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His Stepfather's Bitch

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Crimson Kobold

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Marcus yawned, the Pitbull dragging his hind paws as he headed home, though he had a comfortable buzz on. It was fun to flash his new ID around at the bars and the pubs, though he had had to stick to the quieter spots with his friends, for not all of them were of drinking age yet. It was good to be eighteen though, to feel like he had more of a say in his life, that things had changed. In the eyes of the law, the grey Pitbull with a dopey smile and lean build was an adult - and that had to count for something, right?

At least, that was what he hoped. Marcus didn't feel any different, not really, just the same old Pitbull that he had been before. He shoved his paws into his pockets, of moderate height but seeming to curl into himself as he walked, as if he was hunching forward constantly. He didn't want to cause any trouble, even if it was a quiet night, his breath showing in the air before him as he breathed.

It was well past curfew, of course, but he had not thought that that mattered anymore. He was an adult - neither his stepfather nor his mother could say anything much about that anymore and he would be off to college soon. Well, he hadn't decided what to study yet, but he would soon and that would all be okay then. He'd have a path, a direction, and everything would be fine. It wasn't something that Marcus worried about much.

The suburban house was innocuous even as he hustled up the front path, fumbling with the key in the lock, shivering. He should have brought a thicker sweatshirt, he always got cold so easily, it was so annoying. But he got inside in time, closing the door after him, though he still tried to be quiet. He didn't want to worry anyone or wake them up, not with the late hour. His mom was probably still out working anyway, or working away. He lost track of her schedule but she was very rarely there.

"You're late."

Marcus froze, heart leaping, pounding... And then his stature softened as he realised that it was just his stepfather, the Clydesdale stallion that had become such a dominating influence in his life.

"Oh, hey Jack. Sorry, I didn't mean to make so much noise."

His ears slipped back weakly as the equine stood from the straight-backed armchair where he had sat, adjacent to the hallway. The entrance to the living room of the house was through an archway with no door to close there, nothing to separate one from the rest of the abode. In a way, it was a nice feature. In another sense, it offered less privacy for someone trying to slip into the house unseen.

Something in his stepfather's gaze chilled him, the equine bare-chested, which was unusual. There was a stark contrast between the smaller Pitbull and the massive Clydesdale, which was strange considering Marcus' canine breed, what features he had taken on. He was much slenderer than most Pitbulls too, which others had made fun of him for in his earlier years, though his father towering, his broad chest and cannonball shoulders dominating... It made him swallow, hard, and take a step back that he really shouldn't have.

"You're very late," his father said, his tone as chilling as chips of ice. "Do you know what you've done to me, sitting up here, waiting for you to come back? You have not even answered your phone."

On the surface, Jack's words could have been pleasant, just an everyday conversation, but there was something more sinister in them, a cool lacing them that brought them into the realm of that frozen kind of anger that was worse than hot, flying, spittle inducing anger. The Pitbull shoved his paws deeper into his pockets and scuffed his toe across the floor.

"Um... Shit, sorry, I thought... I didn't realise my phone wasn't on..."

That was a lie. He'd turned it off. He hadn't thought it was important though, but it was not as if his stepfather had ever really shown any indication that he cared about that sort of thing. Marcus had always toed the line before though.

"Well, you probably think you're the big dog now, eighteen and able to do whatever you want, right?"

"Uh, well... No... No, that's..." Marcus shook his head, holding up his paws, heart doing weird, flip-flopping, unpleasant things. "No, not what I wanted... Not what I thought, jeez, sorry..."

His stepfather held up his palm, fingers tipped with hoof-like nails. It was very different from the hand-like paw of an anthro canine, lacking the pads.

"Be that as it may, I'm sure this will come as no surprise to you."

A bag landed beside his feet, tossed there, solidly connecting with the floor with a thump that had Marcus jumping.

"What? Is this... Is this my bag? Jack, what the hell?"

The horse surveyed him levelly.

"You're eighteen, aren't you? Seems like as good a time as any, now that you're an adult, a fully developed male, for you to move out. You think that you're too good for this place, you go out on your own."

