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He could have afforded a good hotel. It wouldn't have been local, but it'd have been better than a motel six. David sighed, front teeth grinding against the cigarette in his mouth as the hound struggled with the lighter between his paws. Lorraine's words reached deep into his subconscious, holding him back from lighting the damn thing and giving back into the sweet addition of nicotine.

Or, more likely, he just forgot how to use a lighter. It had been nearly a decade before he smoked. A bad habit he adopted through stress, and later supplemented with his diet if his gut showed. The bed creaked as he stood up. Still chewing on the cig, he looked in the mirror, at the sad excuse of a man he considered himself.

His eyes were heavy, lack of sleep from...he sighed, it was all stress. He was a doctor, a fucking surgeon, he should be used to stress by now. But no, ever since his supposed daughter came into his mind, his hands shook at the worst times. Memories flooded back to him every day, from the leather boots splashing into puddles as he ran, the straining of his throat as David screamed his girlfriend's name at that bus depot, and the pain of his knuckles after assaulting his own father.

He was stronger then. Fit, athletic. Not a superstar, but not someone who had a diet of too much sugar that his wife kept telling him to change. "What are you telling your patients if you can't take care of yourself?" His wife would say. She knew better than him, the wolf had been addicted to much worse. Still, the image of who he used to be reflected back in the mirror. A flat stomach, muscular arms, and a cocky young smile that he, despite knowing it was a mask, wanted to bury his fist in.

Now the golden retriever's gut stretched outward, his arms lacked tone, and his face drooped like a bloodhound. Ok, breedist but it was a personal thought for him. The lighter clicked, flame dancing atop the vent free of any problems. Such an easy thing to extinguish.

His lungs cried with the smoke he inhaled, but his brain whispered sweet relief. "This was a mistake..." David said to himself. Both the smoke, and thinking his estranged daughter would want anything to do with him. He'd already seen things no father should. Not many fathers could say they saw their daughters in full gimp suits.

And the ones that could probably weren't worth talking to. He coughed, forgetting how strong the scent was. Rushing to the door, he opened it to let his room vent, stepping onto the balcony in nothing but briefs. Undignified, but he didn't care what people in Michigan thought of his ass. He wasn't staying long enough to care.

Then his phone rang.

He moved faster than his body allowed. Past the discarded pizza boxes and assorted takeout, he dove to the bed to check the number. No one he knew, which could have meant anything from another spam call, or his daughter. He gulped, regretfully praying it was spam.

"He-" David coughed to clear his throat, "Hello?"

"Hi." Her voice seized him like a net. Even with the static on the line from terrible connection, the canine could match the tone to the gimped up vole he saw at the party. He shivered, disgusted that his first interaction with her was casual talk about water bottles or whatever while people were getting spanked or whipped. "Is this David Reese?"

He mouthed yes, taking half a minute to realize the words never escaped him. "Y-yes, this is David speaking. Who am I speaking with?" A pause on the line ate at him. Any second he expected to hear her hang up, and every fiber of his being demanded he scream out and beg her not to. "Hi, my name's Amelia...I think we met not too long ago."

"It...it certainly sounds like it. The name is familiar." Why was he stalling? Why was she stalling? They both knew, they had to know. How else did she get his number? "Amelia...I..."

"My mom says you're my dad, biologically speaking." That specific drove through him like a knife, but he nodded all the same. "Y-Yeah...Amelia if I had known you'd be there-"

"Let's not bring that up, ok? This is already awkward." On that he could agree. "Right, right. So...I guess this is a lot to take in, huh?" Of course it was, but what was David supposed to say? 'Hey kiddo, daddy is finally in your life?' It's not like he was bad at dealing with kids or even people her age. Hell, he had at least one person her age living as part of him and Lorraine's lifestyle household. His stomach churned, why did he think of that? That lifestyle wasn't appropriate for his daughter. Then again she looked to be living with a woman older than him so what was he to say? Plus he hadn't been part of her life. His stomach kept churning.

