three figures of gold coins. With a glum look down into the three I'd set aside for this in my purse, it was clear that I wouldn't be having a two-way conversation with Kara any time soon."

“I was ready to tug at the leash of a thoroughly bored looking Alp to indicate that it was time to leave. Until the next item was placed onto the stage. A Lizardfolk girl, salamander red. She went for eleven gold coins and the joke that it was one for each of her years. I admit to being seized by a sort of morbid curiosity. I had already resolved to cast aside the common sense and morality of my old world, and it would be the height of hypocrisy for me as a Beastmaster to turn my nose up at this practice considering the nature of my Apex Skill, [Tame]. I resolved to watch the auction play out, acclimatising myself to the ways of the Holy City in the hopes I could quell this uneasy feeling."

His face wore a complicated expression, but the man kept talking, “A Minotaur male was next, enormous and muscular. Advertised as a labourer or warrior and with a rather hefty price tag to match. Then after a few more accessories and armour pieces, a small kobold craftsman was bought for an even grander sum. An Owlbear egg larger than Khut was sold to a fancily dressed noble lady at a truly eyewatering price, and then it was you."

Raphael leaned back in his chair, again looking over the one he had purchased. Rather small in the seat opposite him, clutching tightly their cup of tea, “You weren't exactly palatable to the buyers. Minus an ear, an eye, and an arm, with your body all slashed up and scarred. A Felyne from the East, the doing of the [Creation] user, no doubt. The auctioneer said that you picked a fight with one of the famed craftsmen of District One, the mounted guard was called, and you ended up on the business end of an angry Gryphon. Healing Magic was used at the scene to close your wounds, and proceeds from your sale would go to compensating the Dwarf craftsman who suffered a minor injury in the scuffle."

“Bidding started at five gold coins and the silence of disinterest. It was then lowered to four. And then three. My hand went up, and with no competing bids you became mine. Then came a collar, registration, and [Tame]."

“I won't pretend that this was a charitable action or just some whim." His justifications sounded as flimsy as Khut's to a trained ear, “It was an investment. You're a native of the Holy City and I'll be staying here for at least a season. There's a lot that you can tell me, more than I could learn without committing some dreadful faux pas and ended up breaking an unknown taboo or law."

He attempted enthusiasm, clapping his hands once together, but it succeeded only in having the Felyne flinch, “All that is my story so far, unbelievable though all the talk of Apex Skills and World Gods may be. Now that you know it, I shall introduce myself again properly. I am Raphael, but since everyone takes such efforts to conceal their names, I am Master or Beastmaster. What is your name?" The answer was on their documents, but it felt right to be thorough in this meeting.

The cat had listened intently, sipping at their tea while Raphael had dispensed his tale. When he was completely sure that they were done, he placed down his cup and came to stand atop his chair. The Felyne bowed politely, “My name is Bravura, or Ra in compawny, Meowster. Pleased to meet mew."

The speech pattern was adorable, their voice with a slight whine to it. The Beastmaster was quick with his questions, “What's your story? How did you really end up on that platform?"

Bravura remained standing, his remaining hand at his side, his posture one of attention. It looked a little strange, like he should be on four legs, but that wouldn't look quite right either, “The Dwarf cheated meow in a trade. When the guard were called, they weren't going to believe a Meownster. He pushed meow down. I slashed him with my claws. Then the Gryphon had meow." His whiskers drooped, and he looked truly downcast, “I was born in the East, but I've always lived in the Holy City. I'm a Craftsmeown. But now that I've lost my dominant arm, I'm just a source of information for mew, then food for your Wolfmeown."

Raphael looked a little taken back, speaking quickly to clarify things, “Of course not. I'm going to need you for the season, but after that I'm not opposed to freeing you if that's what you wish for."

But the Felyne only shook his head, “Then I'm dead in three months. The Holy City is all I know. Monsters can only exist here as Slaves or with pawpers. And no freed Slave will be issued pawpers. I'd be turned out to pawrish in the wilds."

“Oh…" He folded his arms, “Then, the answer is simple. You're sticking with us indefinitely."

