FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It's late in the law office of Harris, DeVere, and Copeland. Mr. Harris, a distinguished old tiger with silvered stripes rarely comes into the office anymore, and Mrs. Copeland, an angular hawk, has already gone. The rest of the clerks, interns, and secretaries left an hour ago, but as long as Mr. DeVere, a handsome jackal and my boss, is here, so will I be. I sit at my desk, finally able to type in peace, now that the phones have stopped ringing. I'm just finishing up the last of the documents that Mr. DeVere will need in court in the morning when the intercom beeps. I pick up the phone.

"Yes, Mr. DeVere?"

"Oh good, Kyle - you're still here."

I want to ask him where else I'd be; it's not like I have time to have a social life, what with spending at least twelve hours a day at the office. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Could you come in here for a moment? I need your help with something."

"On my way, sir." I hang up, send the document to print, and rise from my desk, walking down the short hall to Mr. DeVere's office. I knock politely before opening the door and stepping inside. "Yes, sir, what can I-" I stop short at the sight of him lounging in his expensive leather office chair, his slacks undone and his hard cock on full display.

I hesitate, biting my lower lip as I eye his exposed dick. This is definitely sexual harassment, but it would be his word against mine, and I don't feel like losing this job. I need the money, but that's not the only reason, or even the main one, that I don't want to have to quit. I could find another job, but...My boss, Mr. DeVere, is incredibly handsome and charming, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized about this very thing, but I never thought he would come on to me in any seriousness. I mean, he's a senior partner and I'm just a glorified secretary. Finally, I reach back and lock the door. His smile grows wider.

"What can I do for you, Mr. DeVere?" I ask, trying to play coy, but it's just an act. I'm scared to death. I've never done anything like this. Sure, I dated in high school, but every one of my boyfriends called me a cocktease at one time or another, and once word got around that I wouldn't put out or even give head, I suddenly wasn't worth dating. Their loss, in my opinion, but I have to admit I get pretty lonely sometimes. If only I knew if this was something more than just a quick fuck.

"I'd like to dictate a letter to you," my boss says, one paw slowly stroking his shaft. Is that code for some kind of weird sexual position? Then he pulls a sheet of the firm's stationary out of a drawer and places it on his desk, along with a pen. Oh, he actually meant it like it sounded. I walk over and start to pick up the paper. "No, come around here to do it. I don't want to have to talk too loudly."

He pushes his chair back from his desk, making room for me, and I nervously walk over, standing with my tail right at his eye level. "Dearest Kyle," he begins, and I'm so distracted by having to bend over in front of him that I barely notice what I'm writing. "Every day, I watch you work so hard and get so little recognition for your efforts. It's time you were rewarded for a job that is always well done."

He pauses and I finish the last word, then glance back over what I've written to make sure I haven't left out any words. I have a stupid moment where I wonder who this other guy named Kyle is...and then I realize that the letter is to me.

He continues, "I hope you won't think my advances are just those of a horny boss taking advantage of his assistant. I truly admire your dedication and want to show you how much you are appreciated."

I freeze, the pen slipping from my fingers as he places his paws on my hips. I glance back at him and he smiles at me.

"Keep writing," he says. "I'm not finished yet."

I swallow hard and pick the pen back up, the sound of the ballpoint scratching across the thick, expensive paper loud in the silent room. My heart pounds as he reaches around me, one paw rubbing my crotch, before he unbuckles my belt, undoes my trousers, and slides them down my legs.

"Antelope have the nicest legs," he murmurs, his paw sliding up the inside of my thigh. "Are you ready for more?" he asks, and I'm not sure if he's asking about the letter or...something else.

"Yes, sir," I say, my mouth dry.

"I'm going to eat your ass, licking your tight hole until I can shove my tongue deep inside you, until you beg me to put my cock in you, and then I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming my name, and then I'm going to cum inside you and fill you with my hot, sticky cream."

My hoof shakes as I struggle to keep up with the stream of words. I'm panting and my dick has gotten hard, emerging from its sheath and pressing uncomfortably against the front of my briefs. It's a relief when he hooks his claws over the waistband of my underwear and draws them down, my dick springing free. His paws grab my butt and the pen scratches wildly across the paper as I hear his chair roll closer. Then his nose nudges beneath my tail and I gasp, paws gripping the edge of his desk, as his tongue begins to bathe my hole.

I've never felt anything like it, that clever muscle so hot and wet and soft and strong, circling my puckered entrance before pressing against it. I clench, suddenly scared. Isn't the first time supposed to hurt? He licks me a few more times, making my dick dribble precum on the desk, but when he tries to push inside me, I tense up again. He draws back and I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back hot tears of embarrassment.

"Relax, Kyle," he says, his voice kind. "There's nothing to be nervous about."

I swallow hard. "Sorry, sir, I- I've just...I've never been touched back there before."

"What?"

I hang my head in shame. "No one's ever- I mean, I've never-"

"You're a virgin?" He sounds shocked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry-"

"For what? You have nothing to be sorry about. Do you know how long I've dreamed of popping a young man's cherry? Figuratively speaking, of course. This is perfect."

"Really?" I glance over my shoulder at him and he smiles warmly before leaning back in and running his tongue around my hole again. I groan and rest my forehead on the desk, my legs trembling as he begins lapping at my opening like a kitten drinking milk from a saucer. I can't help but lift my butt and press back toward him, my aching cock dripping like a faucet. I start to reach down and stroke myself, but he catches me by the wrist.

"Don't," he says. "You'll cum when I decide."

"Please, Mr. DeVere-"

"I said not yet. It'll be better if you wait. Trust me; I know what I'm doing."

