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"writing": "[b][u][center]Soulbound Wagers\nChapter 9\nFor Damiekinz\nBy Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe days dragged on, and the humiliation of his cuckolding continued to mount. Mundus came and went, and each time, Asmund was forced to watch as Yngvi was used to the same harsh extent as any of his other slaves and sluts and harem. And yet, with Yngvi, it was worse, because Yngvi had always been treated as someone soft, delicate, treasured by him. Asmund had always done his best to shelter the smaller polar bear from the world, and he had thought that it had been the right decision. \n\nAnd then Mundus came along, using him more brutally than any of the other bears had done, and Yngvi not only whimpered for it, but begged for more. The last time that Asmund had seen the pair, they didn’t even acknowledge him. Yngvi barely spared him a glance, more concerned with the knotted dick buried in his ass than anything else in the world. \n\nAsmund wanted to hate Mundus for that, but the fact that his cock continued to bob, throb, and swell with the memory meant that hate took second place. The polar bear huffed on the litter of cushions in the throne room, and he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the courtiers looking down at him. They looked down on him now; what little intimidation he had once brought to the court was gone, replaced with either lust or condescension as they saw the once-mighty Warlord brought to his knees again and again, his feet stained with the seed of others, and his ass slowly trained by their Overthane and the other slaves that were given the duty of fucking him and opening his ass up. \n\nThey no longer believed he was a threat. They thought he was broken. And if he didn’t do something, they would be right. \n\nAsmund clenched his hands into fists. The humiliation burned through him the way that a female’s heat once had. The fucking embarrassment had become an aphrodisiac to him, his body responding with a rush of need and want. His hole clenched between his cheeks, and his cock bobbed up and bounced against his belly. \n\nNeed. Helpless need. It had been there ever since his fall; Targir hadn’t allowed him to cum, not once, not since he had been enslaved. And for all that he hated the wolf, for all that he had been trying to hold onto that rage, he…\n\nHe wanted to cum. \n\nThat urge twisted everything to pleasure as he laid there. Whether it was the judging, smirking eyes of the court, the commands of the silver wolf, or anything else that was thrown his way, Asmund knew that his body was taking it and enjoying it in a way that it never normally would. \n\nHe wanted to cum. \n\nHis body took what it was given and tried to cum. \n\nWhen it failed, and it always failed, it tried to take what it could from the new situation and make it sexy instead of horrifying. And that meant that everything turned into a new fetish, whether it was being cuckolded, being exposed, or being made to use his feet and ass on anyone that came up and offered the Overthane the right price. \n\n[i]I’m a fool,[/i] Asmund thought, staring at the inside of his eyelids. [i]I’m a fucking fool…[/i]\n\nFirst, for thinking that he could endure whatever Targir put him through. He knew how being Soulbound worked; he knew that the body could be ordered to do things that the mind couldn’t stop. He should have known from the start that the conniving wolf would have more plans than just telling him to follow orders. \n\nSecond, for thinking that someone would be able to rescue him. He should have been pushing from the start, looking for some way to take control of his life and get out. Even if Targir dragged him back, at least he would have been doing something and reminding himself that he was a free bear. Instead, he’d just stayed in the palace, followed orders, and trained himself to obey. \n\nNo more. \n\nNo. Fucking. More. \n\nHe opened his eyes. Another wolf had come forward, one of the Underthanes that were petitioning Targir once more. The wolf looked at him, smirking, and gestured at the polar bear’s ringed toes. The familiar gesture almost had him rolling over and lifting his feet for use, but something in him stopped himself before he could do it. \n\n[i]No. More.[/i]\n\n“Hmmm? Bear, what are you doing?”\n\n“I’m fucking done,” Asmund muttered under his breath. \n\n“Hmm? I’m sorry, I think you –”\n\n“I said I’m [i]fucking[/i] done!” the polar bear roared, and his words echoed around the room as every other member of the court fell silent. “I’m fucking done following your orders, acting like a slut, acting like I like all of this. You want them to see me like this? Then let them all know that you just fucking ordered it around. I don’t love it, I don’t believe this is where I belong, and I sure as [i]fuck[/i] don’t plan to make it easy for you anymore.\n\n“So go ahead. Go ahead and fucking order me to say some shit that tells them that I love being a slave. Tell me to tell them that I deserve to be here. But you better fucking make it a good one, because you know what? You never told me to shut up and lie; you never told me to hold back. So here I am, not holding back.\n\n“You want to believe I enjoy this? Then try and believe that when I’m telling you right here, right now, that he forced every last fucking thing on me, and –”\n\n“Silence!”\n\nTargir had finally found his voice, and the bear’s jaws slammed shut. The quiet descended on the throne room with alacrity, and to his relief, none of the usual jeering commentary started again. Even the wolf that had been getting ready to get himself off on the bear’s feet took a step back, fear writ clear on his face. \n\n[i]Good,[/i] Asmund thought. [i]Fucking good. No more just…treating me like a thing. No more…[/i]\n\nThrob. Throb. Throb. He ignored the need that thought brought to his dick, and did his best to put the weighted feeling that his balls had had for weeks out of his mind. No more of that. No more of any of that. He could be as horny as he liked, but Targir had been the one to tell him that he wanted the bear to be honest. \n\nWell, honesty had its fucking price. If they wanted the illusion of a trained bear, they should have brought one of his men up rather than him. He was a fucking Warlord. Even chained, even marked, he was still – \n\n“I see that you are not as well-trained as I had hoped you were by now,” Targir muttered, and Asmund leaned back to stare at the silver wolf. “I suppose that is on me. I imagined that, after so long, after so many humiliations, you would have learned there was no way out of this for you.”\n\n“…”\n\n“But if you insist on trying to break the order of the court, then I suppose that there is no other recourse. I will have to break you, here and now.”\n\nAsmund didn’t bother hiding his fury, letting it come through in a glare that he’d suppressed for so long. Oh, there was fear, too, fear that he could not tamp down beneath the fire of rage, but it was not the feeling in charge. It couldn’t be, not when he was feeling this infuriated. Targir turned to one of the courtiers. \n\n“Go to my chambers and fetch the Willbreaker. I suppose that it is time that he is finally put in his place.”