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Khenmu was everything Trystan imagined, and more. Lusting eyes took in the man, the way he stripped down to reveal every bit of masculinity. The fabric peeled off from his body, like an artist revealing a masterpiece, the blue uniform cast away toward the door revealing black velvet fur. Muscles chiseled like a marble statue, cut and smoothed, polished beneath the enticing darkness, this the fox already guessed, but there was more to the jackal than a perfect body. For amidst the captain's magnificent chest, were cursive hieroglyphs tattooed in metallic gold, a line which descended down the ancient writing across the abs and down low as it disappeared under the fabric of his pants. How low? Trystan wondered, his widened eyes watching his captor's show hypnotically. Mesmerized by it all, the fox absent-mindedly licked his lips at the glint of gold on Khenmu's biceps, shorter tattoos in the same mystic style. How low did the sexy markings go?

And the question answered as Khenmu's pants dropped, at long last revealing a thick sheath and pair of fist-sized balls that made his heart race at the sight. Suddenly he remembered why he felt the impending dread, with the pointed tip of Khenmu's jackal cock beginning to slide out. The tattoos did indeed go low. Seemingly stopping at the trimmed fuzzy opening, and picking back up below as the golden art continued even further down, across the middle of the Jackal's scrotum, with his heavy orbs to either side filling the massive pouch. And yet going even lower than that, the metallic line did not stop, between the adonis' balls and hole, following through all the way until the underside of the whip-like Anubian Jackal's tail, and picking back up on the other end to ascend his muscular back.

Fourteen inches. A thick and sanguineous shaft, easily reaching the double digits without his knot. Dark red like blood, a rocket with an orange-sized lump of flesh at the root, not the largest out there, but certainly the biggest Trystan had ever seen. How it stood, proud and erect, stiff and immovable as the Jackal behind it. And yes, the glorious golden tattoos continued on, written upon the venous rod as a testament to either Khenmu's masculinity or to the nerves of the artist who placed it there, as the fox winced even thinking about it. Or perhaps the boy winced at the thought of where all fourteen of those inches would go. But why didn't he run? Why did his legs feel like spreading wider? Why did his mouth water and tongue moisten at the sight of Khenmu's ominous advance?

"Damn..." The fox admitted his admiration impressed at the Jackal.

What happened next was lost. Lost in the tides of pain, pain still lingering from Trystan's assaulted sack. Pain which entered him, and split him apart, filled him and hammered his innards unrelentingly. Pain that stretched him beyond his limits, a pain which came pouncing ahead of the small pleasure that followed after. The fox squirming under the pressure, his insides burning feverishly twisting in coils rearranged by the arm-like tool inside him. The rubbing, slickened by a thin smear of pre-cum, his prostate backed against the firm shaft and assaulted. Fire filled his lungs, every laboured breath shortened as he clenched against the tunneling prick, and the musk, heavy and choking, filled the air of Khenmu's dominating scent. And ever on the edge of passing out, the pain brought him back, his blood racing as the fox was used by the alpha male.

"Fuck!" Reality snapped back, and the whorish moanings of a fox were deafened by the room. Despite it all Khenmu was still ever stoic, silent and controlling, his paw holding the smaller fox down against the table as Trystan cried out from taking his massive length. There was no pleasure greater than bringing a scumbag to justice, for what could a newly loosened asshole provide Khenmu? The fox was utterly ruined, his walls weak to Khenmu's shaft. Parting away to the divine rod, in and out, in and out, the waves of spasms quaking through Trystan's brain. It was too much, Khenmu was too much, had too much, and gave too much, six inches pulled back only to be slammed back in, all to the sound balls slapping the metal table. Three inches out, and then hilted back in, again and again sometimes as little as two, other times as much as ten, yet never did that girthy member completely leave the foxslut's destroyed hole.

How long did it go? The russet fox's trim body aching on the table. The constant buttfucking which robbed the fox of his senses, his mind barraged by feelings unfelt before. Yes, this man had just shoved his beefy arm into the boy, but his cock was something different. The way it tapered off at the tip, pointed like a spear, the slit drooling a slippery pre that coated his insides, the throbbing pulses felt as the rigidity shifted with the unending thrusts. A strange feeling, one that was accompanied by a doubt, a sharp numbness that dulled the mind. It felt right, however wrong it was, to be on the receiving end of this sex god scepter. Despite whatever he professed, his dying masculinity was cut short by Khenmu's vicious attacks. Trystan's voice an octave higher, huffing and panting for it all to end, for his assailant to stop before he burst apart. Was the fox beginning to enjoy this? "P-p-please... N-no More..."

