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Ember was the very definition of nervous. His jaws were clenched and his teeth gnashed together, leaving his jowls pulled into a grimace. His eyes were wide, positively unsure of anything and everything, and over them, his eyebrows nearly met, the both of them slanting downwards at an almost sheer angle. He gazed into his palm, in which he clutched a napkin. It was exactly the kind of napkin you'd expect to find at a bar-slash-club - single-ply and almost transparently thin, absolutely worthless for cleaning up any kind of mess - but scrawled on it was a phone number. There was no name with it, but no need for one, for Ember knew exactly when and where the napkin had been slipped onto his person. He recalled the name of the person. Desmond. A benign name. Kind of handsome, actually. Dez. Even cute, vaguely southern, but the name filled Ember with an ambivalent cocktail of dread and desire; a deceptively feminine foxcoon by the name of Desmond had, in very short order, turned him into a completely worthless bitch. The wolf harbored no shame in admitting he was already quite bottom, but Desmond brought about slutty behavior that Ember didn't realize he was capable of. Sex with piss; not just wearing it on his fur, but drinking it, gulping it down like it was the only liquid he'd seen after a month in the desert, followed shortly after by yet more lewd antics in the back alley with a handful of men who were simply in the wrong place at the right time. Ember shuddered and crumpled the napkin tight, his eyes rolling back in his head. "I can't believe I'm gonna do this," whined the wolf to nobody in particular - especially since he was home alone. The wolf slowly sat down at his kitchen table, carefully unfurled the napkin, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Ember? Yeah, I remember you. My bitch wolf," Desmond chuckled. "I knew you'd call sooner or later, you, uh," Ember heard the sound of a long, slow drag, probably off of a cigarette. "You had that air about you." Ember paused for a whole second, then, in a miraculously stable tone, "Desmond, look, I," the wolf briefly stuttered, "I really can't do that again. What happened that night was just, you know, a one-time thing, okay?" There was a pause. One, two, three whole seconds. Four seconds. And then: "So you're ashamed of yourself." Ember physically flinched, flattened his ears, and slumped over the table while stifling a whimper. "I figured as much," Desmond chuckled, "submissive little bitch like you probably needs to be told left, right, left when he's walking." Ember started to feel anger burning in his cheeks, a sensation he was only tersely familiar with, and he didn't know just how to put it to work. "N-now you just wait a minute!" he croaked into the phone, raking his claws along the varnished surface of his table with an impotent rage; Desmond didn't wait. He didn't even pause for a second, offering Ember no time to build up a defense, to rally himself with his anger. "Unzip your pants, bitch wolf. Do it. Get your cock hard." Though Desmond's voice was smooth and easy, Ember faltered. "Wh-what? No," the wolf gasped, doing his absolute best to embrace the anger, knowing instinctively that it was his only hope. "No! I won't do it!" Distantly, he knew he could end it all just by pressing the little red button on his phone, the one conveniently marked END, but, like ogling a nasty car crash and waiting to see a mangled corpse, he sat in rapt, dark attention, hoping for Desmond to push him harder. "Bitch wolf. Do it. Do it! Get your cock out, get it hard. Hard, come on," Desmond hissed, answering Ember's pitiful whimper with one more word. "Now."

Ember closed his moistening eyes as he reached beneath the table. Tooth by tooth, he tugged his zipper down. "Well?" Desmond whispered, hissing pure venom into his ear, and Ember pictured him with a grin, stroking his erect penis. "I'm doing it," whimpered Ember in such a tiny voice that Desmond almost didn't hear it. Freeing the button from its' denim slot, Ember shimmied and squirmed in his seat until he got his jeans somewhere around his knees, but he let his briefs stay where they were. Tugging the elastic down, he exposed his sheath, already starting to bulge with a forbidden arousal that he wanted no part of. "I'm getting hard, I'm doing it," he gasped to Desmond with defeat apparent in his tone, squeezing and fondling himself, soon luring the reddish-white tip of his canine penis out. "That's good, bitch. Now, get a cup." Falling under the tod's spell again, Ember said not a single word, offering only complicity. Scooting the chair back, he stood from it, stepped out of his slack jeans, and rummaged through his cabinet before choosing a tall glass. "Ember, bitch wolf, are you listening to me?" Ember sat the glass down, then clutched his erection - fully hard, and all from the domineering vulpine on the other end of his phone. "Mhm," squeaked the bitch wolf. The fox chuckled and licked his lips - Ember could hear it. "Piss in the cup, Ember."

Ember bit his lip in a moment of thought. "I need to set the phone down to do that." Desmond paused thoughtfully, then: "Fine. Send me a picture of it when it's full." Ember unconsciously nodded, then agreed. Setting the phone on the counter, he glanced at one window and then the other; he couldn't remember ever seeing anybody outside of his windows, but it was a chance he couldn't bear to take. Holding the glass low, he clutched his swollen, red penis and angled it into the cup. Letting loose, he filled it nearly to the brim with a relaxed sigh. The wolf carefully set the warm glass down on the counter, then grabbed his phone. "Um," he uttered, "I'm gonna send a picture now, hold on." Just talking was an unbearable effort as he tried to muddle through his shame, and so he ended the call before Desmond could say even a single word. Though freed from Desmond's hooks, not once did Ember consider disobeying. He leaned close and snapped a clear photo of the foamy glass; at a glance, it looked like a glass of beer, but the cloudy liquid was easily identified as urine. He sent the picture to Desmond's number and then waited, looking nervously at the glass, feeling an unspeakable thirst at the sight of it. Ember simply knew it was going back inside of him; it was just a question of when. Consciously, it sickened him. The notion of gulping down urine revolted him to his very core, but the more he thought about it... And as he remembered the intensely bitter taste... His erection finally throbbed, sending a shiver up his spine. Leaning down low, he gave the glass a tentative sniff, likening the tickling fizz of the decaying foam to a freshly-poured soda. "Oh, god," he shuddered, closing his eyes tight. In his palm, the phone buzzed for his attention, and Ember looked at the screen with anxious eyes. Please tell me to drink it, please, please, Desmond, I can't do it on my own... Tell me to drink it...

Good pic, bitch. drink it 4 me now. take a pic when ur done, i wanna see your muzzle dripping yellow

Ember dropped the phone on the counter and lifted the glass with trembling paws. Like drinking from a holy chalice filled with the blood of Christ himself, he brought the rim to his lips and slowly tilted the cheap vessel. As the first splash hit his tongue, he grimaced, then moaned, the strangled sound of a slut beyond description burrowing its' way out of his body. Even his own piss was so bitter, so intensely off-putting, but he started to greedily gulp it down. The smell burrowed into his sinuses and wrenched involuntary tears from his eyes, but the piss temporarily extinguished a sexual sickness he knew he soon wouldn't be able to cope with. With his drink at last gone, he lapped at the inside of the glass, whimpering after his fourth lick of the already well-licked surface, and then grabbed his phone again. The photo he snapped of his own face was everything he expected himself to look like; desperate, helplessly aroused, panting with his tongue involuntarily dangling out of his mouth, his lips and chin dampened with an incriminating, yellow liquid. He sent the photo off to Desmond and absently laid the glass in the sink, leaning against the counter. The wolf canted his head towards the floor, his phone clutched in one paw, his knot in the other, and he waited to feel his phone buzz. When it finally did, he couldn't read the foxcoon's text fast enough.

real good, thanks for the new wallpaper bitch. ;) cancel any plans you got tonite. dont jerk off. ill txt you my address later. see you tonite.

After he parked outside of Desmond's apartment block, Ember shut off his car and looked at his cellphone for the time; 8:34 PM, more or less on schedule. The walk across the street, into the building, and up to Desmond's room was the most nerve-wracking five minutes of his life. His heart was wedged in his throat when he knocked on the door and waited for the fox to answer. Seconds went by at the speed of centuries, but finally, the lock clicked, and the door slowly opened. Ember expected to see the fox with horns and wings, as though he forgot to put on his mortal disguise before the wolf showed up to his lair, though he was relieved when Desmond appeared normally, and in fact quite benign; he was dressed sensibly - in blue jeans and a nice button-up shirt - but his hair, however well-groomed it was, was hanging entirely free. Gone was the pretty Dutch braid Ember enjoyed the sight of at the nightclub. "Come in," Desmond said in a smooth, gentle tone, stepping aside. Ember padded inside, taking in the tod's apartment. It was impossibly normal for somebody as twisted and vile as Desmond; no lampshades made of flesh, no hollowed-out carcasses hanging on the wall, absolutely nothing indicative of a serial killer. Ember was so obsessed with finding some kind of red flag that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Desmond set a paw on his hip. "Relax, Ember. Relax," purred the feminine creature, raising his paws and rubbing the lupine's shoulders, kissing the back of his neck in an unnerving gesture of affection. "You did what I asked earlier," he whispered into one of the wolf's twitching ears. "I have no reason to hurt you... Not until I feel like exploring that boundary..." Ember expected and wanted his heart to sink with dread, but no. A shiver tingled it's way up his spine, a sensation of anticipation and curious lust. Desmond was corrupting him in every conceivable way.

"D-do you have a roommate or something?" asked Ember with a stutter, finding himself subconsciously aware of a musk besides Desmond's. It was female, but he couldn't place the species. However, the scent was strong enough that it was only natural to assume she lived there. "Yes I do. My girlfriend," Desmond said in a straight and serious tone, squeezing Ember's shoulders firmly, as if to discourage any disbelief. "And no, this isn't cheating. I told her I had a bitch coming over tonight, so she's out with her friends." Ember felt strangely relieved at the notion; at least Desmond wasn't hiding things. He didn't want to wind up in some scandal. "I see, but you have a girl_friend?" queried Ember with a cautious tone, turning his head enough that he looked at Desmond out of the corner of his eye, just able to bear witness to one of his fine smirks. "Yes, my girlfriend, bitch. Just because I _look like the complete faggot you are doesn't mean I don't like pussy." To cap it off, he nipped one of Ember's ears in warning; "Sorry," squeaked the bitch wolf. Desmond gave Ember a shove, forcing him to walk, but not far. They stopped at the sofa, where Desmond sat. "Kneel right here," commanded the domineering fox, pointing at the floor before himself as though he dealt with a puppy in training, but, far more obedient than any scatterbrained little dog, Ember knelt with flattened ears and flushed cheeks. "Despite what you might think, I'm actually a man of simple taste most of the time." He paused his speech by lifting a foot, pressing one of his padded toes to the lupine's lips. Ember uttered a single syllable, an uneasy rrf, but he slowly parted his lips to allow the digit inside. Desmond absently depressed the wolf's tongue, cracking a tiny smirk, but just as absently, Ember suckled upon it; the tod's feet were clean, but besides that, he had the feeling a toe was among the most appetizing things he'd have in his mouth that night.

