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The Lion's Cult

For FyacinTia

Inspired by Cult of the Lamb

By Draconicon

Fyacin knew that his master had many small cults across the land. Some were located in forest clearings, others on high mountains, but his little chunk of the greater cult had taken residence on a plain. A savannah, more accurately, though the lion was certainly keen on making something more than that for himself out here. It would take time, of course, and more than a little work, but it would happen eventually. He was sure of it.

The tawny-furred feline leaned against the statue of himself that lurched out of the center of the cultist camp, looking upward to see his own dick carved out of stone hanging a few feet overhead. It was, of course, rather larger than what lay between his legs, but that was more a matter of proportions rather than any personal failings on his part. He chuckled, his tail twitching behind his back as he imagined reaching up and batting at it like he would any dangling bit of string or such things.

He squashed the idea, of course. Such behaviors were fine for cats, but he was a lion, and more than that, he was the leader of this little collection of cultists, as the rings upon his toes and the tight Crown of Claws around his head marked him. Of anyone there, he had to keep proper behavior, or they would all descend into mad hedonism.

Not that we don't do that anyway, he thought, glancing to his left as one of his followers -

My followers, my pretty lion.

The deeper voice echoed through his head, sending a rumbling thrill through him. He bit off a sigh as a giraffe fell to his knees at his left. As the other male pulled his loincloth to the side, gripping his cock in adoration of the lion statue before him and whispering words of praise, the other voice continued whispering in Fyacin's head.

They adore you, but you know where they get it from.

Yes, master. I know.

But you would not be here without my blessing...and I would not give my blessing to one that did not please me.

The lion smiled. Anyone else might have made him feel ill-suited to be leader of the cult with comments like that, but whenever his master touched his mind, he was reminded that he had earned this position. How, precisely, was never actually addressed, but he knew that he had earned it. To be reminded that his master was pleased with him was enough, most days.

Come to me. Deliver their adoration properly.

Fyacin shivered, but his cock rose beneath his loincloth at the command. This was one of the more standard commands to come from his distant master, and it was always pleasurable to obey.

He stepped away from the massive statue - three times his own height and looming over the cultist compound - as the giraffe continued to jerk himself off to the statue. As he walked away, he heard the prayer that the long-necked cultist was whispering.

"Bless us, follower of the deeply depraved. Bless us, oh master of the marvelous. Bless us, oh he who dances through hearts and hedonistic bliss..."

And so on it went, and the lion smiled as he reveled in the praise and happiness that was so obvious in the giraffe's voice. They wanted to be here, and they made it clear that they wanted him just as much.

It had been a hell of a shift, moving from the civilized world to this place. He still wasn't entirely sure how it had happened; he'd been kidnapped from his work as an engineer one day, woken up in a warehouse, and had been strapped down as four robed figures looked over what had very obviously been some sort of execution. There'd been a needle in his neck and then, nothing.

He didn't know what had happened after that. He didn't even know if he was dead or if it had all been a dream, but he knew that there had been something to seize him and pull him back from his old life to this new one. What that something was, he wasn't entirely sure, but he knew that it had a name.

The Dragon Abroad.

Fyacin shivered just thinking of his master's name as he walked across the bare earth of the cultist compound, other cultists popping in and out of vision as they walked along between the planting areas to the sleeping tents to the cooking fires. They were all dressed in little more than loincloths, most of them 'rescued' from the strange In-Betweens, the lands that he had been sent to time and time again to gather more to serve the Dragon Abroad. Many of them were of a similar species that he would have expected to find on the Savannah, with many giraffes, elephants, other lions, but there were others, species that had to have been from lands far away, that were found in the In-Betweens, and they had come just as readily as the others.

The lion imagined that there was something in the crown and rings that the master had given him. He'd always had something of a magnetic personality, but ever since being rescued and given this role, he'd been all but irresistible.

Smack.

Proven by the fact that one of the hyenas walking by just slapped his ass. He chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at the thick-assed male, returning to slap with one of his own. The hyena yelped, and Fyacin laughed.

"Touch not, lest ye be touched in turn."

