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The Governor's Gala was going swimmingly, a reflection of California's progress under Diane Foxington's administration. Held in the backyard of the Stanford Mansion, it featured every major name and face in California politics. More importantly, there were no distinctions between each attendee. Though mostly human, the anthro representatives were among them without transgression or segregation. They mingled within assorted groups, regardless of clique or affiliation, treating the status of race as nebulous as it ought to be.

That's what Diane wanted. Years of campaigning and legislative action made tonight possible. A tactic she called "aggressive diplomacy" meant an open forum and direct conversations between allies and opponents alike. They were all in this together, Diane insisted. It was time they started acting like it. And so they did, achieving a level of political equanimity oft dreamed of but seldomly grasped. Diane liked to give credit to the Californian people and their leaders for their cooperation, but it was impossible not to feel a sense of great pride whenever she saw a congregation of so many people once divided. An anthro herself, she could tell herself that her actions and decisions were making the state a better place for people who looked like her.

But the work was never done. In the middle of a party she was going from group to group, introducing herself to new faces and asking how they were. Her sleeveless, turquoise dress could be seen floating across the courtyard from group to group. Her thick orange legs, exposed through the thigh-cuts in her dress, were working overtime. Among the continuous chatter of partygoers was the staccato clop-clop of her heels marching. Diamond earrings jingled from beneath her sharp, triangular fox ears. She would surprise a group with her appearance, shake paws and ask names. Nobody at the party went the whole night without having the chance to talk to her.

A string quartet played a jaunty tune at one corner of the courtyard. A long row of tables draped in satin cloth groaned with hors d'oeuvres. There was a swan, its neck bent into a fanciful curve and sitting on a bed of pedals, carved out of ice. The punch bowl was plentiful and the nearby concrete fountain gurgled away, its winged cherubs posed daintily across its facade. On a moonless night there were only the streetlights to keep the courtyard lively. Between each one was strung a line of paper lanterns glowing with a tiny tin candle. Each and every facet of the party was something meticulously added and doted on per Diane's explicit directions. Minor misplacements bothered her. She wasn't about to let something small ruin her party.

Fortunately for her, nothing did. She spent the entire night performing her many introductions and pawshakes, ensuring that everyone was having a good time and that all needs were met. If anyone had found something lacking or out of place, she disarmed their complaints with an infectious smile and joyous charm. There were nothing but compliments and thanks for what she had put together, something she never failed to express her great appreciation for.

The night was winding down. Attendees were on their third or fourth drink. Ties were starting to loosen and words were slurred. The quartet was slowing the tempo, no doubt a result of a growing exhaustion. Several food platters had gone dry and the once heavy punch bowl was now but a puddle. It was time to wrap things up. Diane grabbed a flute of Champagne and a fork from a server's tray then walked over to the fountain, at the head of the courtyard. Her dress and fluffy fox tail whirled around her ankles as she turned to face the crowd. She tapped the flute with her fork.

Ding-ding-ding-ding.

The quartet lowered their strings. Everyface turned at once.

She held out her glass. "Everyone! I wanted to thank you all for coming! Tonight was a great night, and it makes me so glad to see everyone gathered here having a good time." She spoke evenly and loudly, scanning her face from side to side and meeting the gaze of everyone in front of her at least once. It was a trick she had learned after years of speech-giving. It made sure everyone felt like they were being spoken to. She did not notice Derek, her secretary, standing aside, giving her a pensive stare. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was waiting for her to finish.

"I just wanted to remind everyone before you all leave to drive home safely. Call an Uber if you have to. We've all had a fun night tonight; don't ruin it by hurting yourself."

Derek moved his hands in front of him and bowed his head impatiently. His toe was just short of tapping.

Diane lifted her glass. "Cheers, everyone. Have a good rest of your night."

Everyone held up their glasses. "Cheers!" With that came a slow but gradual mass exodus from the backyard. The moment it began Derek made a quick speed walk towards Diane.

She saw him coming over. "Derek! What's up?"

He didn't say anything. A concerning urgency dictated his approach. He grabbed her upper arm and brought his face up to her ear. He whispered something.

Diane's smile faded in an instant. She looked at him. "Where is he?" The geniality in her tone was gone, replaced by something much more curt.

"Here," Derek said.

"Here? In the building?"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

She scowled. "Well why did they bring him here? Someone could've seen him! Someone might have seen him!" she hissed just above a whisper. A few people turned to look as they left the courtyard. She saw them and flashed a fake smile, something every politician had in their toolbox. She grabbed Derek's shoulder and faced him towards the fountain. "Who brought him here? Did anyone see?"

