The night was quiet, even by the secluded temple’s standards. The guards normally posted at the chamber’s entrance had been dismissed for the evening, which meant that Thunder at Dawn could lie in waiting, undisturbed, while the traitor and criminal unwittingly revealed himself. No light was needed, for the feline’s keen senses allowed him to see perfectly fine. His slit-pupils merely widened to gather what miniscule starlight managed to stretch that far in, giving everything a faded, washed-out quality but allowing him to see nearly as well as he could in broad daylight. The wind was strong and dragged with it the fragrant perfume of jungle flowers as it whistled down the limestone corridor. The scent of another feline would be easy for the jaguar to detect above such a sickly sweet aroma.

Earlier that day, Poem of Summer, the tabaxi tribe’s king, had stared in disbelief at the pyramid’s cache of treasure the black cat now guarded while, Thunder and the other warriors shifted uncomfortably. The normal pile of gold and trinkets, baubles and precious stones, magical artifacts and scrolls of foriegn and ancient knowledge had been steadily diminishing over the last season. The lord of the Whispering Jungle clan turned toward his champions, equally angry and mystified.

His gaze fell squarely on Thunder at Dawn. The jaguar was often the center of attention since he stood out amongst his peers. The twenty-year-old feline was unusual for several reasons. He was large and strong for a cat anthro, standing at nearly seven feet tall with a solid, muscular build. His coat was black as pitch, which made him an oddity since his tribe-mates’ pelts trended toward spotted and yellow or reddish-brown. His eyes were a gorgeous piercing gold, broken only by the slender, black slants of his pupils. An expert fighter with an imposing build, he served as an elite guard for the chief of the clan. He was highly skilled in combat with a sword comprised of a split wooden club studded with shards of obsidian. Unerringly loyal, he had earned the right to wear somewhat more elaborate clothing for his station. In addition to his teal-cotton skirt he also frequently donned a cape trimmed with gold fabric and a headdress strung with beads of various precious stones.

The other guards, all at least a head shorter than Thunder, visibly shrunk back from their monarch’s unhappy glare. The missing treasure was a mystery, and their caste was unused to being charged with problems that finely honed combat skills and feats of athleticism couldn’t solve. Living in the heart of the rainforest, the Whispering Jungle tribe rarely had contact with outsiders, so no tabaxi had need for material wealth. In addition, their people valued the stories and riddles of the oddities themselves over their value or practical enchantments. Stealing one was strange, though a dangerously curious cat might be tempted to do so. Stealing many was confounding.

The priests and nobles had already concluded that it must have been a clan member who was guilty of the theft. This was no single heist that had slowly but surely drained possibly hundreds of pounds of riches out from the pyramid’s coffers, but a sustained series of small burglaries over a couple of moon cycles.

Thunder at Dawn was charged with capturing the culprit and finding the stolen treasure.

The late night stretched to early morning and the onyx-furred feline was just starting to feel that his sleepless night had been wasted and the bait of the absence of the normally posted sentries had gone untaken when a shadow shifted at the edge of his vision. He smelled the intruder and heard the telltale scrape of claws on stone before he spotted him.

The tabaxi warrior could scarcely believe his eyes.

Patch in the Forest scampered along in the gloom, climbing horizontally near where the wall met the ceiling. He was on the small side for a member of their species, with his ear tips only just reaching about six feet tall. He was a tigrillo, and had the expected wiry frame with a longer than average torso and spindly limbs. His thick, soft coat was a deep ochre with black rosettes across his back and flanks, the standard pelt for an oncilla of his bloodline. His splotches were irregularly shaped and open in the center. Patch’s underbelly was ashen with a few, sparse spots, and his tail was ringed with sable. The backs of his ears were a dark charcoal and each one had a bold, white spot at its center. His eyes were his namesake. They were glinting green orbs that were flecked with hints of aurum, like rays of sunlight breaking through the canopy at midmorning.

The lanky cat tended to be adventurous, and by extension a bit unkempt at times, rarely grooming his pelt as sleek as it could be. That night was no different, with tufts of fur protruding at all angles. He was dressed in no more than a simple, green-cotton loincloth. He often didn’t even bother wearing that much, simply stating to all inquiries that clothing impeded his climbing abilities (of which he was rather proud). Patch carried with him his omnipresent small bundle of light throwing spears in a sling on his back, their rattling muted by strips of cloth wrapped about their grips. He was known for being brash and impetuous, and served as a scout for the clan, venturing into territories uncharted and sniffing out potential danger. Though gifted with agility, the nineteen-year-old’s stealth was regularly thwarted somewhat by his youthful enthusiasm. He had seemed awfully lazy as of late though, sleeping through most of the day in the warm grass or on a comfy branch.