Blood roared in the dog's ears, shaking his head, struggling to find the words to express how he felt. The dimness of the hallway no longer seemed familiar to Marcus at all, breath catching in his throat, though it was not a sob, merely his body straining through his expression of shock. Fuck, was his stepfather serious? He was going to kick him out just now that he was eighteen? What would his mother say about that? Considering how little she'd been around, with her work, he wasn't so sure that his mother would even notice.

The stallion's nostrils quivered, taking in everything, observing his stepson's reaction. Marcus clenched his fists, yet didn't have the standing or the fight in him to even think about challenging the much large horse.

"Or there's another option."

Marcus swallowed, shifting his weight, sweating coldly under his arms, despite the prickling heat in the rest of his body. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what his stepfather had to say one little bit.

"Yes?"

"You..." Jack dragged it out as if he was enjoying the taunt. "You could submit to me. You can continue to live here, of course, if you become my one and only submissive bitch. Not fucking anyone else, not pawing off to anything else. You'll be completely fucking obedient, no more than a bitch on a leash."

Marcus reeled, jaw dropping, horrified. His bag stared at him from the ground, terror lining the lumpy contents. He doubted there was even a fresh pair of underwear in there, maybe just a bundle of T-shirts.

"You..." He grappled with his words, opening and closing his mouth several times before any sound came out. "You can't possibly be serious about this - you can't do this to me!"

His stepfather smirked. He didn't know why but that smirk chilled him to the bone more than anything the equine had said so far.

"Oh, but I can. Who's going to stop me? And it's not as if you don't have a choice here too, Marcus. You can step out and take your chances on the street with the users and the losers - no job too, right? You didn't even bother getting one of those, just a flake and a layabout. Or you could keep a roof over your head and take the place you are supposed to have in the house."

His mother, he thought dimly, through a haze of blurry feeling, too many emotions crashing in on one another to be believed, every single one of them snarling for precedence. She would have something to say about it. Even if she didn't care about him being kicked out, agreed with his stepfather, who'd only moved in a couple of years back, she would care if he was on a leash, if he was used, abused... Wait, just what did his stepfather have in mind for him?

"Choose quickly, dog. Tick-tock, tick-tock... This is a limited time offer..."

Marcus gave a shuddering gasp. All right. Better to choose the option that was safest for the moment. Maybe his stepfather just meant him acting like a kid again and absolutely looking up to authority. For the moment, that was better than trying to make his way on the streets when he didn't even know what the fuck he was doing out there.

"I... Uh..."

"Speak quickly, boy, I don't have the time for this."

"Yes! Yes, I'll do it, I'll be obedient...and all that..." Marcus said, trailing off weakly, for even he did not know the true extent of what his stepfather wanted. "All right? So, can I take my bag to my room...or what?"

The stallion smirked.

"That's a start. You are obedient naturally, aren't you? It's easier for dogs to just do as they are told, to be good little bitches to the dominant species."

Marcus shuddered. What? That was fucked up, but somehow he didn't have the words on his tongue to come back with, well, anything. He tried to take a step back, but his stepfather was there, closing the distance between them in a single stride, snorting heavily, his tail lashing the air.

"Little bitch... You were always meant to be down on his knees."

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, not as he was ordered down to his knees, blood roaring in his ears. Through the dull haze of nothingness, he gasped, a strong paw grasping the back of his neck and shoving him there.

"I thought you'd do better than that, boy. Dogs take orders, so you'd better start fucking listening to me."

Yes... He had to, his head spinning, locking down into a way of being that meant survival only. He had to get through it, he knew he had to, even as he knelt there shakily, the hardwood of the hallway suddenly seeming raw and unfamiliar.

It was his home...but it was not where he wanted to be anymore.

"Wait... Jack... Dad..." The dog's eyes widened. "I... What are you doing?"

