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This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
Bound for His Birthday
Tipsily, perhaps drunkenly, the coyote stumbled down the street, bumping lightly into lampposts with the taste of too many drinks on his breath. It had been a good birthday at his favourite haunt – in that city, at least, that was. The Shepsisters (and now him too) owned property all over the world and the sleepy little hamlet in England boasted a surprisingly good pub for those of the tourist ilk.
It was where his friends had congregated from his time working as an assassin, everyone with all the same smiles and scars that he remembered. Although it had not been the best of work – the Shepsisters and their association were, oddly, more ethical by far – it was good to see everyone again and celebrate the turning of another year, even if it only really had due significance to him. But, then again, they shouldn’t have really needed to make up an excuse to get together, even if that was the going way of a duly busy world.
Chuckling lightly to himself, the coyote leaned against a lamppost, staring up at the night sky, which seemed to hold so many more stars in it than the world of cities and daring adventures that he was used to. The only time that he’d been able to see so many stars had been out in the desert or out on a ship in the middle of the ocean, although that had been an entirely different matter altogether with stars painted across the entire sky as if by an artist’s brush.
He sighed. Those had been the times. But his life now was a different type of good than that time and one that he most certainly would not give up without one hell of a fight. The ring on his finger spoke of that tale and he smiled softly, pushing off the lamppost as he meandered along his way.
There was a little place… A B&B. That was where he was trying to get to. But each step came with greater and greater effort, seeming to hold him back as if he was moving through sludge, until he could do no more than crumple to the ground on his knees. He hit hard and yet didn’t feel the impact, still smiling as he blacked out, the stars spinning and spinning and spinning until their white light became a singular blur, taking over the darkness even as he slipped into it.
It was a good time.
He should have been more used to waking up in unknown locations than he was, starting all the same as he rose back to wakefulness with a shudder, a thick, acrid smell heavy in his nose. What had happened? Naked… He groaned, rolling his head from one shoulder to the other as he lay on the floor, trussed up with his paws against his sides and ankles together. His shaft, of course, was not on show but that was only a single small blessing as his furred balls were left exposed. Lying on his back, he couldn’t even tuck his tail down to protect himself but that was by the by as he clenched his teeth, trying to work out the pain from the side of his jaw. Maybe he’d hit it when he fell? There would be no way to tell as the scene played out before him.
“Oh, good…” The femfur’s voice dripped with saccharine sweetness. “You are finally awake.”
Awake but not quite yet with his senses, whimpering as he realised that he could not open his mouth, a roll of rope tight around his snout. Trembling back, his mind warred with the notion that it may, just possibly, not be a ruse and things may have gone south at long last. What if the Shepsisters had been captured? What if he was going to be tortured for information? Was Dora okay?
Growling and snapping against the gag, he strained and fought, though only succeeded in rolling himself awkwardly from side to side, which was neither effective nor the most dignified of positions. The room, at least, wherever he was, was clean and dry, which either meant that things were better than expected or far, far worse.
But words could not be forthcoming as someone walked around him, the tap of high heels clicking anxiously across a smooth floor. He trembled. Linoleum. That would be easy to clean up. Cheap to replace too. Easy to hide any remains of his blood in preparation for the next victim.
“Tackled and tied up…” A crooning voice mocked, seeming to come from very high above him. “Aren’t you sick of this yet, Yote? Oh, but we already know what you like and what you’re looking for her, what your heart truly craves…”
Oh, he knew that voice. The coyote relaxed marginally, though still cocked one ear suspiciously as he awaited the next word, tail pulled down as tightly against his buttocks as he possibly could draw it. It was not his lover and mistress who spoke (sadly) but, where that voice was, there was surely Marmaris Escort someone else there too – a special someone who was very close to his heart indeed.