Thunder was friends with the other cat, despite their differences. While Patch in the Forest could be headstrong and flaunt rules on occasion, the jaguar had never taken him for a petty thief. Maybe he’d swipe a bauble here or there just to toy with it and take a peek, as any feline might, but he was honest enough to return such things mostly intact.

The panther opted to not draw his weapon as he crouched down silently in the darkness to observe what Patch did next. The oncilla continued to scurry across the wall, clinging tightly by his claws and seemingly unaware of the silent guard’s presence. He moved so gracefully that his breechcloth barely fluttered by his lashing tail. The smaller anthro dropped agilely to the floor and slunk toward the remaining riches in the treasure chamber. 

Finally, the guardian made his move. He stood and approached not boldly with back straight and chest out to appear authoritative, but casually. He hoped if he appeared relaxed he would be able to reason with the younger feline and avoid any extreme repercussions for crimes.

“Patch! What do you think you’re doing?” He tried and failed to keep the edge out of his voice. His tone was hushed to not alert anyone outside, causing him to sound exasperated by the time he got the second word out. The room they were standing in was only separated from the exterior of the temple by an open hallway and while there were no other warriors in the immediate vicinity, tabaxi had sensitive ears and the night was calm. “Poem of Summer is unbelievably upset! You’re going to get yourself in serious trouble this time. Stop this now and bring back the rest of the treasure from wherever you’ve hidden it!”

Still on all fours, Patch in the Forest gazed mutely up at him. As a thin ray of illumination streaked in from outside as a cloud passed the moon Thunder noted his friend’s normally vibrant eyes seemed dull and lifeless. He didn’t respond. After a moment of blank staring the thinner cat simply turned toward the horde of coins and gems and began to sift through it, plucking forth a few choice artifacts. 

Thunder at Dawn quickly reached out and grabbed the tigrillo’s slender wrist.

“You have to stop this!” He reiterated, unamused.

The clay-colored cat paused and turned toward his aggressor. It was as though his multi-hued eyes were looking right through him and his mind was clearly elsewhere. The scout’s ears suddenly twitched like he was intently listening to something that only he could hear. After a moment of awkward silence, the smaller feline sprung into action. He reached back with his free paw and pulled forth a spear. He immediately brought it before him, forcing his tribemate to release him or risk its serrated edge. Thunder bent back his ears as he flexed his claws, but left his sword undrawn, still unwilling to take up arms against a friend unless convinced it was absolutely necessary. 

Patch moved to take an offensive posture, but he did so stiffly and with a barely perceptible tremble that seemed at odds with his normal fluidly and confidence. Something was wrong, the sinewy panther could plainly tell, and beating the other male senseless to hand him over to Poem of Summer for punishment wasn’t going to get to the bottom of it. Thunder at Dawn dropped his combat stance and backed away with his paws raised. The other jungle cat hesitated awkwardly before sheathing his weapon and quickly swiping a few final trinkets from the remaining hoard. He stuffed a golden scepter into the thin strip of cloth holding up the loose flaps of his loincloth, pilfered a couple of large jewels, and with an unnerving, unblinking glance back to his larger friend he bounded off.

There was something that sparkled in his eyes for just the briefest moment. It was a hint of both recognition and fear in his otherwise emotionless gaze. His loping off into the night was stiffer than usual too; his movements were jerky and unplanned.

Thunder followed him to the entrance slowly, keeping a safe distance, and saw his clanmate already most of the way down the sloped side of the pyramid and about to disappear past the treeline. The jaguar looked up toward the moon. The evening was still early enough that he might be able to track where his friend had fled to and find out the reason for his odd behavior. After wavering for a moment, he gave chase and briskly darted off into the rainforest. The tangles that Patch had headed toward were regions that were still being charted. They were veritable labyrinths of undergrowth that the oncilla knew well enough, since he had been exploring them for months now, but the panther was going in blind.

Drawing on all of his skill, he had to swiftly track the fleeing feline through his scent and the faint rustling of flora ahead of him alone.