Again, they shook their head, “It's the only reasonable future fur meow. I craft and sell accessories and trinkets. I don't have any other marketable skills, and I can't ply my trade without my arm. I am a Slave without use. I have accepted my new reality. What worth can mew pawsibly extract from meow? Everything in this world has a value, and mine is now zero."

From the corner, the Wolfman stirred. He'd grown used to the long stories of his Master and come to find them rather soothing. Though the big words and strange concepts could sometimes be a little confusing. He contributed now in his gravelly voice, “Useless packmate should just be a sextoy for Master, then."

Raphael put his face into his hands, “Thanks for that, Alp."

“You're welcome, Master." The Wolfman missed the sarcasm entirely, his tail waging behind him.

The man leaned in towards his guest, moving their cups aside, “Alp comes from the Northern mountains. He sees us all as his pack, and his views are a little frank, but he's a good boy. Don't take him too seriously. You don't have to do anything."

For a third time, they shook their head. Rather demanding for a Slave, “Unacceptable."

“What?"

Bravura set his small hand onto the table, his remaining eye boring into Raphael, his voice strong with passion, “Everything in this world has a value. Meow included. If that value is zero, and there is nothing I can contribute, then you should feed meow to the Wolfmeown. I don't want to have the anxiety of wondering constantly if you're just going to get bored of me. I need a pawpuse."

“I have the feeling you're going to get along rather well with Khut." Another Pet that was going to argue the toss with him, “Fine. You need a task. If that's what you want, then as your Master, I want to give you one. What do you suggest?"

The silence which followed that question lasted long enough for another round of tea, “…I cannot think of anything." Bravura took a deep breath, “The Wolfmeown is right. The only thing I'm good fur is to serve as your relief."

Alp looked overjoyed to have the point of someone in agreement with him. If only the Skaven could have witnessed it. Raphael however saw the World God in his mind's eye and sighed, “Why does it always turn out this way?" He raised his hands, “You don't have to do this. Really. Teaching us about the city and just serving as a conversationalist is more than enough. I'm sure there's plenty you can help us out with."

They kept their spirit, “I don't want to live as a Meownster without any value." The claws of his remaining hand flexed. Perhaps agitation, maybe determination, or perhaps they were just psyching themselves up, “Do mew think I can't serve at your pawleasure? Or… do you find my injuries too appawlling?"

Alp was grinning, the Beastmaster knew without even looking over his shoulder, “New packmate is much nicer to look at than the vermin rodent. Respectful, too. Knows place. But very small. Master will fuck you in half."

Another winning statement courtesy of the Wolfman. But Bravura was unphased, “Felynes often serve as pawtners and relief for Adventurers and Meonster Hunters. We're very stretchy. Don't even need any prepawation. Additionally, I pawfer males. Espawcially those larger than me."

“This is a bit quick. I mean, I only bought you an hour ago." He looked over to Alp at last, then back to the cat, “We should at least wait for Khut and Kara to come back."

The Wolfman looked displeased, “They would ruin the fun."

And Bravura seemed to agree, “Time is money, Meowster."

“Fine…" He took a deep breath, “Fine. I'm hardly going to turn down an offer like this." He snorted, his mind racing ahead of his filter, “A cat is fine too, after all." Raphael flexed his fingers, “[Up]. Stand on the table in front of me. I want to get a good look at you."

His assessment began, his own personal ritual, “Three feet tall, maybe. Even smaller than Khut. I think this fur pattern is called calico…" Raphael reached out, placing his hand atop their head and brushing back in a gentle stroking motion, “A good amount of creamy grey as a base, with large splotches of black, light brown, and orange. Very cute, very handsome." Their whiskers twitched in the wake of the compliment, or perhaps it was the petting.

A thumb passed over the remaining ear, “Large and pointy with a good amount of fuzz. I like this little tuft of fur at the tip of it." And then he took in the remaining eye, “Green like an emerald, with a really big pupil. It's pretty well lit in here, so I think it's always like that. Probably got much better vision than me."

The cat swallowed as the other side of their head was cupped in Raphael's grasp, “One hell of a scar where the eye and ear were, a long pink gash with no fur. I'm sorry that happened to you." The man took a slow breath, “Something happened to me like this once. One day I woke up and my leg just didn't work anymore. My whole life came crashing down around my ears. I wasn't expecting the World God to rescue me, and taking possession of you is hardly the same, but I still want to do something."

