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Nothing could keep her out, from the most secure compound to the highest penthouse. Indira's next target resided in a combination of them both. The tower was known as completely impenetrable. That was because she had never attempted to infiltrate it. There was someone at the very top, surrounded by cameras, sensors, guards, and more, and her task was to take him out, and so she was going to, without question.

The tigress did not know her employer, nor did they know her face. She operated on reputation alone - and that reputation was worth a considerable fee for a job like this. While she normally found special requests distasteful and preferred to approach and assassinate a target the way she found most suitable, this one intrigued her too much to turn down. Whoever had hired her to take out River must have held a considerable grudge towards the wolf, and they were willing to pay significantly extra to ensure the hit went out precisely as they desired. Whether it was a former lover, a corporate rival, or simply one of the many people he had inevitably stepped on during his ascent to the top of the world didn't matter to her. Only the job.

She resided on a nearby rooftop, several buildings over. The plan was entirely clear in her head, despite never being written down. All she needed was a glimpse at the blueprints, and she had snapshotted it in her mind down to every last alcove. Security codes, patrol routes, and of course the laundry list of humiliations she was to subject River to, it was all stored in her sharp mind. All she needed to do was clear her head from any distractions, meditating cross-legged atop a highrise apartment building as the wind whipped against her cloaked face.

The tight catsuit may have looked restrictive, hugging so very tightly to her otherwise naked body like that, but she had completed plenty of tasks in it. There was no fabric noise, no excess material to set off a laser grid, it kept her from growing too warm with exertion, and it had plenty of discrete pockets for her various pieces of infiltration gear. That it wrapped around her like a second skin, showing off the full extent of her voluptuous body was merely a secondary benefit - if the unthinkable happened, and she caught the gaze of a guard, it served as a useful distraction. Her mentor always said her breasts were too big for an assassin who never wished to be seen, but even she needed a backup plan.

When she was satisfied, she opened her violet eyes and fixed them squarely on her infiltration point. There was always a weakness. Someone always cut a corner somewhere. In this case, they probably assumed no one could have possibly reached a seventh story window from the outside. A leap of faith from the edge of the nearest building, an impeccably timed grapple, and she was in, pushing through the loose pane and replacing it behind her to ensure no one would know anything was out of order.

Observing from the shadows confirmed that everything was in order. Everything was ID-coded, which meant she couldn't ascend without accessing the security systems, but she knew where to find that. Darting silently down the hall and easily defeating the lock on a server room door meant she was concealed among racks and wires. That was never her thing, but she knew her instructions. A few precise wires pulled was all it took to make it look like a common system crash rather than an intruder. She had a short window of time to work with before someone noticed and rebooted everything - and she needed to be on the top floor when that happened. There were mere seconds of vulnerability on the door to River's private quarters. Any delay would have ensured she was locked out, and dealing with a newly primed friend-or-foe identification system that would have easily keyed to her heat signature. Out she went.

Avoiding the guards on the lower levels was simple enough. They never so much as felt their sixth sense tingle, much less got a glimpse of her. She was a shadow in their peripheral vision at the most, never perceived, never suspected. It wasn't until the twelfth floor that she had her first complication. Someone was out of position. Memorizing the patrol routes only worked when everyone was doing their job how they were supposed to. Surely River would have fired the big crocodile if he knew about that indiscretion, but he was her problem to deal with instead.

She had to consider whether she could work with that thick neck. Maybe she needed to consider more violent means - but that meant possible noise, possible struggle, and perhaps bloodstains as well. None of those were conducive to her silent mission. She was just going to have to trust in the element of surprise and the strength of her thighs. Waiting in a supply closet for his lumbering self to pass, she sprang her attack and went right for his shoulders, sitting on them from behind to wrap her legs ever so tightly around her throat.

He reached up to try to grab her, and she could feel the strength in those hands desperately clutching her calves, but there was no prying her off once she was attached. She squeezed, and hard. He may have been strong, but he was young and undisciplined. Pressing past that muscular neck and into the more vital spots rendered him unconscious with haste. She didn't kill him. There was no need. By the time he woke up, she was going to be long gone, with the target in her clutches. Lowering herself from his shoulders and catching him before he fell too loudly to the floor, she dragged him into that same closet and locked the door. Problem solved.