"Mmm, can't you touch me deeper, master?"

"Mmm, shake that ass a bit more for me, and I'll consider it."

"Thank you, oh thank you."

"And make sure that you pick up that footwork. Your dance last week could use a little more...elegance."

"What's that?"

"Heh, come to my tent later, and I'll show you."

The hyena all but glowed with anticipation, and Fyacin laughed as he turned back to his destination.

While there were many different buildings that had been constructed by the cult members, the Church was the first of them, and the one that he had built himself. He didn't know how he'd managed to raise a structure that was taller than any of the other buildings - including the central statue, somehow - all on his own, but he imagined that the Crown of Claws and the other enchantments of his master had helped in the process. It loomed like a great golden-red thing of twisted nature, with black pillars supporting the front and sides and a great white-eyed dragon head overseeing the front door, looking down on all those that entered.

As he approached, the eyes seemed to glow as if to welcome him, and he blushed ever so slightly at the hunger in them. He had never, ever had someone that would have looked at him like that in his previous life, but here -

"Master."

Fyacin stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel. He paused, looked down a half-inch, and found himself staring into Theresa's bright green eyes.

The cougar was one of those that had been atypical in the In-Betweens, one of those that had to have been drawn from a different part of the world than this one. She had a lush brown coat that she showed off shamelessly, her eyes as warm and bright as any cat's, with a fierceness and sharpness that always seemed all the keener when she looked at him. Every time he looked at her, he couldn't help but see the hardness in her limbs and the soft bulge of the muscles along her sides and stomach as she moved.

Such as she was doing now, marching right up to him, her small breasts heaving as she reached out and grabbed him over his loincloth, seizing him by the balls.

"I need you, Master."

"Mmmph. Do you, Theresa? I could have sworn that I sated you just this morning," he said with a lick of his lips, the taste of her sex still delightful on his tongue.

"With your mouth, yes. But master, please, I desire the taste of you, as well."

The taste of him. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Such was the nature of his followers, he knew; they were always eager for the chance to do something with him, whether that be to bend over or to have him bent over for them, whether that was to tease him with their fingers and tongues or to present themselves for his pleasure. They were bound to him, devoted to him, and their dripping juices declared that loyalty again and again.

There were days when he wondered if he had become part incubus, taking his pleasure and power from such things, but he did not question it much. He felt, at times, that if he questioned it overmuch, his praise would fade.

So, he took her hand, smiling.

"You wish to taste me?"

"And more."

"Oh? How much more, my lovely cougar?"

"In every way..."

She flicked his loincloth up, tracing a finger along his sheath, pulling it right to the tip where the barbs were just starting to slide from his sheath. She smiled at him, leaning in to nibble his neck, and he hissed despite himself in pleasure.

"I want you...completely..."

"Mmmph..."

"Right now. Right here."

"Mmm...then go on...Show me how -"

Theresa had always been one to suit words to action, and she was on her knees and sucking him off almost before he knew that she had shifted. He gasped for breath, his eyes rolling back in his sockets as he felt her lips working along his cock, going to the head and then down to the base in one smooth motion.

His tail went up and he almost went up on his tiptoes before the cougar had his hips in her hands, gripping him tightly and forcing herself up and down along his cock, sucking, licking, teasing along the underside with rapid swishes of her tongue. She tilted her head going up, going down, always finding a way to keep her lips tight and her jaws wide, allowing his rising cock to stroke against the insides of her cheeks without touching her teeth.

It didn't take long for her expert ministrations to bring him to a full, throbbing erection, and he bit back the undignified gasps that threatened to leap from his throat as she kept sucking away, her lips going right to the base and then pulling back to the tip. Her tongue was always active, flicking either against the underside of his shaft or along the head, teasing in circles along the tip and driving him up the wall.

"Mmmph...mmmph..."

He didn't trust himself to do more than groan in pleasure. The little whimpers of bliss that he usually reserved for someone fucking him - or for the altar within the Church - were threatening to come free as she bobbed down again, her chin grinding gently into the top of his sac before she pulled her head back again. She was voracious, her eyes closed tight as she reached the bottom of his cock and moaned for him, only to open her eyes when she pulled back to the tip, looking him right in the eyes and holding it as if daring him to try and take control of her.