Patch in the Forest ran for far longer than Thunder at Dawn expected him to. The night dragged on as he sprinted through the jungle, climbing tree trunks, jumping from limbs, and swinging from branches. Eventually the warrior reached a clearing at the base of a cliff wall. A yawning cave lay open in the jagged stone. Masons had chipped away at the surrounding rock to carve out an ornate entrance. The hungry visage of a snake’s head, open wide with two long fangs protruding almost to the earth below before ending in sharp points lay before him. It’s dead, stone eyes seemed to seethe with malice. The stonework had seen little weathering. There was no moss or slime upon the rocks, and the carving was fresh enough that he could still make out the pattern of scales chiseled into the stone.

The tabaxi champion’s blood ran cold. This was a yuan-ti lair.

The serpentfolk were the cruelest anthros the rainforest had to offer. They subjugated and enslaved all other beings and the Whispering Jungle tribe always gave their lairs, both fresh and those which lie in ruins a wide berth. One could never tell when a seemingly unused cavern would lead to underground network of caves that opened into the vast, dark empire of snakes. Even the least skilled of the reptiles were powerful warriors and potent spellcasters. Their presence surely heralded doom for any who crossed their path.

Thunder steeled his resolve and drew his weapon, taking solace in the weight of the blade in his paw. With a few deep breaths, he ventured inside. He perked up his ears and crept inside, staying low to the ground to muffle any noise. He each step with grave caution, listening intently for any sign of danger. The cavern twisted and wound around itself, just like those that fashioned it. It sloped gently downward. The sides were smooth and round, clearly bored by magic rather than the lava flows common to the area. After a long, circuitous trek the pathway opened into a large chamber. The lower reaches of the cave were painted with faintly glowing phosphorescent pigments of powdered fungi, while the ceiling vaulted much higher than the tunnel’s claustrophobic confines had. It rose far enough into the darkness that even the jaguar’s sensitive eyes could scarcely make out where it was. A pile of riches that dwarfed even his tribe’s considerable trove lay in a vast mound at the center of the grotto. The cat spotted amongst the mounds treasures many of his clan’s missing relics.

“Patch!” He hissed frantically searching for his wayward friend. He was scared to raise his voice above a whisper. “We have to leave here now!”

Thunder at Dawn’s mind raced with possibilities. Could the oncilla have truly betrayed the tribe? No. He was acting too strangely. He must’ve been ensorcelled by a snake mage, which meant that they were both in dire peril. He needed to find his fellow tabaxi and rescue him, even if it meant knocking him senseless and dragging him back through the jungle for the tribe’s priests to break him free of whatever hex gripped him. The familiar scratching of claws against stone alerted him once again to the spotted feline’s presence above him. He turned just in time.

The tigrillo clung fast to the ceiling, crouched in an inverted predatory stance. He had just unleashed a spear and it hurtled directly toward the panther. The muscular hunting cat dove aside just quickly enough for the obsidian tip of the weapon to strike the earth. The clattering of the javelin across the rocks echoed loudly throughout the cavern. The more agile tabaxi suddenly leapt from the ceiling, claws up before him as he pounced down upon his clanmate. Their bodies collided in a violent blur. The force of the attack caused them to tumble and roll before finally sliding to a halt in the pile of coins and gemstones. Thunder’s own blade was knocked from his grasp during the impact and skidded across the floor, well outside his reach.

They wrestled and scuffled for a brief moment. The jaguar snarled with ferocity while Patch remained stoic, nimbly trying to slip his wrist from the stronger feline’s grasp in order to slash at him with his razor-sharp claws. The ink-colored cat had landed on his back at the end of the tussle, but slowly managed to gain enough leverage without getting wounded to roll back and flip Patch in the Forest several feet behind him. Despite his best efforts to right himself during the thow, the oncilla sprawled and rolled until his head thumped heavily against the ground. He groggily pushed himself up right on unsteady limbs, and cast about dazed. He blinked several times, wincing as he rubbed the bump on the back of his skull. He looked over to his friend.

Thunder at Dawn eyed him warily. The bigger cat’s jaw hung slightly agape while his chest heaved with the exertion of their recent battle. The lithe tabaxi eyes were free of the emotionless haze that had fallen over them before. The blow to the head seemed to have knocked him out of whatever magical spell had bewitched him.

“Thunder!” He exclaimed, fright obvious in his voice. “We need to get out of here! I’ve been stuck coming here every few nights for weeks!”

Patch in the Forest started hyperventilating in his panic.

“Don’t worry. Stay calm. We’ll get out of here right away. Gather what you can carry to bring back to King Poem of Summer and we’ll get moving,” Thunder instructed, lowering his guard now that it looked like his companion was more or less back to normal.