Blinking rapidly, he strove to clear the fog from his vision – did they really have to hit him so hard in knocking him out? Or had it been a gas of sorts? – the Shepsisters standing before him with twin, maniacal grins. The German Shepherds were obviously related, although one was a brunette while the other was his gorgeously devious blonde, but they could not have looked more alike than they did in matching costumes, for no police had ever dressed like Dora and Danica in the history of any force.
Knowing, at least, that he was out of the realm of immediate danger (though perhaps something more of a kinkier ilk), he whimpered and drew his head down to his chest, tongue trapped between his teeth as his gaze hungrily roamed the bodies of the canines standing dominantly before him. Their cop shirts cut low beneath their breasts, buttons under so that the majority of their cleavage was on show, the shorts that they wore daringly high on their thighs so that they may as well have been underwear, for all that they covered. What really caught his eye, however, was not the flat hats balanced as if jauntily atop their heads but the sheen of latex in their costumes, a gleam that made his loins stir as if he had never been fearful about his situation at all.
“It took a while for you to come around this time, Yote,” Danica murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she shifted her weight back onto her heels, the high heels she wore daringly pointed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have slipped something quite that strong into your drink. You’re losing your touch, missing such a trick!”
She chuckled and flicked her brown hair back over her shoulder, having let it grow a little longer than the sharp cut that had previously framed her German Shepherd muzzle, eyes dark brown pools into which an unwitting lover or victim could fall into. Oh, more than one had been drawn in by her beauty and many more than that had lost their lives too, although her work was just what she was best had, so who could have possibly expected any less of her.
“Oh, poor puppy can’t talk,” Dora whispered, eyes glittering in that particular way that made him quail and yearn for her both in equal amounts. “Perhaps I can help with that…”
Her form of ‘help’, however, was to flash the blade of a knife with a sickly grin, advancing on him step by agonising step. Slipping it beneath the rope, she merely sliced it cleanly, but she left a panting, heaving, wide-eyed coyote behind her, heart hammering as his adrenaline pumped, his instinct to survive switching into overdrive. It was just what she was looking for, of course, the wicked canine playing with the knife as she tossed it from paw to paw, blade shining in the unflattering overhead light. Now that he was a little more awake too, Yote could see and actually take in the fact that he was in some sort of unused prison cell, the bars locked on an exit and a high window in the corner of the room boarded up on the other side of the bars, rendering any thought of escape completely and utterly futile.
He trembled, though his bonds hid most of it, offering some manner of support in the crux of the moment. That one… That was one that neither of them should have known – at least, not until he’d found the balls to tell them, which had definitely not yet happened. One of his darkest fantasies. Swallowing hard, he tried to make himself as small and insignificant as possible, although Danica clicking up with her playful stilettos (those would never have been seen in the police force either) posed a far more significant threat, the canine crouching and spreading her legs in a most unladylike way as she cupped his cheek oddly sensually.
“I…” The words were thick in his mouth, tongue working to produce some saliva. “I… How did you know?”
Danica’s eyes widened and, behind her, Dora slapped her palm to her forehead with an audible smack.
Dora rolled her eyes, drumming her fingernails on her hips. The look of pity she gave him was only very slightly marred by her delight in her ploy going off without a hitch.
“So… GunShep007 doesn’t ring any bells to you now, does it?”
Yote’s eyes widened and he fought the ropes, though it was more out of surprise than any kind of true fear.
Even Danica had to laugh, throwing her head back in a flash of shockingly white teeth.
“Yes! All the things you two talked about as well,” she cackled, sweeping her brunette strands back from her neck as she stood once more, casting her sister a look. “Why…those DMs were very interesting indeed!”
It was the blonde sister’s turn to look shocked, eyebrows shooting up as a muscle jumped at the corner of her jaw.
“Wait, did you hack me?”
“By Marmaris Escort Bayan the by now, sister,” Danica shot back with a wave of your paw. “I think it’s about time you introduced the birthday boy to just where he’s going to be spending the rest of the night.”
