Always eager to see comments, so please leave one if the mood strikes you.
Enjoy.",
"writing": "[b][u][center]Soulbound Wagers\nChapter 4\nFor Damiekinz\nBy Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThings were different now. As the wolf servants darted back and forth across the throne room, Asmund could feel the eyes of the Overthane digging into him. He liked the intensity, the seriousness. It was far better than the mocking smirk he’d endured so far, and he would happily push Targir further to keep it that way. \n\nAfter all, what was a fight if the enemy refused to take you seriously?\n\nHe shook his head, crossing his arms. Even the fact that he was naked in front of the courtiers didn’t bother him much. If anything, he felt all the more powerful since he was the one that was showing off his masculinity, particularly after the forced speech that Targir had made. After all, [i]he[/i] wasn’t the one that had blown his load all over the floor from someone shoving a finger up their ass and making a speech about how his own species was so pathetic compared to another. \n\nHumiliation. It was a keen pleasure. \n\nIn the middle of the chamber, the servants set up a table, one just big enough for two people and the game board for the final challenge. Asmund watched them bring the pieces out, setting them on the hexagonal board and preparing for the players. \n\nOlem-Ra was an old game, but Asmund knew the basics. It wasn’t dissimilar from the newer game of ‘chess,’ but there was more strategy involved, more different pieces, and the pieces functioned much more as units than individuals. There were no heroic pieces in Olem-Ra, only clusters that one moved about a hexagonal board. \n\nIt was possible to win in two ways: one could either remove the enemy’s leader, or one could remove all their other pieces from the board. Once that happened, the game was over. Being a hexagonal board, there was often more in the way of flight and pursuit, leaving ambushes that the other player would stumble into that could strip down their numbers or equalize things after a bad start. There was much more to take into account, and far more of the study of war involved. \n\nThe servants cleared out, and he realized that it was time. \n\nTargir sat on one side of the table, and Asmund sat on the other. The polar bear chuckled as he scooted his chair forward. \n\n“I accept the game,” Asmund said. \n\n“You have to. That, or you would have to leave.”\n\n“And I ain’t leaving.”\n\n“Good. I no longer wish you to.” \n\nOh, this was serious, indeed. The wolf’s muzzle was drawn down in a frown. Not just neutrality, but a genuine frown of barely restrained fury. Maybe this would go even easier than he thought; an angry opponent was far easier to beat than someone that wasn’t blinded by rage. \n\nThen again, he only knew that because he’d been blinded by rage more than a few times. He shook his head. \n\n“Then let’s put down a few rules.”\n\n“Are you scared to fight fairly?” Targir asked. \n\n“I sure as fuck know that you’re not going to play fair without rules to stop you,” Asmund said, chuckling. “So, you gonna take the rules I set down?”\n\n“…Name them.”\n\n“First off, no buzzing. No using the nipple rings to screw with my head.”\n\n“Fine.”\n\n“And no using the nose-ring to ram smells up my nose. No smells, no scent-play, nothing. And no using your servants to distract me, either.”\n\n“Agreed,” the wolf growled. \n\n“And whatever the hell the cock ring and the tail ring do, you can’t use them. No using any of them.”\n\n“Is that everything?”\n\n“All the shit that I can think of.”\n\n“Then agreed.”\n\nHe couldn’t tell if Targir was upset or satisfied with the conditions. The silver wolf’s tells were gone, replaced with this stone-cold face of anger and focus. There was something else going on, and some part of him worried that he’d missed something. \n\nBut the time for stipulations were past. If he was going to do this, he needed to make his Wager now. The other male looked like he was ready to finally go through with it. \n\n“I want your soul. That’s my Wager.”\n\n“And I want the same.”\n\nAnd so it was. Asmund and Targir arched their backs at the table, and the polar bear groaned at the familiar feeling of the binding magic settling across his shoulders. He’d felt this so many times that it no longer felt strange, but it was just as powerful as past bets. Whoever lost this Wager would lose their entire being to the other male. They would be helpless but to obey any command that the other one gave, and all the Soulbound that the other had under them would be transferred over. It was the ultimate sort of bet, and one that few were willing to make. \n\nHe felt no small pleasure in knowing he’d driven Targir to this point. The Overthane wanted his humiliation for what he’d done. The fact that a ‘brute’, a Warlord like him, could drive a merchant-lord to such a loss of civility was quite the achievement. \n\n“You first,” Targir muttered, gesturing to the board. “I still have some manners, unlike you.”\n\n“Heh, your loss.”\n\nThe game began. They each had forty pieces on a board with nearly three hundred tiles. It would take over a dozen moves before any of their pieces could reach the other, but that meant that they had time to build up strategies, study the other, figure out how they were going to play.\n\nAsmund did the same thing that he had done with Diamonds and Daggers. He went on the offense, pushing ten of his pieces forward as raiding scouts. The rest of his pieces were held back, moving slower in a larger cluster, waiting to strike when he found an opening. Targir, on the other hand, was playing slower, stretching his lines out in a crescent along the border of the board, almost like he was afraid to let there be any space where Asmund could get his pieces behind his lines. \n\nA defensive style. Not great, considering that the board’s end formed a wall that allowed no retreat, but it was a way of keeping flanking maneuvers from happening. \n\nThey played in silence, the soft clicks of their pieces moving on the board the only sound to be heard. Asmund kept his mouth shut as he studied how the wolf moved, how he played, how he fought. Taunting was pointless now; he needed all his attention on – \n\nA shimmering tingle ran up his cock, going from the base to the tip. It was like an invisible set of fingers caressing his shaft, not quite squeezing, but delicately playing with his cock and giving it a little bit of pleasure. \n\nHe sat up straighter as another faint pressure grabbed him by the ass. Ghostly hands squeezed his rump, and thumbs that were just barely solid enough to sense slid between the cheeks and – \n\n“You cheater!” he roared. \n\n“Nothing of the sort,” Targir muttered, his voice was clipped as the soft click of another piece moved on the board. “Your conditions involved the individual capabilities of the pieces that I put on you. There were no conditions about the combined capabilities of the entire set. Surely, you know how a set can build on itself the more pieces that are present.”\n\n“You…You’re breaking –”\n\n“If I was breaking it, the Wager would be over already.” Targir crossed his arms over his chest. “And you would be the winner. The Wager is still going; the rules are not broken. And if you throw a punch…”\n\n“Rrrrr…”\n\n“Do it, if you dare. Do it, and lose everything without even trying to salvage the game. Show me, and my court, that you are nothing but a fat-assed brute that deserves nothing of what he’s gained.”