He didn't. Oh, he could have. She loved him too much to not let him if he really wanted it, but there was something about her like this, something about the way that she so utterly hungered for him that would be spoiled if he took control. He liked the feeling of her showing it, of -

"Ah..."

Fyacin gasped as she bobbed down again, deepthroating him, taking the entirety of his cock down her throat and grinding her chin gently against his sac. He rested his hands on her head but had no illusion of being in control, not when she was swallowing so hard, voraciously milking his dick with everything that she had. Her fingers crept along his hips, moving back and then -

"Nnngh!"

The lion's cock jumped in her throat as she slid one finger past his pucker, sliding it in and rubbing -

Oh, god.

Yes?

Nnngh...

Heh. Ah, I see. I bless you with stamina, my lion...cum, and cum again.

That wasn't what he meant, but -

Another finger in, two of them rubbing right over that little bump. Fyacin groaned, arching his back, his hips thrusting helplessly against the cougar's face, and she pressed down firmly just as she clenched her throat tight around his cock.

The lion roared as he came, spilling his load down her throat at a record pace. From start to finish, it had been no more than forty-five seconds, and Theresa pulled her head back to his tip to swallow there. Her tongue flicked over his tip again and again, teasing that she might hold it there and keep his seed in his cock, only to pull it back and encourage it to flow. Her torturous licks flicked against the underside, right below the head, while her thumb rubbed along the bulging underside of his cock, grinding all that seed right out of him.

Pulse.

Squirt.

Pulse.

Squirt.

And then, it was done...and he was still hard.

Theresa pulled her head back, smiling up at him as she kept her mouth open. She dabbed his cock against her tongue, making sure that he could see every stray strand of his seed in her mouth. As she wiped the tip clean against the tip of that pink thing, his breath caught in his throat and a low growl began to rise from his chest.

The moment she swallowed, he knew that he needed one more. She chuckled as he grabbed her by the arms, pulling her to her feet.

"Master, may I serve you further?" she teased.

"You will."

"Oh, good. Please - ah!"

He spun her, taking her to the Church and holding her against one of the black pillars. It took no more than a gesture to call on his master, and dark chains ran down the pillar's side, grasping her arms and pulling them up. She turned - so like a cat, to tease its fate - and allowed her arms to be twisted over her head, lifting her legs in the process. Her loincloth fell over her sex, sticking to it from the sheer bounty of her juices flowing free, and she grinned at him.

"Come. Take me, master. Let me drench you in my devotion."

From others, such a promise might have sounded silly. From her, dangling from her chains and smiling, almost smirking, knowing that she craved him more than anyone else to the point that her sex was flooded with her own juices and anticipation? It was enough to leave him growling like some feral beast, his cock harder than it had been...

Well, in hours, truthfully. It was hard not to get erect around so many horny cultists, all of which looked at him and treated him like the coming of heaven.

He flicked her loincloth out of the way, some of her juices splashing against him as he stepped forward, and barely felt her heat before he was inside of her. She moaned for him, he moaned for her, and they got to it as her legs wrapped around him.

In, out, in, out, the rut already hitting him and driving him into a deep fuck. In, out, in, out, his hips bucking like mad as Theresa slumped against the chains, her shoulders thumping against the pillar as she was taken. He slammed in faster than he had to, choosing to go further, harder, driving the breath from her lungs as she mouthed teases that she no longer had the air to say.

He grinned; there was some satisfaction in dominating someone so thoroughly.

Already, he could feel her inner walls spasming against him, squeezing down on his cock as he worked himself in and out, faster and faster, his balls slapping against her ass as he went worked himself into a frenzy. Her juices rolled down her taint, over her ass, against his balls, and he growled as he leaned in, biting against her neck.

"Ah!"