"I don't fuck my girlfriend. I make love to her. When I eat her out, she knows I care. When I kiss her nipples and bite her neck, she melts for me. I don't piss on her, I don't smother her with my ass, and I don't invite strange men to defile her." Lifting his other slender, fine leg, Desmond stroked Ember's head with it, and at the same time, he started to pump his toe in the lupine's maw. Ember's blush deepened and he lifted his hand paws, rubbing with inexperienced reverence upon Desmond's ankle. "But no matter how well she pleases me, I still get those urges. I need violent sex. I need to piss on somebody and break them. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find somebody who enjoys depraved things like that, Ember? Do you?" He glared down at his bitch wolf; Ember whimpered in submission fueled by fear and, deep down, a very intimate respect. "No, of course not. You're submissive. And you're a good boy." He followed this praise with a rub behind one of the wolf's ears, something he made use of his free foot for. "I've only met two people who fit that profile, Ember. One of them I couldn't have," Desmond sighed, closing his eyes, "I couldn't keep him. But you," said the fox with a gradually escalating tone, straightening his back and sitting up, appearing that much more menacing as he gazed down his muzzle at Ember. "You're what I need." After tugging his toe free from Ember's maw, he rubbed the wet digit on the wolf's shirt, then twisted his lips into an enigmatic grin. Ember shook where he sat, unclear of just what to say, and so he said the first thing that popped into his head: "You want me as a, um," there he paused, thinking what word was best. Finally: "A pet?"

Desmond nodded slowly, sitting back with a satisfied grin. So Ember understood; it genuinely surprised the foxcoon. "Whoa, whoa, I can't really do that," the wolf muttered, biting his lip afterwards. "I don't see why not," said Desmond with an absolutely calm demeanor, disturbing Ember. Anger was what he expected, but more and more, he was coming to realize that Desmond was soft-spoken in his dominance. For him, uneasy silence and a reserved attitude existed in place of machismo and screaming. "I mean, you were my pet last weekend. You worshipped me and offered me your body, so deal with it, pet." He punctuated that not with a smirk or grin, but an even smile. He said the word gently and lovingly, completely obfuscating just how vile their relationship once was, and would soon be again. Every fiber in Ember's body said to just run, but it was too late. Desmond had infected the wolf with his venom, and the seed of corruption was fast growing. Leaning closer, Ember rested his head against Desmond's clothed crotch. The symbolism was absolute submission, and it wasn't lost on either master or pet. "Alright, master," purred Ember. "Good boy, pet," Desmond answered.

Desmond allowed Ember a respite before what was to come, letting the wolf rest his head and close his eyes. For all of five minutes, he stroked the lupine's head, but when that time was over, he ordered the pet to stand, which he did. Though reluctant and ashamed, tenuously clinging to a shred of dignity, an involuntary desire to be the best pet he could spurred Ember to obey. Desmond led him into the kitchen, and there on the counter was a water cooler. It was of an average size, but filled to the top with clear, clean water. Ember felt a sense of dread looking at it, but he shrugged off the feeling. "Sit down, pet," Desmond said, gesturing to the table; Ember scooted a chair out and sat. Desmond lifted the cooler by its' handle, and set it down on the table before Ember. "You're going to drink all of this," the fox beamed, tapping the plastic petcock near the base. Immediately, the lupine's ears flattened against his skull. "I can't drink all of that!" he squeaked, looking up at Desmond with agitation apparent on his face. Snapping out with a paw, Desmond clutched Ember's muzzle, squeezing it tight, forcing his teeth to uncomfortably grind together. "Pet, I don't issue idle threats. You see, I prefer to just surprise people that piss me off." He flashed Ember his gleaming, white teeth in a toothy grin. Considering he was only a fox, Ember didn't find the tod's teeth terribly threatening, but it was the threat behind their sheen that made him subtly cower. "I suggest you start drinking," he growled, grabbing the wolf's scruff. Though Ember was physically superior, Desmond had the advantage of dominance; he tugged the fearful wolf out of the chair and kicked it, and after it harmlessly scooted away on the tile, he shoved Ember down to his knees. "Put your lips around the nozzle, pet," Desmond smoothly commanded, then, without even a microsecond of hesitation, Ember wrapped his mouth around the petcock and looked at Desmond from the tops of his eyes. I'm a good boy, master... I'm sorry...

It was a simple mechanism; press the plastic button, and the valve allowed water to flow through. Desmond depressed it with his thumb, and a lazy stream of water started to flow into Ember's maw. Eagerly, the wolf gulped it down, missing not a drop of the room-temperature water. For minutes he drank and drank without complaint or discomfort, but before long, he began to feel bloated; a few more gulps, and he paused, letting the water splash down his chin. Desmond let off the button and tapped his foot against the floor, his claws clicking on the tile in menacing percussion. "I didn't tell you to stop, pet. You're only half done." Ember whined, then wrapped his arms around his stomach. "Master, I can't keep drinking all this water. I really need to, ah, you know," he stopped and pursed his lips, then glanced up at the tod, who simply smiled, bearing no outward malice, not even in his eyes. "That's the point," he laughed, "you'll get to take care of that when we're done." Ember shuddered and wrapped his lips around the nozzle again, and Desmond again held the button. While he drank, the wolf did everything he knew to take his mind off the growing discomfort that gnawed at him. He pretended he was somewhere else, but all that did was put him on a beach in Maui while still really needing to pee, with the added treat of the ebbing tide. "Looks like you've got just about an eighth to go, pet. If you wet yourself, we'll start all over again," Desmond kindly warned him, giving him a pat on the back of his head. Agonizing seconds passed, but finally, the nozzle dripped dry, and Ember fell back on his behind. His belly had taken on a tiny curve, and though it was impossible to notice through his shirt, Ember could feel it. He flopped to his back and curled in upon himself in the fetal position, clutching his genitalia in supreme discomfort to the tune of a cacophony of muted, pained moans and whines. Desmond put a foot upon his side, rolled him to lie flat on his back, and then planted his foot on the lupine's belly, pushing down with most of his weight. Though Desmond was a slight creature, even his light weight caused Ember agony. "Aaah! Oh, god, I need to go so bad," Ember hissed, finding his jowls yanked into a tight, involuntarily toothy grimace.

"Then get up and follow me, pet," said Desmond with a calm pitch, removing his foot from Ember's gut. In truth, the wolf hadn't held it completely - more than a drop or two had sullied his briefs, but he didn't say a word as he staggered to his feet and limped after Desmond. Every step was pure, unbridled agony; he'd never spoken too intimately with any women about labor contractions, but with every dull throb in his groin, he completely understood that pain. "Aaaaooow!" Ember cried now and again, praying silently for the indignity of being allowed to just explosively wet himself, but his inexplicable desire to please Desmond forced him to torture himself. At last, they stepped into the tod's bathroom, and there was the toilet. From the angle Ember saw it at, with the seat and lid lowered, the gap around the porcelain rim looked like a teasing grin to him, and he couldn't stand it, though he wasn't forced to for long. Desmond attacked from behind, tightly affixing a no-frills blindfold on the wolf's head, and though Ember squeaked, he didn't flinch. "Don't touch that," warned Desmond as he began to noisily rummage through a medicine cabinet, one concealed behind the shower stall. Though Ember was compliant to a fault, he was by no means quiet in his agony. "I can't hold it much longer, master! God, this hurts so much!" he sobbed, in such discomfort that tears began to dampen the blindfold, but it wasn't just a physical pain; the very idea that Desmond dominated him so much hurt in a way to compliment the tangible discomfort. Finally, the sick fox ceased his noisy digging, emerging with a device that would have revolted Ember; had he not wanted to revel in the sickened surprise to come, Desmond would have shared the sight of it with him. At a glance, the item he held was simple. At one end of it was a rubber-sealed sheath, shaped something like a dick pump for insecure men. It was connected to a clear plastic tube with some generous slack, and that led to a mask. It was designed to fit over long-muzzled creatures like canines, clearly, and it was also fitted with a rubber seal, the kind of which left it airtight. "Take off your clothes, now," Desmond calmly commanded, holding the device - one paw on the sheath, another on the mask, with the tube hanging between like some perverted jumprope. "Okay, okay," Ember shuddered, "j-just...!" Ember brainlessly stuttered, desperately fumbling with his zipper and button, shoving his pants down and kicking them away, falling with a dull thud against the wall. As fervently as ever, he yanked his shirt up and over his head, caring not that it turned inside-out as it passed his head. "Master, whatever you're gonna do, just hurry! I can't hold it in anymore!"

No matter how reserved his expression was, Desmond absolutely loved the wolf's hysterics. Under the guise of being careful and precise, he slowly fitted the sheath around Ember's own. There was nothing to keep it on besides the rubber seal, but the sheer friction of rubber against fur was a power to behold. The same could be said for the mask as he affixed it to the wolf's muzzle; he'd have to consciously pull and wiggle it to get it off. "Alright, pet," Desmond purred in a soothing way, grinning to himself, "you can piss now. The mask stays on until you're done, so you better hurry up..." Ember shuddered, already finding himself out of breath. Without pause, he let loose, and the muted yellow of diluted urine filled the clear tube, and a moment later, the airless mask was filled with something even less breathable than carbon dioxide. In short order, a number of things happened. When the piss splashed against his muzzle, Ember gasped, drawing the liquid into his muzzle where it soured his tongue with its' bitter flavor, but before he could drown, he started to drink. Just as quickly as he could swallow, he involuntarily pissed, though it may have been the other way around. Dropping to his knees with weakness enveloping him, he swallowed again and again, bitterly aware of the ultimatum at hand. He gulped down more and more mouthfuls, becoming less aware of the escalating burn in his lungs, a fire nearly as hot as the blaze the ammonia fanned in his sinuses. Would Desmond rescue him if he started to drown? He couldn't be sure; he didn't want to put his life in the fox's hands. Before those thoughts could carry him away, the stream ended, and Ember gasped hoarsely for air that didn't exist; the only thing in the mask and tube were fumes of ammonia, no oxygen to breathe, and not enough left in him to pry the mask off. As the world started to go even darker than the confines of the blindfold, he ragdolled flat upon his face, but Desmond flipped him and tugged the mask off of his saturated muzzle. Ember sucked in all the air he could take in one glorious gasp, followed by what was entirely natural; he curled in upon himself, and cried.

Still weeping over the ordeal he'd endured, Ember wasn't quite aware of it, but after ingesting all of that piss, he didn't find himself in bathroom-related agony - at least, not to the degree from before. The simple concept of hydration would see him pissing out less and less the more he recycled it, though what came out would be more concentrated and sickening than the time before. However oblivious Ember was to the idea, Desmond was quite familiar with such a form of torture, and before the night was over, Ember would look on the act of pissing into a toilet as a luxury. "You should be alright for a little while," the tod remarked, suddenly bringing light back to Ember's world by tugging off the blindfold, "unless you'd like to go again?" He asked the question with a coy smile, meanwhile gazing into Ember's wet, broken eyes. Quaking, Ember said: "It doesn't matter what I want. It's your decision," the wolf paused, gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes, as though the final word caused him discomfort, "master." Desmond's smile started to twist into more of a grin or a smirk, and he stroked the top of Ember's head, leaning down close to kiss his filthy lips. "You're right, pet," replied Desmond with an even tone, then removing the rubberized sheath with a few soft tugs. Gently rolling Ember to lie flat upon his back, Desmond clutched the bitch wolf's dampened sheath, squeezing and kneading it with the hopes of luring out the lupine's knotted member. "Ooh... Mmf!" huffed the pet, choosing then to close his eyes, his muscles stiffening from unexpected pleasure before falling slack in relaxed appreciation of it. The pointed tip of his member warily peeked from its' sheath, followed shortly after by inches of reddish-white flesh, marked with veins and throbbing with blood. Desmond wrapped his smooth, loving lips around the first few inches of it, treating it to a few skilled sucks, coaxing a trembling moan out of the wolf.