\n\nAsmund clenched his fists, shaking his head. So much for getting a fair game. \n\nHe looked down at the board as the hands continued to tease and stroke and pull at him. One hand was rolling his balls like a lover would have done while sucking him off, while another pair of hands had settled fully on his cheeks. He couldn’t see anything – not that he was looking – but he could imagine how it must have seemed to everyone else. Ghostly touches, pulling, teasing, kneading against his rump, slowly pulling the cheeks apart where they hung off the back of the seat before – \n\nSmack. \n\nThey clapped together again, and his face burned as he thought of how loud that sound was. He shook his head, trying to focus on his next move. \n\n[i]Can’t break here. Can’t break now. Can’t lose after all this…[/i]\n\nHe moved another piece, losing some of the aggression and being more cautious with the raiding points on the board. Couldn’t overextend, couldn’t push too hard when he could barely think – \n\n“One.”\n\nThe end of the crescent that Targir had formed swooped in, capturing two of the five pieces in the raiding point. Asmund was forced to pull the other three back to avoid losing all of them, and cursed under his breath. He should have seen that; he should have made a move to attack part of the thin line and stop that attack from happening, but it was too late now. \n\nAnd the hands were getting more persistent. He could feel invisible fingers running along his pecs, tracing the lines of his muscles, pressing under them almost like he might have done with a female’s breasts. The pressure of the fingers were light, at first, but then they began to grow more firm, groping at him, squeezing his muscles and making him more and more aware of his pecs, his nipples, the rings – \n\n“Mmmph!”\n\nThey tugged, making him feel the weight and the tension on his nipples. Had they ever gone soft since the piercing? He honestly didn’t know at this point, and he was starting to think that they hadn’t. Possibly, they never would again. \n\n[i]Focus…focus…[/i]\n\nHe kept his hand from shaking as he made his next move, dragging pieces across the board in response to his loss and the new moves from Targir. More pieces, the long line splitting into two swarms that moved toward his raiding parties. He’d have to save one and sacrifice the other, hopefully turning the tide by overwhelming one of the lines before the other finished eating his raiders. \n\nHis hand shook as one ghostly hand cupped the head of his cock, almost like it was collecting pre-cum and rubbing it in a polishing motion right around the head. Squeeze, stroke, squeeze, stroke. He huffed through clenched teeth, his fingers twitching – \n\n[i]Sacrifice the little one.[/i]\n\nHe moved his pieces to reinforce the larger raiding party. Too late, he realized that he’d made a mistake; the three pieces of the smaller party would be taken too quickly. \n\nThe hands kept pushing him, driving him further and further up the wall of desperation as he tried to keep up with Targir’s strategies. Each step was something that he should have been able to recover from, but he couldn’t think straight. \n\nTargir swallowed up the smaller raiding party, all while another hand slipped between his cheeks and rubbed ghostly fingers against the bear’s asshole. They never slid in, but the gentle rubbing, the teasing, the stroking right over his rim was enough to send shivers up and down his spine. It made him feel…it made him feel like a submissive, a bottom, a thing waiting to receive a cock back there – \n\n“Mmmph…mmmph…”\n\n“You are losing, Warlord,” Targir muttered, moving another piece. “Though the question is whether you’re losing the game or losing your mind.”\n\n“Hmmph…”\n\n“Your move.”\n\nThe tremors up and down his arm wouldn’t stop. Hands, all over him, stroking his cock now, jerking him off, pulling and stroking his balls, all but fingering his ass. More on his chest, his arms, his neck and chin. Some were even down at his feet, stroking between his toes and rubbing along the padded soles. So much stimulation, so much pleasure, so much humiliation as he dripped under the table from everything that they were doing to him. \n\n[i]Focus![/i]\n\nHe dropped a piece. It clattered off to the side, and Targir picked it up. The wolf set it down on the board, only to take it on the next move. \n\n“Twenty.”\n\nTwenty. Had he lost half his pieces already? Asmund stared at the board through bleary eyes, trying to count up the different ones remaining. It was hard, because [i]he[/i] was hard. Hard and dripping and throbbing, the tip of his cock almost brushing against the bottom of the table from how needy he was. \n\nHe could have cum right then and there. He should have gotten himself off while fingering the damn wolf during the speech, because then he wouldn’t be so on-edge. Holding back had been a terrible mistake, because now – \n\nThrob. \n\nThrob. \n\nThrob. \n\nHis cock was begging for the attention of the ghost hands, and they were giving him everything that he could have wanted. Stroking, teasing, pulling at the head of his cock, teasing his balls, rubbing his asshole and – \n\n“Nnngh!”\n\nThe ghost hands spread his cheeks and then spread his hole. He could [i]feel[/i] the slight puff of cold air touching his insides; even though it took a great amount of pressure to spread him open even a little bit, the touch of it was enough to make him drop another piece. \n\n“Twenty-one.”\n\nHe was losing. \n\nNo. \n\nHe was [i]going[/i] to lose. \n\nThere was no denying it; he’d lost more than half his pieces, and Targir had only lost three. No more than that. Not nearly enough to turn it around. Not when he couldn’t fucking think. \n\n“Damn…you…”\n\n“You damned yourself.”\n\n“Nnngh…”\n\n“Your move.”\n\nThe humiliation lasted for another eight torturous moves. Each time he moved a piece, he lost it to a move he should have seen coming. Each time that he lost a piece, the hands got more aggressive, almost like they were feeding on his loss. \n\nAnd yet, they never let him go over the edge. They were teasing, edging, frictionless and as pleasurable as could be. They were invisible, surely only there in his mind, and yet, he could see the ruffles in his fur as they passed over him, trace the lines that they left along his chest and his ass and – \n\n“Mmmph…”\n\nHe swore that they were using his sweat as lube, rubbing it into his pucker, teasing his hole with every droplet that ran down his back or across his cheeks. He felt wet back there, like his lovers [i]looked[/i] after he used them, and the fingers kept spreading that wetness around. He could feel the jiggle every time that the ghost hands lifted his ass cheeks and let them drop, and – \n\nAnd he could feel the eyes of the court on him, too. Staring, smirking, seeing him for what Targir was turning him into. A bitch, a toy, a thing – \n\n“And that’s the game.”