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On the heels of "The exclusive" and "Evening edition," Sandra Callaway offers the stoat Danny Hayes a trade. But things are never so easy, for wayward wolf-girls, particularly when they have an ulterior motive of their own...

Uh oh, it's Sandra and Danny again! This story came out of a cheerily productive conversation with the charmingly depraved Max Coyote and Spudz at RMFC, which was an amazing con and y'all should be there next time! It's one of Those Stories, so, uh -- read the tags, and don't say I didn't warn ya ;) Thanks to Spudz for handcuffing this story to a desk and fucking the errors out of it :D

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

"Matching donations," by Rob Baird (A Pledge Drive Canto, with "The Exclusive" and "Evening Edition")

---

Sergeant Hayes was distracted when the front door opened, lost in an increasingly frustrating game on his cell phone. The premise was deceptively simple, sliding tiles to combine matching numbers, but as the board started to fill up it was harder and harder for him to plan his next move. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuckin'..."

At nearly 11PM, there was not much to disturb the tedium of the Cannon Shoals police department; Dan presumed that in the event of an actual emergency Carlos or his partner would've radioed in. So he ignored the door; it was at the_thump_ of booted footsteps that the stoat raised his eyes.

And then immediately narrowed them: "Fuck. What do you want?"

He didn't think of Sandra Callaway as an enemy -- more a distraction that was useful only when he really wanted to be distracted. Sandra was a short white wolf, of California extraction, who worked at the public radio station as a reporter. She also happened to be the girlfriend of his obnoxious neighbor.

This minor point had not kept him from fucking her senseless any more than the wolf's growled protests. It had also not kept Dan from repeating the job when she came over to growl at him about it -- she was not, in his opinion, very good about understanding consequences.

"Hey, Danny," she said.

The stoat set his phone aside. "What do you want?" he asked again.

She glanced around the deserted station. "I need your help with something."

This, Hayes thought, oughta be good. "I just fuckin' bet." But he took the time to examine her; in any case it would be good for his imagination later. Her t-shirt, for example -- it was sized appropriately for spring break or a sorority party, perhaps, but it strained with her curves and clung tightly enough to leave no details to the imagination. To his way of thinking, nobody showed up dressed like that without knowing exactly what they were getting themselves into.

"So... there was a noise complaint a couple days back..."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Yeah? New_Serial_ came out and you had the volume too loud?"

He could_see_ in the way her ears twitched that she was biting back a more acerbic response. "No. Paul and I kind of... kind of got into it a bit." She grimaced, and had to bite back harder: "Not like that."

"I just. Fuckin'. Bet." The wolf bitch had a bit of a fighty streak to her; she was fun to wind up. "What, then?"

"It's not really any of your business," she told him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Just... look, I know there was a complaint, and I can't really have any trouble with my landlord right now..."

He snorted. "So you want me to... what? Make it 'go away for you'?" Dan added air quotes around the suggestion.

Her eyes made another sweep of the empty office, and darkened. "Yes. I also know what that means..."

"Do you?"

"I'm... I'm willing to do what you want, yeah. Sure."

"None of this after-the-fact 'oh gosh, no, you took advantage of me' bullshit? 'Cause I don't feel like puttin' with you gettin' all uppity." Both times he'd fucked her, Sandra had later decided her sluttiness was somehow Danny's fault.

Trying to have it her cake and eat it, too -- particularly since she was coming back for thirds. "No. I... I've been thinking we should... we should rethink our relationship. Be more honest."

"Honest?"

"It doesn't have to be complicated, Danny. You have something I want, and... I have something you want. We can be honest about that, right?"

"Hm."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

"Thinkin'."

Dan suspected that he_would_ take her up on it; there wasn't much reason not to. All the same, what kind of negotiator took the first offer he was given? The stoat wanted a reason -- something to make it worthwhile.

Sandra wasn't in the mood for providing details, so in the end he told her he'd sleep on it. Dirty as the wolf was, in spite of her flawless pelt, she wasn't stupid enough to suspect any_moral_ qualms or self-doubt. At best, Danny figured she assumed he was waiting for a night he was more pent-up.

Not quite. Mostly, he was intrigued by her_real_ motivation -- something that must've been fairly unusual, because she was acting cagey. Help with something -- right. Well, he'd "helped" her a few times before; that wasn't a surprise. But he suspected that something else was going on, and they weren't exactly on the best of terms.

He wanted his curiosity sated.

Fortunately Paul Fisher, her boyfriend since well before they'd moved from California to Cannon Shoals, lived in the same building as Dan. They didn't talk_often_, because Paul didn't care for video games or science fiction and what he did care about bored the stoat to tears.

Paul was, however, easily cowed. The stoat reasoned that if he wanted an explanation for Sandra's behavior -- or at least a good reason to fuck some sense into her -- her boyfriend could be counted on to provide. He woke up early the next morning to knock on his neighbor's door, readying his best attitude.

"Oh, uh -- good morning, Daniel." Paul opened his mouth to protest when the other man pushed past him and into his living room, then thought better of it: "Uh, yeah, okay, it's fine, come in... how can I help you?"

All the apartments in the complex were roughly the same shape and size. Where Dan's was dominated by a television and his haphazard organizational skills, though, Paul Fisher had transformed the space into what appeared to be the waiting room of an art gallery.

It reflected the wolf's peculiar style. He was an outsider to Cannon Shoals. What with his Saab and his bicycle and the quirky bookstore he ran, the unimposing Paul stood in stark contrast to the coarser-hewn natives. Nobody born to the town would ever have thought of putting colored accent lights in the foyer.

Danny put on his best menacing smile, to match the attitude. "How the fuck ya been?"

The wolf looked Dan over, and seemed to be trying to figure out whether or not the visit was social in nature. "I've been okay..."

Too friendly -- that was his problem. Too easy-going, particularly for a predator. The paintings on the wall were garish and well beyond Dan's aesthetic, and the stoat knew that he could've insulted them at will without more than a stammering reproach. "Bookstore's good?"

"Yeah... uh... plenty of tourists. I was talking to Jenny about --"

"How's your bitch doing?"

Paul coughed, and his ears wavered. "Uh. Sandra? She's..."

Dan rolled his eyes at the way the wolf had trailed off. "Don't tell me with all yer fancy books ya can't figure out how to say it. C'mon, Tofu Dude. 'My bitch is...'"

"Fine. Also fine."

"No trouble in paradise?" Dan let his eyes wander a bit, taking in Paul's eclectic art collection.Jesus fuckin' Christ. The nearest painting looked like someone had sneezed on the canvas -- a few erratic yellow splotches and dribbles on an otherwise blank slate. Paid more'n I make in a damn month for that, I bet... "Heard there was a bit of a spat."

"Well, we... uh. You mean the argument? We..." He shuffled on his feet and, to Dan's complete lack of surprise, failed to rise to the level of asking the stoat to leave. "That was nothing. Just a bit of a... well. You know. Relationship stuff."

"Serious?"

