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In a dark world on the verge of falling to chaos comes a man, to right wrongs? No, to breed them into submission.", "count": "5", "submission_left_submission_id": "3636622", "submission_left_file_name": "5594981_GuiltyDen_tb_part_4.rtf", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5594/5594981_GuiltyDen_tb_part_4.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5594/5594981_GuiltyDen_tb_part_4.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5594/5594981_GuiltyDen_tb_part_4.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "At last He takes what is His, a hole deep enough to fuck.\n\nThe final part of my five part series for [url=https://inkbunny.net/Basque]Basque[/url]. With great thanks to them for their patience and understanding.\n\nFeedback is always treasured, even just a quick critique on what you didn't like, I'm a grown up, I can take it.\n\nWith this done I'll be focussing more on one-off stories, unless someone wants to steal me away from that with another commission.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "At last He takes what is His, a hole deep enough to fuck.

The final part of my five part series for Basque. With great thanks to them for their patience and understanding.

Feedback is always treasured, even just a quick critique on what you didn't like, I'm a grown up, I can take it.

With this done I'll be focussing more on one-off stories, unless someone wants to steal me away from that with another commission.", "writing": "They dropped Chitza at the foot of the castle wall, she'd be no more use to them after the day's march, or ride in her case. Every second of the journey she'd spent clinging to The Barbarian's chest, a girthy rod jammed in her sex. The muscular bovine hadn't spoken more than his usual laconic nature, but both women could tell He was excited, and not just because the otter had been serving as a living cock-holster for the last eighteen hours, receiving a constant trickle of pre-ejaculate with every step He took.\n\nBy the time they'd reached the gothic edifice of the Demon Queen's seat of power, Chitza had barely been able to string two words together, merely pointing the way between traps, and needing The Barbarian to bend His shaft to bring her level with any locks that needed her thief’s touch. Not once did He let her off his rod, stating only \"I'm comfortable. Do not complain.\"\n\nWhen they'd faced opposition the otter had spent the entire fight swinging back and forth, secured to His dick by the sheer girth of His flare inside her cervix. Every punch He'd delivered, every swing of His hooves, every leap, bound, and kick, had made Chitza bounce, grind and squeal, the world a blur of fighting and fucking, as veiny meat remodelled her innards into a perfect caste of His cock. When they'd dispatched the last demon, there wasn't anything left in her body but moans, and a barrel's worth of viscous slime. It was mercy when He finally plucked her from around His phallus, and left her against the cold stone to gasp her way through the continuing orgasms. That left just two who walked through the now broken gate. The Barbarian, and the shocked white rodent at His heel.\n\nThe spindly gables, vaults, and buttresses of the castle's exterior permeated the halls as well. Dark stone, dressed in red and purple, gold and brass, all of it lined with trophies and portraits, spoils of battle, and depictions of the same sculpted black furred woman, the artist sparing none of the detail from their rendition of the Hellhound's rise from demonic slave, to ruler of the infernal. Each era of her ascent saw a supposed savage, shedding their past, to become the immaculate figure, singular, and demanding awe. \n\nNot that He cared, stomping forward with eager determination.\n\n\"Wait! We can't, just, storm the throne room! We need a plan, we need-\" Asta's protests were cut short, the massive door before them opening as easily as curtains. Braziers flared along the length of the chamber, leading to the foot of a raised dais, on which menaced a throne of teeth and bone, bleached the colour of ash, fused together by the intense heat of the inferno below. But that was just theatrics, the final gilding to the panoply of the room's sole occupant.\n\nAtop the twisted mound of spikes preceded She. The Demon Queen, The Hell Bringer, the monster that had bit the hands of the devil's before Her, and clawed Her way to the world above. She was immaculate, Her dress a hybrid of hell-forged soldier, and the aristocratic costumes of the mortal lords She so easily supplanted. Within it Her body was angular, sharp and precise, cut perfectly like every pane in the stained-glass above. Her fur was black as midnight, a shade defined by the faintest blue at its edge, while Her eyes were faceted rubies that glittered in the flames. Reclined as She was, She still appeared monstrously tall, with regality accented in Her every line, the unnatural grace of the otherworldly, so removed from nature as to hide Her origin.\n\n\"At last, my unwelcome guest,\" thick and smoky, Her voice filled the chamber, carrying to every corner. Her perfect claws clicked, and the heavy door slammed behind the only adversary She saw before Her. The Barbarian did not blink, not caring as the white rodent was sealed away, leaving only Him, and Her, alone at the fulcrum of fate. The Queen of corruption rose to perfect paws, gait clipped as She deigned to descend the steps towards Him.