\n\nAsmund stared, panting and almost drooling as Targir swept in and took his king-piece. It fell over, and he felt the game end. With it, the Wager was done. \n\nHe tried to leap to his feet, wanting to throw one last punch for what the wolf had taken from him, but it was too late. The Wager seized his soul, and Asmund froze in place. His eyes went wide, his mouth sealed shut, and he felt [i]everything[/i] change. \n\nFor the first time, he understood what he had done to everyone else when he made them Soulbound. Everything in him shifted. All his desires, his wants, his ambitions, were gone. They flickered out of existence, replaced with a simple focal point: Targir. Everything else slowly came back to life, like candles that had been blown out and were slowly burning once more, but they were no longer the burning, guiding lights of his life. They were separate, below the wolf. \n\nAs he struggled to understand what he could do, the Overthane stepped back from the table. Muttering to one of the servants to fetch him a collar, he turned back to the bear, his eyes unwavering.\n\n“Stand.”\n\nAsmund had no choice. His body leaped to obey, just as it had done for the other Wagers, but this time, it was from a simple order. His cheeks burned, and they burned worse when the wolf tapped his foot and the ghost hands stopped. \n\n“Let’s make one thing very clear from the outset of our new relationship, bear. Yes, bear; you are not a Warlord, not anymore.”\n\n“You –”\n\n“Silence.”\n\nAsmund’s jaws clicked shut. He could not speak, could not even open his muzzle. He grunted, but the sound was muted, silenced more than just a closed mouth would explain. \n\n“In a moment, I’ll let you talk. Hell, I’ll command you to talk, because I plan on making you do the same damn thing you did to me. But before that, I want you to understand this. \n\n“From now on, I own you. I have never taken someone like you, never had a Soulbound that had managed to embarrass me like you did. So, I feel that you deserve a special treatment. You are going to be put through the wringer under me, and I’m going to see how long it takes to [i]break[/i] someone like you.\n\n“And it should be quite enjoyable. After all, I have total control of your body. Soft.”\n\nThe word was enough to force the bear’s cock to go from completely hard to completely soft. It was like the very life went out of his shaft, like someone had pulled a support rod out from under a heavy weight. He looked down as his dark shaft drooped, falling flat over his balls in the space of a second. \n\n“Hard.”\n\nAnd with just one word, it flicked right back up, slapping against his belly. The sudden stiffness drew a grunt of forced arousal out of him, and he shivered as he understood that every function of his body was now under the direct control of the Overthane. \n\nThe servant came back, dangling a collar from his fingers. Targir took it and walked around the table, flicking it open. Despite every bone in his body telling him to run, to pull his head back, to do something to resist, Asmund couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there as the band was pulled around his neck and tightened until it was snug. \n\n[i]It’s happening. This…this is actually happening.[/i]\n\n“Now…everyone.”\n\nTargir turned to the wolf attendants and courtiers, and Asmund felt the blood rush to his face in raw humiliation. Everything that the Overthane had been forced to say to his people – he would be pushed to do the same. \n\n“Our new Soulbound has an apology speech to make. After all, what he made me say could hardly be true, considering that I have won, correct?”\n\n“…Correct,” Asmund said, his mouth moving against his will. \n\n“You are released from Silence. Speak. Tell everyone how slutty bears actually are, and show them how inferior you are to wolves. And – oh, let’s make this more enjoyable. Show off that pillow-butt of yours.”\n\nAsmund didn’t even get the chance to [i]try[/i] and resist. No sooner had Targir finished his instruction than the command settled over him, and he turned with a forced smile toward the assembled wolves. He laughed, slapping his ass with one big hand. \n\n“Heh, look at me. You think that I could have ever beaten the Overthane? Look at me. Look at my big, fat ass. Look at the way that it jiggles every time that someone touches it.”\n\nAsmund could hardly believe the words were coming out of his mouth as his body turned around, showing off his ass to the crowd. His own hands moved back, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them. He could even feel the wiggles and jiggles that he threw into it, almost like he was flaunting just how much heft and bounce there was on top of all the muscles that he had built up over the course of his life. \n\n“Look at that. Look at how I just bounce. Look at how soft my ass is. All bears are just like this.”\n\n[i]Fuck…fuck…[/i]\n\n“All the bears I know are just begging for it. Hell, we keep getting into fights, right? You know why that is?”\n\n“Why?” one of the courtiers shouted. \n\n“Because we’re all big fat-ass butt-sluts. We want to lose! We need to lose, so we can get the plowing we deserve.”\n\nEvery word out of his mouth was getting a laugh from the wolf court, but more than that, it burned through his soul and left him shivering inside. He couldn’t believe what he was saying, and more, he couldn’t believe that he still had a hard-on while he was saying it. It was forced – he kept telling himself that, it was forced – but the feeling of the throbbing shaft between his legs, throbbing and dripping more with each word that left his mouth, was impossible to ignore. \n\n“Mmm, I’m looking forward to my new master pounding my place into me. I’ll tell you, every polar bear showing off his strength is just putting on an act. All of us are just built for fucking. Look at me. Look at my ass.”\n\nAsmund’s pride fell out of him as he dropped his ass, bouncing up and down and [i]shaking[/i] it like some camp follower desperate for a mate for the night. He could feel every eye on him, every single gaze locked onto his bouncing rump. \n\nUp. \n\nDown. \n\nUp. \n\nDown. \n\nHe couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop shaking his ass. He moaned as he reached back, slapping it, fondling it, only pausing to spread the cheeks and show off everything between. His balls hung low, and his hole…\n\nMmmph. He could feel it squeezing, clenching on nothing, and he pushed his ass back against his hands, his fingers sinking into his plush cheeks as he showed off the pucker between. \n\n“Mmm, and look at that. Look how obvious it is. We’re not pink, but dark. Dark and desperate. Look at how much it’s clenching. This is just one more reason we’re less than you wolves. Oh, you might be desperate sometimes, but we put you to shame. All polar bears have fatter asses than wolves, and hungrier holes. We need to be put in our place. Please, come and conquer me and mine. Come and show us where we belong: in bed, our asses up, our cheeks spread, our holes gaping from wolf knots.”\n\nThe crowd cheered, laughing and crying from the display that he was putting on. Outside, Asmund was grinning with them; inside, he was all but screaming for it to stop, his face burning and his body…\n\nHis body was fighting him, enjoying it, but it was just because he was told to be hard, to enjoy it, right? That was the only reason he was dripping with need, showing off with a hard-on, and – \n\n“Alright, I suppose that’s enough,” Targir said. \n\nAnd just like that, the compulsion to keep shaking his ass ended. Asmund gasped for breath as he stood up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to turn around and strike his new…\n\nHis eyes went wide as he realized that he had been about to think the word ‘owner.’ His face burned all the hotter. \n\n“Come with me,” Targir said. \n\nFor all that the silver wolf had been the one humiliated first, he seemed to have no embarrassment walking naked through his palace. He had yet to put his robes of state back on, and he showed no signs of stopping for them as he led the way through the palace corridors. \n\n“From now on, you will wear nothing but what I give you. If I decide that you’re going to be naked for the day, then you’re going to be naked. If I decide that you’re going to wear a costume that shows off that lovely rump of yours, then you’ll wear it. If I decide to make you wear a harem dancer’s dress, then you [i]will[/i] wear it. Get used to being on display; that body of yours belongs to me now, and I plan to show it off at every opportunity,” Targir said. \n\nAs they walked through the palace, destination unknown, they passed a number of other wolves. Some of them were like the courtiers and bodyguards, but others were clearly part of the Overthane’s harem. They ranged from topless to completely naked, and all of them had at least the nipple piercings, if not the nose-ring that he had been given. \n\n[i]He’s been planning this from the start,[/i] Asmund thought. [i]He wanted to break me down like them. Fucking…fuck.[/i]\n\n“In addition,” Targir continued. “These are some standing orders for you. No bringing harm to me, ever. The Soulbound thing should keep that from happening, anyway, but let’s make it official. Second, you will never work against me unless you are sure that working with me will bring me harm. Third, you will never seek to reach climax or orgasm without my permission, nor will you tease yourself without command. After all, your orgasm belongs to me, and it’s not like I’m going to let property waste itself.”\n\n“Rrrrr…”\n\n“That said, you have permission to talk about whatever you want. After all, if it gets annoying, I’ll tell you to shut up, but part of the fun is to see just how long you last.”\n\nTargir paused at a large wooden door, looking over his shoulder. \n\n“Like I said, I haven’t had someone like you before. You may be…valuable.”\n\n“You have my soul. Not like I can run away.”\n\n“Oh, I have more than your soul. Remember the rules of Soulbound Wagers?”\n\n“…”\n\n“Look out the window, bear.”\n\nThe silver wolf gestured to a window a few paces from where they were standing. Asmund didn’t want to look, but he was forced to take the three steps toward it and peer through the opening. \n\nWalking through the snow and ice toward the front gates were two dozen familiar faces. They were all naked, but they moved as if they were untouched by the snow. Polar bears, mostly, but there were some few that were of other species that he had taken, including the wolf Underthane that he had enjoyed in the courtyard. They moved forward with a spellbound gait, their eyes glowing pink with the power of the Wager. \n\nThey were his Soulbound, but because he had been taken, their souls had been twisted around, transferred over to the wolf behind him. Now, Targir had his wives, his sluts, his Soulbound toys, and they were devoted to him, instead. \n\n“You…There aren’t words for what you’ve done.”\n\n“No worse than what you would have done to me, if you’d won. You’re just angry that you lost.”\n\n“Wouldn’t you be?”\n\n“Oh, yes. That’s why I refuse to lose. Now, come.”\n\nOnce more, he had no choice. He returned to the Overthane at the door and stepped through. \n\nThe room on the other side was filled with cloth, with silk and fine gems and golden jewelry. A fire in the corner fed a small forge, and a loom and sewing materials were laid out on the other side of the chamber. A smaller male, a white-furred fox that was of middle age, looked up as Targir entered the room. \n\n“What’s this, Overthane?” the fox asked. \n\n“A new one, though perhaps more interesting than some of the others,” Targir said, nodding over his shoulder at the polar bear. “I want you to make sure that he’s properly outfitted for his new role as a slave.”\n\n“Heh, he’s a biggun, isn’t he?”\n\n“Quite. Feel free to expand the budget for his outfitting; I want him particularly well-exposed, well-displayed. Make sure that he gets the usual equipment elsewhere, too. Oh, and don’t touch the rings on him; I want to be able to use their effects whenever I want, so just work around those.”\n\n“As you say, Overthane.”\n\n“I’ll be back to collect you later, bear,” Targir said. “Now, obey anything and everything that my tailor demands of you.” \n\n“Mmmph…And if I don’t?”\n\n“Well, you don’t have a choice, do you?”\n\nHe didn’t. Being Soulbound, he couldn’t fight back against any command. There was the vague chance that, maybe, he might be able to reinterpret an order, but just like the Wagers took the intent of a bet into consideration with what they forced the loser to do, this new power that Targir had over him meant that he couldn’t just reinterpret a command and follow it. It carried the spirit of the order rather than just the letter. \n\nThe silver wolf walked out of the small chamber, leaving him facing the fox. The smaller male leaned in, groped at his balls, flicked his cock lightly, and rubbed his ass. \n\n“Heh. Oh, you’re gonna look good by the time I’m done. Let’s get your measurements, and I’ll get started…”\n\n#\n\nIt was a full outfit, and one that he never would have touched otherwise. Cobalt-blue, his new ‘uniform’ ran from his shoulders down to his thighs, but it was as sheer as could be. His nipple piercings, his cock, his ass, everything was as visible as could be. All it did was tint his body blue and run patterns of chains and hands along his body, making him look more bound up and chained than before. \n\nWorse, he was marked with more slave bands. Anklets, toe-rings, and bracelets – all made of gold – had been slid into place and tapped with some sort of magical hammer. They shimmered at the impact and tightened, not cruelly, but enough to make him feel their grip at all times. When he took a step, the toe-rings clicked against the floor, a reminder with every step that he had been claimed and marked by someone else. \n\nThe fox took great pleasure in applying them, as well. He seemed to grin every time that Asmund had to stand on one foot and submit his legs for the shackling and the ringing, and he stroked the bear’s feet with a lust that was completely undisguised. \n\nIf he had been free, he would have shown the fox his place. As it stood, all he could do was grumble. \n\nWhen the Overthane returned, the wolf grinned. He looked Asmund up and down, and he took his time to take in everything. Even when Asmund stood up a little straighter, trying to remind Targir of who was actually bigger, stronger, more powerful, it felt more like he was putting on a show than anything else. \n\n“Well…you are going to be a wonderful partner tonight…”\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]\n\nSummary: The last of the Wagers, and the consequences. \n\nTags: M/solo, M/M, Humiliation, Ghost Hands, Body Control, Extreme Humiliation, Speciesism, Fondling, Spanking, Twerking, Polar Bear, Wolf, Harem, Slave, ",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Soulbound Wagers Chapter 4 For Damiekinz By Draconicon
Things were different now. As the wolf servants darted back and forth across the throne room, Asmund could feel the eyes of the Overthane digging into him. He liked the intensity, the seriousness. It was far better than the mocking smirk he’d endured so far, and he would happily push Targir further to keep it that way.