"Master," whispered Ember, loosely biting his own lip afterwards. A wad of thick pre squirted into Desmond's maw, something the twink fox hungrily gulped down. "Mmh, god!" gasped Ember, scraping his dull, groomed claws helplessly on the floor. For the wolf, it was uncommon to have someone go down on him - it was almost exclusively the other way around - and so he had nearly forgotten how nice a warm, wet muzzle and slurping, slobbering tongue could feel on his tender pride. He moved to rest his paws on the back of Desmond's head, but he quickly thought better of asserting himself, however subtly, over the fox. With nothing better to do with his fidgeting paws, Ember clasped them over his stomach and allowed himself to enjoy the respite of the tod's bobbing, sucking maw, though what he thought most divine was the tongue - though its' surface was as smooth as silk, made even better by a thin coating of warm saliva, what Ember loved most was the lewd stud that interrupted the muscle. Every time he felt it drag along the tense surface of his penis, a shiver ran up his spine and tickled a moan from him. "Master, ooh, god..." Desmond chuckled and lifted a paw, with which he clutched the lupine's warm, furry scrotum - the other was planted on the tile for support. He kneaded his bitch wolf's balls with his warm, soft pads, but now and again, he squeezed down in a grip. At first, it caused Ember little in the way of pain, simply augmenting the soft-spoken pleasure of being cupped in the foxcoon's luxuriously soft mitt, but like anything else Desmond did, it was soon laced with dominance and cruelty. Every squeeze became harder than the last, but like a frog being slowly boiled to death, Ember didn't realize just what was going on, for every time Desmond squeezed down with most of his strength, a trembling groan of unsure pleasure muscled its' way past the wolf's lips, laced with more confidence and pleasure every time it emerged.

Ember felt the unmistakable ache in his gut and lungs, that special pain which only testicles could provide, but he was still enjoying himself, and that terrified him as much as it excited him. He wasn't aware of it, but he was trembling and mumbling blissful nothings to Desmond, almost silently begging the tod to squeeze harder and harder because he needed that pain just so badly. Pulling his lips up and off of the wolf's member, Desmond kissed the tip as it oozed with a stream of slimy pre, and then strengthened his squeeze, coaxing a shuddering mixture of sexually blissful moaning and agonized whimpering from the bitch's throat; very slowly, Ember opened his eyes, gazing through his tears at the foxcoon. While his dirty lips twisted into a lewd smile, Desmond looked upon the wolf's face, a portrait of agitation with a mix of sensations, but no way to tell any of them apart. The poor wolf's entire sexual identity was being rewritten by the twink fox he now called master, and he couldn't even say for sure if he'd ever known himself prior to their encounter. "You've got no idea how long I've waited for somebody just like you, Ember," purred Desmond, releasing the wolf's bruised balls to stand and shed his clothing, something he did with effortless grace, while his eyes never left Ember's own. Standing over Ember, eclipsing the single light fixture of the bathroom, Desmond's feminine silhouette took on an otherworldly glow, and in more than one way, he was an almighty deity in Ember's eyes. "Somebody that I can beat, and rape, and smother, and mistreat, and he not only enjoys it, but offers me absolute compliance and, most importantly, his respect," cooed the fox, climbing over his defeated pet. With no shame or hesitation, he allowed the lupine's turgid, knotted cock between his ass cheeks, and with one quick push down, he took much of it into his snug behind. Ember only saw the twink shudder with a twinge of pain, but otherwise, it was impossible to tell. "I've been looking for somebody like you for years," rumbled Desmond with a sultry growl, leaning down to kiss the wolf's lips. "You'll never want for anything, and you'll never be anything but mine. Your life, as it has been, is over now." Ember trembled and shook - not with anxiety, not with apprehension, not with anything he could define, yet inside, something felt right. The feeling was distant and unwanted; a black sheep among his thoughts, and so he shunned it, but could not entirely resist it. He kissed back, and then, with a sagely nod, "Yes, master."

Desmond held Ember close, one paw around his back, the other clutching the rear of his skull in a mockery of a lover's embrace. Slowly, the tod slid down until his tail hole pressed against the swollen bulk of Ember's knot, and with that contact, both master and pet hissed - Desmond in pain, Ember in pleasure. "Mmn, yes," growled Desmond a moment before forcing himself on Ember in a kiss. First a shallow meeting of lips, it degraded into a snarl of coiling tongues and dripping slobber. However domineering the foxcoon was, the taste of piss was a pleasure to him, a throwback to more submissive, innocent days, but the taste of Ember's own urine in his maw and upon his tongue was an added bonus to an already arousing kiss. As the fox started to slowly bounce his body, he felt Ember's trembling paws on his hips; he didn't discourage the touch. Lapping along Ember's gums and teeth, he soon had the bitch wolf entirely pliable to his wants and needs yet again, however tame they were for the moment. In his tight behind, he felt the wolf's slippery precum squirting into him, coaxing a rare, wavering moan from the twink. Breaking off the kiss, Desmond eased the passion out of the act, slowly pinning Ember to the cold, unloving tile; Ember whimpered, but the noise was subtle, almost involuntary as he was forced to remember his true place beneath the fox. Desmond had no words for the bitch, simply planting his paws on the wolf's shoulders, keeping him pinned down tight. Harder and harder, he shoved his behind down upon Ember's knot, and though the wolf could count the number of times he was on top with a single paw, he knew the unmistakable sensation of his knot spreading open the tod's pucker when it came. "Mmm...! Ooh, master... Do you want my knot?"

"Mmhm. Now, keep quiet," Desmond said in a curt, warning tone, shoving his hips down with greater force, now so much that every drop threatened to pop that knot inside. In a rare moment of satisfaction, Desmond lost his composure and started to pant, breathing in quick, shallow huffs. Every now and again, a quiet moan would pass his lips, but for the most part, the tod was silent in his pleasure. When he finally took in Ember's knot, he did so without much flair, but simple function; shoving himself down harder than ever before, the wolf's swollen gland popped inside with a noisy, lewd sound somewhere between a slurp and a pop, and he hissed with pain, bearing down over the bitch wolf for a few long seconds. Ember was not so quiet, crying out with sharp, sudden pleasure, unconsciously gripping the fox's hips. "Ooh, master! I'm gonna... Gonna, mmf!" Shaking and cooing with eroticism and sexual bliss, Ember shot a sticky load of his jism into the tod, much to Desmond's approval, for he allowed himself a reserved groan. "Good boy, Ember," the fox growled, stroking up under the wolf's chin, who had since been lost in his afterglow. "Mmn... Thank you, master," he lazily growled in response, so dull and dreamy that he didn't realize that Desmond was sliding the sheath over his own member until it was too late. The foxcoon forced the mask on Ember's muzzle, and his sexual contentment was shattered with a sharp whelp of fear and shock, accompanied by a gasp that swiftly removed what little air was in the mask and tube. Though he grabbed the mask and pulled on it, this resistance was swiftly ended. Desmond met it not with pain, but simple bondage. He pinned Ember's paws with his own, and then, with a relaxed sigh, he pissed through his erection, filling the tube and, in short order, the airtight confines of the mask. The chamber enveloping Ember's snout was filled with musky urine, and, bitterly aware of what he had to do, the bitch wolf gulped down great mouthfuls of the tod's piss until the mask was empty, but no amount of obedient drinking could save him from passing out that time - especially not since Desmond held the mask on him, even as he tried to pry it off with his trembling paws. With a lewd, yet curt grin that bore only a hint of teeth and eyes that gleamed with sadism beyond measure, Desmond watched the lupine fall as limp as a ragdoll, and it was no coincidence that his erection throbbed harder than ever before.

Ember awoke some unclear time later on a warm, cozy comforter, apparently on top of the bed Desmond and his girlfriend shared. The tod leaned over his sullied, squirming body as he came around, skillfully tying his wrists to the handsome wooden headboard before his wits completely returned to him. The rope was tough, built for actual work rather than sexual bondage, and the rough texture of it dug into the flesh of his wrists, lighting the skin on fire with a painful burn. There was no use in talking, either; a heavy leather muzzle was wrapped tight around his snout, preventing all but the simple act of breathing through his nose. He wanted to beg Desmond to untie him, to tell him there was no need for the bondage, that he was a good boy and he'd stay put, all absolute truths, but there were no words Desmond wanted to hear from the bitch wolf, something the muzzle made clear. Whimpers and sobs could get through that mask, and that was as far as he wanted Ember's vocabulary to go. Ember expected to be blindfolded again, but that sensory denial never came. In a way, he wished for it; then he had just a few more precious seconds to be ignorant to whatever the fox was about to do. "There. You won't be getting out of those ropes, so don't try it," sneered Desmond, leaning down to nibble along the wolf's neck. "As for the muzzle, I'm removing it for only one thing, and I'm sure you know what it is." Ember's eyes were shaken, their gaze dripping with fear and forced respect, but he slowly nodded his understanding to Desmond. Straddling Ember as he had in the bathroom, the twink fox rubbed gently behind one of the wolf's ears, coaxing a rumbling, reluctant murr from the bitch. "As those in power are apt to do, I'd like to lay down a rule, pet," cooed Desmond, looking Ember right in his eyes. "You piss when I say you can piss. If you won't piss when I say to, that's too bad. You can wait until the next break." He paused, smoothing back his hair - Ember wasn't sure if the pause was for effect, but the silence didn't help his nerves. "On that subject," the fox suddenly said as he twisted a few of his locks into a fine braid, "don't piss without my permission." It was simple enough for Ember. No threat was needed, for it was simply implied with somebody as cruel as Desmond. Humbled well beyond simple submission, the wolf again nodded, his ears involuntarily flattening against his skull.