"Your boys did, and no. He wasn't pinched in any way. They came in the side, between the two buildings. They parked there and hustled him inside. If anyone did see him, they wouldn't have suspected anything."

Diane sneered. "Let's hope. Dammit." She ran her paw up her forehead and sighed. "Where is he now?"

"In the basement, already set up for you."

"Really? Already?"

"You said you wanted at him ASAP."

"Yeah, I did. I just didn't think it would be this soon. I forget how good you guys are sometimes."

"Do you want us to bring him somewhere else?"

"No, no. No point in moving him when we've already got him where we want him. I'll take care of him."

"Alright. Your stuff is in the basement waiting with him."

"Good." She turned around and speed walked across the courtyard, towards the mansion. Not how I thought tonight would go, but whatever. Her heels clopped loudly as she stormed across the patio. Two state representatives came to say goodbye. She blew past them like a rocket, straight through the back doors and into the mansion. Derek assured them everything was OK and said there was some urgent business before running after her. He locked the door behind him.

Diane was standing between two halls, looking both ways, her champagne still in her paw. "Which way is the basement? I forget how big this place is sometimes."

"On your right," Derek said.

"Got it. I remember." She stormed that way and rounded a corner to see one of her "boys", a seven foot tall shire horse absorbing most of the hallway space he stood in. Next to him was the door leading to the basement. "Hannibal," Diane greeted.

"Ma'am," he greeted back. "He's down here."

"I know. Anybody else?"

"Just him and Zauie. Your stuff is down there too."

"Alright. Perfect. Let me see him."

"Right this way." Hannibal opened the door for her. In front of her was a wooden staircase leading into the basement where a light was on. She put the flute to her lips and threw her head back, chugging the champagne in one hearty gulp. She passed the flute to Hannibal, lifted up her dress, and carefully descended the stairs. Hannibal closed the door behind her.

It was quiet down in the basement, shut off from whatever was left of the party and the dying city life outside of it. The wooden steps creaked beneath her heels. A stern look was on her face. Her earrings continued to bounce around her ears. She came off the bottom step. The basement was used as a storage for both old appliances and bottles of wine that were stacked on a wall to her right. The water heater was on the opposite side of the steps, next to the lone window through which the street light poured. The floor was concrete. A red rug covered most of it. The ceiling held the many support beams holding up the first floor above Diane's head.

Zauie, a Belgian draft horse and a mountain of a man, stood off to the side, in front of the wine rack. His hands were held behind his back. He looked at Diane, but he did not say a word. Diane said nothing in turn. A folding table was laid out. On it was a suitcase.

In front of all that was Diane's prisoner.

He was a hyena, a stocky one, sitting in a wooden chair at the very center of the basement. His ankles were tied to the chair's legs by white rope. More of it held his wrists together behind the chair's backrest. He was naked. A rotund belly sporting fine, light tan fur jutted over his thighs. A darker hazel covered the rest of him, constellated with dozens of black spots. His pecs were thick, a theme that carried down his brawny arms and swollen traps. The blonde hair on his head was cut into a tight fade that tapered into a sharp rat tail at the back of his neck. A black blindfold was wrapped around his visor. The gag sinking into his cheeks kept a rag stuffed in his mouth.

He shivered in his seat, forced to breathe through his nose. He heard the footsteps of another person entering the basement, but couldn't see who. The silence was agonizing. He had been herded into a limo, blindfolded, then rushed into a building where he was hauled downstairs and strapped to a chair. Why? He had an idea, but couldn't confirm it until someone spoke to him, and ever since he'd gotten into the limo his captors had remained dreadfully reticent.

Worst of all, however, was the predicament his balls were in. The seat he sat on had a slot in it. After stripping him nude and sitting him down, his captors stuffed his nuts through the hole like loading a potato gun. His chocolate-colored purse rang with pain. Two sliding doors on the underside of the seat choked it, squeezing his plums into the skin and making it go taut. His penis sat between his thighs heavily, currently withheld by his foreskin.

Diane was already scrutinizing his delicates as she made her way to the table where her suitcase waited for her. She nodded at Zauie. He nodded back and retreated up the stairs to leave her to her gruesome business. The sound of his massive feet climbing the stairs startled the hyena. No, it wasn't the same person who had just come down. Whoever that person was, he was alone with them now.