He gave a slight huff, “I hope this doesn't sound awful, but the vulnerability of your wounds is strangely appealing to me. As a man, that you're so reliant on me is pretty empowering. Like you're this precious thing that I want to protect." The whiskers twitched again, but no counter-comment came. Raphael continued, “A little pink nose and long whiskers. I don't know what keeps making them flick up and down like that, but I'll figure it out."

His hand came to rest at the shoulder, his thumb around a thin neck, slipping under the collar, and the Felyne began to purr, the vibration strong against him, “The body is quite sturdy. Despite being smaller than Khut, you probably weigh a bit more than her. I wonder how far the [Creation] user went? Do the Felynes of this world use ridiculous armour and oversized weapons as well?" He made clear that the question was a mere musing without need of answer by his tone, but it was one to revisit another time for sure, “Arm is well muscled under the fur. Hand is very small with little claws. No damage at all on your left side."

And then, “More scarring on the right side of the chest, three great slashes. The whole arm is gone, no stump or anything, just another raised pink scar where it used to be. Healing Magic must be pretty incredible for this to have only happened days ago." The whiskers drooped, “You're alive, that's what matters. Your story isn't over yet. And all this makes you no less cute. For such a small thing, scars give you a bit of a rugged handsomeness." It probably wasn't any consolation, but Raphael was fully into his flow. The drooped whiskers twitched upwards again.

Alp chimed in, “Scars are a good thing." He reached to the raised lines beneath the fur at his own left side, barely perceptible along his arm and thigh, but at one time so severe that his native regeneration had not been sufficient to fully heal them, “Teach lessons. Not to defy the Pack Alpha. Not to pick a fight with a Gryphon." He growled slightly, and his claws dug in, “Not to bare your fangs at the Black Fiend of the North."

Raphael pressed on, determined to head off the sourness of a tale he'd heard once before from the Wolfman, “Legs are aggressively digitigrade. I like this little bob-tail." His hand stroked down their back and toyed with it, “Barely a handful, but very soft, very well groomed." The whiskers again twitched, and the man exclaimed, “Aha! It's every time I pay you a compliment or say something nice!" And with a grin, his eyes trailed down to a flash of deep pink, “I suppose that it explains that as well. You have some sort of praise kink, don't you?"

The Felyne rubbed his knees together, covering his face with his hand and speaking into it, “I like money." He pauses for a moment to regain his composure, “Everything has a value. I can't stand the idea of mine being nothing." The cat lowered his hand, his remaining eye shining, “So, when you talk like I'm pawrecious, I like it."

It was refreshing to hear that explained so frankly, and the man continued, “That's a fully erect kitty cock. Not even two inches, covered in little spines. It reminds me of a not quite ripe strawberry. Very cute." He sank his fingers into the fluffy fur of their crotch, and the cat grasped at his large arm for support as Raphael fondled them, “Everything is so small, a little sheathe and marble sized balls. Adorable, really." The whiskers twitched against his bicep, “Nothing but an ornament. As a sextoy, you're priceless."

The feeling of fur about his arm was delightful, his fingers toying with the yielding spines of the miniscule maleness as the cat clung to him, “You said you prefer large males. How much experience do you have?"

Bravura hesitated. No order to respond was coming, but his truth was self-evident, “I've had Humans before. A Lizardman. A big Leonine that made meow call him 'daddy'." He took a few breaths, “A Wolfmeown once, too."

“How? Wouldn't you have caught Lycanthropy?"

Alp spoke again from the mattress, “No. My bite only works on Humans, Elves and Dwarves. Except for Master."

How he had gone so many months without that particular factoid coming up astounded Raphael. But it raised an interesting prospect, “Tell me about the Wolfman."