"I'm glad you understand that, Ember. You're a smart puppy," said Desmond with derision lacing his tone. "But you can't be that smart. Look at where you ended up." With his braid complete, Desmond dismounted Ember and scooted to the edge of the bed, then stepped off, moving towards the corner. Ember could follow the twink with his eyes, which, out of morbid curiosity, he did. Desmond opened a trunk nestled in the corner; it was a trunk like any other, a lightly-used piece of luggage, but one that probably never left the spot it occupied. From inside of that leather-bound trunk, he extracted a dildo. It was small, all things considered, and actually rather pleasant, with an agreeably-sized knot at the base of it. Next was another dildo, this one quite a bit larger. It was just beneath the discomfort threshold, and also canine. The next toy was human shaped, but its' size was something to behold. It had to be somewhere between fifteen and twenty inches, but its' thickness was no trivial matter. The last toy Desmond took out was absolutely herculean; the king of all dildoes. Two and a half feet long, it was, of course, shaped exactly like a stallion's penis, including a set of enormous balls at the base. Its' color was an obnoxious cyan, but no matter how silly it looked, Ember whimpered. In the little time he'd known Desmond, Ember had come to acknowledge that the fox wasn't one to make idle threats; he took that fake dick out for a reason, and that reason, as far as Ember was concerned, was to see if it was possible for him to touch Ember's colon and tonsils in the same penetration. "One of my boyfriends over the years bought me this monster as a joke. You see," Desmond started in a conversational tone, dropping the toys on the bed, "he was a horse, and he was always impressed by how well I took his dick, so he got me this," Desmond jabbed the toy at Ember's muzzle as though fencing with it for effect, "to see if I had any limits. It turns out I did, since I could only get it about halfway in before it hurt too much. I figure I can get it balls-deep in you, though."

As Desmond slid the smallest of the dildoes beneath Ember's tail, there was no moaning, no outward pleasure. A gentle penetration such as that would have ordinarily been very enjoyable, even as dry as the toy was, but all his thoughts were on that equine battering ram Desmond called a toy. It wasn't a dildo; it was as simple as that. It was an obnoxious novelty meant for one amorous homosexual to give to another, but no, Desmond was intent on breaking it in. Closing his eyes, he did his best to fight off the visual of it, to stop himself from wondering just how it would feel - especially since he'd know, like it or not, within the hour. It wasn't until Desmond pushed the knot of the first toy against his quivering tail hole that Ember stopped his worrying and twitching to moan, but it was strangled and reluctant. "Nnngh..." The fox flashed his pet a coy grin, swiftly popping the knot into the lupine's rear, wrenching a wince and a groan from the bound Ember. "You took that knot well, pet," cooed the foxcoon, tilting and otherwise playing with the hilted toy, licking his lips intently, cherishing the sight of the wolf's pucker gripping the slender shaft between the knot and the base. Ember couldn't stay focused on the terrifying notion of having the biggest toy inside of him, not with Desmond so carelessly teasing him. Over and over, that smooth toy was dragged lovingly along his anal walls, stimulating his inner flesh and tender muscles. Even as afraid as he still was, his knotted member was fully exposed and throbbing, completely free of its' warm, fuzzy sheath, oozing precum all over his smooth belly. "As far as my slutty playthings go, Ember, you're definitely one of my favorites," Desmond purred with a widening grin, leaning down to kiss the wolf's exposed nose, wrapping his lips around it just enough that he cut off what throttled air Ember had, though he held it for only a few seconds, just long enough to heighten the bitch's senses.

However accustomed to suffocation Ember was, and however briefly Desmond covered his nose, Ember acknowledged that he never adjusted to the sensation - not that he'd never heard of anyone "getting used" to suffocation. Yet every time it happened, he found his erection throbbed a little bit harder, and the pleasure of the dildo was multiplied by a factor he couldn't begin to guess at... "Let's try something bigger," said Desmond with a casual air, popping the knotted toy free of Ember's slutty bottom quickly and easily. The high of asphyxia had already waned, and the silicone knot exited his rear with only a twinge of pain, one that sent a dangerously erotic tingle up his spine. "I have some special feelings for this one," Desmond purred, holding up the next toy for Ember to see. It closely resembled the pleasant toy he'd just experienced, but was considerably larger, and an entirely different color - a dark purple to the smaller toy's vibrant orange. "This is the first doggy dildo I ever bought myself," sighed the fox wistfully. "I've used this thing so much," he grinned, bumping the pointed tip of the veiny, fake dick against Ember's nose. He blushed, then absently sniffed at it, only to find the rubbery scent of clean silicone - something he was grateful for. "I can take this one dry, but I usually don't." The fox punctuated that with a snicker as he leveled the toy at Ember's oh so slightly loosened butthole, pushing the tip against the wolf's entrance. Ember expected the tod to have more words of derision, or perhaps a backhanded compliment, but there were none. He simply pushed the dildo forward, and over the course of a few very painful seconds, Desmond sank the dildo deep into Ember's behind. Inch by inch, the fat, veiny purple disappeared past the yielding muscle of Ember's asshole, and the only respite came when the knot kissed up to that pucker. Though the pet spent much of the impaling with a low, pained rumble in his chest and just a hint of a hiss leaking past his bound lips, those uncomfortable noises were capped off with a trembling, contrasting murr as the knot came to rest against him.

For many seconds, Desmond waited and allowed Ember a much-needed rest to adjust to the sheer girth of the toy, but no pleasantry could last forever with that fox holding the reigns. Slowly, he began working the toy in and out of the handsome grey wolf, pulling it back an inch or three, only to quickly shove it back in up to the knot. With every shove, he put more force behind the toy, and before long, each push on the base of that dildo saw the knot spreading Ember open more and more, but not enough to penetrate the bitch just yet. Desmond knew what he was doing, and every thrust of that fake dick was a carefully calculated push against the slowly yielding pucker of Ember's asshole with just enough force to make the gradual knotting as painful as he possibly could. His efforts were certainly paying off, for Ember whimpered and winced as the knot began to bully its' way into him, soon encouraging tears to well up in his eyes. With vision made blurry by moisture, he watched the cruel tod's face, and it wasn't a surprise to him at all that the further that knot forced him open, and consequently, the more he cried and whimpered, the more devious Desmond's look became. Slowly but just as surely as Ember's limits were tested, Desmond's face twisted itself into an unconscious portrait of sadism. Most apparent and frightening at-a-glance was his muzzle; the jowls were pulled up to expose needle-pointed rows of razors, the corners of his lips upturned in a curt grin. That was scary enough, but the tod's eyes were what had him transfixed. He wasn't even sure they could be called eyes, as sinister as they looked. Looking away from Ember's tail hole, the target for his abuse, Desmond made eye contact with the bitch wolf, and for several seconds that lasted an eternity each, Ember once again thought he was looking at the face of a demon before the fox evened his features out, putting on an expression that was handsome and calming, but Ember saw through it, and he knew there was pure evil behind it.

"Yours is a behind made for knotting, pet," Desmond purred with far too much ease in his tone, idly brushing his paw against the wolf's erection, still as hard as a rock despite the suffering Desmond inflicted upon him. Even more damning than his own arousal was the fact that he hadn't even bothered to try kicking the fox with his free legs - Ember was a creature that enjoyed sports now and again, and though he wasn't a muscular stud by any stretch, he could have easily kicked the fox in the sack if he really wanted to, but it never even occurred to him; what kind of a pet would he be then? "Come on, now," grunted the fox to nobody in particular, eyeing the wolf's pink asshole as it spread more and more for the unfeeling silicone of the dildo. Desmond shoved harder and harder with that fake dick, coaxing muted yelps and trembling whimpers out of Ember's muzzled muzzle, and while Desmond certainly enjoyed them, what aroused the twink foxcoon the most was the simple pleasure of watching Ember's tail hole spreading open a little bit more with each push on the toy, threatening to swallow up that gruesomely sized knot but never quite making good on that threat. Finally, when he could take the suspense no longer, Desmond bared his teeth in a lewd, demonic grin and gave the dildo a mighty shove forward, burying the knot in his bitch wolf's behind. Ember arched his back, and his whimpering briefly hit a pitch so high that not even a canine like Desmond could hear it. "There we go... I knew you could take it, pet," Desmond grinned, clutching Ember's throbbing erection, giving it a few gentle pumps and gropes in reward.

What reserved pleasure Ember gained from Desmond's soft, smooth paw was little consolation for all of the pain the wolf was in - and even worse, the familiar ache of nature's call started to burn in his loins. It was the last thing he ever expected of himself; the wolf started to think of the next toy just to get away from the idea of having to piss again, but Desmond wasn't about to just yank out the toy he'd spent so much time and energy burying in his bitch. Care and skill laced the twink's touch as he squeezed the wide base of the dildo and began twisting and angling it this way and that, giving Ember an encore of his teasing with the first toy. Despite the pain his poor, unlubricated butthole throbbed with from being so ruthlessly penetrated by a big, mean doggy dick, the wolf appreciated the pleasure its' veiny surface brought him as it dragged across his walls, wracking his body with waves of pleasure mixed in with pain. For Ember, there was simply no telling the two apart, and all the wolf could do was shudder and moan, squirming like a seaborne invertebrate in his bonds. With his free paw, Desmond clutched his pet's member, the tip of which oozed and dripped with musky preseminal fluid, leaving a sullied stripe of fur on the wolf's smooth stomach. "I wasn't always a kinky bitch who got off on violent sex and pain," Desmond mused, kissing no particular spot on the underside of Ember's penis - the wolf shivered at the feel of whiskers and fur on his tender flesh. "But some men and women started abusing me like I'm abusing you... Heh, you'd be surprised where you'll be in a few years, trust me." Desmond flashed Ember's uneasy face a coy smile and a wink, and then he graced the wolf's knot with a playful squeeze.

It was the one thing Ember didn't want to contemplate at all, the notion of Desmond turning him into a sick little puppy, twisting pain into pleasure and burning that association into him, but Desmond left him no choice but to confront it. As the tod tugged upon the fat silicone dick, pulling the knot against the bruised pucker of his asshole, threatening to repeat that cruel knotting in reverse, Ember squirmed and snorted, grinding his teeth together even inside of the leather muzzle. Though his ears were flat against his skull in what resembled pain, the opposite was true. As that knot started to force open the sorry pucker of his asshole a second time, he was stricken by the fact that it hurt so good. Desmond yanked on the toy with all his strength - there was no cold calculation or even affection in the way he wrenched upon it, even grunting and growling in exertion. With every particularly nasty tug, Ember squealed. It was a sound of unbridled pleasure, a sexual bliss he didn't want and couldn't live without. With another sharp tug, his knotted cock started to throb with heavy arousal. When Desmond pulled one last time and freed the fat, fake gland with a slurping pop!, Ember came, shooting ropes of his jism that left a soiled streak up his body, a line of white cream that zigged and zagged its' way right up under his chin. The noise that shuddered out of his bound muzzle was the perfect vocalization to sum up such an ambivalent climax, the kind of a shaking moan that could have worked just as well if Desmond had stuck a knife in his back by surprise.