Diane continued to be silent. The longer he stewed in ignorance the more susceptible he was to exaggerating the threat at hand. With his nuts in a vice, he had every reason to think the worst. Diane got close to him. She heard the rapid sniffs going in and out of his nose, flaring his nostrils. His dark brown snout was opened around the rag jammed between his teeth. Diane squatted and looked at his balls trapped beneath the seat. Fat and heavy, they looked ready to pop through his scrotum. Perfect.

She stood up and went to the table where the suitcase was. The latches flipped open loudly, once again making the hyena jolt and inadvertently tug on his nuts. Diane opened the lid, revealing an assortment of tools seemingly innocuous at first, but laden with the utmost vile potential when juxtaposed with her prisoner's position. The suitcase was lined with black foam. There was a thick hemp rope about a foot long, knotted at one end to the size of a grapefruit. Just beneath it, smaller but infinitely more menacing, was a crop rider. The third item was a small spiked collar on a small chain leash. Diane grabbed the rope and walked back up to the hyena. She reached behind his head, untied the gag and pulled it off. Next came the rag in his mouth, letting him breathe.

"Guhhh! Hahhhh! Hahhhh..." He chopped his lips. His mouth was painfully dry, all the way down to the throat. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Oh, I think you know exactly what you did," Diane said.

He frowned behind his blindfold. That voice. "I... I'm not sure. I swear to God."

"You're a journalist, aren't you? What's your name?"

He wanted nothing more than to keep that secret, but he knew that wouldn't be wise. "Bruce Forte, ma'am."

"Bruce, that's right. You've been digging your nose in places you shouldn't have, haven't you?"

The pit in his stomach grew heavier. "I was investigating a gentrification scheme in the neighborhood where the meteor hit. The city revealed plans to turn it into a condo, instead of rebuilding the neighborhood. I was looking into it, seeing who was behind it and going to build it."

"Oh yeah? What did you find?"

He stayed silent. The answer was a lot, but anything he divulged was clearly going to put a lot of innocent people in danger. "Nothing yet."

Diane laughed. "Well, that's a lie. My boys wouldn't have snatched you up for me if you hadn't found anything. I don't like it when people lie to me Bruce." She pulled up her arm, dangling the rope from her paw. She swung it around, whooshing it through the air like a ball and chain. Her knees bent, dropping her into a squat. His balls came into view beneath the seat. "Do you know what I do to people who lie to me, Bruce?"

The sound of the rope, an unknown object to him, whirling through the air made his spine quiver. His dry throat made the following syllable almost impossible to utter, even in the feeble manner in which it came: "No?"

Diane rolled her arm back and swung the rope up between the legs of the chair. The knot crashed right into his sack, between the orbs, smashing them up into the seat.

Thump!

The entire chair was ripped from the ground as Bruce's body jerked. A sledgehammer of pain ripped through his entire body, forcing his jaws open and letting loose a blood-curdling shout. His body bounced and rattled in the seat for several seconds, rocking the chair on its legs, scraping the rug. His mouth stayed open in a silent scream, showing Diane his razor teeth and ridged palate. He was forced to stop by his movements pulling his balls into the slot. His upper body heaved once he found his breath again. "Hahhhhh! Hahhhhhhhh!" The pitch was high, almost feminine. His jaw clenched, seething every whimper and growl through his teeth.

Diane was standing back, smiling as she watched his face contort through every phase of grief. "That's what I do to liars," she said proudly. "I can do that as many times as I need to. I have all night. It's up to you Bruce. Tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth and you can make it out of here with your balls intact."

It felt like they had already been crushed. Every name and bit of info was on tongue, ready to come spewing out and put an end to his misery. No! Don't put them through this too! He collected himself with a few rapid huffs through his teeth, sending spittle through his incisors and onto his belly. The pain faded, but did not cease altogether. It was about to get a lot worse.

"I... I don't know much else. They asked me to go look for leads on who was building those condos and who was buying them."

"Oh yeah?" Diane swung the rope into a whirl. "Who'd you find?"

"No one yet." The way he gritted his teeth and braced for the coming punishment betrayed his lie.

Diane twisted her lips. "Ehhhh, don't think so." She swung the rope.

Thump!

Another explosion of pain. He bowed over, letting fly another squeal. "Aahhhhhhhh!" He heaved his back forward as far as it would go. More spit bubbled and hissed through his clamped teeth as the air got trapped in his lungs again. A frightening shade of red rose to the surface of his cheeks. "Gahhhhhhhhhhhhh..." He snapped back into the backrest. "Oh fuck... Ahhhhhhhh shit..."

