FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Kahnso was used to setting down halfway through a flight. That was the problem with buying a used Learjet; why couldn't everything work as well as his Lamborghini did? Even if the jet were as reliable as the Pacer he had driven before he got his first record deal, it would have had a better track record.

"We're gonna touch down at a little airstrip, u-u-uhhh, just off the jungle here," his pilot said over the PA. It was unnecessary. He could have just turned around and shouted. Even now his plain voice came from the cockpit, each syllable reaching Kahnso's ears a split second after those of the announcement. Kahnso didn't really care. He was presently more invested in his Bloody Mary, which was his customary supper on flights.

In the pinkish twilight between day and night, Kahnso's red Learjet streaked above the jungle like a comet, cotton balls of gray smoke puffing from its engines and lingering in the windless sky. Down below, South American tribes unmolested by the modern world gazed up where the canopy of trees ended in ragged wedges and tracked the curious object, a steel bird like so many they had seen before, but never one with such brilliant plumage - and certainly never so wounded.

The singer disembarked with a smear of tomato juice staining his breast like the aftermath of a bloody nose. He pulled off his white tee, tossing it into a drum of grease-smeared rags on the airstrip. A threadbare fire crew rolled up with a customary ambulance and he slipped out of sight and started for the office. Mosquitoes buzzed around his body, sweaty from the liquor and musky as a consequence, but they found no purchase in his plush fur.

In the office, he answered the greeting of the clerk halfheartedly then signed on behalf of his craft, authorizing his pilot to charge whatever he needed to get the jet in the air again. As he signed his mononym, he asked where he could kill the time.

The tiger behind the desk, with his drawn and tired face, pointed out the window toward the jungle and seemed as if he planned to leave his answer as cryptic as that gesture. Then he said, "You'll want a guide, though. It can be a little... rough in there. I know a few young men, they have reasonable fees--."

"I can take care of that myself," Kahnso scoffed. He was buzzed enough that he almost believed himself, beer muscles so plump he couldn't see his own folly for them. "I'll need, uh, I guess a machete. Something badass like that."

"There's a path," the big cat said dryly.

Kahnso glared. "Then why the fuck do I even need a guide? Tourist trap much?" He stormed out, stomping across the tarmac. The tiger never got to tell him about the natives, and he thought Kahnso was such an unpleasant American that he felt no urge to follow him and advise him of how violent the tribals could get.

What waning sunlight that had filtered down through the trees was long gone when the fox began to realize his error. All around him the jungle chirped and squeaked and clicked. Loping shadows jumped at him, and he knew there were spiders as wide as hubcaps everywhere now that he couldn't see them. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. There was no signal there - why the fuck would there be? - but he lamely used its screen to light his way. He promised himself that if he did get out alive and at least mostly unmolested by tarantulas, he'd install a flashlight app instead of laughing at them.

Crouched in the brush, warpaint smeared on her snout and hide glistening from a dew of well-earned sweat, Myrina stalked her quarry by the beacon he held. Oftentimes she let the outsiders come and go. They never came close to her village, never hunted her prey, and never appealed to her. Wherever the outsiders came from, they were frail and stringy or they were hideously fat, odorous beasts. She wanted not one extreme nor the other. It was this bumbling, but muscular creature which she felt she had been waiting for. For Myrina, the mightiest warrior of her tribe, the spear-carrier who fed her people with the greatest kills, this outsider was a fitting prize.

It was not blood Myrina wanted. She could draw it easily; whether with spear or teeth, she could down prey in seconds. The warrior tailed him closely, even her vibrant green hide invisible in the unknowable darkness of the jungle. His beacon offered him little help. He talked to himself, uttering words uncomprehended by the tribal. He was afraid.

Myrina knew the path he was on was one the other outsiders always took. It led from their long, flat strip of rock to the outsider town just off the lake, and if he made it there she was certain she would lose him for all time. With jaws set and eyes narrow, Myrina lunged on the fox, moving swiftly despite her generous breeder figure - although hers was not a body which had ever borne children.

Kahnso whipped into an about face like a startled sheep, holding up his phone as though it were a talisman capable of warding off demons. "What the fuck is that?" he bleated, heart racing high in his throat. He caught sight of a blurry shape, green and yellow hide made a sickly shade in the glow of his phone's screen. A spear from the darkness pierced it between his hands, skewering it like a salmon on a kodiak's claws.