\"I have heard stories, of a beast to put even the lords of lust to shame, but I did not believe, until you had the gall to desecrate My sanctum.\"\n\nIn response, the massive mammoth of a bovine grunted, cracking the knuckles of His fist, stepping forward with no sign of concern. “Small… I am disappointed.”\n\n\"Really, so arrogant? I've taken on greater men, deposed the lords of hell, carved myself a kingdom from people such as you, who dared stand before me,\" She smirked, toying with Him as they came to stand before each other, equal in stature, \"but perhaps you might prove more enterta-\"\n\n[i]'SMACK!'[/i]\n\nThe fist smashed into the demon's gut, sending Her flying back the length of the hall to crash into Her own throne with a sound like broken glass. The guise of beauty shattered, falling away as the infernal beast within slipped through the cracks in Her control. Gone were the sharp and sculpted lines, as a larger, bestial creature now wore the crimson dress, replete with claws, and braided whip-tails, threaded with the skulls of the conquered.\n\n\"So be it then,\" She growled through Her many fangs, shedding the last strands of the illusion, to let the inner warrior loose.\n\nThe air snapped.\n\nWhere The Barbarian had stood, now He was bent forward, palms pressed against two clawed fists, as He and She matched limbs in battle. \n\nBiceps straining at the force of Her return, The Barbarian [i]‘Locked Horns’[/i] with the crimson eyed demon, their breath tangling in the other’s fur. “Got bigger, good. Not big enough.”\n\nTitanic forces clashed, shock-waves fluttered banners and toppled statues from their mountings, the ground shook, the stone itself cracked. They grappled, fist, claw, hoof, fang, horn, tail, a deadly struggle that She was sure She was winning. She had the experience, the ferocity, the tenacity. She had clawed her way out from under Her masters, from out of hell itself, She would not be bested by some naked brute!\n\nA raking slice managed the impossible, finding purchase on the bovine's skin and biting deep. Blood seeped, painting His pectoral and bicep. She sneered, tasting iron in the air, “All bravado, no brains to know your betters!.”\n\nHe grunted, teeth grit, and repaid Her with a swipe of His own.\n\n[i]'Riiiiip!'[/i]\n\nStreamers of crimson filled the air, as the remains of the demon's gown fluttered away. A heart-beat pause in the fight, their eyes tracked down exposed fur, across petite breasts, and then further. Each abdominal on the ascended hellhound was topped with a cherry red button, undeniable erect from the rigours of battle, Her hated animal nature revealed by the belly teats of a feral running down Her front, as if She were still just a-\n\n\"Bitch,\" He rumbled, steam rising from where His own blood boiled dry across His chest, \"you will look good on my cock.\"\n\nThe queen of hell, howled, rage She hadn't felt in years bursting forth in a rain of rending strikes.\n\n“I am no mere bitch! I am no animal! I am a queen! I am mistress of hell itself!” Cutting, slicing, intent on killing. But the more vicious She became, the faster He grew, His body heating and burning, a ruby glow spreading across His skin as He finally began to exert Himself. She was pushing Him, the more fury She loosed, the hotter and more vital He became. Anyone standing near them would have begun to singe in the furnace exuded by them both, as hellfire flashed in the demon's claws, and an amber glow built in the big bull's balls.\n\n“Fine, Hellbitch, you still belong on my cock.” He was growing excited, already said cock was out and swinging, a whole other limb smacking, thrusting, driving, as they fenced back and forth along the throne room. And that just made the ‘[i]Hellbitch[/i]’ want to maul Him all the more, Her veneer of civility burning off with the last scraps of Her decency.\n\n\"Do not mock, Me! I will show no quarter, you swine, you degenerate, you beast! Who do you think you are? How dare you lust for a Queen of Hell, like a common animal!\"\n\n[i]'Thwack!'[/i]\n\nAn uppercut, and not from His fists, a wet smack as His flare thrust up, and struck the demon-lord across the muzzle, smearing sizzling seminal fluid along Her cheek. Raw, rutting, primal, it was the last straw. With a skirling shriek of infernal winds, black smoke billowed from the hellhound's body, obscuring Her from sight, till a massive paw struck the ground, and another, the dark cloud expanded, curled about limbs four times the size of the woman who had stood there before.\n\nHunched on all fours, bestial, animal, feral, Her four red eyes full of only murder, Her true form unleashed, thrice the size of a horse, and with none of Her sanity. \n\n“FINE,” the canid typhoon spoke, a voice of razors, pain and rage, “IF THOU WANTS A BITCH! THEN FACE HER FANGS!”\n\nA maw of jagged swords clamped on His shoulders, sheer mass bore Him to the ground, a paw heavy as bedrock crashed down on one arm, and when He made to strike with the other, down came the second. Pinned, His only defence was the density of muscles, as the jaws tightened, as teeth began to dig and work into skin with the sound like buckling metal. She would tear, rip, crush, shred His bones, and leave nothing behind.\n\nBut, the fires that were kindled, the arousal that was awoken, they did not simply go out. Contained, unable to be released in battle, they mounted, grew, till His skin seethed with potency, till the aura of heat ignited the air, till with a mighty bellow, He broke. Not in body. But restraint!