Her soft gasp took all the air she had, and she panted against his neck as she strained to press against him. Her feet pressed against the small of his back, helping to drive him in, keeping him from easily pulling out. The clack-clatter of the chains against the pillar would likely be pulling all the other cultists in to watch, to see what the cougar was getting and envy at what she received, and that only made him harder. Hornier. Needier.

"Mine..."

There was that word, and it always came out deeper, throatier when he was in the grip of this rut. He never knew if it was him saying it or the Dragon Abroad, but it always came through with a deep conviction.

"Mine."

Fyacin humped away, his eyes closed tight as the cougar mewled like a horny kitten, taking his cock again and again as he rammed into her, filling her to the brim before pulling out again. Her inner walls were spasming, an orgasm overcoming her, but he couldn't stop. He just kept going, flashes of light against his eyelids reminding him that there were others moving around him, shifting in and out of the lines of light. They were watching, staring, and he put on a hell of a show.

He growled a little louder, biting down on her neck, holding her with his teeth, and Theresa moaned, tilting her head to the side. He felt the hands of other cultists all over him, touching him, squeezing him, whispered words coming to him from all sides.

"So sexy..."

"Our master..."

"His cock...so powerful..."

"I want him..."

"I need him..."

"Please, me next..."

"Bless me..."

"Fill me..."

"Master..."

"Master..."

"Master..."

They all wanted him, all needed him. He groaned as he felt one of them rubbing his ass, helping to push him in faster, while others reached over his chest, tweaking his nipples, and others kissed along his thighs, and even over the steel rings on his toes. They were all over him, all around him, desperate, horny, needy.

Theresa moaned again, whispering with what little air he allowed her as he humped away.

"Master...please...fill me...fill me...fill me up..."

For all the teasing she had given him, he wanted to tell her that he would take her for as long as he wanted, that he would use her as a little slut for as long as he cared to, but there was one little problem with that.

The Master had taken his blessing away.

The moment that the power of the Dragon Abroad's stamina was pulled from him, Fyacin felt his balls jumping. His rhythm, as powerful as it was fast, suddenly went off-beat, and he gasped as he rammed in up to the hilt and came right then and there. His cock spasmed as his balls pulled up, tight against his groin, and he felt tongue after tongue follow them there, licking over the suddenly spasming, suddenly clenching orbs as he delivered his seed unto the eager slut beneath him.

Theresa, for her part, moaned happily as he pulled out, and he panted as he dragged himself back against her legs. She tried to keep him close, but several orgasms had weakened her muscles - if only slightly - and it was enough for him to pull back. He ran his fingers through his mane, shaking his head as the rest of the cult stared at him hungrily.

"The rest of you will receive abundant blessings later," he said with a grin that was only half-forced, his breath coming in short pants. "Now, away with you. There's work to be done, and I am not doing it."

"Mmmph..."

"Go on, go on. The most productive of you gets me first."

That was always the best incentive, and this was no different. They ran off, all eagerly picking up a rake or a hoe, a broom or a hammer, and they got to work clearing ground or building new projects or cleaning up. He chuckled, shaking his head; there was never a clear way to tell who had done the most, so it would be the same as it always was at the end of the day. His libido would pick the first choice, the Dragon Abroad the second, and then they would just go down whatever line the cult picked out for itself.

But for now -

I am due your devotion, my pretty thing.

"Yes, yes, Master..."

Fyacin ducked his head beneath the dragon's face over the door. Despite the fact that it was a good ten feet higher than him, despite the fact that the doors were so huge that they really didn't need to be ducked under by any of the species in the cult, he found himself unable to resist. There was something about the eyes of the dragon, something in the way that they measured him that made a bow, however slight, all but required.

Once inside, he shut the doors behind him. Often, he would invite the rest of the cult in for a 'sermon' - really, just a dirty-talk prelude to an orgy, most of the time - but this time, he needed to be alone. His communion with the Dragon Abroad was better done in the darkness and privacy of the Church without an audience.

He walked down the center of the one-room building, thankful for the one bit of cloth that they had to adorn the floor as it soothed his tired feet. The layers of glass and thinned-out hide cast various colors of shadows and light across the floor, ranging from a dull yellow-brown to a deep red depending on where one looked. They all guided one through a kaleidoscope of shades that felt as if there were portals to different realms and planes on either side of the carpet, waiting to swallow one up.

