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The room was swamped in heavy musk. The stench of cum, lube, sweat and goodness knows what else just oozed through the air like syrup, coating everything until you felt just dirty standing there. It was an assault to the senses, the very taste crawling up your tongue no matter how hard you tried to spit it out, slithering down your throat with one hefty swallow until there was nothing else but the scent. Primal and raw, something darker than what was comfortable, something sleazier than what was natural, there was no escape as it consumed everything in that dark, drab motel room.

Simon loved it. Every second he sat there in the wicker chair just breathing deeply, eyes fixated upon the bed, he could feel his body responding to the stimulus. He had long since acclimatised to the smell, moved beyond the repulsion any sane individual might have, and embraced the nasty elements he lived for. The lion allowed himself to bathe in it all, moving past the smell and onto the sounds, so delicate and exquisite yet each an orchestra's worth of need in his ears. His own breathing harder to his head, but joined by the more ragged, laboured pants of another, someone who sounded as if they were gagged - not that it surprised him, he'd been the one to gag them. From there the noises became more intermittent, more indeterminable from where they'd come next. Sometimes it'd be the creak of rope, knots tightening as limbs fought against the restraints Simon had bound them in, other times it would be the clatter of metal for much the same reason. Occasionally he'd hear a snort, a gargled moan that was indistinguishable from pleasure or pain, coming from the poor mutt tied to the bed's headboard, but it was brief and never lasted. Every time it rang out though his body reacted in the most carnal of ways; his dick throbbing as it strained with his pulse, his muscles twitching as they begged him to rise up and claim what was he, his chest seizing as he sat enthralled with the enchanting sounds. Nothing could get him harder than the pitiful cries of prey waiting to be taken.

The sight was something else entirely, as he glowered across the room from his vantage point. He knew his own physique far too well, and so could expect what the mutt saw bound to his spot. The lion was a broad man, built like the proverbial brickhouse; his limbs were thick like trunks, muscles honed from tireless workouts, all belied by the beginnings of a gut thanks in part to a career trucking on the long haul. His fur was dense where it thickened, his mane not entirely well kept but neat enough for his liking. The stagnant air was doing him now favours though, and the longer he sat there doing nothing but observing, the more he felt swathed in the sticky, hot feeling. But as a powerful, prideful lion, he was a glorious giant compared to the meek thing that quivered upon the bed. His companion for the evening, an average looking mutt he'd picked up along the road, was looking worse for wear more than the big cat.

As soon as they had entered the room, he had had the boy strip. Names didn't matter, though he was sure he'd introduced himself as 'Martin', and he'd inspected his bitch for the night there and then. He was such a promising specimen. He had shivered and trembled beneath the lion's groping, invasive touch but stood still to the spot as Simon examined him. The boy was well trained; it wasn't his first rodeo, which just made the lion all the more harder at the thought of having something skilled to work with. His fur was plump and soft under his fingertips, greys and blacks mixing upon the arms and legs, until it blended to cream across his chest and muzzle. Thicker feathering of brown on his forelimbs matched the same upon his head, and that tail had flicked anxiously even as Simon had grasped it in one paw and lifted it aside to expose the mutt's cheeks. His cock was nothing to be impressed about, fairly normal in length, perhaps with a little more girth than most, but he had been more interested in the boy's hole - he'd left that aching prick of the mutt's tightly bound in rope, give the little bitch something to whine about as he struggled. Even with probing fingers testing the mutt's limits, it had been clear he was no amateur to being stretched. So Simon had tied him up, wrists bound in rope to the headboard, a collar slipped around his neck, and a spreader bar between his ankles to keep those legs apart. Of course he hadn't forgotten the gag, he wasn't looking for a running commentary of 'yes sir' to grace his evening, but he had still wanted to use the mutt's throat if he so desired, so out had come the ring gag. It now sat tightly fastened around the mutt's skull, leather straps digging into his cheeks, drool dripping down his chin and a soft, pink tongue just waggling aimlessly inside for all to see. It was cute, in a perverted way, to see that waiting mouth that just begged to be filled. He'd get to that later, he supposed. Rather the lion wanted full access to the bitch's hole, which led him to fitting a short length of rope to the collar and the bar respectively, forcing the mutt to hold those legs back by his own power. He had toyed with the boy a little after that, bringing out the sloppiest lube he could find to finger that exposed hole, working it open just a touch so that it would gape lewdly to the sweaty air, squelching and farting in the wet mess of fluids that matted the mutt's rump.

