A Cop's Rough Time
Officer Blakeley hates crime in his city. He thinks it's about time to do something about the lowlives stalking his streets.
A COP'S ROUGH TIME
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The police cruiser crawled the curb at a slow speed. The nighttime city was quiet, with the bars still open and full of revelers for the Friday night. The black wolf cop behind the wheel of his road warrior car scowled through his windshield while he rolled slowly along Parker Lane. His eyes scanned the sidewalk in the hopes of catching someone doing something they shouldn't. He paid particular attention to the entrances into the nearby alleyways between the houses of the quiet town center, knowing that they were a prime place for all sorts of illicit activity ranging from public urination to puking up excessive beer and soliciting prostitutes.
It was quiet. In Officer Blakeley's mind that was a terrible thing. Not only it made him feel dead bored, he also knew that any such lull was a misleading lie. A glitch in the matrix, he thought while scowling through his windshield.
"Grrrr."
He wasn't about to let himself become lax. Officer Blakeley took his job seriously and he wasn't about to gain a reputation as a sloppy cop.
"Ghhhhrrr..."
The squeak of his radio was a welcome distraction and a reminder that evil forces still lurked under the deceptive stillness of the dark city.
"Dispatch to all units in central area," the dispatch voice announced in her calm drawl, "we've got a reported public disturbance at the Deboral Field Mall. One suspect on site."
Blakeley didn't even have to look at the GPS screen on his dash that was kept always on and tracking his current location. He knew where the Mall was located and that he was only about five minutes away.
Officer Blakeley tapped the tangent down.
"This is Unit 106, I'm in the vicinity and will check out," he said into the radio receiver snapped onto his uniform collar.
"Roger that, Unit 106," the dispatcher replied.
Blakeley accelerated the car. He didn't turn on the lights or the siren. There was no need to create further ruckus at this point.
"Any other info on this disturbance, dispatch?"
"Acknowledged, 106. Suspect apparently kicking at parked cars and trashcans, making noise and possibly causing damage."
Blakeley growled to himself, without pressing the tangent so that the officer at the police dispatch center wouldn't hear his rather visceral response to reports of such behavior.
"Roger that. Will check it out. ETA four minutes."
"Roger that, 106."
The wolf took his fingers off his radio and gripped the wheel with both paws. He took a left turn from the next intersection.
*
Blakeley's time estimate was true to fact, once he glanced at the dash clock upon him swinging the wheel to take his car ove to the parking lot of the Deborah Field Mall. It wasn't much of a shopping mall as much as a big outlet retail park selling discount furniture and construction supplies out of several large warehouses. It sounded like a strange place to hang out in the middle of the night, especially since the place was not known to be frequented by low-lifes in general. There just wasn't all that much to break nor did the drug dealers usually service their clients there.
Blakeley kept his eyes and ears carefully open when he slowed the car down to a crawl. The initial information on the case was vague enough that he knew to be ready for anything. He drove slowly through the deserted parking lot that was only lit by the occasional lamp and the few lights that were on on the warehouses to deter anyone wanting to go lurking in the dark. Covert or not, he wasn't sure if he had been noticed by anyone who might still be causing mayhem around there.
He didn't see all that much mayhem either.
"Dispatch, Unit 106 is on location and investigating," Blakeley spoke into his radio.
"Roger, 106."
"Over and out."
The black wolf cop's car lights flashed against the rolling metal door of Hank's Sofa Palace while he made another turn so that he could crawl along the fronts of the warehouses. He knew that the car was noisy enough in the deserted parking lot that anyone nearby would probably hear it coming, but the cop was partially counting on that. He wanted whoever was lurking here to be scared off their tails and to try to make a run for it.
In his experience, they never got away.
Almost a minute passed during the cop's inspection of the premises. He didn't see anyone, let alone signs of the alleged disturbance and vandalism. Blakeley was starting to feel like someone had been just keen on pulling on the cops' tail with a fake call.
He was about to growl in frustration when he eyes picked up the sight of a plastic trashcan on its side near a small steel door into Foxy-Fixer's, a discount lumber warehouse. His keen eyes noted immediately that not only the trashcan had been turned over so that its contents had spilled onto the black tarmac, but the unknown culprit had also jumped on it or kicked it hard so that the plastic had been cracked under the weight of the assailant. That made the wolf grumble. He hated nothing more than child rapists and people who broke public property just for the hell of it.