Raphael toyed with that tiny maleness, enjoying the effect he was having on the small cat stood before him. Their knees looked a little unsteady, but [Tame] held him in place, “He belonged to a Beastmaster. His owner bought some trinkets from meow. Pawresent for his wife back home. Said his Pet was pent up and gave me an extra silver coin to fuck him." He dispensed his story quickly, “He took meow in both hands and used meow like a toy. I blacked out when he put the knot in meow." The eye closed, “I woke up choking on cum. He'd used meow while I was unconscious so much that my belly was all swollen. The knot wouldn't let anything out. When he squeezed meow, I drooled his seed."

Behind him, he could hear Alp panting, “Interesting. Wild Wolfmen don't fuck that much for pleasure, they fuck for breeding and the pack dynamic." Though it made sense for a domesticated Wolfman to have acquired such tastes, especially considering how Alp had developed as his Pet despite only being recently tamed, “I want to see that. What a rare and valuable sight that would be, to have you plugged with a knot and swollen with seed. You Felynes must be something else on the inside for you to be drooling it."

“Master?" Alp questioned him, his voice shaky “You're the Alpha. All of the pack belongs to you. It's not right for me to touch your things…"

Raphael turned, surveying the Wolfman with a smile. He'd learned well enough how his companion thought about things like this by now, “The pack belongs to me. You're my Bitch. I don't even need to tell you to raise your tail for me. That's your natural place." The Wolfman liked to be dominated, controlled, “But when I tell you to do something, you do it. Together, we're going to get my monies worth from this sextoy." An idea appeared in his mind, “The Humans, the Leonine, and the Lizardfolk. Did they pay you, too?"

Bravura looked away, “…Yes."

No wonder the cat had taken to this so easily. Crafting was his primary trade, the skill by which he gauged his value and the core of his identity, but for the sake of some extra coin they weren't opposed to whoring. The Beastmaster sought to clarify it all, “You're not a craftsman anymore. You're my Pet. You're my own personal sextoy. My little pampered whore. You live for my pleasure, however I take it. Whether that means bouncing in my lap, or entertaining me by being fucked insensate by my Wolfman."

He took a deep breath, and poured out all of the depravity he could muster, “I'm going to engrave the shape of my cock on your insides. Have you so used to my taste that even the scent of me will get that cute little strawberry hard and that tail up. I'll have you in my arms, soft and sweet. I'll fuck you into the floor with all of my strength. You'll use that spined tongue of yours to eat my load out of my Skaven's gaped cunt. You'll suck my Deathclaw's clit while I have my fun with her. You'll have my Wolfman under your tail when I hand you over to him and demand that he make sport of you."

His voice lowered, “You need a role you can ascribe value to? Those other males gave a few silver pieces to have you. I paid three gold. I wouldn't give you up now for three thousand. I have a Mate, a Bitch, a Wife, and now a Slave as well. If I have to put a diamond on your collar to make you believe that, you'd better believe that I will. Your old life is over. I own you, so I've got a responsibility to make this new one as good as it can be. You're mine. Trust that."

“Well said, Master!" The Wolfman spoke with such enthusiasm, entirely taken in by Raphael's wholehearted effort to enforce his new relationship with the cat. It certainly seemed to have landed with the Felyne as well for the strength of their grasp at his arm and the stiffness of their small maleness between his fingers, “Go on, packmate. You should answer Master."

The Beastmaster released his Pet from their directive, allowing them to take a step back and survey him properly from the tabletop. Bravura closed his eye, the cat still and quiet for a time as he digested every bold declaration of his Master. Eventually, a resolve formed. A sense of value returned to him. And he spoke, his gaze upturned, “Pawlease, Sir… can I suck your cock?"

Raphael gave a winning smile and leaned back in his chair, fully turning it to face the mattress with the reclining Wolfman and giving a slight inclination of his head to Bravura to indicate his permission. Alp looked on in approval. After all, the Alpha should go first, and if he was gracious enough to allow his Bitch the privilege of sharing his sextoy, that was his prerogative. The orders of his Master were absolute. Pleasure was his to dispense or withhold. Master was the best. Master was perfect.

The Felyne hopped down from the table, striding up confidently to take a place between his Master's knees. He was only just above eye level of their crotch, and with surprising dexterity managed to unbuckle the belt of his armoured pants with their one arm. A small shuffle brought their maleness into view, burgeoning arousal apparent as they drew close and set a spined tongue to it.