As he approached the altar, he looked at the idol that the rest of the cult saw every day. It was a simple thing, one of a lion with arms outstretched with a white-eyed dragon head looking down on him. It was the same thing that most of them worshiped, a rendition of him beneath the greater beast that he channeled, a prophet before the greater power.

It was quite fake, of course. They were more willing to believe that he was an ascended mortal rather than the truth. They would have had a far harder time believing that he was a slave to the Dragon Abroad.

He gently nudged the idol aside, pulling at the panel beneath it. Within was the true idol, and that which he used to commune with his master.

It was a dildo, and there was no getting around that, but it was a majestic dildo, one that stood tall and proud and made him shiver as he compared it to his own masculinity. There was nothing wrong with what he had - and he had more than sufficient size to work with - but as he stood with his cock against the monolith of black inches, nearly fourteen long and three wide, he couldn't help but feel small in comparison.

Not in a bad way, necessarily, but certainly in one that was impossible to deny.

He leaned his hips forward, dragging his cock against the darker idol, and he felt the throbbing that he always did when he came into contact with it. A powerful tingle ran down his spine, sending shivers through his nethers, and his pucker clenched hard as he imagined what it would feel like inside of him.

Kneel before me, my lion.

"Mmmph..."

Fyacin fell to his knees, as ordered, staring up at the monolith of a cock. He leaned forward, his lips pressing against the fake balls, and heard the dull rumble of pleasure in the back of his head.

Yes...just like that...give me your devotion...and theirs...

As he licked up the orbs, he felt the power that had come to him through the week, the sheer pleasure of the various experiences that he'd had with the cult. Theresa's morning greetings to his cock followed by his to her pussy; the elephant that came to him at every lunch to worship his ass; the hyena that begged for the chance to fuck him, only to break down in their dance and bend over to spread his cheeks for the right to take it; the other hyena, her clit-cock sliding between his cheeks and filling him to the brim.

All those experiences came to him as memory that burned and seared and pleased him afresh, making him moan, making him throb with excitement. Just as they teased themselves to him at the great statue, he teased himself before the cock idol, licking from the smooth base towards the tip, feeling the stone warming with each lick. It was not just his touch, either; his master could feel him, and he could feel the heat of the master through the stone.

"Mmmph...mmmph..."

He told himself that it was just part of the transaction, that he passed his pleasure on to the master and was given pleasure and power in return. He told himself that the devotion of the cult was all that he needed, that this was just something where magic made him think that it was better.

He knew that he was lying to himself. He knew that this was where he belonged, just as much as he knew that he deserved the praise. This...this was where he lived.

Lick, lap, lick, lap went his tongue, and the more that he teased, the harder his cock got from the action. He shivered as he brought his hands to his shaft, no longer holding the idol as he milked his cock, one finger over the tip and the rest teasing along the rest of his shaft. Stroke, stroke, stroke, the silky pre-cum coming faster than was natural and spilling along the rest of his shaft.

"Mmmph..."

Bring it forth...show me your devotion...your need for me...become the channel of the cult for me...

"Mmm..."

He moaned as he leaned his head up, finally reaching the tip and pulling it past his lips. It was so thick, and he swore that there must have been some supernatural help to allow him to take it past his lips as he worked upward. Lick, lap, lick, dragging his tongue along the head and then pulling it into his throat. All the times that he had spent between the legs of other males in the cult stood him in good stead at first, but even the elephants only had so much length, and he descended to those depths all too quickly.

"Mmph...mmmph..."

Almost there, my pretty lion...take it a little more...show me...prove to me that your devotion is deserving of my favor.

"Mmph!"

Fyacin finally popped the last two inches into his neck, his head feeling like it was going to be stuck there from the sheer girth so far down his neck. He wheezed through his nose, feeling like he was going to lose his mind, and yet, there was a pleasure that rumbled through his skull. It was a mix of a chortle and a moan, and a ghostly touch stroked the back of his head, running through his trimmed-down mane and making him want to mewl like a kitten.