“You don’t understand,” came the reply. Patch was a grown warrior, but he nearly whimpered like a kitten. “I remember everything. I could think and feel, but I couldn’t control myself half of the time. It was like I was trapped in my own body. I couldn’t even speak a word of it. Everyday he was there in my head. He messed with my mind Thunder. Made me think of him as my friend… as my owner...my master.”

His beautiful green and gold eyes welled up with moisture.

“He who?” The jaguar warrior insisted. The hysteria in Patch’s voice started to alarm him as well.

Dread built in the pit of his stomach as coins clinked against one another and the mound shifted behind them. A striking form slid from beneath the massive pile of treasure.

“Itzam,” the smaller tabaxi’s lips quivered with awe and fear as he whispered the name.

Before them rose was a yuan-ti abomination. He was a python anthro, perhaps twelve feet long from nose to tail, though only seven or eight feet stood erect. His smooth, sinuous form was covered in verdant green scales and a series red, crescent-shaped markings that ran from above his flaring nostrils all down his spine. He had blazing crimson eyes with slit pupils surrounded by a halo of fiery orange. Despite having no legs, the slithering beast had a pair of muscular arms. His body was adorned with resplendent finery. A ruby-encrusted circlet was at the reptile’s brow and a pair of golden armbands encircled his powerful biceps. In one hand he held a massive trapiche emerald. The chunk of viridian stone was nearly the size of a skull and had a radial star of pure blackness spiraling out from its core, causing six evenly spaced bands of darkness to ring the jewel. It hummed with an almost imperceptibly glow. 

Thunder at Dawn knew of the horrors of the yuan-ti. His tribe had long battled their kind, and the tales of their egotism and cruelty had been passed down through the generations. He didn’t hesitate to dive for his sword while Patch brandished a spear in shakey paws, clearly unnerved by the scalie’s presence. The brave jaguar had nearly reached his weapon before Itzam reacted. The snake rapidly hissed a few arcane syllables and wove his free hand through the air while raising his precious magical focus with the other.

The black feline gripped his sword tightly and turned on the serpent. He charged forward, determined to interrupt whatever magic the python was invoking. He had almost reached the abomination before a scintillating rainbow hue twisted and looped itself through the air as if painted by an enormous invisible brush. It glittered captivatingly. Thunder staggered to a halt before swaying and dropping his blade. He only distantly heard the wood and obsidian thunk against the ground. In his peripheral vision he saw his friend likewise gawk at the pattern and drop his weapon, magically stupefied by the myriad of illusory colors dancing through the air.

The panther struggled against the urge to look on dumbfounded and drool at the mosaic of color that sparkled before him, but found himself fighting a losing battle. Itzam slithered forward threateningly until he was mere inches from the hunting cats. The snake caressed his massive gemstone for a moment before letting go of it. The jewel hovered in place, held up by an unseen force. The yuan-ti flicked out his tongue, tasting his preys’ fear.

Itzam reached out to pet the tabaxis’ fur, one with each hand, and tangled their soft fluff in his fingers. The sorcerer lowered his face to be eye-level with the captive cats. His tongue flickered out once more, this time against one of his paralyzed victim’s cheeks. They exuded pheromones of terror.

The scaled anthro rasped out a slow, melodic chant. The occult words poured from him, every other sound a drawn out “S” or “Z” that seemed to layer over itself in a manner that should be impossible for a single voice to utter. Thunder at Dawn stared helplessly at the snake. Everything other than the crimson orbs of his captor’s intense eyes blurred and ran together, like rain across fresh paint. Soon, those too wavered and shifted. To jaguar, the ambient noise faded away and he began to scarcely even recognize the yuan-ti’s voice. It felt like his consciousness was plummeting through a bottomless abyss. He grappled with the sensation of falling within himself, of bending to Itzam’s will.

Sensible words started to form within the ephemeral drone of the spell. They urged him to submit. To break. To become the snake’s puppet.

Thunder fought the suggestion that ground down relentlessly on his psyche, but found himself faltering against the mental assault, slipping into the numbing gaze of his subjugator. After a couple of strong shivers and spasms (his dwindling gasps of free will trying to maintain control) he was lost. The yuan-ti mage’s magical might was too potent and his resolve lapsed, for the slightest instant, but just long enough for the hypnotic curse to take hold. His arms went slack, his legs weak. The jaguar swayed in place as the droning hiss of the serpent's voice echoed in his skull. It was as if he were imprisoned in his own mind, shaking at the bars of a cage and unable to get his body to respond. He could still feel the fingers stroking through his fur, still hear the distant drip of water filtering into the cavern from the jungle above, but was powerless to do more than submit and experience what was in store for him.

