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A Mission in Submission

Written by Arian Mabe / Amethyst Mare for Daniel Yote

_ _

"You cannot possibly be serious."

Dora, the blonde haired partner in the_Shepsisters_, crossed her arms over her chest, creasing the dark grey sleeveless shirt that she had donned for training. The German Shepherd's pale hair was scraped back in a messy ponytail, paws wrapped in cloth for protection during paw to paw combat training: it would never do to allow one's skills to slip. The training room was her forte, outfitted with practice dummies that took frequent abuse and could be replaced when she lost her temper. Her pair of pink pistols were clasped loosely in each respective paw. The pistols were always kept close and, despite training in cargo pants and the baggy, comfortable shirt for better range of movement, Dora refused to leave the pistols in a different room. Their close proximity kept away pesky distractions.

Except Danica. Dora frowned, narrowing her sharp blue eyes. Her sister was the only one brave enough to confront her in the training room, though even Danica wondered when the blonde would truly snap and fly at her upon making one interruption too many. At least they were evenly matched. Exhaling slowly, the brunette sank into a shallow crouch, eyes fixed speculatively upon the nearest punching bag, which was set close to the ground for practicing strikes when one was downed. Not that either of the Shepsisters had ever been or would ever be struck to the ground.

"I assure you that I am nothing but serious," Danica answered, shifting position to give the target a couple of experimental jabs - awkward from such an angle, but necessary training. "We have been hired."

"I understand that much."

Dora rolled her eyes, striding across the room while brushing strands of sweaty hair off the back of her neck with quick flicks of her fingers.

"What I do not understand," Dora picked up the pistols from where they sat crossed on a padded mat, "is why we are accepting this job. D.C. Yote, for all his interests, wishes to assassinate this target you mentioned. This target is one, well, one on our side of affairs, you could say."

"Then what is the problem?"

Danica suppressed a yawn and straightened, paws tucked loosely into her trouser pockets. She could not wait to slip into something a little more comfortable; straight-legged trousers were smart for meetings along with a shirt that may have been more suited for a male, but were a far cry from familiar combat gear. Flicking her eyes between the seething, blonde-haired canine and the rack of throwing knives, Danica contemplated why she had not considered target practice sooner. Her sister could dodge.

"What is the problem?" Dora gnashed her teeth together like a feral dog backed into a corner. "Oh, must I list the problems for you, my dearest sister? Why would you accept this?"

"It's work," Danica stated bluntly. "Good money for an easy job. An entertaining job."

"We have all the money and all the job offers we need!" Dora hissed, pistols swinging unconsciously at her sides like dual pendulums. "So what the fuck are we doing providing personal security for this crazy coyote while he goes off to kill -"

Danica raised her paw, palm out, stopping Dora's words as they streamed angrily forth before she could go on about the target. One never knew who may be listening, even in their own headquarters.

"Enough. You need to ask the right questions, Dora, not leap to conclusions." The German Shepherd bristled but Danica continued without addressing the strained nerve. "Personally, I'd much rather this particular fur remain alive, the one that Yote is targeting this time." Danica paused, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. "Wouldn't you agree, dear sister?"

Dora huffed and threw her paws in the air, careless of the pistols she toyed with. Used to her moods, Danica withheld a sigh with a great effort of will, patiently waiting until her sister had patience enough to unleash an answer of sorts.

"Of course," she snarled at last. "Which is why it's obscene to take the job and assist that damned mutt in the first place."

"Oh," Danica smiled, tapping the side of her muzzle with her forefinger. "I never said we would help him kill the target now, did I?"

Attention caught and held, Dora tilted her muzzle, mulling over this fresh information. A glint formed in her eye and the canine's throat bubbled with a wicked giggle that one less informed may have deemed 'crazed'.

"What are you suggesting?" Ears perked, she tucked the pistols safely into her hip holster, securing them both with worn, soft leather straps.

"I think you know," Danica raised an eyebrow, grinning widely enough for her sharp teeth to flash in a predatory grin. "That pup is delightful at our whim. If we play our cards right, we can keep our friend alive, have our fun and collect a sizeable sum of money all at the same time."

Withdrawing a small, flat box of a mobile phone from her pocket, Danica tapped the screen rapidly, forwarding the saved message to accept the job - as planned. She met her sister's eyes and grinned cruelly, the duo nodding once in agreement. Dora flicked her tail, very slowly unsheathing a knife from the rack with a deadly 'shick', eyes gleaming coldly.