Little fucking shits.
His wolf-sense was also tingling, in a manner of speaking, causing his tail to spike up and a rumble to start in his chest thinking about it. At least this meant that the call was not a prank. Someone had been about and was still possibly in the area, doing their stupid business.
Blakeley stopped the car, secured the engine, and stepped out. He drew a long gulp of the night air through his nostrils to pick up on any scent leads, while his tall ears perked and listened.
THONG!
The noise came from behind the building, and it echoed between the two tall corrugated steel walls. His ears perked aggressively upon hearing the sound.
THONG!
It sounded almost like a gong, from some distance.
Blakeley ducked into the alley between the houses and moved almost silently, yet quickly. One of his paws landed onto the hilt of his telescopic nightstick while the other one opened a Velcro fastener to take out a small high-powered flashlight from a holster on his belt, next to the cuffs. He palmed the aluminum tube that felt warm after having rested on his thigh for most of the shift he'd spent driving around town. His fingerpad sought the rubbery power switch and he held onto the light much like he'd hold onto a weapon.
THONG!
His ears flattened briefly at the noise. It was definitely coming from nearby now.
THONG!
Now the metallic sound was followed by a hint of ragged snickering. Whoever this was, the fur was enjoying what he was doing. That made the wolf's tail bristle even further.
Motherfucker!
Blakeley swept close to the wall and crab-walked towards the corner of the building, behind which he expected the source of the disturbance to come from. His heart was beating somewhat harder than before, but his paws were steady and his nerves were calm. He wasn't about to get jumpy and scared in this kind of a situation. The black wolf thought he knew what he was doing. He'd done this same thing many times before.
THOMMMMMMM!
Another snorting, quite nasal snicker trickled into his ears. It threatened to flare Blakeley's temper. Whoever it was, that someone didn't seem too concerned about being interrupted.
He reached the corner, and held his breath while he took a peek at his possible suspect.
THONG!
A light shone over a door marked with a green EXIT sign and which served as a back entrance into the building. The light was enough to cast a proper glow over a large steel dumpster located near the concrete step up to the door. The suspect must've chosen the place for the sake that he could properly see what he was doing there.
THONG!
The guy was a cheetah, black in fur so that his mottles were not particularly visible. He wore a black hoodie, urban camo pants in various shades of black, white and gray, and some sort of heavy, possibly reinforced leather boots that made it easy for him to slam a kick after kick against the side of the dumpster. Even on the quick glance, Blakeley could see the many dents the cheetah's behavior had already caused. There was almost no question that the same guy had done the damage over at the front as well.
THONNNNG!
The cheetah delivered another hearty kick onto the dumpster that was acting as his makeshift percussion instrument.
Blakeley decided to use the reverberations to mask his own approach. He didn't leap out, did not yell "FREEZE" or did any other overt gestures while he went in for the capture of this punk. Instead, he simply slipped out of the darkness, lamp and baton at ready. The telescopic stick slid open with a flick of his wrist and was held close to his side while he made his approach to the cheetah.
"Put your paws behind your head and get down on your knees!" Officer Blakeley barked out as he switched on his light.
The sound of his voice was electrifying for the black cheetah. His eyes were bright blue and seemed to flash when his head jerked towards the sudden bright light shining to him. His tail was tense and snapped sharply between his legs upon being obviously caught in the act. Blakeley watched him carefully for signs of attempting to run. This kid was probably stupid enough that he might try.
"Yeeeeahshithead?" the cheetah slurred.
Fuck.
Blakeley could tell that the cheetah had been drinking even before he smelled the booze in the air they shared now. Not overtly much, though, judging by the fact the guy was still rather ambulatory.
"You heard me the first time!" the black wolf growled. "Paws up so that I can see them, and on your knees!"
The cheetah shrugged.
"I haven't done anything, uh, shithead, no" the cheetah rumbled.
Blakeley gave his nightstick a threatening shake.
"If you don't cooperate, I'm going to have to use force to detain you!" Blakeley yelled. "You got that?"
That was still all by the book.
