Fox Hunt 2
#2 of HumanFox
. Fox Hunt 2 - 2012-0824.2332
. Entire storyline scrapped and replaced 2013-0902
Adult anthro characters, all text and situation (c)2012 Kevin Foxboy.
My name's Kevin Fox. I've been interested in anthropomorphic animals since before high school, and I'm over fifty now. You know the idea, bipedal animals with language skills. See copyrighted cartoon characters like Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Roadrunner and Coyote.
But in college I found out that other people share the interest, and since I was adult they let me in on their secret. Which was they were members of an anthropomorphic club, and they let people come to the estate for Live Action Role Play.
For LARP, we'd get undressed, put our street clothes away, shower and rinse ourselves out. Then we'd put on fake fur costumes, crouch down and pretend to be an intelligent animal.
Or just walk around as people with fur. I found I liked crouching and acting like a dog, being collared and leashed, and walked around. Heel, Sit, Roll Over. That kind of thing.
I mentioned rinsing, and it's the kinky adult thing. I mean enemas, look it up. Once we were empty, the Live Action Role Play included letting my trainer insert a butt plug nice and deep, twisting it to give me a thrill. I said this is an adult story.
You may be scratching your head wondering what the frak I'm on about, or about to quit and read another story. Grab, hug, cuddle. But think for a minute. People grab wild animals, and basically beat them up until they're 'broken in' and 'tamed'.
What's so different about kidnapping people, locking their necks, wrists and ankles in heavy steel chains, dragging them on ships for a month, and whipping them if they don't work hard enough?
*and how come society accepts taming 'dumb animals' but doesn't let people volunteer for servitude if it gets them off?*
And we do very much get off being submissive. Even without the fursuits, we like to come visit, strip our Vanilla-land identities off with the clothes, become domestic servants. It's very relaxing to put aside responsibility and just scrub dirty floors, where your efforts are obvious.
Now I know not everyone interested in anthro roleplay does it for Dom/sub play too. Sometimes we're just housepets. But animals were forced into domestication, as if their purpose in life was to serve humans. And that's the animal-submission connection.
We honestly enjoy the LARP to stay nude, wear a collar and chains, kneel and crawl, heel you and lick your feet like a dog, keep your house clean and cook meals. Rent us, you'll like what you see.
After the ox-bow incident, Master Alfonse had to whip up his hunting dogs, because we all looked quite bedraggled after the pond, the vines and the water traps. For people who were supposed to be careful with the fake fur, we were certainly doing a lousy job, and we whimpered like dogs because we knew we'd been bad.
But we were all on duty and we didn't have time for a proper spanking. Some of us like the attention. We'd lost Alice, even though there was enough warm vixen scent where she left the water and continued the yellow Intermediate run. I'm sure she'd passed the fifth turn and the aid station, because the water bottle was gone.
What happens if the vixen wins? Of course we all knew where she was running, because the hunt course circles around the Estate and ends at the safety cabin right near the Lounge where it started!
And of course the path and its alternates are plainly marked, which is why Master Alfonse was so upset at some trespasser messing with the trailsigns. I think Alice just ran up the last hill where she could look back and see how badly this pack had messed up. We were supposed to be giving the *paying guests* some entertainment for the day.
When we finally got going again, I could tell the attitude had changed. Instead of barking happily as we ran in costume, we were no longer a trained pack but a group of scared dogs.
I was the old guy, as I've said, and I need the cortisone shots to keep running with the pack. I also knew we weren't doing our jobs as submissive men and women, which was to keep our guests entertained.
I was pretty winded at this point, trying to keep up, but I whimpered and tried to bark, and get the pack to give a better show. Alice the sexy vixen was up ahead, and we'd lost track of her tail. I was pretty sure she'd been flipping it, to tease the hounds. But judging by her tracks in the occasional patches of soft dirt, she was barely trotting along now.
