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.
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"Were you a good pup today, Lancey?"
The whitetail doe smirked, tail bobbing, as she tapped the riding crop into the palm of her opposite paw. Carla's petal-shaped ears twitched to catch the moans of the wolf before her, who went by Lance in his day job, Lancelot if he was drawing on an old title just for the power play. A high-rolling VP, he was a VIP in any circle and was well known for his suave dress, never seen without a suit from the finest, most expensive tailor in the city, every female in gawping distance swooning at the mere sight of him. His grey fur blended smoothly into a white front tickling down the line of his throat. Most female furs longed to kiss that spot of purest white, but all Carla wanted to do was play her teeth across it, show him how the roles between predator and prey were so switched.
She would not have denied it if asked frankly; to anyone else, he was a fine catch as a date and even more so as a lover. His alpha male looks, however, were a far cry from the kneeling, whimpering puppy that Carla had posed in the rug in the centre of her play room, a delectable mix of sensual and carnal. The four-poster bed could have led to much erotic pleasure, but she was in it for her own pleasure and that did not require the use of his cock or her lying prone. The doe smirked. As Mistress Carla, she could simply take the pleasure of his payment for her services, however she pleased. The doe grinned, though the blindfolded wolf had no hope of seeing it. He visited her often those days, a dog with a bone for submissive lust.
It was a better life to trade the blouse and demure heels for thigh-high boots and, of course, her favourite corset after her day job was done, she reflected, pacing around the wolf in a small, tight circle. And maybe, just maybe, the wolf liked to indulge the opposite perversions with her. Chuckling softly to herself, she flicked the flap of leather at the tip of the crop up beneath his chin. Or was that simply stating the obvious? Lance shivered, panting heavily as his chest heaved and tongue lolled pinkly over his dark lips.
Carla frowned minutely, a tiny crease forming between her groomed eyebrows.
"I asked you a question, pup."
Lance jumped, startling away from the slap of the crop, but it was only the leather striking her own palm with enough force to scare him. Instinctively, he fought the rope harness, but he was going nowhere in the latex suit that sealed his limbs neatly away, highlighting the lines of muscle in his legs and chest for her pleasure. He groaned. Always and only for her pleasure.
"I..." His voice came in but a whisper as if he was afraid to set them loose. "I was good... Mistress. I behaved. I did not touch myself once."
"As if that's any great achievement for a predator," she scoffed, running the crop up his chest and tickling the patch of white fur at his throat. "You're all far too concerned with the chase to think of the delight at the end."
Grinning to herself, she leaned down, letting her breasts press heavily over the bust of the corset, just brushing his shoulder. He shivered as her lips nuzzled up to his ear, Carla whispering huskily.
"The delights that I bring are far more sensual than your kind could ever dream of encapsulating yourself, puppy. And you know that, don't you? You know how easily I control you."
She paused.
"Say it."
His answer came swiftly, one he'd given her many times before.
"You control me, Mistress."