Dan could see that Paul_wanted_ to tell him that it was none of his business. Instead, the wolf stared at the floor. "Uh. Well."

"Just, you know. Somebody called us."

"Yeah, it... I mean, it wasn't..."

"There must be a story."

"Not really."

"Fucked up something? Ruined yer kambuchee?"

"Kombucha. No. Look, it..."

Dan had turned his back on him, and was glancing around the apartment.More money than sense, that was his impression. All the paintings, and the expensive-ass stereo hooked up to a goddamn turntable like it was 1960 or something. And it was all too self-consciously pristine.

"Hey, uh..."

Dan looked over at his neighbor's question. "What?"

Sandra, at least, had enough self-awareness to dress herself properly. The white wolf's standard uniform of ragged, raw-denim jeans and a tight-fitting leather jacket added a pleasant accent to her curves.

Her boyfriend, by contrast, wore his jeans and a pattered t-shirt in a way that was supposed to suggest lackadaisical affability and instead made him look like he fetched coffee for an underfunded startup.

When he slouched, as he did now, he looked nothing so much as a chastised pup. "Are you here_officially_, Daniel?"

"Why? You want me to leave?"

Paul clearly did; it was mostly a matter of working up the nerve or self-respect to make it happen. "Well..."

"Out with it."

Instead, he fidgeted, digging his sandals into the edge of a nice rug. "I mean. You're just...here. And, um. And Sandra's affairs aren't really your, uh... your concern."

The stoat raised an eyebrow. "Affairs, huh?"

"Not like that." Paul caught himself quickly, as soon as he understood Dan's implication. "Not what I meant. I meant, ah --"

Dan's grins were never entirely pleasant; he was rarely grinning over entirely pleasant things. "I know what you meant."

His neighbor sighed, and toyed with his paws. "No you don't. You don't really know anything about us."

This wasn't completely untrue. The two Californians were decidedly strangers, and Dan didn't often even pretend to care about them. But so what? "Know you plenty. You're my neighbor. Listened to ya ramble enough, ain't I? Know your bitch plenty, too." Their first encounter had, in fact, been Paul's idea -- he'd suggested she talk to him for a story, during the riots in Oak Valley. Dan had decided she was in need of a bit more than that. "Don't worry 'bout that..."

The wolf's look shifted -- enough so that Dan guessed he was missing some of the nuance of canine body language. "Daniel, I'm sort of busy. Perhaps we could take this up another time."

"Sure. Sure thing." He made to leave; had his paw on the door, when he heard Paul's mouth open again. And a pause, while he built the words up.

"Why don't you... maybe, uh... stay away from her?"

"'Scuse me?" He turned, leaning against the door -- daring the wolf to take the next step.

He didn't, of course. "Just, uh. You know. Leave her alone."

Dan's grin returned, and he folded his arms over his chest. "Seriously?"

"Y-yes."

"Just gonna up an' start givin' me orders?"

That wasn't the response Paul had been expecting, clearly, for his ears swiveled back and he shrunk back defensively. "Yes?"

The policeman tilted his head, cocking his gaze up like he had to think for a spell. Then, with a shrug, he stepped far enough from the door to open it. "We'll see." Halfway through he looked back, over his shoulder. "Hey. Here's a question."

"Yes?"

"Why the fuck d'you think I'd care what you say?"

The door, on springs, clicked shut some seconds later with no answer. Dan snorted derisively, and headed back to his own apartment for a beer and a spell of self-reflection, such as he ever bothered with. Paul, who normally couldn't stop running his fucking mouth, was also being quiet.

Relationship trouble? Was that why the both of them were so fucking unreadable? Hell -- and here, recalling it, Dan couldn't help but chuckle -- Paul had even imposed some sad demand to stay away from his girlfriend.

Dan was not in the mood to comply with anything as stupid as that.

He couldn't say why Paul annoyed him so. Some of it was simply that he was an outsider -- that he'd made enough money in San Francisco to play with his dumb fucking bookstore like it meant a damn. Some of it was also his grating earnestness, about everything from electric cars to international politics.

But most of it, since Dan cared about neither money nor intrigue, was that he didn't deserve Sandra. More specifically, he didn't take advantage of her in the way the wolf bitch really -- in Dan's considered opinion -- begged to be taken advantage of. Paul was a decent guy; Sandra was not, and it consistently fell to Dan to take her down a few pegs.

Her offer, for example. That was pretty obvious. She needed a favor from him, and he wasn't worth doing anything serious for. Wasn't like she'd offer to help him repaint his apartment. Wasn't even like she'd buy him a case of beer, which was how the stoat settled most transactions. Probably she figured she'd get off, too, which_kinda_ made it like he was doing her two favors.

Dan Hayes did not face an overwhelming need to get laid. He had two decent paws and an Internet connection, neither of which entailed the complication of putting up with some dumb fuck deciding halfway through that she was in over her head and needing to be taught that you didn't just_do_ that.

On the other hand, he now had both the opportunity_and_ the desire to tweak Paul, and that was almost good enough on its own. Sandra would need some instruction, too; the following night shift, waiting for her to show up, he mused over the form that this might take.

Unfortunately the town felt like being rowdy -- two calls and the paperwork entailed in dealing with provincial bullshit ensured that he was kept busy. And that he was good and frustrated when the door buzzed and he caught sight of the wolf's pale fur glowing under the streetlamp.

Grumbling, he let her in and then pointed to the room that served as a department office. Like they really needed one -- it amounted to a rickety desk, an even more rickety chair, and a calendar on the wall that was two years out of date.

"Hey Danny. You get the records sorted?"

"Yeah, I found yer fuckin' disciplinary note from teacher." Not that this had amounted to much, either. "Don't expect anybody's gonna care."

"Then, uh..."

Her playing dumb was not helping his disposition any. "Then_what_?"

"Do you want to, like --"

"Why are you still talking?"

"What?"

"What part of this deal was yer fuckin'exposition?" He took a seat on the edge of the desk, watching her. When she paused, the stoat narrowed his eyes pointedly. "Ain't in the mood to wait. For such a well-trained slut, you got a hell of a dumb streak to ya..."

Sandra huffed, and glanced over her shoulder to the door. "Aren't you going to... lock it, or..." Kinda cute, really -- like she had any dignity to be worried about?

But every moment spent being cute was a moment she didn't have his cock in her mouth, and Dan was growing impatient. He pointed to the floor in front of him: "Bitch. Here. Get over here now."

She complied, if slowly, still looking occasionally over her shoulder as she slunk over to the stoat's desk. "Look, I wanted something from you; you want something from me. Can you at least_pretend_ to not be an asshole? For, like --"

There. There was that little growly look she gave when Sandra thought she had a right to it. Maybe this will be more fun than I thought. He grinned darkly at her: "I look like one of your NPR friends, bitch?"

"Just --"

"On today's_This American Life_, we're telling stories of how to be an obedient slut when someone tells you," he suggested with a leering grin.

"Danny..."

