So happy togetherrrrr~ Dun Dun dun dun dodlido ba di daaaaa! bumbum Bum Buuuuuuum~

Life after your enslavement is all but idyllic. Ideally you would be free, but beyond that simple fact you feel as if you are living the dream.

Sure, it's a little hard to run your -you mean His- tavern when Bjor is around, forcing you to act like his horny little sex kitten in front of the rest of the tavern customers. But he has hired a local farmhand to watch the bar and generally help out around the place when you're otherwise occupied so it's no problem if you spend the busiest nights of the week glued to your Master's cock, helplessly spurting cum out of your diminutive dick for the amusement of a raucous crowd.

Renewed by the century of vitality stolen from you through your **** collar, Bjor has been reinvigorated in his love for lumberjacking. He regularly heads out into the mountain to return up to a week later, riding monstrous logs down the river to fuel the bustling industry growing around you. This is often followed by him spending his days working in the sawmill before returning to you at the Revelers rest every sundown and having you clean his sweaty body with your tongue. These nights typically end with him pounding you into your, well his, bed, and then collapsing on you without pulling out, sleeping on top of you and unconsciously thrusting his half erect cock deeper into your welcoming back door all throughout the night.

Your body feels overly sensitive, and you are always at least a little horny. Checking your reflection in a mirror, you swear that you have gotten more feminine. Your ass certainly wasn't that big before. But whether this is from all that minotaur cum you ingested or your magical collar reshaping your body to your master's preferences is unknown.

Time passes and more people come to your town. By early autumn the population has nearly doubled and Bjor had to quickly build a couple new rooms onto the tavern.

Once a month, Master sits down with you to go over your book-keeping and check your earnings. This involves you giving every hard-earned coin to your Master as he makes you count it out and masturbates at the table. The smell of his cock, even stronger to you since the collar went on, always causes you to make mistakes in the counting.

"You said 14 twice again," Bjor taunts, "Start over, kitten." You're not even sure if you did say it twice or not, all you can focus on is that fat veiny cock, its head wobbling vigorously as he rubs his shaft. You sigh and get back to counting, taking a deep breath that once again blanks your mind. Soon, he's fucking you on the table, the money you earned him scattered underneath you as you sense his arousal through your mental link. He loves how much of a silly, trusting pushover you turned out to be. He loves that every piece of gold or silver you earn goes straight into his pocket, and due to the collar, so do you.

"Income is lookin' a little light this week." Bjor grunts between thrusts. "Are you sure you aren't holding anything back from me?"

"No Master, I would never!" You reply, feeling the collar draw out the perfect response from your own already subservient nature. "This isn't my money anyway. I'm just your possession."

"Damn right." Master says, getting closer and closer to unloading in you.

"I love being your ****! I promise I that I'll work very hard for you this month!" The feedback of your master's pending orgasm pushes you over the edge, causing your insides to spasm around his fat bitch-breaker.

He stuffs you full of cum before picking you up off the table without pulling out. You drape your limbs around him to lessen the burden on your hole as he walk-fucks you to the tavern bedroom. That night, guests are privy to the sounds of him pounding you into a cummy mess for hours.

You start to think that this is your true place in life. You enjoy this man so much and he loves owning you as his hot little ****. Free you might not be, particularly now as you're trapped under a mountain of sweaty muscle and cock at the moment, but you couldn't be happier.

"Get some rest, Kitten. We have an appointment tomorrow."