"Like what kind of...force?" the cheetah yelped. "I know my rights!"
You've no rights you fucking punk!
"You've been caught now," Blakeley said, "It's best for you if you take it easy and don't make any bigger a mess of yourself than you already have done. That's your best bet."
The cheetah's tail swung about aggressively. Blakeley was starting to feel that the cat was not going to give up so easily.
"Well I just...you know..." the cheetah stated.
Blakeley pointed the light more directly at the cheetah's eyes. He hoped that would intimidate and possibly disorient the feline while he approached with the intention of further calming the cheetah down.
The cat's next move was somewhat unexpected, but nothing the black wolf hadn't dealt with before. The bright light made it easier for the cop to notice a flash in the cheetah's paw.
The next events unfolded within seconds. The cheetah's paw moved and so did the black wolf's, while his body slung to the side to avoid the moving paw and the police officer's other paw rapidly moving up to swing the nightstick. It made contact with the cheetah's arm with such force that the sheer shock caused his paw to go slack and the blade clattered down to the hard tarmac below.
"OWH!"
The cheetah let out a shrill yell from the shock and the pain of being hit with the nightstick. The sensation was momentarily paralyzing, enough that the wolf could elbow the cat's back and send him sprawling onto the ground.
The light became erratic. The wolf's flashlight fell and rolled away, leaving them in the dim lighting provided by the lamp on the wall.
It was not much of a fight, entirely one-sided with the shellshocked feline and the very cross black wolf whom slammed down on top of him and pressed his knee against the small of the struggling and squirming cheetah's back.
"You just did your last mistake," spittle flowed from between Officer Blakeley's teeth while he grappled onto the cheetah's paws.
"Uhhhhpfffuuuk..."
Blakeley took out his cuffs and wasted no time in snapping them around the cat's wrists. He tugged on them to make sure that the cheetah's paws were well secured. The cat was still wriggling a little, but the weight of a big black and very angry wolf on top of him appeared to discourage him.
"Assault of a police officer with a deadly weapon," Blakeley huffed,"malicious intent. Disorderly conduct. Public drunkenness. Resisting arrest..."
He black wolf growled and spat a heavy glob of angry spit between his teeth. It splattered to the ground nearby.
"You're coming with me you fucking shit," the wolf couldn't keep the profanity away anymore. Now he was letting everything to come out while he himself stood up and then tugged on the cheetah's cuffed arm.
Blakeley manhandled the cat up to somewhat limp feet, holding him under his arms. He gave the young male a shake when it appeared that the cheetah was trying to resist by letting himself go slack.
"Don't even think about it," he grunted close to one ear of the lopsided hoodie-wearing cheetah.
"Hmmpphh...I dunn nothing wrong..." the cat slurred.
The smell of liquor was harsh, this close to the wolf's sensitive nose. It made him snort with such force that it ruffled the exposed furs on the cat's neck. The kind of drink he enjoyed had a much more refined aroma to it. The cheetah reeked to him, and it only made the black wolf even more pissed off.
He only stopped to pick up his torch and the cheetah's knife and pocketing them before he hauled the muttering cheetah into the dark crevice between the buildings. Blakeley made sure to hold onto the cat's arm extra firm while there so that the feline didn't get any ideas by the relatively secluded location.
"Don't run," he growled. "Nobody has ever gotten really far."
"Just tryin' to chill u'know..." the cheetah rumbled. He seemed to be mostly speaking to himself now while he was being led through the tunnel of the alleyway.
"Shut the fuck up," Blakeley muttered.
"I wanna hear my rights..." the cheetah slurred, "they're my r-rights..."
"You kissed them goodbye a long ago," Blakeley growled.
They emerged from between the buildings and onto the parking lot. Blakeley hauled the cheetah over to his cruiser and pushed him to the backseat.
"And don't you dare to puke, vomit, or piss in there!" he growled before slamming the door shut.
An annoyed cheetah looked at the wolf through the side window.
The black wolf stepped away from the car and keyed his tangent.
"Unit 106 to Dispatch, come in."
"Dispatch here, go ahead."
"I've investigated Deborah Field Mall and found no signs of miscreant," Blakeley stated into the receiver," some dumpster's been broken but there's nobody here, so I'll try to get a hold of the local maintenance crew so that they can clean it up."