As the incoherent murmuring in his head continued, he saw Itzam repeat the spell on Patch in the Forest. The oncilla mewled and shuddered. Perhaps because he had endured this torture before and knew how pointless and draining it was to fight against it, or perhaps because falling victim to the spell once already had made him more susceptable to it, he surrendered immediately. 

The python’s body undulated back several feet and he leered at his beguiled slaves, one newly acquired, the other returning stock. He stroked the polished surface of his massive gemstone focus like the treasure it was before while it bobbed silently aloft. His tongue darted out. His nostrils flared as he breathed. But his smoldering eyes were alien and unreadable and his lips were too thin to give the impression of either a smile or a snarl. He coiled around the cats, his long body smoothly flowing in a wave-like pattern as his powerful muscles propelled him along. The mage curled into a large circle around where they stood, out of their vision and into it once more from the other side, inspecting them thoroughly.

The world seemed to further blur as the gripping suggestion to obey any commands pressed into Thunder’s will. Even with his somewhat dumbfounded state he couldn’t help but feel like cornered prey. 

The scalie reached down for the tie on Patch’s breechcloth and tugged at the strand of fabric at his hip, allowing the skimpy garment to fall unceremoniously to the floor. His fuzzy sheath and sac were fully on display. Itzam plucked the quiver of spears from the cat’s back as well, nonchalantly casting them aside. He then gently prodded at the tip of the tigrillo’s sheath while continually lashing his tongue out against his captive’s nape.

“Such as small cat you are. You seek dominance? Respect? Control?” The warrior-mage hissed in the tabaxi language, directly into the oncilla’s ear. His syllables were drawn out by his accent and the dialect was archaic but understandable. “A good servant you have been these moons; you shall have it.”

He shifted his sinuous bulk over to the more muscular feline.

“So imposing. So strong-”  the yuan-ti abomination lingered on each “S” menacingly- “You have likely never submitted fully to another...that will change.”

The snake opened his jaw wide, silently and revealed his intimidatingly large fangs for a moment before again slinking back several feet.

“Remove your clothes,” their serpent master commanded.

Instantly the warrior felt his limbs comply. Without thinking, he loosened the tie of his skirt and slid it down his athletic thighs. The fur of his groin was as midnight black as the rest of his pelt. The shape of his heavy, round sac and plump sheath were discernible only by the gentle sheen from what little light glimmered in the cave from the slowly fading rainbow illusion still suffusing the air. Thunder at Dawn inelegantly shrugged off cape, leaving him as naked and exposed as his friend.

“Embrace and pleasure one another. Grind yourselves against each other until you are ready for mating,” Itzam ordered, drawing himself up a few feet higher for a better vantage point.

The compulsion caused the cats to turn to face each other in near perfect unison. Patch’s gold-flecked eyes were dull, but they quivered fretfully. Even with the suppressed emotion on his face he was clearly nervous and embarrassed at being used as a plaything for the serpent’s whims. He was afraid of what they would be made to do to entertain such a cruel master. Helpless to do anything but obey, they hugged. For a brief instance, Thunder took refuge in that simple squeeze. There was genuine admiration and support buried in the gesture.

Then their sheathes met.

As they nudged their groins together, the sensitive flesh was quick to respond. The jaguar felt heat flood his face in shame as his barbed, charcoal tip began to entreat from its furred scabbard. His humiliation was matched by his fellow prisoner, as the sensation of rubbing together caused the spotted cat’s own salmon length begin to swell. Patch in the Forest’s spiny crown was quickly coaxed out with the repeated motion of brushing against one another. It responded much more rapidly than his older friend’s, betraying his underlying emotions, and quickly extended to its full six-and-a-half inches.

“Kneel, puppet,” Itzam snarled, glaring at the panther.

Thunder immediately complied. The persistent whisper in his mind was entrancing him. It had almost convinced him that it was his place to be subservient, and though he was no longer able to fight his commands in the slightest, he was managing to retain his sense of self, however tenuously. The tabaxi champion wavered back and forth between being horrified that his resolve was slipping and wondering why he had ever even bothered trying to resist the orders in the first place, as it was his place to serve. His legs buckled and he fell to the ground, paw pads planted firmly against the hard earth. The warrior’s tail naturally lashed to and fro, revealing his tight hole.

The snake motioned toward the lankier feline.

“Ready him with your tongue.”