\n\n“Rrrrr…”\n\n“A pity, really. Bear, I was hoping to stretch this game out for a few more months, at least, to see how long it took you to shatter into a hundred pieces and be remade. I wanted to take the slow game. But just like with the Wagers, you had to push harder. You had to make it so I couldn’t take my time. You really are no fun.”\n\nAsmund refused to back down. He remained on the pillow bed, yes, and he remained on his back, but he forced the fear down and kept his face as stern and strict as he had ever been. He kept the face of the Warlord. Not the hedonist in the tents, not the cocky warrior that had walked into the throne room that first time, but the face of a Warlord. If he was to be broken, finally, then he would at least go out with some sense of dignity. \n\nAnd yet, in the back of his mind, he wondered. With a name like the Willbreaker, what sort of device was Targir calling for? What would be used to finally shatter him? If it had been held in reserve, then it had to be something potent. \n\nThe throne room remained silent until the courtier returned. He carried something massive, so large that it seemed longer than his forearms and just as thick. Asmund craned his neck to see it – \n\n“Set it before the bear,” Targir commanded. \n\nThe wolf carried it over and set it up on the floor, and Asmund’s eyes widened. \n\nIt was a dildo that was so large that it was both fearful and comedic. The great spire had to be larger than Targir’s cock and even Connor’s, and the knot at the base was thick enough that he knew that it would break any hole, even his. The purple sheen to it made it look both jewel-like and unnatural, and he shivered as he fought the urge to back away from it. \n\n“Alchemist. Apply your potions.”\n\n“Yes, Overthane.”\n\nThe same alchemist that had produced the oils that made it possible for the horse to fuck him stepped forward, but the vials that he pulled from his cloak were not the same as the ones that had been poured over the bear’s ass. They shimmered in oily streaks as they were poured over the shaft, running from the head down to the knot, and then over the bulge down there. He didn’t know what the magic was meant to do, but he could only imagine that it was meant to do something to him. \n\nTo break him. \n\nTo shatter him. \n\nTo punish him. \n\n“Bear. Stand.”\n\nThere was no denying a command, not even when a Soulbound was as furious as he was. With fear slowly scrambling against his rage, Asmund pushed himself to his feet, his legs moving on their own and his arms doing the same. His cock swayed side to side as he did, his balls rolling from where they rested on his thigh to hand down between them again. As they bounced from their own weight, he bit back a grunt. They were like anvils down there, so full, so desperate to be emptied. \n\n“Bear. Face me.”\n\nAsmund moved, feeling the softness in his body that had built up from his lack of exercise. He was not fat, not by any means, but the sheer strength that had once been there as a warrior of the ice was gone. His thick limbs were still broad, but they had a cushion to them that hadn’t been there before. There was more of a wobble to his frame, and his ass…\n\nHe could feel the way that his cheeks swayed, the way that they no longer clenched so tight when he tensed up, the way that they wobbled when he shifted position. He no longer had the ass of a warrior, and the way that it bounced and swayed and rippled finally broke the silence behind him as the court saw it. \n\n“Mmmm, no matter how loud he shouts, his ass speaks louder.”\n\n“Bear-rump. Truly, a choice piece of meat.”\n\n“I can’t wait to see him riding that thing. I bet it’s going to have his cheeks clapping like thunder.”\n\n“The fact that we used to be afraid of these creatures. These days, all I see are sluts when they pass by. Someone should do something about that.”\n\nDo something about that. \n\nDo something about that. \n\nDo something about that. \n\nAsmund fought the mental image of the wolves gathering together to hunt down the other polar bears now that they’d seen what he and his warriors could be. Mundus’s trading had created a valuable commodity in polar bear ass, and now that the world knew that this was a possibility, it was…it was just barely possible…\n\n[i]My people…enslaved. Polar bear ass…as a commodity…[/i]\n\nHis conditioning made him love the idea, his cock jumping at the objectifying humiliation. His pride, barely surviving, clamped down on that as he growled to himself. \n\n“Bear. I gave you the chance to break slowly. I’ll give you credit, you deceived me; I thought you were much further along your path to true slavery than you were, and that is purely on me. I should have been more focused on training you rather than just enjoying your fall from your former position.\n\n“But that ends today. You probably think that you can withstand whatever the dildo will do to your ass. And perhaps another day, you might be right. You have been fucked by a horse, and by wolves, and you have even undergone knot-fucking, getting used to the feeling of something large popping in and out of your ass. But this is the Willbreaker, and there are two things that I know you haven’t anticipated. \n\n“First, that oil will ensure that you get as much pleasure from the Willbreaker as possible. There will be no pain, there will be no agony. There will only be pleasure as the oil soaks your insides and makes you feel every spark of bliss that a bottom [i]should[/i] feel when they put their rump to use.”\n\nAsmund gritted his teeth. He had guessed the oil would be used for something like that. It wasn’t just taking away the pain, but enhancing the pleasure. But – \n\n“Second, I release you from chastity.”\n\nAsmund’s eyes went wide. \n\n“Oh, do not mistake me. You are not allowed to touch your cock. That thing is never going to be touched again, except to tease you. But you will be allowed to cum from your ass.”\n\nHe stared, his heart thudding against the inside of his ribs. \n\n“Ride it, bear. Ride it.”\n\nHis body turned on its own, marching him towards his doom. Each step felt almost mechanical, implacable, until he stood with the dildo between his legs and the tip pointing up toward his cheeks. \n\n“Face me while you do.”\n\nHe turned again. Ass toward the court, his toe-rings clicking against the floor. The anklets around his legs might as well have been shackles, chaining him in place. He could not step from the spot if he wanted, and his hips twitched, slowly lowering him down. Asmund huffed and shivered, fear trying to take hold and make him beg for mercy – \n\n[i]Can’t. I have to be quiet. I can’t talk. I can’t talk![/i]\n\nHis hips lowered further, further, and further still until he was squatting over the tip of the dildo. His tail-ring jingled as the little tuft of fur flicked up, and his nipple rings twitched as he arched his back. Even his cock ring felt a little tighter as his dick throbbed in eager anticipation of pleasure. \n\nOrgasm. \n\nRelease. \n\n[i]It’s been months. It’s been months since I came, and now…now…[/i]\n\nNow it was going to happen. It was going to happen all at once. He could feel his hips lining the tip of the toy up with his pucker, felt the tapered, pointed end just barely nudge against the rim, and then – \n\nPlop!