And I don't. But can I trust him? I guess I have no reason not to. I put both hooves back on the desk and moan loud and long as he goes back to eating me. When his tongue finally slips past the ring of muscle, darting in and out and sending a shudder of pleasure rolling up through my body, I bleat out loud, my knees buckling. Only his paws on my butt hold me up. He spreads my cheeks wider, pressing his nose tight under my tail, his breath whuffing through my fur as he works his tongue deep, the tip flicking back and forth against the walls of my passage. I bleat again, aching to cum as the pressure builds inside me. I'm close...almost there...just a little more-

He pulls back and licks his lips. "I must say, you taste quite good, but my tongue is getting tired."

"O- oh...okay," I say, out of breath and trembling. Does that mean we're done? I start to straighten up, but he puts a paw in the middle of my back and gently pushes me back down.

"Hold on, I'm not finished with you yet. I have something here that I've been wanting to give you." He opens one of his desk drawers and pulls out a thing made of wide leather straps and silver snaps.

"What is that?" I ask nervously.

"I'll show you," he says and he grabs my balls in one paw, slowly pulling downward until he has room to wrap one of the straps around the base of my scrotum. He pulls the strap tight and snaps it securely in place. "Does that hurt?" he asks, rubbing his paw against my stretched sack, a sensation that makes me squirm.

"It's a bit...uncomfortable," I say, wishing he'd take it off.

"You'll get used to it," he says. "Now for the other piece." I shudder as his fingers brush against the base of my sheath, fighting the urge to rut against his paws. He wraps another of those straps around my dick and tightens it until I whimper. "There we are - perfect," he says and begins to stroke my throbbing dick. My hips jerk and I thrust into his paw, making him chuckle and stop touching me. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" He swats me on the butt and reaches into his desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube.

He drizzles the thick fluid on two of his fingers, then slips one of them in my ass. I'm shocked at how easily it slides in, clear up to the third knuckle. It feels strange to have something inside of me. I don't know if I like it or not. Then he adds the second finger, scissoring them to stretch me, and the burn in that muscle is unpleasant, but not as painful as I thought it would be. When he thrusts his fingers into me, I push back against him, a heaviness growing low in my belly.

"Are you ready?" he asks. I hesitate, then nod. He grabs my hips and pulls me off the desk, backward onto his lap. "Kick off you shoes and pants," he says, rocking his hips and rubbing his dick against the soft fur at the small of my back. In a moment, I'm naked from the waist down, except for my socks. He loosens my tie and unbuttons my shirt, pulling the collar aside to kiss and bite at the side of my neck. He guides my hooves to the arms of his chair. "Now lift yourself up a bit," he says, his lips brushing against the edge of one big, soft ear and making me shiver. I rise up and feel him guide his dick beneath me, the hot flesh pressing against my slippery hole.

"Now down, nice and slow, and try to stay relaxed." I lower myself, my breath growing short and fast as I feel him slide inside me, the pain sharp. I stop, my arms shaking as I hold myself up.

"I- I can't do it," I gasp. "It hurts."

"Only for a little while," he assures me. "Take a bit more. You can do it." His paw rubs against my back, but I'm scared. I don't want to do this anymore. I start to get up, but his arm wraps around my waist and he grabs my dick. "Where do you think you're going?" he asks, and I bleat in pain as he pulls me down, spearing me on his thick shaft. I arch my back, hardly able to breathe, and he begins to stroke me, the mingled pleasure and pain making my head spin. "See? It's already fading," Mr. DeVere murmurs against the back of my neck. "Just breathe through it." I gasp and shudder, trying not to squirm as his paw plays over my aching cock. He's right, the pain isn't as sharp as before. Now I can feel how full he's made me, his cock deep inside me.

Precum oozes from the slit and he rubs it along my shaft, making me moan and rock my hips. I want to cum so badly, but he stops, sliding his paws under my thighs instead. "Spread your legs," he says, helping me shift my legs to outside of his. He slides forward in his chair and opens his legs wide, forcing mine wider, and he reaches down, pawing my balls for a moment before running his fingertips around the rim of my hole, stretched wide around his shaft. "I hope you're ready for this," he says.

He pulls out a little, then thrusts back up into me, rubbing against something that takes my breath away. The chair creaks as he finds a rhythm, plunging into me again and again, making stars explode behind my closed eyes as I fill the room with my breathless bleats. I've never felt anything so good, never even imagined anything could feel this way. My balls feel so heavy, trying to draw up, but the leather band prevents it. I need to cum, I need to blow my load all across the desk, and I wrap my fingers around myself, jerking my cock feverishly.

"Did I say you could cum yet?" Mr. DeVere asks, grabbing my arms and pulling them behind my back. He yanks my tie off and wraps it around my wrists, tying my hooves together. I'm so stunned I don't even try to fight him. Only after I'm restrained and he has returned to his tireless thrusting do I try to pull free, but I'm tied securely.

"Mr. DeVere," I pant. "Please...Oh! Ah...please..." He doesn't respond, except to grab the bottle of lube and squirt some on his fingers. He wraps his arms around my waist, one paw on my balls, roughly tugging and squeezing, and the one with the lube on it stroking my hole and his dick as he pounds into me. He pants and moans against my neck, his thrusts growing faster, harder, and I bleat helplessly as the ecstasy thunders through me, but I can't cum. My balls ache, my cock throbs, the straps wrapped tight around my privates preventing me from finding release.