Through it all, she never lost count. There was still time. Ascending another half-dozen floors found her near her target. After the fortress-like lower floors, it looked surprisingly ordinary and luxurious, but she knew the dangers hidden away. Trip the alarm, and shutters would fall to trap her in with automated turrets that would have identified her as an intruder in a moment. If they had any sort of identification system in place at all - maybe they were simply designed to annihilate everything in sight, friendly fire be damned. She could not afford mistakes, and she had no intention to permit them.

It was a momentary flicker. Nothing more than a dimming of the lights overhead to anyone else, but she knew that was her cue. A swift dash from a shadowed stairway fooled the last set of guards. She used the wall and ceiling for leverage, feet never touching the ground to keep from setting off the pressure places, and she opened that door while it was ever so briefly unlocked. With that, she was inside, crouching in the entranceway of a penthouse so large it could have been its own house. The only thing she didn't know for certain was where River himself was going to be in his apartment.

She stalked him. Crawling with great speed, she moved from room to room, soon catching a glimpse of him out in the open, exposed, unexpecting. He paced back and forth in front of a trickling fountain, speaking loudly on the phone. That background noise served her well. She didn't need to worry about an errant creak of the floor setting off the surely paranoid wolf. He saw his icy eyes look her way a moment, but she didn't flinch. Holding perfectly still in the shadows ensured he didn't so much as consider there might be an intruder. All she needed to do was wait for his conversation to end, and she was ready to strike.

"Fuck me," River said to himself as he tossed away his phone. He slumped to the couch and put his feet up on the table after snatching a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice.

Indira struck just as he finished pouring himself a glass he never got a chance to taste. She let him set the bottle down so it didn't fall and shatter, and she sprang up from the shadows without giving him so much as a hint he was there. One moment he was stretched out in drunken frustration, the next he was contending with the nightmare-made-real that was the assassin who had somehow penetrated past every single line of defense he'd put in place to protect himself. It was a historical moment, an infiltration no one else could have possibly pulled off, but she didn't have time for pride. She needed to choke her target out to make him more easily transportable.

River fought, most certainly, but he was unarmed and unprepared. Clutching meekly at the legs around his throat didn't do him any good. His fingers slipped along the smooth surface of her catsuit, and he crashed to the floor when she dragged him there. Crossing her legs over his chest left him with his head framed snugly between the scissor-grip of her thick thighs. The most he managed was a short, stifled noise and a few slaps at her shins and boots before she squeezed hard enough to make his arms fall slack at his sides. The great mastermind River was unconscious on his living room floor, and no one was coming to his rescue.

Had it been an ordinary contract, then she could have finished the job right there. Yet she had the added complication of exfiltrating with his limp body slung over her shoulder. Going out the way she came wasn't an option. Instead, she hefted him up and carried him out towards the balcony. Throwing him over the edge would have made the task much easier. Perhaps she was even tempted for a moment, simply for the shock of it all. Instead, she stretched out a free hand to aim a concealed wrist-mounted device and shoot a tiny wire down to the nearest ceiling, which locked in place and stiffened in an instant. Despite the subtlety of that rope, it held them both for the long, invigorating descent from the top floor to the comparative slums below.

When River woke up again, he was far from home. That wasn't his luxurious bed, that was a cold, hard slab of a mattress. He was a little chilly in the sterlile-looking room, all concrete and buzzing overhead lights. Nothing bound him in place, but he was still slow to rise given how disoriented he was after getting knocked out so roughly. His neck hurt. His head was spinning. His vision was blurred enough that he didn't immediately register the threat still present in the room until he blinked several times and saw her step out in front of him.

It didn't matter what she wanted. He wasn't waiting for an introduction. The moment he had his senses about him, he charged her. She looked like an ordinary woman, perhaps even a soft one, the sort he might have invited to his penthouse had she not already invited herself. He was quite confident he could take her on. Leaping from the bed, a bit dizzy, but nonetheless determined, he flung himself towards her with his best attempt to tackle the mysterious blue tigress to the ground. Instead, he found himself on the floor, uncertain how he got there.