\n\nAsmund dropped his hips, taking the whole thing down to the top of the knot in one go. His breath wheezed out of him, his eyes going wide and almost rolling back from the first thrust. His cock jumped, slapping against his belly before squirting the floor with a line of pre-cum that was stronger, harder than anything that had come out of him so far. \n\nA silent wheeze escaped him as he ground his asshole against the top of the knot. Pure pleasure ran through him, reminding him of how good it felt to be filled, how right it was for a bear to use their hole, and – \n\nUp. \n\nHe was rising again. Riding; he had been commanded to ride the toy, not just take the whole thing in. Up, up, up – \n\nPLOP!\n\nThe second fall was louder than the first, and took him down to the knot again. Asmund’s eyes did roll back that time, his hole clenching tight around the girth of the shaft. It had to be thicker than Targir’s knot already, and the knot itself had to be thicker still. His mouth moved silently, repeating ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.’\n\nUp again. All the way up, his hole clenching more around the shaft as his insides craved the pressure of it against his prostate. It was so thick that no matter how he angled himself, he could feel the rigid canine cock pressed against his sensitive bits at all times. Further, further, further, feeling the friction on his rim until – \n\nPLOP!\n\nHe could feel his ass bouncing, dropping, then rippling on its way back up. Each bounce had him basically twerking, his big ass falling and almost hitting the floor as the knot stopped him a few inches away from it. He ground against it again – \n\n[i]Partway in…[/i]\n\nAsmund could feel the whole thing there, could feel the sheer girth of the knot against his hole still, but there was a sense of opening up. A little bit of that knot – maybe a fifth of it – had managed to push a bit further in. He was – he was going to take it, he realized, and – \n\nUp again. \n\nDown again. \n\nUp again. \n\nDown again. \n\nHe was picking up speed, and each time that he bounced down to the bottom of the Willbreaker, he could feel his cock throbbing to a harder and harder erection. There was no pain. There was no discomfort, despite the dildo’s impossible size for him. It was pure pleasure, and he wheezed as he rolled his hips up and down, up and down, squatting and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he slammed it into him again and again until – \n\nPOP!\n\nThe knot finally slammed in. He gasped, his breath all but punched out of his lungs as he took the whole thing, but his hips refused to stop moving. He felt the tugging, the dragging against his rim, before – \n\nPOP!\n\nOut again. \n\nPOP!\n\nIn. \n\nPOP!\n\nOut. \n\nPOP!\n\n“Nnnnngh!”\n\nWithout warning, without anything to give him a chance to brace himself, the knot punched his prostate hard enough to get him off. For the first time in months, for the first time in far too long, Asmund came, and he came hard enough to feel like a fountain as he shot his load over the pillows in front of him. \n\nYet, even as he came, his body kept moving. \n\nUp. \n\nDown. \n\nUp. \n\nDown. \n\nHe struggled off of the knot, but the command wouldn’t let him take a moment to breathe, to take a break, or anything. It was just relentless pushing, making him rise up, making him go all the way to the tip of the Willbreaker before slamming his hips back down. Each time he took the knot, it ground right against his prostate, hammering him with more pleasure, making his cock jump again. \n\nUp. \n\nDown. \n\nUp. \n\nDown. \n\nThe soft ‘smacks’ of the floor hitting his ass when he took the knot didn’t go unnoticed, either. Every time, every [i]fucking[/i] time he took the knot, he heard someone chuckle, someone mutter, someone pointing out how fat his ass was and how good it looked taking knots. And…\n\nAnd it felt good. \n\nToo good. \n\nBefore Asmund realized it, he was on the verge of cumming again. Months without an orgasm, and now two within ten minutes. He tried to slow himself down, tried to hold out as he felt his balls starting to churn and rise with need, but it was impossible. The relentless ride continued, taking him all the way down, then all the way up, then all the way down again, popping that knot again and again and again until – \n\n“NNNGH!”\n\nAnother deep moan, another explosive climax as he blew his load all over the floor. The second rope of cum went further than the first, running across his cushion bed all the way to the base of the stairs leading up to Targir’s throne. Asmund huffed and groaned and moaned, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as the pleasure rushed through his veins. It made his head fuzzy, made his body feel so warm and comfortable, so right with what was happening, and – \n\nPOP!\n\nAgain, rising up. Again, unable to stop. Again, the pleasure rising as the long shaft continued to grind his prostate into oblivion. \n\nTargir chuckled, shaking his head. \n\n“Speak honestly, bear. Are you broken?”\n\n“Nnnngh…n-no,” he said, the words pulled from his lips. \n\n“You will be. Keep riding; I’ll ask again later.”\n\n#\n\nIt was four hours and eight repetitions of the question later when Asmund finally broke. He moaned as he fell onto the knot, then raised himself up again, the popping sounds of hours ago almost muted against the sloppy wet sounds of his own seed rolling down his thighs, the dripping ooze of his pre-cum against his balls, and the wet, sweaty sounds of his ass taking the knot without an issue. \n\n“Are you broken, bear?”\n\n“Yes,” came the telling word. \n\n“Stop.”\n\nAsmund didn’t have a choice; he stopped right at the mid-point of the knot, his hole at the widest stretch that it could possibly get from the Willbreaker. He groaned, even that giving him a faint pleasure, but the relief from the endless orgasms was the greater reward. His balls had shrunk, emptying themselves so many times over the last four hours and almost invisible against his crotch. They were unharmed, but they were drained…drained and empty…\n\nTargir walked over to him, cupping his head. Asmund stared up, unable to do much more than breathe. \n\n“You will speak honestly. You will say nothing but the truth. Your deepest, most powerful feelings. Do you understand?”\n\nThe bear nodded. \n\n“Speak, then. Tell the court who you are.”\n\n“I am…I am Asmund.”\n\n“And who is Asmund?”\n\n“A slave.”\n\n“Does he deserve to be a slave?”