"Roger that, Unit 106."
"Heading out now. Over and out."
"Roger, 106."
Blakeley released the tangent and glanced at the cat brooding on the backseat of his police cruiser.
He almost smiled.
*
They'd been driving for a few minutes. The cat had been quiet, on the back seat, cuffed as he was. Blakeley kept his eyes sternly onto the street rolling ahead of him.
"Are we going to the central station?" the cheetah suddenly said.
The black wolf's ears swiveled at the rather sudden words.
"Naw," he muttered.
The cheetah appeared to be looking out of the window.
"We're not going to the central station...I can tell..." the cat stated.
Must know the way well, then, Blakeley thought. Figures.
"I already told you we're not," the cop grunted.
He could hear the cheetah shuffle on the back seat. Blakeley hoped that wasn't a sign that he was planning to expel some bodily fluid onto the car seats.
He took a right turn. The buildings became more sparse and industrial, rather than those at the city center. It grew darker, too, with the lights further apart.
Blakeley knew where he was going. He'd been to the place a few weeks earlier while investigating some spray painting teenagers and their tagging habit. He held a good memory of the place and hence this knowledge guided him over there. He knew there was a gate that didn't lock properly, and that the owners weren't too keen on fixing it either. He knew how to drive the car through the deserted industrial site not too unlike to the one where he'd caught the cheetah from, although the parking lots were smaller. These warehouses weren't for discount shopping but rather in use by the local businesses. The one he drove over to was a recently emptied one that'd been used for storing paint. The letters had been torn off the wall but the patches of glue and weathered marks they had left behind still spelled "PETERSEN'S PAINT" across the old rolling steel door.
"What the fuck is this place?" the cheetah stared through the window at their odd locale.
"Hmmph," the black wolf muttered.
"Is this like the jail?" the cheetah asked.
The wolf stepped out of the car. He knew that the door wasn't really locked, and that the chain keeping it closed was not a real obstacle. The door creaked violently when he pushed on it, but he had the muscles to work the old mechanism so that the door slowly rolled along.
He only opened it enough that he could drive the car in, then to step out, and the pull the door shut again. He didn't want anyone to see the car, neither the light that its headlamps shone inside the deserted warehouse. It was relatively large, which meant the wolf's steps echoed somewhat when he pranced around the car. The slam of the car door sounded especially loud, as was the cheetah's snort when he half-climbed, and was half-flung out into the air that smelled strongly of chemicals and paint thinner that lingered on despite the place being cleaned out to nothing but an empty hall with a concrete floor. It had the occasional telltale sign where something must've spilled to a degree that it couldn't have been scrubbed clean.
"Where are we?" the cheetah asked. His earlier cockiness had suffered a setback, the wolf decided while looking at him. The cheetah looked about the hall that was only vaguely lit by the car lights. They reflected off the rear wall many yards away, and only provided a hint of light where they stood now by the car, near the front door of the warehouse.
Blakeley stood by the driver's door and looked at the cheetah. Now he was openly smiling so that the cat saw too many teeth for comfort. The cop's earlier sternness wasn't quite there anymore, the cheetah thought while he wriggled his wrists and tried to get blood flowing into his paws again. The cuffs felt too tight, and he wanted to say as much, but the wolf's expression made him hold his tongue.
"Hey!" the cheetah yelped. The noise echoed off the walls harshly. "Why aren't you talking to me?"
Blakeley chortled. Now the black wolf folded his beefy arms together over his chest and stared the cheetah down.
"I know your type," the wolf practically barked at the cheetah, "I know exactly what you are."
The cheetah looked at him with a mixture of contempt and concern. The black wolf was starting to look like he might be some sort of a psycho, and it was making the cheetah bristle visibly.
"Whut?" the cat said, nonetheless.
The wolf spat to the ground.
"I know your lot," he huffed, "little puny piece of shit who thinks he can get away with anything. A good-nothing who just fucks around and wastes his whole life on doing shit nothing!"
The cheetah's eyes widened, listening to this odd tirade from the angry wolf. He had obviously not expected it. Or maybe he had heard it all so many times before that he simply wouldn't bat an eyelid upon being told that he was a waste of breathing air.