I don't know how she avoided the vines or water traps. Maybe she wasn't a scared vixen fleeing hunters, and looked ahead. She'd probably seen where the marked trail jogged and stayed on the yellow trail.
The ground was a little marshy up ahead at the last turn. The pack had gotten some confidence back, partly because HuntMaster Alfonse used the dog whips on us. He'd obviously run out of patience, because we were seasoned dogs and really shouldn't need the discipline.
By the time I caught up to the pack, several horses had passed me, and even a few whip-strokes hadn't made me pick up my pace. I was very sad, because I knew I was in, well, the doghouse, and my poor performance today would be reviewed.
I was a scared dog. I knew I could even be retired after the Hunt. I really wanted to keep up, but I was honest and knew I was falling behind. It was a struggle, and I should have been paying attention.
My left ballet slipper caught on something in the marsh. Luckily it gave, and I didn't sprain my ankle. I'm not a Thoroughbred racehorse, or one of the subbes and subs roleplaying one, so I didn't need to fear being 'put down' for yet another failure. As it was, I lost my trotting rhythm, and fell down, rolling over the damp grass and getting back up.
At least HuntMaster Alfonse was up ahead, but mid-guard Master Ernest saw and gestured for back-guard Mistress Roberta to check up on me. They were all angry, but it was part of their jobs to avoid losing a dog. As she approached, I fell to my knees as a frightened sub, even forgetting my dog role.
I was going to put in a long section about Mistress grinding Her sub's rump into the grass and the hard steel of the tail-anchor handle, but I'm told to keep to the animal-roleplay aspect, not my own fetishes.
She knew I was a seasoned role-player. I'd been on the Triple-Red Expert hunt path several times. I'd never failed so miserably before. I was just being a dog by crawling and whimpering in submission.
Mistress clucked, the signal for her horse to slow, and she barely had to pull back on the reins for the dumb-animal horse to stop. Mistress dismounted and strode towards Her cowering dog. I bent forward, my chest on the ground, my arms extended along it, my left wrist over my right. I trembled, but stayed spread before Her.
She spoke my dog name harshly, and paused. I shook in fear, I wasn't even worth being shouted at. I heard Her light bootsteps and prepared to have the fake snout roughly kicked off its snaps, working my human mouth against the leather tab on my tongue, ready to lick Her muddy boots in abject submission. Just like the dog I was.
She saw my left foot was bare. The slipper was still in the patch of soft ground. There was no blood or sign of serious injury. She spoke with surprising gentleness. Mistress spoke my street name! The one I'd been born with, that I had to go back to in Vanilla- land, the one I'd given up when I came to the Estate full-time!
As it turned out, the Dalmation wasn't injured, just shaken from the spill. While I was down so low, I was able to see a small glass vial, and I'd lost my footing because I was winded and trying to catch up. It turned out this was an important clue to the path to our vixen, as well as our mysterious trespasser.
It was the vial of artificial vixen scent, and I won't ruin the suspense of where Alice kept it warm with her body heat. It wasn't in her hand, but it was a bit curious it'd gotten jarred loose. She probably picked it loose to tease us dogs, and then...
I wasn't the only one who'd gotten careless and wandered off the path. There were the colour flags off to the right, so either Alice had tossed the closed vial off to her left as she jogged along, or...
Or she'd stopped to come over to the soft marsh, and dropped the glass. Either she was surprised by something or someone, or she'd been clumsy, then heard the pack or the horses, and run off. Surely she was headed round the sixth turn, to the safety cabin and a win in today's hunt.
It was while Mistress Roberta was crouching down for the vial that She noticed why I'd tripped and why my left ballet slipper was off. It was stuck in a small rut caused by a thin tyre! The mark was clear enough in the soft ground, and She knew the Estate kept several dozen electric All-Terrain Vehicles. Even the submissives got familiar with the tyre pattern.