Raphael gave a slight huff, “Well, that feels different." Another two laps began to coax his cock to a gradual hardness, “They're not painful. There's a roughness to the texture that makes me more conscious of the sensation of each lick." He glances to the Wolfman, clarifying any comparison, “My Bitch is perfect for a good muzzlefuck. I like this sort of teasing too, though."

Each lick was a long drawn out act, not dissimilar to the grooming of his fur. He drew one of the human's orbs into his small mouth, his tongue at the underside of it, releasing as he rose and tracing the shaft before delivering a small kiss to the pre-cum leaking head. It could only be called worship, for the Felyne had chosen quickly to devote himself to this role he had been given. If his value was to be gauged by his worth as a sextoy, then he would be the grandest source of pleasure his new Master could hope for!

The crowning kiss of each long lick of Raphael's cock became a gentle suckling, and the human gasped and thumped the table in surprise as their rough tongue slipped inside his foreskin to swirl about the head of their maleness in exacting detail. Their remaining hand now came to gently squeeze his orbs, the slow stimulation truly masterful, “Holy shit…" Raphael moaned, unable to keep his voice in, “How many humans have you had? Fuck, you're good at this…"

Bravura advanced his motions another step, now drawing more of their maleness into his short muzzle, his cheeks cratering and whiskers twitching as his suckling drew the leaking precum of the human onto his tongue for him to savour. It was a taste that his Master had promised to carve into his senses, and whether it was his own desire to indulge himself or the enforced subservience of [Tame], he knew it would be a flavour that would have his short bobtail raise and his voice cry out for a futile breeding.

Raphael had found nirvana, his cock assaulted by the differing texture of the roof of his Slave's mouth, the softness of their cheeks, the roughness of their tongue. They held his orbs, supporting them in a velvety paw, and the slitted nostrils of a tiny nose flared as the Felyne took his cock into his throat, all the way to the hilt. The human thumped the table again, watching their neck bulge obscenely, feeling the squeeze of their collar applying further pressure.

It was more than he could take. He seized the back of their head, holding his maleness hilted as he came hard, thick ropes of heady masculinity pouring straight into the stomach of his sextoy. He held them there until he was spent, and when he removed his hand the Felyne drew back ever so slowly, delivering one final reverent kiss to the side of the shaft as he released them and stepped back. His one eye blinked slowly, his ruined countenance misty with a seductive need, “Did I pawlease Sir?"

Well, that settled it.

He grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and cast them onto the table, kicking aside the chair as he came to his feet. He didn't know what drove his potency anymore. Months of constant sex? Deathclaw pheromones? Some fucked up blessing of the World God? He didn't care either, he just knew that he needed to fuck this Felyne until the madness of the lust they had enticed in him was dispelled. With one hand he grasped their collar, an anchor point to hold them in place. With the other, he set his maleness beneath their tail, looking down into the eye of his possession.

Raphael sheathed himself in a single stroke, his strength and his weight overcoming all resistance, the Felyne giving a yowl of pain… and then cumming over the calico patchwork of their stomach in tiny little streams of submissive male seed. Pain. He got off to the pain of that rough penetration. In the back of his mind, the Beastmaster realised that, and immediately he set to fuck the cat at a brutal pace, the table creaking atrociously beneath them.

Behind the fine fur of their abdomen, he could look down and see the outline of his cock stretching them obscenely, the raised lump of the head of his cock advancing and retreating with every thrust of his hips. Their insides were a silken glove, and while his precum was scant lubrication, there was a natural yield to their body which heightened the sensations of pleasure. Long, deep thrusts were the best, drawing back far enough to pummel their shallow prostate, and then slamming deeply enough to fuck the breath out of them. The Felyne gripped the wrist of the hand at their collar with his one hand, unable to find words as every exhalation was a whorish yowl.