In the climax, Ember had shut his eyes tightly, but he was unaware of the tears that squinted past his eyelids. His body shook in tremors of an afterglow brought on by such an intense orgasm, almost appearing as convulsions. "Well," purred Desmond, breaking the still silence, "that was unexpected." Though a simple statement, Ember heard undertones of perverse sexuality in it, and while it was hardly inappropriate in such a situation, the bitch wolf knew what the tod was purring about. While Desmond set the big, knotted toy aside and reacquainted himself with the next, he imagined just what Desmond was thinking; good boy, pet... You're already becoming just as fucked up as I am... And then I'm taking your soul back to Hell with me. "You know," tutted the fox, waving the long human dildo like a sword, a sight Ember opened his eyes just in time to see, "this toy is long and thick, but not that interesting. Don't you agree? Human cocks are nice, sure. I've fucked plenty of human studs. But I'm not in the mood for something so plain tonight." Dismissively, he tossed it elsewhere on the bed and, much to Ember's genuine horror, he picked up and wielded the cyan horse dildo, the enormous penis-shaped wedge that Ember half-expected would split him like a log. Oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck, fuck... Oh, god! Ember wanted to say, even frantically moving his tongue in his clamped maw out of an involuntary need to panic and sob, but that was just the rational part of his brain; elsewhere, something deep inside of his mind liked what it was seeing. It didn't see horrific pain and a gaping asshole, it saw a new pleasure, a boundary that needed to be explored. That part of his brain saw Desmond as an angel, not a demon; that part of his brain called the foxcoon master.

Ember couldn't see the state his abused tail hole was in, but of course he felt it. The tender muscle throbbed with overbearing pain, and inside, the flesh was raw, burned by the cruel friction of the dry silicone. Though the way he imagined his entrance gaping and sore was exaggerated, it was only to a small degree, since by no means did it even remotely resemble a pucker anymore. The wolf was almost glad for just how loose and pliable the two knotted toys had left him when Desmond kissed the flared tip of that butt-destroying toy against him, but even as wide as his tail hole was stretched, what was to come next would make that child's play. Desmond gave a mighty shove forward, the kind of a push that let him sink the knot of the last toy, but with that particular dildo, it merely pushed with agonizing force into the bruised muscle of Ember's orifice. "I'd tell you not to clench, but..." Desmond grinned, sucking on his lower lip in a moment of pause. "I don't think you'll actually be able to for a few days." Ember felt his stomach tighten with unease at the notion, but, as had often been the case that evening, he was given no time to stew in his worries. With surprising strength in his slender arms, the fox pushed in silent exertion, but for the force he used, Ember's tail hole refused to yield to the toy, instead shifting his prone body, knocking his skull against the headboard in a dizzying thud!, an impact that coaxed a brief cringe from Ember, but in a way, it was a welcome, if brief, distraction. Anybody with even a vague respect for decency would have given up, but not Desmond; he clutched the toy with both paws along the shaft, and he pressed the flat base against his stomach like a misplaced, oversized strap-on. Squatting upon the bed, planting his feet, the twink shoved with all the strength in his legs, baring his teeth involuntarily, just dying to see Ember's asshole finally start swallowing that toy, and best of all, to hear the bitch's squeals; though Ember's head again met the wood of the headboard, that pain was the last thing on his mind.

"Nnngghnnh! Mmmmngh!!" Ember simply couldn't help himself; the noises that squeaked past the muzzle were absolute agony in the form of soundwaves, but sadistic delight for Desmond. The visceral sight of Ember's pink asshole stretched beyond all recognition around the bright, blue stallion cock and the noises saw the fox grow hard once more, his pink member throbbing, his loins burning with the need to breed, an urge he would satisfy only after his sadism was in check. "Heh, look at that," Desmond mused, "it fits, I'll be damned." The foxcoon bore a truly cruel sneer, but he wore it in such a casual way, contrasting the sickness of working the dildo in further and further. The toy was barely a quarter inside, but Ember knew, even when - or if - it hilted, that Desmond wouldn't be satisfied. Then would come the teasing, the gyrating; Desmond would stroke or perhaps suck upon his cock and blur the line even more in that special way of his; just as he felt the toy was going to start turning his insides out as it dragged centimeter by agonizing centimeter along his tender innards, the twink of a fox, his master, would further take his sexual identity, rip a little bit more flesh off of it, and replace it with the twisted, cold wants and needs for more pain. Soon, the dildo slid past its' halfway mark; Desmond had to shove with yet more effort to force even the subtle ridge of the shaft past Ember's asshole, yet again butting him into the headboard. Ember flinched, but only for the sting of the lump developing on his head; for the dildo, he found his back arching in a pleasure he simply couldn't deny, no matter how much he wished to. Please... Please, master! thought the bitch wolf, gazing up at the ceiling fan, turned into a wet blur by the salty tears in his eyes. He thought so hard about what he wanted to say: Please, master... It hurts so much, no more! But as he let his mind simply wander, it changed: Master, harder...! I'm a good boy... And I want you to push me harder! Acknowledging that sent a shiver up his spine.

The toy was soon three-quarters inside of the wolf, well past where the irrepressibly slutty Desmond had stopped. In Ember's belly was a subtle bulge, just a small contour, but as intimately as Desmond had studied the lupine's fine, athletic body, he noticed it. Again came the demonic snarl of a grin that struck fear into the heart of little Ember, and, spurred to greater cruelty by the surreal sight of Ember's belly bump, Desmond howled in sexual triumph and buried that horsey dick with a burst of strength. Though Ember met it with another faltering squeal that harmed the tod's ears in a wonderful way, the reality of the situation was that Ember, even having climaxed so soon, was hard again. It was actually a surprise for the wolf to feel his meat pulse with yet more sexual desire, but not for Desmond; in truth, looking upon Ember as he squirmed and sobbed, yet sported such a turgid erection, awoke a bittersweet nostalgia in his heart that brought a grin to his lips. "Look at you," he began, leaning down over the wolf, briefly wincing from a bruise in his gut - one that the base of the dildo left in him. In this new position, he chained soft kisses up the bitch wolf's prostrate form; first, one upon the stretched rim of the athletic creature's tail hole, another upon his taint, followed soon after by one on his balls, and several along the length of his penis. Ember shivered with each, but to feel such gentle pleasure took his mind away from the biting pain of having that toy inside of him. Slowly, he smooched his way up Ember's bulging belly and smooth chest, absently licking up a rope or two of jism that had begun to encrust on the fur. Finally, he kissed the bitch wolf's nose, but made no effort to suffocate him this time. "Wonderful job, pet," he cooed, stroking the back of Ember's head with a truly fond touch.

Ember murred in affection and even enjoyed Desmond's touch and praise, but mostly, he was just cherishing the respite. What came next from the tod's lips rekindled a pain his brain simply refused to acknowledge with the stallion dildo drilling into him: "You've earned a piss break, Ember." Suddenly well aware of the bruise-like ache in his groin, Ember squirmed and shuddered. Desmond removed the muzzle; immediately, the wolf licked his dry jowls and nose, but, further anchoring himself down as a submissive pet, he showed absolute compliance as the twink fox slid the mask over his muzzle. As Desmond wiggled it and made sure it was snug, the fumes of ammonia that seeped around its' seal burned the bitch wolf's eyes and sent them screaming shut, and involuntarily, tears seeped past his eyelids to further dampen his cheeks. The burn was painful, and the scent of expiring piss in the mask and tube was vile beyond words, but as he felt the queer, brief pleasure of the sheath's rubber mouth sliding down his flesh and kissing up to his knot, his heart fluttered. Thank you, master... I needed to do this so badly, Ember unconsciously thought, visibly forcing himself to piss. Not only did he struggle to do so through his erection, but the pressure of the toy upon his insides made it nearly impossible to relieve himself. After a few long, increasingly hazy moments of bearing down, the tube filled, starting as a trickle, but the more he urinated, the easier he found it. Once only a light yellow, nearly clear, Ember's urine had by then become a dark, sick shade, almost orange, and its' taste, at first slightly bitter but ultimately something he could stomach, had since become completely revolting. To gulp down this heinously disgusting piss, even if it came from his own body, made Ember's stomach turn. It was made worse by the tingling grip of asphyxia which heightened his senses and let him pick out every facet of just what made the piss so disgusting. His body had absorbed so much of the last round that Ember finished just on the verge of unconsciousness, even after taking so long to begin, though Desmond chose to remove the mask after enjoying a second or two watching Ember first suck at air that didn't exist, followed by slowly closing his eyes, and ultimately, going slack.

As usual, Ember gasped when the mask came off, but the air wasn't as sweet as it seemed the last time, for as oxygen passed his lips, he also sucked in the residual fumes and aftertaste of his piss, burning his tongue, throat, and sinuses like a trashy beer or gourmet cheese, tickling his lungs so much that he found himself in a brief coughing fit - one he did everything he could to stifle after the cough and flinch, which put him in complete agony as his body tensed around the dildo. "Aah...! G-god, fuck!" In what seemed to be another respite, he fell limp against the bed and slowly panted, each breath clearing his lungs, but the taste always remained on his lips. "Something the matter, pet? Can't take anymore?" Desmond grinned, looming over Ember, almost bumping noses. Opening his eyes, Ember first blinked in surprise at seeing the tod so close, but then, his features clearly reflecting submission and obedience, he shook his head. "No, master," said Ember quietly, "I can take as much as you can give me." His voice quaked, but his eyes were, in the strangest way, very confident. The twink's grin started to widen, but it was a ways off from that demonic look. "That's what I like to hear! I'm going to have so much fun breaking you like this every weekend, pet." Ember just nodded, and whatever rationality that still defied the fox was missing in action. After a brief meeting of lips, one Ember fruitlessly tried to hold, Desmond pulled away and knelt between his bitch wolf's spread legs, clutching that toy by its' balls. "This was a fun experiment, but let's get this toy out of you. I can hardly tease you with such an unwieldy dick," he chuckled, starting to tug on the dildo. For as much pain as Ember expected, the horse cock started to pull free with considerable ease - though it was a bold-faced lie to say it was painless. Efficiently showing Ember's abused butthole the utmost disregard, Desmond pulled and tugged upon the dildo, freeing inches at a time. Though Ember's gaping tail hole clutched the toy in a tight, fleshy grip, Desmond was much stronger, and with a few more mighty tugs, only the thick flare remained. Ember had been quiet and compliant, if not without tears, making not a single squeak of pain, but it seemed he was simply saving it all for the finale, for when Desmond grunted and ripped the flare free of the bitch wolf, Ember howled with pain; not a figurative howl, a modern vocalization, but a throwback to his four-legged roots, a true howl at the moon that would probably wake up the neighbors. With the dildo freed, Ember panted hard and heavy, his tongue hanging out of his maw; even as obedient as he had become, he would've been happy if the evening was over then.