After all, what was a fight if the enemy refused to take you seriously?
He shook his head, crossing his arms. Even the fact that he was naked in front of the courtiers didn’t bother him much. If anything, he felt all the more powerful since he was the one that was showing off his masculinity, particularly after the forced speech that Targir had made. After all, he wasn’t the one that had blown his load all over the floor from someone shoving a finger up their ass and making a speech about how his own species was so pathetic compared to another.
Humiliation. It was a keen pleasure.
In the middle of the chamber, the servants set up a table, one just big enough for two people and the game board for the final challenge. Asmund watched them bring the pieces out, setting them on the hexagonal board and preparing for the players.
Olem-Ra was an old game, but Asmund knew the basics. It wasn’t dissimilar from the newer game of ‘chess,’ but there was more strategy involved, more different pieces, and the pieces functioned much more as units than individuals. There were no heroic pieces in Olem-Ra, only clusters that one moved about a hexagonal board.
It was possible to win in two ways: one could either remove the enemy’s leader, or one could remove all their other pieces from the board. Once that happened, the game was over. Being a hexagonal board, there was often more in the way of flight and pursuit, leaving ambushes that the other player would stumble into that could strip down their numbers or equalize things after a bad start. There was much more to take into account, and far more of the study of war involved.
The servants cleared out, and he realized that it was time.
Targir sat on one side of the table, and Asmund sat on the other. The polar bear chuckled as he scooted his chair forward.
“I accept the game,” Asmund said.
“You have to. That, or you would have to leave.”
“And I ain’t leaving.”
“Good. I no longer wish you to.”
Oh, this was serious, indeed. The wolf’s muzzle was drawn down in a frown. Not just neutrality, but a genuine frown of barely restrained fury. Maybe this would go even easier than he thought; an angry opponent was far easier to beat than someone that wasn’t blinded by rage.
Then again, he only knew that because he’d been blinded by rage more than a few times. He shook his head.
“Then let’s put down a few rules.”
“Are you scared to fight fairly?” Targir asked.
“I sure as fuck know that you’re not going to play fair without rules to stop you,” Asmund said, chuckling. “So, you gonna take the rules I set down?”
“…Name them.”
“First off, no buzzing. No using the nipple rings to screw with my head.”
“Fine.”
“And no using the nose-ring to ram smells up my nose. No smells, no scent-play, nothing. And no using your servants to distract me, either.”
“Agreed,” the wolf growled.
“And whatever the hell the cock ring and the tail ring do, you can’t use them. No using any of them.”
“Is that everything?”
“All the shit that I can think of.”
“Then agreed.”
He couldn’t tell if Targir was upset or satisfied with the conditions. The silver wolf’s tells were gone, replaced with this stone-cold face of anger and focus. There was something else going on, and some part of him worried that he’d missed something.
But the time for stipulations were past. If he was going to do this, he needed to make his Wager now. The other male looked like he was ready to finally go through with it.
“I want your soul. That’s my Wager.”
“And I want the same.”
And so it was. Asmund and Targir arched their backs at the table, and the polar bear groaned at the familiar feeling of the binding magic settling across his shoulders. He’d felt this so many times that it no longer felt strange, but it was just as powerful as past bets. Whoever lost this Wager would lose their entire being to the other male. They would be helpless but to obey any command that the other one gave, and all the Soulbound that the other had under them would be transferred over. It was the ultimate sort of bet, and one that few were willing to make.
He felt no small pleasure in knowing he’d driven Targir to this point. The Overthane wanted his humiliation for what he’d done. The fact that a ‘brute’, a Warlord like him, could drive a merchant-lord to such a loss of civility was quite the achievement.
“You first,” Targir muttered, gesturing to the board. “I still have some manners, unlike you.”
“Heh, your loss.”
The game began. They each had forty pieces on a board with nearly three hundred tiles. It would take over a dozen moves before any of their pieces could reach the other, but that meant that they had time to build up strategies, study the other, figure out how they were going to play.
Asmund did the same thing that he had done with Diamonds and Daggers. He went on the offense, pushing ten of his pieces forward as raiding scouts. The rest of his pieces were held back, moving slower in a larger cluster, waiting to strike when he found an opening. Targir, on the other hand, was playing slower, stretching his lines out in a crescent along the border of the board, almost like he was afraid to let there be any space where Asmund could get his pieces behind his lines.
A defensive style. Not great, considering that the board’s end formed a wall that allowed no retreat, but it was a way of keeping flanking maneuvers from happening.
They played in silence, the soft clicks of their pieces moving on the board the only sound to be heard. Asmund kept his mouth shut as he studied how the wolf moved, how he played, how he fought. Taunting was pointless now; he needed all his attention on –
A shimmering tingle ran up his cock, going from the base to the tip. It was like an invisible set of fingers caressing his shaft, not quite squeezing, but delicately playing with his cock and giving it a little bit of pleasure.