And that was how Simon had left him, frustrated and whimpering as his body convulsed upon the bed. The lion watched that hole clench and relax, still yawning back at him with a maw of slime, his eyes greedily eating up the scene that lay before him. The mutt would occasionally jostle, perhaps it was because he was growing uncomfortable in the prolonged position or maybe the sapping cold of the lube was a stark contrast to the swarming air leaving him to shudder, but Simon did nothing to help him or take action. Captured in the backdrop of some sleazy motel room he'd booked for barely anything, it was a sordid sight to see. He knew damn well that Martin was looking right back at him, sometimes glancing elsewhere, a grimace flashing across his face as he worked his sore jaw, always returning though to stare at the feline with pathetic neediness. Probably trying to convey some message, a plea perhaps to some small fragment of leniency, but all the same Simon ignored him.

Touch was another matter. Simon had forced himself apart from the scene, but from the first moments he remembered the feel of the mutt's fur against his fingertips, the supple muscle and flesh beneath the coat that shook as he staked his claim to them. But for as much as reminded himself how delicate and untainted the boy might have felt to his own paw, Simon had darker ideas in mind. He couldn't help but contemplate how the mutt felt on the inside. He wondered how the walls of Martin's guts might feel as he groped his fingers along them, plunging deeper until he was touching places very few others had touched before. Would it feel slimy? Would it be warm? Could he feel the mutt's pulse patter with his heartbeat as the lion worked open his hole? So many thoughts of what it would feel like, with only one conclusion to reach; if he were ever to find out, he would have to find out for himself.

It left only taste to Simon's imagination, and with that notion he finally rose from his seat, standing bare-chested at the side of the room towering over the bed and looking down at his prize. He caught his reflection in the corner of his eye, a tall mirror screwed to one wall that flashed with his movement. The man that stared back at him was rugged - or rather, he liked to think so. Whilst he sat on his ass for much of the day hauling load from one country to the next, one destination after another, the feline was in remarkably good shape thanks to discipline. It was hard not to just give in to all the junk food he could hoard in his glovebox or indulge in the greasy diners down the breadth of the road. Muscles were thick beneath the short pelt of his fur, moving seamlessly beneath the skin as he patiently walked around the bed. His gut preceded him however; all the diligence and willpower in the world couldn't deny the fact he did very little in his cabin aside from maybe a passing hiker's willing tongue on his dick, so over the years a belly had accumulated beneath the fat. Nothing anyone would gawp at, but it still showed its presence with a bulge. He kept his stare fixed on his face in his reflection. Part of him preferred to think he cut a stern look. His mane was well kept but dark in the shadows, his eyes had that piercing quality he'd seen in plenty of other men, and if he grimaced just right he could turn a scintillating smile into a gruesome grimace, all it took was a snarl to his muzzle and he went from pleasant straight to tyrannical in one expression.

Looking down at the mutt on the bed, he felt his cock swell harder. It had been difficult not to get erect the very moment Simon knew he'd snagged his bitch, but he'd refused to touch it so he could prolong the session, his fat length pulsing with every heavy beat of his heart, barbs prickling to the open air. He didn't doubt the mutt had probably seen bigger, but that wasn't a concern to him. Deep in his head, he was convinced he could have the mutt screaming for both joy and mercy and he'd get there within the hour if he so pleased. He wanted to take his time.

"You remember the deal now, kid," he announced aloud, finally breaking the cold silence that had smothered the room, "Little slut? Y'know what I'm gonna do to you."