Although he would never admit to it, Kahnso shrieked. He was afraid for his life, and the fact that he didn't piss in his pants was a miracle. Barely a second passed between the destruction of his phone and the second strike from his assailant. This one was the showstopper; she spun on her heel and swung the heavy, scaled mace of her tail into his hips. Kahnso tumbled to the dirt, bottom jaw shoveling in a mouthful of it. He tried to scamper up to his feet, panting, muttering terrified little words and blowing specks dirt from his teeth with each, but Myrina was upon him. She stepped on his shoulder blade, mashing him to the ground. She brought the butt of her spear crashing into his crown, the practiced force she used to subdue prey without death. Kahnso fell slack as a ragdoll.

Myrina's home village had no formal name. There was no need for it, not when the lives of herself and her people barely extended past its ill-defined border. It was, however, a small paradise which treated its warriors with the highest of honors, and Myrina's treetop hut was among the most lavish in its decoration. Indeed, when Kahnso awoke with a banging headache reminiscent of a hangover and his wrists lashed behind his back with a sturdy, somewhat fuzzy vine, he thought at first he was in a novelty hotel.

An assortment of pelts carpeted the floor. Yellowing skulls of formidable, toothy beasts leered from the fore wall up where the wall met the slant of the packed and dried mud ceiling. Kahnso didn't like how the torchlight central to the room flickered in their hollows, and he tugged desperately against his bonds. It didn't occur to him that he had been stripped of his pants and boxers and that his mouth has been cleared of dirt, his chest washed clean of tomato juice.

A mosquito of a scale Kahnso had hitherto never seen before buzzed around his head before perching between his eyes, crossing them. "Ah, fuck off," the singer groused, jerking his head. He spurned the mosquito, but it circled and buzzed, voicing its nonverbal promise to come back when he least expected it. The exposed pad of his nose looked an especially tasty place to stick its proboscis.

Kahnso sat and stewed, fiddling with the vine. A soft patter of rain started on the mud roof, a world away to Kahnso in his current predicament. It dawned on him that this was not an exotic hotel but a very unfortunate turn of events, and this realization was unwanted. He perused the skulls and winced. A lick of his own large saber teeth, just to affirm that they were there, deeply unsettled him; it was pitifully easy to imagine his own grinning skull as part of the row.

"Oooh, ga-a-awd," he moaned, thinking of how much he wanted to kill his agent for setting up this tour. "Oh, my gawd," he reiterated, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. "I'm gonna die here." The words were grim and resigned. His most noteworthy regret was that he had never had a really good opiate high in all his life.

A small commotion began outside in the rain. Kahnso heard voices, syllables he had no hope of parsing coming from mouths he thought to be hungry for his delicate first-world flesh. Without realizing it, he tensed his face into a rictus. His anus clenched. He pulled at the vines and whined.

The voices came closer, one cutting above them all in sharp interjections. Some kind of leader, Kahnso thought, feeling proud of himself in spite of his imminent demise. She must be the leader. Must be. Probably here to take the first cut.

Finally she said something sharp, something which undoubtedly thrilled her flock. They laughed and clapped, their voices devolving into a cacophony of celebration and praise.

Myrina grandly entered her hut through a dense, black pelt hung across the door. Rain slicked her slide, giving great green curves a lustrous shine washed free of grime and war paint alike.

A lustful noise passed her rough lips. Kahnso uttered a similar note, his surprise punctuated by lurid desire. She was physically flawless from booted feet to short black hair. Long, toned legs; head-hugging thighs; unstoppable hips and breasts greater in size than Kahnso's skull. She strode near, her posture vaguely feral. Kahnso realized in a burst of instinctive memory that she was the one whom had hunted him, and he thought this must have been how she had moved then. There was grace in her movements as much as there was femininity. Lust dominated her gaze. Kahnso seemed to understand exactly what he was there for.

"Oh... oh. Honey, if dick's what you wanted, you could've asked instead of trying to crack my head like a goddamn coconut."

Myrina cocked her head; smiled. She paused just before her torches, and her bust threw shadows across her face, firelight gleaming on the gold of her piercings, twinkling especially upon the skull adorning her right nipple's ring. She spoke to him, the presently indecipherable words of her own tongue. She came nearer, boots heavy on the uneven wooden floor.

Much like a dog, Kahnso understood the tone but not the words. He felt confident that he could read her body language and see the wanting in her eyes. She knelt, straddling one of his large legs.

