Pop music mixed with the hollering of stallions, creating a cacophony of cheers and jeers that Cleo learned to ignore as a slave. The lioness had many positions at the brothel. Stripper, whore, three holes that walked, but none of them were more clear than her lot in the country itself. She was a slave, a third-class citizen who would be chased in public for not wearing a collar. Only in the establishment of her madame’s brothel could she walk freely without it. Though by the glances of guests, she might as well keep it on. Lions like her ruled where she came from. At the time she was free, Cleo did not consider how she treated others different from her. It was simply natural for them to be beneath her claws. Perhaps that was what led to her downfall, where strangers in the night kidnapped her, subjected her to harsh training, and sold her off to a land of equines. Here, horses ruled, and lions were prized property. Not as trophies to be cleaned, stored, and looked at, but as recipients of old grudges. Where even the lowest donkey could feel power knowing they dominated a lion. Her features made her a catch. Red eyes and dark fur with black hair she’d bunned up behind her head. A unique lioness for clients, one that her madame at least made expensive. Some nights all Cleo had to do was dance at her stripper pole. Tonight she was not so lucky. “It’s a bachelor party,” the brothel madame said. The donkey woman was twenty years her senior. Having entered the trade willingly as a citizen she could retire as she pleased and opened her own brothel. On the surface, she carried a cruel aura empowered by her leather corset and stockings, a look that gave her no shortage of personal clients begging for the whip. Beneath that was someone caring enough to ensure the gold collar didn’t pinch Cleo as she locked it around her neck. “Six in total. They have you for the night.” “Of course, Mistress.” Cleo nodded, knowing it best not to complain of the night ahead. “How long will I have to rest after this group?” “I got a request for you tomorrow, but I convinced them to try the next week.” The madame latched matching golden cuffs to Cleo’s wrists and ankles. They weren’t real gold, merely an illusion to help bring out her darker fur. “But I will need your presence with Mr. Rocks in two days. He specifically wanted a lion of your fur color to be there for his session.” Cleo nodded. It wasn’t the first time she acted as an assistant to the madame’s domination sessions, nor the last. The older donkey cupped her face as she latched a leash to the girl’s collar. “They paid for a good night, my dear. Give them a great one.” There was a faint sadness in her voice. Her owner had been through too many nights herself to sweeten the blows. Cleo stopped caring about it long ago, though her heart still leaped at the tug of her leash. Though not connected by chains she kept her hands clasped close as she dutifully followed the madame. Eyes down to watch anywhere from the hooves to the big bum swaying side to side. The mare stopped by the last door down the hall, knocking three times before being allowed inside. Cigar smoke and cologne plagued her nose. Cleo snuck a glance up before her owner spoke. Five stallions and a male zebra filled the room, lounging over the two leather couches save for the center seat where the zebra sat. He smiled with hunger upon seeing Cleo. Her spine tensed in response. “As requested, gentlemen,” The madame pulled Cleo forward, “Our personal queen for your pleasure. Do note that my property is not to be exceptionally harmed, not unless you wish to receive a bill for damages.” “Name?” The zebra’s cigar rolled across his mouth after he spoke. “Her name is–” “Not you,” he snapped, taking a deep breath of smoke. He exhaled a cloud over her mistress. “You,” he said, pointing to Cleo, “What’s your name?” Cleo straightened herself and gulped, “Cleo, sir.” He smiled, taking another long whiff as he shooed her mistress away. Cleo stood still, letting her loose leash hang as the stallions circled her like wolves. “Ritzy,” said one, tapping her gold-colored collar. “Think she can take us?” Asked another, hand on her ass and squeezing. “If not, she’s gonna. There ain’t a whore in this country unable to take horsecock.” “Enough,” The zebra’s voice carried the weight of a shout. “Cleo, come to me. On your knees.” He beckoned. Fighting the urge to bite her lip the dark-furred lioness slowly fell to her hands and knees, crawling until she was between the zebra’s khakis. There she saw his cock starting to strain against the black pants. “Don’t be shy now. Unzip me and worship it.” Her hands shivered. Cleo had serviced hundreds of clients yet something about the zebra’s tone made her small. Insignificant. Plenty of clients enjoyed humiliating her but she swore he had menace in his eyes. The sight of his cock was a blessing. The black flat-headed shaft was as thick as her arm and long enough to blot out his gaze. It pulsed against her paws, warm to the touch and growing harder with her pumping. “Your ancestors probably hunted mine,” he said, just as she pressed her nose against his shaft. The zebra’s hearty musk danced in her nostrils, mixing with the taste on her tongue once she licked him. Better to service clients than listen to what they have to say. Her madame taught her as much. “Doubtful that it’s one-to-one, lots of lions out there as there are plenty of zebras. But my ancestors did spend a significant time being enslaved by you so-called kings. We were good for labor in a land lacking feral beasts of burden. Degrading work that robbed us of everything we had. I bet you know what that’s like being a whore in the service of stallions.” She knew it all too well but stayed silent, putting her mouth to better use at servicing his rod. Training made her capable of taking the beast into her maw, every agonizing inch sinking into the lion’s gullet. As she