The engine still chugged idly as the truck sat in its spot at the lay-by, having pulled up mere moments ago as quietly as it could through the darkened countryside. Rather uncommonly two occupants sat within its cabin as the driver reached for the keys in the ignition, fat fingers curling round the keychain that jostled about with the heavy thrums of the engine turning over. However what was more unusual about the situation was not that the truck had brought two along for the ride, but that only one of them belonged there. A reality which was all too well coming into stark clarity for the pair as driver turned to passenger with a lurid leer upon his muzzle, cigar plump between snarling lips and yellowed fangs bared as he spoke around it,

"You know the deal, kid: once the engine's off, you don't get no chance to go," with his spare meaty paw, he picked the cigar from his mouth, lifting it away and blowing a thick, choking smog around his companion for the ride who promptly coughed at the plume, "Take off now or else I get to do whatever the hell I want with that pretty body of yours."

The passenger in question was a particularly unfortunate mutt who'd found himself stranded along a back-route between cities with a busted car and no hope of rescue. What kind of man would the trucker have been had he simply left the poor boy to cook in the middle of nowhere? He sat next to him now, positively dwarfed in the lorry's gigantic seats - built rather for men like himself - looking perhaps not frightened but anxious, his gaze carefully assessing the situation. He couldn't blame him to be fair, it had been incredibly forward of him to suggest that Martin, if he'd heard his name right, could pay him back in other ways than just cash. If he was honest, the only thing on his mind when he'd picked up the hitchhiker-by-circumstance was what a sweet ass he had and how he couldn't wait to wreck it. But he felt mean, certainly for forcing the poor little boy's paw, and so relented when the mutt voiced shaky protest. A deal was a deal, once they arrived where he needed to be, the mutt could either turn tail and run free of charge, or he could stick around and let his saviour take his repayment.

"Well?" Simon asked, fingers tightening around the key, "What's it gonna be?"

He already knew the answer. Boy's like Martin were plain as day to read. They might like to act like such civil, mild-mannered folk but deep down they were as filthy as they come. Even just chatting to the mutt had slowly revealed what a dirty bitch the boy was that he may as well have been a pig for all the shit he'd done. Simon had felt his fat cock throb in his sweaty sheath when Martin had casually announced he wrote pornos. Well, something to that effect, he was basically the mind behind some of Simon's most favourite films, from 'Clubbers' to 'Daddy Issues'. It paved the way for Simon to not too subtly suggest the mutt might repay him for letting him tag along. As the trucking motto always goes, you pay in gas, grass, or ass - and the lion was sure as well which he was looking to get tonight.

The mutt made no move to get out of the truck. He didn't say a word, merely a gulp of what must have been anxiety, but he remained stock still, very nearly rigid in his seat as the air between them pulsed with filthy intentions.

Simon's muzzle curled into a crude smile. His paw twisted the key, the truck trundled to a deathly stop and the engine died. The deal was sealed.

A small nod from the mutt coaxed out the same smile to his face, one which he'd tried to keep as fixed and managed as he could until now. Kneeling onto the bed he could feel his whole body just swell with not with glee but with lust - something unbridled and unchecked, a runaway reaction that scorched through him until he felt as if he was brimming with testosterone.

The bed dipped with his weight, sagging as one knee joined the other, shuffled across the spread until he was at the mutt's upturned backside. Beady eyes followed him, but Simon wasn't interested in meeting the boy's gaze. He kept his own stare fixed quite lustily on that hole. As he squatted down on his haunches, Simon could almost feel and smell the ass, the heat that radiated from the mutt's exposed body, his wet flesh just waiting for him, and the potent stench of lube and something muskier. He licked his lips just thinking about it, reaching across the bedspread to the bottle of thick, runny ooze that he'd already emptied some of into Martin's bowels. Tipping out the contents, he let a viscous strand of the gloop string around his paw, winding it across his fingers as Simon slathered himself up. He wanted to get nice and wet, sloppy enough so that by the time the sun rose the next morning he could slip in and out of his boy without so much as a singular grunt from either of them.

"I don't care if you keep real quiet now or scream out loud. Either way, there's no stopping me, you hear?"