He sat up straighter as another faint pressure grabbed him by the ass. Ghostly hands squeezed his rump, and thumbs that were just barely solid enough to sense slid between the cheeks and –
“You cheater!” he roared.
“Nothing of the sort,” Targir muttered, his voice was clipped as the soft click of another piece moved on the board. “Your conditions involved the individual capabilities of the pieces that I put on you. There were no conditions about the combined capabilities of the entire set. Surely, you know how a set can build on itself the more pieces that are present.”
“You…You’re breaking –”
“If I was breaking it, the Wager would be over already.” Targir crossed his arms over his chest. “And you would be the winner. The Wager is still going; the rules are not broken. And if you throw a punch…”
“Rrrrr…”
“Do it, if you dare. Do it, and lose everything without even trying to salvage the game. Show me, and my court, that you are nothing but a fat-assed brute that deserves nothing of what he’s gained.”
Asmund clenched his fists, shaking his head. So much for getting a fair game.
He looked down at the board as the hands continued to tease and stroke and pull at him. One hand was rolling his balls like a lover would have done while sucking him off, while another pair of hands had settled fully on his cheeks. He couldn’t see anything – not that he was looking – but he could imagine how it must have seemed to everyone else. Ghostly touches, pulling, teasing, kneading against his rump, slowly pulling the cheeks apart where they hung off the back of the seat before –
Smack.
They clapped together again, and his face burned as he thought of how loud that sound was. He shook his head, trying to focus on his next move.
Can’t break here. Can’t break now. Can’t lose after all this…
He moved another piece, losing some of the aggression and being more cautious with the raiding points on the board. Couldn’t overextend, couldn’t push too hard when he could barely think –
“One.”
The end of the crescent that Targir had formed swooped in, capturing two of the five pieces in the raiding point. Asmund was forced to pull the other three back to avoid losing all of them, and cursed under his breath. He should have seen that; he should have made a move to attack part of the thin line and stop that attack from happening, but it was too late now.
And the hands were getting more persistent. He could feel invisible fingers running along his pecs, tracing the lines of his muscles, pressing under them almost like he might have done with a female’s breasts. The pressure of the fingers were light, at first, but then they began to grow more firm, groping at him, squeezing his muscles and making him more and more aware of his pecs, his nipples, the rings –
“Mmmph!”
They tugged, making him feel the weight and the tension on his nipples. Had they ever gone soft since the piercing? He honestly didn’t know at this point, and he was starting to think that they hadn’t. Possibly, they never would again.
Focus…focus…
He kept his hand from shaking as he made his next move, dragging pieces across the board in response to his loss and the new moves from Targir. More pieces, the long line splitting into two swarms that moved toward his raiding parties. He’d have to save one and sacrifice the other, hopefully turning the tide by overwhelming one of the lines before the other finished eating his raiders.
His hand shook as one ghostly hand cupped the head of his cock, almost like it was collecting pre-cum and rubbing it in a polishing motion right around the head. Squeeze, stroke, squeeze, stroke. He huffed through clenched teeth, his fingers twitching –
Sacrifice the little one.
He moved his pieces to reinforce the larger raiding party. Too late, he realized that he’d made a mistake; the three pieces of the smaller party would be taken too quickly.
The hands kept pushing him, driving him further and further up the wall of desperation as he tried to keep up with Targir’s strategies. Each step was something that he should have been able to recover from, but he couldn’t think straight.
Targir swallowed up the smaller raiding party, all while another hand slipped between his cheeks and rubbed ghostly fingers against the bear’s asshole. They never slid in, but the gentle rubbing, the teasing, the stroking right over his rim was enough to send shivers up and down his spine. It made him feel…it made him feel like a submissive, a bottom, a thing waiting to receive a cock back there –
“Mmmph…mmmph…”
“You are losing, Warlord,” Targir muttered, moving another piece. “Though the question is whether you’re losing the game or losing your mind.”
“Hmmph…”
“Your move.”
The tremors up and down his arm wouldn’t stop. Hands, all over him, stroking his cock now, jerking him off, pulling and stroking his balls, all but fingering his ass. More on his chest, his arms, his neck and chin. Some were even down at his feet, stroking between his toes and rubbing along the padded soles. So much stimulation, so much pleasure, so much humiliation as he dripped under the table from everything that they were doing to him.
Focus!
He dropped a piece. It clattered off to the side, and Targir picked it up. The wolf set it down on the board, only to take it on the next move.
“Twenty.”
Twenty. Had he lost half his pieces already? Asmund stared at the board through bleary eyes, trying to count up the different ones remaining. It was hard, because he was hard. Hard and dripping and throbbing, the tip of his cock almost brushing against the bottom of the table from how needy he was.
He could have cum right then and there. He should have gotten himself off while fingering the damn wolf during the speech, because then he wouldn’t be so on-edge. Holding back had been a terrible mistake, because now –
Throb.
Throb.
Throb.
His cock was begging for the attention of the ghost hands, and they were giving him everything that he could have wanted. Stroking, teasing, pulling at the head of his cock, teasing his balls, rubbing his asshole and –
“Nnngh!”
The ghost hands spread his cheeks and then spread his hole. He could feel the slight puff of cold air touching his insides; even though it took a great amount of pressure to spread him open even a little bit, the touch of it was enough to make him drop another piece.
“Twenty-one.”
He was losing.
No.
He was going to lose.
There was no denying it; he’d lost more than half his pieces, and Targir had only lost three. No more than that. Not nearly enough to turn it around. Not when he couldn’t fucking think.
“Damn…you…”
“You damned yourself.”
“Nnngh…”
“Your move.”
The humiliation lasted for another eight torturous moves. Each time he moved a piece, he lost it to a move he should have seen coming. Each time that he lost a piece, the hands got more aggressive, almost like they were feeding on his loss.
