Leash and Quarry
Anyone who saw the leash immediately knew what it was, what it was for, the implications it held. No such craft as the short, fibrous rope had ever debuted among the skunks, and if any of the other peoples they'd met had produced one, they'd kept it discreet until their ways had parted.
The man who held it bore himself with a great, visible pride, in himself and in his tool, and in the prize that followed him dutifully with a crude strap of animal hide tied taut around its neck. The great skunk tied the short, thin cord secure around the collar and the meeker skunk gulped and swallowed as the burly hands worked against his delicate neck. The march through the encampment began. The larger skunk preceded with his broad and bare chest out, a fine multicolored loincloth of intricate beadwork proving absurdly small for the task of humbling his abundant manhood. The skunk behind wore only the strap on his neck, his slight prick shrinking from the exposure.
The great green eyes peered downward in ever vigilant keenness like a predator eyeing varmints. It made it easier that many people refused to regard the scene, out of either outrage or respect, the bigger man's aura carving a windbreak from their eyes. But less them, the skunk still passed through a crowd of undaunted disturbed stares. This trailing skunk's neck rubbed raw against the strap as it turned from side to side, searching out the eyes of people who were too ashamed to look at him. His back slumped and chin dropped in a feeble attempt to hide himself, wanting to sink the whole of his face into his chest. He curled his underwhelming, tail through his legs and held it to his chest though the scraggly fibers provided scant privacy. This slowed his pace, and would warrant an aggressive tug from the demanding leader, who led them quickly past the eyes that hungrily scanned all of the hunted creature's bare body.
Getting through the forest seemed easy, compared to that. The man at the lead navigated the dense wood, and when the follower's awkward maneuvers let him fall behind only a short pace, he'd fall and be dragged along until his footing could be gained again. The skunks dug deeper into the forest, along trails worn down by the constant treading of others feet, until the undergrowth started to gain its nerve and the trail slimmed. The dead undergrowth snapped under the head skunk's hands, upstart bushes crushed beneath the pads of his feet. He worked with single-minded conviction, taking for granted his quarry's capabilities in keeping up. The thorns and the burrs stuck into the skunks' fur, matting their plush tails and giving their matching coats a twin film of dirt. For the effort, however, it was the larger man whose musk sweetened the air, the product of his labors tantalizing the nose of the follower downwind. The small skunk sucked at the air to catch his breath and couldn't help but taste the stronger man's labors in it.
The ground warmed beneath their feet and the rushing of a modest waterfall compassed the leader to a bright blue clearing where white puffs of vapor clung to the water as if for warmth. The trees rose up straight and proper, befitting the respectful scene nature had worked to create there. All arlund puddles and ponds gave up steam like ghosts. The tied skunk watched his lead huff this smoky air into his lungs like an intoxicant. It was his space, the skunk knew. It was the bigger man's respite, past the point where any less sturdy feet would have turned back. That's what made it his.
The big man pulled his arm forward, tugging the ingenious rope so that as a matter of course the skunk within it came sprawling to the ground at his knees. Another tug got him walking on them. The curiously warm earth felt wonderful against his knees and palms of his hands, the strange effect of it nearly overwhelming his wonder in the moment he was being walked on all fours to a stonefloored cave behind the waterfall. The rocks warmed on the steam that filled the small cropping, and were of course always wet. When the bigger skunk sat himself on a stone ledge, he took his great plush tail in his hand and groomed it. As something like an afterthought to this, his foot crushed into the skunk's soft gut to bring him crashing hopelessly to the wet floor. Sprawled there, the master's dirt-caked paws pressed against the slave's muzzle, coaxing out the tongue to clean it, only a soft groan of protest rising from the slight chest pressed against the rock floor. The skunk spit out only a small bit of gravel or two, and his tongue worked between every toe, and the cleaning continued until the pads were not only pristine, but soft and supple from the tender attentions. Only then did the bigger man put his feet aside and pull the hacking skunk up to his knees, the scruffy muzzle redirected underneath the meager, decorative cloth.