The mutt didn't answer even with the gag in his mouth. He didn't grunt or groan, whimper or whine. There was just a dull acceptance behind his eyes which was all Simon needed to go ahead. Reaching down, he pressed his lubed up fingers to the hole and pushed. Three went in easily, a fourth added with just a little squeeze, but really it was nothing. Martin was already stretched so wide that Simon realised it wouldn't take long at all until he could push his whole paw in and go deeper. Warm lube pushed up around his fingers as he eased the four digits in and out slowly, taking his time and relishing the sensation. The wet flesh felt malleable around his paw, soft and spongy like it was nothing but meat to be tenderised. Occasionally the mutt's body would resist, whether by impulse or intention he wouldn't know, but the muscles were too fatigued to do any real work. They'd been pushed open and forced to adjust, nothing but a mild inconvenience as the boy's hole tried to constrict around Simon's knuckles. The sound was divine though; a sickly, unearthly squelch as fluids sank deeper into the body they'd been poured into and lined the walls with goo until every inch was salaciously silky. The lion just kept massaging his paw in and out of the hole as he just took in the feeling of smoothness and moist tissue.

"All slicked up with no place to go," he mumbled to himself, "Feels like I'm burying my paws into oil."

Martin's eyes rolled into the back of his head as Simon moved to slide both his paws into the hole, still keeping himself to just the four fingers on each side, slipping them against one another back and forth as he eased himself apart. The mutt's hole was beginning to stretch out wider now, becoming looser and looser the more he toyed with it. He was sure the poor boy was frustrated, feeling his guts opening up with nothing to do but lie back and accept it. The lion couldn't help but lick his lips again, his throat going a little dry as the excite got to him, rising up in his chest as he felt powerful just using the body before him like a personal play thing.

"Gods, it's so hot, feel how fucking loose you are."

He wasn't even lying. There was plenty of room now for him to get his whole paw inside, it was only his thumb that kept the rest of it out, buried up to the knuckles and bubbled with foamy lube around his digits. Simon could feel his dick throb again as he rotated inside that open hole, wiggling his fingers as he took his free paw and gave his member a rough stroke. At this point he was just biding his time, letting his pet stew for longer and longer, every second turning into a minute and then an hour as he toyed with its gaping hole. He wanted nothing more than to bury his dick into its sloppy depths and fuck it senseless until he'd bred the bitch over and over. But that would be too easy and too fast. They'd be done in the hour, and though Simon could shoot for days even he knew his limits, so it boiled down to taunting the mutt and enjoying himself, two things that went paw in paw for the burly lion.

Just a quick dip, it wouldn't hurt...

"Fuck yeah."

Simon pulled his paws free from the sloppy hole; one steadying himself by grabbing onto one of the mutt's bound legs, the other taking a hold of his fat cock and slapping it against the gasping opening. The slick sounds of each smack rang in the air between them, but the lion was already manoeuvring himself to get a better angle as his barbed head pressed at the mutt's rim. With a soft groan on his part, and perhaps something of a garbled grimace for Martin, the heavy lion eased his cock into the wet, warm depths of his ass.

It felt luxurious, not because it was good to stick his dick into some bitch's hole, but because it was as if he were sliding against liquid silk. There was positively no friction, just the glorious gliding sensation and enveloping heat that sucked around his cock. Simon purred from the pit of his chest, teeth bared and head tilted back with his eyes shut whilst he just focused on that simple feeling of gooey heaven. Only did he stop when his balls rested upon the mutt's tailbase, nestled in the soaked fur, the journey inwards having been met with absolutely no resistance. Martin, gagged as he was, just groaned with his eyes closed, clearly the feeling for him was one less of hot wetness and more of intrusion and displacement. Lube would have been pushed deeper into him, if not spurting around the lion's cock against his rim, and the sensation must have been alien. But Simon didn't care; he let go off the mutt's leg and took his other paw away from his member and reached up to his own nipples with sloppy paws. He rocked his hips back and forth whilst he tweaked at his buds, growling and snarling into empty air as he savoured the feeling. It was nothing extraneous, just an easy motion that could ease his dick in and out of that gloopy hole at his own leisure, giving him the chance to just revel his selfish sensations.

"Oh fuck yeah..." His voice was slurring, a purr crawling about his chest, "Oh fuck yeah, boy..."

