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Asphyxiation

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Choked by the Bouncer

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Pyros Byrnur

"Dickheads like you should know what's good for them..."

The gryphon strutted around Pyros, the dragon crumpled in a heap on the ground, naked from the waist down and smirking like the cat that had gotten into the cream, licking his beak salaciously. The white of his head-feathers was ruffled up, his avian half that of a bald eagle with the brown fur of his feline side, finally, revealed in all its glory. Although the definition on his broad chest could not be seen with his shirt still on, however askew it was with his jacket over the top, his thighs rounded out like tree trunks, betraying power that, perhaps the red dragon who had thought to piss him off in the first place should have been more aware of.

He didn't know the bouncer's name even. It did not matter. Not much would matter anymore if the gryphon had his way with Pyros, taking advantage of a drunken drake when he was useless for anything else.

"Suck my cock."

Pyros reeled, although the throb and spurt of lewd pre-cum that his own draconic shaft gave by way of reply gave, at least, his side of the gig up. He'd already taken the bird up under his tail, after all. Was it that much of a push to go further? To be made to do it of his own free will? Yet what was free will in such a decrepit situation, locked up in the back room of a bar, anyway?

He could fight back. But the lines of blood trickling down his body told him a tale that had not gone all that well the first time around.

"No..." His chest rose and fell sharply, striving to stagger to his hind paws, energy sapped and muscles trembling with raw weakness. "No, you've had your fucking fun. Get me clothes or I'll walk out of here fucking naked."

But the bouncer, if he'd ever truly been hired by the bar, had dropped every last pretence of being formal and sneered obnoxiously, eyes narrowed cruelly and the edges of his beak clacking together.

"Like fuck you won't..."

The gryphon handled him so easily that he may as well have been little more than a ragdoll, perhaps just a toy for a child to wield as friend or weapon. Up he was dragged onto his knees, forced to support himself as his mouth was cruelly pried open, the gryphon's tail around his neck. Pyros stiffened as the pressure increased on his throat, something that a drake like him could not have imagined s much as it wickedly made his heart pound and throb in a way that it never had before, and breathing was only made more difficult again as the bouncer stud gryphon slammed his cock back up into his maw. The gryphon's claws hooked into the corner of his mouth kept it as it needed to be, sharp teeth useless as he hacked and coughed and struggled to get just a drop of breath into his sore and aching lungs.

Yet it was all part of the game and the ploy, the payback for pissing someone off who perhaps should never have been in that role if he had had such a short temper to begin with. The gryphon slammed in without any sense of care or consideration for his victim's comfort (really, that was beyond his realm of concern), the dragon simply forced to bear through each pummelling thrust as the pain down his throat and along the lines of his torn and bleeding lips grew and grew.

A kick to his stomach. He doubled over, tail thrashing in pain, but the gryphon only laughed and laughed. Yet the worst of it all was yet to come.

His paws closed around Pyros' throat as he snarled, the sound seeming more appropriate coming from a draconian muzzle than that of a gryphon, but he did it all the same, pressing down and down and down as he pinned him. Pyros snapped and struggled but those fingers found just the spot they needed to, claws digging in to cause further rivulets of blood, but any pain that was derived there was overridden by the overwhelming need to breathe as his windpipe was closed off, rendered obsolete to the desires of a greater creature than what he could ever hope to be.

Breath! He couldn't breathe, not really, sucking oxygen in through a figurative straw as his power and dominance fell over Pyros like a tidal wave, taking every last drop of oxygen from him. The dragon struggled and grunted and whimpered but it was surprising just how difficult it was to put up any real sort of fight when one's oxygen supply was being slowly restricted, enough that his limbs felt heavy and weak and his head pounded, searing through with a ferocious cocktail of desperation and fear.

"Such a slut... Only thing that muzzle of yours is good for."

The gryphon sneered, leaning over his head to put the full weight of his body into his thrusts. Shuddering at a crack, the dragon was dimly aware of something shifting in his jaw. Had that been a break? A fracture? He couldn't tell, couldn't concentrate, the very edges of his vision turning grey as he panted without breath, chest heaving and paws weakly batting at the larger fur's thighs. He could have laughed at himself, how weak he was in the moment that it mattered the most, his ineffective lust for freedom. And yet why was his cock still so hard if he really wanted to get away, if he didn't actually want to be a bruised and broken wreck of a dragon, used and abused until he was nothing more than a husk for another male's pleasure left behind?

Oh...