"Come on, Bruce." The rope whirled next to her fast enough to become a blur. "Names. Details. What did you find?"

He turned his head to the side, showing her his ivory canines as his lip furled back. His shoulders crested over the top of the chair with the bend of his spine. "I swear to God. I don't-"

Thump!

Extra hard this time, extra painful too. His words died in his throat. More chair-jostling thrashes. His backwards bend over the chair brought his whole head over it. He would've peeled all the way off if not for his balls being locked up the way they were. Having his ankles tied up was a redundancy. He slumped back into the seat, whining loudly. "Huhhhhh... God! Oh please, God!"

"Sweety, God can't save you now. Only the truth will." The rope whirled. "Names. Tell me. Now."

Bruce hyperventilated in his seat. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Fuck."

"Want me to hit you again?"

"Nononononononononononononononono! Wait! Hahhhh..." He gulped. "We know it's Carlton Realtor that's making the condo. And... and we know their minority owners."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

He grew quiet. "I can't remember them all."

She let the rope go limp. Her free paw reached under the seat and coddled his nuts. The hyena squealed. "Tell me the ones you remember or else these go bye-bye." A buzz of excitement echoed through her pawpads. His purse skin was leathery smooth. The eggs bundled up inside were as large as they were heavy.

"Hah! Hah! Hah! G-g-g-governor Diane Foxington! She was one of them! That's the biggest name we saw!"

Diane let go of him and stood up. She reached behind him, untied the blindfold, then swooped it off his head. His eyes blinked open, revealing a pair of shiny, cerulean irises. He squinted in the lamp light. It was behind her head, dangling from the ceiling, rendering her a towering silhouette. His pupils constricted slowly. Her blackened figure gained some color. His eyes went wide. He thought he'd recognized that voice.

The governor smirked. "Surprised?"

Bruce blinked and shook his head. The light was making his head throb, though not quite as badly as his balls. "Uh... Yeah... A little. I... Why? Why are you...?" So many questions. Which one to ask first?

"Hitting your balls with a rope?"

"Ahhh... Yeah. That."

She held it up and shrugged. "Well, if you know anything about how I run politics, I'm a woman of action. Never ask someone to do something you wouldn't do yourself."

"No... I mean like... Why am I strapped to a chair? Why is this happening at all?"

Her smile faded. "Well, Bruce. I've been working hard, very hard, to keep this state safe and happy for a long time. Doing so means cracking a few eggs, no pun intended. Some people like putting their noses where it doesn't belong. Looks like you've been doing that a lot lately. People like you make me look bad, make the whole state look bad. Lot of people look to me to make things better for them, and I have. It wouldn't do me or them any good if they found out I've done some things to help myself."

The disbelief was clear on his face. "You're building a condo over a neighborhood that was destroyed. How is that helping anybody?"

"It is helping people. Think of the revenue we'll bring in from having so many wealthy citizens."

"But... those people."

"Almost all of them are dead. How many was it? Over 12,000? Tragic. I was there, remember? I helped the survivors, if you can call them that. They all were out of the neighborhood when the meteor struck. Everyone who was home is dead. I mean, good luck surviving something like that. It'd be like surviving a nuke. Don't worry. They all have homes now. I made sure of it."

"But you could've made more homes!" His rage was beginning to boil. The only thing keeping his voice down from spilling over into indignity was the position of his sack and the weapon in her paw. "For people who were affected!"

"Everyone was affected. You don't have a meteor land outside of one of the busiest cities in the world without millions literally feeling its impact."

His jaw clenched, no longer out of pain. She saw his lip twitch into a snarl. "What makes you think those rich pricks felt it in any way as bad as the people living there did?"

Her grip on the rope tightened. The tendons in her forearms bulged. He noticed for the first time how athletic she was. The breadth of her thighs was not merely fluff or flab. It contained a dense core of well-honed muscle. Atop her heels she looked like a giant. "I'd watch how you talk about them," she growled. "Those are my friends you're talking about."

"Oh, you mean the ones who funded your campaign? The lobbyists who pasted your pretty face on every billboard across the state?"

"Yeah? What about them? You oughtta thank them for helping someone like me getting into office."

"Oh, should I? I'm in a chair getting my nuts pounded. I don't think I should thank y-"

Diane squatted. The rope went back, then swung into his balls.

Thump!