"Nnng...nnng...Oh, fuck!" my boss suddenly shouts and I feel his hot cum splash against my insides. He gives one final thrust, his paw wrapping around a large knot that has suddenly formed at the base of his cock, preventing it from pushing inside me, and remains there, shuddering beneath me. I whimper and squirm, trying to get my hooves free, but that just makes his cock keep rubbing inside me, driving me mad.

"Please, sir," I beg. "Can I cum now?"

"Not yet," he says. "I need you to do one more thing for me." He sighs and nuzzles behind one of my ears. "This would be so much easier if I didn't like you so much."

"What?"

"I need you to help me win this big case I've been working on. The prosecutor is willing to 'lose' some extremely damning evidence against my client, but only for a price."

"The prosecutor?" He's a big, broad-shouldered bull, always dressed impeccably in tailored suits. He's visited my boss before about other cases and I was always uneasy about the way he would look at me. He was always polite and professional - never flirty or cheeky like Mr. DeVere - but I got the sense that if he ever got me alone, he'd bend me over and ride my ass hard.

"Yes," my boss says, and I bleat softly as he pulls out of me. "In fact, he should be here any minute." He stands me up, my legs weak and wobbly, and turns me to face him. He looks down at my dick and licks his lips. "When this is all over, I'll suck every last drop of cum out of you, but first..." He unbuttons my shirt and shoves it back off my shoulders, exposing me completely.

"Wh- what are you doing?" I stammer. He walks me across the room and pushes me down into one of the high-backed leather chairs.

"Just relax for a bit," he says, spreading my legs open and hooking a knee over each arm, leaving me very exposed and vulnerable. "Sit there and let us admire that red, sloppy hole, and after he leaves..." He crouches down in front of me and leans close, running his tongue up the underside of my cock, making me whimper and squirm. When he reaches the crown, he wraps his lips around the head and sucks, his tongue flicking up and down the slit. My body jerks and I almost pass out as my balls tighten but can't release.

As I sit there in a daze, he cleans himself up and puts his clothes back in order, then walks to the door and looks out. "Ah, Mr. Markham, sorry to keep you waiting. Please, come in." I watch in horror as he opens the door wide to allow the prosecutor inside, the big bull having to duck to get his horns through the door.

"I only just got here, actually," the bull says, his voice deep and rumbling like thunder. "Traffic was a bi-" He stops dead at the sight of me, his brown eyes widening, and I stare back, my heart starting to pound as an impressive bulge appears in the front of his slacks. "What is this?"

"Call it...a gesture of good faith."

"It's a bribe to lose that videotape."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Hell no," Mr. Markham says, walking toward me. I'm too scared to move. "Consider the tape gone. This is your assistant, isn't it?"

"Yes. His name's Kyle."

"I've been wanting a piece of this ass for months."

"I noticed," my boss says with a smirk. Is this why he came on to me, to get me into this compromising position because he knew the bull wanted me? I am such a fool. Mr. Markham reaches down, rubbing the tip of one large finger around my sore hole. I whimper and try to pull away, but my boss gives me a stern look and I go still. I shouldn't let them do this to me, but I don't think I really have any choice. I can't run with my balls hard as rocks and my dick stiffer than my horns, it's late and the office is deserted so no one will come to my rescue if I scream, and I have no chance of fighting against this mountain of a bull. I'm fucked.

"I see you loosened him up for me," Mr. Markham says, and I bleat in surprise as he sinks a thick finger deep inside me. Holy shit, his finger feels almost as big around as Mr. DeVere's cock. He pumps his finger in and out a few times, making me pant and writhe, the precum rolling down my shaft.

"Well, I didn't want you to kill him with that massive tool of yours," Mr. DeVere says with a chuckle. The bull takes his finger out of me and scoops me up off the chair, carrying me over to my boss's desk. He sets me on my feet, turns me to face the front of the desk, and bends me over, my chest flat against the smooth wooden surface and my dick pressed against the desk front. Mr. DeVere walks around to the other side of the desk and picks up the bottle of lube, tossing it to the bull. "Mind if I join you?" he asks, unbuttoning his trousers again.

"The more the merrier," Mr. Markham says and I hear the rustle of cloth behind me, followed by the sound of a zipper being drawn down. Panic fills my chest and I look up at my boss, standing just in front of me, holding his cock in his paw and slowly stroking it back to full hardness. He's watching the bull as he does so, but then he glances down at me and his sharp, lust-filled eyes soften. He rubs his paw along my cheek, such a tender gesture that for a moment, the fear fades away and I wonder if he might actually have real feelings for me.

Then a wet, sloppy sound reaches my ears and I feel a lubricated finger poke at my hole again before being replaced my something much bigger. I bleat and squeeze my eyes shut, unable to stop my legs from kicking, my hooves finding little purchase on the hard stone-tiled floor, as he stretches me open and works his cock inside, forcing himself in an inch at a time. The pain is unbearable and I feel hot, wet tears roll down my face, leaving damp tracks in my fur.

Gentle paws touch my face, a quiet, soothing voice in my ear. "That's it, Kyle, just let him in, don't fight it. You're doing great. He's almost in now, just a bit more, and when we're done here, I'll take you home with me and let you fuck my ass all night. I'll even let you cum in me."

"It's not nice to tell the kid lies, Lucas," the bull said, his deep voice strained. "In all the years I've known you, you've never bottomed for anyone."

"Just because I won't bottom for you, Herschel," Mr. DeVere says, standing back up. He nudges the head of his cock against my lips. "C'mon, Kyle, open your mouth." I want to refuse, but the bull suddenly pulls half out before thrusting back in and I bleat in surprise. My boss's cock slides into my mouth and he grabs my horns, one in each paw, using them for leverage as he begins to pump his hips, thrusting clear to the back of my throat. I try not to gag, focusing instead on sucking and stroking him with my tongue, because the sooner he cums, the sooner he'll stop.