"Love bites, after all."

*

"Yote, darling, it has been too long."

The wind whipped across the runway, stirring the hair from the Shepsisters' necks. Always on time, the sisters arrived at the small, country airport right on schedule, dawn light creeping over the horizon to illuminate their meeting. The airport, if it could be called such, was nearly deserted and Dora was sure they had the wrong place until their driver - the vehicle would have to be returned to headquarters after they set off, of course - pointed out the single light aircraft poised at the far end of the weed strewn runway. Dora snorted and rolled her eyes as her sister smiled genially, throwing forth charm that could have melted ice. The subject of Danica's attention stood tall in full combat uniform, a small badge upon his chest noting the section he was devoted to: D.C. Yote.

"Danica, Dora," the coyote nodded stiffly. "I hope you are well."

"Where are we heading?"

Dora didn't beat around the bush. If it had not been unseemly, she would have bounced on the balls of her feet and spun the pistols in her paws.

"That is classified." Daniel Yote stepped aside, gesturing for the ladies to go ahead of him to the small aircraft. "Though will become evident soon enough, rest assured."

The Shepsisters glanced at one another, set on the back foot. After a moment, Dora shrugged, gave Danica a look and stepped forward, despite clear reservations. They had nothing to fear from this coyote. To them, he was harmless.

"Whatever," Dora muttered, brushing past Danica. "If he tries anything, I can take him."

Laughing lightly, Danica followed behind Dora, tail wagging so that it brushed as if by accident against the coyote's. The last time she had seen him, the coyote had had a ball gag stuffed between his teeth and black ropes criss-crossing his body in the most beautiful, restrictive pattern. Ears perked professionally, he took on an entirely different demeanour as he kept his back ramrod straight, permitting himself a small smile as Danica passed, shivering beneath the touch of her tail. The German Shepherd licked her lips.

It was set to be a very interesting job indeed.

*

Of all places that the Shepsisters had expected to end up, Turkey was the furthest from their minds, though it had been Dora who had bet on them ending up overseas. Danica, a sore loser, tugged her ladies dress suit so that it sat more smartly upon her toned form, the expensive fabric doing little to conceal years of lean, hard muscle. Yote was dressed in a similar fashion, donning a dark grey suit that complimented his fur and a scowl. Privately, Danica thought that it had been a while since he had seen true action, to possess such a serious attitude without due reason. Or perhaps he thought the sisters would be keen to outsmart him once again, in which he would be correct if he so suspected.

The trio landed at a bustling airport - a far cry from the one they left in the US, furs dashing by pace that set them apart; every individual in the vicinity had somewhere to be and did not hesitate to push past anyone that hindered their progress. In a dress suit that matched her sisters and a pair of modest, sharp heels, Dora nudged the glasses - part of her 'disguise', though sh­e had been all too keen to wear them - up the bridge of her muzzle, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth.

"Where to now?"

She always had to know, pestering anyone within earshot on past missions until Danica or another had snapped, releasing withheld information. Yote, however, did not attempt to hide anything. Carrying a neat briefcase in his right paw, he adjusted his royal blue tie and stepped up to the kerb to await their scheduled ride.

"The hotel is first on our stop," he said as he scanned the cars, a heaving mass of metal and fumes. "I would very much like to get out of these clothes, even though I've only just gotten into them. Something more comfortable would do better for this afternoon and evening."

"Yes, you do look rather dashing out of them, dear," Danica quipped, unable to resist as her expression remained carefully neutral.

She swore the coyote blushed beneath his fur, but a cab pulled up beside and he had no chance to reply as he nodded to the driver, allowing the nippy, bay equine to load up their bags while he squirmed. The horse driver was quick enough - a credit to his youth - that they did not need to assist him and Yote made a personal note to tip him well upon arriving at the hotel. Of course, the driver was paid for by his agency and discreet to a fault, but a few more coins from the agency's pocket would not hurt anyone and keep him in good stead with the driver.

Quiet on the drive to the hotel, Dora mused over the city that she had not seen for several years. Had Danica been with her last time? No, that had been a solo mission, one of the rare ones. It was a stunning place, a centre of commerce and business with a deadly, seedy undertone. Smiling, the blonde German Shepherd leaned her muzzle on her paw and cast a sly glance at the coyote sitting in the middle seat between the two ladies.