"Rather than talking, like anybody gave a fuck aboutcher dumb whore opinion." Her lip curled, and Dan had to laugh at how easy she was to rile up. "Act one: 'open yer goddamn muzzle and put a cock in it.'"

"Look, maybe this was --"

That was the problem. She said she wanted to be honest, but when it got down to it Sandra still wanted to indulge some fiction of self-respect.

And Dan was not feeling indulgent.

"On your knees." When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off with a steely glare. "No. You know how to behave. Geddown, public radio bitch."

Sandra bit her lip, and settled down in front of the desk. Her ears went back and her eyes darkened, so that even when she started to undo the stoat's fly he would know she wasn't exactly fond of the idea.

That was just fine by him. Her own preference was not particularly significant -- she had a good muzzle, and skilled paws, and when she got his belt open and slipped her fingers into the open trousers of his uniform he rewarded her with a low, hissing growl. "That's better. Now keep going..."

She tugged his boxers down, and he felt the white wolf's fingers fold around his already half-hard cock, stroking it slowly to full attention. "Why do you have to be like that?"

"Because you ain't as fuckin' clever as you think." Her squeezing grasp sent warm ripples down the length of the stoat's cock, and now that she was doing her job he let himself get into it a little more. "You got a decent body and a good mouth, but you ain't_half_ as clever as you think..."

"Meaning?"

Meaning she needed to be taught a lesson now and then. Meaning she needed to know who was in charge. She worked her soft-furred fingers up from the base of his shaft all the way to the tapered end, and he felt it throb with the bit of precum that beaded at the tip. "Meanin' you're done talking."

Cannon Shoals was mostly canine, and the stoat was a rarity there, but he had to admit there were a few nice things about wolves. One, as pack animals they knew how to yield to an alpha -- clearly, by her behavior, Paul did not serve in this role. Two, they also knew how to put up a fight: Sandra had not really done so yet, because she still thought she was in control, and he would have to fix that because Dan liked putting the bitch in her place.

Three, those fucking_tongues_. She lapped at him gingerly, sending momentary flickers of soft warmth here and there and leaving his shaft slick and wet. The only thing better than the feeling of smooth velvet was the dark look in the wolf's yellow eyes. And the anticipation of getting her lips around him, stuffing her sharp-tongued maw full of stoat cock.

By the way she was licking, Sandra seemed to think this wouldn't be necessary: the broad, slurping strokes were getting heavier and heavier like she could get away with just that and a bit of squeezing. A correction was in order. "Open your mouth."

Grumbling.

"Bitch," he warned her sharply. "Open it."

"But..."

"We did this last time. It'll fit."

Taking a deep breath, she parted her muzzle, and before she could get any dumb ideas Dan guided his tip between the wolf's lips and pushed forward to work a few good inches inside. She grunted, and he had to snicker at the way his girth muffled her objections.

"What'd I tell ya, bitch? Now suck it like a good little pup." Her ears went back, but she couldn't very well say anything in answer and when she closed her lips to suckle on his thick, solid meat he didn't bother to hide his pleased groan.

More or less obligingly, she started to work him over, nudging her muzzle as far as she could comfortably go. Even that left a good chunk of his prick outside, where her hot breath whistled against it in shallow, huffing pants. He met her next downward stroke with a sharp thrust that pushed him all the way into her throat, and caught her gag as a rippling tightness before she stifled it.

Years of practice, he bet. There were a few half-decent muzzles in the Shoals, but if he had to grade them... "Y'know, public radio bitch, you're prob'ly my favorite whore. I bet that makes you happy, don't it? Makes yer whole fuckin' day." Her eyes flicked up, and tried to narrow, but with a mouth full of dick any critical look was profoundly undermined. He folded his paw around her ear, guiding the swifter pace of her bobbing muzzle. "God, you suck cock like a champ."

More growling. She didn't really get_into_ it, like some of them did -- her tail still wasn't wagging. Still... still, it felt so fucking good -- clinging, sucking heat like a wet glove stroking him, and the writhing dance of her silky tongue edging him closer, bit by bit...

"Yeah, you like it. Keep comin' back... oh, you're a good girl." He could hear his words becoming ever more strained, now; felt his breathing coming ever more heavy as he fought for it. "Good bitch. Good little bitch... gonna getcher treat here in a sec'... bit harder -- suck harder, slut -- there you go. There you --"

"Dan?"

Sandra came to an immediate halt at the new voice, leaving the stoat grunting, right at the edge. "Bad time, Scout," he warned through gritted teeth, and then dropped his gaze to the suddenly useless wolf. "Didn't tell you to stop."

Carlos Ortiz -- 'Scout' -- was Dan's sometimes-partner, a coyote with a coyote's ragged fur and a coyote's amber eyes and a coyote's lean build and way too fucking little of a coyote's inclination for mischief. "Friend of yours?"

"Bitch from the radio station," he explained.

Sandra growled and pulled herself off the stoat's cock, looking over her shoulder at the sudden interruption. "I, ah -- we were -- I'm Sandra C --"

"Bitch from the radio station," Dan repeated. "Who had a fucking job to do. Get back to it."

"But he's -- uh --"

Dan often wondered why civilians had such a hard time following orders. Now, though -- now his impatience had a bit of a feral edge. Rolling his eyes, he slid from the desk and grabbed Sandra by the shoulder to haul her upright against a yelp of protest and a momentary flash of teeth. "You thought you were done?"

"But the --" Still bewildered, she got halfway through a gesture in Scout's direction before Dan twisted her arm behind her back and shoved her over onto the desk. "Hey!"

"You thought you were done?" he snapped again. Leaning on the squirming wolf to keep her from doing anything stupid, he kept her wrists in place with one paw while the other went to work on her jeans. She always had nice jeans -- he'd ruined at least one pair before.

Sandra kicked and fought when he forced them open, trying to get the stoat off her back and showing the marked ignorance of mechanical leverage he'd come to expect from her. "Dan, Jesus Christ, don't be a --"

"I'll fuckin' show you_done_." He tugged the raw denim over her curvy rump and shoved it swiftly to the ground. "Bitch here an' I got some stuff to take care of, Scout."

"I can see that..."

"We had a deal." The stoat felt for her panties, and when his claw caught he tugged those, too, ignoring the sound of tearing fabric. It all had the same effect, after all.

"This --" Sandra twisted sharply, failed to dislodge him, and settled for an ineffective snarl. "Wasn't part of any_deal_."

"Shut it. She can get pretty mouthy," he told his partner. "You stickin' around? Ah..." He changed his mind even as he asked the question: "Yeah, you're stickin' around. Good to have company."

Carlos flicked his right ear, and surveyed the encounter like a good cop. The white wolf's pants were down around her ankles, trapped at her feet by scuffed hiking boots. Dan Hayes had her pressed roughly against the desk, keeping her from putting any mouthiness to good use, and his hard cock, pushed into the fur of her thigh, stood in sharp contrast to her flawless pelt.