\n\n“No, but he is grateful to be a slave,” the polar bear panted, huffing as his hole squeezed and almost squeaked a bit around the knot keeping him open. “Nnngh…wolf-knot is…the best…”\n\n“Good, good. Do you enjoy being fucked?”\n\n“More – more than anything – mmmph. The knot…the knot is the best…Superior wolf-knot…”\n\n“Knot yourself.”\n\nHe sat down, and his cock dribbled a weaker orgasm, spitting a little bit of his seed down the shaft and into the puddle he squatted in. The smears of his own cum ran between his toes and along his soles, and his balls were just barely low enough to sit in his own slime puddle from all his pleasure. \n\n“And where do bears belong?” Targir asked. \n\n“We’re all knot-sluts, inside. All waiting…waiting to be caught…and trained…and reminded where we belong.”\n\n“Good…And what do we say now?”\n\n“I’m sorry,” Asmund wheezed, groaning as he rolled his ass back against the knot, grinding it into him as much as he could. “I’m sorry for pretending to be anything but a slave. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t like it. I’m sorry for pretending to be someone that has freedom. I’m your slave. I’m a slut for wolf-knot and wolf-dick. I need it, I need it…”\n\n“Heh, very good…very, very good…” \n\nThe silver-furred wolf petted him, stroking his head until Asmund finally collapsed. The thickness and heft of the Willbreaker kept him upright, but that was all. The world turned dark, and he lost consciousness. \n\n#\n\n[i]One year later…[/i]\n\n“Mmmph…mmph, thank you master, thank you master!”\n\nAsmund’s moans echoed through the small chamber that had become his permanent residence. He still had the lush bed, but that was all. Slaves didn’t need dressers or bits of furniture. They slept until they were called for, and then, their master gave them what they needed for the moment. And he had a good master. \n\nPOP! POP! POP!\n\nThe knot-fucking had been going for…he didn’t know. Time was a construct. Time didn’t mean anything. Time only mattered when the master said it mattered, and Asmund hadn’t been told how long he needed to do something, so it didn’t matter. He just moaned, his head buried in the bed, his teeth embedded in a pillow as he moaned for more. The popping sound of the knot just reminded him of where he belonged, and what gave him pleasure, purpose, and a point to everything. \n\nHe'd lost track of how many times he’d cum from Master Targir’s knot in his ass, or the number of times that he’d been gaped by that shaft. All he knew was that it was far better to use his ass on a knot than it was to ever use his cock. Fucking was not allowed for bears; they were only allowed to get fucked. \n\nFingers wove through his hair, pulling him back. The long bearded braids that ran down his muzzle were as ringed as his toes and cock now, jangling as he was lifted out of the bed and made to face the other side of the room again. \n\nAnja. \n\nYngvi. \n\nHis former lovers sat together on their own cushions. They were there to watch him get fucked, just as he had been there to watch them get fucked. Yngvi…\n\nHe couldn’t remember if the artisan was on-loan from Mundus or if the other wolf had gotten bored with the smaller bear and given him to Targir. Either way, the round-bottomed bear continued to ride toys while others were getting fucked, and he devoted himself to the study of pleasure the way that others devoted themselves to war and art. He continued to ride, squatting on the balls of his feet as Asmund got railed. \n\nAnja, on the other hand, sat with a disdainful look on her face. She had been a favorite of Targir, but sometime in the last year, Asmund remembered her getting nudged out of the bed. He had taken her place, become more of the silver wolf’s primary lover, and for now, he kept that position. What had started as her cucking him with the wolf had turned into Targir humiliating her with his preference for Asmund’s ass. \n\nPOP! POP! POP!\n\nNot that Asmund could focus on that for long with his master knot-popping his hole so hard. He moaned, his cock on the verge of another orgasm already. His mouth hung open, his beard swaying from side to side as he was rutted from behind. \n\n“You know where you belong now, don’t you bear?” Targir growled in his ear. \n\n“Nnngh…yes…”\n\n“Say it.”\n\n“I belong…belong in your bed…on your knot. I belong to you…as the example…of what bears should be!”\n\n“And what are bears?”\n\n“Bears are knot-sluts. Bears are wolf-bitches. Bears belong…belong to you and the other wolves…as the butt-sluts of the world…”\n\n“Good boy.”\n\nSMACK!\n\nAsmund moaned, tightening up for a moment. It made the knot feel bigger, made the popping sound of each thrust get a little louder and take a little longer, and most of all, made the whole thing feel better. \n\nHe huffed and puffed as he was filled and emptied, filled and emptied. His eyes closed to slits as he fell into total submission. Whatever pride he’d had as a warrior was long forgotten; all that remained was the pride and happiness of being the best slut in the palace, and the first choice of pleasure for the master of the wolves. The fact that he had become the Overthane’s first choice in bed was all that mattered to him. Everything else could be forgotten, because it just didn’t matter anymore. \n\n“Thank you, Master,” he whispered as he was fucked. “Thank you for breaking me…and remaking me…”\n\n“And don’t you forget it.”\n\nDown again. \n\nFace in the pillows. \n\nEyes closed. \n\nThe knot-fucking continued, and Asmund lost himself to the rhythm, rolling his ass back to take it deeper. Again, again, again, each one cementing his position in the world once more. He panted, enjoying each pop, each squelch of the cock sliding into place, and each little bit of warmth as all the wolf’s pre-cum ran down his taint and over his balls. The musky scent, the heat of rut, and the constant pleasure that came from being a good ursine butt-slut washed over him, sinking him further into that happy mind of a slave. \n\nThe Warlord was no longer there. It was no longer needed. Asmund the Butt-Slut, Asmund the Slave. That was who he was now. \n\nAnd he was fine with that. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]\n\nSummary: Asmund’s story comes to an end in this epilogue. \n\nTags: M/M, M/solo, Dildo, Mind-Break, Orgasms, Finally, So Many Orgasms, Butt Slut, Polar Bear, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Cum, Knot, Knot-Fucking, Polar Bear, Speciesism, Wolf, Slavery, ",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Soulbound Wagers Chapter 9 For Damiekinz By Draconicon
The days dragged on, and the humiliation of his cuckolding continued to mount. Mundus came and went, and each time, Asmund was forced to watch as Yngvi was used to the same harsh extent as any of his other slaves and sluts and harem. And yet, with Yngvi, it was worse, because Yngvi had always been treated as someone soft, delicate, treasured by him. Asmund had always done his best to shelter the smaller polar bear from the world, and he had thought that it had been the right decision.