\n\nThrusting with the one limb She did not restrain, His massive phallus drove like an iron pike into the she-devil's belly with enough force to lift, and then flip Her over His head. Teeth ripped free with a startled animal yelp, as the gargantuan beast flew in a tangle of limbs, crashing down metres away in a startled heap.\n\nShe shook the dust from Her ears, and rose, snarling, only to see Him leaping forward. With His strength, speed, and raw sexual energy, it was too late. He tackled her, pinning Her hindquarters with a might greater than any mortal could muster. Before the terrible claws could shove Him aside, a meaty barge slammed into Her softness below, a glowing, scalding spear that mashed against Her mere animal opening. The thick black lips of a bitch's spade began to cook as a log the length of a full grown male assaulted it, the folds scorching and splitting as the red-hot bar sawed Her cleft.\n\n“You look ready now,” grunted the beast of a bovine, body turned bronze from the fire within, the lusting intent, the virile drive. “Big enough, probably. Good bitch!”\n\n“THOU WOULDST DARE?!” She howled again, bucking and thrashing as a prick a match for her mass reared back and primed Her for penetration. But the burning bull bent Her in two, eyes aflame, so He could grab Her by the throat in a savage mating press, stopping even Her proud decelerations escaping as He transformed the Queen into the sleeve He wanted. Demon flesh bent and buckled, stretched and sundered as the fat flare widened even the hound's passage beyond natural limits. Slowly, implacably, the shaft drilled its way deeper, carving molten channels through Her insides. It took minutes of pounding, thrusting, to drive through the head, the flare, the shaft, the mid ring, and finally, after so long, to feel Her fat vulva kiss His sheath in supplication, a puddle oozing out like Her gurgled protests.\n\nAt last, His quest was complete. He had a woman that could take His whole length. Now all that remained, was to breed it into submission.\n\n[i]‘This cannot be!’[/i] The titanic dog reeled, feeling every lick Her own sex gave that mighty cock. Bestial nature slipped through the cracks of Her mind, undermined Her will, reminding Her of the pleasures of the animal. [i]‘I’m more than this! I will not go back to being a kept pet!’[/i]\n\nWith that terrifying thought, the giant feral swiped, managing to free Her neck from the pinning hand. But His reprisal was instant, lifting from the hips with Her still impaled on His cock, He raised Her bodily, and slammed Her back onto the ground with her arse bared, needing only the strength of His manhood to toss her like a rag-doll. He raised a palm high above Her rump, and slapped, the sound echoing around the room, disciplining the demon dog's disobedient attempts to wriggle off Him. Again, twice, thrice, till the beast quieted, until not so much as a growl escaped Her gullet, only panting. Still the meat pillar remained, holding Her in place as She submitted to the mounting.\n\nGrabbing the corded knots of her tail, He fucked like a beast possessed, unrelenting and unstoppable, heavy wet slaps as babe sized balls smacked into monstrous thighs, sprays of perfumed feminine lubricant forced out with each pound. A thick line of light illuminated the bitch's organs from within, a set of squeezing walls rippling about a meaty shaft criss-crossed in writhing veins.\n\n[i]‘Damn Him, damn me! Why does it feel good?! Why can’t I fight it!?’[/i] Her internal struggle came in small squeals, hiccuped barks, actual speech illuding Her now She was back in her true form, reduced once more to a four-legged feral dog. And She was, that knowledge sank in with every thrust, every smack, every clap of bollocks to Her split thighs. The voice of nature, long denied, rose with the unwelcome pleasures, and spiked with the fear of pain; [i]‘Because we want it.’[/i]\n\nHer body, her instincts, her own inner demons, danced with every pummelling of her cunt, every squelch of the sheath flattening her spade. Her heart, her head, they may have been screaming in fright, but the rest of her was shouting for something else entirely. All the great hell dog could do was take it, her inner animal growing stronger than her pride. [i]‘Survive’[/i], it screamed,[i] ‘Submit and survive,’ [/i]all as her folds stretched to admit the biggest cock she had ever known. No lover she had ever taken could have prepared her for Him. The Barbarian found her every weak spots, and beat them into submission, striking nerves like a hammer on an anvil, sparking thrills and torment in equal measure.\n\nHis rutting grew faster, His titanic testes churned harder, the snorts of steaming breath more frequent. The odd word slipped through His madness to torture her; “Good Bitch”, “Stay dog,”, “Made for it.” And she couldn’t deny half of it, it was a fire stronger than any inferno, a passion stronger than any rage, and it crushed such feeble notions of civility, of grandeur, of destiny, to dust with each clash of flare on her cervix.\n\n“Get.”\n\n[i]‘Huff.’[/i]\n\n“On.”\n\n[i]‘Slam!’[/i]\n\n“My.”\n\n[i]‘Smack!’[/i]\n\n“COCK!”\n\nWith a final bellow, the gates of her womb were breached. Her spade collapsed to admit the broad girth of the sheath, and the siege weapon invaded her final passage, and bulged twice as fat!