Submitting to the Chieftains

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

*****

The dragon gulped, his mouth uncomfortably dry. The mission should have been an easy one, a mission only called such, because that's what they had always called the renewal of the peace treaty. Pyros had been proud when he, a freshly minted diplomat of the high-ranking draconian empire, was chosen to renew the treaty between the wilder equine tribes and the empire. Their ways of life couldn't have been more different with Pyros being a dragon well used to the finer side of life, easy transport and a society that held their personal grooming in high regard at all times.

The crimson beast perched on what seemed to be a tree stump, or at least a close imitation of such, was a far cry from the creature that flirted with money, a crisp, tailored suit hanging from his shoulders at all times. Of course, Pyros still wore his favourite suit, complete with the line of diamonds around the pressed collar, but it did not 'suit' the situation for the cocky dragon who had expected to sweep in with a flourish of his wings, have the treaty signed and be back in his penthouse apartment in time for dinner.

What he didn't know what just what the chieftains required of him in order to seal the deal and ensure the treaty extended...well, until it had to be signed once again. Their calendar was a side different to the draconian times that Pyros was used to, but it worked well enough.

The firelight flickered on the tents, only present as the more primitive -- depending on how one looked at it -- equine tribe clustered around, each chieftain of their lands sitting cross-legged on the bare ground. Long grass surrounded the tents, but the area where they'd been working and socialising had been cleared for this very event, beaten down by their worn, bare hooves. The tribe wore little clothing, but enough to cover their modesty and ensure their decency -- at least in Pyros' eyes -- as simple as it was. Only the chieftains wore elaborate headdresses that could have been reminiscent of another culture entirely, if not for the woven gemstones branching out from their skulls as if entirely of their own volition.

"So, Pyros said, breaking the quiet of the crackling flames. "Would you be so kind as to sign the scroll now? I have it right here with me," he said, as if it needed to be stated that he had indeed brought it with him."

A white equine with a bare torso rippling with muscle leaned forward and surveyed him closely. His hide was spotted with black dots of varying sizes and shapes and anyone who knew horses and their culture would have called him an Appaloosa.

Pyros had no such knowledge and merely blinked supremely at the horse as he pushed his shoulder blades back and sat up straighter, pushing out that muscled chest as if for attention.

"Little dragon, this is not how things work for our kind."

Pyros tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow quirked.

"Then how does it? What more may I provide to you so that we may renew our treaty and join in peace once again?"

The strapping Appaloosa stallion bellowed a laugh and slapped his thigh, headdress jiggling as his loincloth shifted. Discreetly, Pyros averted his eyes, though the bulge growing at the equine's crotch could hardly be denied. A part of him reeled in shock even as his curiosity rose, nudging at the back of his mind. But, no, he had to be professional, he had to be polite. It was why they had sent him above everyone else, after all. He was the best dragon for the job.

The stallion shook his head, wiping the back of his paw across his lips. In the dancing firelight, his hide gleamed, and Pyros struggled to drag his eyes away.

And then, so quickly that it was in the span of time it took to blink, the bulky equine was before him, towering on his hooves as he closed his paw around Pyros' shoulder. The dragon instinctively shuddered from his touch, but the chieftain with turquoise and rubies spiralling out from his headdress in a truly frightening display -- like a wild beast baring its teeth.

"Get down on your knees, dragon."

The 'dragon' flinched.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pyros leapt to his feet, anger coursing up from the pit of his belly, but the arrogant jump only served to send him bouncing back off the stallion's broad chest. Cursing, he staggered and went to adjust his tie, but only found his wrist in the hold of a much stronger paw than his, blunt hoof-tipped fingers closing easily over his scales.

Something rippled through him that he could not name and Pyros gasped faintly. The spotted stallion smiled, lips peeling back from his teeth as he sifted through the fresh scent on the air.

"Ah..." He murmured, inhaling deeply. "So you were the right one to send, after all."

Pyros growled as the stallion drew him up against his body; there was no denying the hardness that pressed through the horse's loincloth, which no longer covered any sense of modesty that the stallion had. The chieftain laughed softly, nostrils fluttering, and tore the cloth away, revealing his hard, throbbing pink and grey shaft in all its pulsing glory. Pyros gaped, opening and closing his mouth as the stallion flaunted his body.

"Did you truly not know what the signing of the treaty entailed?"

Pyros had no chance to respond as the stallion grabbed at his frills and forced him down. And then there were more paws on him -- more than he could possibly count -- stripping him of his suit, ripping and tearing until he was in nothing but his scales. The scent of sweaty equine bodies rolled over his senses and Pyros groaned against himself, shuddering as his family jewels were groped and handled as if he was nothing more than a piece of meat.

He didn't even know the beast's name. And he could have run -- or, at least, that was what he told himself. Maybe they had known all along why he had been best suited to the task of having the treaty signed as his need rose with the pulse of his throbbing cock, the dragon's ridged shaft betraying his desire even as his mind reeled in shock. He could have run; he should have run.

Yet he did not run, that thrum of deeper pleasure rising to curl sinuously about his mind. Paws bore him down to his knees and he blinked softly at the sudden ring of hard, equine shafts surrounding me. It seemed that every chieftain wanted to be first to take his muzzle, but it was the spotted stallion who claimed his prize first.