"Jesus Christ, you're pretty," Kahnso murmured, grinning ear to ear like he'd been given a stripper for his sixteenth birthday. His tail beat the floor, mutely thumping the dense wood.

Myrina grinned too, all her crocodile teeth gleaming white as pearl. She touched Kahnso's handsome face, tweaking his nose, rubbing his ears. She slid a finger between his eyes and made his eyelids flinch, her digit continuing down to the pad of his nose which the mosquito had since given up on.

Kahnso had been in bondage enough times to know what he was: a pet, or a trophy. The notion that BDSM could transcend culture made him smile wanly, closing his lips. "You like me, huh, babe?"

She rocked back on her knees, drawing her tongue over lips. Down she reached, stroking with the grain of his fur until she reached his thick sheath, growing thicker still. It seemed the mere presence of her cupping palm made the singer moan; his sound of pleasure made her laugh.

"What's your name, honey? You know - uh. What do they call you?"

Myrina tilted her head slightly, her smile a confused one, but her interest in his strange words was short-lived. She squeezed Kahnso's sheath firmly in her tough warrior's touch, coaxing another, shuddering moan from her prize. He lifted his leg, bumping her cuntlips.

Myrina's fondling and the wondrous sight of her body coaxed the tip of Kahnso's red cock free of its sheath. Lascivious rumbling passed her lips and her great tail swayed, its forward inches whispering across the floor. She scooted back, hands flying to either side of Kahnso's bottom, and pushed her full lips into his sheath, shoving it back and baring more cockflesh.

Heavy, indulgent suckles from the crocodile made Kahnso huff and wince. He wiggled his toes and curled them tight, cock emerging into Myrina's gulping, pretty mouth. "I-I guess, uh, it isn't too important what your name is..."

She felt her way beneath Kahnso, groping his heavy scrotum which previously spilled across her floor. Her knuckles rubbed his taint, an unintentional tease. It was her gulping and sucking which did Kahnso the greatest service of course, and she was aware of the pleasure which she subjected him to. As she pulled up, leaving his cock as streaked with saliva as her own chin, she gazed into his eyes with a look as domineering as it was hungry. In that look, she said to him: you are mine now, tasty outsider.

Myrina touched upon Kahnso's dense and heaving breast, raking through his fur with claws which had killed before, putting bloodless ruts in his flesh. She dipped her snout lower, nosing his ballbag. In one swift gulp, she took half its bulk in her maw and began to suckle and slobber, leaving coarse fur saturated with drool.

Kahnso's eyes walked along her back and over the thickness of her hips; he longed to touch her. The urge was like an itch he maddeningly couldn't scratch, and he needed her like nothing he had ever craved before. He salivated.

Sweat erupted from Kahnso's brow and he tilted back his head, looking at the jittering shadows of the ceiling, finding Myrina's flawless body unbearable to look at. Somewhere thunder quaked, shaking the high den of Myrina's home; she didn't flinch and Kahnso, whom had drank through a turbulent flight, was unperturbed as well. He gnawed his lip, turning the jowl a shade of ghostly white, and he listened to the sounds of the rain and of the warrior's slobbering sucks. Both noises were as steady and wet as they were relaxing.

He shifted on his ass and whined through clenched teeth, "Christ, if I could fucking lick you. Just once."

Myrina eyed him dubiously. She still sucked his meaty ballbag, only half of it; not even she with her large crocodilian mouth could fit so much in. She touched his penis, squeezing it with special curiosity around the bulb of the knot. Such a fixture she had never seen before on other travelers lucky enough to catch her attention; and his unfamiliar endowment notwithstanding, Kahnso was the largest trophy she'd ever taken by far.

Slowly Myrina pulled back. Kahnso's scrotum dragged along her tongue and teeth, not snagging only by virtue of her care. She wiped her maw on the back of her arm sloppily then abruptly thrust herself closer to him. The warm wetness of her cunt met his balls, his penis pinned between her flat belly and his. Their noses bumped before Kahnso recoiled. A dumb smile creased the corners of his mouth and Myrina found herself mirroring it, beginning to laugh. Her laughter was sharp, almost cackling like a hyena's bray, but Kahnso detected good humor in it. He allowed himself a nervous chuckle.

"You're not gonna cut me up or somethin' now, are you?" he asked, lamely.

The crocodile narrowed her golden eyes, tilting her head, lips taking on a pensive quality. She intently bumped the curve of her nose to the pad of his and uttered a few of her own words with peculiar emphasis in them. What she said, had Kahnso been able to understand, was now you will please me!