It was, in other words, the kind of thing he'd learned to expect from Dan. He thought he recognized the wolf, or at least the name 'Sandra.' She shot him a fiery-eyed glare, like it was suddenly_his_ fault that she'd decided to swap favors with the stoat, and Carlos shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, alright, I'll stick around..."

He's learning, Dan thought to himself with a grin. He celebrated the coyote's decision with a deep grind of his hips, shoving his crotch against the wolf's snowy rump, and clicked his teeth sharply when she answered with a growl. "No. Obedient slut."

"Danny..."

"Scout's a good guy." The stoat shifted his stance, feeling his cock nudge through her fur to bump against the smooth, yielding flesh of her pussy. Warm -- soft -- appreciably slick. He snorted, and let up a little of the pressure on her back. "Goddamn, but you're a shit actor. You_want_ him to watch, don't you?"

She scowled, though the policeman's cock had pushed against her lips with an audibly slick squish and, bent over the desk, she didn't have the room to get away from that reality. "I don't think the deal is still on."

"Of course it isn't." He worked his hips in a steady rhythm, forcing her slowly, slickly open around his cock. "You broke it.Now I'm just teaching you a lesson --"

"Danny --"

"An' if you're_lucky_, I'll help ya out as a favor." He pushed in a little deeper, and she shivered. "Oh, you want that, don't you? Don't lie. Scout's an honest man. He doesn't like liars. Right, Scout?"

The coyote was torn between wanting to provide a straight answer and a sense of increasing distraction. He could smell the wolf thickly, in the small room, hot and musky beneath the more subtle aroma of his partner. And any reply had to contend with his trousers, which felt achingly tight. "Yeah... uh. Yeah, I'm the good cop."

Dan stopped, with three inches of cock pushed into the wolf, and paused thoughtfully. "Huh. That's right. I_am_ the bad cop, aren't I?"

"Danny -- look, this wasn't a good idea," Sandra muttered. "Maybe we should..."

"Nah." He did pull back, and even ignored the lewd slurp his prick made, sliding free of her.Speaking of good ideas. He used his free paw to angle up a bit, sliding between her full cheeks to push beneath the wolf's brushy white tail. "There we go. That's more a bad cop thing..."

"Danny. Fucking -- don't --"

The stoat bent over her, crushing the breath from the wolf and resting his snarling muzzle close to her ear. "No. I didn't ask you, slut. I am not Terri Gross, this is not an interview, and you don't get a fuckin' opinion. Clear, bitch?"

He'd lowered his voice to a bubbling, warning growl by the end of it, but she looked ready to say something dumb anyway so he went ahead and clamped her muzzle shut. Any protest turned into a muffled grunt. Satisfied, he pushed hard against her struggling hips, working his cock against the tight ring of her tailhole until the pressure and the generously slippery juices she'd coated him with did their job and the tension yielded.

"Good," Dan purred. "Nice, tight little ass you've got there..." Smooth, squeezing him all snug and hot. Once he was past that first constriction it was easy enough to sink his cock fluidly into the wolf bitch's rear. "How did I not do this before?"

Another grunt; he still had her muzzle closed. The answer came as muted squeals through her nose as he stretched her painfully tight.

"Right..." He pulled back, lowly, savoring every moment, then pushed back inside. Slick as his shaft was, the friction kept his pace measured lest he lose control completely. "Gonna let you talk, whore. Why didn't we do this last time?"

He let her muzzle go, and of course she had nothing immediately useful to say. "God damn it, Danny," she whined, teeth clenched. "Stoppit. What the hell are you --"

"No," he cautioned, and followed the warning up with a deeper thrust. "That wasn't the question."

Her whimpers faded, though her ears stayed pinned as he began to pump fluidly into her, waiting a reply. "You're too big..."

But that was a matter of opinion. "What, yer boyfriend don't fill ya right? Fuckin' shit excuse for a wolf -- should see the goddamn fuck, Scout."

The coyote was more focused on watching his partner, though. His own trousers were tented sharply, watching the stoat thrust into the hapless wolf, whose eyes were shut and who fought back a tense quiver every time he claimed her rump. "I bet..." Carlos was quickly losing the battle against the desire to get his pants open.

"Ain't much use, I guess." Dan chuckled harshly and straightened up, though he kept his paw on the wolf's wrists so she didn't go anywhere. "Unless... is_that_ it, public radio bitch? Filthy little slut ya are, an' ya never let him do this?"

"Fuck you," she muttered, though it was really more of a gasp.

"Yeah..." Dan pressed into her again, and this time he kept going until her hiked tail was pinned against his belly and their hips were flush. Hilted snugly in her ass, he gave the wolf's rear a rough grope. "Say that again."

"Fuck.You."

He got back to his steady, fluid pace. Wouldn't be right to hurt her. He had no intention of that, just to make her first time memorable enough that she'd be ruined for Paul -- if the poor SOB ever worked up the nerve to ask. Certainly he'd never work up the nerve to just_take_ it. "Act two: 'curse all you want, you're still gettin' yer ass railed.'"

"You son of a bitch. You fucking,goddamn, son of a --"

"Yeah, yeah. Scout! Her mouth needs a cock in it, don't you agree?"

Somebody needed to be Dan's conscience, because the one he'd been provided with was on permanent sick leave. He had a temper, and a way of demanding things, and an even more pronounced way of never taking 'no' for an answer.Someone needed to step up... but not the coyote.

Carlos made his way over to the other side of the desk. The vantage point wasn't quite so good, although he could still see the way her whiskers twitched when the stoat filled her up again. Unlike Dan, he was good at reading canine body language -- good enough to understand why she wasn't putting up more of a fight.

And his partner had made a good point. The coyote slid his belt open and unzipped his pants. Getting rid of the briefs required some work, stiff as he was. Sandra caught his scent immediately, for her eyes opened -- and then widened at the sight. He winked at her. "Dan's right. Come on."

"You really think I'm going to..."

The inhalation of breath that asking took had filled her nose with the smell of coyote, and she couldn't see her way to finishing the question. Carlos grinned widely, ran his finger over the wolf's ear, and then tapped her muzzle. "Yes, I do. You look like a good girl -- c'mon."

Dan could see she was still torn. Her ears wavered and twitched, but her eyes couldn't wander far from the coyote's sizable package. The stoat dug his claws into her hips, and tugged her against a firm thrust that sank him nice and deep into her rear. Sandra whimpered; the stretched ring of her tailhole fluttered and squeezed on the intruding cock. "Listen to him, slut. Or I'll make you beg."

Panting, cursing under her breath, she opened her lips wide enough for Carlos to get the tapered tip of his canine length between them. She gasped at the taste, an inward rush of breath that he followed with an easy, gentle buck that slid him over her tongue and deep into the wolf's maw. Heat and slippery wetness engulfed him all at once. "Oh, God," he couldn't help growling. "You_are_ a good girl..."