Good...good...

"Mmmm..."

Now...pull back...and ride...

It took more effort than he expected to drag his throat off the dildo, and the slippery sheen that his spit left behind was...sexier than he expected. His cheeks were red, but his cock was hard, and his tail was high as he pulled himself to his feet, climbing onto the stone altar and turning around. He rested the shaft between his cheeks, breathing slowly as he tried to get himself more comfortable.

Not like that. You know the proper posture...

Fyacin groaned, but shifted his position. No longer kneeling, but squatting, his toes sliding just barely past the edge of the altar and curling to keep his balance, his legs spread to show off his dangling balls and his hard-on. His pucker clenched as he lifted himself over the thick shaft, his hole barely ready for this, but he could feel the hunger burning inside...and he could feel a ghostly touch at the tip of his cock, as if some ancient, powerful hand had reached from the ether to touch him.

Ride...I demand it...as I demand you...

The lion dropped, taking half that shaft in one go, and his cock lurched up, veins popping on either side of it at the sheer pleasure of being filled. His breath was all but punched out of his lungs as he took it, his eyes rolling back and his mouth hanging open.

"Ah...ah..."

Yes, that's it...a little faster...a little further...

His body obeyed the Dragon Abroad in the absence of his own thoughts, his hips rolling back and down, then forward and up, taking one inch after another, feeling as if the shaft was all but clawing its way into his depths. Yet, the sheer size of it brought no pain, despite the way that it outclassed all other cocks in the cult. Instead, it brought...bliss. The sheer weight of the thick stone dildo grinding against his prostate, in all its unforgiving, unremitting pressure, was enough to keep him dribbling, raining his juices upon the altar. He felt each little tingle, each little rolling flow of fluid running up his cock, making him all the more aware of it, his sac, and his ass.

Oh, his ass. Oh, it felt...so good. Even Theresa's clenching walls were nothing compared to this, to the feeling of the master's cock inside of him.

A ghostly aura descended around him, like hands on his hips, like a head on his shoulder, the warm shadow of a breath against his cheek as the voice whispered in his head. The master was all but there, taking it, enjoying him as he enjoyed that.

The gifts of your devotion are yours...power...strength...magic...and pleasure.

"Nnngh...Master...you...you give...you..."

Speak your worship when you finish, so I can hear it properly. For now...ride...and please us both.

The lion nodded, focusing all of his attention on his ass and the feeling of punching it deeper into his guts. Bit by bit, his rump lowered, coming closer and closer to the altar itself, and his shaft dripped and spat upon the floor and the altar itself. He could think of little more than that cock and the dragon that it belonged to, his breath coming faster and faster as he sank upon it.

He belonged to the dragon, he knew that. The whole world would, eventually, once they cleared the In-Betweens and found those that had tried to kill him. The master had promised that they would spread this pleasure to the world, dragging it into hedonism and bliss. Perhaps he would fall, becoming nothing more than one of his followers rather than a leader as he was now.

If it felt this good...he didn't know if he'd mind that much.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

And then, down. All the way down on that inflexible, rigid thing, taking fourteen inches of girthy, warm, stone cock all the way into him. His eyes went wide, his breath was punched from his lungs, and he wheezed as he came. Streaks of white flowed from his cock, squirting forward, falling almost to the floor...only to be swept away, pulled into the ether, disappearing even as he drained his balls for his master.

And the Dragon Abroad smiled, a hint of a kiss on the lion's neck followed by a slow stroke of his cock.

Again, my pretty thing...again.

"Yes...master..."

The End

Summary: Fyacin is leading a different version of the Cult of the Lamb, sponsored not by the One Who Waits, but by the Dragon Abroad. And it is far more lusty.

Tags: M/solo, M/M, M/F, Cougar, Hyena, Giraffe, Lion, Dragon, Cult, Cult of the Lamb, Cult of the Lamb Inspired, Worship, Vaginal, Oral, Blowjob, Fingering, Anal, Toy, Orgasm, Cum, Devotion,