For Ember, that hope and illusion was allowed to live for a short while longer, for Desmond reached above the exhausted, filthy, sore lupine's head and untied the heavy ropes that held his wrists against the headboard. Ember had forgotten all about the bondage; his paws were long numb, but the screaming friction burns on his wrists made up for that. Under different circumstances, he might have rubbed the feeling back into his paws, but Ember was simply tired; all he desired was a long, peaceful rest, and so he closed his eyes, his arms limp at his sides. As sore as he was, his aches were almost enough to keep him awake the entire night, but he felt like he could sleep; it was too bad Desmond wasn't done. "Open your eyes, pet," he said in a low voice, not yet a warning even by the tod's standards, but simply a command that wasn't to be ignored. Not once did it occur to Ember to ignore the tod; opening his tired, wet eyes, he sat up to look at the fox, immediately regretting it as he put even the slightest pressure on his abused bottom. "Ah! Yes, master?" asked the tamed wolf, his expression two parts submission, one part pain-fueled grimace. Desmond smiled. "No sleep, pet. Not yet," cooed Desmond, "get on your paws and knees for master." Though he complied, presenting his taut bottom, his tail flagged out of the way, even wagging in absent-minded invitation, Ember was understandably nervous. I can't take much more of this butt stuff...

With the dildoes set aside, Ember wrongfully assumed that the worst was over, and all he truly expected was a vicious knotting by the fox, whose cock was just about inoffensive compared to the horse cock. Desmond leaned close, looming over Ember's prone behind. Ember heard the tod's lewd growling and purring, sounds of sexuality and lust, and he allowed himself a shiver as Desmond parted the cheeks of his ass to expose his used and abused asshole, gaping beyond all sane limits. With great care, Desmond dragged his smooth, studded tongue across the loosened muscle, and from Ember's chest came a trembling, quaking moan. After being callously forced open, to feel something so contrasting, warm and loving as a tongue on his tender entrance soothed the pain, which he was happy to acknowledge as just that - pain. Having come down from the thrill of being penetrated with something so cumbersome and large, Ember more objectively looked upon the act for what it was, but for a dangerous time when he couldn't tell pain and pleasure apart, confusion ruled and changed him in the most base ways.

"You must have a fox somewhere in your ancestry," chuckled Desmond, lazily trailing a blunt claw around the slack rim of Ember's asshole, coaxing pained hisses from him, but, promisingly, no pleas for mercy. Latching on to any distraction he could, Ember croaked: "Y-yeah? What do you mean?" With a coy smile on his lips, not that Ember could see it with his ass up and his eyes forward, Desmond expounded: "Because you're so loose and sore, but look, not a single drop of blood." He briefly paused before further disclosing his musings. "I wouldn't expect that kind of flexibility except from another fox." Punctuating such a derogatory statement, he snickered, and then swatted one of the wolf's ass cheeks. All things considered, it wasn't terribly painful, but it coaxed a startled yeep! out of the timid pet. Desmond scooted off the bed and dug into his nightstand, but didn't say a word about what Ember should do - and so he stayed put. After a moment or two, a dull grin started to spread across his muzzle about the fox remark; who knows, it might explain a lot. "Hm, stay put, pet," Desmond casually ordered, disappearing into the master bathroom, emerging just short of a minute later with a nondescript cardboard package, one that looked like a box of tissue. Much like the sight of the water pitcher, seeing that box awoke a nameless fear in Ember's heart, but this time, he chose to believe his instincts. Of course, he had already been conditioned into such a good boy so as to not question the tod. Behind the bitch, Desmond knelt, and Ember waited in deafening silence, subtly shivering; not from temperature, but simple anxiety. He heard a quiet scrape of cardboard as Desmond opened the box and removed something, but the next sound cut the air; snap! Simply unable to stop himself, Ember looked back and saw that the fox now had on a single rubber glove, so tight and thin that he could see the twink's fingerpads beneath it. Desmond flashed him a toothy grin, one that was borderline-demonic. "Eyes forward, pet..."

Biting his lip, stifling uneasy puppy sounds of terror, Ember waited and, grabbing at straws for something, anything to distract himself from the only possible reason Desmond would wear a rubber glove, he studied the wooden headboard - and decided ten seconds later that there was nothing remarkable about it. Very soon, he felt one of the gloved fingertips trailing his loosened butthole, though the orifice had already begun to tighten up, which was most definitely not a good thing in Ember's case. A second finger quickly joined it, followed by a third, and they traced the rim of the wolf's abused asshole again and again. As painful as such a gentle touch was, Ember knew well that he should have cherished it, a point that was nailed down as the twink slid two fingers in. With just two digits, there was almost a hotdog in a hallway effect, but Desmond quickly added a third, and then a fourth, all of them bunched as tightly together as his joints would allow. Ember was bitterly raw, and he buried his face in the plush comforter with a cracking groan to stifle himself. "O-oh, god," Desmond heard him moan, but it wasn't a sound of pleasure - at least, not yet. Wearing a reserved smirk, the twink began fanning his fingers out, gently at first, but like anything else he did to that poor wolf, he became more and more forceful with time. As pliable as that big, blue horse cock had left the bitch wolf, it wouldn't have taken much effort for the fox to spread him wide yet again, but that was the point; pulling his fingers back out, he balled his paw into a tight fist, the rubber creaking against the force, and he pushed his knuckles against the lupine's half-loosened entrance. It was entirely the wrong technique to fist anybody; though a painful act no matter what, Desmond purposefully performed it in in such a way that would put Ember through the most agony he possibly could.

Though the tod's fist wasn't as wide as the horse dildo, the way Ember's raw innards clenched and writhed against its' uneven surface and dragged against the unlubricated rubber put him in far worse pain than any dildo could. As shameless as ever, he sobbed with absolutely no control into the comforter, his body shaking and trembling with unbearable agony, but as always, the specter of pleasure hung over him, threatening to make him enjoy the act if the fox were to touch him in just the right ways. Desmond's fist sank deeper and deeper into the perpetually squirming warmth of the bitch wolf's behind, so far that the wrist of the glove passed his entrance, exposing the twink's soft, plush fur to the wolf's walls - or was it the other way around? Though the sensation of Desmond's dainty, gloved paw bullying its' way deep into his colon was a horrific pain he could barely reconcile, to feel the tod's well-groomed, soft fur tickling against his tender flesh was pure pleasure. Not at all wiry or stiff, his fur was easily the most plush, loving coat Ember had ever felt, but he wasn't sure he wanted to feel it. As that first wavering moan bleated past his lips, his mind raced. Oh, god, no! No, I can't start enjoying this! But it just feels... So... So good...

Did Desmond intend for Ember to experience such a contrast of textures and sensations? It was impossible to tell from the wolf's perspective, but the way the tod's lips bent into a curt smile implied a clear knowledge of just he was putting the bitch through. Closing his eyes, resting his unused paw on the small of Ember's arching back, Desmond simply continued by the feel of the act, closing his eyes, sinking his arm slowly. What was once a snug passage had been left a gaping cavern by the horse toy, a void that the tod's arm filled and then some, cruelly forcing open re-tightening muscles that were slowly recovering from that fake equine dick. Now and again, Ember found himself gasping with a sharp twinge of pain, but just as easily, it became a sound of queer, unexpected pleasure from the feeling of the twink's plush coat sliding along him like a very loving pipe cleaner. Desmond opened his eyes and inspected his work only when he felt the lupine's warmth a few inches from his elbow - even as nasty as Desmond enjoyed being with his partners, that was far enough for him. Licking his lips, he paused, giving Ember a brief intermission from all the new sensations, offering him time to adjust to the ones at hand, pun fully intended. To calm Ember's quickened breathing and soothe his shaking body, Desmond gently stroked the length of the wolf's spine with his free paw. "You're taking this wonderfully, pet," cooed master, then coiling his paw around the wolf's tail. Though hardly calmed, Ember raised his head from the comforter enough to speak, his restrained tail squirming in the twink's grasp. "Ah, I'm glad for that, master," said Ember with just about the most unclear tone he could manage, coaxing a chuckle from Desmond. "You should be," he said encouragingly, "I'm not sure you realize just how much of a loose-assed little whore you really are, pet..."

Though Ember's cheeks lit with indignation - an emotion he was surprised to still have - and embarrassment, he quickly realized that such a statement wasn't a cruel joke, but a mark of respect and admiration coming from a fox. With a sheepish giggle, less a sound of happiness and more of anxiety, he said: "Thank you, master." His smile turning into a dirty grin, Desmond carefully relaxed his paw and tickled his gloved fingertips over the wolf's walls with indiscretion. For Ember to feel slender, dexterous fingers teasing flesh that was untouched prior to that evening brought him immense pleasure, and to that end, a long groan of sexual gratification shuddered past his lips. "Ooh! Oh, yes... Ooooh," Ember cooed, his eyes shut tight, his blunt claws raking harmlessly against the comforters, his tongue lolling past his lips, lips that were pulled into a goofy, happy grin. Chuckling in naughty sexuality, Desmond reaffirmed his grip upon Ember's wagging tail and tugged on the fluffy appendage, yanking a cute ah-yeep! out of him. With another tug, its' wagging ceased, but he felt the lupine clench down upon his arm with all the force it could manage - and the wolf again let loose with a moan that shook his body. Flattening his ears against his skull, Ember started to whimper helplessly, but not in pain by any means - or at least not in any kind of pain he recognized anymore. "Master! Oh my god, that felt so good," Ember whimpered to the fox, forsaking any and all dignity he still held onto. "Pull on my tail again, please!" begged the bitch-wolf, too full of numbing, lazy pleasure to raise his head and look back - an effect he tried to add to his request, but it was simply too much work. "What'd I tell you?" asked the fox with a rhetorical flair, yanking with greater strength on the fluffy tail, widening his grin yet shaking his head at the sound of Ember's next cry. "Look at what you're already turning into. A fine bitch."

"So tell me, Ember," Desmond said with a gentle tone, a direct contrast to the sick brutality he inflicted upon the lupine's bottom, "are you going to be my bottom bitch forever? My pet?" The twink fox left no time for him to reply, ending his query with yet another sharp yank upon his pet's tail, and in a sexual domino effect both Ember and Desmond were becoming very familiar with, the wolf involuntarily clenched down with his behind, then yelped with a blissfully sexual cry, one that tapered off into a painful shudder. "God yes, master," Ember gasped, then bit down on his lip. "Tell me something I didn't know," the fox chuckled to only himself, gradually pulling his paw back, yet he kept it balled into a tight fist, again drawing the taut rubber across flesh that had savored the sensation of ultra-fine vulpine fur on its' surface. Ember was so far gone that he didn't welcome the pain which led him to abhor the act he endured, he only longed for the forbidden, bizarre pleasure he had formerly gained from it, and in yet another way, Desmond had corrupted him. The fox listened with keen ears to the mindless tune of Ember's hisses and cries, all muffled by the comforter he pushed his snout into, noises that hit a peak when the twink's fist wedged itself behind the tightening muscle of the wolf's asshole. Beyond the outburst, Desmond heard some soft-spoken prayer for mercy upon his behind, but Desmond was no god, no matter how much his pets and slaves came to look at him as one; and thusly, he had no desire to answer prayers. As if freeing his arm from a cubby hole in a tree, the twink placed his free paw upon Ember's taut behind and pushed against it, gradually pulling harder on his buried fist, forcing Ember to spread wider and wider, again undoing his abused tail hole's recovery. The sissy fox knew forcing Ember to pass his clenched fist was a nightmarish pain, and he even thought to tell him that pushing would help; on that note, he considered likening it to giving birth, just for an extra slap in his face, but he was enjoying the antics far too much.