And yet, they never let him go over the edge. They were teasing, edging, frictionless and as pleasurable as could be. They were invisible, surely only there in his mind, and yet, he could see the ruffles in his fur as they passed over him, trace the lines that they left along his chest and his ass and –
“Mmmph…”
He swore that they were using his sweat as lube, rubbing it into his pucker, teasing his hole with every droplet that ran down his back or across his cheeks. He felt wet back there, like his lovers looked after he used them, and the fingers kept spreading that wetness around. He could feel the jiggle every time that the ghost hands lifted his ass cheeks and let them drop, and –
And he could feel the eyes of the court on him, too. Staring, smirking, seeing him for what Targir was turning him into. A bitch, a toy, a thing –
“And that’s the game.”
Asmund stared, panting and almost drooling as Targir swept in and took his king-piece. It fell over, and he felt the game end. With it, the Wager was done.
He tried to leap to his feet, wanting to throw one last punch for what the wolf had taken from him, but it was too late. The Wager seized his soul, and Asmund froze in place. His eyes went wide, his mouth sealed shut, and he felt everything change.
For the first time, he understood what he had done to everyone else when he made them Soulbound. Everything in him shifted. All his desires, his wants, his ambitions, were gone. They flickered out of existence, replaced with a simple focal point: Targir. Everything else slowly came back to life, like candles that had been blown out and were slowly burning once more, but they were no longer the burning, guiding lights of his life. They were separate, below the wolf.
As he struggled to understand what he could do, the Overthane stepped back from the table. Muttering to one of the servants to fetch him a collar, he turned back to the bear, his eyes unwavering.
“Stand.”
Asmund had no choice. His body leaped to obey, just as it had done for the other Wagers, but this time, it was from a simple order. His cheeks burned, and they burned worse when the wolf tapped his foot and the ghost hands stopped.
“Let’s make one thing very clear from the outset of our new relationship, bear. Yes, bear; you are not a Warlord, not anymore.”
“You –”
“Silence.”
Asmund’s jaws clicked shut. He could not speak, could not even open his muzzle. He grunted, but the sound was muted, silenced more than just a closed mouth would explain.
“In a moment, I’ll let you talk. Hell, I’ll command you to talk, because I plan on making you do the same damn thing you did to me. But before that, I want you to understand this.
“From now on, I own you. I have never taken someone like you, never had a Soulbound that had managed to embarrass me like you did. So, I feel that you deserve a special treatment. You are going to be put through the wringer under me, and I’m going to see how long it takes to break someone like you.
“And it should be quite enjoyable. After all, I have total control of your body. Soft.”
The word was enough to force the bear’s cock to go from completely hard to completely soft. It was like the very life went out of his shaft, like someone had pulled a support rod out from under a heavy weight. He looked down as his dark shaft drooped, falling flat over his balls in the space of a second.
“Hard.”
And with just one word, it flicked right back up, slapping against his belly. The sudden stiffness drew a grunt of forced arousal out of him, and he shivered as he understood that every function of his body was now under the direct control of the Overthane.
The servant came back, dangling a collar from his fingers. Targir took it and walked around the table, flicking it open. Despite every bone in his body telling him to run, to pull his head back, to do something to resist, Asmund couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there as the band was pulled around his neck and tightened until it was snug.
It’s happening. This…this is actually happening.
“Now…everyone.”
Targir turned to the wolf attendants and courtiers, and Asmund felt the blood rush to his face in raw humiliation. Everything that the Overthane had been forced to say to his people – he would be pushed to do the same.
“Our new Soulbound has an apology speech to make. After all, what he made me say could hardly be true, considering that I have won, correct?”
“…Correct,” Asmund said, his mouth moving against his will.
“You are released from Silence. Speak. Tell everyone how slutty bears actually are, and show them how inferior you are to wolves. And – oh, let’s make this more enjoyable. Show off that pillow-butt of yours.”
Asmund didn’t even get the chance to try and resist. No sooner had Targir finished his instruction than the command settled over him, and he turned with a forced smile toward the assembled wolves. He laughed, slapping his ass with one big hand.
“Heh, look at me. You think that I could have ever beaten the Overthane? Look at me. Look at my big, fat ass. Look at the way that it jiggles every time that someone touches it.”
Asmund could hardly believe the words were coming out of his mouth as his body turned around, showing off his ass to the crowd. His own hands moved back, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them. He could even feel the wiggles and jiggles that he threw into it, almost like he was flaunting just how much heft and bounce there was on top of all the muscles that he had built up over the course of his life.
“Look at that. Look at how I just bounce. Look at how soft my ass is. All bears are just like this.”
Fuck…fuck…
“All the bears I know are just begging for it. Hell, we keep getting into fights, right? You know why that is?”
“Why?” one of the courtiers shouted.
“Because we’re all big fat-ass butt-sluts. We want to lose! We need to lose, so we can get the plowing we deserve.”
Every word out of his mouth was getting a laugh from the wolf court, but more than that, it burned through his soul and left him shivering inside. He couldn’t believe what he was saying, and more, he couldn’t believe that he still had a hard-on while he was saying it. It was forced – he kept telling himself that, it was forced – but the feeling of the throbbing shaft between his legs, throbbing and dripping more with each word that left his mouth, was impossible to ignore.
“Mmm, I’m looking forward to my new master pounding my place into me. I’ll tell you, every polar bear showing off his strength is just putting on an act. All of us are just built for fucking. Look at me. Look at my ass.”
Asmund’s pride fell out of him as he dropped his ass, bouncing up and down and shaking it like some camp follower desperate for a mate for the night. He could feel every eye on him, every single gaze locked onto his bouncing rump.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
He couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop shaking his ass. He moaned as he reached back, slapping it, fondling it, only pausing to spread the cheeks and show off everything between. His balls hung low, and his hole…
Mmmph. He could feel it squeezing, clenching on nothing, and he pushed his ass back against his hands, his fingers sinking into his plush cheeks as he showed off the pucker between.
“Mmm, and look at that. Look how obvious it is. We’re not pink, but dark. Dark and desperate. Look at how much it’s clenching. This is just one more reason we’re less than you wolves. Oh, you might be desperate sometimes, but we put you to shame. All polar bears have fatter asses than wolves, and hungrier holes. We need to be put in our place. Please, come and conquer me and mine. Come and show us where we belong: in bed, our asses up, our cheeks spread, our holes gaping from wolf knots.”