"Why aren't we at the police station?" the cheetah made the obvious question again. "What's this place?"
He glanced around again at the decisively non-precinct like space around them.
Blakeley dropped his paws to his sides and flexed them. He wore black leather gloves that were reinforced with Kevlar for situations exactly like the one he had encountered earlier, with the cheetah pulling out a knife. Officer Blakeley knew colleagues who had stopped stabs with them at the cost of bruising to their paws rather than deep cuts.
The cheetah looked at the wolf's curling fingers. He could see the familiar arrangement of weapons on the cop's belt - nightstick, TASER and sidearm, all within the wolf's easy reach. The movement of the cop's paws was aggressive and suggested violence for the cheetah, even in his inebriated situation.
"This place is where your piece of shit life is gonna end," the wolf finally filled the heavy silence with his words.
The cheetah moved as soon as he heard the words. He turned in a flash of his tail and tried to leg it.
He might've as well not even tried. The wolf lurched forward and tackled the cheetah hard onto the concrete floor. The cheetah yowled when he was bruised by his crash down to the floor, with the heavy wolf landing his full weight on him.
"Fucking piece of shit!"
The wolf grabbed the cheetah's neck and yanked on his scruff there. The cat cursed and hissed.
"Little CUNT!"
The wolf growled and then spat an immense glob of saliva onto the cheetah's muzzle. The cat let out a surprised yelp on the hot, nasty sensation.
"FUCK!"
"Pathetic shit - "
The wolf pressed the cheetah's head down to the floor. The cat squirmed and tried to kick at the wolf with his feet that were free to move unlike his paws that were still secured behind his back. He tried to claw at the cop on top of him despite this.
Blakeley pressed down on him. He panted hotly against the cheetah's pinned muzzle, crouched very close onto the punk he had captured.
"Say goodbye to this fucking life."
He slammed his uniformed arm to the floor and then used his other arm to take the cheetah into a headlock. His chest pressed to the cat's neck and forced his muzzle down into the pit of his arm. The cheetah yelled into this new clothed prison and panted hotly, breathing erratically while he struggled with the sensation of being suffocated.
Blakeley felt the struggling, and grinned roughly. He imagined that the cheetah thought that he was trying to choke him, judging by the frantic attempts to draw breaths. That was not his intention by any means. The pinning pose only immobilized the cheetah while not impeding his ability to breathe.
In fact it was exactly what the wolf wanted - for the cheetah to breathe as much as he could, and as deep as he could. He knew that the punk cat's muzzle was lodged into the very hot, dank pit of his arm, full of the deep musk that the wolf's body produced quite naturally. His current agitated, angry state had only caused it to become even more potent, and every breath the cheetah drew filled his nose and maw with the black wolf's dank scent.
The rapid breathing heated the wolf's entire arm. It felt damp and warm, a contrast to the coldness of the concrete under his elbow and paw. It made his arm itch.
"LEMMEGHO!" the cheetah muttered still.
The wolf chortled.
"Sounds like you need some more..." the black wolf growled.
He kept the punk pinned down to the floor, between his body and his armpit producing the musk. The cat was struggling against him, obviously aware that he was terribly underhanded compared to the big wolf on top of him. The sleek male stood no chance against the two hundred and then some pounds of big wolf on him.
His breathing began to grow more shallow.
Blakeley noticed this change as well. He shifted a little to check up on the cheetah, whose struggling had all but ceased.
"Ye, right..."
The black wolf rolled the cheetah onto his back. The light was low and mostly reflected, so he couldn't see the exact state of the cat's eyes, but he imagined them to be somewhat glazed over. His muzzle fell slightly open now that he was manipulated onto his back. The positioning was somewhat awkward, with his cuffed paws on the small of his back.
Blakeley shifted himself so that he crouched over the cheetah with his knees on either side of his hips. His size allowed him to do it without feeling like his pants were going to tear at the seams.
The cheetah blinked in confusion while he looked up at the wolf whom now loomed over him.
"Bitch."
Blakeley spat onto the cheetah again. The cat snorted.
"Puny fuck!" the wolf grunted, because he could.