Yes, I know many ATV's have big balloon tyres, and this was more a motorcycle print. But the electric was quiet, and the fresh print was proof someone had ridden up here this morning. While we were all out on the Hunt, or back at the Lodge, our trespasser had been moving the Hunt path markers, leading the pack astray, into the Red traps.
If he had used the Estate's equipment, he had access to a shed that was supposed to be private property, and didn't usually have to be kept locked. The electrics needed a key, but they were in the same shed... if you knew where to look. Mistress didn't hear of a stolen bike, but She was Lodge staff, not Maintainence.
Was the trespasser here just a short while ago? Had he (Ok, that's gender-biased, it could have been a woman) seen Alice the sexy Vixen, and enjoyed her skimpy costume and the lovely fake tail... bouncing as she ran, trotted, jogged, walked...
Or had she stopped to talk, or been shocked at his presence... and had they struggled, so she lost the vial? And where were they now? Mistress was upset because the tyre marks were so much deeper going one way over the soft ground. One person riding up... but two people leaving?
So where the hell was Alice, and more immediately -- would they have to call off the Hunt, and disappoint a lot of paying Guests... and call in a couple nosy cops?
I'm sorry if my spotty memory makes this story jumpy and hard to follow. Please believe me, it's hard for me having to live with it. If I hadn't decided to give up my life in Vanilla- land to live at the Estate full-time, I'm not sure I could handle having to run my own life.
And I'm not the only submissive who feels uncomfortable on the Outside and prefers being controlled living on the Estate. It's so very relaxing, to give up responsibilities and simply Submit and Obey. Maybe we're just so deeply tamed, that we're domesticated and dependent.
But now we had a mystery on our hands, or considering the submissives' costume mittens, on our paws. It certainly seemed that someone had made off with our sexy vixen Alice. But did she go willingly, or was she foxnapped?
Or maybe the trespasser wasn't even involved with Alice. She could have run across the ruts too, tripped and dropped her vial. Maybe she was blissfully unaware of my personal drama, instead running scantily-clad as a yummy Anthro vixen, teasingly flipping her fake-fur tail for the hunting dogs chasing her.
I was coming down from the adrenaline rush and fear, and deeply enjoying Mistress grinding my rump and nethers into the grass. As I said, She grew up commanding my service, and I think She likes making me prostrate and go squishy-minded.
But I'd had enough rest, and She ordered me to all fours, then up to my knees. Because I was so far behind the pack, She told me to fetch my slipper, then ordered me to mount Sherry, Her mare. She mounted ahead of me and let Her old hunting dog hold Her waist on the canter back.
Alice awoke confused. She'd been running as a vixen, working up a healthy sweat, cross- country and over stone walls and over fallen logs. She'd flipped her fake fox tail to the males and females role-playing various dog species, past the aid stations along pathway forks.
She'd climbed trees and forded a pond and stream to make us 'lose her scent' as well as leaving scent to let us keep up the Hunt. She'd been near the last turn, almost in sight of the safety cabin, when something hit her...
She groaned, her legs stiff from failing to cool down after running, and nearly fell off the platform. Her eyes focused on the animal heads, and she realised she was in the taxidermy shed. She was over a mile from the safety cabin at the end of her run, and she hadn't aimed for it.
She was also still in her vixen furs, the legs and arms. Her human bra and panties were fur- trimmed, and it tickled as it caressed her otherwise-bare skin. Her middle was bare, and she still wore the lightweight jewelry chain around her yummy toned hips, below her innie navel. The front chain descended, slipped into her panties, and slackly ended in her clit hood piercing.
Alice was also wearing a rough rope collar, wrist and ankle cuffs. She'd taken off her normal subbe leather to run vixen, and she'd missed the sexy caress of restraints. She hadn't been tied down, and she remembered enjoying when she had been.
"So you're awake, girl," the low-pitched voice spoke from the shadows of a wicker chair.