Behind her, Dan grinned at the obvious pleasure tightening Scout's features. The coyote's eyes narrowed as he began to pump his hips slowly, working his long, throbbing dick wetly through the bitch's muzzle. She couldn't move much on her own, what with her wrists secured and her hips pinned by the stoat's own thrusts. Have to make up the difference: "Suck him good. Wanna see how fast you can get him off."

Carlos stiffened and groaned as the suction on his prick tightened further. The wolf suckled down on him like she'd ordered a malt from Rainbow's Diner and found the desert dog one step better. His hips were already starting to tremble -- when her satin-soft tongue circled the pointed head of his increasingly sensitive shaft he grunted and had to put his paw on her shoulder for leverage.

The coyote's thrusts grew shaky -- sharper -- urgent. He was fucking her muzzle properly now, holding her in place by her soft-furred ears. Sandra slurped wetly over the pistoning, pulsing cock, trying not to gag on it, her panting coming as sloppy gasps through her overfilled muzzle. Slick, tangy canine precum spurted copiously -- she had to swallow quickly, and as the pressure deepened Carlos felt his peak hit him before he could stop it.

He was beyond words. A throaty, deep groan met his last thrust as he buried himself between the wolf's lips -- thankful for her lengthy canine muzzle, which he still managed to thoroughly fill. He caught her nasal whine as she felt him throb and jerk, then heard it hitch into a wet choking grunt at the long gushes of coyote seed. She coughed -- he felt a slimy trickle past her lips as his cum overwhelmed her -- and even so he couldn't help it; couldn't stop the half-dozen spurts that followed, succumbing to the pleasure coursing through him.

Dan wasn't doing much better. From behind, he grinned lewdly as he watched his partner shudder and buck, dumping an obviously pent-up load into the wolf bitch while she struggled to take it. She squirmed, and with her rump twitching the stoat let himself lose control. Two or three more thrusts and then, teeth gritting, he rammed his cock in to the hilt and let go, filling the wolf's ass with rope after sticky rope of his cum.

By the time he was finished Sandra was slumped forward; her muzzle rested in a pool of coyote semen. Carlos had already stepped back -- his partner waited for a few seconds until he could feel his cock starting to soften before tugging himself from the constriction of the reporter's abused rump.

Her thick tail dropped at once. "God... fucking god... god damn it..."

"Oh, you liked it," Dan patted her hip like he might've any other feral animal. "New experiences. Right, bitch? Ain't you like reportin' on that shit? Clean up the desk."

"Get a towel," she muttered.

Dan snorted, and let her wrists go -- she seemed too worn out to be in the struggling mood. Grabbing her by the scruff, he pressed her muzzle into a pearly ribbon of Scout's cum, smearing it over her nose and the metal of the desk. "Clean it up, whore. Now."

Some of the fire was coming back into her eyes. Enough, at least, to glare at him -- but when he gave her a shake her ears drooped, and she settled into lapping up the mess fitfully. "I ought to fucking... ah..."

"Call it even? Guess we could get ridda yer complaint." Dan had to smile, watching the erstwhile feisty wolf licking the last bits of coyote from the desk. And her whiskers. And her nose. "You like the way Scout tastes, huh?"

"Doesn't surprise me," Carlos said, with a quiet snicker. "Considering..."

She froze -- snapped her tongue back and lifted her muzzle to shoot him a warning glance. Dan blinked -- it wasn't like the wolf slut had much room to complain about a mild slight like that. "What was that for?" the stoat asked.

Sandra kept staring, and finally Carlos chuckled again. "Nothing, Dan."

But despite his lack of any real morals, and his impulsive ways, Dan Hayes still had a policeman's properly analytical mind. He could feel his grin becoming a knowing, leering smirk. "Ah, public radio bitch.That's what you were fighting about."

"Danny..."

"Somebody wants puppies."

"Dan," she growled. "Stop."

"An'you figured if ya came to me I could take care of that complaint and getcher mind off shit for a spell." He squeezed her rump, and enjoyed both the twitch of her tail and the look of momentary distaste with having done it. "'Cause ya ain't got yer useless pet that whipped yet..."

"Danny. Please."

This just meant that he'd touched a nerve. When he looked over to his partner, Scout's wry shrug told him all he needed to know -- even without a nose keyed to canine hormones. "Well, you know. We could solve a couple problems right here..."

"No."

"I can't help, but I bet Scout could..."

The coyote smirked at the mention of his name. It did not take much to tell that Sandra was in heat, or getting that way. And what with sucking him off and all, her head had to be swimming in his scent. "My cousin Miguel married a wolf. They got kids now..."

"See?" Dan winked, although the bitch didn't seem much in the mood for humor. "Just think of it as the generous support of Scout's...charitable endowment."

"Dan." She held up her paw to cut him off; when he rolled his eyes and pushed it back down she didn't take the hint and kept talking. "We're done. I'm just going to..."

With the same easiness as he'd pressed her paw back to the desk, he reached out and closed her muzzle. As it happened, he did not really believe the slut's disapproval was genuine -- in any case he didn't believe that her disapproval meant a good goddamn. His partner was still a little too soft, and that was more important to fix. "Hey, Scout?"

"Dan?"

"Ya know what she wants. Take care of her."

Sandra shook her head fiercely, knocking his paw away from her muzzle. "Danny -- damn it --"

"I'm doing you a favor," he rumbled into the soft curve of her flawless white ear. Then he grabbed her by the scruff again, pulled her up and off the desk, and shoved her in Scout's direction.

Carlos noticed the incoming wolf with a fraction of a second to spare, catching her heavily with a surprised grunt. She was a solid weight, with her warm, soft fur, but very growly. As soon as she had her balance beneath her she started to struggle, and the coyote had to circle her with both arms to prevent her escape.

Why? The question momentarily flickered -- there was no reason he had to keep her. But the feeling of her thrashing futilely in his hold whispered filthy urges to the baser parts of his predator's brain. She writhed and fought -- snarling for him to let her go -- and all he could think of was the pressure that her squirming put against his groin, and the heat filling his nose and pushing its way into his brain.

This, he thought, and tightened his grasp, is what Dan's always known. The natural order of things was for the strong to dominate the weak. No reason to make a big deal out of it. "Calm down," he told the wolf. She responded by kicking at him -- he stomped down on her jeans, pushing her right boot off and then pushing the pants right off. The next time she tried, with her now-freed leg, he hooked one of his own around it. "Calm. Down."

"Go to hell," she spat. "The both of you go to hell."

He waited for her next attempt to free herself, and when it amounted to nothing he relaxed his grip to turn the wolf around. Now they were facing each other -- now she could feel the steely, warm heat pushing into the fur of her belly. Now their eyes met: hers were blazing, above a muzzle drawn back in a cute snarl that was unaware of its own powerlessness. "Do you really think you can stop me?"

This was where Dan would've thrown in a slur; maybe cuffed her a bit. Carlos simply kept his paws on the little wolf, to keep her from going anywhere, and enjoyed the moment. Despite her stature, her ample curves made for a lot of fun, under his fingers; when she didn't answer, at first, he squeezed to prompt her. "Fuck off," she hissed.