"Yeah, yeah...look mom told me her side of the story. And I'd like to think...no I think I'm owed your side."

"Does it have to be over the phone?" He asked, staring out the window to the opening breeze flowing through nearby branches. "I know you weren't dealt a fair hand, but neither was I. The least we could do is meet up in a normal setting? N-not that I find your lifestyle weird it's just that-" She laughed. Ok, maybe more of a chuckle, but it was the first feeling of relief he'd felt since talking to her. "No, my lifestyle is pretty weird even by progressive standards. Not that I really care."

"I'm not one to judge. I mean my wife-"

"Lorraine, right? She manages Jenny Rose right?" David blinked. He'd known Amelia met his wife back during the Folsom street festival. But when did she learn she was his wife? Unless... "Yeah, did she call you?"

"She called Helga. My girlfriend. I kind of learned you were here because of her."

"Oh...well, yeah I suppose that would do it." Mentally he cursed at Joyce for not telling their...her...Amelia about him. No one should learn of a parent from someone outside their family, though maybe the pig was very close to her. Of course she was, they were at-he shook his mind of that thought and spoke up, "She does manage Jenny, and looks after her and the others. Frankly, it's like another family." He wasn't sure why he was saying this. Anxiety? Either way it couldn't have been the best thing to say to his estranged daughter. He knew that, he kept telling himself that, but his mouth wouldn't stop talking. "Really the porn business is rather shady, but she's kind of a beacon to-"

"You know the local mall? The Crossroads?" She asked, practically grabbing the shovel that was his tongue. "No, but I can google it," He responded, "Would you like to meet there?"

"Yeah, tomorrow at the food court. We can have lunch."

A food court? "Sure, sure. I can pay if you'd like." The more he thought of it, the more the public setting made sense. One could get up and go relatively easily at a food court, and if either made a scene they'd be noticed. Not that he wanted to make a scene, or planned on it. Just his mind going for the worst outcome again.

"I can pay for my own, but I appreciate it. Tomorrow at noon?"

"Tomorrow at noon, Amelia. See you then." There was a click, and the call ended. David gasped as though he'd been submerged for hours, clutching his chest with each breath. He'd finally get to meet her, his daughter. His real blood and flesh daughter. "N-No, don't think of her like that." It wasn't fair to her, since he couldn't be her father. He wasn't around enough to be her father, no matter how much he wanted.

But damn it all, she was his daughter. If that was selfish, then he'd be a little selfish.

***

The entire call was akin to walking a tightrope. Amethyst felt the falling sensation as she hung up, cradling into Helga's arms at the couch. "You ok?" She asked, her rough hand softly scratching the shaved side of the vole's head before twirling through her dyed headfur. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Rebecca sitting politely on the ground like a good girl, worried but waiting for her answer. Then she eyed up to the pig holding her. "I need you to fuck the ever loving shit out of me. Hard."

Helga smiled, "Well I think that can be-" Amethyst grabbed the older woman's shirt collar, pulling herself up to her lover's face. "Hard, momma. I need to stop being Amethyst right now. Is that clear?"

A soft and deliciously evil grin formed across the hog woman's mouth. She batted the vole's hand away and hooked a finger around the ring of her collar. "Since when does my bitch make demands?"

Their lips met. Helga's breath surged throughout the young vole's body while the pig's tongue wrestled hers. She was forceful, domineering, and everything Amethyst needed. Her hands wrapped around the older woman's waist, pulling herself closer to her mistress's embrace while Rebecca watched from behind. Already their shared bottom bitch was salivating, watching with delicious desire as her two dominants explored each other. Some part in her, the dominant side that clawed its way through since Folsom, enjoyed giving the pitbull a show she wouldn't touch. But she ignored that part now, giving in completely to her submissive desires.

Helga grabbed her maw and pushed Amethyst off, "Get up and strip." The command tightened her nipples, and shuddered a wave of ecstasy. She smiled in the hog's grip, sticking her tongue out in one small act of playful defiance. "Make me."