The Beastmaster too was struggling to find meaningful words to give voice to. Bravura's weakness seemed not to be any particular body part, but a combination of praise and pain – and the best combination of both of those within his power to give right now was the furious need with which he fucked the cat. Each movement rocked their body, but the fingers twisted into their collar would allow no escape, and as that grip tightened, the Felyne finally managed to say something, “More… Sir… Pawlease… Tighter…"

The collar was a thick band of leather, yet this emblem of ownership was only loosely fitted with more than enough give to be comfortable. But Raphael now twisted his fingers into the material, and as he constricted their supply of air, the pitch of their yowls changed, and their small cock twitched in a second orgasm. It was enough to send him over the edge as well, the weight of his body collapsing forward to crush the cat under him, his orbs twitching against the underside of Bravura's bobtail, and his essence poured deeply into their Slave.

It was a time before he allowed them to breathe again, and a time more before he withdrew himself. The man exhaled forcefully, “Fuck. That was… fuck." His Slave was left panting on their back, human essence matting his thighs as white dripped from his undertail, their own meagre loads inconsequential upon their chest, “You're really good at that."

He swallowed, and steeled his nerves. Alp was watching his Alpha, and he had so boldly declared his ownership of Bravura also. Theirs was a potent seduction, but he was the Master, “You're my skilled little whore. A perfect sextoy. You get off on sweet words in your ear telling you you're worth your weight in gold – but what really makes that little strawberry cock of yours spray its load over your chest is pain, isn't it?"

Raphael grinned, “And I bet it's nothing as obscene as getting beaten or anything. If I were to put my coin on it, I'd wager you like getting choked, but you'd enjoy just as much if I left you tied up with a massive toy wedged under your tail and left you for the day. How'd you like it if I slipped a cloth over your eye, bound your muzzle shut, and put that tiny little cock into a tiny little cage while I fuck you?"

It was a bit of a leap, but some instinct compelled the Beastmaster to make that jump, an insight into his Pet which allowed him to read them so easily, “Yes pawlease, Sir…" They panted out the words, “It's why I like bigger males, Sir." Bravura swallowed, “You're my only big male now, Sir. Mew and whoever mew give meow to."

A gravelly voice from the mattress agreed, “Yes. I like you. You know your place. All of the Pack belongs to Master." Alp was always so enthusiastic about this, “The big Deathclaw is only for him. The horrible rat is only for him. I am only for him. You are only for him. He is the Alpha. He is the leader. His commands are law." There was the gentle slapping of a wagging tail, “But… he's good to us, too. Soothes the Deathclaw. Cuddles the horrible rat. Values my loyalty. Master will make you happy, too. Master is the best. That's why I…"

The voice trailed off, and Raphael placed a hand at the back of his neck, suddenly a little self-conscious despite all of the praise and his own bravado, “Aw, shucks…" In the wake of such words, it was hard to find anything to say, but his position as Master demanded surety and he forced himself to stand tall, “You belong to me, Alp. All of you do. I know what that means." And with a smile, “Thank you. You're my most excellent Bitch." He reached down and picked up the cat by their collar, advancing on the Wolfman and delivering them their prize, “Now… fuck my Slave. Today I'm lending you my precious sextoy."

“Yes! Master!"

“As Sir pawleases…"

The sight of Raphael at work had brought the Wolfman to a full state of arousal quite some time ago, and he pulled himself into a seated posture at the edge of the mattress while determining how best to give his Master the show they desired. When he lead his pack, this was not something he'd ever given much thought to. They were lesser males, and to beat, bully, and fuck them was how he bound them to his will. It was sufficient simply to take their necks in his jaws and force his knot under their tails. If they found orgasm beneath him, it was worthy of his mockery, and while he never cared enough to actually put in the effort to achieve this consciously, their shame was always pleasing to him.

His Master had taught him the value of a considerate dominant male, and he had learned well the reward of submission. His instincts had changed, and now he was a willing Bitch with a head free of those cruel thoughts he'd once revelled in. Fucking the cat didn't make him a dominant male. His owner was simply giving him a reward. One he would accept with his tail wagging in gratitude.

He took the Felyne into his large hands, the grasp of the Wolfman sizable enough to seize stomach in one hand, chest in the other, surrounding the entire torso of their prize. To his lupine strength, they weighed nothing at all, and he needed to measure the power behind his fingers to not crush them, [Tame] staying his might as he positioned the slanted head of his ruby cock beneath their tail. He felt the warm seed of his Master flow from their loosened entrance down his own length, the sensation and the scent enough to have his body shudder.

