The Mistress and the Slut

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."

She hissed above him and he trembled, wondering if there was anything more he could be good at. He needed to do something, anything, tongue wiggling back and forth helplessly, needing to lick, to please, to do anything, even as his fingers twitched. He couldn't reach the locks

"Don't you dare fucking cum, slut. You think you get to get off too? I'm not fucking having that shit off you."

Oh, so crude, so harsh... He was already so far down into sub-space that he barely was with himself in reality, just a toy, useless, helpless... He never hung out with anyone that used as rough language as Mauve, but the malamute's words were still enough to get his cock hard and aching, so very desperately so.

Yet her orgasm was coming whether it was him actively helping her to get there or not, his head spinning, enveloped in her scent and taste. Her thighs closed around his head, squeezing in, though it was her powerful muscles that kept him in place, unable to move his head even an inch back and forth. He was there, subject to her whims, fur stuck up his nose when the folds of her sex were not parted over it, her thick, plump clit pressing down and down and down until she could not hold back anymore.

Her howl broke the quiet, though her basement, which he would have referred to as her dungeon for the kink and toy-breaking toys that were down there (all for breaking sluts like him), didn't allow any sound out. She'd made sure of that already, so that no one would hear her smacking around her favourite toy, though that was only so that she didn't have to deal with annoyances like neighbours. A place out in the country where no one could hear her would be more appealing, for the solitude and isolation, but that wasn't going to happen on her salary.

With her climax trickling down his face, squirting, practically splattering his lips and nose with her orgasm, Harris grunted and moaned, light-headed, grunting, whimpering. It was all he could do as he tried to please her even then, lapping, teasing, pleasing. It was all he was good for, all he could do, even as she shoved him away, pain digging into his neck with the line of his collar.

Harris' head dropped. He couldn't hold up his own head as he groaned, the malamute unsatisfied, even if her orgasm had sated a tiny bit of it.

"What a tiny, pathetic cock... I wouldn't even feel that inside me."

He shuddered. She was right, so right. It wasn't worth him penetrating such a strong lady, a malamute who was so strong that she could practically break him in half over her thigh. He almost wanted that, even if it would have meant the end of him, though it was not up to him what came to mind in the depths of his fantasies, all brought to life with one like Mauve.

She grabbed his cock -- literally. There was no gentle closing of her paw around his dick as she squeezed and rubbed, forcing him to feel her, his cries and whimpers breaking from him in heaving sobs. He had not even known that he still had them in him, the cries like that, tears trickling down his face, even though he didn't want to be anywhere else.

If words passed his lips, not even he could decipher them. But it did not matter, not as the malamute rumbled a growl that trembled up from the pit of her stomach, as if she had to dredge up each growl every time she wanted to let one fly. She dwarfed him, covering his body with hers as if she was a bear and he nothing more than a mouse, though he could only be glad that she didn't have a dick to match her size. The soft folds of her grinding pussy had been large enough, crushing his nose and mouth, but something more... Something bigger...

His head swam, foggy, breathless, trying to cum and not to cum all at once. He wanted to get off more than anything else, his body straining to rock and thrust with aching need, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew too that she had told him not to.

"Hold it."

She shoved his head down, one heavy paw on the back of his head, grinding his chin down into the bench, though there was no padding there, not as she roughly humped against his arse. If he'd been more with himself, he would have realised that that was a taste of something to come, but he was too far gone to care. Her claws dug into him, leaving lines of pain in his bare skin, his cock aching, yet the line between pleasure and pain, well... It was all one and the same for him, when it came to Mauve, his body a toy while hers was as powerful as a tool, in her own paws.

She would always control herself and those around her, a dominant soul that only saw the use she could have of others. The malamute rolled her hips against his arse, her paw tighter and tighter around his cock, until he couldn't do anything more than to gasp, whimpering from the pain without any sound coming out.

"You're not going to get to cum," she snarled, eyes dark with intent. "If you do, I'll leave you down here for a week, alone, whimpering, crying...alone. You won't have anything to make you cum, you'll be aching for me, a slutty toy. But maybe that's what you want."

He didn't know. He couldn't know, not with how Mauve controlled him. His thoughts were dictated by her, howling, lips parted, gasping and losing control of himself. That was why he had her to control him, to take him, to abuse him. Anything was permitted when it came to lust, when it came to him being in a lower position than the female that took charge of him, a powerful creature, taller, stronger, better... Yes, better than him in any way.