That cheered Dora up some, although one ear still remained slanted back at the thought of her private account being nosed into by her sister, regardless of how much they shared everything. It was just another note as to how those stupid locked accounts weren’t truly locked, the ‘after dark’ world cast into the light of day so very easily. Only, this time, she was using what she’d learned from Yote’s account for the betterment of his sex life, if anyone in the know was to make any sort of comment on it.
“Yes,” she giggled, eyebrows raised as she adjusted the badge, poised over one nipple. “Because this isn’t the end of it, little coyote, and there’s so much more in store for you…”
Only sometimes did Dora truly let out her crazed side and it came out in full form as she skipped to the draping, white cloth in the centre of the room, pinching the centre of it to whip the whole thing away in one go like a magician performing a trick.
Gulping hard, Yote tucked his chin down into his chest, tail pressed as submissively down as he could get it, but he wasn’t a coyote that was able to hide what he truly felt all that well either. It should have been innocuous – a table, just a table – but the Y-frame section did not bode well for him, formed out of clinically painted white wood. He could only imagine what would be left exposed if his legs were tied down to that, heart hammering anxiously in his chest like a caged buzzard, fighting and squalling for freedom that was not to be his. Not that he truly wanted it anyway.
However, it was not as if he had any choice in the matter at all as the Shepsisters bodily manhandled him, the table awaiting his body like an altar for a sacrifice. Although, if there was any such sacrifice to be made, it was going to be one that the darkest part of his soul and heart enjoyed so very much. He tried to make an escape as they sliced the bonds on his torso, but there was only so much he could do with two of them, both trained in so many kinds of martial arts, defence and, of course, the more illicit art of incapacitating a victim, the Shepsisters grappling him down to the table on his front, chin resting on the smooth surface.
Panting heavily, he groaned and tried to roll his shoulders back, but Dora made sure to pin his wrists to each corner, easy bondage appearing from beneath the table in the form of steel manacles that clinked forebodingly as he tried to wriggle and ease some of the tension from his body.
“We had the leather one on order,” Dora hissed, running her claws down his back, “but we thought this one was rather more…you. You’ve got to earn the home comforts for this sort of play, little ‘yote.”
And, shivering, the coyote knew that that was very true, submitting into the role that he had, in effect, designed for himself in playing out those fantasies on that damned Twitter account. His legs were yanked out to each end of the Y-frame section, easily fixed in place with similar manacles and a spreader bar too, locked into place just for good measure, as he became more and more immobile, cock slipping out hard and drooling shamefully.
“My…” Dora smirked and tapped the side of his muzzle sharply, not that he needed any kind of reminder to keep his muzzle shut. “You do like this, don’t you? Such a kinky coyote… You should have told me all about this long ago!”
Perhaps he should have and perhaps he should not have: everything had come to a glorious head, however, as she took full advantage of his engorged shaft to retrieve a milker from beneath the table. It was not the kind that a femfur would slip over lactating breasts thought but one that a male could use to draw out his own pleasure or what a wicked partner could use to draw out their seed, deriving pleasure without allowing the true rise of orgasm to claim their body.
Rolling his eyes, the coyote groaned deep in the back of his throat, but clamping his tail down over his backside wasn’t going to do a bit of good as Dora hummed a tune, skipping to her next toy beneath the table and brandishing a pair of nipple clamps at him. Of course, the milker was not the half of it as she brought several fantasies to life at once, Yote torn between lust and the need for his own release, eyes adoringly locked onto his mistress as she ran the chain between the clamps between her fingers.
A barked command always came out sharp, something that could not be denied. Against himself, he could not help but jerk to obey bowing his back as he whimpered and twisted, allowing Dora to, carefully, pinch one clamp and then another onto each nipple. They bit Escort Marmaris but not too hard, giving a delicious edge of pain that distracted him just a little from the pulsing drag of the milker striving to draw every last drop of cum from his needy balls.