"Hrmph." A cold heart which budged not to the pleas of criminals. Khenmu would see to this fox's punishment to the end. His body heated from the humping, vigorously pumping out of his dominated prey, he would break the boy. Even now the boy's ass molded to the form of the Jackal's manhood, memorizing the girth which spread it wide open, the tip burrowed deep inside as the captain forced himself deeper into the fox. Trauma and injury, surely to leave their mark, but a stretched ass will recover in time, so it was not the brutal fucking that would be burned into Trystan's memory, but how Khenmu continued on heartlessly deaf to his whimpering and moans. The utter domination seeping into the fox's mind, teaching him his place in the order of things. And Khenmu was merely beginning the lesson.

No longer pushing the boy into the table, Khenmu's hands grabbed Trystan's wrists, and the fox took the opportunity to struggle in hopes of escape. Yet squirming as his captor pulled the boy from the table, it was in vain, the jackal was in control here. Never skipping a thrust, the captain slammed the whimpering fox into the far wall, the sheer dominance dripping off his adonis body overwhelming the boy. Thrown forward into the cold steel, Trystan's paws pressed deep into the hard metal which offered itself as a brace against Khenmu's' aggressive pounding. It was all he could do under the assault, and yet he found his body wanting more of it, of him, of Khenmu. He begged for it to stop, stuttering out the words and stumbling over the harsh consonant sounds, he cried out for mercy, a plea for no more. But his body betrayed his desires, or perhaps it was his desired which betrayed him? As Khenmu felt the fox beginning to rock his hips back and forth along for the ride. The bitch wanted more, much more, and he begged for it, asking for it in delirium as his prostate was being rammed with every knee-shaking thrust the jackal did.

A neglected cock, once drained but not pleasured, drooling with clear stringy pre, glistening between them as it bounced along erect and forgotten, useless enough as his ass felt like tearing apart. Trystan stared down at his nethers, a visible bulge protruding just below his navel and making a seventh abdominal bulge beneath the boy's barely-defined abs. But it never came to him, the sweet release he cried out for, the reason why he impaled himself upon inch after inch of Khenmu thick cock. Denied his orgasmic bliss as his punisher jackhammered away with rough grunts, and the fox clenched his teeth and anal ring around the monstrous shaft buried inside him, as his battered prostate sent him moaning like the anal slut he was meant to be. Reduced to a mere cocksleeve as his resolved buckled under the sexual frustration and his entranced eyes gave Khenmu a pitiful look.

From the corner of his eye Trystan could see the golden tattoos shimmering against Khenmu's ebon fur, half-way down the Jackal's left and right thigh, another pair of short tattoos. What did they mean? Maybe if he focused on those, the fourteen inches buried away in his ass wouldn't feel so bad. The mystery of who this police captain was, this large and attractive, very sexy beast. The fog of sex did more than just fill the room with the scent of mating, but also the boy's mind. He was almost obsessed with knowing more, and even if he wanted to feel less, he wanted Khenmu in him more. Each time he felt the pull, the emptiness inside of him, he felt robbed of ecstasy. Only to be thrown back into the flows was Khenmu's balls slapped against his own. An injection of the finest drug, by the largest gauge needle, a throbbing, delicious cock the boy was curious to taste.

"Confess boy." A heavy paw smacked Trystan across his ass.

The command from behind enforced with a stinging pain, inside and out, the quivering hole and slapped cheeks begged Trystan to obey. The evidence was against him, wasn't it enough? Another harsh slap across his modest rump, making the fox cry out, mouth agape over his shoulder. No more, please, please Daddy no more. Punished like a boy by his hand, and like a whore by his rod. Oh how the tears streamed down the fox's face, as Khenmu never stopped fucking. But what was there to confess to? What did that handsome jackal want? What did it take to end this? Did Trystan want it to end?

"I deal drugs!"