He'd thought that it would be something else, not sexual, but there was little else that he could draw from the moment his older stepfather drew his sheath and nuts out. The dog would have reeled if he had been allowed to, though the paw clenching tightly into the looser skin at the scruff of his neck, his hair on his head kept short and neat, didn't allow him to. It was firmer and more dominating than any collar, even that clench half cutting off his ability to breathe as the skin drew tighter over the front of his throat than it had any right to be.

"Unff... Dad... Please..."

He didn't know why he was slipping back into calling his stepfather that, but it felt right in the moment - maybe he could implore him to go easy on him? He was not a bad son, not really, just...a teenager? But Jack had always been quick to anger even if he had never once raised his paw to him, never physically hurt him. That didn't mean that thrown up paws and raised voices, shouting voices, had not become more and more common during their relationship - especially after his dad moved in.

But his dad wouldn't hurt him...right? Marcus could only hope, even as he was dragged like a sack of meat over to the sofa, his body scrabbling, weak, yet easily manageable by the horse. Through it all, he couldn't help but notice just how much bigger the stallion was than him, his heart pounding, aching, a sick feeling churning in his gut. For it was as if in slow-motion that he was forced to take in the hot spill of the equine's pink shaft, speckled with just a touch of grey. He would not have seen it if he had not been up close and personal with it and there was nothing that Marcus wished for more than to have that space back, to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

Yet what could he do? He could fight...but where would that get him? He didn't know. He wanted to be home, in his bed, yet the place no longer felt like his home, not even as he weakly twitched against the stallion's paw.

"Unff... Quit your squirming, brat."

Marcus trembled. He hadn't been called that for years, yet he saw the lines of hard anger in his stepfather's body, how his muscles tensed, contracted where they did not need to. There was something there, something darker, something that had been held back for all the years that he had been there. Built-up anger? Fear chilled the pit of Marcus' stomach.

He should have been able to fight back, as a Pitbull, but he quailed, whimpering, his stepfather rubbing his flaccid cock over his muzzle, reeking of male musk. It was huge, even soft, and the dog feebly tried to pull back and was dragged in even more forcefully. It was almost laughable how much difference there was in the physical strength between the stallion and the dog, the little bitch that he was down on his knees.

Jack's words swam around his head, the stepfather that he had never really gotten on with, but had never thought that things would turn so dark and so twisted with.

"Open up, bitch. I'm not sitting here for my health."

Jack sank back into the comfortable, plush sofa as if he was a king on his throne, relaxing there, the seat cushions bowing lightly under his weight. But it was his home and his household with him at the head and he wasn't at all going to be put out of his place by a stepson who had been thinking that he was bigger than he was for so many months, even years, already. It was time to show him who the real boss and stud of the house was.

"Get your gob open, son, I'm not going to fucking tell you twice."

Gasping, panting, shaking his head, the Pitbull struggled to resist, groaning, whimpering, trying to appeal to his stepfather's better side. Yet when he tried to resist, a finger was hooked into the corner of his lips and he was forced to open up, a fat, thick cock-head wedged inside.

"Mmmph!"

The worst was yet to come, however, his stepfather holding his head down halfway on his cock, which was, thankfully, not far enough to gag him. He shuddered with the shock of it. Even though he had fooled around some, it was the first dick he'd had in his muzzle and, well...he didn't goddamn want it there! It was soft and squishy with a touch of firmness to the core, the medial ring all wrinkly before the stallion was fully hard. The dog did not dare think of what was to come, not even as he froze in place.

He didn't want to aggravate Jack. He'd never wanted to piss off his stepfather, but that was all that he'd seemed to end up doing, even if he was entirely unaware of it. And Marcus was about to learn just what the consequences of "pissing off" his stepfather were...

The first trickle of urine had him jerking back, but his father jammed his head down forcibly, not allowing him the option. It was not for him, never for him, not as the rank smell of piss rose to the dog's nostrils, eyes wide and bulging, shock coursing through him with every pound of his rapidly beating, driving heart.

What the...fuck? His stepfather was using his goddamn maw like a toilet! And there was nothing he could do about it, freezing, fearing angering him more, even as confused horror railed him. His heart pounded so hard that the dog thought he was going to be sick, heaving, grunting, panting, wanting to be free. But if he didn't do it... The threat of being out on the streets quelled him.