Patch stooped to a crouch behind his friend, face burning. As attractive as his companion was, it had been hard for him not to consider his tribemate in a sexual way. He did know that regardless if Thunder at Dawn spent his time with males or females, he preferred to be dominant and seek conquest over his mates. He had likely never been taken this way before.

The black anthro felt the other’s fur’s claws dug into his hips and rump and he tightly gripped the firm globes of his hindquarters, keeping his cleft spread wide for access to his tight hole. He shivered as he experienced the first brush of a tongue against his virgin pucker. The trigillo was a skilled lover both as a dominant and a submissive, and while he was influenced heavily by the hypnotic control that Itzam imposed, his natural talent came out. He dragged his tongue in a series of long slow laps across his soon-to-be-lover’s breach, punctuated by sharp, teasing flickers. Soon, the ebony ring glistened with a faint sheen of saliva and Patch in the Forest set his maw against the entrance.

Thunder felt his spellbound friend’s nose just above his opening and quivered with a mix of unease and indignity, and no small amount of excitement, much to his chagrin.

Suddenly, he almost melted and a gasp escaped his muzzle as Patch’s slick tongue worked its way into his inexperienced hole. Itzam peered silently on as the stronger of his captives fought to keep from moaning while the invading member plunged in and stretched him open. Without even thinking about it, the oncilla used every trick he knew to loosen and excite a partner as he tasted his friend’s heat, rimming him deeply and thoroughly. After what felt at the same time both an eternity and not long enough, the feline withdrew his face from the other cat’s backside and wiped the excess spit from his chin with the back of his arm. They both gazed blankly up at their master.

The scalie gently rubbed his cloaca with his forefinger as he watched the involuntary show. The thin slit in his scales had widened enough to reveal the pale peach color inside. As he fingered his fissure, his penises slid free. Two fleshy cocks extended from the aperture in the snake’s scales, each angled slightly up and away from one another. They gradually inflated to their full girthy, nearly nine inches a piece. Both were marginally more narrow near their base and thickened as they extend. Their tips adorned with a star-shaped flare of flesh. Pre oozed from the tip of each as a glistening bead which eventually dribbled down to the stone below, trailing behind it a shimmering strand. The yuan-ti glared predatorily as he reached down with his other arm and squeezed one of his members in each hand. The dual phalluses thrummed in response, and even in their dazed state, the cats could smell his arousal as he slowly pleasured himself by drumming his fingertips along the underside of his hemipenes.

“Take him! Do not be gentle,” the python directed callously.

Patch stroked his own hardness, wincing for his companion as he felt his barbs drag across his soft paw pads. He knew the importance of caution when it came to having sex with a spiked cock. Automatically, he lined up his length with his unwilling submissive’s saliva-slick ring, and forced himself sharply inside to the hilt. Tears welled up in Thunder’s eyes and he desperately yearned for the freedom to yowl out in anguish, but found himself unable to with the domineering magic dancing across his thoughts and pulling his strings.

The thinner cat quaked as his inches sunk into his partner. His hole was tighter and hotter than any male he had ever been with before, clearly never having been playfully toyed with, let alone roughly fucked. Due to the orders he had been given, Patch in the Forest couldn’t hold back to make the experience any more enjoyable or bearable, and hoped that the panther would quickly adjust. 

He followed his command, pistoning in and out of his stronger ally with his long form almost languidly draped over the jaguar. Despite the stretching and preparation with his tongue, he still felt his barbs against scrape roughly against his friend’s insides. He bit down hard on Thunder’s scruff as he gyrated into him and ground his hips against the other male’s ass. With his new mate’s nape clamped in his teeth, he snarled and picked up speed. Thunder growled and fought back whimpers at being taken so harshly, but his own length was completely rigid during the ordeal and unleashed wet splashes of pre across the stone beneath him. He hadn’t ever considered taking the brash oncilla on as a lover, let alone submitting to his primal mating, but found that through the pain and humiliation and magical compulsion, on some feral, purely physical level he enjoyed it.

“Verile felines. You wish to complete?” The snake taunted. “...my pets do not. Cease!”

The instruction came just as Patch in the Forest was approaching climax. He involuntarily huffed in frustration as his body froze in place. His lips were drawn back in exertion, showing off his sharp fangs as he exhaled hotly across his tribesmate’s collar. Other than his clouded eyes, he could have been mistaken for merely coming down from the primal throes of lust at a casual glance.