Smack. Another deserved spanking.

"I was indecent!"

Smack. Wrong again.

"I broke the law!"

There. There it was. The smoking gun. The admission of guilt that Khenmu wanted. Judgement passed over as the criminal knew his own faults. The submission, the acceptance of guilt against the conscience, it was enough. Picking up his speed the jackal was intent on finishing the exercise, faster in and out as his hips smashed into the poor boy's pelvis in a powerful crescendo. Rising pressure building in Khenmu's orbs, pulling his foxboy from the wall and into his crotch as dominating paws grabbed the boy's shoulders. Like a limp doll held up only by Khenmu's moving hips and muscles, the fox was carried and fucked as the boy moaned in erratic pleasure. It was too much for Trystan to handle, the muscles, the cock, the musk, the control, everything reduced the boy into a wriggling boyslut begging for boypussy to be used.

"Punish me Daddy, I deserve it!" The voice of a defeated man, emasculated to reveal the core. The inner submissive that was within him. Mewling at the feeling of being used, whimpering, shuddering and drooling from a lopsided jaw too lost in pleasure to understand his own words. He only understood pleasure, and that Khenmu gave him that pleasure. Held in the jackals grip like the toy he was, impaled on that enormous rod, wanting to feel his insides torn apart when Khenmu ties that knot inside him. Trystan knew it now, he wasn't the top he thought he was, he was a bottom, and not just any bottom bitch: Khenmu's bitch.

Then at long last, one of them finally came. Trystan's bowels being filled with something warm and thick, a fluid brought forth from the loins of his Anubian stud. The force of the final thrust, the explosion which followed after, seed pumped deep inside from a breeding machine. No less did the thrusting slow, the long member like a perfect piston driving deep into the mess that was Trystan''s destroyed ass. Pre-cum splattered across the jackal's crotch, squelched out by the force behind the gold-touched crimson shaft, and a swelling knot rapidly stretched out the softened walls. A like softball with a bat, shoved up in a quaking ass, exhausted and barely conscious Trystan smiled at the sensation. One shot after another, messy ropes of cum fired every few seconds from the jackal's dilating slit. Knotted and bred like a true bitch, each round unloaded a pleasing humiliation as the fox's abdomen filled with Khenmu's hot cum.

But there would be no romantic afterglow, no warm and fuzzy feeling of satisfaction as Khenmu began to yank the boy's shoulders. Lifting his body up and forcing his ass to pull against the massive knot. The pain surged back, pressing hard against the battered prostate. The jackal had no time to wait for his knot to deflate, there was work to be done, and this boy had to processed. Thus Khenmu pulled, his muscles flexing to pop his knot free of that used hole, despite the gasp and cries of the smaller fox on his shaft, and the mess Trystan made as his pathetic boydick drooled out impotent anal orgasms. The dripping watery foxsploo running down the length and fox's boyballs, until eventually the widest part of Khenmu's knot peeked out of the anal ring.

And with a pop, alpha and boy were separated. There was hardly any resistance the vixen had left to give, stretched beyond the normal bounds of his capacity and snapped like a rubber band. His head thrown back, his body limp against the floor as he slid off Khenmu''s vermillion cock like a used condom, thrown off to be discarded. Panting, sweating, and beaten, broken as his gasping mouth mimicked his gaping asshole, sputtering and leaking a stream of cum with every heave of his shallow breaths. It was over, please let it be over, and yet the fox longed for more, his body empty and filled, wanting both more and no more in confusion.

The knot released, Trystan's desires painfully coursed into his leaking cock which was nothing compared to the majesty that hung low before his quivering lips. Still hard, throbbing before the fox mesmerically. He gulped, swallowing hard as his eyes fixated on the still hard member dangled over him, gazing up at the root and the body it was attached to. And he feared it, worshipped it, but feared it all the same like how one would treat a god. Yes, a god. Khenmu was a god, his god who he longed to kiss and beg to be anointed in his cum. Cum which leaked out from his open hole unto the floor as he lowered his muzzle and lapped at the divine fluids.

"Good. Clean up." Khenmu's voice from high above, certainly already dressing himself, "And don't let me catch you in my station again boy..."

And as the door closed shut, Trystan gulped as he savored the feel of jackal cum down his throat.