What the hell was he supposed to do? It was wrong! All fucking wrong!

"Who's going to believe you, son?" His stepfather mocked, as if he could hear what Marcus was thinking. "You or me? You think you're a big tough dog but I'm going to show you that you're just a whiny little bitch really, nothing more than that."

Marcus trembled. No... No, it wasn't happening. No, he couldn't see anyone believing him over his stepfather, not now... Maybe if he'd been younger, if he'd been more vulnerable, though he didn't want to think about the horror of that. It had all come to a head when he'd been eighteen, that much was clear, the moment that he had stepped that toe too far out of line and his stepfather had finally thought that he had a hoof in showing him.

His thoughts swirled, though they couldn't take him away from the swill of urine in his mouth. He tried to push it back out with his tongue, but only ended up grossly lapping up against the stallion's cock, further adding to his horror. Marcus tried to gag but his head was shoved down even further, forcing him to drink, to gulp, his throat working against his will. All his body knew, in that respect, that he had to swallow a liquid that was in his mouth, a time-honoured reflex that had been with him since birth.

Suck. Swallow. Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp it all down. He had to drink, even as his eyes watered, piss sloshing about his mouth as he moaned, grunting, shaking where he knelt. It was a stark contrast between them in how weak he was, holding on there, groaning, trying not to taste too much of the piss. Yet it was easier, at least for him, to close his lips around the flaccid girth, though it was much larger, noticeably so, than his own cock when it was soft too. That was just another added humiliation for him as his stepfather pressed his head down, the dog whimpering in sheer embarrassment.

"Son..." He grunted. "If you'd fucking listened to a damn thing I told you...unff...I wouldn't have to punish you like this!"

Did that make it his fault? Marcus' head ached as he knelt there, his paws on his thighs, not knowing what else to do. His dad, his stepfather... He'd never acted like that with him before. Yet there was nowhere at all for his mind to take him away to as a steady stream of rancid piss flowed into his mouth. The stallion had not even done him the courtesy of pushing to the back of his throat, allowing it slip down without him having to taste it, but, as it was, piss swilled around his tongue and teeth. All the canine could do was heave and fight down the urge to retch, the strong, putrid aroma clawing at his sensitive nostrils.

"Heh..." Jack's eyes cruelly latched onto him, as if every frustration that he had had in the last five years, right back when he had come into Marcus' life, even before he'd married his mother and moved in, was coming to a head. "Yeah, that's right, piss-slut. Take it all down. If that's all you think you're getting, you're gonna be sorely mistaken, bitch..."

His stepfather grunted, the stream tapering off to a dribble.

"Yeah... Now, let's see what that mouth can do. You didn't think you were going to get to stay here for free, now, did you, bitch?"

He almost wished that his stepfather was still calling him his son. It would have made it easier, at least for him, even if there was some horrible, tiny part of Marcus that thought that, somehow, it was still his fault, in a way that he did not understand. He didn't want to think about all the little rules he'd broken, not caring about anything much, even if he had been a little more studious than most. Not enough to be a nerd, but his studies and work in school wasn't going to do him any good now that he was on his knees before his stepfather.

Jack's musk washed over him as his nose was pushed down, the length of the stallion's cock hardening up, slowly but surely, inside him muzzle. Somehow, the scent was even more potent with the reek of piss to colour it, marking his mouth, even having dripped down his chin. It was an intoxicating, helplessly so, earthy aroma that might have had him leaning into it under better circumstances, not knowing what else to go, grunting softly in the back of his throat as he trembled.

Maybe, if he was obedient...things would be okay. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe...

But not maybe. His stepfather hardened up fully within his maw, forcing his stepson to choke on his cock as if there truly was no hint of care or consideration for Marcus in his mind at all. The dog really did struggle then, heaving and panting, chest shuddering, yet a cock impaling the back of his throat was not as easy to escape from as he might have liked, eyes wide and straining, writhing back and forth.