\n\nShe shut all four eyes, knowing what was coming, that her life was in His hands, that her future was at His mercy. [i]‘Survive and submit,’[/i] the voice urged,[i] ‘accept it, He's strong, He's powerful, He deserves to take it.’[/i]\n\nThe bull tossed His horns and bellowed, the flame inside Him reached its peak. His grip tightened, the base of his shaft bulked, and the whole of his mass pressed down. Hot, scalding seed surged up the long path of His cock, boiling through the tunnel that lead to His bitch's depths, bloating the thick vein from sac to flare, tapping at her cervix in a final warning, before breaking that too in His road of conquest. One, two, three pumps, and Her belly began to distend, swelling beneath her from the endless flow of white lava, near doubling, till she looked to have three whole litters of pups already.\n\nShe howled, the Queen despairing, her inner bitch elating. Unable to resist the dominant male breeding her raw, her ovaries capitulated in seconds, releasing a bounty for her conqueror in hopes He'd spare her after He was done.\n\nBut he was not done.\n\nHe had her again against the wall. He had her bouncing in His arms. Had her belly up and whining. Had her muzzle, her cunt, her arse, every which way He pleased, till the voice of the ruler of hell was silent, and all that remained with the loyal, tamed, broken, bitch. The only sounds her mouth could make, whimpers, moans, and delighted barks, as the queen of hell was fucked, literally, out of the hellhound’s mind, leaving only satisfied flesh, soaked fur, and a well bred bitch.\n\nWithout her demonic will to hold it, the door slid open, allowing the voyeur who'd been listening and pleasuring herself to the sounds for the last hour see what had become of the woman who had once threatened the world.\n\nAsta stared in awe. Vast swathes of the throne room were caked in steaming cum, the floor was a ruined mess of cracked stone, torn carpets, and viscous slicks. The air was thick with the stench of sex, the musk of mating, the ripe scent of a potent Man fresh from a long, hard, fuck. She gulped, woozy from the scene alone, as her eyes traced the devastation from the entrance to the throne. There He sat, the architect of it all, the seat of power filled with His frame as He reclined, coated in sweat, prick hanging out, slack for now. His hooves rested on the back of a massive beast, an unconscious canine with its tongue flopping out, and an oozing tide slipping from its holes. Only the hound’s twitching claws as she kicked in her coma betrayed she still lived.\n\n\"Girl,\" He grunted, voice calm once more, the fire cooled for now with the intensity of the battle and breeding.\n\n\"Balls.\"\n\nThe white mouse had no protest left, her mind barely comprehending the lay before her, leaving her unchecked desire to be what answered, finally overcoming her hesitation, as a burst of repressed orgasm leaked down her leggings.\n\n\"Yes, sir~.\"\n\n***\n\n[i]... Thus was the Hellbitch conquered, and the hordes of hell defeated. The Horned King took His place upon the throne, and claimed the lands that had fallen to chaos as His own. And all were grateful to Him, and for His protection, submitted themselves to Him willingly.\n\nLords bent their knees, and sent tribute of daughters, wives, slaves, to ensure He would have no need to take them, for none doubted that He could, and would, should they dare resist.\n\nNew settlements were founded, as the old soon became crowded, His many young replenishing those lost to the demons in the years before. So began our golden age of prosperity, the land replenished, and repopulated. But who knows how long this time will last, before He goes in search of conquests new.[/i]\n\n***\n\nThe white mouse set down her quill with a sigh, exhausted, leaning into the thick fur at her back. Her third brood was her largest, and their constant kicking was tiring her. All about the throne room, the royal concubines lounged, three dozen women in various stages of pregnancy, and that was just that day's rotation from the King’s ever growing collection.\n\nFrom elsewhere in the palace could be heard the clopping of many small hooves, as the royal heirs followed in their Father's footsteps, sparing, playing, rutting their own first prizes, the King’s blood strong in all of them.\n\nWith a grunt, the shaggy beast at Asta’s kicked a hind leg until she was comfortable again. The massive bitch had not said a word, nor changed back since the day she had been bested, every trace of her aspirations bred out of her, leaving her content to be a hellhound once more, lounging about her master's domain, and brewing his pups.\n\nHellbitch was content, Hellbitch was happy, she had a good home, a good master, good puppies, and a good cock to keep her satisfied. Hellbitch didn’t need anything else, not anymore.\n\nNot after, He, had tamed her.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "They dropped Chitza at the foot of the castle wall, she'd be no more use to them after the day's march, or ride in her case. Every second of the journey she'd spent clinging to The Barbarian's chest, a girthy rod jammed in her sex. The muscular bovine hadn't spoken more than his usual laconic nature, but both women could tell He was excited, and not just because the otter had been serving as a living cock-holster for the last eighteen hours, receiving a constant trickle of pre-ejaculate with every step He took.