He left them swiftly at the hotel, allowing the sisters to 'deliver' him to his hotel room and take up separate rooms on either side of his to shower and change. It was not long, however, before Danica found herself in Dora's room, perched on the bed as the canine, clad only in simple but flattering lingerie - black, of course, for practicality with her current set of clothes - talked through the events of the day. Scheming, the Shepsisters were deep in discussion when a commotion set Danica springing to her hind paws, knife in one paw and pistol in the other, instinct contracting every muscle ready to fight.

Rather than an enemy, the coyote of the hour tumbled through the door, trousers unbelted and loose around his hips. He snarled a curse to no one in particular, belting his black trousers - casual wear that still allowed adequate range of movement on the street - and letting the casual shirt hang over the top. As if suddenly aware that the Shepsisters were staring at him, dumbfounded and in various states of undress, he shot upright, holding up a paw to stay the flood of inevitable questions.

"You better have had enough time to freshen up, ladies," he panted, hopping on one hind paw to drag the other shoe on. "Doesn't look like we've the chance to grab sleep before the fun starts. The target's on the move."

He grimaced, eyes flicking back in a brief flash of shyness, professional mask slipping.

"I apologise for my entrance." He ran his fingers through the fur on the top of his head, ruffling it up. "It is not how I wished the first night to begin or how I should have composed myself."

Dora and Danica glanced at one another, the blonde stifling a bark of laughter that her sister shook her head at, diving for the open suitcase and street clothes.

"I thought you were all prim and proper now." Dora grinned and toyed with her hairbrush. "Don't look like we haven't seen it all before, Yote, or vice versa."

The coyote flushed crimson and said nothing, turning his head away. His silence said it all and he left the room with his tail pressed unusually close to his rump, pausing to mutter that the Shepsisters should be swift to catch up with him.

Watching his tail disappearing around the edge of the door, Dora giggled, tossing her hairbrush into the air and catching it with one paw.

"Still the same then," she said conversationally, grinning like a fool until a blouse struck her in the side of her muzzle.

"Get dressed," Danica scowled. "We have a job to do."

They caught up with the coyote in the hotel lobby and fell in, taking an arm each as if they were out for a stroll on the streets. Tensing under their touch, Dan nodded curtly, continuing upon his way with a purposeful stride. The Shepsisters smiled charmingly, chattering to one another as the steely eyed coyote donned a pair of sunglasses, completing his disguise. Who would ever suspect a coyote taking two ladies out to dinner in Istanbul? Perfectly normal, if warranting a glance or two. Though the strength of his commitment to the task at hand was surprising, shockingly so. Even Danica was surprised to find that every muscle in the coyote's body was hard and taut, ready for action at the flick of a switch or drop of a dagger: he must really want the target dead.

It was almost a shame that his mission would never succeed.

The plan was in motion and all Danica had to do was laid out like stepping stones for a cub. Simple, but sweet. Dora, of course, had her part to play too - that would become evident later. The first part was easy, comparatively so, and in Danica's paws alone. Trotting alongside the coyote as his pace increased on the crowded street, pushing through throngs of local furs without a care for their wellbeing, she ran over the plan. Time was the issue, time of all things! There was no time for something elaborate. It would have to be the tried and tested, for all she loathed the classics. However, inside knowledge helped and Yote was one for the true staples.

"There." She jerked her muzzle an inch to the right, disguising it with a cough; anyone could be watching.

"What?" Yote paused mid-step, eyes roaming the crowd, seeing nothing out of the ordinary but the native Turkish species flocking amongst the street stalls: they had progressed to a more informal part of the city.

"Your guy." Danica rolled her eyes. "Golden Jackal, amber eyes, wears a gold chain on his right wrist with a sapphire set into it? High profile, smartly dressed, stands out, native breed but dressed non-native. You were on his tail a hundred feet from the hotel."

"You weren't supposed to know who my target was," Dan muttered, eyes darkening. "We'll talk about that later."

"Quit complaining," Dora snapped, a deceptive grin covering the harshness of her words. "That's who you're after, let's get the job done."