She stood, dragging her body on his in amorous fashion. Her great green breasts slipped over his head, his snout vanishing into their boundless cleavage for one heart-stopping moment. On her feet now, legs fully straightened, she pushed her wide hips into his face. Pussylips of delicate crocodile hide but fragrant with delicious feminine musk awaited Kahnso, their mere existence near his keen nose enough to trip every sexual drive he knew.

He breathed against the triangle of her loins, exhaling heated breath. That long, strong tongue, the one muscle on his body with its own insurance policy, slopped over her cuntlips though her thick thighs sported no gap. The powerful warrior quaked and her teeth showed in flawless, grinning rows. Being the tribe's champion was difficult work, and of that there was no doubt... but her choice of pets from outside the jungle made it all worthwhile.

Myrina sluiced Kahnso's handsome, dark hair through her fingers. It was coarse and black, wildly unkempt and shiny with sweat and rainwater. It was this dark hair which superficially drew the raven-haired warrior to him and she fondled it appreciatively as he snacked upon her muff. She murmured a phrase to him, a repetitive three syllables of her language but spoken in sweet, encouraging cadence. Translated, it was: my pet, my pet, my pet.

"Gawd, good gawd," Kahnso puffed. He was almost trembling from sexual need, not quite frustration. Myrina's taste and smell and shape were unendurable with his paws in bondage. He guessed at how plush her bottom would have been could he have sunken his fingers into it; how her fat titties might have dented and reddened as he gnawed on them and sucked hickeys into their fleshlike hide. His penis ached, spitting precum miserably. He whimpered for her.

Ooooh, my pet, my strong pet, my handsome pet, Myrina cooed, dripping wet for the fox. She groped around Kahnso's crown, rubbing his ears. Her nails raked through his hair, stinging his scalp but galvanizing his pleasures. Handsome pet, strong pet, she groaned, grin growing proportionately with her pleasure.

Suddenly - or perhaps not, since Kahnso was lost in tonguing Myrina's cunt - the crocodile lifted his bound wrists, dislodging the corded vines from the knob of tree trunk. Kahnso had begun to forget his arms were bound above his head at all; being able to hold them in front of himself as if sitting in handcuffs (that wasn't new to him) was an enormous relief.

Myrina did not let her handsome, strong pet revel in his comfort for long. She dragged him forward by the vine, made him prone on his back, stood over him with boots on either side of his neck as though she planned to snap it with her ankles. Kahnso gaped at her, arms again above his head, and his eyes scanned her shadowed body with as much lust as worry and as much worry as nonsexual admiration for her capability; not many women could subdue him like this.

The crocodile grinned, this expression coming to her most naturally, and she turned around in a nearly delicate manner. The leather soles of her boots whispered on the wood. In the fickle orange torchlight, her tremendous bottom hung over his face like a full moon in the sky, and as she squatted, Kahnso's heart began to race. "Oh god, yes, yes," he muttered, tail thumping and ears splaying down flat. The crack of her ass bumped his nose, cheeks parting around it as she slid down. A thin layer of sweat greeted his snout and his muzzle rode on it before finally his nose was smooched by the pucker of her anus. If Myrina decided after that to Kali Mah the beating heart from his chest, he felt he could die happy.

Within Myrina's culture, for a female to sit like so on the face of any male was the ultimate act of domination. It did not occur to her, could not occur to her that Kahnso might misinterpret this gesture but when the fox began to tongue and smooch the quivering, tight pucker of her asshole, she was exulted. In her mind, this colorful new pet understood and embraced his place beneath her and she intended to shower him with pleasures, praises, and all the bounties of her hunts. He would be hers in perpetuity, there to be paraded before the other warriors; a beautiful creature from the outside whom she would spill blood for if her ownership were challenged, and the idea was thrilling. Her tail thumped, muff throbbing dully against the coarse fluff of Kahnso's neck.

Myrina draped over top of Kahnso, tough hands taking hold of his pelvis. Her full lips met his penis again and she kissed its tip, taking to it naturally though canine was a new shape to her. Good pet, my pet, she murmured, her smile localized to the corners of her mouth. She ensconced his balls in her hand, fondling the fur and flesh she'd previously made sloppy with saliva.