"Yes, Sir," the fake vixen replied. She didn't know the voice, so she didn't know how to role- play with him. She was trained to use the word 'sir' for a male sub placed above her, the stronger-intoned 'Sir' for an employee trainer or a guest, the submissive 'Master' for a man dominating her.
Her 'captor' leaned into the light and spoke. "Do you know where you are?'"
"I'm in the Main Line Anthro Hunt Club's taxidermy shed. I'm tied down on a work table in a skimpy bra and panties, with just the roleplay vixen fur. I'm lying on my back stuffing myself with the anchor for the fake tail."
Alice was trying to stay calm, because the rough ropes held her ankles, wrists and neck for real. And she does in fact have a kinky side, including enjoying kidnap fantasies. She likes rough sex, and being forced. But only with her prior consent.
This was not the hunt roleplay assigned for the day. It was more like what we do afterwards, and Alice was well restrained, as if she'd lost. She was still wearing the fur, especially the bushy tail.
"Who are you, girl?" He used the degrading term for a female submissive, but her face was hidden by the fake vixen snout.
Now, the men and women roleplaying slave property (yeah, some of us like it, don't judge) are trained to set aside their identities and just go with the roles. So the correct answer is, "just a slave beast, for your pleasure, Master". Or Mistress if a free woman asks.
"What's your name?" is answered as, "Whatever Master wishes," said submissively. It's true, not an insulting attitude.
The submissives leave their street names in the locker room. As I've said, Alice Vixen was born Alice, and she chose to keep the name. Now that she's lived at the Estate full time over a year, I'm not sure she'll ever go back.
So for her, the answer was, "Alice, sir." She still didn't hear the firm tone of voice from a roleplay Sir, or the dominant tone of a Master. She was well-trained to speak the truth, clearly and concisely.
"Good girl," he didn't emphasise the degrading term, he seemed quite familiar with the play. Alice wasn't sure she should object to being taken off the Hunt, or just relax and enjoy the restraints. They weren't tight, and she could squirm a bit. The slack in the ropes had let her almost get off the platform.
But they held her neck, wrists and ankles firmly. Alice wanted to lie back and enjoy them, and since her brief struggle hadn't gotten her anywere, she noted the man hadn't hit her or yanked her bonds. In fact, he was treating her quite nicely, for a bound woman.
Now for those of you squicked by the idea, remember Alice liked to walk around the Estate completely nude to avoid any suntan lines. I heartily reccommend you allow nineteen-year- olds to emulate her body confidence. Also, since the Estate is clothing-optional, even the guests are allowed nudity. Believe me, y'all can get used to it.
Besides, the taxidermy shed is on the Estate, so Alice wasn't exactly kidnapped. She was sure it wasn't a guest either, because they wouldn't be so casual about the ropes. She didn't know all the employees' voices, and she *was* supposed to be Hunted, so she spoke.
"Sir, please, if I may speak?" she paused for his "Yes" and learned he knew the roleplay. Alice continued, "HuntMaster Alfonse wants me to run as a vixen today, and I can't obey if you keep me here. Please, Sir, let me go so I can continue."
"What makes you think I give a rat's ass what *Al* wants?" There was a rough tone to her captor's voice, and Alice cringed and stayed quiet. It was not the time to ask questions of Sir. It sounded like he knew Master Alfonse, but they weren't friendly.
The sudden slap of her bare midriff brought Alice back to full attention. As it happened Alice likes a mild slap, but she prefers a nice rump-warming, and she whimpered. Weren't they just playing? The man unsnapped her fox snout, leaving the mask on her.
"I asked a question, wench!" The anger was clearer, as was the change in wording.
"Yes Sir. Sorry Sir." Alice used the title properly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to anger you ---"
Alice's apology was interrupted as the mysterious captor covered her mouth with his! Of course, she was human and clean, it was just a behaviour contrast. Alice's eyes went wide and she hestitated briefly, and then gave in to the oral pressure. His tongue invaded her mouth.