It was hardly one orgasm after the other but Yote groaned and rolled his head, cum beginning to flow into the device and the container attached to it, set on the floor beneath him out of the way. The pressure pulsed and tightened around his cock, balls churning, but there was no way to hump or grind into it, the pressure unrelenting as the Shepsisters closed in on him from either side.
“Let’s see how much you can fill,” Danica said, though her voice promised neither reward nor punishment as her sister slipped into the harness of a rather large strap-on. “I’m sure you want to please my sister, don’t you? You want to be good for her…”
Whispering sweetly, her tone did not match her words as the slightly older twin moaned and admired how his body twitched and jerked in his bonds, wanting climax and getting his cum spilt…yet not quite in the way he would have chosen for himself, if so allowed.
“But to be good for her, you have to please me too!”
Her final word was punctuated by a needy thrust of her hips that was not entirely voluntary, a snarl curling her lips back from her teeth. Against himself, he quailed, although he caught every one of the words that followed, sending a chill down his spine as, unbeknownst to him, Dora got into position, admiring Yote’s muscled body laid out before her like a present, yet but waiting for her to unwrap it.
“So, do not disappoint me!” Danica snapped, eyes feverish, intent on keeping his intention on her. “Lick!”
The threat, of course, was implied as she squatted onto the end of the table, which had, coincidentally, been set at just the right height for her to grind her pussy against his muzzle. Despite the fact that the German Shepherd was still wearing her shorts, her juices had soaked through as he pressed his nose up to her cunt and licked and licked and licked, a puppy at her whim until she took pity on him, removing the shorts and panties beneath to allow him at the real treat of her cunny.
“Get your tongue in there good now, Yote,” she growled, jaw clenched. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you, what with this overseas trip of yours and all!”
He pressed his tongue up to her clit but nearly wrenched his head away as something slick and rounded pressed up under his tail. The strap-on slammed in, already lubricated, and he howled into Danica’s pussy as she hauled his head in, grinding against his muzzle as if he had merely become a living sex toy for her. Dora was not to be ignored either as she ground and thrust, driving in brutally as she even hitched one bare hind paw up onto the table, teeth bared as she tensed every muscle possible to hammer into him. Although he could not see it for himself, the double-ended toy pressed up into her pussy, squeezed onto her G-spot so that pleasure rang through her body every time she managed to hit just the right spot. And Dora knew all the right spots on her body all too well, even enough to hold back for just a while longer.
She had to draw it out for him, after all, and allow that milker to do its job, forcing his cock to throb and yearn for a true orgasm even while releasing his seed from his balls. It was what he’d wanted, after all, was it not? He wanted to cum…and she was just being a kind mistress in giving him that pleasure. Dora clenched her jaws, tail stiff as she rose towards climax, intent only on what would be her pleasure as her coyote lay in just the position he had wanted to be in.
They could not have timed it better, both Shepsisters cresting the wave into climax as they howled and twisted, slamming up against the Yote in different ways as he lay trapped between them, Danica’s juices soaking his muzzle while Dora plundered his tail hole for all she was worth. Driving the toy as deep as it could possibly go, she bore down on it as pulse after pulse of ecstasy radiated out from her crotch, tingling through her nervous system until she was quivering in the afterglow, her sister none the better.
But the coyote was still locked into the milker with no hope of release, whimpering and whining plaintively to no avail as Danica cooed and stroked his head, although Dora left the strap-on buried up under his tail, forcing him to bear through the strain and stretch of it. He was hers to do with as she pleased and it was about time that he had a sharp reminder of that.
“Better get your second wind, Yote,” the German Shepherd murmured, sliding her fingers through the thicker fur down his back. “Because you’re not getting out of that contraption anytime soon – not if my sister has anything to say about it.”
Moaning, he nodded, or at least tried to, eyes half-lidded and tail lifted obediently, the cock stretching his anal ring to the point where his body resided on the edge of pleasure and pain. But it was okay: as long as he had Dora there to guide him, step by step, through his fantasies, everything was going to be okay.
It was going to be a very interesting end to his birthday indeed.
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