Slake's Saga (2)

Okay, screw this. Let's show off some more of my OC, Slake the Oni! Though this time father, King Conquer seems to be hogging the spotlight . . . ?

Artwork by various artists. Hackneyed writing all by me! And as always, anything Slake related always appears on my Furaffinity profile first.

("Are You Sorry Yet?" by Miotoko)

"Are you sorry yet?"

The question was the same one his malevolent sire asked him every morning, typically right after hiking his naked and beefy body over the knee for his regular morning spanking. This morning was no exception. Slake bit back a cry as his father's hard palm bit down on his waiting ass.

"ARGH! Fuck you!"

Conquer chuckled and laid down further hard blows on that perfectly round blue rump.

"These long sessions of punishment can end any time you wish them to, Slake . . . You must merely concede you were wrong, and express your abject apologies," he told him with a smirk.

"NNGH!" Slake squirmed his muscular reddening cheeks. "The only thing I'm SORRY for is that I LOST, dammit!"

"Hahahah! I wonder how much longer you can keep up that defiance, my son . . . "

CRACK! WHACK! SPANK!

 ("Parting Gift" by Fastspeedy)

It was nearly the end of Slake's "100 Years of Punishment" for daring to lead a revolt against his lord father, the king Conquer. During that time he had faced endless humiliations. He had been spanked and paddled every day until his ass was as hot as a raging bonfire. He had been forced to lick his father's feet, as well as suck his father's massive red cock, so many times that he had lost count. He had been held in bondage for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like not to have ropes pinching his skin. And he was often tied by a leash right beside Conquer's throne as he received his guests just to make his defeat that much more acute.

But this would be the last day. By Oni law, because they were such a long-lived race, the maximum length of punishment that could be inflicted on any criminal was a full century. As high king, Conquer was honor-bound to uphold that law even if he might wish to keep his powerful son in chains forever.

That day, Conquer lead Slake by his ropes down to a dark room beneath the palace he'd never been to before. There, he smirked toothily as he reworked the bondage of his son. The new knotwork was a complicated one, almost more a work of art than a means of restraint, although Slake was still rendered as helpless as ever. The bound man grimaced as his father even tied up his heavy blue balls and the base of his cock, tying them to his ankles so he couldn't get up. He had to remain squatting like a dog.

"My son, our time together is almost at a close," Conquer told him with a smug smirk once this was accomplished. He stood over Slake holding a leash around his neck. "I feel like I've grown quite close to you this past century, as it fits a father to feel close to his own blood."

"Stuff it, you old bastard!" Slake growled out, flexing his muscles uselessly against the ropes binding him.

Conquer shook his head in mock-sadness. "Slake, my boy, after all these years and humiliations, you still fight me. Although I have forced you to beg for mercy and do whatever sordid task I asked of you numerous times, in your heart you have never truly been broken. Isn't that right?"

"You better believe it is . . . " Slake grumbled. The image of someday turning the tables on his father and making him suffer all the same humiliations he'd undergone had seen Slake through the long years.

"What do you plan to do on the morrow, when you feel freedom again for the first time?"

"Start gathering my old army back together. Lead them against you, and this time WIN!" Slake spat defiantly.

Conquer gave a long sigh at this. "Now that simply will not do . . . If you do this thing, you will simply be defeated once more, and then we must start your rehabilitation all over again. And, while that would be pleasurable for me in itself, I cannot have you turning this kingdom to chaos every hundred years."

"Like I care!"

"In that case, it is clear what I must do," Conquer said, turning away from him. Slake watched his red, muscular back as he began to chant and wave his arms in some manner of ritual, the runes of his horns starting to glow and illuminate the room. Before them suddenly swirled to life a glowing flash of colors, all streaming lights and whorling stars. It was a spectacle Slake had never seen before.

"What is that!" he shouted over the showering noise it emitted.

"It is a portal," Conquer answered, staring down at his son inscrutably. "If you will not give up this child's vendetta, I have no choice but to banish you from these lands. You will be sent to realms where you can wreak little mischief, never to return to your true home."

"WHAT?!" Slake gaped, eyes widening and struggling much harder now. "You can't do that! You can't, dammit!"

A cruel smirk passed Conquer's lips. "I am the king. I can do whatever I want." He bent down to whisper in Slake's ear, his hot breath tickling the younger man. "But don't worry. As your loving father, I'll bestow one last gift upon you to help curb that troublesome pride of yours."

He straightened and began to chant once more. The runes of his horns glowed even brighter, and this time the ropes binding Slake joined in. They emitted a golden light, and his body tingled in ways it never had before. "What . . . what're ya doing to me . . . !" Slake asked, wincing and jerking at the feeling.

"It is done!" Conquer announced. He let out a loud, hearty laugh, with his hands on his hips. "Congratulations, my boy! You are now a proud owner of the Captivitas Curse!"

"The WHAT!?"