Sometimes he would pinch his nipples harder, sometimes he'd pull his hips back just a bit further so he could enjoy the plunge inside all the more, but eventually his paws began to wander his own body. He groped his own form, one paw running over the bulge of his gut, whilst the other caressed his chest, rubbing across his heart and to his other shoulder. His eyes were still shut, his mouth agape as he relished in the nasty feelings, all the while exploring his own body like it was new ground to scope out. The very strength behind his weight, the muscles that formed the hard layer over his belly, the thick fur of his coat, it made him feel very much alive and very much a man. There was power, something unbridled and sexy, that seemed to flare and churn inside him the more he lingered on the feeling. His dick throbbed at the mere glimpse that flashed across his nerves, tendrils of this raw masculinity and lust sliding its way through every vessel in his being until not a single fibre was left untouched.

"You're fucking mine, ya hear me?" The mutt couldn't answer, not even if he wanted to, but that didn't matter to the lion. He wanted to say it all aloud for himself to hear, so establish both in voice as much in feeling that he was the one in charge, "You're my little toy to play with. I'm gonna shape you into my little bitch, until all you'll ever want to do is serve me."

There was a whimper from Martin, but there wasn't a look of rejection in his eyes, or any sort of fear. Acceptance perhaps might have been a better word for his gaze, but Simon couldn't settle on that. It was something different, something unspeakably submissive that it didn't seem to matter what it was. The mutt had assented to the situation, and he was more than prepared to proceed, endure, and suffer for it.

Simon removed his cock from the boy's hole, the loud slurp of wet flesh erupting from wetter guts heavy in the air. The feeling was very nearly like trying to pull himself free from glue, the lube had become that thick and sloppy inside him, but the lion only purred to himself more contently. He shuffled back and sat upon his haunches, getting into a position where he was more on level with the mutt's upturned ass than he had been before. The bottle of lube was brought over, and Simon draped a long, trailing cord of the goo around one paw, wrapping it round and round in quick circles until it was coated in the stuff. Discarding the bottle on the bed, the big cat swiftly turned his attention to the waiting hole before him. His soaked paw reached out to trace the edges of Martin's puffy rim, the ring of muscle tensing and unclenching before his very eyes, yielding to his very touch, before he finally put his fingers to the opening. His fingertips dug in, the hole's resistance worn away, and forming a smoother shape with his fist, Simon pushed inside.

Immediately Martin's ass opened up beautifully to his paw. The smaller male grunted, eyes screwed shut, his jaw clenching down upon the gag, and limbs pulling at every binding holding him fast. There was nothing to be done as Simon exerted his will freely and lewdly, his eyes eating up the repulsive sight of the mutt's hole swallowing his fist. The rim stretched around his paw, working its way past every knuckle until it reached the widest breadth, before continuing up further, sucking up to the lion's wrist once the widest had been gulped down whole. There was an indeterminable scream from the mutt, a strangled sob that failed to make it past the gag, and his whole body flexed and shook as his guts were invaded. Simon smiled to himself; a cock must have been easy for someone as slutty as the boy, but taking a fist was a different matter altogether. As he swayed his paw around inside, slowly moving in fluid motions, he watched the mutt tremble and buck beneath the weight of the all too wrong feelings.

It was so plainly unnatural to have something so large and crude as a fist inside one's ass. The paw wasn't shaped for penetration. Fingers were convenient for stretching, for prying, for opening up and reaching those delicate sweet spots, both in men and women. But the fist in its entirety, with every knuckle, digit, joint and palm, it was far too bulky and far too irregular for smooth sailing. Simon began to twist is wrist, turning his paw within the mutt's silky guts, eliciting such pained moans from him as he worked the bitch over; no, the fist was a blunt instrument not meant for any form of entry. But that's what Simon loved about fisting. When he found a boy like Martin who was prepared to give him what he wanted, anything that he wanted, with an ass that was no stranger to taking whatever it was given, the lion indulged himself. He could only imagine how the mutt must have been feeling, to have every bump scrape against his sensitive walls, to feel them close in around an object too large to be inside him, unable to expel the invading fist no matter what he did - his rim pulsed and throbbed so uselessly against the lion - it must have been hell.

For Simon though the feeling was starkly different. He was dipping his paw into hot lava, it felt like. How sticky yet gooey it felt, how soft and smooth yet irresistibly wet. His paw swam in an ocean of lube within the mutt's guts, but it wasn't enough. Simply owning the male's hole wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He wanted to go deeper; he wanted the mutt to be wider. He wanted his little bitch to gape wide for him and only beg for more.