Yote was perhaps a little too quick to take Dora's orders but he as much as anyone else had a job to do. Turning sharply to the right, he slid his arms around the waists of his partners, angling his muzzle skyward as if he was enjoying the warmth of the late, burned sunshine. Ahead, a fox' brush flashed around the corner, striding on to a neighbouring street at a smart, snappy pace that matched his manner, casting a glance back over his shoulder. But he was not the jackal. Enemies were everywhere. Who could he trust? The coyote's heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his ears, the shot of adrenaline coursing through his veins proving the most potent of drugs.

Closer, closer... The crowds thinned as they left the market. They, meaning the Shepsisters, were on thin ice and Danica knew it. Everything had to be timed perfectly, yet time was exactly what they lacked.

The Shepsisters followed the coyote down a narrow alley with bated breath, brushing past a small ground squirrel that cocked his head inquisitively before moving on, which was just as well for him. Dora's patience was low.

"In there!" Dora hissed between her teeth, eyes flashing: she adored the chase.

Dan turned, finding the canine pointing at a plain, black door with posters splashed across the front. Upon closer inspection, he raised an eyebrow at their content: he had not been aware of the seedier side of Istanbul, having only been to the city on professional, collar and tie, business previously. Perhaps citizens of the city were more open about their activities, allowing the obscene to skim a millimetre below the surface, but he could not be sure, which put his hackles up. Surely this had to be some kind of joke. Was there any sense in the jackal disappearing into what could only be a BDSM club, of all places?

"There?" Dan shook his head, hesitating. "Nothing in the files said anything about this."

"What's wrong?" Danica shoved him in the small of the back. "Get going or we're going to have to chase him down again!"

"It's too easy."

"What part of this is easy?" Danica growled, showing her teeth. "You haven't shot the bastard yet, or whatever it is you're planning to do. And I for one want this messy business wrapped up. We have a job to do, D.C. Yote. Let's get it done."

Against his better judgement - little good that had ever done him - the coyote nodded, raising his fist and opening the door with the air of a fur that expected an assailant to leap out at any second. He had not expected it to open with so little resistance, but it swung inward without even a creak. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, betraying his tension, and he glanced back at the Shepsisters who, to all outward appearances, stood at attention, eyes roaming for threats.

Their presence reassured him somewhat and it was with a bold step that he entered the club. He was far from a stranger to BDSM and did his best to keep his eyes straight ahead, cheeks burning, as he paced through the first room, searching out his jackal. The main room was spaced out with the usual trappings: soft furnishings where one could sit and observe accompanying adult furniture, bolts and O-rings for restraining furs. One feline was strapped spread-eagled to a vertical X-frame, yowling as a chestnut mare, clad in a latex dress and hoof-boots, stroked his cock, teasing him to the edge of a denied orgasm. One wall held an impressive array of whips that made him quiver unconsciously. The bar on the left housed only a red fox, who dropped him a sultry wink. Others sprawled on the various sofas, sipping drinks and enjoying the attire of the staff, although it was unsurprising to find the club quiet at this time of day. Business would pick up shortly.

It only took a nudge from Danica to direct him towards the back of the main room, doing their best to avoid staff and clients alike, where the jackal he tailed padded through a grey door, raising his voice in greeting. It was time. The coyote's muscles coiled and released, sending him at a headlong sprint across the room. Attention? That did not matter. He would be in and out before anyone knew any different. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, his target almost within reach. As he hurled his body through the door, which was ajar, he reached for his weapon and skidded to a halt, almost falling flat on his nose.

Fuck.

He should never have entered the room. He understood this as soon as the door clicked shut upon his heels, a bolt sliding into place on the exterior. There was nothing in the room: four, grey walls and no more, simply concrete that had not been finished. Had some crazed patron decided he was their plaything for the night? Licking his lips, the coyote sank into a crouch and spun about, only to see the Shepsisters leaning against the door with matching, wicked grins. Dora clapped her paws and bounced up to him on her toes, pink pistol in one paw and a black bag in the other. Expecting something different, Dan straightened and cocked his head, realising his mistake a millisecond later.

Though he leapt backwards with all the strength he could muster, reaching for his knife, he could not match the German Shepherd for her speed. The canine landed on top of him with all the weight of a sack of bricks, knocking the breath from his lungs and laughing aloud as he struggled to breathe.

"Surprise, darling."

She almost felt bad for the coyote as she brought the sack down over his head.

*

He should have known.