He cried out, the thick sweaty scent overpowering him, closing in around him. Lose yourself, it seemed to say, though it was nowhere near as delirium inducing as the slip of alcohol down his throat. Never had Marcus wanted to be blind drunk as he heaved and panted, trying to hold fast, his stepfather using his muzzle as nothing more than a sex toy, a wet fleshlight, grinding his mouth back and forth over his cock.

"Mmm," the stallion groaned mockingly. "Nothing like a good, hot muzzle to fuck after pissing, hey?"

He laughed, but Marcus didn't see what was so funny about it. He was not so sure that he would see anything funny in anything as his stepfather fucked his muzzle, pressing down on his tongue with that fat length of stallion meat. The medial ring was more defined, once the horse had become hard, but the dog didn't know what to do with it, grunting and whimpering, trying to shake his head, his jaw locking open as he was left without a finger wedged into the corner of his lips anymore.

"Ah... Better, bitch, you can learn some shit then. Who'd've thunk it?"

Marcus shuddered. No... No, he wasn't stupid, why did his stepfather think that? He wanted to tell his stepfather that, but he no longer felt that he had any place there, drifting, falling. Maybe he was the submissive slut that his stepfather had told him he was, that he was in his place.

But all the Pitbull knew was that he didn't want to be tossed out on the street, that he had to have time to work things out, to see what was going to happen next. That was the only thing that he could focus on as he allowed, helplessly, not seeing any other option for him, his stepfather to roughly, crudely, drag his head back and forth, tongue wet and slavering with more than just saliva. He drooled thickly, not able to swallow with his mouth wedged open to such an extent, his cock well and truly secured within his own sheath, for there was nothing there that could turn Marcus on, not like that. Not when it was against his will.

Rape. The word entered his mind unbidden, though it was as if there was something still in his mind that was trying to hold him back from that horrific reality, to let him know that it was okay, that he didn't have to think too deeply on it. It was all that it was, nothing more than that, his body bruised and broken, aching as if he had been knocked around. Yet what did it even count as while he was submissively sucking on his stepfather's cock as he moaned around him.

"Yeah, slut..."

No... No, he wanted to tell Jack. It was not a moan of lust but something darker, something plaintive, something that had more voice to it, or so Marcus had thought, than a whine. But his stepfather didn't care about that, only pinning him down, holding him there, not caring for anything more than his pleasure, his control, his dominance. What more did his stepfather, after all, have to worry about?

"What a little bitch, taking your father's cock," Jack mocked him, eyes glinting with dark triumph. "Maybe you like this, huh, being a dick-sucking whore..."

Marcus shivered, but he didn't say anything, his mind blocking out a fragment of his reality, even if the musk cut through. The potent aroma of stallion, the male masculinity of musk that even Marcus' own did not feel as if it could hold a handle to, wrapping around him, drawing him in, dragging him down. It was something that his mind could focus on to the exclusion of all else, even if the carpet, thankfully, of the living room was a little gentler on his knees.

Yet his stepfather would not hold back, could not hold back, even if Marcus had never seen him at the point of orgasm before. Walking in on him accidentally in the bathroom was about all that had been done in the past, though the Pitbull had tried to burn that image from his mind. But he could not ignore how his father thrust harder, half-standing, grunting, leaning over him a little, hunched forward like a wild beast in rut.

Harder and harder, he had to grind in, stroke after stroke stretching his throat while he hacked and gagged around it, his throat bulging obviously from the thick meat of his stepfather's cock. It was a wonder that he was able to even take it at all, with so little experience, for the Pitbull had never sucked on anything like that before, perhaps not beyond even his fingers. What - he was only eighteen! He was never meant to be experienced.

Yet the Pitbull got a crash course in taking a hot and ready load straight down his throat as the stallion thrust and ground, neighing out in triumph with his tail striking the air, unloading into his bitch. There were no more words to come from Jack's lips as he took his pleasure lustfully and raunchily from his son's muzzle, grunting, groaning, not caring one bit about who heard him. He had everything he wanted right there, a slut on show, a doggy bitch to satisfy his every need, high on the adrenaline of staking his claim over Marcus at long last.