_ _

He could not groan out loud as his vision wavered, closing his eyes as he submitted. He couldn't fight anyway, there was no point in it. He didn't have to hold on, a sense of calm settling over him like a cloud of perfume, although the only aroma tingling in his nostrils was sweat and musk and semen. How many times had he been taken already? It was impossible to remember, the drake sinking deeper and deeper, giving up any sense of control that he may or may not have had right from the very start.

His chest tightened, constricting in on itself as his stomach turned over. His body was just for the gryphon to do with as he willed now.

And maybe the gryphon bouncer knew that too, hissing through his clenched beak, a muscle jumping at the corner, slamming in with brutal force over and over again. One thrust melded into the next and he snarled viciously, wings flaring out for another pump and grind, throwing every last bit of strength he had into his thrusts. After all, a dragon was only good for one fuck and doing much less than that would just leave him with another unsatisfying experience.

He couldn't have that, oh no. The gryphon hissed and drove in, forcing the dragon to open wide as he squeezed his tail around his neck, closing off his windpipe further if not completely, unable to use that particular appendage to put pressure on just the right spots. But that would come soon, very soon, in fact, and everything would be just as he wanted it to be with another victim dull on the floor with the light of life and breath draining from their eyes.

It was with that thought in his mind that the gryphon howled out his climax, slamming in and spewing a hot, thick load of cum into Pyros' mouth as if he had not recently climaxed, keen only for his pleasure above all else. That was just how it always went with a selfish soul and the dragon whimpered deliriously as he pulled back, spilling a few spurts out over his face and muzzle, marking him as just another slut who had been forced down to his knees for being a cock and, well...made to suck one. Just what else was a dragon good for, after all?

Pyros blinked, dimly aware of things moving around him. That cock was wiped off on his face, the taste of cum thick and heady in his mouth as he wearily licked off the side of his muzzle, tasting dirt and grime amongst the semen. One was a good taste but the rest... The rest he could do without. The main concern of his body, however, was dragging breath back into his lungs in that dingy little back room that meant so little to most and so much to the dragon who had no idea, not even at that point, that it would be the last thing that he ever saw.

So much for grand endings.

Maybe he slipped in and out of consciousness but the next thing the dragon knew was that he was on his front, a body shoving his tail crudely up over his back and that cock finding its home in his tail hole again. Pyros grunted weakly but would no longer be able to make any sound at all as the gryphon's paws found his throat again, the pressure points that he'd tested initially and now went after with the ruthless vengeance of a predator on the hunt. And what better kill than another fur who should have, by all rights, been able to fight him off, hold his own, another predator in his own right?

The gryphon's breath rasped through his throat, hammering in roughly and viciously, the dragon's tail hole forced to bear him as he thrust down, paws pressing harder than before - much harder. Pyros gasped, lips moving soundlessly, but there was no respite to be had this time, his vision shaking and turning grey rapidly, the burn in his lungs simmering softly into the sensations tracing through the rest of his body, cheek pressed to the grit of the dirty floor, the linoleum peeling up in the corner.

What a thing to notice. A slamming thrust that seemed to want to pound him into the ground itself, drive him through. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't fight back. All he could do was moan without sound as his cock finally tensed and shot a load that would never be seen, crushed between his own stomach and the floor, a sticky load of seed driven out at the very pinnacle of climax in asphyxiation. The gryphon did not care, however, for whatever pleasure it was that the dragon experienced, the smallest of smiles on his lips as he slipped into decrepit unconsciousness, the light draining from his half-closed eyes. He was content with his end, even if it was before his time, but that did not stop the gryphon from huffing and hammering away, still bearing down on him as if he did not already realise that his task in well and truly snuffing out his cocky-assed victim was complete beyond all measure.

Pyros never felt that load of cum fill his tail hole, his tail limp and lifeless. And the gryphon left him there, a mess of sweat of cum and hide, to linger and stiffen, perhaps just sparing one last load to paint his muzzle and head before he went. It would be seen as a patron gone crazy, another rich bloke who'd taken things a little too far in his sexual lusts and desires, but the gryphon would be long, long gone before fingers were pointed. And, like every time that he'd taken one before, not a single finger would be pointed at him at the end of the game.

Breath snuffed out, the dragon's consciousness tumbled through darkness, forever trapped in a delectable cycle of playing out that final orgasm over and over again. Maybe it would last for eternity. Just who was to say?

They only found the body when the gryphon was but a fading memory.