The Promotion
A low-level human employee at a business in the anthrostate is desperate for a promotion. He needs the extra hours and pay. What will he do for his hyena boss to secure that promotion?
The Promotion
Heat gathered once more, but this time, lower than your chest. It surged through your body and accumulated in a familiar place. Sweat broke your brows as Elena pulled your face from the fur above her breasts.
She giggled, “What’s the matter, sweet stuff? Can’t handle what I’m offering?”
You shake your head, licking the faint cinnamon hint of her scent from your lips, “You’re a furnace!” A smile breaks your features, “I can handle it.”
A large, toothy grin meets you in response: “I like a brave skinnie,” and it turns almost malicious as she lifts several dense, glinting claws. “But can you handle these?”
A surge of fear, anticipation, and desire flashes through your mind, and you nod. With no further words, she pushes you down and onto the office floor, “I’ll apologize now for the hard floor—don’t have any mats in this office.”
She pushes the pad of a finger onto your lips as you go to speak, “But don’t worry, you’ll forget about that.”
Her skin tastes of spice and wild heat, complemented by her cinnamon scent. You’re not sure if it’s artificial or natural, but you like it all the same. She stands over you, her eight-foot height even more imposing when you lie beneath her. She puts each digitigrade paw on either side of your head, her smile lascivious as her descent begins.
The lights above, that annoying buzzing of fluorescent bulbs, is drowned out, not by sound, but by her sheer presence. Her gray eyes never break contact with yours as you struggle to maintain contact over the luscious curves of her amazonian body and sizable breasts.
A furnace kisses your face, her once subtle scent so thick it clouds your mind, making your cock jerk against your jeans—still trapped, but begging for release. She laughs, pushing a claw to her twitching nose, “I can smell your desire, human. I’ve known you wanted this since you began working here six months ago.”
You try to answer, but the slick lips of her pussy drop onto yours. Fuck, she’s wet.
“Lick,” her half snarl orders, claws pressing into your scalp, and you obey.
You press the broad, flat of your tongue against her, feeling the pulse of her heat and pounding heart through her desire. You push in and slide towards her clit. The velvet of her thighs and pussy feels pleasant against your skin, and the musk only fuels your desperate thirst.
“Yes,” she hisses and grinds into your mouth and nose, “This is exactly what you humans are made for. Worshipping your superiors with your sweet little mouths,”
Your senses are overwhelmed by her taste: earthy, spicy, live fire, with a fitting cinnamon undertone that suits the coming holidays. Your nose is buried in her pubic fluff, nearly burning with her musk—so thick it complements her taste.
“Fuck,” her muzzle twists into a snarl, “Get your tongue inside, now!”
You trail down her inner lips, the texture plump and alive, until your tongue meets the strongest source of her ambrosia yet. Before you can initiate the next step, she slams down hard, forcing you to spear her molten core.
Ribbed. Pulsing to her heart. The taste is nearly overwhelming, but in a way that makes you desire more. You push your chin forward, seeking the source of the ambrosia she feeds you. You explore, feeling every ridge and bump, listening to and feeling her reactions.
She starts to grind in small circular motions, smearing your face with heated slick. Searing pain pricks into your scalp at several points as she curls her fingers through your hair.
“Fuck yes! Good little human, good!”
You pull your tongue out, fighting the pull of her pussy as it fights your resistance. With a wet pop and splatter of hot fluids, you swallow what’s accumulated so far before resuming your task.
You’re not sure how long this has been going on, but all you can taste, smell, and sense is her heat. Live and spicy. She yanks your hair, drawing a gasp from your lips, “When I cum, you drink everything your superior gifts you!”
You’re not given the chance to respond as her pussy smears over your lips, and you attack her clit, cheeks hollowing with the amount of suction you’re applying. Her gasps and shudders turn to low growls; her face twisted in a way that would scare you if you didn’t know it was unfiltered pleasure.
“Cumming!”
Her own word is followed by a broken half-whine, half-growl, and a surge of thicker, spicier fluids released into your mouth. Your throat works to keep up with the velvet heat sliding down into your core, cheeks lightly bulging at the volume. Some spill escapes from around your sealed lips, but not much.
With a final shudder, she slumps off to the side, breathing as if she ran a marathon, then laughs as you gasp in fresh air, “Good boy. Good boy.”
You wipe your soaked face with a sleeve of your work uniform. “So… about that promotion?”
She chuckles in that typical hyena fashion. Shrill, sharp, fearsome.
“Don’t worry your heart my little pet, it’s yours,” your smile is broken as she continues, “But,” she slides closer to you, running a claw over your clavicle, pushing in enough to break skin, leaving a shallow bead of blood as she trails towards the hollow above your sternum, “This will be happening more if you want to keep the position.”
You sputter, grimacing at the searing burn of her claw separating your flesh in a shallow cut, “That...” You reconsider your following words and simply nod once. Her claw stops, and she leans in, her eyes never leaving yours as her rough tongue runs over the bloody trail left behind by her natural weapon.
With a smack of her lips, she lifts herself and holds out a paw, which you use to pull yourself up. She pushes her lips into your forehead and steps towards the already prepared first aid kit on her desk, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Those shelves won’t stock themselves.”
You sigh, secretly looking forward to more.