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Saturdays usually brought around the same crowds, every last patron boisterous and loud. The tone of the atmosphere had been set by the bar hired DJ, a thin raccoon that was particularly good at mixing songs on the fly. He stayed atop the massive pedestal at the front of the dance floor, of which was packed with the writhing bodies of college students.

Behind the massive wraparound bar were the two tenders and their manager. The three of them maintained their sections, filling out drinks and helping customers with whatever it was they could. It was a hard job at these times, but the tips were incredible. Of course, the tips were always great at the Bottomless Bar. With eye-candy abound, there was one thing that this establishment had over every other bar on the strip: the fact that every single staff member wore nothing below their waist.

It was an interesting sight, for the most part, sheaths and pussies out in the open, and that was if no one got excited. It wasn't uncommon to see one bartender sporting a raging erection and dripping pre cum while they went about filling orders. The sight did little more than make the tip jars overflow. It wasn't a strip club, that much was for certain, but the magnificent displays of fit eye-candy was enough to make people from all over the city come to the establishment.

Sure, cocks were grabbed, cunts were felt up, and balls were groped, but the fun of the atmosphere made all the tipsy advancements cheerful and a bit spurred on. The Bottomless Bar made sure to hire out to the most fit, attractive, and skilled workers it could get its paws on. It was often the case that staff were egged on to do body shots or to pour drinks into glasses from over top their own genitals. If tipped extra well, a tender could be convinced to give an extra shot of "something special" into someone's drink. Whether it was a joke for someone else or their own perversion, cases seemed to be split 50/50.

As the night wore on the crowd thinned and the music died away. Giving a wave to the hard at work staff behind the bar, the DJ left for the night at about 1 AM. This was the point where the more loyal patrons stayed around until closing time, which had its perks and downfalls. With the more quiet atmosphere it wasn't uncommon for some of the staff to enjoy the company of some of the guests, but without access to private rooms, their fun was often had out in public for everyone else to watch.

The small crowd for the evening had allowed one of the bartenders to go home early, leaving the manager and the other to clean up and close. The manager, a tall, muscular Doberman named Luthor, stood behind the counter with a rag in paw, drying out a glass he had just finished cleaning. Dennis, the other bartender, had snuck out from behind the bar at a couple of patron's requests and had divulged into promiscuity. He was a young, promiscuous German Shepherd, and was presently bent over a table by a muscular tiger, the canine's asshole being aggressively pounded. Just beneath him was the tiger's girlfriend, who had delved into sucking the dog off from the otherwise.

Luthor didn't much care, hardly any more drinks had been ordered in the past thirty minutes and so he had begun to clean everything up in preparation to close. A couple more customers left for the night and a couple lights had been turned off. To the Doberman's delight, a cute cheetah boy had snuck behind the bar to keep him company. Just under the counter, the rather feminine male had his face buried into Luthor's crotch, his lips slowly drawing back and forth over the dog's erect cock.

The bar manager held a decent composure but there were times that he would pause in his work to really enjoy the treatment he was receiving. There was something about the end of the night coming around that made the twinks really enthusiastic about this sort of thing. Whatever it was, Luthor would never complain. As the feline suckled away, the Doberman slowly let his eyes drift shut, his mind taken by the dutiful work.

The paw that had the damp rag drifted down and settled on the friendly boy's head, holding him still for a moment as the Doberman would give a couple bucks of his own. Adept at deep throating it would seem, no complaints were had as the impressively long canid member pushed down into his throat, the dog's heavy ballsack sealed against the other's lips. They stayed that way for a few extra moments, the cheetah's maw gulping around that rock hard piece of meat, only allowed a breath of air when Luthor would let his head come back.

"Lucky!" A voice roared from across the bar, snapping the Doberman's mind to the present rather unpleasantly. He knew that voice all too well, the most loathed patron that he had to always deal with. His eyes slowly came open and his view was immediately dominated by its owner. He was a large stallion, russet colored fur that shined flawlessly and a muscular build that was enough to intimidate anyone else that was in the bar. He didn't ever scare Luthor of course, the equine's bark was definitely worse than his bite. It would seem that without failure this incredibly obnoxious guest was going to impede of the Doberman's good time again, as per usual.