"-oooooooooouuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." He clamped his chin into his collar and doubled over. Whatever protest he had left evaporated under the heat of his pain.

"You'll thank me for not putting some pliers to them." Diane stood back up. She kicked her foot up and plowed the toe of her shoe into his chest. He and the chair went teetering backwards then crashing onto the floor with a loud clatter. Pain exploded across his arms where they were pinned between the backrest and the floor. Even more of it tore through his balls once they were pulled taut on their cords.

"Oh-hoooooohhhhhhh..." His two chocolate orbs bloated from the bottom of the seat, out at Diane. That and the pads of his feet were all she saw of him.

"Stay right there for me," she said before twirling around and returning to the suitcase. A jaunty tune whistled through her black lips as she put the rope back and grabbed the croprider. She slapped the shaft into her open palm. It hissed through the air and ended on a crisp whack! Bruce's heart plummeted. That did not sound good.

She waltzed back to him, snapping the rider into her paw at a grave tempo. Bruce felt his tailhole pucker with each snap. Sobs bubbled out of his chest. Something grazed the underside of his nuts. It sent a shudder through his body, making his toes curl. It stayed there, unmoving and unseen, but filling Bruce with such dread and anticipation that he felt ready to puke.

"Tell me, Bruce, did you really think you could go snooping around places without consequences?" She started rubbing the leather loop up and down his sack like a paint roll.

Spindles of discomfort crept up his spine and made him squirm. "Huhhhh... I'm a journalist... It's my job. Please... I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"I know, sweety. I'm not mad." She pulled the crop rider up. "Just teaching you a lesson, is all." It arced back down hard, snapping the leather across his bulbs.

Whack!

"Hah!" Ice picks of pain jabbed into his loins. "Hahhhh! Ahhhhh..."

"Too many journalists like you think they can derail my office."

Whack!

"I'm afraid that just won't do."

Whack!

"I put my heart and soul into running this state."

Whack!

"The people are happy."

Whack!

"Aren't I allowed a kickback or two?"

Whack!

Bruce didn't hear a word. He was busy squealing and squirming. Each strike across his boys was like a screenshot of agony. His jaw ached, he was clenching it so hard. The back of his head would bounce off the floor, fortunately cushioned by the rug. Neither of them noticed it yet, but his penis was growing erect. The tip crept up his thigh like a blooming flower, the glans sprouting from his foreskin to reveal its dark flesh glistening in precum. A single vein, thick like yarn, wound up the flank of his shaft, invigorated by the agony sending his heart into a furious drumroll.

Diane stopped whipping him, only to smush the crop into the cushy divot between his eggs and twist it. She looked down the barrel of her weapon, those crossed eyes glowing mad. "I don't know. Maybe people like you are useful. You keep me on my toes. A kind reminder that not everyone is on my side. Besides, it's fun watching men like you squirm." That was an understatement. Billowing between her legs and illuminating her panties was a certain heat. It made wearing the dress insufferable. Her toes were curling in her shoes while her nipples poked into the cushion of her bra. Every reminder that she wasn't supposed to be having fun fell aside whenever he moaned.

"Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Case in point. "Awww, poor baby." She lowered the crop and replaced it with the toe of her shoe. His flesh was rolled into a circle. "I bet you want out of that mean ol' chair, don't you?"

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhhh... Yes... Oh God, please."

She craned her head over the edge of the seat, down at his miserable visage. "You sure? Promise you'll be a good boy?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes. I'll be... I'll be a good boy. Oh fuck... Oh God..."

"Alright, but one wrong move and your balls are gone." Her foot came off his sack finally. Bruce gasped once he felt the ropes around his ankles coming undone. He fought the urge to kick them into the air both because the punishment would likely be severe and that his nuts were still firmly trapped in the seat slot. Diane took care of that next. The slot was a double-door system that closed on both sides of the hole. There were hooks that would latch onto knobs. She undid them so that they could slide off of his sack. The pain did not vanish, but the source of it had, letting it fade for the time being. It couldn't quite be described as a good feeling, but the absence of pain might as well have been a shot of fentanyl at that point. Diane gently poked his sack the rest of the way through the slot. His boys were free, for now.

Bruce was in no position to move from the chair. He was slumped atop the backrest like a sack of lard, constrained not by his scrotum but a learned helplessness that told him any and all movement would result in more pain. Interrupting his torpor was Diane coming around to the side of the chair and smirking down at him.