"Oh, Kyle," Mr. DeVere moans, and the sound of my name spoken in such a way actually turns me on. I suck harder, moaning around the thick shaft in my mouth.

"I think the little slut is actually enjoying it," Mr. Markham says and my face heats up from shame.

"Don't call him that," my boss says and I feel a rush of gratitude. The bull begins thrusting steadily, his dick so deep it feels like it's in my stomach, and every movement rubs against the place inside me that takes my breath away. I make desperate, pleading noises around Mr. DeVere's cock, the need to cum a constant, throbbing weight in my groin, more unbearable than the pain of having the bull enter me. That pain has all but faded, replaced by pleasure so intense I don't have words for it. My balls tighten, trying to eject their massive load, and I feel light-headed. Mr. Markham is grunting and groaning, his breath hot on the back of my neck as he plunges into me again and again, harder and faster, his huge ballsack beating against mine.

Mr. DeVere's thrusts grow quick and short, his breath coming in short, urgent hisses, and he cries out as he spills himself in my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, but some leaks from the corners of my mouth, dribbling down my jaw and onto the desk. Mr. Markham suddenly bellows, a sound that rattles the crystal tumblers in the liquor cabinet, and buries himself in me, his hot cum filling me and spilling out around his cock to run down the insides of my legs. My boss pulls his spent cock out of my mouth, I take a deep, grateful breath, and promptly pass out.

~*~*~*~

When I wake up, I'm lying on something soft. A bed. How did I get into bed? The last thing I remember is- I draw a sharp breath, my heart starting to race. I was in Mr. DeVere's office, being fucked by both him and that bull prosecutor. So how did I get here? I lift my head and look around. The room is neat and sparsely furnished, but clearly decorated by someone with taste. I push back the blankets and find myself wearing a pair of soft flannel pajamas a size too large. I'm in someone's bed, in someone's bedroom, wearing someone's pajamas...

I try to get up but the pain in my ass makes me bleat in shock. That bull must have ripped me apart! The bedroom door opens and I stare in surprise as Mr. DeVere sticks his head into the room.

"Oh, you're awake," he says. "Don't try to get up, just rest. I-" He looks down at the floor. "I'm sorry about Markham. I just...I didn't think I could win the case if that tape found its way into evidence."

"Glad I could help," I say bitterly. "Now where the hell am I and where the hell are my clothes?"

He has the nerve to look hurt by my tone. "I sent your clothes to the cleaners," he says, stepping a little farther into the room. He's wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, his hind paws bare. "I had to dress you to bring you here and you...leaked a little." I blush at the thought of what was inside me.

"I need to go," I say, gritting my teeth against the pain as I sit up and swing my legs out of the bed. He rushes over to my side and takes my arm to help me up.

"The bathroom is just through here," he says, trying to lead me across the room. I shrug him off.

"No, I want to leave," I say, my steps short and hobbling as I head for the door he came in through.

"Kyle, please..." he says, following after me, but he's not the reason that I stop. Something doesn't feel right. I put a hoof to my crotch, my dick soft in its sheath but my balls like two stones. I pull down the front of the pajamas to find my balls still bound by a leather strap.

"What the fuck is this?" I demand, reaching down to pop the snap. He grabs my wrists and pulls my hooves away.

"You were so worked up, I didn't want you to cum in your sleep and make a mess in the bed-"

"Fuck your bed!" I shout at him, the anger inside me finally spilling over. "How could you do that to me? I should have you arrested!"

"You're right, you should," he says, "but you won't because then you'd have to tell them that you liked it, so don't play the victim with me. You could have said no. Now, I said I was sorry, so please, lie back down and let me prove just how sorry I am."

I hesitate. "How sorry are you?"

"Very. I dressed you and carried you down to my car, I drove you to my apartment, I washed the cum out of your fur and applied ointment to your asshole. And now I'm making you breakfast."

I am hungry. "What are you making?"

He gives me a hesitant smile. "Oatmeal with fresh apple slices and cinnamon."

"That does sound good," I admit. He owes me a lot more than breakfast, though. I look back down at the leather band wrapped around my balls. "Can I take this damn thing off now?"

"Better let me do it," he says, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me to the bed. He's stronger than he looks. He lays me down on the blankets and slides the pajama bottoms down around my knees before pushing up the bottom of the shirt. "This could get messy," he explains. And to my surprise, he begins stroking my sheath, my cock emerging like a gopher popping up out of its hole.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Keeping my promise," he says and he leans over me, taking my dick into his mouth. I moan and shudder as he starts sucking, his tongue sliding up and down the shaft as he bobs his head, taking me to the back of his throat. My hips jerk involuntarily, the pain in my rectum sharp and intense. Mr. DeVere puts his paws on my hips to hold me still, deep-throating me for a moment before drawing back, his lips and tongue teasing and stroking the head of my cock as he sucks me like he would suck on a straw in a thick milkshake. He moves one paw to my balls, stroking the tight globes and making me want to squirm.

"Please, sir, I can't take any more," I pant. I think I'm going to explode. Suddenly, he pops the snap, releasing the band, and my balls draw up, free to release their pent-up load. The sensation is indescribable, rocking me harder than any orgasm I've ever given myself, and I pump one thick jet of cream after another into my boss's mouth. He swallows and keeps sucking, finding a rhythm with the spasms that rack my body, and it feels like he's sucking the cum right out of me. He doesn't stop until I'm spent and exhausted, my cock softening and slipping back into its sheath.