He was working himself up into a kind of a frenzy. The domination of the cheetah was affecting him as well, seeing how the cat was slowly falling under his influence. He could smell it, of course. Bitches always smelled a particular way, and the cheetah made no exception.
"Heh."
His equipment clattered on his utility belt when he moved his paws. The buckle came off and so did the zipper, manipulated with easy fingers, despite being gloved. His equipment flopped onto his hips with the traction removed from the front.
"Now you're gonna smell what a real man is like, you goddamn pussy," the black wolf hissed.
It was somewhat awkward, but Blakeley yanked his junk out of the steel gray underwear he wore with his uniform. His cock was fully out of its sheath, swollen and very hard when it swept out into the still air inside the abandoned warehouse. His knot was relatively huge on the base where it had popped past the fuzzy fold of his musky sheath. His balls manage to escape from the wolf's underwear as well and hung heavily in their furry nest.
The wolf smirked proudly upon feeling the freedom of his impressive tool.
"Bet you can't even appreciate it...yet..."
He grabbed the cheetah by his neck scruff again and forced his muzzle up directly onto his balls. The chortling cheetah's nosepad landed right underneath the nuts that landed onto the bridge of his muzzle. He was in essence forced to breathe the wolf's musk from the rankest place of his body, under his balls and right beyond his furrowed asshole. It was the place where he sweated the most, hide from view during the day and where his essence gathered, all day, trying to escape from his body.
The cheetah's tail jerked against the concrete floor. His hot breaths made Blakeley's asshole clench when they happened to flow into his taint. His own tail swept back and forth like a brush.
"You smell that up and keep calm..." the black wolf grumbled pleasurably, in full control of the situation. "Find some use for your pathetic self..."
Blakeley's cock pulsed with the power he felt over the cheetah now causing blood to surge into all of his erogenous zones. The cheetah's presence made his balls itch. They rested obscenely over the cat's face as a suitable ornament to mark him as subservient to the stinking wolf hovering on him. His paw kept the cheetah's muzzle right in position where the wolf wanted him to be.
The cop growled deeply. He might've been angry at the good-nothing of a cat, but the knowledge of what he was about to do pleased him. He planned for this cheetah to be useful for him, in more ways than one, although something in particular was foremost in his mind now.
"Grrrrrr..."
The cheetah purred quietly. When Blakeley yanked him back to look at him, he could see that the cat appeared to be out of it. Whatever had happened to him while breathing the black wolf's musk, he had mellowed and had no more fight left in him for the moment.
"Now you're gonna pay for those stupid dumpsters," Blakeley announced.
The cheetah blinked, but said nothing. He was promptly tossed onto his belly by the wolf after Blakeley shuffled about to make room for such a move.
" - for being a little shit - "
The black wolf's paws grappled on the cheetah's waistline. For a brief moment he considered taking out of the cat's confiscated knife and use it, but then the cloth gave away to his tugging with a noise of tearing, and the wolf could tug the camo pants down. The underwear was some flimsy fabric, of color he couldn't determine in the dark. The cloth tore easy when he pulled on it, splitting on seams so that it came off and the tatters joined the pants that had now been scuffed by the cheetah's harsh treatment. His tail was draped over his rear but the wolf wasted no time in throwing the somewhat limp organ to the side.
"SLAP!"
His paw came down and pounced onto the cheetah's rump. The noise was surprisingly sharp under the acoustics provided by the warehouse. Blakeley was tempted to tan the cat's hide some more, just out of spite. The smell of the cheetah's growing submission to him made him bypass that plan. The wolf wanted to do something else, to solidify the cat's desperation.
"...this is what happens - "
Blakeley spat onto his paw and then slobbered his big, dirty tongue to his palm to try and produce as much saliva as he could. He knew it was going to be rough with his size and with his spit and pre-cum as the only lubricants available.
He spat some more and wiped the frothy mess upon his straining tool. It was enough to leave his wolfy cock dripping, although considering the size of his dick and the size of the hole he knew was hidden between the cheetah's burning buns, no amount of drool was going to be enough.
The wolf mounted the cheetah. His cock, jutting hard from his groin, thrust onto the crevice of the black cat's ass with an obscene, wet noise. The cheetah let out a confused huff at the sensation, but did not move to try and escapee from under the wolf whose weight now pressed down to him.