By the time they'd reached the gothic edifice of the Demon Queen's seat of power, Chitza had barely been able to string two words together, merely pointing the way between traps, and needing The Barbarian to bend His shaft to bring her level with any locks that needed her thief’s touch. Not once did He let her off his rod, stating only "I'm comfortable. Do not complain."

When they'd faced opposition the otter had spent the entire fight swinging back and forth, secured to His dick by the sheer girth of His flare inside her cervix. Every punch He'd delivered, every swing of His hooves, every leap, bound, and kick, had made Chitza bounce, grind and squeal, the world a blur of fighting and fucking, as veiny meat remodelled her innards into a perfect caste of His cock. When they'd dispatched the last demon, there wasn't anything left in her body but moans, and a barrel's worth of viscous slime. It was mercy when He finally plucked her from around His phallus, and left her against the cold stone to gasp her way through the continuing orgasms. That left just two who walked through the now broken gate. The Barbarian, and the shocked white rodent at His heel.

The spindly gables, vaults, and buttresses of the castle's exterior permeated the halls as well. Dark stone, dressed in red and purple, gold and brass, all of it lined with trophies and portraits, spoils of battle, and depictions of the same sculpted black furred woman, the artist sparing none of the detail from their rendition of the Hellhound's rise from demonic slave, to ruler of the infernal. Each era of her ascent saw a supposed savage, shedding their past, to become the immaculate figure, singular, and demanding awe.

Not that He cared, stomping forward with eager determination.

"Wait! We can't, just, storm the throne room! We need a plan, we need-" Asta's protests were cut short, the massive door before them opening as easily as curtains. Braziers flared along the length of the chamber, leading to the foot of a raised dais, on which menaced a throne of teeth and bone, bleached the colour of ash, fused together by the intense heat of the inferno below. But that was just theatrics, the final gilding to the panoply of the room's sole occupant.

Atop the twisted mound of spikes preceded She. The Demon Queen, The Hell Bringer, the monster that had bit the hands of the devil's before Her, and clawed Her way to the world above. She was immaculate, Her dress a hybrid of hell-forged soldier, and the aristocratic costumes of the mortal lords She so easily supplanted. Within it Her body was angular, sharp and precise, cut perfectly like every pane in the stained-glass above. Her fur was black as midnight, a shade defined by the faintest blue at its edge, while Her eyes were faceted rubies that glittered in the flames. Reclined as She was, She still appeared monstrously tall, with regality accented in Her every line, the unnatural grace of the otherworldly, so removed from nature as to hide Her origin.

"At last, my unwelcome guest," thick and smoky, Her voice filled the chamber, carrying to every corner. Her perfect claws clicked, and the heavy door slammed behind the only adversary She saw before Her. The Barbarian did not blink, not caring as the white rodent was sealed away, leaving only Him, and Her, alone at the fulcrum of fate. The Queen of corruption rose to perfect paws, gait clipped as She deigned to descend the steps towards Him."I have heard stories, of a beast to put even the lords of lust to shame, but I did not believe, until you had the gall to desecrate My sanctum."