She easily avoided that lunge with an unimpressed expression on her face and tripped him up in the same casual motion. He fell hard. There were no safety nets. Scrambling before she could strike back, he got to his feet to take a swing at her, a wild haymaker directed right towards her face. It should have hit. She didn't move until the last moment, leaving him straining his arm against the empty air. He wasn't going to be discouraged. Another punch, this time straight forward at her, ended up in the palm of her hand. Her grip was far more unbreakable than he expected.

"Ah ... ah! Ow ow ow ..."

The tigress kept squeezing until he swore he could feel the bones in his hand breaking. Maybe they were just popping. It didn't feel good. He gritted his teeth and tried to kick at her while she was focused on his hand, but she kicked back. Catching him on his planted leg made him crash to the floor once more, loudly. He had the wind knocked out of him for a few moments. It was the perfect opportunity for her to counterattack, but she didn't even bother. He was doing a fine job beating himself up.

Crawling away felt a little pathetic, but he needed to recover himself. He was on his feet again, this time in a boxer's stance, watching her carefully for a possible opening. Yet all he could see were openings when she didn't so much as take a fighting stance against him. He wasn't even worth the effort, so she told him without saying a word. He approached cautiously, ducking and weaving, remembering everything he'd learned in those private self defense lessons. Her response was to tuck one hand behind her back, staring him down, daring him to try it again.

He punched, she deflected it. He elbowed, she avoided it. She didn't even need a closed fist to knock him silly. The points of her fingers or the side of her hand were enough. She jabbed, chopped, and sometimes simply slapped him while he did his best to fight her off, but in the end he was left staggering back, feeling those blows continue to resonate long after they'd landed. For a moment he feared his heart was about to explode, such was the precision of her strikes. Instead, he fell to one knee, stunned and disoriented, not to mention sore all over.

"I'm not going down like that ... whoever you are, you fucked with the wrong wolf."

Despite all the reasons to lose confidence, River wasn't going to give up. The sheer outrage that anyone could be so bold as to capture him in his own private suite was enough to drive him past the pain. She watched him with a bored expression. When he struck, she took his arm in both hands and brought him right to the ground, bending it back in the process. He could feel the muscles and bones alike straining. A little harder and she was going to break it. Frantically tapping out on the floor made her loosen her grip, surprisingly. Though not before stepping on the back of his head with a solid boot to remind him of his inferiority compared to her.

"Fuck," he growled, increasingly frustrated, cheeks blazing. "You'll see what I can do yet ..."

If it was a grappling contest, he was sure he could use his own superior weight against her. She allowed him to rise without interference, and even to run in and grab her. She didn't budge. He pushed and struggled to topple her, but she may as well have been a statue, bolted down and steady in her posture. At least until she redirected all that force and left him off balance, falling into a chokehold that had her latching on with her arms around his throat and her legs around his waist. Down they went like that, with him struggling to breathe, flailing, kicking, but unable to break free. She could have rendered him unconscious yet again if she held on just a little longer, but she allowed him to slip free and fall to all fours instead, coughing, wheezing.

When she stepped forth for the finishing blow, he was about ready to accept it. She'd defeated him. The rest was hardly necessary, but she intended to prove a point. He felt her grab him by chest, and in an instant his weight was his worst enemy, used against him as she flipped him over her shoulder to leave him flat on the ground once more. The impact seemed to echo through the room - a chamber without windows or even visible doors. There was nowhere to escape regardless of how he fared against her, and fighting clearly wasn't working when it left him bruised and aching on the cold floor.

"Who are you?" he finally asked when he recovered enough.

"You know who I am."

He squinted at her. While he most certainly didn't recognize her, he understood the idea of her. He didn't struggle when she stepped close and placed the heel of her boot on his throat. Grasping weakly at her ankle did nothing to stop her.

"Please," he said.

That made a slight smirk appear on her otherwise stern face. "I have not been hired to show mercy."

"Are you here to kill me?"

"I am here to complete my contract."

"What contract? Who hired you? Whatever they're paying, I can double - no triple it. Easy. You know who I am. You know I can do that. Just don't ..."

Her eyes flashed at the suggestion. That was all he needed to see to know not to try the bribe angle again.

"I do not break my contracts. The first stipulation was to remove you from your dwelling. Now for the rest of it." She leaned closer to let her rumbled words resonate through his bones. "If your death was the sole condition, you would be long dead. Even now, I can think of a dozen ways to end you, right here in this room."