He pulled his paw free and moved so that he could poise his other to take its place. Again the squelch of lube and a rush of farting air burst out of the mutt's hole as the paw finally broke free. It all came too suddenly as the widest part of his fist left the rim, expelled by its own size by the natural push. Martin's body clenched down upon that sensation, the expression etched across his face. Simon watched as the feeling of something big leaving his body tricked the mutt into bearing down on his guts, lube pouring from the gaping hole and dripping to the bed. But for the lion, this was good. He seized the opportunity and pushed in immediately with his second paw, using the mutt's muscles to his advantage and already pushing deeper than the first had. A startled, airless grunt snorted in Martin's nose before it was already too late. Simon had plunged his fist deeper, further past the wrist, travelling up the lion's thick forearm.

There was a panicked squirm, more straining against his bonds, but Martin was trapped at the lion's behest whilst the big cat had his wicked way with him. His chest heaved as he panted with eyes wide as he watched, but Simon couldn't have cared less. He was already slamming his paw in deeper than before, licking his lips as he felt that hole gobble up his fist and then some, that stretched, raw rim pushing up his arm. It was intoxicating to watch, another lifeform bending to his will, making room for his own body like it was meant, like Simon didn't just own him but belonged to him.

"Fuck yeah," he repeated, a murmur to his own consciousness, "Fuck yeah, take it. Open up for me, boy."

The paw was withdrawn, replaced yet again with the first immediately as soon as it had left the mutt's yawning hole. Martin didn't even get a chance to mewl as Simon plugged him deeper still, travelling further up the forearm and edging towards the elbow. The body bound beneath him, exposed for his pleasure and opening up around his fist, was shaking like a leaf, the feeling all too raw and real for him, the intensity bearing down. But Simon wasn't finished; there would be no breaks, no respite. He wouldn't let Martin have a moment to himself until he was satiated. Only then would he consider letting the mutt relax. His fist dug deeper into the boy's guts, feeling and working his way through the constricting passage of internal flesh as he bore a path. His fingers probed and scaled the area as he fished, feeling the lube line his way like a slippery torrent. It was mesmerising to have that sensation of cascading wetness in a near ceaseless flood. The warmth of the mutt's insides, the tightness that hugged his fist, the moist passage, it drew him in until finally resistance began to kick in. For as much as Martin was stretched wide, even he had a breaking point, as facts of biology took over. But Simon was in deep, deep enough that when he moved his paw around he could see the bulge in the mutt's stomach swirl in unison, and he grinned at that. He was claiming the mutt in the nastiest of ways and he loved it.

Simon made the pull out as slow and steady as he could, careful not to damage his bitch - there was no good in tearing anything now, rendering the mutt unusable for the rest of the evening. They had a long night ahead of them and he wasn't prepared to risk it all for impatience.

"You better get used to this, boy," Simon announced, just as his paw pulled free from the ruined hole, his fingers dripping in soiled lube, "We've got a lot more ass-play to get through before I'm even ready to call it a night."

He hooked his fingers around the mutt's rim and pulled them apart, expanding the ring of wrecked muscle and seeing how much his hole could stretch. The fisting so far had worked beautifully; Simon marvelled at the sight of the gaping hole just brimming with lube as he opened it up. Darker rosy flesh pulsed and quivered inside as it dripped with foggy white fluids, every single flex of those inner walls squelching and churning the mess that swam inside. Eventually he let go, letting the rim slip shut again as best it could, though by this point 'closed' meant Simon could still see the oozing depths inside no matter how much it seemed the mutt tightened his hole. Perhaps it was three fingers wide, at the very least two, but the lion knew he was deceptively stretchy, and looser than he appeared. Some men would have found it a turn off, the usual cliché of a sausage down a hallway sprung to mind, but for the lion it was heaven. He didn't need the tightest of sluts to get him off. Just something warm, wet, and willing was all it took for him to plough home, but there was something more than that. It was the manipulation of the boy's body, controlling and shaping him into a vessel for his meat, unable to act or react. It was depraved almost. The mutt was just an object to be used, filled, and then used all over again. Any qualms he'd forgone when he'd stepped up into the lion's cabin all that time ago back on the road.