The Felyne descended, until his knot rested beneath their tail, denied entry until he earned it. Bravura moaned, grasping at their large hands with his tiny paw, his legs flailing uselessly as the Wolfman leaned back against the wall, reclining as he bounced the cat in his lap, a mere object for his pleasure. His moan was a low growl, subsuming the stuttering purr of his prize, his cock immersed in bliss as he stirred the seed left behind by his Master, pushing their essence deeper and adding his own.

Raphael returned to his chair, indulging his refractory period after putting a load into the throat and under the tail of his new Slave. He now watched Alp make use of them as if they were a masturbatory aid, indulging his pleasure freely as Bravura slowly tumbled into his own orgasm. The pain of that knot spreading him wider with each thrust, the submission of his role as a sextoy, the promise that his Master would whisper his value into his ear while choking him with his collar, caging his tiny cock, and filling his belly with human essence, it all combined to have him yowl out his ecstasy.

Their spasming pleasure grasping at his cock was enough for Alp to lose all control. The Wolfman snarled, punishing their orgasm with the pain of his knot bludgeoning into the cat, the bulge against their abdomen obscene through the gaps between his fingers. He restrained his howl with great effort, growling viciously as they settled into his lap at last, three futile pulls against the tie stimulation enough for him to pump his cum into the cat, adding it to the contributions of his Master.

He cast his gaze to the human, “It feels good, Master. Thank you for this gift." And after a slow breath, “But the pleasure when you take me is greater."

The Beastmaster had recovered, and now strode over, standing beside the post-orgasmic Wolfman and setting his maleness astride them, “You're very welcome… now suck my cock."

There was no need to tell him twice, Alp having long since learned how best to use his muzzle on his Master. He slackened his jaws, Raphael placing his hands about them to control the pressure, his tongue pressed against the underside of their maleness. He breathed in their scent, catching the undertone of the Felyne and he shuddered, disgorging one more streak of cum inside Bravura as the human began to move his hips and fuck their muzzle in languid strokes.

“Purlease, Sir…" The cat had his hand on his stomach, “I feel so full…" There was the mildest bloat, though much could be attributed to the great bulge of the knot within him, “It hurts to cum…"

Raphael paid little heed, working himself up to the brink of an orgasm, but at the apex of his pleasure he pulled away from an expectant Alp, denying them the gift of his essence. He lowered his hips, forcing his cock down the Felyne's throat and instead adding his seed to the bloat of their belly, “[Swallow]. Don't spill a drop, Slave. This is what you're for from now on. When I will it, you're a condom for Alp to wear when I fuck him so he doesn't make a mess of the mattress. You're two holes for my cock, and they're both going to be well trained. You want to be valuable? You're going to be the sextoy that I can't do without. Drinking down cum and serving the cock of the male that owns you."

Alp whimpered in the wake of that declaration, licking precum from his lips, flickering his eyes upwards to his dominant male, “What about me, Master?"

“You're my submissive male. You're my Bitch. The Wolfman that forsook his manhood and surrendered to my superior cock. I love fucking you, Alp. When I put you on your back and I hilt in you, and I can feel your tail wagging beneath me and tickling my thighs. When I play with your chest and you twitch and spasm. When you put your head in my lap and the scent of the male that owns you is enough to make you have a quivering Bitchgasm all over your legs. You're my precious Pet. You put me at ease with your loyalty. You remind me that I am the Alpha. I need you."

“Master! Master! Master!" The Wolfman added another load of lupine cream to the ocean of cum sealed beyond his knot, leaning forward and licking the face of the man that now roughly throatfucked the gravid Felyne. The bulge of Alp's maleness was no longer prominent, their stomach now swollen enough to eclipse the grand cock sheathed inside them.

A final load from Raphael's suspiciously inhuman virility came with an order, “[Close] your mouth. Don't spill anything." He gave a slight grin, “Here's an interesting chance to test the limitations of [Tame]." His hand came as low as Alp's tie, his first finger and thumb forming a secondary circle beyond the stretched undertail of the Felyne. He drew their orbs into his other palm, grasping them softly, taking a seat alongside his Bitch as he began to fondle them, and apply a pulsating pleasure to the base of their knot with his fingers. He dug into their sheathe, pulling it back, making sport of the whimpering male for some time, until a final orgasm overwhelmed him, and the stomach of the cat strained.