The cat was sprawled on the cold concrete floor, but on top of him was the hot, horny, huffing wolf who gripped onto his shoulders.
"You ain't forgetting this any time soon, bitch..."
Blakeley spat onto the cheetah again. It was a simple way to mark the cat, with the wolf's saliva oozing onto the messy furs.
The pressure on his rear increased exponentially. The wolf gripped onto the cheetah's slim body firmly, with knees and arms together to ensure there was not going to be any unwanted movement.
"Grrr..."
He bit on the cheetah's neck scrub, possessively, dominantly, to leave his mark while his hips slammed forward.
Blakeley was sure the cheetah's eyes flew open when the huge cock jammed against his hole properly. The foreign invasion was harsh and slick and made his entire body tremble. In his musked up daze the cheetah offered no resistance, even if his nethers attempted to do so. It amounted to nothing more than a token nuisance for the wolf who was intent on claiming the cheetah as his personal bitch and cock warmer.
The cheetah's insides were warm, and exquisitely tight, with the wolf's swollen cock piercing into him. He let out a yowl, mellowed by the musk, and it became a loud open-mouthed pant when the cock burrowed its way deeper through the cheetah's reluctant tunnel.
"Hohhhohoohohohhooo.."
The wolf drooled excessively onto the cheetah's neck. He knew its effect was not quite as strong as his musk, but would still be enough to contribute.
"Owwwhhh..."
The cheetah's desperate moans were amusing, but the wolf wanted him to submit even more. He forced the cat's muzzle back into the crook of his arm while he claimed the cat's body with jerks from his hips to drive his shaft deep into the cheetah's possibly virginal anus.
"MHP!"
Muffled again, the cheetah's muzzle swam in the dirty musk of the wolf's pit. The pheromones in this dank manly aroma affected the cat's brain in ways that he was not accustomed to. It seemed to dull the discomfort of the over-sized penetration, and make him more suspect to the wolf's dominant actions.
Breathe in that musk, pup, Blakeley's dark mind thought while he continued to force himself deeper into the cheetah's rear.
The cat took a particularly huff, almost as if he could read the wolf's mind. In Blakeley's opinion, I could've also been the cheetah realizing that a huge knot was kissing up to his terribly stretched asshole. The wolf's terrifying prong twitched and oozed inside his ass while the lupine got settled into his conquest, leaking and torturing the cat's rump. Blakeley knew that the cheetah was going to feel like his insides had been rearranged by a caterpillar by the time he was done with the punk .
Time to show this little shit what it means to submit.
Blakeley bred the hole with deep, humping motions that drove his thick cock into the moaning cheetah's ass. The cat's muzzle was kept in close contact with his musky pit to ensure that the cat's level of submission was not going to be falling any time soon. Fucking the whelp's ass was only an extra pleasure for the wolf whose head swam with the victorious knowledge of dominating the punk of a cheetah. The wolf thought he deserved everything that was being dished out on him, and he wasn't about to hold anything back.
He didn't care that the knees of his pants were becoming scuffed on the concrete, or the inevitable stains. He knew that he was going to reek almost as badly as the cheetah once he was done playing with his new toy. He could change and sanitize before he would have to return to the civilization.
The cheetah was probably going to be beyond repair, the wolf thought darkly. He was going to have to suffer through this and then pay the consequences of having crossed paths with one officer Blakeley.
Heh.
The wolf pumped his cock into the cheetah's hole. It had not loose any of its tightness during their brief grapple on the floor. The cop enjoyed every moment of ravaging the punk's ass for his own pleasure. It was barely about the sex for him ,either way. He simply reveled in the power he felt while he owned the cheetah's black, bruised ass.
Let's see what kind of a musk slut you are.
He was getting more and more worked up by the cheetah's submission, and the sensations coursing through his body. Blakeley knew that he was not going to find the session entirely satisfying if he didn't get his knot shoved into the cheetah's ass. The cat was probably going to be regretting ever meeting the wolf by the time he managed that...but the wolf didn't care.
Right now he only had mind for filling the cheetah's ass with his own stinking cum. He wanted to knock up the cheetah and give the cat a lasting reminder of his submission to the big bad wolf.
He pushed.
And pushed.