Smirking cockily to Pyros, still trying to come to his senses, the horse hooked a finger into the corner of his mouth and forced his jaws apart.

"Get used to it, dragon -- you're going to be sucking cock the rest of the night."

He didn't have a chance to reply before that drooling shaft was crammed between his lips, driving into his long muzzle until the tip kissed the back of his throat. Pyros' eyes bulged and he flapped his wings, scrabbling at the stallion's legs until another yanked his arms brutally up behind his back, a muttered curse on his lips. Huffing and groaning, the Appaloosa chieftain sank slowly to his knees, tail lashing, and rocked his hips powerfully, slamming that shaft deep into Pyros' muzzle with more vigour than the dragon could ever have dredged up.

The dragon started, eyes wide, as another stallion -- was it the black beast? He couldn't tell -- knelt behind him, paws running down his back and over his hips as if he owned the dragon himself. Pyros pressed his tail down, suddenly, horribly exposed, but the stallion coolly pushed it up and out of the way again as if there was never any question of the diplomat submitting. And, truly, there never was. The horse's cock slapped his buttocks and Pyros froze, blood roaring between his ears as the stud before him grunted and sped up, balls slapping the dragon's chin with every, rampant thrust.

They didn't bother wasting time preparing him and yet the black stallion pushed in regardless, letting his victim's tail hole stretch around him, unusually accommodating for a first time. Pyros groaned deep in his throat, though not much was heard of the muffled sound, and trembled, afraid to move forwards or back as his anal ring throbbed painfully, unused to such rough treatment. Luckily for him, though he struggled to wrap his mind around just what was happening still, he relaxed enough for the stud to ram in up to the medial ring, dollops of creamy pre-cum lubricating his passage.

Moaning, Pyros closed his eyes, his world narrowing to that of stallion-cock and thrumming, deeply rooted pleasure. He could not have explained just why the shaft under his tail made him tremble so or why the demanding paws yanking on his frill made his cock spurt, but the craving for more could not be denied.

The spotted stallion had a task to fulfil, however, and the treaty could not be sealed without the cum of each and every one of them. Snorting heavily, he flicked his tail and dragged Pyros' muzzle down, moving his head as he fucked him like nothing more than a passing amusement, a toy to be abused and tossed away. His flaring cock-tip crammed into the back of Pyros' throat and his eyes watered as he hacked and coughed, struggling not to gag around the flattening head.

Pressing out and out, the tip of the stallion's shaft swelled, betraying an orgasm that Pyros could have hardly predicted with his lack of knowledge on equines. Thus it was that the first shot of cum down his throat caught him off-guard, cheeks bulging and frills sore from the horse's insistent tugging, holding him down and forcing him to swallow. As he ejaculated, rocking his hips up to the dragon's lips, the chieftain grunted and flagged his tail, proud to have been the first to take the conquest of the night.

But the night was just beginning and, oh, the stud stallions had a 'treat' in store for the poor, naive diplomat. The first cock under his tail, probing deep and demanding he clench, was only the beginning.

Quick to follow, the black equine leaned over Pyros' back, hoofed fingertips digging painfully into his hips and tail as he forcibly hauled him back on his cock, insisting that every inch sank deep into the dragon's passage before pulling back for another driving thrust of abject pleasure. He hammered in as the softening cock was pulled from Pyros' lips without ceremony, leaving the dragon gasping before another was rammed in and his mouth used and occupied once again. He lost track of who was fucking him as the stallion to his rear slammed in one final time and let loose an ear-splitting whinny as he hit climax, spurt after spurt of hot seed splashing up into the dragon's rectum.

But he would not be the last. Horse after horse claimed his muzzle and tail hole, one blending seamlessly into the other as his tail hole throbbed, tail aching from being held up and forced out of the way for so very long. Not to speak of his muzzle, jaws burning with pain, but the dragon still unable to pull his head away from the stallions feeding him those beautiful, thick cocks one after the other, drifting into a hazy land of lust and pleasure. Yes, it was better to be on his knees beneath the chieftains -- he had underestimated them by far. And Pyros knew one thing was true, if nothing else.

Before meeting them, the dragon had thought he was dominant through and through, but it turned out that he was nothing more than a malleable, submissive toy in their strong paws, letting them grab at and pull his frill to direct him where they pleased. As the night wore on and dawn spread her colours through the sky, the stallions continued on, each taking their turn on his tail hole until it gaped and yawned, ever ready for the next pole to fill it.

Hazy-eyed, Pyros whimpered around a mouthful of horse-cock and arched his tail up over his back, ready to take the first stallion who'd fucked his muzzle under his tail too, as sore as he was. Laughing cruelly, the Appaloosa stud slapped Pyros' arse and yanked up his tail even higher, hugging it to his chest as he drove in without a care for the dragon's comfort or pleasure. But that brutal thrust was all the pleasure Pyros needed, panting and bucking through another orgasm, his own semen seeping into the dirt beneath their tryst.

Perhaps he'd volunteer to venture out for the signing of the treaty when it next came around too.