They did not bother to render him unconscious this time but his paws were embarrassingly secured with cuffs behind his back, metal clinking as he was hauled through the club. They dragged him into the open, seductive music tickling his ears, though patrons of the club paid him little attention, at least to his ear. The sack blinded him. He could not tell where their eyes were. His muzzle burned - he was too easily captured, lured in by the ones that he had trusted as his bodyguards. Was the skill of the Shepsisters not renowned? He had heard nothing of them acting unprofessionally when a paycheque and deal was involved: apparently that fact was not so.

His shins smacked into something hard and Dora laughed cruelly, hefting him up what felt like a step with the assistance of her sister, not quite able to manhandle the coyote with only one paw. His back was thrust against a rigid, metal pole and his paws were separately cuffed to rings bolted into it about a metre (his best estimate) from the ground. Thus bound, he threw his weight against the bondage, straining with all his might to break free. What a ridiculous show. Muscles screamed and he growled like a wild animal until he could pull no more, collapsing in a panting heap. He hadn't expected the bloody restraints to be so strong! The Shepsisters - and other patrons - laughed.

"Now, now," someone giggled, a female fur. "Seems you've got a feisty one there!"

"Oh, we'll soon knock that out of him," Danica answered.

Yote could hear the smile in her voice.

One of the Shepsisters caressed his muzzle through the bag and he snarled, snapping at the interior yet unable to grip with his teeth in such a way that would allow him to tear free. His knife was unceremoniously removed from its hidden sheath at his calf, and Dora - he thought it was her - meticulously sliced away his clothing, stripping him from muzzle to toe. Turning his muzzle away, the coyote kicked out savagely, halted only by the cold blade of the knife pressing to his throat hard enough to draw a bead of blood, sullying his tan fur. His shirt hung in tatters. Dan gulped.

"Behave."

It was one word from Dora but one word was more than enough. Subdued, Dan leaned against the pole and submitted to the blade, stiffening whenever Dora nicked his skin. It was deliberate. She giggled, tossing the blade away so it landed with a clatter, obnoxiously loud. Dan sighed and lowered his muzzle down to his chest, bare with white fur showing. Even his boxers were gone, but he was no stranger to finding himself without those. He would have to come up with an escape plan shortly.

Someone patted the top of his head firmly.

"Sit tight, dearie," Danica smirked, voice muffled but discernible. "We'll be back in due course. I'm sure you will be duly occupied."

Abruptly, the Shepsisters left, leaving him naked and bound in the middle of the room with strange furs. The coyote's ears flicked, straining to pick up anything unusual, and he tested the limits of the restraints, trying to be as subtle as possible when on such display. He had no idea who was watching. Senses finely tuned to his surroundings, he caught the chatter of other furs and the crack of a whip as another was struck. Cries of pain rang out like music, followed by approving murmurs and encouragement to the one holding the whip. It had to be a bullwhip, Yote thought, and, with a shudder, hoped it was not about to be used on him. The Shepsisters had teased him about such before.

Stiffening, the coyote felt the floor tremor as another - a stranger - approached with slow, careful steps as if they were striving to remain unnoticed. The strange fur chuckled somewhere above his head and Yote felt eyes upon him, two paws spreading over both of his shoulders, squeezing to feel the tight, hard muscle.

"Hm, aren't you a strong one?" The male fur, by the sound of the voice, ran two paws down Dan's chest, resting them at his waist. "Not so big and bad when you're tied up. Bet you paid those fine ladies to abuse you, no?"

"Fuck off."

Voice muffled, Dan thought he had gotten his point across, twisting away from the stranger's paws as they inched dangerously close to his sheath.

"Lacking conviction there, little one." The male laughed throatily and straightened, pulling away from Dan. "Lucky for you, your companions are returning. You have fun now."

He did not want to have fun. The Shepsisters chatted casually between themselves as they strolled up and the coyote's ears pricked. They were wearing boots, one pair with low heels and the other with high, alternating clicking and clacking more lightly across the floor. His heart beat faster and he cursed himself for becoming excited at the most inopportune of times. Certain touches were a wicked weakness.

Pulling the coyote's head back, one of the Shepsisters - whoever was wearing the stiletto heels - yanked the bag off roughly, leaving him blinking dumbly in the dim light. He took a second for his eyes to adjust and jerked his muzzle away, growling like a feral at his captors who wore matching, Cheshire cat grins. That was not all they were wearing either. In the time they had been away, Danica had donned thigh-high latex boots - in black - with a harder, pointed heel and a matching black latex dress with purple accents. It had to sleeves and cut daringly low across the top of her breasts, pushing them up as if proudly. Dora, on the other paw, leaned over the coyote with a smirk, showing off her crimson latex bodysuit with short sleeves, the low-heeled latex boots clinging sensuously to the curve of her calves.