Marcus trembled, aching deeply. Yet he had to focus, drops of slimy cum somehow making their way into his mouth, despite the cock being crammed, flaring, into the back of his throat. Maybe he was coughing, maybe he was struggling, but all of that seemed so very far away from Marcus in the moment that it no longer mattered, not at all, not to him. All he could do was kneel there, hoping that it would pass, that the hot load slipping down to his stomach would not be something that lingered in his mind for too long.

The musk of his stepfather's seed, however, was even more potent than his sweat, the earthen aroma of dominant equine infiltrating his lungs. Without thinking, when that cock drew back a little, he inhaled - he had to. Yet it was that with the thick cum slipping over his soft, flexible tongue and more that sent his head spinning, confused delirium twisting everything.

He had sweated without knowing it, the pads of his paws wet where the glands were located, his ears pinned back, though Marcus had no intention at all of wiping it off or even saying anything about it. He didn't trust his stepfather, not one bit, not to hurt him, not to play fair. Every rule that had been laid down before now seemed to have purely existed to be broken, to bring him whimpering down to his knees. Maybe his stepfather had set him up to fail, though who was going to say otherwise?

No one was going to know. He... He wouldn't tell them. What he had to do was to obey, dragged up, his stepfather slipping something cold and metallic around his wrists, locking them behind his back.

Marcus shuddered. Handcuffs. Figured. His light mind fell darker, more sordid, as if it was only to be expected that he was going to be used, abused, that something worse was to come. He didn't honestly have all that much energy left in him, stumbling, holding back his curses. Already, his stepfather had him more obedient, not swearing, trying to be a good bitch boy for him.

Maybe he had never held all that high a concept or opinion for himself to begin with. Who was to say?

"Get in there!"

He was shoved onto his stepfather's bed, the room plain, as if his mother did not really sleep there, gasping, grunting, his jeans yanked down. The stallion tore through his belt as if it didn't hold any barrier to Jack at all, laughing out loud, shoving him face down on the bed.

"If you were better behaved, I could not handcuff you, bitch," his stepfather sneered. "But I rather like my little bitches like this."

Marcus whined, his eyes plaintive, though the dog might as well have been gagged for all the words he managed to get out. He was just there, a vessel, a hole... And he had never thought that his life would end up like that.

Marcus panted, wriggling in place, trying to shift his weight, to thrash. Maybe his stepfather would think that something was wrong, would stop, would take care of him again. Yet Jack had never exactly been either the most loving or caring of stepfathers, so it was hardly a stretch to see him taking a more dominant paw entirely.

The reek of his stepfather's piss lingered in his mouth, the dog's cheeks and neck burning as he shook his head, trembling in place. No, he wanted to say, please stop. Yet the words would not leave the Pitbull's lips, not as he was groped, manhandled, moved around the bed as his stepfather even dragged off his jeans and boxers in one go.

His cock was not hard, of course it wasn't. He wasn't into it, no, wanted to be anywhere else, but everything felt as if it was happening through a screen, watching it occur even as he felt it.

It was confusing. The finger in his arse, the paw groping his backside. The mocking words, telling him what a useless bitch he was, that he couldn't do anything right, not without someone in control of him.

"Dunno how I'm going to find room in this twinky little arse for my dick," the stallion laughed, his cock already mostly hard again, ready to go with nearly no refractory period. "Split you open... But how else is anyone to show you, bitch, what a dog-puss is for?"

A...dog-puss? That didn't make sense, was crude enough to drag him back to reality as his stepfather groped his sheath and squeezed his nuts - so hard that it shocked him into a yelp.

"That wasn't that hard, bitch," Jack sneered. "If you think a clench like that is enough to squeal and squirm... Boy, you've got another think coming."

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to do, didn't want to listen, not as his stepfather laughed at his small cock. It might have been moderate for a canine, but it was laughable against a horse, everything that Marcus may have had to offer falling by the wayside of a bigger, more dominant stud than him.