I can't even move as he crawls up the bed and lies down beside me, pulling me into his arms. I push him away. I don't want to be held, not by him, not after what he did, and if he thinks a blow-job is adequate recompense, he's even more of an idiot than I was.

"Aw, c'mon, Kyle, don't be like that. I said I was sorry."

"Not yet, you're not," I say, because now I have the power. I don't have to worry about losing my job, because if he fires me, I'll have nothing left to lose. "Maybe I wouldn't go to the police...but maybe I would. Maybe I'll go talk to the judge presiding over your case. Maybe I'll talk to the District Attorney. Maybe I'll write a letter to the Bar Association. Because it won't matter to them if I enjoyed it or not."

He sits up slowly, looking down at me with flattened ears and hard, amber eyes. "What do you want?"

"I want a raise," I say. "Three times what I get now, and I want three weeks of paid vacation. And I want a new car. And an apartment."

"I'll pay you half again as much as you're getting now, with one week of vacation. No car. No apartment."

"Twice as much, and I want a car," I insist.

"Fine," he says, getting up off the bed and stalking toward the door. "I guess I should have seen you coming, gold-digging little whore." He walks out, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving me speechless and flabbergasted. I'm the one who got raped, I'm the one who got their ass traded like a commodity, and he's the one who's pissed? What fucking right does he have to be angry at me?

I get up, putting the borrowed pajamas in order, and hobble with as much fury as I can muster, out into the kitchen, where he's stirring a pot of hot oats. "You've got a lot of nerve," I say. "After what you did to me-"

He grabs me and slams me back against the refrigerator, the tips of my horns screeching across the stainless steel finish. "What I did to you was a mistake," he growls through his sharp teeth, "and apparently not the only one that I made. But I guess I was an idiot to think you were interested in anything more than my money." He lets go and returns to the stove, turning off the burner and starting to spoon the oatmeal into bowls.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Never mind. Just the regrets of an old fool." He carries both bowls to the table, sets one at the near end, then walks to the far end and takes a seat, his head bowed and shoulders hunched as he begins to eat. After a moment, I take a hesitant step toward the table. He drops his spoon into the bowl with a clatter and looks up at me. "You have no idea how hard it was to let Markham do that to you, but I had no choice. Do you know who my client is?"

I shake my head.

"The nephew of Don Moretti," Mr. DeVere says, and I draw a sharp breath. The trial of Vino Moretti has been all over the front page of the newspapers for weeks, not that I've had time to read the paper. I think he's accused of murdering some politician or something. "Exactly," Mr. DeVere says. "If I lose this case, the Don will have my head on a platter - and that's not a figure of speech." The Moretti family, a clan of stoats, weasels, and ferrets, had a fearsome reputation for eating anyone who crossed them. In a society where predation hadn't been practiced in hundreds of years, it was barbaric.

"I'm sorry," he continues. "You have no idea how sorry I am, but I was desperate and I didn't see another way."

"You could have told me," I say, stepping over to the table and taking a seat, the hard chair making me wince. Maybe I wouldn't be so mad if I hadn't thought he actually wanted me.

"I should have, I know, but...I couldn't risk that you'd say no. This is my life we're talking about."

Stung, I snort and pick up my bowl. "I want an automatic, dark blue or green, no more than five years old, a coupe or sedan. And you can let me know when my clothes are back." I hobble into his bedroom and slam the door, sinking down on the end of his bed as I pick at the bowl of oats. I'm hungry and it tastes good, but I'm so angry my stomach is churning.

How many years have I been working for him, slaving for him, coming in early, staying late, never complaining, always smiling, running errands, doing favors, never once reporting him for staring at my ass or 'accidentally' brushing against me - How could he seriously think that I wouldn't have done this for him, too, if he had just asked. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for him...if he'd just asked.

~*~*~*~

I leave as soon as my clothes get back from the cleaners and I call in sick to work for the next three days. Then, this morning, I wake up to the sound of someone knocking on my apartment door. It's a coyote from a car dealership. He hands me the keys and title to a used car. I find it parked on the street in front of my building, a cute little blue coupe with enough headroom to accommodate my long horns, and I feel a little guilty and disgusted with myself. I really am a gold-digging whore.

I take the subway to work and am busy catching up on three days worth of filing when Mr. DeVere comes in. He sees me and stops dead. I can't look at him; my face heats up and I fumble with the files until he goes on into his office. I'm tense all day, waiting for him to come back out, and I jump every time the phone rings, but it's never him.

The day winds down, the office slowly emptying, and I'm getting ready to leave on time for once, when I glance up and see Markham, the bug bull prosecutor, striding across the room toward me, a smirk on his face and a noticeable bulge in his trousers. I want to crawl under my desk, but I just sit there as he stops in front of me.

"I'm here to see Mr. DeVere," he rumbles.

I swallow hard and pick up the phone, dialing Mr. DeVere's extension. "Mr. Markham is here to see you," I say when he answers.

"Oh," Mr. DeVere replies, sounding surprised. "Send him back, please. Um...Kyle-" I hang up.

"You can go on back," I say to the bull.

He leans down, his breath warm against my ear as he says, "Aren't you going to show me the way?"

I draw back, my ear flicking like I'm shooing a fly. "I think you know the way," I say, my voice cold. He chuckles and heads back to Mr. DeVere's office.

"What do you want, Herschel?" I hear Mr. DeVere ask, then the door shuts. I go back to straightening up my desk and shutting down my computer, leaving notes for myself off all the things I need to do tomorrow when suddenly Mr. DeVere's voice comes through the closed door and down the hall to me. "You son-of-a-bitch!" he shouts and I hear the sound of glass breaking, like maybe a cup hitting the stone tiled floor.