Kahnso ate her asshole with slavish devotion, an ass man to the very end. He looped his bound wrists around her tail and reached up, touching her back. As he felt down, the vine ropes brushed the dangerous scales on her tail and Kahnso made an important realization when the vine snagged. Pleasure was fine and well - but he still had his liberty to think of. Like a prisoner with a nail file working at the bars day after day, Kahnso scraped the vines upon her scales as surreptitiously as he could. When Myrina shifted her tail, he moved with her, letting the heavy muscles in the appendage do some of the work for him and dig into his bonds.

Still Kahnso's thick, pink tongue gave Myrina pleasure as much psychological as it was physical. She again kissed his cock, the gestures delicate, as a gentleman might kiss a lady's hand. This was no ritual to her tribe; she was being purely indulgent, just as she'd been when she sucked the sweat off his ballbag. She was keen on his masculine scent, the raw flavorsmell of his precum treating her to musk as unique as a thumbprint, and to taste and smell him just so made her wetter, hotter, nastier. She gyrated against his handsome snout, her intent to grind her cunt on his neck, but the effect wedged his snout deeper into the endless crevasse of her ass crack. And the more she packed his muzzle in, the harder he lapped and the more strongly he exhaled his humid breath against her all as he devoured her winking, pink pucker.

A whim of pleasure took Myrina forward, pussy dragging on the singer's neck and briefly along his chest. Kahnso panicked, quickly pulling his wrists away from her tail, thinking his chipping at his bonds had been discovered. He felt also a pang of disappointment, realizing a second after his snout was free of her deep ass crack how much he enjoyed having it there.

She wheeled around on him, one of her boots bumping his side as she straddled him once more. Lust glimmered in her eyes, the torchlight glow pitiful in the face of such wanton desire. She grinned, teeth sparkling; she tribal snapped at Kahnso, making him wince away. Myrina laughed, delighted by her power over him, and again she cooed her praises, reminding Kahnso what a handsome pet he was. A gentle caress calmed him further, the back of her hand soothing on his long snout. She bumped her nose to his, bumped her bottom to his cock. Kahnso's breath hitched in his chest and Myrina was not ignorant to the sudden awe he expressed.

Reaching back, looking as well, Myrina took Kahnso's dense red meat in her hand. She pulled away, pouting out her breasts, and her golden nipple rings shone in the firelight, catching Kahnso's eyes and distracting his efforts to break the scraped and weakened vines.

Myrina was unsubtle in dropping herself onto Kahnso's cock. It brought Kahnso no surprise when he felt the warmth and tightness of her pussy around his cock; it was very difficult to be shocked after the turn his night had already taken. As her chubby behind rested on his hips and the lips of her snatch on his knot, he sighed. Breaking his bondage seemed unimportant. He watched her enormous breasts rise and fall with her breathing, and soon she began to move on him, riding slowly and speaking in tight words. Just as before, Kahnso was a handsome and strong pet. A new superlative was big. Kahnso was a big, handsome, strong pet.

"God, babe, if you're gonna eat me or something after this, that's totally fucking cool with me," said Kahnso, his voice a little dreamy and dumb. Thunder shook Myrina's den, reverberating in their bodies.

She bit her lip as though considering making a meal of him. Her ride never paused, but in fact quickened. Myrina was heavy and she clearly understood at least the basic concept of gravity, for she let herself simply drop at the apex of her every bounce. The way her box mashed into Kahnso's knot and threatened to part for the fat bulb was an awesome pleasure the likes of which she felt she could grow used to. She looked up at her gruesome tableau of skulls. It pleased her now to revel in the splendor of her trophies. This new one she had no intention of killing, rather keep forever in her bed as a young girl might keep a teddy bear, but he was her trophy just the same.

Kahnso drank in Myrina's jiggling, smoothly bouncing figure. Everything about her from short black hair to wide green hips allured him, and he had intimations of what she wanted to do with him in the long run. The craziest part to Kahnso was how he found himself thinking it wouldn't even be such a bad arrangement; there was no cocaine (at least not the refined powder he liked to snort) and probably very few if any sports cars or hookers in the jungle, but the warrior beauty riding him like he was some kind of show pony was sexual dynamite.

He continued to tug at his bonds, but more as a nervous gesture. When he felt that his wrists were actually free, he touched her breasts, hardly realizing what his paws were doing. Neither did Myrina realize what his unencumbered touch meant. She moaned, touching his wrists and coaxing him to fondle her more firmly. He did, squeezing her boobs tightly, and she shuddered, arching her back and stuffing her tits into his groping palms.