"Do you?" he repeated the question, meeting her glare with an unsubtle grin.

"No."

"Do you want me to?"

She broke eye contact, but snapped the reply anyway as though that might make up for the lowered volume. "Yes."

Dan was right; it was kinda fun. Carlos walked the wolf back until her thighs met the desk, pushing her onto it; the stoat had obligingly stepped back to watch. When Sandra tried to kick him, she lacked any solid leverage -- the only effect was to make it easier for the coyote to push her legs apart. "Hey," he warned with a grin, leaning over the wolf, forcing her further and further down until she was flat -- staring up at him with furrowed brow. "Dan told you not to lie..."

"I'm not..."

Carlos grinned wider. Holding her down by the shoulder and ignoring the tense jerking of her muscular legs, he pressed his cock home and felt her part smoothly around the tip -- offering no barrier or hesitation as he slid an inch or two into her steamy hot folds. "Sure you're not..."

"Don't," she tried. "Come on. You don't -- oh,fuck."

The protest ended when he thrust sharply, forcing his length deep, sliding into the wolf's slippery, tight cunt until his prick_just_ nudged against resistance. Bottomed out, his slender hips flush to the snowy white of the sullied wolf's crotch, he panted down at the whimpering reporter. "You were saying?"

Only now Sandra was contending with a coyote cock hilted inside her, so deep it might've been_impaling_ the wolf. Throbbing, pulsing heat that stretched her, claimed her, drooling trickles of precum right up against the entrance to her womb... the faint hint of a swelling knot bulging the soft pink lips in open promise of what was coming...

Biology sapped her ability to answer; fortunately Carlos understood. He thrust slowly, enjoying her quiet mewls as she tried to speak up and lost herself to the carnal sensation of a canine's length slipping into her over and over, right where it belonged. "God," he groaned to her. "God, you feel amazing..."

He said it so naturally that the subtext was obvious.Isn't it nice I made the right decision to fuck you? And as her ears drifted and pinned, he began to move faster, his steady pumps faltering into quick, ragged bucks. Sandra was still trying to grit her teeth, but her eyes were shut and the breath that whistled past those sharp canines had to fight hard to keep from being a moan.

The coyote couldn't manage steadiness for long. And what was the point? He had a job to do, and if Dan hadn't made that clear the heady spice of the wolf's heat was more than speaking for all three of them. He rocked forward, keen ears catching every bit of the lewd squelch that met his entry, and picked up the pace.

At the burst of energy Sandra yelped -- then she_did_ moan, failing to bite it off in that clenched muzzle. The coyote humped swiftly, whole length throbbing hard, faster spurts of preseed slicking her walls, bathing her with liquid heat that pooled around his knot as he forced it against her lips, straining for entry.

Didn't quite make it, not then or the second or third time he tried. The wolf's gasping whines momentarily took a curious, strained edge. She growled strangely; he saw the trembling shudder start in her bunched fingers -- then she let out a hissing bark and her hips thrust convulsively to meet the coyote's sharp, driving pace.

Watching her fight off her climax was almost as fun as watching her give in. She tossed her head back, grunting oaths that would've been very inappropriate for public broadcast had they been anything close to coherent. Carlos stiffened as her pussy clenched on the thick shaft buried halfway in, and when he managed another few inches in a jerking, unsteady thrust she barked and arched her back again.

He was facing a critical decision point, with all his faculties succumbing to weakening restraint. In this he was helped by the voice of an uninvolved observer, whose grin suggested that Dan's uninvolvement did not also include impartiality. "There you go, Scout. Do that dog thing of yours..."

Carlos didn't have to ask what that_meant_. His knot slapped wetly when he tried to force it in. Wasn't proving easy -- Sandra was still all kinds of tense and the thick bulb had gotten big. He had to, though. Nature demanded it. Nature demanded that when you were fucking a bitch, you tied the bitch. That was the point.

"Give her some pups, Scout," Dan clarified. "Some nice_mutt_ litter..."

In Sandra's brain, this reminder met her fading peak halfway, and was joined immediately by the feeling of the coyote's length shoving firmly, grinding his knot pointedly inwards. The urgency was plain. "Hey -- no-no-no. Hey -- Scout -- fuck --"

With only half her wits about her and the rest picking themselves off the floor, her attempt to shove him off her was more instructive than effective. Carlos felt her claws on his shoulders and his only response was a grunt and a deeper thrust as though she'd spurred him.

Her lips bulged wider, nearly at the limits. "No -- please," she begged the lust-crazed canine. "Anything but --" When he didn't seem to respond to words she struggled to free herself. Pushed at him hard. Jerked her hips to try to get up -- right into a deep, all-consuming_lunge_ from the strong, slender dog.

With a squishing_pop_ he plunged forward, his knot stuffed home and the tapered tip of his cock pushed into the short wolf's very womb. She howled in dismay -- he heard her howl -- but all Carlos could feel was her soft, fleshy walls caressing him as his instinctive, jabbing thrusts fought for any bit of friction, coaxing his knot thicker.

So that there wouldn't be any possibility of preventing the inevitable. His lip curled and his big ears wavered.Take care of her, Dan had ordered. The coyote groaned in surrender, letting the hapless wolf's cunt knead release from his aching cock. Pulsing hard, throbbing in that intense pleasure, he pumped his virile cum directly into her, painting her insides in ropes of thick coyote seed.

She was gasping, muzzle open in a reflexive protest that faded with the futility of it and the natural, soothing finality of being bred. He twitched and flexed his hips, stirring his prick through her soaking pussy and sending spasms of delight through him, drawing a few stronger pulses as his overtaxed body focused on the task of emptying his balls into the less than willing wolf.

When his strength waned he put out a paw to keep himself from falling onto her, less because he didn't want to pin her than because he wanted some distance from her muzzle. Sandra was fighting to be angry over the cocktail of hormones mixing in her body from their combined release.

At length, she won. "You fucking_asshole_."

"You wanted it." Carlos felt reasonably sure of this; he didn't have the energy for a lengthy argument. "Needed it..."

Sandra lifted her head, looking down to where he'd disappeared_completely_ inside her. "If you knocked me up with your mongrel fucking pups, I will tear your --"

"Public radio bitch," Dan cut her off. The stoat felt some degree of regret at the situation. Scout was panting, getting his wind back, stuffed between the wolf's thighs like he belonged there. He did; the regret Dan felt was that the stoat himself did not have a knot and would never really appreciate how the whole affair worked. "Calm down."

"You don't know when to stop," she snapped at him. "You don't know_how_ to stop."

"Now, now, now," he chided, and took advantage of her trapped position to walk over and pat her on the nose. "He is_right_, you know? It's what you needed. Act three: 'Some stray finally does what yer limp-dicked boyfriend won't.' It's a good closing."

Again she looked down at her crotch. The wolf's pelt was as stained as the desk beneath it. "Danny, you are_such_ a fucking --"

"You're gonna be like this? Really? You need a cock in your mouth again, slut? Careful, there's only one right answer here."