And then Mundus came along, using him more brutally than any of the other bears had done, and Yngvi not only whimpered for it, but begged for more. The last time that Asmund had seen the pair, they didn’t even acknowledge him. Yngvi barely spared him a glance, more concerned with the knotted dick buried in his ass than anything else in the world.
Asmund wanted to hate Mundus for that, but the fact that his cock continued to bob, throb, and swell with the memory meant that hate took second place. The polar bear huffed on the litter of cushions in the throne room, and he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the courtiers looking down at him. They looked down on him now; what little intimidation he had once brought to the court was gone, replaced with either lust or condescension as they saw the once-mighty Warlord brought to his knees again and again, his feet stained with the seed of others, and his ass slowly trained by their Overthane and the other slaves that were given the duty of fucking him and opening his ass up.
They no longer believed he was a threat. They thought he was broken. And if he didn’t do something, they would be right.
Asmund clenched his hands into fists. The humiliation burned through him the way that a female’s heat once had. The fucking embarrassment had become an aphrodisiac to him, his body responding with a rush of need and want. His hole clenched between his cheeks, and his cock bobbed up and bounced against his belly.
Need. Helpless need. It had been there ever since his fall; Targir hadn’t allowed him to cum, not once, not since he had been enslaved. And for all that he hated the wolf, for all that he had been trying to hold onto that rage, he…
He wanted to cum.
That urge twisted everything to pleasure as he laid there. Whether it was the judging, smirking eyes of the court, the commands of the silver wolf, or anything else that was thrown his way, Asmund knew that his body was taking it and enjoying it in a way that it never normally would.
He wanted to cum.
His body took what it was given and tried to cum.
When it failed, and it always failed, it tried to take what it could from the new situation and make it sexy instead of horrifying. And that meant that everything turned into a new fetish, whether it was being cuckolded, being exposed, or being made to use his feet and ass on anyone that came up and offered the Overthane the right price.
I’m a fool, Asmund thought, staring at the inside of his eyelids. I’m a fucking fool…
First, for thinking that he could endure whatever Targir put him through. He knew how being Soulbound worked; he knew that the body could be ordered to do things that the mind couldn’t stop. He should have known from the start that the conniving wolf would have more plans than just telling him to follow orders.
Second, for thinking that someone would be able to rescue him. He should have been pushing from the start, looking for some way to take control of his life and get out. Even if Targir dragged him back, at least he would have been doing something and reminding himself that he was a free bear. Instead, he’d just stayed in the palace, followed orders, and trained himself to obey.
No more.
No. Fucking. More.
He opened his eyes. Another wolf had come forward, one of the Underthanes that were petitioning Targir once more. The wolf looked at him, smirking, and gestured at the polar bear’s ringed toes. The familiar gesture almost had him rolling over and lifting his feet for use, but something in him stopped himself before he could do it.
No. More.
“Hmmm? Bear, what are you doing?”
“I’m fucking done,” Asmund muttered under his breath.
“Hmm? I’m sorry, I think you –”
“I said I’m fucking done!” the polar bear roared, and his words echoed around the room as every other member of the court fell silent. “I’m fucking done following your orders, acting like a slut, acting like I like all of this. You want them to see me like this? Then let them all know that you just fucking ordered it around. I don’t love it, I don’t believe this is where I belong, and I sure as fuck don’t plan to make it easy for you anymore.
“So go ahead. Go ahead and fucking order me to say some shit that tells them that I love being a slave. Tell me to tell them that I deserve to be here. But you better fucking make it a good one, because you know what? You never told me to shut up and lie; you never told me to hold back. So here I am, not holding back.
“You want to believe I enjoy this? Then try and believe that when I’m telling you right here, right now, that he forced every last fucking thing on me, and –”
“Silence!”
Targir had finally found his voice, and the bear’s jaws slammed shut. The quiet descended on the throne room with alacrity, and to his relief, none of the usual jeering commentary started again. Even the wolf that had been getting ready to get himself off on the bear’s feet took a step back, fear writ clear on his face.
Good, Asmund thought. Fucking good. No more just…treating me like a thing. No more…
Throb. Throb. Throb. He ignored the need that thought brought to his dick, and did his best to put the weighted feeling that his balls had had for weeks out of his mind. No more of that. No more of any of that. He could be as horny as he liked, but Targir had been the one to tell him that he wanted the bear to be honest.