Pleasures Myrina had only felt hints of in her life welled in her body. She chewed her full, fine lower lip, putting marks in it, not quite bloodying herself in the process. Deep, abiding moans shook free of her body and she pushed against Kahnso with all her worth, grinding down when she hit his knot. Instinctively she understood that it was supposed to be inside of her; it was simultaneously a fantastic idea and a bad one.

A grin, smug and coy, played across Kahnso's sweat-streaked face. He gave her tits an overbearing squeeze and Myrina shrieked for him as if in pain, but her body reacted with absolute pleasure. Kahnso had fucked often and savagely enough to know when a woman was about to squirt for him, and Myrina ticked all of the boxes. She grabbed his forearms like she meant to pry off his paws but instead held them where they were, pulling him in and urging him to grope her harder. Kahnso obliged his tribal mistress, putting dents in the pliant hide of her boobs, leaving minute bruises at the deepest points.

Myrina grimaced against the pain, panting with the pleasure. She wanted the knot badly enough that she began to imagine how it must feel, but it proved unattainable at the very last. She cried out, her shriek cutting through the din of the rain. Her shadow writhed upon the wall, tail straight as an exclamation point, snout pouted skyward. Myrina came, squirting upon Kahnso's cock and clamping down as though she hoped to hold him there for an eternity. The quiver of her afterglow had just begun when she looked down at Kahnso; her handsome, strong, big pet. She saw the broken vines. She looked at his paws on her breasts, relaxed but cupping her, and she blinked.

"Sorry about this, baby," Kahnso genuinely told her, grabbing her by the forearms. Myrina was powerful and stout, but Kahnso was beastly in his musculature. He threw her aside, rolled with her, slipped out of her cunt. He grimaced as he ended up on top of her; he found he was dismayed by her distraught face. She appeared betrayed.

Kahnso bit his lip as he struggled to pin her down, slamming her arms into the wooden floor. Myrina scowled at him but she was admirably silent. "I'm sorry, all right?" Kahnso groused, thinking to bump his nose to hers before seeing her teeth and thinking better of it. "I really thought about staying. You're fun, baby. But I got a contract and a Lambo back in LA, honey. It can't work out like this."

Myrina huffed, losing the air of betrayal but instead looking decidedly pouty. A wiggle of her arms proved fruitless, Kahnso had her soundly defeated there, but her legs were not so trapped. She threw them around his back, boots thudding together over his tail. When the realization that he was trapped once again stained Kahnso's countenance, Myrina cackled victoriously in his face. She laughed to him, my pet - strong, very clever! But still my pet!

The fox thought about just giving in then and there. He loved that tenacity, and frankly his ego enjoyed the constant stroking which went hand-in-hand with such possessive conduct. He let go of her arms, grabbed her hips, and tried to straighten his back. Like a wrestling maneuver half-remembered, he lifted her, though less with his arms and more by her legs locked around his back. Still, her own weight saw her grip on him loosen, and she stared at him incredulously, pawing at his chest for purchase his sweaty fur did not grant. She was much too considerate to grab the obvious locks of his hair. Arousal burned again in her golden eyes, however; not only was her pet a fine specimen, but he was determined to fight back. To a warrior, Kahnso's behavior was quite desirable.

Suddenly a grin as wide as it was wicked enveloped Kahnso's face. He grabbed Myrina's thighs, gripping her tightly like he'd held fast to her breasts. He forced his spine to straighten until he broke the squeeze she put on him, and her upended bottom brushed his genitals. She gawped at him from her unintentional headstand, legs splaying in a stunned display.

"I'm going home, honey, whether you want me to or not," Kahnso said grimly. He pulled on her thighs, forced them apart. Her snatch glistened, but so did the pucker of her anus. He bit his jowl and guided his cock to the pink bullseye he had so recently smooched and slurped, and he looked from the tops of his eyes at the panic and offense on Myrina's face. "Gonna give you something to remember me by, though. Ye-e-eah," he laughed, entering her slowly but implacably. Her toothy grimace met his anal invasion. "Yeah," the fox reiterated, "you'll never forget about this."

From deep in Myrina's body came a groan. She muttered something to her pet, a fussy remark of how bad he was. It was a rhetoric not unlike what a mother would take up with her unruly son. Kahnso's slow sink into her virgin ass was so alien as to hardly register to her as sex, but as with most things she had discovered with Kahnso that night, it felt oddly good. She interlaced her fingers with her splayed toes, staring past her hands and feet at the sneering visage of her pet.