"Look at you, desperate little bitch." Simon stroked a lube-soaked finger along the mutt's shaft, his fingertip bumping every time he came to a cord that wound around the straining flesh. Martin's body jostled feverishly as finally some stimulation came through his agony, blissful and overwhelming, his eyes wide and pleading, "You know I'm not gonna let you cum, right?" The mutt's head shook 'no', his eyes screamed. It was almost akin to some genuine fear. "Yeah, that's right. Only I'm getting off tonight. Although if you're good..." He trailed off, not finishing the sentence. He didn't really need to, the lion felt. The little bitch was already putty in his paws. He'd do whatever the feline asked and more, without hesitation. Simon scooped his claws across the mutt's tip, dragging up just a hint of pre that was drooling from his urethra. He brought those drenched fingers up to Martin's open, unresisting mouth and forced them deep inside, pushing his tongue out the way and driving them down the boy's throat. There was a gag, some choking, and an attempt to spit the lion back up, but his paw was stronger and remained, forcing him to adjust and to cope around the fingers that now slide down his throat, "Yeah, taste yourself, ain't that nice?"

In reality he knew it could be anything but; the pre was just the tiniest droplet, compared to the copious lube that had been soaking in the mutt's guts for goodness knows how long. It must have tasted vile as Simon forced the boy to gulp and suckle down the sullied fluids. It was, as he said though, just a taster. When the lion was done, he'd have the boy lick every inch of him clean from dirtied lube and spent seed until he and the room were spotless. But all in good time...

He moved his cock back up into place once more. It was getting too much to just deny himself any longer. As much as he loved to watch the hole open up for him, to stretch and wrap around his body like a deformed puppet, he was still a male with balls that needed to get off. Simon slapped his member against the gaping hole, the wet slicks filling the air before he snarled. Just like before there wasn't a moment's resistance as he slid himself back into that hole, wiggling his fingers deep inside the mutt's throat as he entered both passages. Lube squelched to accommodate him, but the stretching had worked a treat, and now Simon could fuck the little bitch without even feeling the slightest contraction tighten around him. It was smoother than smooth, his mind again only able to compare to sensation to runny oil, warm and wet.

Martin grunted and groaned again beneath him, but with every limb restrained he was but a passenger to the lion's whims. With dark eyes Simon just savoured the sight before him as he began to work his hips backwards and forwards, taking note of the strangled look upon the mutt's face, tongue working around his paw that stretched wide his gagged maw, his chest heaving with every pant and muffled gasp, that pathetic little cock of his twitching as sensation finally returned to his ass, and finally that soaking hole just swallowing down his flesh. The mutt was his, and Simon was more than ready to breed him.

He drew his hips back fully, his barbs gliding and cutting lines through the swamp of lube, before only the tip remained kissing up to that swollen rim.

"Fuck yes!"

Slamming down hard, he gave no attention to the yelps and garbled screams of the mutt who he drove in to. The boy was just a hole to be filled now, a hole to be opened and abused like any other, and the lion fucked him without remorse. He'd been gentle up until now, as gentle as he could have been considering the circumstances, but the patience for care had since fizzled out into nothing, leaving only behind a vacuum to be filled with burning lust. Driving himself in deep, Simon growled and finally pulled his paw free from the mutt's maw, dripping less so with lube and now coated in spittle. Somewhere in the back of his head he heard the boy gasp for air, finally not being suffocated by obstructing fingers, but it didn't matter to Simon as he grabbed those ankles once more for support. His body worked in a tandem to pull and push the male's body away and towards him just as he thrust his cock deep into his stretched hole. Sometimes Simon thought he would grind against the prostate, judging by how the mutt flailed in his bindings, but he didn't really care enough to give him the pleasure. If he did hit the mutt's sweet inner spot, it would be purely by coincidence. The lion just wanted to get deeper, to feel that hole engulf him and smother his crotch.