The crowd cheered, laughing and crying from the display that he was putting on. Outside, Asmund was grinning with them; inside, he was all but screaming for it to stop, his face burning and his body…
His body was fighting him, enjoying it, but it was just because he was told to be hard, to enjoy it, right? That was the only reason he was dripping with need, showing off with a hard-on, and –
“Alright, I suppose that’s enough,” Targir said.
And just like that, the compulsion to keep shaking his ass ended. Asmund gasped for breath as he stood up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to turn around and strike his new…
His eyes went wide as he realized that he had been about to think the word ‘owner.’ His face burned all the hotter.
“Come with me,” Targir said.
For all that the silver wolf had been the one humiliated first, he seemed to have no embarrassment walking naked through his palace. He had yet to put his robes of state back on, and he showed no signs of stopping for them as he led the way through the palace corridors.
“From now on, you will wear nothing but what I give you. If I decide that you’re going to be naked for the day, then you’re going to be naked. If I decide that you’re going to wear a costume that shows off that lovely rump of yours, then you’ll wear it. If I decide to make you wear a harem dancer’s dress, then you will wear it. Get used to being on display; that body of yours belongs to me now, and I plan to show it off at every opportunity,” Targir said.
As they walked through the palace, destination unknown, they passed a number of other wolves. Some of them were like the courtiers and bodyguards, but others were clearly part of the Overthane’s harem. They ranged from topless to completely naked, and all of them had at least the nipple piercings, if not the nose-ring that he had been given.
He’s been planning this from the start, Asmund thought. He wanted to break me down like them. Fucking…fuck.
“In addition,” Targir continued. “These are some standing orders for you. No bringing harm to me, ever. The Soulbound thing should keep that from happening, anyway, but let’s make it official. Second, you will never work against me unless you are sure that working with me will bring me harm. Third, you will never seek to reach climax or orgasm without my permission, nor will you tease yourself without command. After all, your orgasm belongs to me, and it’s not like I’m going to let property waste itself.”
“Rrrrr…”
“That said, you have permission to talk about whatever you want. After all, if it gets annoying, I’ll tell you to shut up, but part of the fun is to see just how long you last.”
Targir paused at a large wooden door, looking over his shoulder.
“Like I said, I haven’t had someone like you before. You may be…valuable.”
“You have my soul. Not like I can run away.”
“Oh, I have more than your soul. Remember the rules of Soulbound Wagers?”
“…”
“Look out the window, bear.”
The silver wolf gestured to a window a few paces from where they were standing. Asmund didn’t want to look, but he was forced to take the three steps toward it and peer through the opening.
Walking through the snow and ice toward the front gates were two dozen familiar faces. They were all naked, but they moved as if they were untouched by the snow. Polar bears, mostly, but there were some few that were of other species that he had taken, including the wolf Underthane that he had enjoyed in the courtyard. They moved forward with a spellbound gait, their eyes glowing pink with the power of the Wager.
They were his Soulbound, but because he had been taken, their souls had been twisted around, transferred over to the wolf behind him. Now, Targir had his wives, his sluts, his Soulbound toys, and they were devoted to him, instead.
“You…There aren’t words for what you’ve done.”
“No worse than what you would have done to me, if you’d won. You’re just angry that you lost.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Oh, yes. That’s why I refuse to lose. Now, come.”
Once more, he had no choice. He returned to the Overthane at the door and stepped through.
The room on the other side was filled with cloth, with silk and fine gems and golden jewelry. A fire in the corner fed a small forge, and a loom and sewing materials were laid out on the other side of the chamber. A smaller male, a white-furred fox that was of middle age, looked up as Targir entered the room.
“What’s this, Overthane?” the fox asked.
“A new one, though perhaps more interesting than some of the others,” Targir said, nodding over his shoulder at the polar bear. “I want you to make sure that he’s properly outfitted for his new role as a slave.”
“Heh, he’s a biggun, isn’t he?”
“Quite. Feel free to expand the budget for his outfitting; I want him particularly well-exposed, well-displayed. Make sure that he gets the usual equipment elsewhere, too. Oh, and don’t touch the rings on him; I want to be able to use their effects whenever I want, so just work around those.”
“As you say, Overthane.”
“I’ll be back to collect you later, bear,” Targir said. “Now, obey anything and everything that my tailor demands of you.”
“Mmmph…And if I don’t?”
“Well, you don’t have a choice, do you?”
He didn’t. Being Soulbound, he couldn’t fight back against any command. There was the vague chance that, maybe, he might be able to reinterpret an order, but just like the Wagers took the intent of a bet into consideration with what they forced the loser to do, this new power that Targir had over him meant that he couldn’t just reinterpret a command and follow it. It carried the spirit of the order rather than just the letter.
The silver wolf walked out of the small chamber, leaving him facing the fox. The smaller male leaned in, groped at his balls, flicked his cock lightly, and rubbed his ass.
“Heh. Oh, you’re gonna look good by the time I’m done. Let’s get your measurements, and I’ll get started…”
#
It was a full outfit, and one that he never would have touched otherwise. Cobalt-blue, his new ‘uniform’ ran from his shoulders down to his thighs, but it was as sheer as could be. His nipple piercings, his cock, his ass, everything was as visible as could be. All it did was tint his body blue and run patterns of chains and hands along his body, making him look more bound up and chained than before.
Worse, he was marked with more slave bands. Anklets, toe-rings, and bracelets – all made of gold – had been slid into place and tapped with some sort of magical hammer. They shimmered at the impact and tightened, not cruelly, but enough to make him feel their grip at all times. When he took a step, the toe-rings clicked against the floor, a reminder with every step that he had been claimed and marked by someone else.
The fox took great pleasure in applying them, as well. He seemed to grin every time that Asmund had to stand on one foot and submit his legs for the shackling and the ringing, and he stroked the bear’s feet with a lust that was completely undisguised.
If he had been free, he would have shown the fox his place. As it stood, all he could do was grumble.
When the Overthane returned, the wolf grinned. He looked Asmund up and down, and he took his time to take in everything. Even when Asmund stood up a little straighter, trying to remind Targir of who was actually bigger, stronger, more powerful, it felt more like he was putting on a show than anything else.
“Well…you are going to be a wonderful partner tonight…”
The End
Summary: The last of the Wagers, and the consequences.