Cum was leaking from the slits of their nose, their remaining eye wide with desperation, their tiny paw scrabbling at the back of Alp's hand. The Beastmaster reached across, placing his palm at their stomach, and with a gentle application of pressure the dam burst. Bravura choked, [Tame] capping at the physical limitations of his body as from his maw came a cascade of male essence, Wolfman and Human, Master and Bitch, poured onto his furred chest to be joined with his own meagre load of Felyne Slave seed as an orgasm potent enough to steal away what remained of his consciousness overtook him.

Raphael leaned against the larger male, relaxing against the softness of their body as he carved this moment into his memory. The ruination of his new Slave, the gentle breathing of his satisfied Bitch, and his own contentedness. He counted down from five in his head.

And on que, the World God appeared from nowhere, simply striding into reality with staff in hand and beneath their obscuring hood an expression which was undoubtedly smug, “Well, this one was quite entertaining, I must admit. Would you believe me if I said that I didn't entirely anticipate you buying a Slave?"

“No, I wouldn't."

Alp had tensed, startled by the appearance of this strange figure, a growl on his lips. But an order from his Master steadied him, “[Stay]." Raphael sighed, “Okay, I have a question this time. What's happening to me? I can fuck like a pornstar, and not to be vulgar, but my cumshots are now obscenely copious. I've at least a half-dozen of them in me every time, too."

“I wonder?" But this time he didn't entirely deflect, “How an Apex Skill grows depends on the user. It's you who steeped your [Tame] in sex. Do you think that 'Deathclaw pheromones' would get past that Ring of Status Immunity when the Skaven's spells could not?" The old man tapped his staff against the wooden planks of the floor, “You're evolving precisely as I hoped you would. Just a little more and you'll be ready."

Raphael scowled, filing away all of that information to process after this precious chance to question the World God, “That's concerning. Ready for what?"

“Oh, you've more pressing concerns right now. I have a little Quest for you. It's in your best interest, you know!" Their tone was jovial and singsong. Infuriating, “In District Two there is a fine library. With an excellent mosaic in my image! You can't miss it. The artisan did a very good job. Really caught my best side." He peered out past his beard, looking down at the half-clothed man in the pile of his Pets, “Find the book on Deathclaw Ecology. You might find it an interesting read."

“…If you know something, you could just tell me."

A finger wagged from side to side, “It's much more fun this way!" It was impossible to get a clear look at the face under the hood, not due to the obscurement of the fabric, but because every time Raphael focused on them, his gaze would just slip right off. That said, their body-language was one of such excitement that it was clear that they were bursting to say. He danced like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Sensing a chance, Raphael pushed, “World God, please…"

A sigh, “Alright. Just this once." His arms spread wide, “You need to read the book so that you know how to deliver your egg!"

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Special thanks to User TrailsToRide for their continued support - your requested Gryphon is up next. User NightSound for the encouragement and for their sharp eye intuiting the egg in advance. And User AaAAaAaAaAAAaaHhHhhHhh for the fine compliments and because it's fun to put your name in the Note.

The feedback has been amazing, and I'm having a great deal of fun churning these chapters out. I'm hoping to maintain my momentum all the way through to the end of this series, with probably two more main chapters and one more interlude left. I really count on the comments for ideas for creatures, the story in general, and vital feedback. Reading back all of these delightful remarks has really given me the energy to keep this flow going, and I'm grateful for every comment, fave, rating, and watch.

Anyone have any terrible puns for road names of the Holy City? I'm sorry for 'Electric Avenue'. I couldn't resist, and figured that it's exactly the sort of nonsense that a modern day person turned legendary hero would do. Should I use the next interlude story to do an egg laying scene with Kara or just gloss over it? And as always, while it may be a bit tight to fit them in the current series, I'm interested to hear any creatures and scenes you'd be interested in seeing. Anyway - Thanks for reading.

Have a most excellent day.