"Isn't it time we were better acquainted, little coyote?" Dora crooned, leaning far over him so that her bosom was amply exposed with the sharp V-cut dipping between them. Dan resisted the urge to scoff.

"Don't fucking call me that."

He shuddered as they laughed, torn between hating and loving how it rang throughout the room, how it made him tremble.

"Oh, you don't have any say in what we call you, you should know that by now," Danica corrected him, stepping up beside her sister so that both German Shepherds towered over him.

"I have a job to do," he muttered. "I don't have time to play your sick games tonight."

"Oh, but we have plenty of time to play our games. In fact, we have all the time in the world."

Dora sank into a crouch, obscene in how she spread her legs, showing the coyote quite clearly the zip between her thighs; he had no doubt what that could be used for, so placed. She arched forward, leaning in so close to the coyote that her breath tickled his ear. He held his breath.

"You almost caused us an expensive disturbance, D.C. Yote," she breathed, voice soft enough that only Yote and she could discern the words. "The target you're after is a very close friend of ours, you could say."

He gulped noisily and Dora giggled, the high pitch of amusement standing in stark contrast to the dark reality of her words.

"We wouldn't have wanted that income source to dry up, that would not do at all," Dora withdrew enough so that Dan could spot her toothy grin. "And we'd much rather he stayed alive, little 'yote. You will not be completing your mission this time."

Eyes going wide, Dan shook his head. It was hopeless. He would be a fool to go against the Shepsisters again, always again. It was not so much the income, he knew, that they so loved but the connections, status and life they lead every single day. And he had almost walked straight through that. The best he could hope for now was that he would still be able to walk when they were done with him. Danica tapped a finger against the side of her muzzle, passing a small toy that Yote could not distinguish back and forth between her paws.

"We'll keep you well occupied here until our friend is well and truly out of your reach," Danica winked. "No one will think to look for you here, of all places."

Dora bounced on the balls of her hind paws and clapped her paws, attracting a glance from other patrons. Looking up with as much subtlety as he could muster, Yote stole a sweeping look about the club, heart sinking. Other furs stood and moved closer, various alcoholic beverages clasped tightly as their interest and ears perked. At another time, he might have been interested in spending the evening with one or two of them (they'd have to buy him a drink first, of course) but not to be put on display.

"Right here?" He glowered, lip curling back derisively.

"Where else, little one?" Danica smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "I'm sure you're well versed in putting on a show."

Kneeling up as tall as he could with the pole pressing between his shoulder blades, the coyote shook his muzzle. So what if the mission failed? He could deal with that problem later and face those repercussions. But he wasn't a toy and he certainly was not going to make it easy for the Shepsisters. Perhaps they would get bored and lock him up for a time instead. That would be less humiliating, if boring.

Tail wagging, Dora unzipped the section between her legs. The interior of the latex was slick with her own juices, the canine's breath coming in short, sharp pants as she sank two fingers into her snatch, bucking up into her own paw. The coyote wondered how long it had been since she had last had pleasure, whether it was a long or short spell of time. She grabbed his muzzle in two paws, rubbing her moisture into his fur, and pulled him closer. To everyone's surprise, Yote jerked his head back, ears flat against his skull. Dora cupped her paw beneath his muzzle, forcing his head up, and met his defiant gaze with a flicker of annoyance.

"I'm not fucking doing it."

The Shepsisters stilled and he thought he had gotten away with it. They could not, would not, do anything with so many witnesses. Triumphantly, Yote raised his muzzle, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Danica raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no," Danica's eyes glittered. "We're not asking you to do anything, mutt. That's not a problem. It's so much more fun to force you."

Oh, fuck.

Twisting her fingers into the thicker fur around the back of the coyote's neck, Dora blew him a kiss and dragged him in, smothering his muzzle in her hot, feminine scent. He squirmed and strove to pull back but she had him in an iron grasp, grinding his nose into her clit with an open-mouthed moan. Strong thighs closed about his head, trapping him in place, and he had no choice but to wrinkle his muzzle, flicking his tongue half-heartedly against the German Shepherd's sex. Each lick brought a fresh taste of arousal and, though he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground beneath his paws, Yote's body reacted, the very act of pleasing a lady making his cock stir.

