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.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Harris groaned, his head lowered, though it was kept in place by a thick, leather collar around his neck, which was already more than enough to be a posture collar all on its own. The man's skin was bare, pale, so very exposed, yet in Mauve's dungeon room, he was more vulnerable than he ever had been before. His black hair did not set him apart in there and whereas he might have had a light bit of muscling on him, at one time, he was scrawny to her.
"Bitch. What did you think would happen, going the fuck home with me?"
She was ruthless, dominating, a dominatrix mistress who didn't even have to try, and that was exactly why Harris had been drawn to her. There was a beauty in her smooth, grey and white fur, the sharpness of her features, but she was layered with muscle, ripped even though the softness of her fur made her look, at first glance, as if she was not as muscled as she was. She was a good foot and a half taller than him, towering and looming, though Harris would have felt small before her regardless of their heights at any time, considering her naturally powerful air.
Ah... That was always the way of it, the man grunting thickly, clenching his jaw, as the malamute anthro gripping his arse, short, blunt claws biting in. He was drawn to the large, powerful, dominant females that he thought he could seduce, though he had been down that garden path so many times over that it was a wonder indeed that he survived, time after time again. Bound to a modified spanking bench that kept him lower to the ground, leaving his pathetic cock free and bobbing, his chest just about supported and his arms bound to the sides, fingers twitching, he was pinned in place. Tight leather encircled his thighs, his wrists, his ankles, even his forearms too, though the only lock was on the buckles around his wrists, ensuring that wriggling fingers would not see them loosened.
What he felt the most there as the naked malamute, for she needed no clothing for either confidence or to prove her dominance when it was such a natural part of her to begin with, loomed, was small. He was small, tiny, insignificant, so much so that he didn't need a name, not when he was there before Mauve, licking his lips, his throat feeling as if there was a lump in, it, but the tension did not fade, not even in the slightest, with swallowing.
Harris, however, was exposed there as his face was left free, his head wrenched back even as a yowl of pain broke his lips.
"Time to actually make yourself useful, bitch."
The snarl in her voice cut through an undercurrent of lust and dominance, wanting something from him, even though he was there to serve her every need. He could have been in pain, but she did not care, not as she half stood on the bondage bench, one foot propped up. The malamute growled, though he did not make out her words as his face was crushed into her pussy, moaning, slurping, his tongue delving into her.
"Deeper!"
He had to do it, even as she growled, pushing on, whimpering, for he was small and worthless, only there because she thought that he might have some kind of entertainment to her, for at least some time. The malamute's snarl rolled forth, trembling down into him, but Harris was prey to her whims, her pussy grinding onto his face as he panted, hot breath washing over her folds.
Mauve, however, did not care for light and gentle pleasure, grinding on his face violently, in such a way that the leather collar dug into his neck, briefly cutting off his ability to breathe at a certain angle. She didn't care, not as he heaved, power thrumming under the surface with her, though it was not something that she actively thought about. Some would have said that she was greedy and others would have said that she was brash, but Mauve did not consider things like that, not hardly at all even when someone brought it up to her.
She growled, tongue lashing out, sweeping down the side of her blocky muzzle. Yes... Yes, it was so much better to be who she was, not worrying about anything else, getting her way through life as she wanted. He was small and weak and pathetic -- and, in that way, their needs matched up perfectly with one another. That was not wrong.
The malamute was confident in herself, tail lifting, not as curled as a husky's tail, but still with a little, fluffy twist to it. Her breasts rolled with each snatched breath, grinding onto his nose, using his face as a sex toy, even though she had ordered him to eat her out. Mauve was too impatient for that as she pressed on, tongue hanging out, need getting the better of her. Yet she needed it, growling deep in the back of her throat, wrenching at his hair, her fingers twisted into it where it was a little longer on top, enough for her to get her fingers through.
That was all she needed, but he was there to stay, tugging at his bonds, his neck aching, head spinning. The collar dug into his neck viciously as she howled above him, juices trickling down his face, over his chin, marking him as hers.
"Unff... So, you are fucking good for something."