"Look at you. You men are all the same. Take a few whacks on your jewels and you turn off like a switch. I swear 'teste' is a better fit for weaklings than the word 'pussy'."

That was hard to argue with. With fluttering eyelids he smacked his lips. "Can I... Can I go?"

"No. Not yet. I'm having fun, and I'm gonna make sure you do too. Look." She stepped her shoe onto his penis, now even closer to being fully erect. That tumescent pillar squished beneath the point of her toes. His ballsack, now deflated, sat in a wrinkly clot just below. "You've already got a stiffy for me. Enjoying things, are we?"

He shook his head. "Noooooo..."

"Too bad, bitch. I am." Her foot came off his penis. She left him for the suitcase and came back with the leash and collar. The chain was snapped taut between her paws with the small collar dangling from her fist. "Ready to go for a walk?"

A tired groan squeaked out of him. "If I say no, will it change anything?"

"Nope."

He sighed. "Didn't think so."

Diane fell into a squat, throwing her knees through the gaps in her dress. Her thigh muscles bulged out the skin while her heated miasma introduced itself to Bruce's nose for the first time. She grabbed his scrotum and looped the collar around the root. Once again his nuts were smushed into the skin, stretching it. Diane stood up and tugged the leash. The chain snapped taut, and so did his cords.

"Hnngh!" His hips lifted off the chair, trying to ease the pressure. Diane simply kept pulling until he could go no higher.

"Easy now," Diane tutted. "Let's get you out of that chair." She stepped towards the head of the backrest, pulling his nutsack along the way and angling it towards his head. He was forced to squirm on his back, sliding his arms across the floor and from beneath the chair. They came to a stop on the rug, Bruce still on his back. "There we go. Isn't that better?"

His fruit were suspended in the air, capping the topside of the collar like a mushroom. He arched his back to keep his hips up, but that did very little to ease the tension. At least he wasn't in the chair anymore. "Ahhh... I think. Maybe..."

"Good. Now on your belly." She pulled the leash towards her. He was directed via his balls to the right, rolling onto his side and then onto his belly. His fattened rump jiggled when he came to a stop. A spritely yeen tail remained curled up his back, doing its best to wrench away the pain. "Good boy. On your knees."

Diane walked around behind him. The chain pressed into his thigh, making him lift his leg so that it could slide beneath his knee and come through his legs. His chin was on the rug, wrists still tied up on his back. Between his spotted hazel-hills she could see his puckered donut, a swollen crater of absolute black winking at her with his stuttered breathing. There was his scrotum, familiar and battered, then a turgid log of masculinity swinging between his thighs, drooling a single strand of thickish precum onto the rug below. She saw it flex defiantly, a display of his virile strength and not-so-veiled arousal, intentional or not. His chunky thighs were held open, letting that burdensome pendulum hang between invitingly.

Diane took a step closer, reeling the chain around her paw and tightening it. Bruce hissed and whimpered as his sack was pulled up into his taint where the root of his penis slimmed towards his tail hole. His cock angled back with it. The foreskin was peeled back, showing her the chevron in his glans and letting loose another glob of nectarine excitement. She rewarded the beauty of it by laying the crop back on his nuts and sliding it down. Bruce yelped. It didn't hurt, but by this point his mind and body were fully prepared for more agony.

"Easy, sweetheart. I'm not hurting you yet."

"Ahhhhh... My nuts are fucking squeezed... It's hurting already..."

"I know it does, but is that anything like I've done before? You know, like this?"

Whack!

"Ahh! Ahhhhhhh... No..."

"I didn't think so." She slid the crop between his thighs and waggled his dick back and forth. "You're as hard as a rock now. Something tells me you're enjoying it. You're staining the rug too."

He scrunched his face. "Nnnnnnnn, that's hardly in my control."

"No, but is in mine~"

Whack!

"Ahh!"

"I don't normally get to say this, but you've got a nice pair on you. I'm having too much fun."

"Hfffffffff... I noticed..."

"You've got a big butt too." She crossed her arm over her chest and smacked his cheek. It wobbled and bounced against its neighbor. That one was smacked too. Back and forth her arm went, punishing his haunches with a series of whips that left his mounds colored in red whelps. He hissed and grunted, but this was nothing compared to what his balls had gone through. He could've done this all day if he had too.

Alas, the break did not last forever. It came to an end with not another whack from the crop rider but a bare-footed kick in the nads. His reserved grunts from having his butt smacked quickly escalated back into another high-pitched wail. Diane calmly slipped her foot back into her shoe and tugged on the leash. "Come on. Sit up."