The snake slithered forward and motioned for the speckled feline to extract himself from Thunder at Dawn's abused hole. The tigrillo awkwardly shuffled back, his hard cock trailing strands of spit and pre from the black cat’s entrance. His unfulfilled hardness wavered in the air while the panther felt the cool air of the cavern caress his well-used ring.

“One for each of you,” the serpent said, coiling his tail into a circular pile beneath himself to better thrust his penises foward.

Both mammals crawled toward the sorcerer and each gripped one of his rigid cocks in their paws. The velvet flesh pulsed hotly in response their touch. Thunder found himself forced to admit that the flesh was soft and inviting when compared to the scales surrounding it. They gently squeezed and stroked their scalie master and were continually rewarded with beads of watery pre running into the fur on their paws. Simultaneously they opened their muzzles to take as much of his dual lengths as they could into their throats. They sucked and bobbed nonstop while looking up at the reptile mage. Precum flowed readily from each of his phalluses, and every few seconds they were forced to swallow his salty emissions. All the while Itzam swayed slightly in pleasure. Whether his rapture was the result of utterly dominating the minds of his victims or mere physical pleasure was unclear.

If it weren’t for the unyielding grip of magic urging him onward, Thunder at Dawn would have stopped and jumped in surprise as something solid poked at his recently fucked tailhole. It prodded blindly for a moment before easing its way in, inch by inch. It was smooth and tapered, and wriggled in, thickening as it went. Soon the size of it started to become unbearably large as it continued to delve deeper within him. If it weren’t for being prepared by Patch moments before, he would be uncertain he could take the size of it. Out of his peripheral vision, the warrior noted the twitching length of the snake mage’s tail had disappeared behind him and deduced what was happening.

Just when it started to feel like he could take no more inside of his owner’s tail inside of him and he started gagging on the phallus in his mouth out of difficulty, it began to pull back out. The tension the hunting cat’s body eased as the removal left him feeling empty. Just as the tip was about to be dislodged, it thrust in again suddenly, about halfway as far as it had made it the first time. This time it writhed and flexed, hitting all sorts of sweet spots within him and making Thunder’s maleness ache for release.

The wavering back and forth across the line between pain and pleasure was making his head spin, and coupled with the feeling of being utterly trapped and helpless in his own body while it was being used for the pleasure of another was strange and alien. All the while the panther warrior kept suckling on the cock before him, running his tongue along the thick underside and teasing the flared tip. Periodic spurts of pre jetted into his throat and he could do nothing other than swallow and continue.

Itzam began to patronizingly pet Patch, scritching him behind the ears with surprising deftness. 

“Did you enjoy mating the bigger cat? Do not think you will be getting by unscathed for having broken my control,” he promised gravely. “Off of me! You-” he pointed at the older tabaxi- “prepare your friend as thoroughly as he prepared you. Pleasure yourself, but do not finish.”

They shuffled in place to assume the necessary positions. Thunder’s method was a little different from his smaller tribemate’s. He didn’t tease or toy. He gripped higher up on his fellow feline’s hip, just above and to the side of the base of his tail. His claws on one paw dominantly dug in and he planted his maw into the scout’s heat. He gave one large lap across the rosey entrance to wet it and then forced his way in. He licked and thrust his tongue into the tight hole, putting pressure on Patch’s prostate. He tongue fucked the weaker cat until his hole was slick and loose enough for a cock to be buried within it. The entire time, his other paw rapidly stroked his previously neglected hardness, splattering copious amounts of pre onto the ground and scattered gold coins and trinkets beneath them.

He pulled away, still tasting the oncilla on his tongue, and slid a finger in and out of the pink pucker. Warmth gripped the digit and his friend involuntarily clenched down on his paw. Unable to not imagine himself buried into the inviting entrance, the jaguar felt his shaft throb needfully in response. He quickly found that he could add a second finger with some effort, and once it too had slipped in he scissored them widely back and forth to ready the kneeling feline to take a thick cock sinking into him. He loosened his friend for a short while longer before finishing by dragging his tongue across the stretched hole a couple more times to ensure that he was as wet as possible.

Thunder at Dawn’s body was eager to mate. His ass still burned, sore from being roughly penetrated by both the tigrillo and the serpent’s tail, but the need for orgasm had grown intense and undeniable

“Sit there and observe. Keep yourself on the edge of release,” Itzam ordered the panther, as if sensing his frustrated desire to claim the hole he had just readied. The hunting cat’s balls ached after so much build up. “Submit to me,” he concluded, turning his expressionless face toward Patch in the Forest.