In response, the massive mammoth of a bovine grunted, cracking the knuckles of His fist, stepping forward with no sign of concern. “Small… I am disappointed.”

"Really, so arrogant? I've taken on greater men, deposed the lords of hell, carved myself a kingdom from people such as you, who dared stand before me," She smirked, toying with Him as they came to stand before each other, equal in stature, "but perhaps you might prove more enterta-"

'SMACK!'

The fist smashed into the demon's gut, sending Her flying back the length of the hall to crash into Her own throne with a sound like broken glass. The guise of beauty shattered, falling away as the infernal beast within slipped through the cracks in Her control. Gone were the sharp and sculpted lines, as a larger, bestial creature now wore the crimson dress, replete with claws, and braided whip-tails, threaded with the skulls of the conquered.

"So be it then," She growled through Her many fangs, shedding the last strands of the illusion, to let the inner warrior loose.

The air snapped.

Where The Barbarian had stood, now He was bent forward, palms pressed against two clawed fists, as He and She matched limbs in battle.

Biceps straining at the force of Her return, The Barbarian ‘Locked Horns’ with the crimson eyed demon, their breath tangling in the other’s fur. “Got bigger, good. Not big enough.”

Titanic forces clashed, shock-waves fluttered banners and toppled statues from their mountings, the ground shook, the stone itself cracked. They grappled, fist, claw, hoof, fang, horn, tail, a deadly struggle that She was sure She was winning. She had the experience, the ferocity, the tenacity. She had clawed her way out from under Her masters, from out of hell itself, She would not be bested by some naked brute!

A raking slice managed the impossible, finding purchase on the bovine's skin and biting deep. Blood seeped, painting His pectoral and bicep. She sneered, tasting iron in the air, “All bravado, no brains to know your betters!.”

He grunted, teeth grit, and repaid Her with a swipe of His own.

'Riiiiip!'

Streamers of crimson filled the air, as the remains of the demon's gown fluttered away. A heart-beat pause in the fight, their eyes tracked down exposed fur, across petite breasts, and then further. Each abdominal on the ascended hellhound was topped with a cherry red button, undeniable erect from the rigours of battle, Her hated animal nature revealed by the belly teats of a feral running down Her front, as if She were still just a-

"Bitch," He rumbled, steam rising from where His own blood boiled dry across His chest, "you will look good on my cock."

The queen of hell, howled, rage She hadn't felt in years bursting forth in a rain of rending strikes.

“I am no mere bitch! I am no animal! I am a queen! I am mistress of hell itself!” Cutting, slicing, intent on killing. But the more vicious She became, the faster He grew, His body heating and burning, a ruby glow spreading across His skin as He finally began to exert Himself. She was pushing Him, the more fury She loosed, the hotter and more vital He became. Anyone standing near them would have begun to singe in the furnace exuded by them both, as hellfire flashed in the demon's claws, and an amber glow built in the big bull's balls.

“Fine, Hellbitch, you still belong on my cock.” He was growing excited, already said cock was out and swinging, a whole other limb smacking, thrusting, driving, as they fenced back and forth along the throne room. And that just made the ‘Hellbitch’ want to maul Him all the more, Her veneer of civility burning off with the last scraps of Her decency.

"Do not mock, Me! I will show no quarter, you swine, you degenerate, you beast! Who do you think you are? How dare you lust for a Queen of Hell, like a common animal!"

'Thwack!'

An uppercut, and not from His fists, a wet smack as His flare thrust up, and struck the demon-lord across the muzzle, smearing sizzling seminal fluid along Her cheek. Raw, rutting, primal, it was the last straw. With a skirling shriek of infernal winds, black smoke billowed from the hellhound's body, obscuring Her from sight, till a massive paw struck the ground, and another, the dark cloud expanded, curled about limbs four times the size of the woman who had stood there before.

Hunched on all fours, bestial, animal, feral, Her four red eyes full of only murder, Her true form unleashed, thrice the size of a horse, and with none of Her sanity.

“FINE,” the canid typhoon spoke, a voice of razors, pain and rage, “IF THOU WANTS A BITCH! THEN FACE HER FANGS!”

A maw of jagged swords clamped on His shoulders, sheer mass bore Him to the ground, a paw heavy as bedrock crashed down on one arm, and when He made to strike with the other, down came the second. Pinned, His only defence was the density of muscles, as the jaws tightened, as teeth began to dig and work into skin with the sound like buckling metal. She would tear, rip, crush, shred His bones, and leave nothing behind.