Something cold brushed his chest, Danica's paws working around her sister, and a sharp pinch erupted from his nipple as something small and hard closed around it. Muzzle stained with feminine arousal, the coyote inhaled sharply and squirmed as the pain flared into a dull throb, the clamp digging in to too sensitive flesh. The audience let out a murmur of appreciation as he twisted, body fighting to escape as Danica held a second, amused by his pain.

"Too much for you, dog? Too bad."

She had no mercy. Stepping around to Dan's other side, Danica pushed his chest back, forcing his back against the pole and leaving him no escape. With that single paw and Dora eagerly humping his muzzle, making the best use of his tongue and lips, the canine swiftly and securely let the clamp close about his other nipple, giving him a matching set for show. Howling into Dora's sex, the coyote arched, tail tucked firmly between his legs and screwed his eyes closed, telling himself that the pain would subside, he just had to ride it out for long enough. Truth be told, the pain did not truly lessen at all, but fell into a dull throbbing that spread outwards from the nipples. Though his eyes watered and he glared at the smirking German Shepherd the best he could with his muzzle in use, Daniel was able to bear it. Just.

Maybe the thrill of the 'chase' had excited Dora, for the coyote could already feel her body heating up beneath the shiny latex. Taking more pleasure from pushing against his muzzle than the activities of his tongue, the canine used his muzzle like a toy, bearing down with her pussy until he pushed his tongue inside, enveloped by her scent. One of her booted hind paws nudged between his legs, teasing up his thigh as she leaned heavily on his head and shoulders, boot trapping his balls against his crotch. The coyote's breath caught in his throat and he tensed, lapping Dora's clit with the urgency of a drowning fur as the pressure and subsequent pain increased.

Suddenly groaning and bucking against the coyote's muzzle like a wild horse, the German Shepherd hit her high with a open-mouthed yelp. Muzzle and chin soaked in the canine's juices, Daniel lapped up all that he could reach, hating how his body glowed at the taste, cock fully on display. Pushing him away when she was quite satisfied, Dora straightened and stretched out her whole body, raising her arms over her head as if to show off her curves and how the latex clung beautifully to them, designed especially for her.

But the coyote was suffering while she enjoyed. Whimpering, Yote looked down at his chest and back up at Dora, pleading with his eyes. The blonde Shepherd swept her blocky fringe off her forehead and growled, juices dripping down the inside of her thighs.

"Please..." He started, shuddering under the increasing pinch of pain.

Dora signed loudly, one paw resting on her hip. Her fingers tapped in rhythm.

"Shut up," Dora said flatly, flushed from her first orgasm and craving more. "You talk too much. Danica, just...give it to me."

"Too noisy for you?" The brunette smirked, brushing the hair off the back of her neck as she handed her sister a small, black ball attached to two straps.

"Like fuck," Dora snorted. "Thought he'd've bloody learned by now."

Yote quailed, fighting to ignore the pain. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Dora's muzzled wrinkled in a sneer and she shoved the small, hard ball between his lips and teeth. Too late, he realised exactly what the object was and mumbled an object as the buckle was fastened snugly at the back of his head. A small padlock clicked closed on the, now evidently, lockable buckle and he suppressed a shiver, the rubber ball secure between his teeth.

Treating the coyote like an object, the Shepsisters moved around him, Dora shifting out of sight - just what was she doing now? Their activities had attracted greater attention and Dan's muzzle warmed in embarrassment, imagining them all commenting on him and what he was being forced to know. Were they in on the Shepsisters' plot? Danica reclaimed his attention with a sharp slap to his muzzle and he jerked, wincing at how the too swift motion caused the skin to pull at the clamps. Closing her paw around his throat hard enough to make him fear for his ability to breathe, Danica leaned over him and released his cuffed paws from the pole, maintaining eye contact all the while.

"Get down if you know what's good for you," she said, pointing to the ground.