I jump up out of my chair, my first instinct to go see if he's all right, but my ass still hurts, and that reminds me that I don't care if he's all right. In fact, I hope he's getting bent over his desk this time. Stepping out from behind my desk, I start toward the closet where employees put their coats, purses, and briefcases, but stop short when I hear the door to Mr. DeVere's office open.

"If you change your mind, you know how to reach me," Markham says, pulling the door closed behind him, a smug smirk on his face as he swaggers down the hall toward me. he starts to walk past me, then stops and turns back. "Looks like your boss is in a bit of a predicament," he says. "Are you going to help him out again?"

"What, did you find another video tape?" I ask.

"Photographs, this time," he says. "Extremely damning evidence. So what do you say?"

What can I say? If Mr. DeVere loses this case, he's as good as dead, and even as angry as I am at him, I don't want him to die. I square my shoulders and stare up at the big bull. "Yes," I say. "I'll do it, but this is the last time. I don't care if you find another tape, more pictures, the murder weapon, or a signed confession - you make it disappear or I'm going to the police, the DA, the judge, and the Bar Association. I will ruin you if you try to pull this shit again. Understood?"

He has the nerve to chuckle. "Now I see why he's so stuck on you. Fine, but you're going to earn it. What do you say we go back to my place?"

That's the last place I want to go. I shake my head and glance around the office. It's empty. "Right here, or you can forget it."

"Fine by me," he says, shrugging off his expensive suit jacket and tossing it into my chair. My mouth is dry, my heart thumping inside my chest as I unbutton my slacks and turn around, shoving them down to expose the soft, white fur on my ass. I jump as huge, warm hooves cup my cheeks, squeezing hard. This is going to hurt so much.

Then I hear the door to Mr. DeVere's office open and my heart stops. "Kyle, I-"

I glance over, mortified to see him standing in the hall, staring at Markham and I. I should have agreed to back to the bull's place.

Mr. DeVere's face darkens with anger, his pointed ears lying flat and his lips pulling back from his teeth as he snarls. "Herschel, what the fuck do you think you're doing? I said no."

"But your assistant said yes," Markham says, his deep voice smug. "He's such a helpful little thing."

"Get your fucking hooves off of him," Mr. DeVere orders. He points down the hall. "My office, Herschel. Now."

I'm surprised when Markham lets go of me and heads down the hall. Mr. DeVere stands there for another moment, pure fury etched into his features, then he turns and stalks back into the office, slamming the door behind him. I pull my pants back up, laying Markham's jacket on my desk as I sink down into my chair. I want nothing more than to get the hell out of there, to find a new job and maybe take up drinking, but I sit and wait, though for what, I'm not sure.

I stiffen, turning toward the hall as I hear Markham's deep bellow. He didn't...did he? After a few more minutes, the door opens and Markham saunters out, a pleased smile on his face. He pauses beside my desk to put his jacket back on.

"I hope you appreciate what your boss just did for you," he says. I watch him leave, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. What did Mr. DeVere do? I make my way down the hall and peer in through the open door. My boss is standing in front of his desk, his suit jacket tossed over the back of his chair, the dark fur at the corners of his mouth clumped with something thick and white, and he keeps licking his lips as he wipes at a wet spot on his tie. He glances up, his ears flattening as he sees me in the doorway.

"Trying to get that apartment, were you?" he asks, his words like a slap in the face.

I step farther into the room, my shoulders squared and my jaw set. I'm done taking abuse from him. "I thought a raise and a car would make me feel better, but it didn't. I just feel cheap and used, so you can have the car back, and you can keep the raise and the vacation. I quit. I done working for someone who thinks so little of me." I turn and stalk back down the hall.

"Kyle!" he shouts after me. "Do you know what I just did for you?"

I stop and glance back. "You didn't do anything for me, you did it to save your own hide, and so you wouldn't owe me anything else. Funny thing is, an apartment never even crossed my mind. I said yes to Markham because, for some stupid fucking reason, I didn't want you to get killed."

I grab my coat out of the closet, my coffee mug out of the break room, and I leave. And I don't look back.

~*~*~*~

I'm still angry when I get home. I change my clothes and go for a run in the park, something I haven't been able to do in months. The rhythmic pounding of my hooves on the packed earth trails helps to clear my head, the rush of the fresh air filling my lungs bleeds away the anger. I arrive back at my apartment tired and sweaty just before dark, and make my way up the stairs on aching legs. Maybe I overdid it a bit, but it felt good to be running again.

Digging my keys out of my pocket as I walk down the long hall, I glance up to find Mr. DeVere standing outside my apartment door, holding a paper shopping bag. My steps falter, but then I stride forward. This is my apartment - he has no right to be here.

"What do you want?" I ask. He has five seconds to answer, less if I can get the door unlocked quicker.

"Kyle, I'm sorry," he says. "I was an idiot. I fucked up, but I want to make it up to you. I want to show you how sorry I am."

"By sucking my dick again?" I ask, getting the door open.

"I wanted to make you dinner," he says as I step inside. "Kyle, please-" I close the door in his face, shaking from the inside out as I lean back against the wood. I want to believe him; I want to believe that he's really sorry, but I don't want to make another mistake. I've made far too many in the past few days. I realize I might be making another one, but can I really trust him? Do I dare?

I pull the door open and step out into the hall. Mr. DeVere is halfway to the stairwell, his head down, ears and tail drooping. I swallow hard. God, I hope I'm doing the right thing. "Mr. DeVere," I call after him, "wait..." He turns back, ears pricking hopefully. "I...maybe I've been an idiot, too. Would you like to come in?"