By now the wet sounds of lube sucking and bubbling had filled the air, joined only by Simon's gasping snarls as he fucked the mutt. His gut was beginning to press and scrape against the mutt's cock, causing the poor male to writhe even more as he couldn't get away from the rough stimulation. Again he didn't care if it was enjoyable for him. It was all irrelevant. All Simon wanted to focus on was the rim that suckled up to his groin, his balls dripping with errant rivulets of lube, his abdomen becoming matted with the goo. It was growing hotter by all accounts inside those guts that pulled him deeper in. Simon supposed it must have been something between the mutt's own body temperature and his lustful rutting, but it could have just been his imagination. Regardless it felt like he was ramming his cock into a tempestuous sea of hot lube, hearing it spill and squelch against his body's thrusts as he pounded hard.

"Oh yeah, fuckin' hot!" Simon spat at the mutt, levering his body over so that he bent the male further out of shape. One paw clamped down upon the spreader bar between his legs and pushed back, forcing that ass to curl with the lion's movements. The hole was only opened wider now as he continued to breed it with heavy and laboured thrusts. He overshadowed the mutt as that weight of his drove his hips like the piston of a machine, withdrawing so slightly only to slam back inside with the mass of the trucker behind him. It was unrelenting, he knew damn well by the mutt's grimace that it was near uncomfortable, too intense to really process, but that tongue inside the open gag was so inviting. Hacking up a wad of spit, Simon let his saliva, frothy and gross, drool down into that waiting hole, forcing the mutt to swallow his bodily fluids. It seemed fitting that if he was to overflow one end then the other ought to have the same treatment.

There was nothing sweet or sincere about their fucking. Simon was intent on cumming inside the boy and he didn't care whatever happened to the mutt in the meantime. He would dribble into that open mouth, he would dig his claws into whatever flesh he could grasp, and all the while he rammed his fat prick into the ruined depths with sickening ease.

Naturally though even the lion had his limits; whilst he didn't care if the mutt got off or not, though he knew where his preference lay, he could feel the tell-tale tingle boil in his abdomen. Something was seizing within him, and Simon didn't even try to fight when he felt the urges begin to take over. He turned his attention away from pushing the mutt's body over and instead grabbed out his cheeks, prising them apart as he fucked harder than he'd ever done before into that stretched, wrecked ass. He roared and growled into the empty air and inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring with a ferocious glare overtaking him.

"Yeah, fuckin' take it!" Words were slurred, snapped with angry teeth and covered in a vicious snarl whilst the lion bared his fangs, "Take it you slut!"

Martin cried out as claws dug into his ass, Simon thrusting some final few times before a billowing roar erupted from his chest, louder than anything that had come before it. It deafened the room into a stupor of silence, as finally Simon unloaded his pent up seed into that sloppy hole. There was no sensation of feeling his cum spill out around his cock, not with an ass that drenched in lube, but the feeling of release was euphoric. Simon happily grumbled to himself in something mixed between a purr and a growl, paws leaving the mutt's behind to return to his own nipples, roughly toying with them as he humped the well-bred hole.

"Fuck yes..."

Out of the corner of his vision he saw the mutt's body collapse in exhaustion, still not having orgasmed himself, but perhaps just relieved that the ordeal had come to a standstill. The lion pulled his cock free from the wet hole, shaking off the dregs of his climax over the boy's crotch before wiping himself clean against a tender thigh that shivered in the quiet.

He might be spent, but Simon was far from done with the mutt for the evening. Without skipping a beat and returned to sitting back on his haunches, content to give his dick a rest to recuperate for another breeding, whilst he scooped up the slop of lube that had poured from Martin's hole amidst the fucking. He cupped the dirty fluids in his paw, seeing just remnants of his own load trailing through the clearer gloop, rewarding himself with a sly smile. It would be enough, he figured, as he pressed his fist back up to the mutt's stretched, tired hole. Martin jolted at the sudden sensation, blinking himself back to consciousness as the lion pushed his fist back inside. Only this time he was so far gone that Simon didn't even need to slip his paw into some easy shape; his blunt fist was greedily swallowed by the wretched hole in an instant, a lewd squelch and pop emanating from the mutt's behind as the lion fisted his load deeper into him.

"Oh yeah, boy, we're nowhere near done yet." The fist was pulled out unceremoniously, Martin grunting and whimpering as his rim was wrecked open by the balled up paw. Simon licked the points of his teeth with glee as he shoved the fist back inside, the mutt's horrified mewls like honey to his ears, "Nowhere near done at all; we're in for the long haul..."