His cock ached, but his balls, exposed, of course, took the brunt of her tempered fury. He was not in a position for her to easily strike them, but she still slapped and struck where she could, groping them too hard, roughly handling him, her paws on his arse, laughing and pulling the cheeks apart.

"What a tiny fucking hole... Maybe I should have just spent the night on your face. But that would be boring. Wouldn't that be so fucking boring to do the same thing over and over again?"

So many others did, but the two of them hungered for new and different experiences, the malamute drawing back only to step out of his line of sight. Whereas she knew exactly what she was doing in slipping on the strap-on, the leather straps rising around her hips and between her thighs. The man didn't have to know, not as she growled and licked her lips, the piece of flesh strapped down before her there to be enjoyed.

"Mmm..."

She could be as rough as she liked with him. And there was not a damn soul there who could stop her.

Not as she ground up against him, letting him feel the weight of the thick, heavy strap-on against his back end, pushing between his rear cheeks, the threat of it evident between them. He grunted and begged breathlessly, even pleading, though there was nothing at all that he could say to stop her, no pleas that would get her to change her mind about just how she could take him.

For she did not have to leave him openly bruised and broken, welts rising across his arse where her paw had connected, her hind paw slamming into his gut, his ribcage... No. She could take something greater, snarling, pounding the massive dildo into his arse without a drop of lube.

He screamed, begging, blubbering, though she laughed through it, relishing in his cries. The roll of her hips forced the strap-on into his backside dry, not caring for gentleness, not when she could do as she wished. That was the beauty of being as Mauve was, snarling, dark lips pulled back from her teeth, more like a wolf than a malamute, though at least no one was there to call her a husky.

No words were needed, their lust and his broken cries lingering in growls and savage jabs of her hips, forcing her way on so that she could grind the entire length of her strap-on cock into his backside. His body stretched around it from the sheer force, pain blistering through him, though any bruises that day would be left inside as she forcibly groped and manhandled his cock. She squeezed, claws biting into it, though not even that pain could overrule the blistering blast of a cock going into his arse dry.

It was what he wanted, but that did not mean that tears did not stream, gasping, panting, his lungs tight, though the burning ache deep in his gut did not fade, not even as she thrust. She took her pleasure exactly as she pleased, grinding in hard and fast and deep so that her clit ground against the front of the strap-on. There were soft nodules there that pushed into her folds and the swollen nub of her clit, though she was only fucking him for her ecstasy, lingering in it, howling, tongue hanging out in a splatter of saliva.

For she didn't have to be ladylike, not in any way, heaving, her abs even contracting as she slammed in. Her need rose and rose, even though she'd already gotten off once, yet feeding the swather of her dominance was all that she longed for, addicted to it, greedy at best and at worst, moaning through her deeply rooted lust. Her tail lifted proudly, muscle showing through in the lines of her back as she tensed, yet the thrust and grind of her hips would, at the very least, see her through the release of tension.

Stroke after stroke... Oh, he knew he did not matter, the malamute no longer needing to go hard to spread his arse open. He loosened around her, though his cock softened, the anal pounding far, far too much for him to bear, panting, heaving, grunting through it all. Yet his body was there to be used, more abuse than even coursing through him, his body aching, though the pain blurred the lines of something that even he did not understand.

And that was fine, even as he was fucked too hard to get anywhere near his orgasm. It did not matter that his cock did not burst in drooling spurts of weak, human cream, only that Mauve got what she wanted. She could edge him and tease him, groping and roughing up his cock, though his body ached desperately, twisting and spiralling into deep submission.

She climaxed with a howl, slamming into him, his backside sore, his flesh aching, pounding, surely bruising. Maybe she was being even rougher with him than he realised, though he could only pant and heave, the cock sawing through him. Harris was only fortunate that she hadn't gotten out a larger one, for that might have well torn him in two. His body seared through and his head hung, whimpering, tongue brushing his lips, though there didn't seem to be any moistness left in his mouth.

Harris heaved, stomach roiling, yet he didn't want to be let up, no, not at all. He was, horrifically, right where he needed to be already, submissive to Mauve, taking everything that his malamute mistress gave to him with whispered thanks. His skin prickled with sweat and the collar pressed down on his neck even more urgently, though his breath raked through his chest, even his windpipe sore.

With Mauve, there was nothing soft, nothing gentle, nothing that would see him through to the other side in lightness and gentleness. But that did not have to be so, not as she half drew back, the dildo still resting inside him, his arse gaping, strained tight.

"Not done with you yet, slut... Buckle up..."

Harris shuddered.

As if he was going anywhere.