He understood that command too well and what would happen if he did not obey. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yote did as ordered, dropping to all fours and waiting. The bartender grinned at him, a tall equine polishing a glass, before returning to his work and the coyote whimpered softly, unable to find any distraction from his hard shaft and cruelly inflicted pain. Danica busied herself around him, slipping four cuffs around his ankles and wrists - worn, sturdy leather - and similarly chaining them to D-rings set in the floor at such a length that he had some range of motion but could, most noticeably, not move his legs any closer together. He tested the limits of the chains with a whimper, spreading his limbs apart for comfort even as he sensed the eyes of the club upon him, observing every inch of his show. Something slick pressed to his tail hole - a paw - and nudged two digits inside, spreading a cool, viscous substance within. He groaned and Dora giggled behind him.

"I'm sure you haven't been stretched out in a while, Yote," Danica chuckled. "But Dora will take care of that."

Though he did not dare turn his head to see it, he felt Dora press the length of a large, thick dildo between his rump cheeks, sliding it back and forth as if she was taking physical pleasure from the act. Of course, she favoured double-ended strap-on toys, so it was likely that she was enjoying herself from more than the dominance alone. She grunted over him, placing the head at his tail hole and holding on to his hips tightly - claws pricking through fur and skin - in an attempt to push in.

"Ugh, why are you so tight?" Dora complained, giving a sharp thrust of her hips to force the fat head of the toy inside her victim. "Surely you've been raising your tail for everyone at base, we know your kind."

The canine brought her paw down on the coyote's rump in a sharp slap that made him yelp into the gag, jerking against the cuffs holding him firmly in place. It had been so long since he had been filled and he bowed his muzzle, paws curling into fists, trying to relax, to make it easier on himself. Again, she lifted her paw and struck the fleshier part of his buttocks, ramming the full length of the smooth dildo in at the same time. Gritting his teeth against the ball gag, Daniel withheld a howl, overcome by the multitude of sensations, hitting him from every direction.

"Oh, I like that," Dora laughed. "You clench so beautifully when you're spanked. Do it again."

Without waiting for a response - not that one was forthcoming - the canine slapped the coyote's muscled backside twice quickly, using both paws to distribute the spanks. Gasping and arching forward as if to escape, Yote rattled the chains and whined pitifully, his backside taking on a warm glow as he was repeatedly spanked. The strap-on toy plunged deeply into his tail hole throughout, picking up pace and intensity in time with Dora's laboured breathing. She was fit. She was not breathing hard because she was truly out of breath, he knew.

Crouching in front of the coyote, Danica pulled his muzzle into her breasts where the dress cut low, directing his muzzle so that she used him, in a sense, to massage her breasts. Despite not objecting hugely to this treatment, Yote whined as her paws stroked his bare throat, sharp nails tracing up the sensitive flesh. Pounding into his rear, Dora barked sharply, putting on a show for their spectators who openly shouted their appreciation, raising a toast to the German Shepherd's skill. Dora thrust and bucked like a male that had been kept pent up for weeks, her lips parted and light glancing off the shiny latex outfit as she pounded, a long, low moan escape her muzzle as she reached her second orgasm of the evening, not to be the last. Free paw wrapped around his member as she pressed closer to the coyote, Danica stroked languidly, enough to give him a taste of pleasure but no more. Maybe she'd let him cum in a few days, if he was good enough.

Maybe.

Letting Dora have her fun and afterglow, the blonde canine still grinding to drink deep of the last drops of pleasure, Danica withdrew, leaving a whimpering coyote drooling pre cum on to the stage. The German Shepherd smiled to herself as she accepted a pawful of items from one of the many club assistants - she had asked the small fox to source something for her, some items she particularly desired. Glancing back at the needy Yote, her friend and his target raising his glass to her from the crowd, she could not help but think that taking the job for Yote had been nothing but a bonus to them.

The brunette canine flicked her hair back over her shoulder and adjusted her dress, beckoning to the golden jackal to come up to the stage, his knotted cock pushing out of his trousers. Danica grinned as he stepped up to Dora, exchanging caresses and kisses as the canine generously allowed him use of the coyote she had loosened up for him. And still, he had no idea what was to transpire - that was the beauty of the moment. The assistant offered her a lighter and she tipped the red candle, allowing the wick to catch. She was sure the dog would squirm wonderfully when it dripped on to his fur in a perfect exchange for the clamps being removed: fair was fair after all. Taking the supplied riding crop in paw and lit candle in another, wax pooling in the hollow around the wick, Danica faced the coyote, who looked up apprehensively, cock stiff. She smirked.

"I hope you like pain, little coyote. It's going to be a long mission for you."