"Danny --"

"Nope, not that one." He forced her muzzle shut and, while she glared and tried to tear herself free he clicked his tongue in thought. "Scout, who were you out with tonight? Dice or Cutter?"

"Uh, Clint." He didn't know why Danny had given Clint the name 'Cutter,' except that Danny_never_ called anyone by their given name.

Dan himself had long forgotten, and didn't mind. Cutter would more than do, both for a name and for a finale. Dan grinned and, keeping Sandra's muzzle pinned, leaned over so he could shout down the open hall. "Hey. Cutter. Get in here."

Lieutenant Clint Kendrick theoretically outranked Dan and Carlos, but among all of them in the Cannon Shoals-Oak Valley Police Department the older wolf probably gave the fewest number of solid fucks. Somewhere between thirty and fifty, his black fur coat had yet to pick up a single hint of white and it lent him a sort of agelessness.

He looked into the room, and immediately snorted. "Sergeant Ortiz, you having fun there?" The still-knotted coyote gave a shrug; Clint took this to mean that the answer was probably 'yes,' but maybe phrased in the past tense. Anyway it explained the noises he'd been trying to ignore ."What do you want, Hayes?"

"You speak bitch, don'cha?"

"Depends." He saw that their companion, muzzled, was another wolf, and it didn't take much work to tell that_one_ of the three was in heat and neither Carlos nor Dan were likely candidates.

"Decided she wanted a favor outta us," Dan explained. "Figured as long we were here, Scout could help her with her, uh...other problem." Sandra grunted in the stoat's paw, and he gave her a warning squeeze that pressed her muzzle sharply closed. "She disagreed with having him knock her up."

With a sharp jerk, the wolf got her mouth free. "It wasn't a fucking_disagreement_."

"See, so, the_back_ story is her boyfriend won't do it, so she came to us..."

"No!" It was said as a growl -- not that Clint was unfamiliar with how she-wolves could be. "I told him that --"

Dan rapped her nose again. "Started yappin' about Scout after he went an' busted a nut in her like he weren't good enough."

"Called me a mongrel," Carlos added.

Clint was getting the picture. The lieutenant stretched out, cracked his knuckles, and bared his teeth for the other wolf's benefit. "That true, pup?" The sight of his fangs seemed to have reminded her that Clint had eighteen inches on the short girl, and a hundred pounds.

"'S why I asked if you speak bitch, Cutter."

He curled his broad paw up and underneath her muzzle. "Sounds like somebody needs an alpha. What's your name?"

"Sandra Callaway. From the radio station. KCNS. I'm a reporter. You know. The news?"

Keeping her muzzle in his strong, scarred fingers, Clint tried to decide if any of these details were worth remembering. Probably not; not even the implied threat of 'the news': "Didn't like the 'yote, huh?"

For having her jaw secured tightly by a much stronger canine, she had a decent amount of spark. "No," she spat -- saliva, he_thought_, though her muzzle was rather matted.

Clint Kendrick had mostly stayed out of the younger cops' games, and now he was beginning to regret it. The thick scent suffusing the room had already begun to stiffen him to attention. "Bet they'd be_nice_, cute pups. Funny ears..."

"I don't_want_ pups with a fucking coyote."

"See," Dan spoke up, to prevent further insults to his upstanding partner. "But, her boy is this skinny, pathetic --"

"Leave Paul out of this!"

"--Pet she ain't trained all the way yet."

Clint chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, somebody needs an alpha. I'll show ya, Sandy. Carlos, how you doin'? Pull out."

The coyote tested the tie with a firm tug that met resistance that nudged the edge of his comfort level. Judging by the wolf's whine, she felt the same way. "Maybe a few minutes?"

"Don't I outrank you?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Then pull out! Jesus, Dan, ain't it just like this town that we gotta do everything 'round here..."

Carlos gritted his teeth and worked his hips back until with an obscene slurp he managed to get himself free -- long inches of glistening pink coyote meat, followed by a substantial gush of slick seed that dribbled messily down her thighs.

No longer trapped, Sandra made to get up, and Clint narrowed warning eyes, fierce and sharp as her own. "Where are you going?"

"Home. I'm going home."

"Later," the black wolf corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"Later. Did Ortiz fuck you deaf?" That was a problem with coyotes, after all. Awfully loud. Was that who the howl had come from? Have to have a talk with that boy later... "You don't like being knocked up by a coyote, I get it. We'll try a wolf, just in case."

The matter-of-factness left her slightly stunned. "You know, I appreciate you guys' willingness to protect and serve..."

"Think of it as a matching donation, public radio bitch." Dan snickered, and when she curled her lip at him he winked mockingly.

Sandra's glance returned to the black wolf, who had yet to move. She reached up, pressing to no effect at the fingers holding her muzzle snugly. Failing that, she managed to stand -- just. "But you've had your fun. You especially, Danny."

Now that she was standing, Clint took the opportunity to feel up her ass with his other paw. Toned; suitably curvy. He could tell what Dan saw in the bitch, who was strong enough to put up a fight and short enough to make fucking it out of her a good game.

She jerked at the grope, which dug fingers into her formerly pristine white fur. "You're not going to fuck me. I don't even know who you_are_."

"You put up with this, Hayes?" Clint asked.

"I don't. Scout's a soft touch."

What a surprise, Clint scoffed to himself, and returned his attention to the other wolf, who was eyeing the door. "Anyway. You ain't going home without a litter fucked into ya, and if you didn't like the coyote..."

She wrinkled her nose, trying to tug her jaw free. "That's, uh... that's not..."

Clint let her muzzle go so that he could grab her sides with both paws. Before she could take advantage of being released, he spun her to shove the she-wolf roughly against the wall. With her head lolling in shock, he put his nose to hers. "Look, you dumb cunt. I'll use small words. You --"

She kicked him, and although it wound up as a glancing blow he gave up on subtlety. Snarling, the bigger canine knocked her into the wall again, holding her fixed while his fingers tore his belt wide and forced his trousers open. Sandra recovered her wits in time for her observant reporter's mind to discover what a big, proper wolf actually felt like, thick as her wrist and shoved up against her inner thigh.

It put some struggle into her -- she was doing her best to push him off. Her bare foot scrabbled into Clint's thigh, claws raking through the fur. Scrappy or no, though, five feet and change didn't pick a fight with two hundred and fifty pounds of timberwolf, whose paunch belied muscles with decades of practice. "Gonna play nice?"

"Fuck off," she hissed, and snapped for his forearm.

But she would play nice. Clint would see to that. He grabbed her under the jaw, and held tightly until he was sure she couldn't speak. "Here's how you deal with wolf bitches, Ortiz," he grunted.Might as well teach 'em something. It was easy enough to find her pussy -- two stabbing, arching thrusts and his fat tip sank into its mark.