The patterned feline stood on shaky legs and limped before the snake, only to drop to the earth once more. He turned his head to the side and pressed his cheek and shoulders to the cold stone, presenting his hindquarters high. His long tail was raised and curved upward along his spine.

The yuan-ti abomination slunk behind the posing oncilla and harshly buried one of his phalluses into the tabaxi’s cleft. Thunder heard Patch in the Forest whine and moan as the nine inches of reptilian flesh opened him wide and didn’t cease forcing its way in until it has fully hilted him. The snake’s entire body was muscle beneath scale and he could quickly and powerfully slam himself in and withdraw, smoothly repeating the process over and over again. He rapidly thrust into his hypnotized slave. His motions were graceful compared to the cat’s wild bucking into Thunder, but no less intense. Both hissed, Itzam in lust and Patch in misery. The champion crouched and fondled himself endlessly while he watched. 

Without warning, the snake removed his dripping cock, and the tigrillo visibly relaxed and panted, thinking his ordeal is over. His muscles trembled weakly, and only the arcane coercion allowed him to remain in position. 

A new pressure was suddenly applied to his abused ring. The jaguar watched as their controller held his dual, pulsing lengths together and lined them up with his captive’s already raw hole. Itzam roughly forced the crowns in, side-by-side, and wriggled his lower abdomen until his submissive’s body relented and took them. He hissed in triumph while his unwilling servant groaned beneath him as the thickest portions of his cocks became buried deep within his entrapped prey. As he humped and thrust, they ground against one another and the stretched walls of his slave’s ass. The pressure Patch’s prostate caused thick strands of pre to ooze from his erection, which hung ignored between his thighs.

Thunder continued to stroke himself, running his paw pads across the dark flesh of his rod to tease himself. Jets of pre shot forth and his member thrummed on the verge of ecstacy. The heady scent of arousal suffused the air. Despite knowing that he was magically compelled to follow the commands, he felt guilt for masturbating while witnessing the violent taking of a friend.

Finally, the serpent reared up, arched his back, and shuddered. His muscles went limp for the briefest moment as he spasmed in the throes of orgasmic bliss. The scalie pumped so much seed into the feline under him that it leaked out around the two members stuffed into his hole. Both Patch and Itzam breathed heavily from exertion and with the exception of their heaving breaths, the cave was silent. After a few moments, the softening cocks deflated enough to slip from the used cat, trailing copious amounts of pearlescent spunk. The fluid trickled from him, wetting the back of his sac and thighs with small rivers of cum.

The abomination looked toward the still pawing Thunder at Dawn.

“Stop!” He commanded sharply. “Clean your friend with your tongue. Lap up my remnants. Savor the taste of your master.”

The warrior’s ears folded back in shame as his body complied. He crawled forward, unceremoniously, behind his tribemate. The jaguar started with the other feline’s legs and scrotum. The salty taste coated his tongue as he was obliged to swallow what he drew into his mouth. When the snake’s essence and been removed from his friend’s pelt, all that remained was what leaked from his ring. Thunder gave his damp breach a long, slow lick. 

He felt his face burn again as the tip of his tongue slid into Patch in the Forest’s entrance and was rewarded with a flood of snake cum. It gushed out and ran over his muzzle as he imbibed all he could, siphoning out the majority of the yuan-ti’s emissions. Once it was done, both humiliated cats stayed in place, exhausted and enthralled by their owner’s unbreakable will. The serpent slithered over to his arcane focus. The black-and-green striped emerald glimmered with life as he caressed it lovingly.

“Return to your trifling lives, my pets. Sunlight approaches. You will come back every few nights, bringing with you more treasures of your clan.”

He paused and massaged his hemipenis as it slowly retracted back into its slit.

“You will be unable to speak of what transpired here, or make any attempt to bring harm to me. Obey my future commands, but you can otherwise act as you wish.”

The orders took effect immediately. It was as if the invisible hands that gripped their limbs and guided them through the series of trials had vanished, and the pair begrudgingly rose to stand on weak legs, barely supporting each other with an arm across the other’s shoulders. Too broken to attempt to fight the compulsions, they kept their eyes on their captor as they limped to retrieve their clothing and weapons.

“Leave them.”

Itzam uncaring, scarlet eyes leered at them as he performed cruel calculations in his head. His difficult to read face held the faintest hint of a smirk at the edge of his wide mouth.

“Mount each other daily. Never climax.”

Unable to resist, the two tabaxi, naked, drained, and mesmerized staggered back out of the cave together and back into the jungle.