But, the fires that were kindled, the arousal that was awoken, they did not simply go out. Contained, unable to be released in battle, they mounted, grew, till His skin seethed with potency, till the aura of heat ignited the air, till with a mighty bellow, He broke. Not in body. But restraint!

Thrusting with the one limb She did not restrain, His massive phallus drove like an iron pike into the she-devil's belly with enough force to lift, and then flip Her over His head. Teeth ripped free with a startled animal yelp, as the gargantuan beast flew in a tangle of limbs, crashing down metres away in a startled heap.

She shook the dust from Her ears, and rose, snarling, only to see Him leaping forward. With His strength, speed, and raw sexual energy, it was too late. He tackled her, pinning Her hindquarters with a might greater than any mortal could muster. Before the terrible claws could shove Him aside, a meaty barge slammed into Her softness below, a glowing, scalding spear that mashed against Her mere animal opening. The thick black lips of a bitch's spade began to cook as a log the length of a full grown male assaulted it, the folds scorching and splitting as the red-hot bar sawed Her cleft.

“You look ready now,” grunted the beast of a bovine, body turned bronze from the fire within, the lusting intent, the virile drive. “Big enough, probably. Good bitch!”

“THOU WOULDST DARE?!” She howled again, bucking and thrashing as a prick a match for her mass reared back and primed Her for penetration. But the burning bull bent Her in two, eyes aflame, so He could grab Her by the throat in a savage mating press, stopping even Her proud decelerations escaping as He transformed the Queen into the sleeve He wanted. Demon flesh bent and buckled, stretched and sundered as the fat flare widened even the hound's passage beyond natural limits. Slowly, implacably, the shaft drilled its way deeper, carving molten channels through Her insides. It took minutes of pounding, thrusting, to drive through the head, the flare, the shaft, the mid ring, and finally, after so long, to feel Her fat vulva kiss His sheath in supplication, a puddle oozing out like Her gurgled protests.

At last, His quest was complete. He had a woman that could take His whole length. Now all that remained, was to breed it into submission.

‘This cannot be!’ The titanic dog reeled, feeling every lick Her own sex gave that mighty cock. Bestial nature slipped through the cracks of Her mind, undermined Her will, reminding Her of the pleasures of the animal. ‘I’m more than this! I will not go back to being a kept pet!’

With that terrifying thought, the giant feral swiped, managing to free Her neck from the pinning hand. But His reprisal was instant, lifting from the hips with Her still impaled on His cock, He raised Her bodily, and slammed Her back onto the ground with her arse bared, needing only the strength of His manhood to toss her like a rag-doll. He raised a palm high above Her rump, and slapped, the sound echoing around the room, disciplining the demon dog's disobedient attempts to wriggle off Him. Again, twice, thrice, till the beast quieted, until not so much as a growl escaped Her gullet, only panting. Still the meat pillar remained, holding Her in place as She submitted to the  mounting.

Grabbing the corded knots of her tail, He fucked like a beast possessed, unrelenting and unstoppable, heavy wet slaps as babe sized balls smacked into monstrous thighs, sprays of perfumed feminine lubricant forced out with each pound. A thick line of light illuminated the bitch's organs from within, a set of squeezing walls rippling about a meaty shaft criss-crossed in writhing veins.

‘Damn Him, damn me! Why does it feel good?! Why can’t I fight it!?’ Her internal struggle came in small squeals, hiccuped barks, actual speech illuding Her now She was back in her true form, reduced once more to a four-legged feral dog. And She was, that knowledge sank in with every thrust, every smack, every clap of bollocks to Her split thighs. The voice of nature, long denied, rose with the unwelcome pleasures, and spiked with the fear of pain; ‘Because we want it.’

Her body, her instincts, her own inner demons, danced with every pummelling of her cunt, every squelch of the sheath flattening her spade. Her heart, her head, they may have been screaming in fright, but the rest of her was shouting for something else entirely. All the great hell dog could do was take it, her inner animal growing stronger than her pride. ‘Survive’, it screamed, ‘Submit and survive,’ all as her folds stretched to admit the biggest cock she had ever known. No lover she had ever taken could have prepared her for Him. The Barbarian found her every weak spots, and beat them into submission, striking nerves like a hammer on an anvil, sparking thrills and torment in equal measure.

His rutting grew faster, His titanic testes churned harder, the snorts of steaming breath more frequent. The odd word slipped through His madness to torture her; “Good Bitch”, “Stay dog,”, “Made for it.” And she couldn’t deny half of it, it was a fire stronger than any inferno, a passion stronger than any rage, and it crushed such feeble notions of civility, of grandeur, of destiny, to dust with each clash of flare on her cervix.