She pulled at Amethyst's hair. Not enough to hurt, just to remind the vole of her place. "I could always just get a pair of scissors or a knife," The hog growled softly, biting into her sub's neck, "Either way, you just earned ten more downstairs." She knew Helga wouldn't cut her clothes, though they had cheap outfits for such an occasion.

Nodding with what room she had, Amethyst stood up and slowly stripped away her clothes, swerving her hips with a tantalizing display for both her and their cuckpuppy watching. Rebecca caught the tossed clothing, leaving her holding everything while Amethyst stood naked save for her studded collar and chastity belt. Satisfied, her mistress pulled a pair of keys from between her breasts and latched one against the vole's belt. A simple click was all it took for release, exposing her dripping cunt to everyone present. "How many weeks has it been since we took this off?" Helga asked.

"I lost track, Momma."

"Oh?" Helga pulled Amethyst in by her collar, "And why's that? You're no longer desperate to cum?" She shook her head in response, "Bitches cum when they earn it, Momma. Bitches don't decide when they earn it."

"That's a good bitch." Helga shoved the vole to her knees, "Now show me some respect before we play." Without delay, Amethyst pressed her lips against her mistress's feet. She wished Helga wore her boots if only to taste the leathery make and make it shine, but her mistress was satisfied and pulled her along to the basement door. Reaching the bottom, Helga pushed Amethyst to the wall and told her to stay put while she and Rebecca set things up.

Her ears twitched with every heavy movement, letting her mind wander at what play they could achieve for her. Taking a deep breath, she cast out the ideas, not wishing to overhype herself. Leather matted against her fur as Helga pulled a hood over Amethyst's scalp. She helped where directed, popping out her ears through the holes and bracing herself steady as her hair was pulled into a ponytail. "Can you see?" Helga asked and she nodded. "Good."

A heavy hand struck her buttcheeks. She yelped, held still by a tight grip on her ponytail. Helga struck again and again, pressing Amethyst's quivering body against the cold concrete walls. Her nipples rubbed against the foundation, mixing cold pleasure with sharp pain.

With restrained force, Helga pulled her gimp vole from the wall and pushed her to the middle of the room. Rebecca, naked save for her own hood, waited there and grabbed Amethyst's wrists on command, locking them against hanging cuffs, and spreading her legs apart with a bar, leaving the vole exposed before her mistress. "What's your safeword, cunt?" Helga demanded, aggressively pulling back her slave's head.

"What you never put on pizza, Momma." Amethyst's quip earned her a quick slap across her chest. "Don't be bratty about this, Amelia," Helga chided. Biting her lip, the vole breathed deeply and nodded with what little space her mistress's grip gave. "Pineapple, momma." The pig's thanks came in a heavy kiss, one to suck the breath from the hanging vole.

She let go and snapped a blindfold against Amethyst's hood. Blind and motionless, the vole's ears perked at the rustling of tools and toys in the corner. Fingers massaged her nipples, too small to be Helga's, and too inexperienced. She tensed all the same, biting her tongue as Rebecca mimicked every torment she and Helga inflicted on the pitbull. Her shivering digits told Amethyst how much she wished for the positions to be switched. Even when assisting, Rebecca begged to submit.

Amethyst wasn't too different.

Wooden clips clamped down on her tight nipples and across her breasts. She heard Rebecca's knees hit the floor, and felt the canine's breath against her cunt. "Don't cum," Helga ordered, with a heavy swipe of a flogger against the vole's chest. Hands clenched against the florentine onslaught, pain mixing with the pleasure of her own slave's tongue against her cunt.

Clothespins tattered against the gym padding with every strike, leaving only the two on her nipples locked in place. Helga pulled Rebecca off, and slowly released the pins. Pain surged with their release, followed by a warm flat tongue lapping against them. "I think she's gotten better?" Helga whispered from behind, one hand on Amethyst's throat, the other at her mouth. "Granted, she's nowhere near as good a muffeater as you are. You seem to be slacking on those lessons."