He hurries back down the hall, giving me one of his charming smiles as he steps past me into the apartment. I take a moment to compose myself before I follow him. I'm not going to fall for him, not again. Not tonight, at least.

"So...what's for dinner?" I ask. He's already found the kitchen and is making himself at home, taking everything out of the bag and setting the items on the counter.

"I thought I'd make a fresh green salad and my grandma's lasagna. She made the best lasagna. And I brought a bottle of wine," he says as I eye the bottle.

"I'm not much of a drinker," I say, in case his idea of an apology involves getting me drunk and having his way with me.

Oh," he says, like he's realizing I won't be as easy as he thought. "Well, you don't have to have any, but half a glass would really bring out the flavor of the lasagna."

"Oh, okay," I say. I don't want to get in another fight with him. I suddenly realize that I'm still in my sweats, my fur stinking like perspiration. "I'm going to go shower," I say, heading for the bathroom.

"No hurry," he calls after me. "This takes a while to cook."

Great, just what I need, him hanging around all night. I'm not mad at him anymore - well, maybe just a little - but I am worried that if he starts laying on the charm, I won't be able to resist. I shut myself in the bathroom and lock the door, just to be safe.

Letting the hot water soak my short, smooth coat, I lather up with my favorite raspberry and honey bodywash, then shampoo my short black hair and soap up my hollow, bony horns. I take my time rinsing off, but eventually the water starts to get cold and I have to get out. I turn off the water and shake, then step out and grab a towel. After fluffing my fur, I use the blow dryer and style my hair, then I grab my clothes-

Ah, shit. I forgot to get any clean clothes to change into. This is all his fault. Wrapping my damp towel around my waist, I unlock the door and peer out. I can smell spices and tomato sauce, but I don't hear any sounds coming from the kitchen. Maybe he left.

Sneaking out of the bathroom, I cross the hall to my bedroom to grab some clothes, and stop short at the sight of Mr. DeVere lying on my bed, his paws folded on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling. He glances over at me, his lips twitching in a smile.

"I hope you don't mind, I've got some time to kill while the lasagna bakes and I couldn't find anything on TV to watch."

"So you decided to take a nap?" I ask, stepping over to my dresser, one hand clutching at my towel to make sure it stays in place while I dig around for some clothes.

"No," he says with a chuckle. "I thought maybe you and I could find something to do to pass the time."

"Sorry, I don't have any board games," I say, jeans, T-shirt, and briefs in hand as I head back toward the bathroom.

"Kyle, wait," he says and I hear the bedsprings creak. I know I should run, but I hesitate. I turn and find him right behind me. I try to take a step back, but he pushes me up against the wall. My body stiffens, my heart climbing into my throat, but he doesn't assault me. He doesn't even touch me, planting his paws against the wall on either side of my shoulders, his breath hot on the side of my neck. I swallow hard.

"Please, sir...don't do this," I whisper.

"Easy, Kyle, I'm not going to do anything. I made that mistake once already - I won't do it again."

"Then what is this?"

"I just want you to listen to me," he says. "You've been so mad - and you've had every right to be, don't get me wrong - but you haven't been hearing what I've been trying to say. I'm sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life. I should have trusted you, I should have had faith in you, because I like you, Kyle. I like you a lot. Maybe more than a lot. Maybe I'd like the chance to love you, if you think you could ever forgive me for my mistakes."

I'm trembling inside, because there is something so sincere in his voice, in his deep, amber eyes, that I can't doubt him. "I...I forgive you," I say, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "I like you, too."

He kisses me, and even though making out was one of the few things I'd done with my boyfriends in high school, it quickly becomes obvious how little I know on the subject, and what lousy kissers they all were. Mr. DeVere strokes my neck with his paws, his tongue confidently finding its way into my mouth, but it neither gags me nor flops around like a stranded smelt. I groan into his mouth as he licks at my tongue and the roof of my mouth, stirring feelings and parts of my anatomy that I didn't know could be stirred by just kissing.

Paws slide down my chest, his claws tickling my nipples before migrating down to the towel wrapped around me waist. Before I realize what he's doing, the towel is gone, tossed behind him onto the bed, and I'm naked, sandwiched between him and the wall, my cock shyly emerging from my swelling sheath. He cups me with one paw, stroking my soft fur and gently squeezing my balls until I'm panting helplessly, my knees weak.

"Please, sir..." I gasp. "Mr. DeVere, please..."

His hand goes still and he lifts his chin, his muzzle brushing the edge of one of my ears as he murmurs, "Call me Lucas." He steps back and I watch, breathless, as he takes off his tie, then unbuttons his shirt. He has a nice physique - strong shoulders and a narrow waist, the golden fur at his throat spreading over his chest and down his flat abs, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a bottle of lube, which he tosses onto the bed beside the towel, and I can't even be angry at his presumption as he undoes his slacks and slides them off, a pair of black silk boxers stretched taut over his crotch, his cock clearly defined through the thin material.

He stops suddenly. "Is this all right?" he asks. The fact that he would bother to ask leaves no doubt that he's a changed jackal. I muster my courage and step away from the wall, sinking to my knees before him and nuzzling the bulge in his boxers. He whimpers, one paw brushing against my cheek. "Kyle, you don't have to do that."

"I want to," I say, my hooves catching at his boxers and slowly drawing them down. As the tip of his cock emerges from beneath the waistband, I capture it with my lips and suckle his sensitive flesh, making him sigh and groan. I've never done this before, but I remember what he did to me and how it felt, and I try to do the same, licking along his shaft as I roll his golden-furred ballsack against my palm.