That it was completely empty in there didn't make her claim seem any less believable. He'd seen what she could do with her hands. And her legs.

"However, I have been compensated for additional services. I don't know or care who you've made this upset, but if they want you humiliated, then they shall get it. Take off your clothes."

Though it was only spoken, that command carried with it an undertone of threat that had him rushing to meet her demand. She did the same. He watched her with concern, if some interest as she unzipped her suit. Removing it from her body was a matter of peeling herself out of it, revealing stripe after stripe of her elegant, unusually exotic blue fur. Such a sight would have normally been a detriment to her profession. No one could forget a beauty like her. Yet no one had ever identified her. That told River one thing. Seeing her face meant his odds of survival were going down.

She let her hair unfurl and splay down her shoulders, then cast him a penetrating glare. He didn't dare try anything. Not after he'd been given such a thorough thrashing. Yet she was far from done hurting him. As soon as he gingerly set his clothes aside, she snatched him by the wrist to yank him to his shaky feet. She made him stand just so she could deliver a stunning blow to his middle that instantly doubled him over. River strained at the feeling of getting his arm yanked around him, then faintly squirmed when she got him in a headlock. Getting pressed so close to her body like that let him feel the soft touch of her fur, and inhale the light but enticing scent of her exertion, all confined in the suit she'd just removed, release for him to breathe and perhaps to even admire.

When she caught him sniffing her, however slightly, she kneed him in the stomach and lifted him off his feet in that harsh chokehold. He didn't know how she managed to get so much leverage in a single motion, but he soon found himself sailing through the air once more, thankfully crashing to the bed instead of the floor this time. It may have been far less comfortable than he was used to, but it broke his awkward fall. He ended up on his head, folded in half, ass in the air, awkwardly struggling just to right himself before she pounced upon him.

"Drag it out as long as possible. Those are my instructions. Yet even I have limits to my patience. If you truly want to last, you are going to make it worth my time."

She was still wearing a pair of sturdy, tall boots. They didn't look the most practical for stealth or combat alike, but clearly that hadn't been a burden on her. Bringing the heel of one down on his chest as soon as he'd managed to crawl out of that heap she'd left him in, she stood atop the bed and pressed down until he whimpered. There was strength in her seemingly slim body he could never have expected, ready to crush his ribs if she so chose. Instead she moved up, and stepped on his face.

"Lick. Show me what good you are."

Any outrage he might have felt over such a command quickly faded away in favour of intimidation. He didn't want to completely debase himself immediately, but he did as he was told. Licking along the sole of her footgear surely brought her no actual pleasure. It was his obedience that was the point. He worked tentatively, taking in the taste of leather, trying not to meet the violent, violet gaze that burned ever downwards towards his prone form. Especially when she gave a scowl.

"If you are going to disappoint me like that, then I will simply have to shrink you down until you are little more than a mouse to me. It would be ever so easy to crush you underfoot. Satisfying too."

Though she made no indication of how exactly she would have brought him down to size, he wasn't about to try to call her bluff. There was probably something hidden around that she was ready to use. Unless she was simply speaking of magic. The way she had broken in and defeated his extensive security with seemingly such ease, he was starting to suspect there was something unnatural about her. No one was that good. It was all some excellent motivation to keep licking her boot, and much more generously at that.

Slurping, slobbering, utterly humiliating himself in the process of outright worshipping her covered soles eventually brought him around and a little higher. Working his way up, he eventually managed to taste the tigress sweat that had worked into the material. He pressed his tongue firmly to the sides, worked around the straps, even curled around to push right inside and get a sample of her bare fur for a moment. She allowed him to linger there, cleaning the day's work from her fur and boot alike, eventually bending down to loosen those straps. While she was so close to his face, she showed him her teeth.

"Or I could simply swallow you whole. There are few better ways to ensure a target will never be found."

Though her threat came with the appearance of a snarl, her tone was its usual steady, cold voice. She wasn't about to let emotion distract her from doing her job of frightening him. He watched her carefully, not daring to look away, but he kept licking. Up and down he went until his tongue was sore from working along the harsh surface. Only when she removed that last piece of gear to render herself fully naked at last did he get a moment of relief.