"Hrrgggnnhhhhhh..." He did so sluggishly. Any willpower he mustered was from the discipline she had quite literally beaten into him. Once he was up she slid the leash back under his leg so that she could stand in front of him with his cock and balls facing forward. His eyes hovered aimlessly, concentrated on nothing. The insides of his mouth could be seen as his jaw hung slack. Any sensation outside of his loins went unnoticed, not when his balls rang like a thousand bells being struck at once.

Diane snapped her fingers. "Hey. Look alive, loser. I'm still not done with you."

He could only murmur weakly. "Huhhh..."

She smirked. "I see. I've got something that'll get your attention." She turned around, kicking her leg over the leash so that it came through her legs, pulling the curtain of her dress aside. That came all the way up when she grabbed it, showing him the globular glory of her muscular, orange ass.

As she predicted, it made the Hyena's eyes come together at once. He almost recoiled at the stench, a collective wave of feminine heat, sweat, and booty smell. She pulled the leash, drawing his pouch taut and making him wince. She grinned down at him, over her shoulder. From where he knelt her shoulders looked impossibly broad, her ass threateningly fat. She pulled her panties down to her thigh then sank her fingers into the cushion of her right haunch to draw it aside. There was her pucker, lost in a canyon of light orange, distended so that the winkles came undone. Below that was her cunt, parted and gnarled, sighing a hot vapor of moist need that made his mouth water.

"Come on, now. You didn't think I'd do all that without making you do something for me, did you?" Another draw on the leash, another bite of pain. His face came into the sphere of her backside's raunchy influence. "Get yourself a good whiff, big boy. Taste it while you're at it, too."

She pulled the leash hard, swinging his body the rest of the way towards her and finally landing his face into her crack. His snout fell into a swamp of hot ass sweat, right over where her ring of muscle tickled and tweaked. Her paw came off her cheek, letting it crash back into place. He did not pull back. Once more his eyes began to wander, not that there was anything to look at other than a bloated canvas of clenching fox butt.

Shudders billowed through them both. Diane purred, Bruce groaned. "Ohhhh, there we go. That's it. That's what we need~"

Bruce groaned with agreement. "Hmmmmmmmmm~" A powerful inhale vacuumed through his nostrils, swelling his chest and intoxicating himself on her fumes. His chilly wet nose dug around her sphincter, whiffing up every spot and staining itself. He lashed at her with the first lap of his tongue, then the second, then the third. He wrapped her crater in a swirl of wet mouth muscle, adding his spit to the flood of bodily fluids flowing down her crack.

Diane's mouth fell open into a smiling O. "Ahahahah... Ahhhh... Oh, I bet you like that you fucking loser. You boys are all the same. So fucking pathetic." She leaned down and pulled the front of her dress aside. There he was, face deep in her ass, frenching her hole like it was a long-lost lover. Close to the rug was his pole, stiff like a board, still leaking, sticking out of his lap alongside his imprisoned nuts. She pinned her dress to her leg with the fist holding the leash. Down went the crop rider.

Whack!

He jolted hard. There was a muffled whimper from between her cheeks. It didn't slow him down. He went at her hole with an even sloppier tempo.

"Oh yeah?" teased Diane. "Now you're getting the idea."

Whack!

"Hmm! Hmmmmmm! Hmmmmmmmm..." Between each raspy sniff was a haughty breath and meaty schlock of his tongue.

"Mmmmmmm, that's a good boy. Keep it up."

Whack!

"Mmm!"

The growing heat in her loins was becoming too much to ignore. Lip clamped between her teeth, she had to put the crop down and finger herself. No point in buttering herself up anymore than she already was; she dipped her two fingers to the knuckle, bumping into her spongy G-spot and then hooking up across her pearl. Bruce felt her body quiver around his face while a groan rattled out of her throat. "Uhhhhhhhh, yes. Oh God. Good boy. Huhhhh..."

She didn't forget about his nuts. The quickening pace on her cunt was matched by a deeper pull on the leash. He dug his face deeper into her ass, groaning and gritting, hoping she'd cum soon and free him from the torment. However intense his misery, he didn't stop attacking her rim, digging his tongue into her pucker and lashing at her walls.