The scent wasn't so clear now but fogged by its strength, like stepping out into a bright light. The meek chest whimpered, the knob on the slave's throat rising and falling against the tight skin strap. The musk soured on the skunk's tongue and filled his spine with a raw envy for the man. The musk was not to be avoided, of course. Not in so intimate a space as the one carved behind the waterfall. The aroma expanded to every impermeable wall of the outcropping and the heavy, steamy air gave the musk an actual weight, like a residue the skunk could feel settle in his lungs.
The slave skunk lifted the cloth with the bridge of his muzzle and let it settle on the firm stomach. The runt of the tribe whimpered at sight of the stud's cock. A dick that big can't avoid hinting at its size, what with the difficulty in covering it, but now it sat uncovered and swelling into its full glory like a tree trunk thrust into the sky.
It's not difficult to interpret what a hard cock wants, so the skunk put his lips to the mast and lapped a patina of saliva over the black skin in measured, thoughtful licks. A hand fell hard on the top of his head, and interrupted this methodical process with brusque tugs and vicious yanks to direct the skunk's attentions to whatever spot itched. The brawny skunk reclined in his stone throne, content to let his musk bake the cave like a fire heating a furnace. And the servant skunk's eyes, his nose, the tips of his fingers and flat-laid ears right at the hot white center of the blaze. He coaxed the fire like a shaman.
Drops of pearlescent precum rose like drops of dew to the head of the servant skunk's slight dick. Held in his paw, the marble head only peeked out of the clenched fist. He didn't dare stroke a beat so the sticky liquid collected in his paw. He gripped tighter and tighter, and the little tool resisted, pulsing as if possessed by an insurgent force. The slave took his superior's staff in his other hand, his scrawny fingers unable to meet around the girth. The slave had abandoned composure and given up to sobbing empty of tears, the straining of his throat the best he could do to keep his cork from popping. Or, it may have been the swatting away of the white-knuckled paw that kept the skunk's little ebony rod in line. Both paws ought to be necessary to attend to the big man's needs, either to get a firm grip on the slick tool, or to cradle and tug the balls of a bull between the stud's thighs.
The master cooed and moaned in private satisfaction, the rurrs rising from his chest like a quake from the ground. The pole pulsed with vitality, several veins branching along the length, so prominent in the fat cock the skunk could feel them in his palm. Long moments passed in oscillation between worship with the mouth and care with the hands. The skunk tried and failed to deep throat, and largely tried and failed to take the stout rod at all without his sharp little fangs grating at the oppressive meat. He did his best to keep the beast stiff and happy, knowing full well how the skunk looked when pleased, but unsure of how restlessness could begin to affect him. His affections grew more lavish at times, even wordy, the diplomatic slave quickly discovering the phrases and appellations that made his master glow. These praises would only warrant critical interrogation, and cruel ridicule, but he offered them all the same, because the response was all the same: the fat cock stayed rigid as a rod as he stroked and heaped it with praise. And the slave found no shortage of inspiration for his esteem. Every taut inch of the skunk's body begged praise, aside from the respect his name and reputation commanded from the tribe. As he sang the glory of the master's might, he did it with the confidence that nobody would conquer the trail that would bring them to his rescue. It was the supremely muscled arms and legs that had cleared the path, and the little skunk made his knowledge of his vocal.
Service only came to a close when the burly hand clamped down on the muzzle. The assaulted skunk bit his tongue, but got the message, and kept his hands working diligently on the rod while the beefy paw rattled his skull. He stroked until he felt the thighs buck and the hefty balls tighten up against the body, then the godlike hand pulled his muzzle to the onyx head which drained a torrent of cum sweet as ripened fruit. It splashed against the slave's cheek, draped over and shut one eye, brough out his tongue to lap gulp and gag at in his excitement. He tried to catch the dribble from his muzzle, suspecting he'd be cleaning whatever made it to the wet floor. His once dormant prick twitched to life like an offensive thing decent people stamp out with their heels. The slave's paw curled like a claw around the stubby length again, the modest head tinged with red and beaded with steam, sweat, and juice. The well-chewed nails struggled to sink into the flesh.