"Where the fuck did that useless mutt get off to?" the equine grumbled and turned his head from side to side, searching for his would-be boyfriend that was often at his side. Luthor had to stifle a moan that threatened to break his controlled disposition as the cheetah went back to work with slowly slurping and sucking on his raging dick. He was bound and determined to keep the horse from ruining the moment but the more he spoke the more the dog's blood began to boil.

"I think I saw him go to the bathroom," a dark furred wolf said, one of a few friends that sat around the table in the far corner of the room with the equine.

"Bathroom?" the horse roared in intoxicated disgust, "I didn't say he could go, I wanted another drink!" He glanced around at the almost completely empty insides of the bar before he let out an annoyed sigh and stood up. The move had him knocking back the chair he had been using in the same motion that he turned to begin approaching the bar, the Doberman directly in his line of sight. Ugh, this fucker, Luthor thought as he narrowed his eyes, his patience already growing thin.

This guy always seemed to be the first one to come in and the last one to leave on Saturdays. He always got way too drunk and it never seemed how loud the music got you could always hear his voice above it all. He was a huge talker, never shutting up about how great he was or how his credentials and background could get him into anyone's pants. He had loads of stories that would never cease to dominate the conversation and if there was ever a new subject he always found a way to steer it all back to him.

Luthor sucked in a sharp breath and held it as the feline beneath the counter began to draw his tongue around in circles on his shaft, his mouth working to swallow back the excessive pre cum that would collect at the back of his throat. In any other situation he'd have been throat fucking the cat hard without remorse or inhibition but now he had to maintain a professional mask. More now than ever.

The horse stumbled a time or two as he crossed the distance to the bar, his mouth hanging open as he fell against the counter and gave the manager a lopsided grin. The sight was enough to make the canine's cock instantly go soft, but perhaps a testament to the feline's ability, there was never a limp moment.

"Something I can, uhh...do for you, Ron?" Luthor asked and closed an eye as a particular powerful bolt of pleasure struck his groin.

"Yeah, gimme a drink," came the gruff reply. The Doberman met the other's intoxicated eyes, of which wavered as he spoke. He could barely keep himself upright and so his body was leaning far more over the counter for the manager's taste. He was so close that when he'd speak there was a stomach churning smell that gave the history of every drink he had consumed so far that night.

"We're kind of closing up here," Luthor said, trying to abate the obnoxious horse.

"Bullshit!" the equine snapped, spit flinging from his lips. "It ain't two yet, give me a god damned beer." The dog had to pause and grit his teeth to not let the true words of his mind come out.

"What would you like?" Luthor asked as he tried to keep a professional facade and not show how much he hated the horse's guts. He could handle loud people, dealing with obnoxious fools was pretty much a part of every job he had ever had, and this one was no different. It was the fact that, no matter how boisterous, or insulting, or condescending the stallion was to the other patrons, no one was allowed to touch him. Ashton, the Bottomless Bar owner, had given implicit instructions for just such a person. Behind the scene, these patrons were considered 'platinum' status, they spent at least two grand a week on drinks and services. As such, the staff were pretty much told to blow these guests on the spot if they ever pulled their cocks out.

"Give me a High Life," the equine slurred and grinned stupidly at the Doberman. The longer Ron was in his presence the less he could enjoy the increasingly sloppy blowjob beneath the counter and that truth was doing a good job of burning his insides.

Luthor grabbed a brown bottle from the cooler and popped the cap off so fast with his tool that he almost broke the neck. He set the drink down on a coaster and slid it up to the other. In a move that was meant to look slick, the horse snatched at the bottle with an open palm, but in his buzzed stupor ended up smacking it across the bar than grabbing it.

In a flash the drink skidded away, spilling its fizzing contents all over the counter before bouncing off the edge and shattering on the floor. The entire thing happened so quick that the Doberman had barely registered the event, but when he did all that he could hear was the horse's braying laughter.

His body froze as he had to catch himself from yelling or giving the patron a right hook purely on reaction. Even the Cheetah seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and paused in the moment to stare up at the big dog with worried eyes. Luthor's teeth were grit so hard there was a legitimate fear that he might chip a tooth. Almost everyone had paused in their conversation to look where the puddle had formed with the shards of glass lying about.

"Whoops!" the horse cackled louder and smacked at his own leg. "You know what? Not really in the mood for a beer," he said, though it was loud enough for everyone else in the bar to hear. "Give me a... ah... whiskey on the rocks," he said while making a display of rubbing at his chin.

"That'll be three fifty for the beer-"

Read the full story here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/devils-breath-at-8535533