They began to duel. Thrust, parry. Lunge, riposte. Alice rather enjoyed the forceful kiss. The man could easily have slapped her face, or in fact anyplace on her luscious restrained sexy body he damn well pleased. If she hadn't been so deliciously tied she would've embraced him. The fake vixen didn't really mind.
In case you didn't know, submissives of all genders tend to enjoy a free person's attention. Now I'll admit the first time a man kissed me was a shock, because I'm a hetboy and I was pretty naive back in college. When it became obvious the guard was just roughing me up and taking pleasure from me, I learned to relax.
A bit of a spank and some rough handling adds a certain spice, don't you think?
Nobody on the Hunt knew what was being done to our yummy vixen. Mistress Roberta and I knew something was amiss, and She used Her cell phone to inform HuntMaster Alfonse. He sounded as if he was having trouble containing his anger, but She knew it wasn't directed at Her. Master had an idea about who was involved.
As the three Hunt officals discussed the problem with a three-way (uh, just talking!) it became rather obvious that our Hunt had been ruined. What had started out as a nice morning of chasing a scantily-fur-clad young woman through the woods had been marred by the tripper vines, wet traps and path flag changes, and now our vixen was missing.
Master Ernest called the Lodge and asked if they'd seen her. She was supposed to stay at the safety cabin and signal her win, but they hadn't heard. I was worried, because I've served with Alice and I like her a lot. Cue creepy music, old guy and young woman. Despite the fact I'm older than her father, Alice and I are occasionally used for intimate play.
Email me for details.
The question of whether or not to continue was moot. Guests had paid for a hunt, and hadn't really seen Alice since she was released a few hours ago. I may not have mentiond that I think women look very beautiful on their knees chained nude. Frankly men do too, but it's the women I want to examine.
Ok, enough about the damn dog's interests, I'm a sub. My point about the Hunt is, we'd passed the fifth turn and were almost at the sixth, the last one before the straight run to the Lodge. We had to go back there anyway, so we dogs milled around before the humans whipped us into shape and started us running again.
Bark! Bark! It was enough of a rest, and we were entertainment, so we pushed down our concern for Alice and charged off like we were still chasing vixen tail. I don't know if we fooled anyone.
Anyway, the group had trotted past the swampy places and I don't think anyone was looking for tyre ruts. We rounded the last turn, and we do call it the 'Clubhouse Turn' like at a racetrack. In several minutes we topped the last rise and saw the Lodge ahead off to the right, and the safety cabin left. The smoke signal was missing.
Some of the hunters may have noticed, but it's harder to see what isn't there. They may not have known Alice was supposed to signal her win, and since we'd been chasing her, she should have gotten here first. We were worried, and Master Alfonse let Master Ernest escort the guests to the Lodge.
The rest of us went back to the squishy ground, careful to go single file in our previous hoof and slipper prints. If we'd messed up the clues, at least we weren't compounding the problem.
By the time the old dog jogged up, Mistress Roberta had pointed out the tyre rut, and the dogs were on our hands and knees. There was no need to keep to costume, and we removed the leggings to keep them from getting any muddier. There was a pile of carefully-stacked costumes.
Now remember we were still wearing the fake tails as well as the anchors. About a dozen young men wearing skimpy bikini briefs, and women wearing skimpy bikinis and bras, all looking furry, down looking for more clues. All the practically bare rumps with rough unbleached cloth and we were too busy to enjoy.
There was a patch of flattened grass near the rut. Young-woman sized, we had Betty lie down to check. It looked a lot like a woman running had suddenly fallen forward, crawled a step or two, and -- stopped, or been stopped?
The heavy bootmarks in the grass, and the heavier ones leading to the rut, talked loudly. Someone had stopped Alice as she jogged along the path, then she tried to run away. He'd chased her, done something to slow her down, caught and stopped her. Her vixen-paw slipper-prints ended.