Kahnso's knot kissed the pucker of her anus. He held her overturned thighs, rubbing where they met her stupendous ass cheeks. Slow, but unrelenting grinds forced his knot more firmly against her. The gradual swelling of her pucker added to its tenderness and Myrina found herself panting, for once at a loss as to her control of the situation. And in that weakness was more pleasure still; Myrina did not quite acknowledge that her pet had turned the tables on her, but she enjoyed her submission.

The singer's hair pooled over his shoulders, dangling low in sweaty whips like the locks of some barbarian. He gnawed his jowl and unlike Myrina's more reserved chewing, he actually did leave bloody, albeit small marks in his lip. "You've never done this before," he whispered, grinning at the corners of his mouth. "Natural backdoor beauty, though. Shit, I really wish I could stay now..."

He fondled her cunt, finding it so exposed and wet as to be irresistible. Myrina bucked against his loins and paw alike, toes splaying with these sparks of pleasure. Her recent orgasm felt as if it hadn't happened at all and only her wetness both smeared on her loins and the singer's powerful cock said otherwise. It was that moisture which helped to lubricate Kahnso now.

"You wanted my knot before," Kahnso murmured. He chuckled darkly and Myrina noticed this, eyeing him not with worry, but caution. "Goddamn, should I or shouldn't I?" He laughed; he plunged two thick fingers into her cunt, gritting his teeth as he fingerfucked her, releasing her scent which had only grown thicker with orgasm. Myrina's wariness melted and her eyes rolled back, that beautiful warrior's face becoming a mask of pure pleasure again. "Cum for me again, baby. Squirt while I'm up your ass."

Kahnso leaned heavily over and upon Myrina, grinding with the full weight of his body. His knot threateningly pushed against her anal entrance, gouging it more and more with every push. Its surface was unbearably broad, but it featured enough of a curve that it could - and now did - spread open the crocodile. Kahnso bit his bloody lip when he felt the knot begin its intransigent pop inside of the girl. He watched her face closely, fingerfucked her cunt furiously.

Agony drew Myrina's face away from pleasure, but not entirely. Indeed, an ambivalent expression played across her features as the knot popped into her. Her jaws opened wide, frozen in a silent scream, and then she snapped them shut audibly as the widest point of Kahnso's knot passed into her. Her behind relaxed, Kahnso's penis buried safely within, and she arched her back. A quivering moan passed her clenched teeth and she suffered what was among the most conflicted but powerful orgasms of her entire life.

As Myrina came she squeezed for Kahnso, gripping his fingers and his cock. The former he beckoned with, teasing her inner flesh while she squirted, but he could only suffer through the latter. Soon her clenching, with its arrhythmic wildness, was too much to bear. The culmination of his having been Myrina's lucky fuckpet was Kahnso's potent climax into her ass; he erupted into her, panting and trembling as he came. His dominance was briefly broken and so were both the language and cultural barriers. He and Myrina were one as their bodies wracked themselves in orgasm, and he mumbled pleasured nothings just as she did the same to him. Sweat rolled off their faces, trickled down their bodies. Nipples stayed stiff; extremities tingled; tails swished. They entered afterglow together.

Myrina gazed at Kahnso, a thin smile on her tired face. The fox let himself down slowly, huffing like he'd run a marathon. He knelt near her, hips to her bottom, and she rested her legs over his shoulders. My pet is a worthy foe, Myrina cooed to him. He may leave if he wants to. I cannot force him to stay here.

"I still have no idea what the fuck you're saying," Kahnso sweetly reminded her, smiling charmingly.

The crocodile knew as much, though the language barrier went both ways. She reached for the vine, discarded and ragged at its ends. She held it before herself and Kahnso, letting him take in its appearance. She mimed binding his wrists his with it... and then threw it aside where it landed with a dry scrape on the wood, lost in the shadows of the margins.

Kahnso seemed to understand. He nodded, leaned down, bumped noses with Myrina. Dizzying thoughts of whether or not he'd even see the crocodile again swam in his head. He wondered if his pilot thought he was dead in the jungle somewhere. But as he pressed against Myrina, his knot still buried within her, he let the worries slip away. There was time for panic and worry in the world outside of Myrina's village. There in her den, he let himself sleep soundly with her, to pet to her mistress and very contented in that role.