It was a second at most. She soon pressed her bare paw down atop his muzzle and made him bury his nose somewhere between her toes. The rising vibration in her throat told him all he needed to know. He was just going to have to apply all the knowledge of what he enjoyed when people were down on their knees, worshipping his feet, treating him like a god. His life depended on how good he tingled and tantalized the tigress' toes in the process of tending to her every need and demand alike.

Slow, dragging swipes of his tongue got her nice and slathered. There was plenty of accumulated sweat to find when he pressed deep enough into the squishy pads of her paws. He kneaded and cleaned her in every way he could imagine, from every angle, even if it meant slightly straining his jaw with the pressure he was putting into it. Sometimes he ended up sucking on one of her toes, taking great caution with her extended claws. One by one he went, until his whole palate was infused with her flavour.

A little more pressure on his face, stepping on him quite forcefully, let her really mash her soles down on his tongue for a little longer. He could barely breathe. She left him gasping when she finally let up, and he didn't get long to recover. She was swiftly down and on top of him, sitting on his middle, weighing him down as she stared at his frightened, already overwhelmed face. Pressing her knees into his ribs helped her squeeze him into position, and to leave him gasp, struggling for air beneath her.

"Breathless already? You are going to need to work harder. Or shall I simply sit on your face until you suffocate?"

Pressing close left him with a good look at her pussy, inches from his face. That meant getting a good sample of her fragrance too. He didn't need a keen canine nose to know she was aroused. He was doing a good job. All he had to do was keep her happy for as long as it took to formulate an escape plan. Or perhaps until she was simply satisfied and let him go. If such a thing was even possible.

Before he could offer his thoughts on the question and predictably try to talk her out of snuffing him, she wrapped her fingers around his throat. Everything she did was so very firm, so unwavering and strong despite her not carrying an abundance of visible muscle. She was trained and taut in all the right places while still remaining soft and seductive in others. It was not the time to appreciate how comfortable her rear felt nestled atop him whens he was so casually choking him out. To his embarrassment, he could barely muster up the effort to strike back as she slowly, unflinchingly drained the life from him.

"You did not last long between my legs. You will not perform any better the second time. Your lungs are weak, and so is your neck. A little harder ..."

She tightened her grip, twisting ever so slightly to the side. He could already feel something start to give. It was far worse than a strained muscle. The very joints in his neck, at the very top of his spine, were starting to separate in her surgical, expert hands.

"And you will break. I can do this any moment I wish. Don't forget."

River thought for just a moment he might have seen a flash of a smile on her lips once she released him and left him to pant and recover once more. Perhaps she was allowing herself to have a little fun, at least. He couldn't deny that he was getting a little turned on as well. The fear was a new experience. All the pleasures he'd enjoyed, all the partners, and he'd never been with someone quite like her. He made sure not to show it just yet, but he could express his admiration for her body with his hands. Tentatively at first, and then more confidently when she didn't immediately end him for doing something she didn't command, he began to touch and massage her body.

He knew what he was doing. His personal masseuse's techniques sprang back to his mind to help him please her. Starting with the same thighs that had rendered him unconscious, he pressed in to feel just how toned she was beneath the apparent softness. Those muscles tensed and flexed under his touches, and she watched him intently, but allowed him to keep going. She didn't react when he moved up, and wrapped his hands around her hips, or even provided some deep kneading to the curve of her striped butt. Another small pang of arousal sparked through him while he massaged her ass, but his focus remained firmly on her.

Up he went, pressing into the muscles of her lower back. All that crouching and slinking around surely meant she carried some tension there, even with all her training. His suspicion seemed to be proven correct when she emitted a slight rumble once he'd lingered there enough. She liked that. He was doing a good job. River had finally found something he could do that impressed her enough to get her purring - or at least growling at him in a fairly non-threatening manner.

From where she was sitting on him, he couldn't quite reach her shoulders, but he rubbed her back as high as he could manage. When his arms were tired, he moved around, even more tentatively than he'd started. He watched her carefully for signs of disapproval, as if he was dealing with a wild animal. Sometimes he swore she never blinked. It wasn't often, at least. Her expression didn't change when he laid his hands gently on her breasts. When he began to deeply squeeze into that plush bust, he saw the corner of her lip curl for just a moment, as if suppressing a snarl. Of pleasure, or so he hoped.