Well, honesty had its fucking price. If they wanted the illusion of a trained bear, they should have brought one of his men up rather than him. He was a fucking Warlord. Even chained, even marked, he was still –
“I see that you are not as well-trained as I had hoped you were by now,” Targir muttered, and Asmund leaned back to stare at the silver wolf. “I suppose that is on me. I imagined that, after so long, after so many humiliations, you would have learned there was no way out of this for you.”
“…”
“But if you insist on trying to break the order of the court, then I suppose that there is no other recourse. I will have to break you, here and now.”
Asmund didn’t bother hiding his fury, letting it come through in a glare that he’d suppressed for so long. Oh, there was fear, too, fear that he could not tamp down beneath the fire of rage, but it was not the feeling in charge. It couldn’t be, not when he was feeling this infuriated. Targir turned to one of the courtiers.
“Go to my chambers and fetch the Willbreaker. I suppose that it is time that he is finally put in his place.”
“Rrrrr…”
“A pity, really. Bear, I was hoping to stretch this game out for a few more months, at least, to see how long it took you to shatter into a hundred pieces and be remade. I wanted to take the slow game. But just like with the Wagers, you had to push harder. You had to make it so I couldn’t take my time. You really are no fun.”
Asmund refused to back down. He remained on the pillow bed, yes, and he remained on his back, but he forced the fear down and kept his face as stern and strict as he had ever been. He kept the face of the Warlord. Not the hedonist in the tents, not the cocky warrior that had walked into the throne room that first time, but the face of a Warlord. If he was to be broken, finally, then he would at least go out with some sense of dignity.
And yet, in the back of his mind, he wondered. With a name like the Willbreaker, what sort of device was Targir calling for? What would be used to finally shatter him? If it had been held in reserve, then it had to be something potent.
The throne room remained silent until the courtier returned. He carried something massive, so large that it seemed longer than his forearms and just as thick. Asmund craned his neck to see it –
“Set it before the bear,” Targir commanded.
The wolf carried it over and set it up on the floor, and Asmund’s eyes widened.
It was a dildo that was so large that it was both fearful and comedic. The great spire had to be larger than Targir’s cock and even Connor’s, and the knot at the base was thick enough that he knew that it would break any hole, even his. The purple sheen to it made it look both jewel-like and unnatural, and he shivered as he fought the urge to back away from it.
“Alchemist. Apply your potions.”
“Yes, Overthane.”
The same alchemist that had produced the oils that made it possible for the horse to fuck him stepped forward, but the vials that he pulled from his cloak were not the same as the ones that had been poured over the bear’s ass. They shimmered in oily streaks as they were poured over the shaft, running from the head down to the knot, and then over the bulge down there. He didn’t know what the magic was meant to do, but he could only imagine that it was meant to do something to him.
To break him.
To shatter him.
To punish him.
“Bear. Stand.”
There was no denying a command, not even when a Soulbound was as furious as he was. With fear slowly scrambling against his rage, Asmund pushed himself to his feet, his legs moving on their own and his arms doing the same. His cock swayed side to side as he did, his balls rolling from where they rested on his thigh to hand down between them again. As they bounced from their own weight, he bit back a grunt. They were like anvils down there, so full, so desperate to be emptied.
“Bear. Face me.”
Asmund moved, feeling the softness in his body that had built up from his lack of exercise. He was not fat, not by any means, but the sheer strength that had once been there as a warrior of the ice was gone. His thick limbs were still broad, but they had a cushion to them that hadn’t been there before. There was more of a wobble to his frame, and his ass…
He could feel the way that his cheeks swayed, the way that they no longer clenched so tight when he tensed up, the way that they wobbled when he shifted position. He no longer had the ass of a warrior, and the way that it bounced and swayed and rippled finally broke the silence behind him as the court saw it.
“Mmmm, no matter how loud he shouts, his ass speaks louder.”
“Bear-rump. Truly, a choice piece of meat.”
“I can’t wait to see him riding that thing. I bet it’s going to have his cheeks clapping like thunder.”
“The fact that we used to be afraid of these creatures. These days, all I see are sluts when they pass by. Someone should do something about that.”
Do something about that.
Do something about that.
Do something about that.
Asmund fought the mental image of the wolves gathering together to hunt down the other polar bears now that they’d seen what he and his warriors could be. Mundus’s trading had created a valuable commodity in polar bear ass, and now that the world knew that this was a possibility, it was…it was just barely possible…
My people…enslaved. Polar bear ass…as a commodity…
His conditioning made him love the idea, his cock jumping at the objectifying humiliation. His pride, barely surviving, clamped down on that as he growled to himself.
“Bear. I gave you the chance to break slowly. I’ll give you credit, you deceived me; I thought you were much further along your path to true slavery than you were, and that is purely on me. I should have been more focused on training you rather than just enjoying your fall from your former position.
“But that ends today. You probably think that you can withstand whatever the dildo will do to your ass. And perhaps another day, you might be right. You have been fucked by a horse, and by wolves, and you have even undergone knot-fucking, getting used to the feeling of something large popping in and out of your ass. But this is the Willbreaker, and there are two things that I know you haven’t anticipated.
“First, that oil will ensure that you get as much pleasure from the Willbreaker as possible. There will be no pain, there will be no agony. There will only be pleasure as the oil soaks your insides and makes you feel every spark of bliss that a bottom should feel when they put their rump to use.”
Asmund gritted his teeth. He had guessed the oil would be used for something like that. It wasn’t just taking away the pain, but enhancing the pleasure. But –
“Second, I release you from chastity.”
Asmund’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, do not mistake me. You are not allowed to touch your cock. That thing is never going to be touched again, except to tease you. But you will be allowed to cum from your ass.”
He stared, his heart thudding against the inside of his ribs.