Like watching the flare of the equine toy pop free, Desmond's fist weaseled the poor pet's tail hole open yet further before the widest part of his paw at last slid free, the rubber cruelly dragging along the intensely raw flesh on its' exit. In a sadistically delightful display of absolute pain, Ember arched his back and flagged his tail sky-high, then fell to the bed without even a single cry, his behind in too much pain for him to even come up with an appropriate yelp. As Desmond peeled the glove off of his paw and tossed it aside, Ember rested his head on the comforter, crying through squinted eyes, lamenting his relative innocence prior to Desmond entering his life. Again came a respite; Desmond stood and stretched, putting his slender, breedable body on display, an unintentional show Ember was too busy shuddering and crying to watch. Though Desmond savored the wolf's discomfort and the sexual instability he had planted and nurtured in the athletic creature, the twink of a fox found himself satisfied - for the time being. The urges to inflict suffering and pain were temporarily satiated, and all that remained was a very attentive lover, a contrastingly gentle soul, but by no means did the fox dismiss Ember's enslavement so easily. With a grace that left many in a curious awe, Desmond re-took a place upon the bed, and he laid a single paw upon one of the lupine's shoulderblades. Ember visibly tensed, a flinch that would've pleased Desmond otherwise, but like the flick of a light switch, his interest in harming Ember had ended. "Shh," Desmond shushed the wolf, leaning down into a half-hearted spoon with Ember, kissing one of his ears, his paw slowly, gently stroking down the subtle arch of his spine. "I'm through hurting you this evening, pet. There's no need to cower," he cooed, planting a small kiss in the inner fluff of Ember's ear. That gesture of affection lured the wolf out of the fear, and he slowly lifted his head from the comforter, gazing at Desmond with eyes left puffy and bloodshot by tears. "You're done?" he asked calmly, managing to speak in between sobbing-induced convulsions that would've broken his voice and saw him break down again. "Absolutely done, Ember," said the fox, flashing Ember a smile, one free of malicious intent; not even his eyes showed cruelty. Though Ember didn't put it past the tod to mask his intentions, something about his expression seemed genuine. "...You're done," Ember repeated, his eyes drifting shut, his voice laced with relief... But deep down, he felt a pang of disappointment.

"Stay as you are, pet," the fox quietly commanded, sitting up from his prone position at Ember's side, moving to kneel behind the defeated creature. Though finished tormenting the wolf with physical pain and acts that pushed him beyond all limits of his anatomy, Desmond's domination of Ember wasn't complete, and though he didn't intent to establish the full brunt of his dominion that evening, there was one particular act that Desmond simply couldn't ignore, as close to his reach as it was. With paws that showed an unusual reverence for a creature they had just so utterly violated, Desmond spread the taut cheeks of Ember's ass and again exposed his abused tail hole to the bite of the chilly air. Ember shivered in a way spurred by both the sting of the air on his raw flesh and fear at what Desmond had planned, but in the queerest way, he expected the fox to keep his word. Besides that, he frankly told himself, there aren't many more things he can actually do to me. As it turned out, Ember was wrong in many ways, but what Desmond did was not painful physically; in fact, the wolf found it pleasant. Emotionally, however, it left deep scars in him. Scars that, as they festered and wept with blood, would spell out the name Desmond. With Ember's rump cheeks spread and that gaping, pink bullseye exposed, Desmond eased the opening of his sheath against Ember's destroyed entrance. The contact of such soft, cuddly fur on his tail hole caused the wolf no pain, but he wasn't left to revel in that sensation for long. Desmond sighed in a long, relaxed huff, and that was when Ember felt the tod's warmth enter him. For a mere second or two, Desmond relieved himself into the abused, reamed depths of Ember's bottom, though he quickly angled his hips following that defilement, letting his pleasantly warm urine saturate the prostrate length of Ember's back and shoulders, pissing for such a length of time that Ember imagined he had been holding it in for hours - something that was entirely true, considering Desmond had purposefully drank more than a comfortable fill of water while Ember had been unconscious. When the flow tapered off and Desmond found himself dribbling into the warm crack of Ember's thoroughly mistreated rear, he gently patted the wolf's hip and chuckled. "Now you're all mine, Ember," he purred, gazing down at the still form of his pet.

In the strangest way, Ember felt complete. Though still in pain and suffering from confusion, to know that he so thoroughly belonged to Desmond and bore his scent in such unspeakable ways brought him a kind of peace in his soul. By then calmed enough that he no longer threatened to cry, he softly nodded his head and brushed his soiled tail against Desmond's chest in a gesture of affection; Desmond wrapped his arm around it, then nuzzled into the dampened fur with a pleased rumble. "You've made me happy in ways my girlfriend can't, no matter how open she tries to be. Thank you, Ember," the tod said, his voice more calm than Ember had ever heard before. It brought a genuine smile to the wolf's lips, but to assume that the evening was completely over was foolish on his part. With a gentle touch, Desmond rolled Ember over on his back, and immediately, his paws clutched the lupine's idle sheath, alternately kneading and groping upon the fluffy-furred flesh with skill and affection that saw the wolf cut the silence with a deep moan. Wearing the tiniest of coy smirks, Desmond slid two of his soft digits past the flexible mouth of Ember's sheath, stretching it only in the smallest way. Much like how the tod's well-groomed fur brought unspeakably blissful pleasures to Ember when brushed against the writhing walls of his colon, the lupine found himself again moaning and breathing in snatches at the feel of Desmond's smooth fur and sinfully sweet pads inside the intimate, unexplored flesh of his sheath. For a time, all pain that lingered in his body, including the recurring need to piss, became unimportant to Ember. With a touch that suggested Ember's was not the first sheath he had so lewdly explored, Desmond trailed his velvet-like finger pads against the tender, moist pink within that sheath, though he loosely clutched it from the outside with his free paw. Proving that there were truly no limits to the things he'd do, Desmond pushed his fingers in deeper and deeper, on occasion brushing against the yet-dormant tip of Ember's penis with his blunt claws, but his intention and most repetitive gesture was simply fingering that sheath.

Such an unexpected pleasure saw Ember's shaft refrain from showing itself for the time being, but it was just as well to Desmond. Sliding his fingers out of the snug, musky confines of that sheath, he paused to not so subtly sniff the lupine's scent upon them. The sight of the vulpine taking such a deep hit from his fingers with closed eyes and pinned ears evoked a very bashful blush from Ember; even after all that had occurred, the tod still surprised him, and he correctly assumed that the tod still had more bizarre acts up his sleeve, though those were for another night. "For such a submissive boy," said the fox, snapping Ember into rapt attention at once, "you've got a potent musk. You can certainly look forward to master blowing you quite often, pet," he sneered, flashing Ember his best smirk and a wink to top it off. The notion was not unappealing, and it spurred Ember to laugh in shyness before settling back against the comforter, his cheeks lit like Vegas neon signs beneath the dirty fur of his muzzle. "I'm definitely looking forward to that, master," answered the bitch wolf with respect in his voice; Desmond smiled. "As you should, pet," he growled, kissing the mouth of Ember's sheath, giving him a quite blunt hint as to what was coming, "as you should..."

Ember's body shivered at the feel of Desmond's soft lips and velvet fur against his sheath, but he felt stupid for not guessing what the twink was up to. As quick and smooth as a kiss of the French variety, Desmond snaked his long, moist, studded tongue down into the humid confines of the wolf's sheath, immediately setting about the lewd task of wicking away its' natural moisture with hungry laps, replacing it with far more viscous, voluminous slobber. Both the act and the saliva saw Ember arch his back and coo, though his blissfully sexual sounds were interrupted by a small twinge of pain, one brought on by his bruised insides. Nevertheless, he regained some semblance of composure and called out to Desmond with a low, passionate cry; what it lacked in flair and volume was made up for by sincerity. "Ooh, master," whispered Ember with a sexual urgency, fighting back the urge to rest his paws on the back of the tod's head. That protracted moan brought a truly devious grin to the tod's lips, but he intended only to please at that point, not harm; he had inflicted enough suffering on Ember for one evening. As he had expected and awaited, he felt the wolf's member begin its' journey out of its' sheath, but Desmond was not quite done. With skill that was no accident, he wiggled his long tongue between Ember's throbbing penis and the wall of his sheath, a contact that was pleasant enough, but when that erotic tongue stud found its' way into that confined space, Ember nearly convulsed. A sharp noise cut the air, one that welled up in his lungs before exploding out of his mouth; it was almost a puppy's yelp, but mixed into it was a noise of pleasure that not even the sexually-weary Desmond had heard before, though no matter how alien it was, Desmond correctly interpreted its' meaning; more.

Despite all of Desmond's raw skill with his tongue, to keep it inside of the wolf's sheath was a losing battle, especially as the pointed tip at last exited, exchanging one humid warmth for another, sliding into the twink fox's loving maw. Sealing his lips around the flesh that entered, Desmond lewdly sucked and offered Ember a content purr, but soon, losing feeling in his tongue, he had no choice but to let the studded muscle slip free alongside the deeper inches of Ember's manhood. Panting in a residual shock from the feeling of that stud, Ember briefly wondered if Desmond might suck him off as he had started to before, but that pleasure was not to be. What the twink had in mind was far more bizarre, but really, Ember wouldn't have accepted anything else from the tod he had grown to call master. With no words from master or pet, Desmond moved up to his knees, and he momentarily rubbed his knotted penis against Ember's own, relishing the sight and sensation of his bubblegum-pink meat grinding into the greater length of his pet's red rocket, but this frottage, which made Ember coo and moan endearingly, did not last. In a swift, graceful motion, Desmond lifted and turned around, straddling the smooth curvature of Ember's stomach, again resting cock-to-cock on his bitch wolf. Ember absently watched the hypnotic sway of his master's bushy tail for a few long, curious moments, but he soon felt something new; something unusual; something completely bizarre that seemed acceptable and even normal by Desmond's hand. Laying his shaft over Ember's own, Desmond had begun to slowly force his own length into the snug mouth of the wolf's sheath, immediately stretching it further than ever before. Though Ember initially yelped in shock and discomfort, this act started to become a cruel and unusual pleasure far quicker than anything else he'd been subjected to, and worst of all, he was fully aware of that fact.