Fresh spray and steam like purifiers began to root the musky scent out of the cavern as the bigger skunk lay in repose, his cock laying along his stomach like a redwood over a walking trail. The knelt skunk started to uncurl his back, once hunched over in penitent respect, and search with his nostrils for the new air pouring in from the outside. His ears turned on swivels, accepting sounds indiscriminately, though the crashing of the wall of water washed out any intruding reverberations. Aside from his own shallow breaths rushing in his ears, only the leash-holder's contented rurrs complemented the deep bass of the falling water. Slowly, his joints and muscles easing from their tension as his stiff cock slowly slackened in his grip, the slave composed himself. He started to regard the man with a steadier eye, the deep green irises always returning to the stout rod to watch its measured descent. The bigger man reclined, the smile of a banquet on his face, a hand casually fondling his cock like a muscle that can't be allowed to cramp.
Few moments of peace passed before the bigger skunk roused himself from his stone bench to stand over his prize. Shakes shot up the slave's spine, his breath deep and staccato as he winced under the weight of his master's glare, which drubbed him with the intensity of the waterfall that shrouded the scene. The master picked up the slave was picked up by the scruff of his neck, the limp leash dangling in front of the bony chest and the skunk's toes struggling to reach the ground. Pitiful attempts to stifle cries of pain led only to the skunk being tossed back onto the floor, and when the bigger male seized and started to yank the leash, the humbled beast crawled forward on his hands and knees, his broad tail tucked between his legs to hide his shame. Half leading, half dragging, the skunks exited the crevice behind the waterfall into the burning sunlight. The calling of birds and the gentle swaying of leafy trees in a strong headwind did nothing to paint the scene idyllic. The hot springs let up invitations of steam. The lead skunk brought his follower to the bank of a wide pool that seemed as if carved into the stone face of the woods. He sat down, dipped his feet and lost his gaze in the water.
The slave skunk looked into the hot water, a deceptive azure that made him smack his dry lips against his parched tongue. Lowing his muzzle into the water, he withdrew it quickly from the pool. He splashed his hands in next, letting some of the hot water collect in his palms, and watched as it all dripped out beneath. He whined, his raspy throat craving relief. He reached one more time, sinking the bowl of his hands deep into the spring before feeling himself pulled into the crystal blue abyss by the leather strap around his neck. It only took a few moments of abortive escape attempts for the skinny skunk to learn to endure the stifling heat, though with no shortage of weak shouts and helpless flailing for the effort. So deep in the hot waters, touching bedrock with his toes with all his body boiling and the steam teasing his nose.
With just his head breaking the surface of the blue waters, the slave felt the entirety of the master's gaze bear into his eyes as if the very brilliance of him might blind him. The smaller skunk still struggled to see chances for escape, reached far into the pits of his will for a spark of survival instinct, but the further he sunk into himself the less purchase he found. The more his inner mind wearied, the more comfortable his body started to find the cradling waters, the very oppressive heat of it seeming to lift and rise the buoyant body. The skunk committed to the most reptilian centers of his brain in a struggle of right and wrong, of just and partial, or survival. T
The mind fought and the soul fled but the body surrendered immediately. The eyes led the coup, scanning every bold line of the master's cut body, not sparing the slightest detail of the dark imposing frame, so much like his own and yet different in every critical way. Such a ravishing difference could only be achieved in supposed similarity- so that there wasn't a category in which the two did not compete. Of their muzzles, the master's sat squat and square on his face like the ottoman of a throne in a distant kingdom, evincing in itself a natural grimace of determination and strength. The leashed skunk's jutted from his cranium like an awkward crag, and seemed to twist and contort when the man opened his jaw to gasp feverishly for air or vent the moaning of his aching muscles. The glassy surface distorted over the skunk's struggles and gave the broken body a brief reprieve of privacy, the scalding blue of the pit sheared with black ripples reflecting the foreign presence.
The slight chest struggled against the crushing heat of the water. The skunk hadn't been so aware of how deep his breaths had become but the water seemed to press against him like a molten bladder oppressing his lungs and his breath raced to keep up.
The leash pulled him like a fishing line to the pool's edge. The sunken skunk threw his hands up to the sturdy thighs of the leash holder and pulled himself out of the hot bath and into the comfortable lap. He hung on with his arms wrapped like vines around the broad trunk. His nostrils hissed as his chest heaved and deflated freely. Most of him still simmered in the water below, and the respite he'd bought came at the price of burrowing his face into the larger skunk's crotch. The musk cascaded over his senses again in insistent waves, sparking them with every desperate breath, almost as suffocating as the hot spring waters. The skunk wouldn't let go of his post, though, and he took begrudging comfort in the safety of the bigger man's lap.