Amethyst opened her mouth to answer, only for Helga to push her fingers down the vole's throat. "Don't speak, you garage band dyke. Don't you utter a fucking word." There it was, that dark humiliating edge she craved. Behind her momma's gruff exterior was a sweet and loving woman, but she knew all the right ways to make the vole quiver and drip. Even now, fingers deep in her throat, Amethyst felt like nothing more than a gagging toy for her mistress's delight.

Not Amethyst, not Amy, and certainly not amelia. Just a gimp that belonged to an experienced biker dyke.

"Harder," She coughed out as Helga withdrew her hand. "Hurt me...harder..."

"Fucking impatient little cuntdiver," the pig chuckled. Rebecca was pushed off again, leaving Amethyst exposed. Helga pushed the vole's hips outward, exposing her dripping cunt. "Don't you dare drop focus," She demanded. The tail ends of her mistress's leather flogger slapped against her exposed cunt. Amethyst shrieked but held steady, legs shivering to stay focused through the aches and pain building up.

Her pussy throbbed in the open air briefly once Helga stopped. Rebecca's tongue stopped that, aggressively eating out the vole while their shared mistress explored the bound rodent's mouth. Gently she bit down on her bitch's lips, possessively pulling and letting go at the last second. "Don't you cum, slut."

She was close. God damn she was close. Rebecca may have not been the best, but she had the enthusiasm to make up for her failings when it came to service. She heard Helga step behind her, then the rummaging of straps and clips being pulled. Amethyst held her tongue when two lubed up fingers pressed against the quivering vermin's backdoor. Then came the penetration. She clenched her fists as the thick and wide strap-on slowly pushed into her. "F-Fuck!" She cried out, smiling underneath her hood as the pig spread her out. "I fucking missed Betty."

"And she misses you, you fucking brat," Helga teased, slapping her vole's tight bum. Holding her hips tight, the pig woman slowly fucked her dangly slave. First to fit all of 'Bitchbreaker Betty' inside, then picking up speed while leaning in and roughly handling Amethyst's nipples with working woman hands.

Filled in the back, dived into from the front, her chest tormented, and all she could do was swear and moan into the air between their torments. "I'm..." She swallowed, biting her lips to keep her concentration, "C-close..."

"You know what to say, cuntrag."

"C-Can...Can I cum, Momma?" She asked between breaths, repeating it ad nauseam until the question turned to begging. "Please let toy cum. So close, couldn't hold."

Without skipping a thrust, Helga hooked a finger into the vole's cheek and pulled, "Drench your bitch, slave," She commanded. All her restraint ceased. Wave after wave of pleasure hit her. The pig kept fucking throughout, holding Amethyst tight as Rebecca fell back and coughed over the sudden surge in her mouth.

She hung from her chains, her back door empty and begging once Helga pulled out. Hands gripped at her restraints, loosening them free and catching her when she fell from exhaustion. "I got ya..." Helga said, pulling off the mask and embracing her girl close, "You're here. You're safe. Take a deep breath and come back down."

Part of her didn't want to, but like a good girl she followed. Every breath brought her back, reminding Amethyst she was more than a toy no matter how much she wished otherwise. Toys and slave's only had to worry about keeping their better happy. But Amethyst was a person, and people had responsibilities.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she embraced her mistress, burying her head into the pig's chest and letting loose pain she'd buried. "Thank you..." She muttered, not wanting her love to think she caused the waterworks, "Thank you..."

"Shh...it's ok," Helga cooed, running her hand through the vole's scalp. She rested up against the middle pole of the basement, gently holding her submissive as a mother would a child. "Let it all out."

"I'm scared..." She sniffed, "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow." Helga didn't say anything to that. Amethyst doubted there was any answer to that that could help her. Another pair of arms wrapped around her from behind as Rebecca scooted in. "We'll be there for you, Mistress," She whispered. The vole wanted to laugh, to be called mistress after that felt like a cruel twisted joke.

She smiled anyway, knowing the two of them were by her side.