“Get.”

‘Huff.’

“On.”

‘Slam!’

“My.”

‘Smack!’

“COCK!”

With a final bellow, the gates of her womb were breached. Her spade collapsed to admit the broad girth of the sheath, and the siege weapon invaded her final passage, and bulged twice as fat!

She shut all four eyes, knowing what was coming, that her life was in His hands, that her future was at His mercy. ‘Survive and submit,’ the voice urged, ‘accept it, He's strong, He's powerful, He deserves to take it.’

The bull tossed His horns and bellowed, the flame inside Him reached its peak. His grip tightened, the base of his shaft bulked, and the whole of his mass pressed down. Hot, scalding seed surged up the long path of His cock, boiling through the tunnel that lead to His bitch's depths, bloating the thick vein from sac to flare, tapping at her cervix in a final warning, before breaking that too in His road of conquest. One, two, three pumps, and Her belly began to distend, swelling beneath her from the endless flow of white lava, near doubling, till she looked to have three whole litters of pups already.

She howled, the Queen despairing, her inner bitch elating. Unable to resist the dominant male breeding her raw, her ovaries capitulated in seconds, releasing a bounty for her conqueror in hopes He'd spare her after He was done.

But he was not done.

He had her again against the wall. He had her bouncing in His arms. Had her belly up and whining. Had her muzzle, her cunt, her arse, every which way He pleased, till the voice of the ruler of hell was silent, and all that remained with the loyal, tamed, broken, bitch. The only sounds her mouth could make, whimpers, moans, and delighted barks, as the queen of hell was fucked, literally, out of the hellhound’s mind, leaving only satisfied flesh, soaked fur, and a well bred bitch.

Without her demonic will to hold it, the door slid open, allowing the voyeur who'd been listening and pleasuring herself to the sounds for the last hour see what had become of the woman who had once threatened the world.

Asta stared in awe. Vast swathes of the throne room were caked in steaming cum, the floor was a ruined mess of cracked stone, torn carpets, and viscous slicks. The air was thick with the stench of sex, the musk of mating, the ripe scent of a potent Man fresh from a long, hard, fuck. She gulped, woozy from the scene alone, as her eyes traced the devastation from the entrance to the throne. There He sat, the architect of it all, the seat of power filled with His frame as He reclined, coated in sweat, prick hanging out, slack for now. His hooves rested on the back of a massive beast, an unconscious canine with its tongue flopping out, and an oozing tide slipping from its holes. Only the hound’s twitching claws as she kicked in her coma betrayed she still lived.

"Girl," He grunted, voice calm once more, the fire cooled for now with the intensity of the battle and breeding.

"Balls."

The white mouse had no protest left, her mind barely comprehending the lay before her, leaving her unchecked desire to be what answered, finally overcoming her hesitation, as a burst of repressed orgasm leaked down her leggings.

"Yes, sir~."

***

... Thus was the Hellbitch conquered, and the hordes of hell defeated. The Horned King took His place upon the throne, and claimed the lands that had fallen to chaos as His own. And all were grateful to Him, and for His protection, submitted themselves to Him willingly.

Lords bent their knees, and sent tribute of daughters, wives, slaves, to ensure He would have no need to take them, for none doubted that He could, and would, should they dare resist.

New settlements were founded, as the old soon became crowded, His many young replenishing those lost to the demons in the years before. So began our golden age of prosperity, the land replenished, and repopulated. But who knows how long this time will last, before He goes in search of conquests new.

***

The white mouse set down her quill with a sigh, exhausted, leaning into the thick fur at her back. Her third brood was her largest, and their constant kicking was tiring her. All about the throne room, the royal concubines lounged, three dozen women in various stages of pregnancy, and that was just that day's rotation from the King’s ever growing collection.

From elsewhere in the palace could be heard the clopping of many small hooves, as the royal heirs followed in their Father's footsteps, sparing, playing, rutting their own first prizes, the King’s blood strong in all of them.

With a grunt, the shaggy beast at Asta’s kicked a hind leg until she was comfortable again. The massive bitch had not said a word, nor changed back since the day she had been bested, every trace of her aspirations bred out of her, leaving her content to be a hellhound once more, lounging about her master's domain, and brewing his pups.

Hellbitch was content, Hellbitch was happy, she had a good home, a good master, good puppies, and a good cock to keep her satisfied. Hellbitch didn’t need anything else, not anymore.

Not after, He, had tamed her.", "pools_count": 2, "title": "The Barbarian Chapter Five: His Prize", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "3", "views": "153" }