"Next time I'll have you under my desk while I'm working," Jack said, eyes greedy with dark intensity. "Sucking my dick... Hah, I won't even have to get up then to take a leak, not with your tiny mouth wrapped around my dick, isn't that something?"

"No... Sir... Please..."

Jack grinned and cupped a paw to his ear, twitching it back and forth. His fingers, which had been toying with his new bitch's tail hole, pushed in, spreading him open. Marcus yelped.

"What was that? Didn't catch it, boy."

Of course, Marcus didn't have the words to say anything more, not as his stepfather ruthlessly fingerfucked him, though his head swirled, his cock hardening, responding horribly to it all. It was not too much, not when it was just a couple of fingers, enough for his body to experience pleasure without any pain. He shuddered, confused by his traitor of a body and how it reacted, the bedsheets rumpling under him, gaze avoiding the many family photos that were at least set around the bedroom in an act of personalisation.

He didn't need to be reminded of better times.

The stallion's cock throbbed and twitched, filling with blood, a hot spill of pre-cum at the tip once again reminding Marcus of how woefully inadequate he was. It was humiliating to be set side by side with the stallion as he was fingered against his will, his body quivering, reacting, not knowing what to do. He groaned and tried to shake his head, but he was on his knees with his torso shoved down to the bed in such a way that the motion was impossible.

Away, away... Dimly, he thought of escape. The window. The door. No, neither were options. His stepfather would catch him in an instant and then he would be back right where he'd started, grunting and groaning, a not so obedient slut that his stepfather had finally decided to make some use of.

Those were not his words; they were his stepfather's. On and on, he told him how he would fall before him.

"Nothing more than a cock sucking bitch," Jack hissed through his teeth, more roughly banging the dog's arse with his fingers, even without lubrication. "You weren't good for anything and now you're mine. Just give in, be an obedient cock sucking slut... Keep a roof over your head here like a good little bitch boy."

Yes, that was what he had to do, though Marcus clung onto the thought that it was only temporary, hating every moment, how his stepfather's fingers pulled and dragged within him. It was almost good, his cock throbbing, drooling pre-cum, yet the horrors of his mind could not be overcome simply by a dose of pleasure. And neither could they be drowned out by his stepfather adjusting him, arse up, shoving him face-first into the familiar smelling sheets, his moist, wet nose twitching furiously.

No lube. Of course not.

Marcus quailed as Jack lined up, but the first thrust was not raw and powerful, not as he'd expected it to be. It was slow, a grind, slowly stretching him open, though Marcus doubted that that made the pain any better. It just had him howling, lost in the moment, fighting tooth and nail even with his paws cuffed behind his back, wrenching himself back and forth maniacally too late to do anything about freeing himself.

Out, out... But there was no out, not as his stepfather's cock penetrated him deeply, past the thicker pulse of the medial ring, the flat head burrowing deeper. The dog whined sharply, gasping, sweating too much, nearly passing out as his stepfather thrust.

The stretch. The grind. The push of a foreign object up his virgin arsehole.

He wanted none of it and his stepfather did not care, words falling away as he devolved into masculine grunts, thrusting and grinding with single-minded yearning intent. Jack could have everything he wanted and more too, of course, with his newest bitch boy to service him, a hot, tight arsehole wrapped around his cock. Who cared if it was against Marcus' will as he brought the boy back into line, where he belonged?

Marcus whined, pleading, begging, whimpering, though hardly any words passed his lips as he was used as a sex toy, his backside a hole for his father to get off in. It was comical, almost, how much the stallion dwarfed him, a dominating, dark force towering above him. But it made it all the clearer that there was nothing he could do about it, helpless, weak, nothing. If he'd been stronger, maybe he could have fought back, done something - even left the house. And yet what did it say about him that he had done it, sucked his dad's cock, that he had given in so quickly?