It did the trick. Diane's cruel stoicism melted at once. Her knees buckled and her face twisted. "Oh fuck... Huhhhh, that's it! Ohhh! Yes! Fucking-! God!" Joining the chorus of her moans and Bruce's tongue munching was the sound of water thudding the rug between them once her orgasm struck. A body-wide quake rattled the flesh of her legs and ass. Bruce helped keep her up with his snout jammed between her cheeks where he refused to stop tasting her hole. Her fingers didn't stop either, jabbing into the hissing flow of girl water that piddled onto the rug loudly. "Heeeeeeeuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhhuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh~~~!!!"

Her recovery was gradual, not coming to completion until long after the water was done spilling from her pussy and splashing Bruce's knees. Her breathing was staggered as she straightened herself out, pulling her ass off Bruce's face. Smeared across his features was a sickening mix of sweat and juices. The smell of her ass clung to his nose, inside and out. Breathing through his mouth did not spare him from inhaling it.

She gulped and composed herself with a roll of the shoulders. "Whoo... That was good. Mmm." After quickly pulling up her panties the dress came back over her legs, covering her shame as though nothing had happened. If not for the giant wet spot on the rug between her legs and the two glassy streaks running down her ankles she would've looked innocent. She faced the hyena one last time and tugged on the leash. "On your feet."

"Ahhh..." He shuffled on his knees for a few awkward moments. The basement swam around him. The floor tilted. He stood up eventually, towering over her, his dick hard like a rock.

"Mmm, good boy." She pulled into him and met her shoulder with his to form a right angle. The paw not holding the leash cupped his shaft. A sigh escaped him. Her pawpads were miraculously soft against his hot, leathery dick skin. She started to stroke him, fully admiring his length and girth for the first time. "Think you've learned your lesson?" she asked, looking up at him with soft eyes belying the sadism that lay beneath. "I won't have to deal with you again, will I?" Her grip tightened. Her strokes quickened.

Just like that, his pain was being replaced. As badly as his balls ached, he felt a great joy begin to glow in his shaft. "Hahhh! No ma'am! I-! Huhhhh..."

"You're gonna behave, right? You're not gonna tell anyone who owns those condos? I don't want people to think I'm a bad mayor."

"N-no! Uhhh... You're not." Looking down was a mistake. Her paw, so dainty and deft, glided up and down his imperious length with haste, drawing out more precum and rolling his foreskin like a sleeve. His veins throbbed in her grasp. Every bump and detail of his pillar was met by a delicate touch, igniting him like a pile of tinder. "Oh god!" His legs started to shiver. "Oh fuck!"

Diane tilted her head and pouted her lips. "Ohhhhh, are you about to cum?"

He made a cry like when she was pummeling his nuts. "Uhhhhhhh! Yes!"

"Mmmmm, do it then. Be a good boy and cum for me."

He obeyed immediately.

"Huhhhhhhhhhh~!" His pleasure peaked into something blinding, an eruption of bliss so manic that his entire husky frame went into a fit of blubbery shakes. The first spurt of cum spat out of him.

Then she kneed him in the balls.

Whatever joy he had felt was obliterated by a detonation of white-hot anguish. A scream ripped out of him as his body doubled over at the waist, then plummeted to the rug. His knees shoved into his gut, pinning his dick between them. His orgasm, now in tatters, did not spurt but bled out in one oozing flow that piled onto the rug as a puddle of molten splooge.

Diane's knee was still kicked into the air when she finally let the leash go. She smiled down at the hyena, now bundled into the fetal position, hands behind his back, mouth open in yet another voiceless scream. "Well, I hope you didn't take that too personally, Bruce. It's just business. Tell you what: you know how to eat ass. I'll throw you that bone." She stepped over his balled-up body and strutted to the staircase. "See you around, sweetheart."

He heard her footsteps climbing out of the basement. He stayed where he was, locked in a spotlight of absolute pain and absolute pleasure, both so intense he remained paralyzed. More footsteps came down, two pairs, much heavier than Diane's. He felt a burly hand hook the inside of his armpit and pull him to his feet. Zauie and Hannibal cradled him by his shoulders. He was dead weight between them, head slumped, feet dragging, dick limp, balls still tied together.

Zauie did him the mercy of unlocking the collar. A tight impression remained sunken into his scrotum like a corpse's neck out of a noose. His nuts did not immediately retreat into their natural place but rather made a very slow slide as if too afraid to make the wrong move and be punished again.

"Hey buddy," said Hannibal. "You alright?"

Bruce did not respond but with a meager "Unhhh..."

Zauie dangled the collar from his hoof. "After what this guy just went through?" He scoffed and shook his head. "He ain't gonna be alright for weeks."

THE END