With a lunging snarl he speared into her well-slicked, dripping snatch and immediately watched the choking wolf's eyes darken. Her back arched, pushing her crotch into the dominant male's claiming, powerful, plunging stroke. He lowered his hips and did it again, plowing roughly into her -- could already hear the coyote's seed dripping from her as he forced it back out.

Half a dozen sharp, forceful thrusts and her ears were back. Her whole body trembled and he couldn't fucking blame her -- she was so clinging-snug on his girthy prick he had to have been near the thickest cock she'd ever taken. He rammed into her again, drop-forge hard, and when he felt the wolf's involuntary shudder he bared his fangs. "Yeah,there you go. Bitch knows her place."

Trick with wolves was they had to be_put_ there. As he pounded his stiff red cock into her, pummeling her into the wall, her shuddering grew more erratic. He felt her gasping, swallowing back every word under his fingers at her throat. And he knew when to let go. Relaxed his grip just as he slammed up and into her cunt to stretch her nice and wide -- and she moaned. It was a bubbling, raw, feral sound -- the sound made by a wolf who was running on instinct.

So he didn't need to keep her quiet anymore. Nothing was quiet. His outsized, thick shaft squelched every time he crammed it into her sloppy folds, forcing her to take every veiny inch of alpha wolf. When he tugged it back, grating against her walls it came free with a gush of coyote seed and her own juices and the precum the male's rapid thrusts were slinging hotly into her.

The fierce, carnal rutting thumped the little bitch into the wall in a quick drumbeat bass. Her moans were hoarse grunts now; she squirmed and writhed on the cock buried inside her, grinding into the pivot point where they joined as the black-furred timberwolf fucked the last bits of resistance from her until she locked up in a quavering whine. She seized his prick in a convulsive rhythm: wet spasms that betrayed her primal craving and pleaded for his load.

"There's my little bitch," he soothed her -- voice low, and guttural. Soothed her, and gave her a few seconds as she sucked for breath desperately, and then pumped into her heavily. Two strokes later and she whined again, before a sharp grind to let her feel his massive knot kicked the whine into a lupine howl. "There you go. Good wolf slut gets what she -- deserves," he growled, and shoved his knot against her lips again. "Don't she?"

The prospect of tying with a real wolf animated her enough to find her voice. "Wait -- won't fucking fit -- you -- oh,fuck," she choked it off in a tortured whimper as pleasure racked her soiled frame. He slammed up, feeling her hot lips stretching wide, trapping her between the wall and his straining legs.

With a lunge like a sprung trap he claimed her, staking a definitive claim to the wolf's cunt that she echoed with the ragged, shocked shout of a sated bitch in heat. Clint growled and bucked in short strokes until his knot was wedged so tightly there was not a fucking_prayer_ it would let go before she was good and bred, and he could feel that coming quick.

A few steady thrusts, pressing her further and further up the wall even as she yipped and her stretched snatch clasped and milked him. The black wolf rocked back and forth to work his cock in further, prodding the fat taper of its pulsing tip so deep she could feel every twitch.

As his peak rose in his tightening loins and his clenching sack drew up warningly he gritted his teeth and crushed his nose against Sandra's. She tore away from the sensation and he jerked her back with the rough grip of his paw. "No -- look. My eyes."

She whimpered, trembling, and he thrust hard -- erratic despite the strength of his bulging muscles. "Wh-what?"

"You're_mine_," he growled, and followed with another buck. "Whose are you?"

"I..." Sandra wailed helplessly as he plowed into her, hammering her hips into the wall. She was trying not to meet his gaze. Failing. Their yellow eyes locked. "Y-yours."

"Say it."

"Yours," she gasped. "I'm yours."

"And you want my pups, don't you?" He wasn't really asking.

And her body could only manage a broken whisper to suggest it had been a question in the first place. "I --"

"Don't you?"

Her answer, forced from her lips by the power of his sharp, firm thrust, came as a quailing sob: "Yes!"

"Then you_look_ at me when I fuck my load into you, bitch," Clint snarled, slamming home one last time. "You take it like a good fucking whore, and you fucking -- mmf!" He lost the last word in a sharply feral groan. His big orbs clenched and by the time the first wave of pleasure jerked through him he was already spilling thick ropes of wolf cum into his conquest.

She didn't look away. Her eyes flickered as the steamy, gooey spurts flooded her, and she momentarily went unfocused but she held his narrowed, dominant glare as the black wolf bred her -- until her eyes rolled back and Clint felt her arch, clinging every way she could around him -- her paws digging in, her thighs enveloping him...

Her slick folds pulsing and tightening on his thick knot to remind them both of its bulk as he throbbed and drained himself into her, pumping her fertile womb full of his musky load.

Even when she let go and he had to catch her, the last few spurts were working into her, and she caught the less than subtle twitching with a wavering sigh.

"I..."

"Got what you wanted. Don't even fucking try to deny it."

Her shoulders sagged. "I just..."

"No fucking 'just,' cunt." Clint rumbled a warning -- that had seemed awfully close to denial. "You figure out a way to deal."

"What about my ticket?"

Dan Hayes, who was sharing with Carlos a look of awe at the pair of wolves, could only chuckle. "Fuck, yeah, whatever. It's gone. Wasn't much anyway. Just an excuse for you."

"Well. For you." She didn't try to deny that part. "But not the... not the rest..."

"Yeah, right. That was just_convenient_," he said, mockingly. Her problem was that she got herself into trouble without a clear way out. In over her head -- the stoat didn't even want to know what kind of mess the two had made of the wolf's pussy. He had a newfound respect for Cutter's stamina.

"If I didn't load ya up with pups, Ortiz sure as fuck did. 'Yote may be skinny but he's copious as all fuckin' hell."

"Good'un, Scout." Dan had to admit that the night had worked out far better than he'd planned. "The two dogs get tote bags_and_ mugs for their generous contributions, right, public radio bitch?"

"Go to hell," she muttered. "Or if you're going to stay here, shut up."

What had Paul said?Leave her alone? He sort of had -- for once. Cutter and Scout had been the real stars. "You poor thing. All worn out -- pretty obvious how that happened, too. How you gonna explain that to yer boyfriend? Or are ya gonna wait nine months?"

Sandra froze, curved ears swiveled and splayed. Her jeans were nicked; her shirt was torn from where the other wolf had grabbed her too roughly. Her soft white fur was plastered, and even Dan could smell the thick musk of the three men on her -- to say nothing of what another canine could detect.

"Awful hard to hide that one, huh, slut? What'd you say, ah..." He trailed off with a leer of a grin. "You wanted to 'be more honest'? Who with?" She could, after all, have started with herself. Could've admitted that in spite of the act she put on, she was just another bitch who needed to be put in her place.

"Shut_up_. God, you're such a fucking asshole." Her heart wasn't in it, though -- she knew he was right. Soiled as she was, Sandra could hardly deny it. All she could manage was a vague attempt at damage control: "Clint, do you have, like... a shower?"

Dan barked his laugh, before Kendrick could answer. "Oh, sure. Yeah. You'll clean_right_ up."