He suddenly steps back, his breathing fast and ragged as he looks down at me. I wonder if I was doing it wrong, when he offers me his paw and helps me up off the floor. Without a word, he leads me to the bed and I stare in disbelief as he crawls into the center of the mattress, resting on knees and elbows with his tail raised, his deep red cock hanging down beneath him, a bead of precum dangling from the tip.

"B- but, sir- Mr. De- I- I've never-" I stammer.

"Relax, Kyle," he says softly. "It's easy as falling off a log. Just take the lube, use your fingers, and loosen me up a bit before you fuck me senseless, okay?"

"But sir, I don't want to fuck you senseless."

"Aw, c'mon," Mr. DeVere says, his tail wagging slowly from side to side. "I want to feel that hard, hot cock deep inside me, I want to feel you shoot all over my insides. Don't make me beg, Kyle."

I swallow hard and climb onto the bed with him, fumbling with the lube as I pop open the lid and drizzle the thick, clear gel along one of my fingers. I keep my hoof-tips filed down and rounded to make it easier to type, so I don't think the hard nubs will hurt him, but I'm careful anyway, slowly inserting my finger into his hot, tight asshole. His muscles grip the digit as he lets out a low groan, his toned body shaking as he pants heavily.

"Is this okay?" I ask, working that one finger in and out of his body.

"I'd forgotten how good it feels," Mr. DeVere groans. "More. Please."

"How long has it been since you've done this?" I ask, curious. I gently add a second finger and more lube, sliding them deep and making his back arch.

"Ten years, give or take," he pants, shifting restlessly. "That's good, that's good - fuck me, Kyle, fuck me now."

I hesitate, uncertain. "If you want this so much, why haven't you done it in so long? Are you just doing this because you told me you would-"

"No." He shakes his head. "No. I haven't done this because I haven't had anyone in my life that I trusted enough. I worked my ass of to make senior partner, and then I kept working to keep it, and I never had time to build a relationship with anyone...until you. Now quit teasing and gimme that cock."

I quickly slather more lube on my cock and then rise to my knees behind him. Leaning over his back, I guide my cock to his opening, pressing the tip against his slick, puckered entrance. He groans, loud and long, as I sink into him, his muscles gripping, squeezing my cock, his body hotter and tighter than I'd imagined. I pull back and thrust forward again, my fingers digging into his hips. It feels so good! I'd always thought it wouldn't feel much different than jerking off, but boy, was I wrong. I grunt and pant, thrusting, fucking, hammering into him, the pleasure building until- I let out a startled bleat and cum, a shudder running through my body as my hips jerk, filling Mr. DeVere with my cum.

Out of breath, I pull back and notice his straining cock twitching with need beneath him. "Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "I should have..." I start to reach beneath him, but he grabs my wrist, pulling me up alongside of him and deftly flipping me onto my back. He kisses me, paws moving through my short fur as he coaxes my legs apart and moves between them. I gasp as a lubed finger prods my hole, but I don't try to resist. I want this.

I'm still a little sore and his stretching hurts, but once his hot cock slides inside, I feel nothing but bliss. I wrap my arms around his strong shoulders, crossing my ankles behind his back, as he begins to rock into me, setting a slow and deliberate rhythm that has me groaning and writhing beneath him. I throw my head back and I think my horns impale my pillow, but I don't care. He licks my face, long, slow strokes with his warm, gentle tongue, back along my jaw to my neck, and he nuzzles up to my ear.

"I love you, Kyle," he whispers.

I can't speak, I can hardly breathe as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper, hitting that spot that makes me bleat helplessly. I feel him reach down, wrapping his paw around the bulge at the base of his cock to keep it out of me, but I don't want it out, I want him, all of him, inside me.

"It's...okay," I pant. "Do it. Knot me."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Mr. De- Yes, Lucas." I run my fingers through his impeccably trimmed hair, biting back a cry as he drives his hips forward, his knot pressing against my hole before popping inside. He throws back his head and howls and I feel the knot swell, tying us together as he cums in me, the frenetic jerking of his hips tipping me over the edge and I moan as I cum across my own chest.

The smell of sweat and sex is thick in the air as we lay gasping in each other's arms, my body trembling as I recover from a second intense climax in just a short while. He's still stuck inside me and I have a feeling we'll be this way for a while, but I don't mind. his strong arms feel good wrapped around me, his paws absently stroking up and down my spine. I lie there, basking in the afterglow, letting the memory wash over me while it's still fresh and tactile, and I suddenly realize what he said.

I raise my head to look at him and hear my pillowcase rip as my horns pull free. Damn, but I have bigger concerns. "Did you...did you really mean what you said, or was that just in the heat of the moment?"

"When I said I loved you?" he asks. I nod. "I meant it. I love you. And it's okay if you don't-"

"I love you, too," I say, the words leaving me in a rush. "And I'm not just saying that because you did. I love you, I have for a while. That's why I got so mad when you-" I shake my head. "But I don't want to talk about that any more. That's in the past. I want to focus on my future."

"Your future?" Mr. DeVere asks, arching an eyebrow.

I smile at him. "Yes; I need to find a new job. I quit this afternoon, remember?"

He chuckles. "Well, I think I can pull a few strings and get you hired back."

"Discretely, I hope," I say. "I don't want anyone thinking I'm getting special treatment because I'm sleeping with the boss."

"Of course," he says, and kisses me. Breathless, I finally pull away and let my head flop back into my pillow...and watch as a cloud of snowy white down feathers erupts from the tear in my pillow case and shoots up into the air like water from a geyser.

"Oops," I say as the feathers drift down over us like winter's first snowfall, settling in our fur as we hold each other close and laugh until our sides hurt.