But Slake did know what it was, of course. It was his father's specialty, and the way in which he'd gained so much power. Whenever a rival warlord had threatened him back during the Succession Wars, Conquer would battle them mercilessly before capturing them and unleashing this spell. It's effects held that as long as the man it was used upon was held in bondage or tied up in any way, he would begin to take sexual pleasure from it. In this way, it usually took no time at all for Conquer to turn his powerful rival warlords from defiant prisoners into willing bondage slaves, totally compliant to his wishes and swearing their allegiance to him. By doing this many times, he had increased his own army's might until he was unstoppable.

But to use such an ability on his own son . . . It was unthinkable! Monstrous! But to Slake's horror, he found the tingling sensation start to focus all in one region of himself: his blue manhood. The healthy rod, his pride and joy and symbol of his strength, grew seemingly of it's own power. Slake gaped down at it as it rose straight up into the air, sending pulses of pure pleasure throughout his body as he writhed and groaned in the ropes. "Aaaaughh!"

"Hahahah! Struggle all you like, brat!" Conquer said over his swaying erection. "As long as you're held captive by me or any other man, this is what you shall have to deal with!" He laughed again as Slake groaned, drops of pre-cum already pearling at his mushroom head. It was a more powerful arousal than Slake had ever experienced.

Slake, bound and now dealing with his own dick rebelling against him, was powerless to resist as Conquer hauled up on the leash, bringing him aloft.

"And now we say goodbye, my son. Enjoy yourself out there on the mortal plane. But I'd be sure to avoid capture if I were you . . . " And with one last mocking laugh, Slake found himself tossed into the portal, bound for realms unknown . . .

 ("Oni Overstuffed" by Soto)

During his following, interminable wanderings, Slake falls prey to a cluster of horny tentacle creatures!

Back in his homeland, tentacles are one of the Oni's few natural predators. Unable to reproduce on their own, the tentacles require sperm "harvested" from captured males, and Oni sperm produces the strongest offspring. Things seem to operate the same on this world as well, as the tentacles seem quite taken with our blue hunk.

Though he fights back hard, their superior numbers undermine Slake's chances, as well as the fact that the tentacles' motives are to simply temporarily subdue, rather than permanently defeat, him. He's soon held in the tight embrace of their slavering coils and his fundoshi removed. He then suffers the indignity of having both ends of him stuffed at once while he struggles, squirms, flexes, and moans around the invaders. If only he could call upon his true strength as an Oni he could easily break free and destroy them--but, banished as he is, he's unable to truly draw upon his homeland's power. He can only console himself with the knowledge that, once they tire of  forcing him to be their helpless plaything and fucktoy, the tentacles will eventually release him . . . At least, hopefully . . .

("In Slake's Dreams" by Rubensum)

Taking a short nap from an exhaustive and determined search for a way back to his homeland, Slake experiences a pleasant dream about finally getting payback on his old man like he's always wanted . . .

("Lord of Embers" by Pockyrumz)

The hot winds of a cracked and blistered earth assailed the Demon King as he surveyed his domain. It was an impossible task of course, even for him. Never before in the history of all Oni had a lord commanded such a great swath of territory as he did now. A yatagarasu could fly for over a year and still not touch the edge of his influence.

At his birth, spawned from the heat and ashes of an erupting volcano, he had been dubbed ‘Conquer’. For many Oni, their names were obtuse and foolish, the meanings not uncovered until millennia after their death, if even then. For Conquer, he had assigned his own meaning and set out to forge a kingdom.

With the aid of strength, cunning, mercilessness, and a talent for sorcery, all challengers fell before him, remade into slaves who whimpered to follow his every command. It was only right that they do so. He was their king, and devotion was his right. It elevated him, it empowered him, it glorified him, and, eventually, it even . . .

. . . bored him.

What was left for a conquerer, once he had conquered? What was left for the man who reveled in victory, once he had defeated every opponent until there were none left to fight? The only opponents he had now were weaklings, snakes who hid in the shadows, cowards who sought to wrest control from him through indirect means. He squashed them brutally. None of them were worthy of his title. None were worthy of his dominion. Only . . .

Slake.

That foolish and hotheaded spawn of his loins was the only one who had sought to directly challenge him despite the odds. Who had continued to fight him, even after his inevitable defeat and capture. It had delighted Conquer in all ways. For the first time in eons he had a real challenge. He had set out to nurture that defiant aspect in his offspring. To push him further and further, to see just how far he could be taken. The need for power was so strong in Slake. Just as strong as it had been in his father.

Perhaps he . . . was the one who could someday inherit this kingdom.

But only if he became stronger. So much stronger. And he could not do that here in Conquer’s shadow. Only cast out into the spinning void could he make his mark, test himself. There he could make friends, enemies, fight his own battles and his own crusades. And on his return, well, who could say . . . ?

The Demon King known as Conquer looked over his kingdom and smiled, waiting for the day his son would return home.