He must have caught her, picked her up and carried her to his bike. We all knew Alice had kidnap fantasies, but none of Master Alfonse, Master Ernest or Mistress Roberta had planned this. They were pretty sure none of us dogs had done it, none had left the pack.
Even when we were milling around being confused dogs, everyone kept track. We were social animals. Before the Hunt, we'd been kept in our dorm cages. We were all kept nude, because we're submissives. None of us keeps a cell phone on duty, none of us can hide one, none of the guards lends theirs to any beast.
It was a mystery how the vixen-napping had been conceived, planned, carried out and covered up. When the police were called, most of them were already aware of the Main Line Hunt Club's kinky relaxations. But it let the Vanillas know they exist, and now the more adventurous Vanillas became involved.
Back in the shed, a man was enjoying his captive. Alice was bound for real, and she didn't want to anger him. But he hadn't rented her, she hadn't been ordered to serve him. So she resisted, pulled against the ropes, took his slaps. The bulge in his denim jeans showed he wasn't simply angry with her.
There was no reason to hesitate with her, and that'd be a mistake for dominants. Even if you aren't sure what she'll consent to, never act unsure. Don't ask a submissive's ok, command us to tell you. Please take control of us, we deeply enjoy a strong domination.
Sir took his vixen at his leisure. He wasn't worried about being caught, because free men have use of the submissives of any gender. Technically she would've reached the safety shed and won, because the whole pack was far enough behind her.
Umh, I kinda like being behind Alice, especially watching her behind. I'm not so old I can't enjoy some well-toned thighs and rumpcurves. Seeing her front is interesting too. Here the nineteen-year-old yummy was, lying on a padded table, barely clothed because the man had removed the vixen costume arm and leg fur pieces.
He'd simply pulled each section down, exposing Alice's tanned skin, and leaving the wrist and ankle ropes on her. He'd taken her fake snout, leaving the mask on, and the sexy red- fur vixen tail draped saucily over the side. The anchor was still deep in her rump, the curved T-handle slipped between her human cheeks, under her and tickling at her panties.
He saw no reason not to remove the fur-lined bra, and Alice was tied down spread out helpless unable to fight him. She tried to resist anyway, squirming right and left to make it hard -- I mean, difficult for him to reach. He let her roll a bit and spanked her rump when she revealed it. She squealed, not really in pain.
Sir rolled his captive to remove the left leg fur, and spanked her again. Alice likes it rather a lot and wasn't shy about showing her captor. She giggled a bit at the forced strip-tease, because Sir was being so careful with the costume. Sure he was pulling the pieces off her yummy body, but he wasn't tearing the nylon net backing or the fur.
Now if you've ever done adult spanking you've enjoyed the rumpflesh moving under your hand, and if you've been spanked, you've enjoyed the dominant's power over you. Alice was not exactly fighting her captivity, because the ropes felt too good wrapped a few careful turns around her wrists and ankles, knotted over the wraps, rope led off under the table.
The knots were done to hold her, not to hurt her. Don't use movie bondage as a guide, because villains *want* to hurt victims, especially the hero's romantic interest, to hurt the hero. Sir knew what he was doing with and to Alice, and she appreciated his skill.
When Sir's hands began stroking up her bared skin, the coolness of the air joined his light touch in giving the fake vixen wave after wave of thrill. He wasn't a rapist or a sickie, he put off his own arousal to make Alice hot. Stroke a woman, just barely touching her smooth skin, she'll respond.
When Alice felt his skilled hands she relaxed. Sir controlled his vixen, she liked a nice rub after her run, she was held for his pleasure and they both enjoyed him feeling her up. Feet, ankles, shins, calves. He stroked her behind her knees and the ropes held her, keeping her flesh for him.