If Desmond wished to tell Ember the full truth, he'd have told the wolf that even he was a virgin to the act, but such was bad form for a master. Besides that, as invitingly warm and cock-milkingly tight as that sheath was with two cocks inside of it, Desmond had seen the future, and he already knew that that was to become a regular occurrence, if not with Ember, then with some other bitch. "And how does this feel, pet?" said Desmond with aural sex dripping from every word, his voice such a sultry sound that Ember shivered from it. "It feels wonderful, master," groaned Ember, his voice so content that he sounded rather lazy and tired, so aroused by the unusual act that he was entirely relaxed, his body completely limp... Aside from one particular part of him. Desmond had no need to reply in words, wisely deciding to let actions speak for him. With his shaft nearly hilted to its' knot, which wound up butted against the swollen bulk of Ember's own, Desmond began to mate that which nature hadn't intended him to, fucking Ember's snug sheath with brief, sharp humps that very quickly had the lupine gasping and whimpering. For Desmond, who had not yet climaxed that evening, resisting the pleasure and fighting off his orgasm was an excruciating ordeal, but one that he endured in admirable silence and reserve. Quietly, he huffed and growled, his head canted low and his eyes closed. Rounding off his heavily invested expression were his flattened ears and loosely grimacing muzzle, his jowls nearly exposing teeth, but not quite. The more he fucked the unspeakably fine passage of Ember's sheath, the more he simply wanted to let go, to climax, to seed Ember in such an intimate way... And at last, not even Desmond's sentinel-like resolve could resist raw sexual temptation. He heaved and grunted as he bore down for his own climax, but after what had seemed to be an eternity of waiting that evening, he came, filling the warm, tight confines of Ember's sheath with a mighty load, one so voluminous and gooey that Ember cried out in unrecognizable bliss; to taste another man's semen or have it deposited underneath his tail was enjoyable, but those experiences suddenly seemed to pale in comparison to what Desmond had just done. The twink fox grit his teeth and rushed into his afterglow in relative silence, but Ember's paws came to rest upon his hips again that night; as before, the fox enjoyed the touch, and laid a single paw over one of Ember's own.

Desmond was quite somber as he pulled his member free of Ember's sheath, leaving an intimate part of his body again loosened and somewhat slack, but such stretchy, durable flesh would again regain its' original shape. As silent as ever, he turned, at first making to straddle Ember, but he instead knelt. In a quick motion, he slid his legs out to sit, and pulled Ember's prostrate body across his lap. Like some kind of lover, he wrapped his left arm around the lupine's shoulders and lifted him up for a brief meeting of lips and an exchange of gazes. In Desmond's eyes, the bitch wolf saw dominance and sexuality, but also a certain care that had not been present before. In that brief moment, Ember had imprinted upon Desmond's dominance enough that dangerous words were about to pass his lips, yet the foxcoon's paw swiftly clutched the swollen flesh of his knotted erection, coaxing a drawn-out moan from the lupine, stopping him from uttering a single syllable. With skill Ember had come to expect, Desmond stroked fervently upon his pet's throbbing manhood, dripping with such heavy pre that the twink quickly found his delicate paw absolutely saturated. Again, the fox forced himself on Ember in a kiss, one willingly and passionately returned, but for all his sucking and lapping within his master's maw, Ember couldn't keep it for long. Faster and harder, Desmond pumped the lupine need in his paw, each stroke bumping his fist down against the fleshy bulk of the knot. The kiss slowly ended, Desmond's own doing, and he then placed his lips upon Ember's neck. First a love-nibble or two, it sank into filth and debauchery as spectacularly as anything else that evening. He bit and nipped with increasing ferocity on the tender flesh; there was no mistaking it for grooming or anything affectionate. As roughly as he pleased, Desmond pocked the bitch wolf's flesh with sore teeth marks, taking care to never draw blood, but occasionally, he loosened a few strands of fur.

Though Ember squeaked and yelped with startled pain, the raw pleasure of Desmond's paw upon his member was a sexually accessible delight that he savored. Little nothings were cried out in the tod's favor, intended to spur him on, but they were met with yet sharper bites. Slowly yet surely, Desmond left something of a necklace of cruel bites around the lupine's neck, and he began to work his way down that slender, piss-soaked chest, savoring the rank stink of stale urine in ways that no normal creature would. Emboldened by the scent of humiliation and sickness on Ember, Desmond jerked with all his strength on the pulsating flesh in his paw, and he buried his nose in the stained fluff of fur, nipping intently all around. As the tod grew nearer to his nipples, Ember found himself crying out with yet more reluctantly masochistic pleasure from each bite, his paws coming to rest unabashedly on the back of his master's head. Though he made no coherent words, the wolf howled to Desmond in such tones that conveyed his pleasures clearly, and so the twink sought to do better. Swiftly, he dragged his studded tongue along the dirty fur to one of Ember's stiffened, pink nipples, and he bit down on it with his front teeth, coming to the threshold of drawing blood, but skillfully staying just behind it. Staying there, he pinched and twisted it, drawing yelps and near shrieks out of Ember, but his knotted penis squirted precum in great arcs. Desmond knew how blissfully close the wolf was, and, in no mood to tease anymore, he clutched tightly the bulging gland that was Ember's knot, quickly lifting his lips to the wolf's ear as he did, nipping it, snarling into it even as the trembling creature he held suffered through his mighty climax. "Mine, Ember," said the fox, his voice a low whisper that demanded attention, "nobody else's, only mine."

"Yes, master," Ember shuddered within the bliss of his afterglow, resting in the tod's lap, his labored breathing leveling itself in time. Carefully, Desmond scooted Ember off his lap and once more deposited him on the bed, and was about to speak when Ember made a tiny query, one the tod couldn't refuse. "Master," he began, gazing up at the twink fox with a queerly eager look, "I need to go again, may I, please?" With only a brief pause for thought, Desmond nodded, then gathered the nearby mask and tube. The fact that he still would have to make use of that sick device was simply implied, but Ember already knew it to be the case. Smoothly and easily, Desmond fitted the sheath around Ember's erection, and then forced the mask upon his face. It was just as before, but Ember awaited the rush of feelings that time. At the same time he took the single breath of oxygen the mask held, Ember began to piss, and his muzzle was immediately saturated in the dark, burned yellow of his piss, by then so full of toxins that it was but a step above poison. In that moment of asphyxia where his extremities and tongue began to tingle, that vile fluid drilled holes all the way through his sinus cavity and wrenched tears from his eyes. Every drink made his stomach turn, but, much like when he did it on the phone for Desmond, he could feel it staving off a perversion, one he had come to understand that night, and one that he had even begun to embrace. Finally, the stream tapered off, and, when nothing remained in the mask, Desmond pulled it off. Ember hadn't come nearly as close to suffocating as he had before, but the tod could still see the unmistakable daze in his pet's watery eyes. Grinning, he planted a kiss on the wolf's dirty lips.

With his own desires satiated and a whole new set of them imprinted upon Ember, Desmond had but one more command for his exhausted pet that evening, which amounted to the two of them sharing a protracted but largely uneventful bath. With affection, the vulpine washed the filth and shame from Ember's fur, and in return, using a touch that dripped with reverence, the wolf returned the favor to his vulpine master. Though Desmond quite thoroughly cleaned Ember's body, the smell of urine was too potent to leave him after just one bathing. To anyone who brushed against him in public, the smell was not noticeable, but if anybody happened to partake of a more intimate sniff here and there, the scent would become apparent. Before the bathtub, they stood and toweled themselves off, and Desmond took on a more frank tone with Ember. "You were very good tonight, I hope I'll see you again," the tod remarked, winking for the wolf. Ember blushed and chuckled, then nodded. "You will, master. I'm free next weekend." Stepping closer, Desmond wrapped his towel around the back of Ember's neck, pulling him so close that their noses bumped. "Sounds like a date, pet," Desmond growled, punctuating his words with a kiss on the nose.

Though Desmond had a change of clothes in the bathroom, Ember's were yet strewn around the house, and so he politely told the lupine to sit in the living room while he gathered them up. There Ember sat, nude, but wearing a fluffy towel around his waist. The remote for the television was nearby, but he had no desire to turn it on, and he was similarly disinterested in the magazines on the coffee table. Turning his eyes upwards, he saw the clock on the wall; it took him a moment to read its' analog face, having spent so much time looking at digital ones, but it said 1:47. Ember briefly widened his eyes; had he really been that foxcoon's slave for the better part of five hours? I guess time flies when you're being raped, heh... Behind him, he heard the soothing click of the lock on the front door, and just as he turned his head, a twenty-something beauty stepped through the threshold. Immediately, Ember could see she was a hyena with pretty, shoulder-length brunette hair - not a hint of the Mohawk hyenas tended to naturally feature - and something of a casual outfit on. Her face looked alert and wide-awake, as though she was some kind of a night owl, and she immediately noticed Ember where he sat, nonplussed by the fact that he was wearing only a towel. "Ah, hey," she said in a voice disappointingly free of any kind of Aussie or African accent, turning out to be rather flatly Midwestern, "you must be that guy Dez talked about." Ember sat perfectly still, blushing and vaguely ashamed as he looked over his shoulder at her, but the hyena seemed completely casual about the situation, as though it wasn't the first time she'd met a nude, strange man at 2 AM in her apartment whom her boyfriend had been clearly fucking. "Y-yeah," Ember blurted out with a supremely nervous laugh, while he absently pulled the towel tighter together. "Dez and I, we're, you know, friends," said the wolf as confidently as he could, but the hyena grinned in that kind of a toothy way only her species could. "Yeah, I know all about what kinda friends Dez brings home, honey."

She took a seat beside Ember, uncomfortably close for him, but she still seemed absolutely calm. "You're cute, I see why Dez invited you over." She smiled so benignly that Ember found himself smiling back however briefly, but before he could become any more uncomfortable, Desmond padded into the living room with Ember's clothing piled up in his arms. "Aw, I didn't want you to find out this way," Desmond snickered, setting down the clothing in Ember's lap, but the wolf was much too shy to re-dress in front of a new set of eyes, an irony considering how far his moral limits, among other things, had been stretched. The hyena sniggered, turning her eyes on Desmond. "He's nice, kinda shy, too. Seems like the kinda guy you'd like to pee on, yeah." For a brief moment, Ember saw something unspeakable; Desmond blushed and oh so subtly looked away, and all the while, that hyena stared him down. "He does, I suppose," Desmond said, his voice showing but a hint of bashfulness. Ember took this moment of confrontation to stand and slink into the kitchen, where he re-dressed and hung his towel over the back of one of the chairs. As he stepped back into the living room, he saw the tod and hyena in one another's arms, sharing a soft kiss; it made Ember smile to see them that way, but he could never forget the tod's dark side, not after that night. As they let one another go, the hyena stepped up to Ember, her paws clasped behind her back endearingly. "So, Desmond says you'll be coming back?" she said to Ember, partly a question, partly a statement; he nodded, and so she leaned closer, planting a benign kiss on his cheek, one that left Ember mildly flustered. "Thanks," she whispered, "you make Dez really happy." Without another word, she walked off towards the bedroom, to the scene of chaos Desmond and Ember had left it in; he expected to hear an almost cartoonish exclamation, but none came. Finally, Desmond embraced the wolf and kissed his nose, then wordlessly nodded towards the door. Ember acknowledged his last order with a sagely dip of his head, and he left. As he turned the knob, he stole a look back into Desmond's eyes.

Finally, Ember opened the door and left.