The monster cock started to stir, again. It had started with the first tug of the leash, but only in the calm after the climb did the heaving skunk notice the tool rising from its rest. His eyes fixed upon it and followed it in pulsing lurches until it pressed against his muzzle. The cock knew what it wanted, clearly, but this time the demanding hand interrupted the slave's entreaties and shoved the cooled body out of the lap and back into the center of the the hot spring. When the skunk was reeled back in by by his leash, the bigger man had laid back along the slick rock bordering the spring, his great tail hugged up against his chest and his firm cheeks greeting the man in the water. The big man stared down his muzzle and over his toned body at the eyes peeking out from his crotch, a look of comfort and patience in them. The drenched skunk only heaved one sigh and quivered his lip to say something before resigning himself to the skunk's ass. His chest compressed again under the enforcement of the heat, which seemed to have a real and honest hate for him. Calm as it was steam curled from the surface like snide insults. He gave the asshole a kiss, a pause, and another. He whined and sunk his tongue into it. He tried to keep his breathing still, if only to be able to focus on that, to keep at least a little of his mind to himsef- but yanks on the ears kept his focus where the bigger skunk wanted it.
The lithe skunk tried to think his tongue as a muscle, of the things it could do to please a man. The man didn't seem too pleased. He smacked his tongue in his muzzle to get it slick and curled it deep inside the hole, his mouth opening wide to plunge the tool deep and unable to resist gasping for breath.
The big skunk touched a fingertip to his head and drew a thin strip of precum from the slit. A smile spread across his face. He wiped it off on the other's forehead and took firm hold of the ears, whipping the prostrated man into a sycophantic frenzy. The club in the skunk's lap dominated the servile skunk's vision. He had to cross his eyes to keep the daunting image down to one. If his vision blurred just right it would almost seem to blend into the backdrop of thick, dark tree trunks.
The heavy pair or orbs weighed on his muzzle like river stones. Their weight was truly remarkable, more than anything the smaller skunk could have guessed. The realization that he was likely badly biased by his own outfitting hit him in the gut like a sucker punch and momentarily choked the hard-won air from his lungs. In the heat of the pool it was easy to see the balls as like twin suns harnessed in white fur. As he placed his tongue adventurously under the masses, hoping there would be no punishment for his diversion, it seemed no surprise that the fat rod had sprung to life again so quickly. The cock intimidated him like a brute weapon, but the humility that welled in him at touch of the magnificent nuts played a subtler trick on him. Like overripe fruits, the balls bore a constant demand for release, and of limitless possibility. Would need venting, in fact. Probably needed it all the time, probably something that dominated the bigger skunk's mind like the smaller man fretted over the upkeep of his home, the preparation of his food, his fidelity to his woman. The skunk's face itched where cum had dried on his cheek, over his eyelid and muzzle. He could still taste the savory juice on his tongue and now he could expect more. They would never go away, even if the intimidating cock would grow soft and shrink, those balls would never stop churning, would never stop filling the big man with twinkles in his eyes. The bigger skunk certainly wore his insatiability easily, spreading his legs wide to give the doting man ample space for his work. The aggressive fingers fell onto the skunk's ears again, but this time they scratched almost affectionately at the fur between them. His muzzle opened in a wide smile, his tongue lolling out in exaggerated comfort.
A satisfied growl rose from his throat, even, which set the increasingly eager man all the more diligently to the task. His hands came off the skunk, off his own dick, and started to stroke his lush tail curled up to his chest. Whenever the leash-holder's eyes turned to the other skunk the doleful blue eyes would be staring intently upon that tail. Past the throbbing rod, past the balls he so dutifully worshipped. The bigger skunk combed his fingers through the lush fur, the wide hands inadequate to cover its breadth, but enough to straighen the brisk white lines of his tail into sharp focus. In proportion with all the rest, with everything. The little skunk whimpered as he beheld the proud spectacle.
His own tail curled between his legs to protect his prick from the heat of the pool. The bigger skunk stood up, and dragged the pathetic creature out of the heat by the armpits, dripping pools of water onto the rock from his matted fur. His tail laid there like a dead gray thing, The white fur of his balls tinged to a cherry red.