Then he began her thighs, teasing up toward her panties. She arched her back, and was a little confused when he put a cushion under her rump. She tried to wiggle, and the tail twitched. Sir gripped the furry appendage and used it against her, stroking her bare flesh and making her gasp.
Sir felt up her thighs for his own amusement of making Alice hot. Maybe he knew her secrets, or he was just that skilled with women. Subbes learn to appreciate a skilled fondle, and frankly Alice likes a good grope. She let him squeeze her firm toned rump and moaned.
She was surprised when he pushed her on her right side against the ropes, reached both hands under her rump, and detached her tail! Push into the woman, half a turn anti-clockwise, remove. Now Sir had a floofy tool to tickle Alice with, and he took advantage of her bound helplessness to go all over her body.
Alice was deeply enjoying being bound and worked over. She was panting, and her breathing stretched her furry bra enticingly. Alice's panties were becoming moist, and she wasn't gagged in her mask. She wasn't screaming in fear, wasn't yelling for help. She wanted him to strip her completely.
Sir obliged. Sigh, such a needy female, so much work. But he rose to the challenge.
I don't want to bore you any more, and I see your attention wavering. Y'all're free people, so that's your right. With no vixen to hunt, and the Lodge in sight anyway, Master Alfonse led the hunt party in.
The dog pack was required to help the guests dismount, and lead the horses to cool down before taking them (the horses of course, not the guests) to the stables. Now a certain number of the kinkier guests wanted to watch the dogs at the kennels, taking off their furs and showering.
Of course that's their right too. They could of course rent the males and females privately afterward, and I've really enjoyed being rented, but Master Alfonse told me to come with him. I was scared, because I knew I'd failed, and it felt like the last time I'd be allowed on a Hunt.
But I was too disciplined to dare anger Him by pleading. My time would come soon enough. I did fall to my knees in the fur as I had for Mistress Roberta, my chest flat on the grass, my arms extended, left wrist over right. If He walked into the Office, I'd follow on my feet, so as not to dirty the furs.
I thought about begging Him to take me to His private room and enjoy me, but it wasn't my place. I felt conflicted, because a submissive deeply wants to please a free person, and even though I'm still a hetboy, I was willing to satisfy his anger. I've said I like a nice rump-warming, becase it's a point of pride that I can take some pain.
Mistress Roberta spoke softly, and Master Ernest joined the conference. I sensed they were more concerned about Alice than mad at me, and I relaxed. I wondered if they'd remember they'd put a tracking collar on Alice, with just enough battery to last a few hours before, during and after the hunt.
If she still had the vixen mask on, it'd hide the back of her neck where the tracker was. The battery pack was in several pieces, covered by her collar, the mask and the fur on her bra. She looked furry from behind and in front, and men would be looking at Alice's sexy bulges, not the tracker.
They started to leave to go to the Office together, and I carefully rose to walk a respect- ful distance back. I held my head down and my wrists crossed in front, in case anyone wanted to grab me. I enjoy a nice grab and grope. Remember I was practically nude under the fur, just a skimpy men's bikini brief holding my ass in back and my assets in front.
You may be wondering how the frak I know what the Master was doing with Alice, and I was told to skip ahead. Some more boring things happened in the Office after Master Alfonse chained His dog under a desk. When He sat down, my sub training took over, and I carefully rubbed his muddy boots with my fake Dalmation snout.
Mistress Roberta noted my obsequiousness of course, but pretended to ignore it. Alice is merely a subbe, but missing property is still valuable and worth recovering. I was just keeping to my dog role. Master Ernest chuckled and called me over, so I crawled over to rub my snout on his pants cuff.
I'm a good dog and I'm used to the hard wooden floors on my knees. Master gripped my fake tail and stuffed the anchor deeper in me. I moaned helplessly and stayed on all fours, folded my arms and dropped my chest. I know a tail stuffing means to present myself like a bitch.
It was just before my mind went helplessly squishy that I looked up and saw the flashing light of Alice's tracker go dark.