The pain blistering through his anal passage came with a throb of pleasure, but that was small, minuscule, even his cock having softened from the penetration. His body could not take it, not like that, for it was not his choice, not his pleasure, need coursing through, pound after pound of that cock sending his head spinning.

Too much... Really, too much. His backside burned with searing push after push, though more and more of that cock drove into his exposed backside until he cried out, his stepfather bottoming out inside him. It was there that the stallion stayed, just for a moment, as if he was savouring the deep penetration, having fit every inch of his cock into his stepson's backside.

"Unff... So fucking tight... Not for long though."

Marcus gave a shuddering gasp.

"Dad... No... Please..."

Yet those three words, three little words that he managed to get out, didn't help him. Nothing would save him as his stepfather fucked him, not even referring to him as the "only" father figure that he had, the fur of authority in the house.

Briefly, as his arse was fucked raw, he tried to think of something else, if he'd done something really wrong. If he'd listened to his stepfather before, maybe things could have been different. But it was not his fault, never would be his fault, not as his backside ached deeply, a gut-wrenching twist that seemed to pull all the way through him. Even the slick slide of pre-cum spilling into his backside was something that he could not so simply set aside.

It was...something. But "something" that he would consider at another time, when his head was clearer, maybe.

"Look at you...taking your own dad's cock," Jack sneered, punctuating his words with a particularly savage thrust of his hips. "What a slut, what a whore..."

But his thrusts sped up, stroke by stroke, the stallion leaning into the moment. He was as much prey to instinct as anyone else and ground in to a steady slap of his hips on the dog's upturned arse, ears twitching to catch his whimpers. They were his favourite part, so far, even after making the slut drink his piss.

He had to fuck, had to cum, though Marcus pressed his muzzle down into the sheets, hiding away, chest shuddering. If he bore through the powerful, penetrating thrusts of his stepfather, things would be okay. He could get through it and think about things in the morning.

Yet the slap of his stepfather's hips rose to a crescendo, the dominant stallion leaning over him, pounding, fucking, grunting coarsely through his teeth. He held fast, clenching his paws into fists, for he could not grip the sheets for something to anchor him down, not while they were bound. His arse screamed for mercy, pain blossoming, yet even that faded to a deep, dull ache powering through the pit of his gut, snarling and leaping, heaving for some manner of precedence.

But he could not, would not, not as his stepfather threw his head back and gave a dominant whinny of triumph. He had taken his prize and filled his stepson's backside with his cream, pump after pump of viscous stallion seed flooding his tail hole. If the Pitbull had thought that he could feel his cum in there before, the pre-cum, he was shocked at how heavy it left him, sinking into his lower abdomen, even giving him the feeling that he was bloated out in some way.

His vision grew hazy, finding it difficult to breathe with his nose crushed into the bed. Still, it was almost over, at least for the moment, the dog broken, sobbing weakly, though Marcus hardly even felt that he had the energy for that. As he emptied his nuts into his stepson, Jack chuffed a low, cruel laugh, reaching around to grope his sheath and nuts, cock only slightly slipped from his sheath. It had been all that his body had been able to manage.

"You took your father's cock like a pro, boy," he mocked, softly with a darker edge to his tone. "Maybe this is what you were meant to do... Little cock sucker. Do a good job and I won't chuck your arse out on the streets...unff... Isn't that what you want?"

Gulping and sniffling, Marcus thought so, though it was easier for his cock to slide out, perhaps the relief of his body finally allowing it to simply respond to the stimulation. It was not pleasurable, but it was a relief, even as his stepfather palmed it, stroking it, teasing it, until he could not help but release onto the bed with a pitiful whimper.

"Huh... Figures." Jack snorted. "Getting off to your father's dick under your tail. You really were made for this."

He wasn't. It was just his body responding to what he was doing, trying his best to hang on, to keep some semblance of "Marcus" in there. But the Pitbull could only heave and pant, giving in, his eyes half-lidded. What even was the point in fighting anyway? Something he could not put a name to clenched around his heart, but he could not find it in himself to care.

Everything he knew about his life was about to change. From the ache in his arse to the dominant, cruel grin to his father.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.