“Ride it, bear. Ride it.”
His body turned on its own, marching him towards his doom. Each step felt almost mechanical, implacable, until he stood with the dildo between his legs and the tip pointing up toward his cheeks.
“Face me while you do.”
He turned again. Ass toward the court, his toe-rings clicking against the floor. The anklets around his legs might as well have been shackles, chaining him in place. He could not step from the spot if he wanted, and his hips twitched, slowly lowering him down. Asmund huffed and shivered, fear trying to take hold and make him beg for mercy –
Can’t. I have to be quiet. I can’t talk. I can’t talk!
His hips lowered further, further, and further still until he was squatting over the tip of the dildo. His tail-ring jingled as the little tuft of fur flicked up, and his nipple rings twitched as he arched his back. Even his cock ring felt a little tighter as his dick throbbed in eager anticipation of pleasure.
Orgasm.
Release.
It’s been months. It’s been months since I came, and now…now…
Now it was going to happen. It was going to happen all at once. He could feel his hips lining the tip of the toy up with his pucker, felt the tapered, pointed end just barely nudge against the rim, and then –
Plop!
Asmund dropped his hips, taking the whole thing down to the top of the knot in one go. His breath wheezed out of him, his eyes going wide and almost rolling back from the first thrust. His cock jumped, slapping against his belly before squirting the floor with a line of pre-cum that was stronger, harder than anything that had come out of him so far.
A silent wheeze escaped him as he ground his asshole against the top of the knot. Pure pleasure ran through him, reminding him of how good it felt to be filled, how right it was for a bear to use their hole, and –
Up.
He was rising again. Riding; he had been commanded to ride the toy, not just take the whole thing in. Up, up, up –
PLOP!
The second fall was louder than the first, and took him down to the knot again. Asmund’s eyes did roll back that time, his hole clenching tight around the girth of the shaft. It had to be thicker than Targir’s knot already, and the knot itself had to be thicker still. His mouth moved silently, repeating ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.’
Up again. All the way up, his hole clenching more around the shaft as his insides craved the pressure of it against his prostate. It was so thick that no matter how he angled himself, he could feel the rigid canine cock pressed against his sensitive bits at all times. Further, further, further, feeling the friction on his rim until –
PLOP!
He could feel his ass bouncing, dropping, then rippling on its way back up. Each bounce had him basically twerking, his big ass falling and almost hitting the floor as the knot stopped him a few inches away from it. He ground against it again –
Partway in…
Asmund could feel the whole thing there, could feel the sheer girth of the knot against his hole still, but there was a sense of opening up. A little bit of that knot – maybe a fifth of it – had managed to push a bit further in. He was – he was going to take it, he realized, and –
Up again.
Down again.
Up again.
Down again.
He was picking up speed, and each time that he bounced down to the bottom of the Willbreaker, he could feel his cock throbbing to a harder and harder erection. There was no pain. There was no discomfort, despite the dildo’s impossible size for him. It was pure pleasure, and he wheezed as he rolled his hips up and down, up and down, squatting and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he slammed it into him again and again until –
POP!
The knot finally slammed in. He gasped, his breath all but punched out of his lungs as he took the whole thing, but his hips refused to stop moving. He felt the tugging, the dragging against his rim, before –
POP!
Out again.
POP!
In.
POP!
Out.
POP!
“Nnnnngh!”
Without warning, without anything to give him a chance to brace himself, the knot punched his prostate hard enough to get him off. For the first time in months, for the first time in far too long, Asmund came, and he came hard enough to feel like a fountain as he shot his load over the pillows in front of him.
Yet, even as he came, his body kept moving.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
He struggled off of the knot, but the command wouldn’t let him take a moment to breathe, to take a break, or anything. It was just relentless pushing, making him rise up, making him go all the way to the tip of the Willbreaker before slamming his hips back down. Each time he took the knot, it ground right against his prostate, hammering him with more pleasure, making his cock jump again.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
The soft ‘smacks’ of the floor hitting his ass when he took the knot didn’t go unnoticed, either. Every time, every fucking time he took the knot, he heard someone chuckle, someone mutter, someone pointing out how fat his ass was and how good it looked taking knots. And…
And it felt good.
Too good.
Before Asmund realized it, he was on the verge of cumming again. Months without an orgasm, and now two within ten minutes. He tried to slow himself down, tried to hold out as he felt his balls starting to churn and rise with need, but it was impossible. The relentless ride continued, taking him all the way down, then all the way up, then all the way down again, popping that knot again and again and again until –
“NNNGH!”
Another deep moan, another explosive climax as he blew his load all over the floor. The second rope of cum went further than the first, running across his cushion bed all the way to the base of the stairs leading up to Targir’s throne. Asmund huffed and groaned and moaned, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as the pleasure rushed through his veins. It made his head fuzzy, made his body feel so warm and comfortable, so right with what was happening, and –
POP!
Again, rising up. Again, unable to stop. Again, the pleasure rising as the long shaft continued to grind his prostate into oblivion.
Targir chuckled, shaking his head.
“Speak honestly, bear. Are you broken?”
“Nnnngh…n-no,” he said, the words pulled from his lips.
“You will be. Keep riding; I’ll ask again later.”
#
It was four hours and eight repetitions of the question later when Asmund finally broke. He moaned as he fell onto the knot, then raised himself up again, the popping sounds of hours ago almost muted against the sloppy wet sounds of his own seed rolling down his thighs, the dripping ooze of his pre-cum against his balls, and the wet, sweaty sounds of his ass taking the knot without an issue.
“Are you broken, bear?”
“Yes,” came the telling word.
“Stop.”
Asmund didn’t have a choice; he stopped right at the mid-point of the knot, his hole at the widest stretch that it could possibly get from the Willbreaker. He groaned, even that giving him a faint pleasure, but the relief from the endless orgasms was the greater reward. His balls had shrunk, emptying themselves so many times over the last four hours and almost invisible against his crotch. They were unharmed, but they were drained…drained and empty…
Targir walked over to him, cupping his head. Asmund stared up, unable to do much more than breathe.
