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ID
131751
MD5
465f6bd20dabd8487a3f3b1991f7078b
Size
2808x3513 (12.4 MB)
Type
PNG
Status
Active
Rating
Explicit
Score
114
Faves
186 Show

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directed by notte
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Description

The Bath

"The Bull" arrived at the castle bound in chains that caught the torchlight like pale gold. The guards led him through the gatehouse, hooves clattering over stone. His body was massive, a mountain of white fur and muscle, his horns polished to a dull sheen.

He smelled of the long road, of sweat, dust, and leather. The guards turned him over to the servants, a small cadre of lean-bodied jackals and lynxes, their fur short and neat beneath rough linen. They bowed to the steward, who spoke curtly: "Wash him. Prepare him. The princes expect no less."

They led the bull to the washroom, a vaulted chamber of stone, marble and steam. The bull stood still as they unchained him. Water sloshed, warm and scented faintly of herbs. One jackal poured it slowly over his back, watching the way it beaded and rolled through his fur, tracing the ridges of muscle along his shoulders. Another knelt, hands trembling as he took a cloth to The Bull’s thighs. The air thickened with the sound of dripping water and breath.

The Bull closed his eyes. He could feel their hands moving over him: hesitant at first, then sure. They washed his chest, his belly... When the first servant brushed it, the Bull exhaled through his nostrils, a long, low sound that rumbled in the tiles.

One jackal glanced at another, then reached out, cupping the bull’s heavy balls in both palms. They were warm, firm, pendulous, covered in short fur. He rolled them gently, washing the skin beneath with small circular strokes. Another knelt beside him, cleaning the thick root of the bull’s cock. It hung full and heavy, stirring at the touch, twitching when warm water hit the sensitive head. The lynx worked slowly, running the cloth from tip to base, the slick sound of it soft but constant.

The Bull’s tail flicked once. His breath grew rough. His cock thickened in their hands until it stood proud, glistening with water. One of the servants swallowed hard but kept working, his paw tracing along the underside, feeling the pulse there. The beast rumbled again, low and deep, like distant thunder.

Behind him, the jackal with the bucket hesitated, eyes drawn to the curve of the bull’s rear. The fur there was short, the muscle beneath taut and broad. He knelt lower, spreading his cheeks with careful strength. The sight made his ears flatten, his own breath catching. He dipped his cloth in water and began to clean. The Bull’s hole winked under the touch, a ring that flexed with each stroke. The servant worked with focus, washing between and around, rubbing slow circles until the Bull grunted, shifting his stance.

"Careful!" one jackal murmured, voice barely audible.

"I think he likes it" the lynx said, though his voice trembled.

The Bull opened his eyes and looked down at them, the ice in his gaze hot and steady. He said nothing, only watched as they continued. His cock throbbed against his belly, the veins standing out beneath the skin. His balls shifted in the jackal’s hands as he lifted them, rinsing them clean, his fur brushing the tender skin beneath.

Steam curled around them. Water dripped from the bull’s body, darkening the stone at his hooves. The servants worked until he gleamed: his fur slick, his scent sharper, musky and clean all at once. When they stepped back, panting, their chests rose and fell together. The Bull stood in silence, cock still half-hard, eyes unreadable.

One jackal broke the quiet. "He’s ready" he said, though his voice carried the weight of something else.

The Bull’s ears twitched. His nostrils flared as he breathed them in their fear, their arousal, the faint salt of sweat. He smiled then, a slow curl of the mouth, his eyes sweetening.

"Thank you" he said, his voice hinting gratitude. The servants lowered their heads, but none moved away. The Bull’s gaze swept over them all, lingering. Then he turned toward the doors that led deeper into the castle, his hooves echoing softly against the stone.

Behind him, the servants stood still, their paws wet, their hearts pounding. The scent of the beast lingered in the steam, clinging to them.

Blacklisted
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