It was much easier to think when he had a pair of tigress tits to play with. Of course, his own amusement was hardly the focus. He continued to massage her with all his fingers pressing into her supple breasts, the one part of her that wasn't hiding a layer of firm muscle beneath the surface. Squeezing and squishing until she tired of the attention and directed his hands downwards once more, stroking along her middle, her sides, and eventually finding her hips once more.

His efforts were enough to earn him a taste of freedom. She wasn't letting him go, certainly not, but she did rise up from off of him. He wasn't even sure what to do with himself when she wasn't holding him down. A glance to his side saw her stretched out near him, naked body on full display. Her expression was as stern as ever. She was waiting for him to get the idea. Her eyes could command him without her so much as needing to speak a word. She wanted more than just his hands to show how much he adored his captor's body.

River started at her collarbone. He might not have been able to best her in a fight, but his big wet tongue could certainly show her up when it came to licking. Kissing and tasting her body from the top down granted him the gift of some further rumbles. They were deep and ominous, far from a purr, but as pleasant as he could expect from her. He traced down her chest and tended to her breasts once more, this time swiping across them in every direction and spending some extra attention at the tiger's soft nips until they perked up under his tongue. A hand on the back of his head directed him to suckle on one of them, and that was just what he did for as long as she kept him there.

If he expected milk, he was going to be disappointed, no matter how hard he sucked. She didn't seem to mind him being a little rough with that fine teat either, tugging it with his lips, even nibbling it a little. There he lingered for a time, growing more and more visibly aroused the longer he worked on her. He tried not to even glance down and call her attention to his stiff shaft, but he was sure she noticed, and chose to ignore it. Instead, she directed him by the firm grip on the back of his head to smoosh and snug right between her breasts, smothered so deeply into her cleavage he couldn't breathe anything but her.

Even with the danger and discomfort rising, he remained obedient. Keeping him right there he was, pinned, immersed meant he was swallowing down her soft spice, her arousing scent, and slowly feeling the ache in his lungs returning. Nonetheless, he was all over her with his licks and kisses, loudly smooching her there when he wasn't simply stroking up and down in slick drags of his tongue. She mashed his nose into her fur and used her elbows to squeeze her breasts around his head, applying enough pressure that he started to feel genuine concern once it built up enough. As far as ways to go went, getting his head crushed in a pair of plump tits seemed fitting for him.

Instead, he was permitted to descend down her body once she released that frightful grip on him. It was a firm reminder that she could have still killed him at any moment. He still wasn't entirely sure if he was earning his freedom, or if he merely signing his own death warrant by devoting himself to her, by letting her break him down into her reverent worshipper. Either way, he didn't hesitate to kiss his way down her middle and eventually stuff his head between her thighs. With one leg looped over his head, she held him snugly to her sex, giving him the most intimate sample of her lustful fragrance yet. That was one he had to huff and saturate himself with well before the first taste.

That leg remained relaxed over his shoulder while he worked his nose, sniffing her wet pussy until he felt his eyelids naturally flutter shut. A gulp of air and then a gulp of her kept him immersed in her warmth, in her beckoning scent. He kept that up until he couldn't resist any longer. There was no choice but to lick her, to slip and slide and slather from bottom to top. A tigress of her power and beauty deserved all the love he could give, and not merely because she could have sprung to action and ended him in all manner of ways at any moment.

Of course he knew those calm moments were fleeting. Yet even so, he cried out in surprise when he found himself suddenly locked in the same vise-grip of her thighs that had knocked him out. This time, she wasn't choking him unconscious, with much of the pressure locked around his skull itself. She was holding back. He could tell by the fact his head didn't simply pop in an instant. Latching onto him as if springing a trap, she rolled her weight over and left him on his back again, this time fully pinned beneath her pussy, getting his muzzle ridden and immersed in her soft, smothering sex to ensure he sustained himself breathing nothing but her tangible lust.