went down Cleo looked up to the zebra. He sneered down at her, one hand holding his cigar whilst the other held her leash. “Impressive,” He kept her leash taut. “Ever choke on horsecock? It’d be a shameful way to go.” Lungs burned. She endured. Her nose braced the base of his cock, forcing him to shift his seating so she could fit it all inside. He held her there. Ten seconds. Thirty. By a minute her body started to struggle in place, hands clenching in a desperate attempt to avoid pulling off. The others chuckled behind her, with the flare of a smartphone camera clicking out of the corner of her eye. “Get off it.” He ordered. Ropes of saliva formed and broke as she pulled off. Coughing up phlegm, the lioness barely registered the rod as he bobbed it across her face. “Tell me you loved it, whore.” “I…loved it, sir.” Her words were raspy, as were the sudden grunts as several hands hoisted her up and spread her legs. The zebra stood tall and lined the flat head of his dark cock against her pink pussy. “I’m gonna miss this.” He said, standing still as his entourage swayed Cleo forward. She clenched her teeth to stifle herself. No matter how much she’d been trained or how loose she’d become, the flat head of a horse cock put the worst pressure upon entry. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the filled feeling of comfort was slow to arrive. “Maybe after the honeymoon, I can convince my wife to purchase a lion bitch? Something to share between us.” “Better a pussy eats pussy.” One of the stallions laughed. Cleo didn’t know which, having thrown her head back as the cock penetrated her. She suspected that whoever spoke was fondling her tits. Thick fingers prodding and pinching her nipples. Hips hit hers as the stallions rocked her into him. Like a pendulum. Steady and slow, the zebra enjoyed himself inside her as Cleo fell victim to the bondage of sturdy arms. Free hands trailed over her body without care. They scratched, poked, prodded, and grabbed. Thick and muscular limbs wrapped her legs tight to keep her from kicking off out of reflex. The zebra filled her with a teeth-clenched grunt, slamming his entire shaft down to bruise her cervix. Her mouth opened to howl in silence, toes clenching through each of the spasms until he pulled out. “Ok, you guys have fun with her. Just don’t tire her out completely.” Suddenly she was on the table with a new stallion at her crotch. Her next breath became a cry as his cock slid into the freshly filled pussy. Another saw his moment and seized it, burying his cock down her open maw to fuck her in unison with his friend. Heavy balls slammed her face. Cleo mewled under the ramming rod stretching her throat out, the urge to expel growing and quaking with the bitter pleasure of his friend’s thrusts below. Seed blasted down her gullet, trailing up her throat for one final blast over her face. She hacked out spite mixed with sperm, the salty taste pooling at the roof of her mouth. Another cock entered before she could breathe. Each stallion had his way with her. One pulled her from the table to her knees, demanding she suck him off like the zebra. Another pressed his dick against her face as she worked his friend, demanding she work both at once. Somewhere along the way her hands pumped another cock, then two at the same time as they laughed over her. Slut, whore, proper lion, and all manner of insults were thrown in her direction. Cleo accepted them all with a trained smile, feigning her eagerness to catch strand after strand of rocketing seed into her open maw, her tongue out and curled to watch whatever droplets were left. By taste, she could tell that none of them had a pineapple in their diet. Like most clients who ran on enthusiasm, laziness made them demand she pick up slack. One stallion commanded her to ride his cock where he sat, acting no more than a pole for her pussy to impale itself on. Seed dripped from her cunt over his shaft as she sank into it, mixing with the six stallion creampie she’d been cooking. Another grabbed her cumstained headfur as she sank, pulling tight to make her scream so he could silence her with his fat veiny cock. “Bro, your balls are in my face.” The stallion argued. “It ain’t like you cared last night.” A wild chorus of laughter erupted from the rest of the stallions, including the zebra who stood behind her. Preoccupied as she was, Cleo shivered at the stripped hands spreading her back cheeks and prying her ass open. “And now the main course.” The zebra’s final warning before burying into her ass. Cleo stopped. Her legs burned and tears swelled. She’d trained her ass to take clients, but it and her pussy filled together was too much. The client didn’t care, pulling her off his friend’s cock with a yank from her frizzy bun and holding her there like an anchor as his cock dug deep. “You love horsecock, don’t you?” The zebra cackled. Cleo nodded, repeating his declaration through tearful eyes and a fake smile. Even in the twisted feeling of pain, she derived sick pleasure that clutched her heart and squeezed. “That’s right. Sing that song.” She knew the lyrics but stammered them through the zebra’s thrusts. At least his friend stayed still and the one fucking her face opted to just pump himself before her, prepping his load. At the mark of the chorus, they all sang over her. “‘Cause there’s no cock like horse cock! Sending your asshole to shock!” All laughing with glee as she suffered under them. Time blurred on. She hadn’t realized everything ended until the madame had her clutched against her chest, wiping away the remnants of each man staining their hair. Cleo clutched her tight, burying her face into the mare’s breasts as the rush died down. “You’re a good girl, Cleo. You gave them the best bachelor party they could ask for.” The madame’s praise meant more than her reasoning. She wished the embrace would never end, and held it until it inevitably would.