Body parts never designed to do so stretched to the point of utter fullness and then discomfort. The wolf held onto the drowsy cheetah and gave the few gut-punching thrusts that were needed to get him where he wanted.
He felt absolutely no pity for the yowling cheetah whose ass was now beyond full. A few haggard thrusts later it became even worse, when the wolf's balls began to expend what was hiding in them and the messy cum pumped inside the cheetah's inexperienced rear. By the time he was finished some of it had forced itself even through the very tight ring of the cat's asshole and dribbled both onto his taint and the wolf's balls.
They caught their breaths in relative silence. Even Blakeley didn't have further profanities to fire at the cat underneath him. He just waited for his knot to reduce itself to a size that made removing it a less painful and a much less messy affair, thinking mostly of himself.
He had a work to do.
The cheetah did not appear to be thinking of anything, really, almost dozing even on the uncomfortable cold, damp concrete under his body.
Blakeley decided to give him a memorable wakeup call that consisted of his own turgid dick, his knot, and the cheetah's one tight asshole.
"Heh."
"HhmmUUUPHH!"
The reaction was visceral, and made the cheetah scratch on the concrete floor when his asshole was pulled inside out briefly. An extremely rude splurt sounded from his rear and was followed by a very wet fart of wolf cum leaking out of his gaping hole. The wolf smelled it, and grinned, knowing the cheetah would not walk right for a week.
He stood up and left the cheetah sprawled on his face on the hard floor. The cat was a sorry sight with his partially torn pants and the messy hoodie that had seen better days before the wolf had gotten his paws on it.
Blakeley still wasn't satisfied.
"Now I'm gonna make sure you'll remember who owns you now, bitch."
His cock was slick and still very much hard, yet he grabbed it nonetheless and aimed. The erect state made it difficult to relax himself enough, but eventually the first steaming hot streak landed onto the broken cheetah.
"Hmph..." the cheetah moaned weakly at the sensation of the wolf's piss splashing onto him.
The dam was broken, and the grinning wolf's piss flowed more freely. It matted on the cheetah's furs and caused his clothes to stick onto the cat's body. He reeked of the wolf within moments of the cop marking his bitch.
"Dirty little shit," the wolf declared, even while he aimed his piss to slosh onto the cheetah's ass that was overflowing with his cum already, and with his stinky urine as well. Whatever wasn't absorbed by his clothing and his fur started to form a smelly puddle onto the floor underneath him.
Afterwards, Blakeley shook his dick as if he had simply taken a piss at a bathroom, and pushed his messy cock into his pants.
"Now that introductions are over...there are some things we have to talk about, bitch," the black wolf growled to the thing on the floor at his feet.
*
_ A WEEK LATER _
Officer Blakeley was cruising down the Main Street on a night that was very much like every night he spent out in patrol. The party-goers were still shuttered in the drinking establishments, the traffic was light, and things were still going relatively calmly. The black wolf expected things to heat up later on, but for now, he was keeping the peace with his sheer presence, crawling along the curb.
His attention was caught by the vibration of a small mobile phone in one of his uniform pockets. It was not his habit to carry a personal phone on him while out on duty, but this phone was a particular one. It was very small and had a prepaid card on it, meaning it was difficult to track it and any traffic that might come into it.
The wolf parked the car in front of a hamburger joint and left the indicators on to signal to anyone coming down the street that he intended to leave soon. He only needed to stop for long enough to take out the phone from his pocket. He didn't have to wonder from where the text message displays on the screen might have come from, since there was exactly one contact in this particular phone and the number belonged to another pre-paid phone card loaded into another little cheap phone.
The message was short and mangled.
_ tht drug dealin Guy Truth _
_ is about to be on tht place _
_ 45 Mandarin at midnit _
Blakeley's muzzle split into a strong grin while he used his thumb to tap out a response.
_ Keep pretending you're buying. _
_ Gonna arrest the lot of you. _
He pocketed his phone again and looked at the rear view mirror to make sure he wasn't about to back the car onto someone's way. He could see his persistent smile on his face. The black wolf chortled. He was grinning like a fool, but he didn't mind.
His very new personal lowlife informant was about to help him trap another son of a bitch off the streets.
Blakeley revved up the engine.
*
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