A rising rumble far more threatening than her previous approving growls reminded him she did not say stop. Just because she was sitting on his face, nestled down on his chest and shoulders with her sleek sex shoved right against his mouth and nose, didn't mean he was done servicing her. A roll of her hips against his tongue and lips helped to spur him along. She was adept at pleasuring herself with his body, but he fully intended to keep up with her for as long as he could. Struggling, he eventually managed to get his hands up on her hips - though even with that grip, no amount of force would remove her from his face. Not with that tight of a grip. He was just going to have to satisfy her if he ever wanted to see light again.

She fucked his face. For all her elegance and precision, it was the first time she truly began to loosen up and go wild, to truly start driving into him for her own pleasure. He held on as tightly as he could just to brace himself for the ride he was enduring. There was nothing else he could do to contribute. He was her toy. She bathed him in juices that clung sweetly to his fur, grinding her scent so deeply into his nose he felt like he was getting drunk on her. Her glossy pussy went slipping and sliding across his entire face at once, dousing him, painting him, and bringing out the finest of rumbles from deep within her chest. That was the closest she'd got to sounding pleasant yet.

While he tried his best to lick and sample her as she rubbed on him, there wasn't much need for that. She was already getting tighter from the friction on his features alone. He could feel her starting to quiver, starting to clench inwards and catch at the tip of his tongue. Even those contractions of rising pleasure were powerful. He felt as if he could have ended up with his whole muzzle inside of her if her thrusting hips came at him from a slightly different angle. Instead, he was left to slowly drown in her while she rode his entire face to a snarly climax he could feel tensing through her body before the big release.

Closing her legs just a little more tightly around his head brought a concerning amount of pressure to his skull. She squeezed him until he was sure he was going to shatter, suffocated him with her smothering weight, all while grinding out an orgasm that was going to leave him even more of a mess. His fur was already matted with her lust streaked upon it. She reached her peak with a subdued but still powerful roar he could feel resonate through her entire body just as she let a gush of release splash over his face. A satisfying squirt that further saturated his senses in her scent left him struggling beneath her, filling his mouth and swallowing down her excess juices by the time she was done.

The assassin didn't let up from his face until she had worked out every last twitch and flex of pleasure. It didn't matter that he was close to passing out beneath her. His efforts to squirm out and get even a single gasp of air proved useless. She just squeezed him harder. He felt something start to give under such force, but she relented at the last moment. Perhaps out of mercy, perhaps simply because she thought it would be too messy to end him that way. When he was on the very cusp of unconsciousness, his lungs aching, his throat burning for air, she released him and allowed him to choke his way back to life.

Sitting nearby, she watched him with the kind of intensity in her eyes that told him she was far from done with him. He watched her carefully once he'd stopped coughing and choking on the juices in his throat. Her gaze strayed down, eventually focusing on his obvious arousal. He couldn't hide the effect she was having on him, despite how poorly she'd been treating him. So many others would have been scared to hurt and dominate him like that, but not her. He had to admit he was surprised to find some part of him had been needing precisely that. Even more surprising was that she didn't seem to mind.

"Hmm. I thought as much. Enjoyed your treatment, have you? Does it feel good to find your place beneath me?"

Those were rhetorical questions of course. They both knew the answer. From on top of the world, to broken down and drenched in her juices, the wolf had been thoroughly humbled, even broken by the tigress' extensive work on him. His body still hurt in places where she'd struck him or thrown him to the ground, but the vast majority of his focus was on how hard he was for her. Was he to be punished, perhaps further roughed up for daring to show his interest? Or perhaps ...

"I will make you a deal. You may cum, if you wish. It will be the best orgasm of your life, I promise that. But it will be your last."

"What do ..."

He didn't so much as get a chance to finish his question before she was on his face again, this time riding him in reverse. She settled her rear heavily on his drenched features for a time, simply weighing down upon him, burying him beneath a pair of taut cheeks. Then she stretched forward, but it wasn't to ease the burden on his head. He found himself all wrapped up in her thighs once more, strangled by their power, slowly drained of life and air alike even as she teased and tantalized his desperately stiff cock with the tip of her tongue. The shudder that passed through him came with a thin spurt of precum right up into the air. She let it splash down over his clenching balls before she continued tasting him.

One lick was almost enough. He could feel her grip tightening. His face was nestled in her pussy once more, muffling his gasps and whimpers, and she squeezed his neck so tightly he was certain she was ready to snap it in half, or perhaps shatter it into a million pieces. There was no doubt in his mind that she meant every word of her warning. All he needed to do was lose control for a moment, to unleash all the pent up pleasure and cum all over her pretty face. Maybe it would have been worth that brief moment of smug satisfaction, but the chance soon passed when she overtook his shaft in the warmth of her mouth.