The stately ebony rod was still slick with the skunk's saliva when it split the skunk's perky cheeks like a spit and ground to a halt halfway inside. The bigger man had clamped his teeth down on the tiny muzzle, but released them to let the invaded man yowl into the emptiness of the woods. He wasn't able to suppress an exuberant grin at the sound howling in his ears. When it grew hoarse and cracked into a tiny, effeminate squeal, he laughed and gave the man a kiss on the forehead. The broad body dwarfed the pinned skunk to his back, one hand bundling the pliant wrists and the other clamped onto the skunk's ass, spreading it open so that the fat rod could make its way as easily as it was going to into the tight ass.
The fucked skunk's jaw hung agape, his chest heaving and struggling against the body pressing against him. He tried to spread himself open, too, tried to convince his trembling body to relax, but it went in the hard way, grinding at every inch.
The bigger man's face was a visage of ease, only his fangs showing in a curled grin of pleasure, not a sound escaping through the tightly latched teeth. Despite the friction he gave the skunk every bit of his dick, his hips pressing forward as slow and sure as the growing of roots until the fat black rod had shoved its last inch into the resistant ass and the last howl out of the tortured throat. The overladen balls rested against the base of the wet, ratlike tail. The tense body clung tight like a vice around the tool, shaking with anxious energy until its tension drained like a reservoir and grew still and yielding. The little skunk's tender, soft cock shrunk from the abuse and the buff probing paw.
The small skunk kept his cheeks spread and put his eyes past the treetops, past the steely glare of the bigger man that tempted being met. He could feel every inch of the incredible rod inside him, could feel almost as if his hips were being displaced, as if space were being tunneled into his gut. He gasped in exasperation, tears welling up in his eyes, as he waited for the final gut-turning sensation that would disabuse him of his last optimisms. The rod withdrew from him and sunk easily this time into his ass, the body's defiance beaten down though the moaning persisted.
He met those verdant eyes and they widened on contact. They sparkled with a fierce drive, focused yet unlined. They seemed to grow more content with every thrust, and the immobile skunk knew he wasn't able to shake those eyes again. They didn't wince, they hardly blinked. The hefty skunk drilled him there like a marker to a tree. He saw every twitch in the lips with each successive onslaught.
The leash was unnecessary now, laying limp and forgotten to the side. The collar seemed immaterial as a restraint under the undulating mass of muscle that pinned him down. He didn't know how to give up, how to admit defeat, as if it ever really were a contest. The behemoth dick battered him like a ram and stretched him open until he could feel an emptiness inside him whenever the girth would slip from his ass to be slapped against his puny cock and balls and regenerated with a spit lube. The bigger skunk burrowed the space out for himself incessantly, with the patience and attention to detail of a man of ownership. He bore into the obdurate flesh almost as if kneading it into lissome muscle under the wet fur. The hips chopped beneath the tail, sinking the stake deeper and with more conviction on each successive thrust.
The sting that made the skunk howl died away like a good angel. When he stopped shouting, and only a weathered wisp of a whine simmered between his lips, the bigger skunk drilled his fat cock into the deepest recesses of the skunk, slapping his heavy balls the spread cheeks until they tightened into his body and deluged waves of cum into the skunk's hole. The sensitive nerves around the beleaguered hole resounded with every throb of the hot meat as it drained, more pulses that the skunk could count. The bigger skunk still rocked his hips as he blew, his seed dripping down the crevice of the skunk's ass while he was still pumping. He drained his head until it became tender, then he pulled out, leaving a mess of spoiled cum between the violated cheeks. The big man knelt on the balls of his feet, his messy cock dripping between his legs. His features brightened, even glowed as he regarded the sloppy scene before him.
It slowly roused itself. It turned itself over onto its stomach, soppy tail doing what little it could to hide the mess behind. Its head faced where the skunk knelt. He reached out and grabbed the strap, though he didn't pull it immediately. The creature didn't put up any more resistence. He didn't reserve any more plans for it. Only the long walk through the woods remained, the trail at first missing, then bare, and widening gradually to lead the feet upon it back to the social comfort of the camp.