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. These stories have been public for some time, but I am slowly uploading my back catalogue of stories currently.
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Revenge
"Oh dear," the nude mare smirked, tapping the long, slim bamboo cane against the palm of her chestnut coloured paw. "We do seem to have gotten ourselves into a pickle here, haven't we?"
The red fox squirming and growling against the X-frame seemed to agree whole-heartedly. His paws and hind paws were bound to the four vertical ends of the frame, the leather cuffs cutting into his fine, auburn fur, and his muzzle was facing towards the bondage frame so that he could do little more than crane his neck to glare at the mare over his shoulder. He was dressed in obscenely tight jeans and a fitted, black shirt, which emphasised his slim frame and, to be fair, lack of muscle tone; Amethyst wondered how he had even crept into her house in such uncomfortable, overly-fashionable attire. Surely he could not even bend over in those clothes? He would not have them on for much longer though: oh no.
"Fuck you!" He spat, a globule of spit flying forth to sully the floor. "I only wanted to look around!"
"Mhm," she said absentmindedly. "Who sent you then? Come on, out with it, I haven't got all day for you."
"Fuck, you," he said more slowly, staring at the dark wall, although his tail flicked anxiously.
"Oh, do you think so?" She chuckled, motioning another fur forward. "I rather think it's going to be the other way around, don't you?"
A black anthro stallion clip-clopped forward noisily, nostrils flared and eyes wide with excitement; a brown, leather collar encircled his neck with a small, circular tag dangling from the front O-ring. He was nude from muzzle to hoof and carried a pair of bandage scissors in his paws, blunt on one side so that they could be safely used to remove, well, bandages. The stallion, however, had a different use for this implement - he made quick work of the wriggling, grimacing fox' clothes, letting them fall to the floor, without any sort of care, in ruined, tattered shreds.
"Don't do this to me," he whined to the stallion, who only snorted and pushed his head down so that he could finish slicing off the vulpine's shirt (his bare buttocks had already been revealed). "Please, you should just stop now. You can leave! Don't do this."
"That will be all," Amethyst said coolly, allowing the horse to gather up the scraps of fabric. As he passed her, bowing his head respectfully, she caressed his side lightly with her fingertips, groping his firm rear.
When she was alone with the fox, Amethyst flicked her ears back in distaste and stalked up to the X-frame, which was perfectly situated in the centre of the room. She only thought that it was a pity that it had to be used for such low means and not for the means of pleasure that she preferred to utilise it for, as her slaves rarely gave her any need to punish them. No, pleasure was the name of the game in her household. But there were some that did not respect that and thought that they could do better - better with her. Leaning in close to the fox, she nipped his ear sharply.
"Did you really think that you could sneak in here and harm my slaves, much less steal them away?" She hissed into his ear, the fox quailing under her murderous stare. "I know why you were here. All part of that bastard of a stallion's revenge. Some blokes never do take it well when you turn them down for sex. But every Tom, Dick and Harry at the fetish club thinks he can get me on my knees, sucking his dick like a common slut." She paused, the silence hanging dangerously. "I'm not like that."
"Your slaves are filth," he snarled defiantly, pinning his ears flat against his skull. "They are traitors to even consider serving under you. And lashing me up here like they had the right! I have a mind to - "
The mare slapped him hard, his muzzle snapping to the side as he yelped loudly.
"Shut up," she growled, gripping the cane, which she had been unconsciously holding all this time, more tightly in her paw, feeling its familiar weight. "I'll give you reason to scream."
Swinging her paw back, she struck his buttocks far too hard with the cane, but the blood-curdling fox-scream that the blow earned her was beautiful. He deserved the pain for his insolence. Did he have any idea what trouble he was causing her? She knew what he had thought he could do. He thought that he could take every one of her slaves away and rape her like a piece of meat, a slab of horseflesh. He was no different. Snarling in a most uncharacteristic manner for a horse of any breed, she brought the cane down again and again, cutting into his flesh and raising welts in a matter of seconds, her ears flicking to listen to the melody of his cries and whimpers.
But there was swiftly something different in his demeanour, even as he cried and tears dripped off the end of his drooping muzzle. His tail, which had been pressed downwards in a futile attempt to escape the biting pain of the cane, was pushed upwards willingly and he arched back into the brutality, eyes closed and lungs heaving for a proper gasp of air. Amethyst smirked knowingly, slapping his buttocks with the flat of her paw: so soon?
"Oh, you like that, do you?" She laughed cruelly, striking him a second time, square across the bloody welts, with her small paw. "All your plans to hurt and humiliate - and you are the one who likes it in the end. Maybe this is what you wanted really? Does your master withhold pain from you because you like it so much?"
He whimpered and shook his head, unable to get any coherent words out as he panted and swayed like a restrained drunkard, hatred dark in the narrowed slits of his eyes. Glancing down at her paw, Amethyst noted the smear of blood on her palm and where the fox' fur had darkened around the welts on his own skinny body; she had not cut into his skin that much, but the damage was still noticeable and could not be continued in this manner. The cane was too brutal of an instrument, which was one reason why she rarely took it in paw. Pity.
"You've made my paw dirty," she frowned and then pushed her paw against his muzzle. "Clean it."