Her firm control over his body extended to his pleasure as well. She wanted to make him feel good, and she descended smoothly over every inch of the wolf's cock, enveloping him in her lips, resting him atop her feline tongue was exactly what he needed. He was trembling for her before she gave the first suck. Her grip never relented. She was squeezing him, choking him out, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of passing out while he remained buried in her sex, swallowing the last of her juices, huffing her scent rather than the air his lungs blazed for.

A few pats and pushes at her legs was his attempt at tapping out, but he was going to see any mercy from her. The only way out of her grip was to blow his load, and that meant she was going to end him. There was no choice to be had, and even less of one when she started sucking him off in slow, slurping bobs of her head up and down from tip to base of his desperately throbbing cock. She didn't need to go fast to absolutely blow his mind with how good she could suck.

Soon, he wasn't even clutching at her anymore. With a choking noise rising from his smothered lips, he clawed and grasped at the bed, desperate for something to hold onto, something to help him brace himself and hold on a little longer. He needed the stamina to keep from passing out between the blue and white of her thighs, and he needed the sheer willpower to keep from letting it all go, from succumbing to the spoiling sucks and strokes of her tender, textured tongue dancing up and down his dick. His whole body was throbbing with pleasure, leaving him splaying his toes, clenching his hands into fists, and his head was swirling and sparking all the brighter for the near-suffocation she was inflicting on him. Maybe it would all be worth it to just drop his guard for half a moment and let the rest come naturally.

One blink, one flicker of his awareness was all it took. He lost control and it was all over. His entire body seized up, overpowered by the sheer force of orgasm rushing through him. He felt it in his spine, he felt it behind his ears, and down to the very tips of toes. Mostly, he felt it in his cock, his tightening balls, and his flexing taint. She milked him with the same expertise she gave towards stalking and killing, bottoming out with his cock nestled inside her throat so she could gulp the cum directly from the tap. The sound of her swallowing while he erupted between her lips just ensured he kept going, kept shooting it all out for her, giving in, fading, suffocating with every moment she spent strangling the very life out of him all throughout his mind-melting orgasm.

He came for her until he had nothing left, until he was simply twitching and dry-firing between her lips, utterly drained down to the last drop. The afterglow was a cloud descending upon him, but she didn't let it. The moment he finished shooting for her, she cocked her hips to the side and took his head right with her, twisting her thighs around his near-crushed throat. A sickly snap like a thick branch cracking under her strength sent a numb feeling shooting down River's body, and then he was entirely slack. He felt that terrifying paralysis for a few moments longer, lingering for a fraction of a second that was like days to him. Then it went dark.

When she confirmed River was dead, the tigress released his neck and slipped her lips off his softening shaft to leave him where he was. When she was done releasing his snapped neck from her grasp, she turned to look him over. His fur was frazzled and drenched, marked down by the lusty scent of his own assassin. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling with a rapturous expression, as if he was still stuck in that final orgasm of his life.

His body continued convulsing for a while longer where she left it, as if reliving his final moments. Those last few seconds alive were ecstasy beyond anything he'd ever felt, most certainly. He gave it all away for one last cumshot - one she casually licked from her lips and finished swallowing down without further thought. It was all part of the job, and it was a generous way of finishing him off when she could have so easily broken his neck on their first meeting. Another contract complete, and her best paying one yet. She glanced over his body to watch the last twitches cease. Not because she didn't trust her own handiwork. It was more a matter of appreciation for her art.

Another fool who thought himself untouchable, felled by her hand. Or her legs, at least. They would wonder how it was ever possible, and the wealthiest would wonder if any of them were safe. She liked it that way. Retrieving her cloak and catsuit alike, she was ready to vanish into the night, anonymous once more. Revealing herself to him meant he had no chance of survival from the start, as much as she might have teased him. The tigress always fulfilled her contracts, and no one was ever to know who she was. By the next day, she would walk among the crowds, without so much as a glance of suspicion from those around her, even after changing the world for better or worse with the power of her thighs.