“You will speak honestly. You will say nothing but the truth. Your deepest, most powerful feelings. Do you understand?”
The bear nodded.
“Speak, then. Tell the court who you are.”
“I am…I am Asmund.”
“And who is Asmund?”
“A slave.”
“Does he deserve to be a slave?”
“No, but he is grateful to be a slave,” the polar bear panted, huffing as his hole squeezed and almost squeaked a bit around the knot keeping him open. “Nnngh…wolf-knot is…the best…”
“Good, good. Do you enjoy being fucked?”
“More – more than anything – mmmph. The knot…the knot is the best…Superior wolf-knot…”
“Knot yourself.”
He sat down, and his cock dribbled a weaker orgasm, spitting a little bit of his seed down the shaft and into the puddle he squatted in. The smears of his own cum ran between his toes and along his soles, and his balls were just barely low enough to sit in his own slime puddle from all his pleasure.
“And where do bears belong?” Targir asked.
“We’re all knot-sluts, inside. All waiting…waiting to be caught…and trained…and reminded where we belong.”
“Good…And what do we say now?”
“I’m sorry,” Asmund wheezed, groaning as he rolled his ass back against the knot, grinding it into him as much as he could. “I’m sorry for pretending to be anything but a slave. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t like it. I’m sorry for pretending to be someone that has freedom. I’m your slave. I’m a slut for wolf-knot and wolf-dick. I need it, I need it…”
“Heh, very good…very, very good…”
The silver-furred wolf petted him, stroking his head until Asmund finally collapsed. The thickness and heft of the Willbreaker kept him upright, but that was all. The world turned dark, and he lost consciousness.
#
One year later…
“Mmmph…mmph, thank you master, thank you master!”
Asmund’s moans echoed through the small chamber that had become his permanent residence. He still had the lush bed, but that was all. Slaves didn’t need dressers or bits of furniture. They slept until they were called for, and then, their master gave them what they needed for the moment. And he had a good master.
POP! POP! POP!
The knot-fucking had been going for…he didn’t know. Time was a construct. Time didn’t mean anything. Time only mattered when the master said it mattered, and Asmund hadn’t been told how long he needed to do something, so it didn’t matter. He just moaned, his head buried in the bed, his teeth embedded in a pillow as he moaned for more. The popping sound of the knot just reminded him of where he belonged, and what gave him pleasure, purpose, and a point to everything.
He'd lost track of how many times he’d cum from Master Targir’s knot in his ass, or the number of times that he’d been gaped by that shaft. All he knew was that it was far better to use his ass on a knot than it was to ever use his cock. Fucking was not allowed for bears; they were only allowed to get fucked.
Fingers wove through his hair, pulling him back. The long bearded braids that ran down his muzzle were as ringed as his toes and cock now, jangling as he was lifted out of the bed and made to face the other side of the room again.
Anja.
Yngvi.
His former lovers sat together on their own cushions. They were there to watch him get fucked, just as he had been there to watch them get fucked. Yngvi…
He couldn’t remember if the artisan was on-loan from Mundus or if the other wolf had gotten bored with the smaller bear and given him to Targir. Either way, the round-bottomed bear continued to ride toys while others were getting fucked, and he devoted himself to the study of pleasure the way that others devoted themselves to war and art. He continued to ride, squatting on the balls of his feet as Asmund got railed.
Anja, on the other hand, sat with a disdainful look on her face. She had been a favorite of Targir, but sometime in the last year, Asmund remembered her getting nudged out of the bed. He had taken her place, become more of the silver wolf’s primary lover, and for now, he kept that position. What had started as her cucking him with the wolf had turned into Targir humiliating her with his preference for Asmund’s ass.
POP! POP! POP!
Not that Asmund could focus on that for long with his master knot-popping his hole so hard. He moaned, his cock on the verge of another orgasm already. His mouth hung open, his beard swaying from side to side as he was rutted from behind.
“You know where you belong now, don’t you bear?” Targir growled in his ear.
“Nnngh…yes…”
“Say it.”
“I belong…belong in your bed…on your knot. I belong to you…as the example…of what bears should be!”
“And what are bears?”
“Bears are knot-sluts. Bears are wolf-bitches. Bears belong…belong to you and the other wolves…as the butt-sluts of the world…”
“Good boy.”
SMACK!
Asmund moaned, tightening up for a moment. It made the knot feel bigger, made the popping sound of each thrust get a little louder and take a little longer, and most of all, made the whole thing feel better.
He huffed and puffed as he was filled and emptied, filled and emptied. His eyes closed to slits as he fell into total submission. Whatever pride he’d had as a warrior was long forgotten; all that remained was the pride and happiness of being the best slut in the palace, and the first choice of pleasure for the master of the wolves. The fact that he had become the Overthane’s first choice in bed was all that mattered to him. Everything else could be forgotten, because it just didn’t matter anymore.
“Thank you, Master,” he whispered as he was fucked. “Thank you for breaking me…and remaking me…”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Down again.
Face in the pillows.
Eyes closed.
The knot-fucking continued, and Asmund lost himself to the rhythm, rolling his ass back to take it deeper. Again, again, again, each one cementing his position in the world once more. He panted, enjoying each pop, each squelch of the cock sliding into place, and each little bit of warmth as all the wolf’s pre-cum ran down his taint and over his balls. The musky scent, the heat of rut, and the constant pleasure that came from being a good ursine butt-slut washed over him, sinking him further into that happy mind of a slave.
The Warlord was no longer there. It was no longer needed. Asmund the Butt-Slut, Asmund the Slave. That was who he was now.
And he was fine with that.
The End
Summary: Asmund’s story comes to an end in this epilogue.