FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sand poured in from cracks in the ceiling and covered the stone floor of the passageway. The place couldn't be very stable. The vixen raised her torch ahead of her, but it did little to push back the great yawning blackness that extended beyond. She had entered the strange ruins out of necessity, driven inside by a sudden sandstorm. Shielding her eyes and nose from the biting wind, the vixen had rushed inside what she had assumed was some sort of cave. As her torch sprung to life, it illuminated the strange murals covering the walls, and the vixen studied them with fascination. Strange creatures were depicted upon their fading surfaces, which stood among figures slightly more familiar; jackals, hawks, alligators. They were covered in strange dressings, depicted sitting in thrones or holding various instruments such as scales, while the orange creatures gathered at their feet in apparent worship. She followed the paintings, pausing at stone steps descending down to crane her neck back towards the entrance, where the storm still raged outside.

Last night she had slipped into Morningstar in disguise, and the vixen did what she could to get the word out. She hit all the underworld's employment boards, including the ones that had blacklisted her under the council's orders, and placed contracts out on two demons; one located within the wastes, and one tormenting Pauloa city. Exuberant rewards were offered for their heads. Of course, with no accompanying information on the demons themselves, their exact locations--information the vixen wasn't privy to, herself--and the fact she had used a fake name placing the contracts, it was all but assured no one would take them. The vixen didn't really expect anyone to, but it might, at least, get people talking. Maybe someone with nothing better to do would go looking for them. She had also slipped a letter detailing everything from the night in Tam to her encounter in the marshlands into Home's usual drop box, though she was unsure it would even be delivered; she was also unsure her old instructor would even bother reading it once she realized who it was from.

On her way out of the city and into the wastes, she debated hitting up the more--eccentric bars to spread the word of a very powerful demon in the king's palace, and let all the conspiracy nuts run with it. That, she eventually decided, would probably do more harm than good. This needed to be handled with subtlety. If she ran around telling every hunter and guild member who would listen, her story of imminent doom, dark creatures and lurking horrors, no one would listen; especially with her reputation being so widespread in the city. Until the threat was recognized, she would have to do as much as she could alone.

The subterranean floor of the ancient structure held a few scattered rooms. Most still contained their furniture; rotting chairs, toppled shelves, crumbling frames. The vixen picked through the remains with overwhelming curiosity, even going so far as to fold what decent silk she found upon the beds and place it inside her satchel.

"It might be good for a meal or two, at least," she thought.

As she shifted through the remains of shattered pottery and scattered belongings, the faint sound of claws skittering across stone caused her to shoot to her feet and draw the curved sword from the sheath about her waist. The vixen wrinkled her nose; she would probably never get the smell of the toad's leavings from the blade. She sat in perfect silence, waiting. Nothing came. Slowly she inched her way towards the room's entrance. She tumbled out, quickly settling to her feet in a crouch and pivoting on her heels, spinning to face the attacker she expected to be waiting either by the side of or above the frame. Nothing was there. Just as she was starting to suspect she had imaged it, the clacking echo found her ears again. It issued from far down the stone corridor in which she stood, rolling out of the solid wall of black. It was slower, more deliberate, than before. Raising her sword, the vixen slowly proceeded down the hallway. The clicking intensified. When the vixen stopped, it died down. Whatever it was, it was keeping its distance, trying to lead her.

The vixen had little doubt now; it was here. Somewhere within the ancient structure, one of the corpse God's fetid chattel lay in wait--and it was absolutely moronic if it thought she would go along with this; she had learned her lesson. The vixen swiftly backed down the corridor towards the stairs, falchion poised. She would just have to slip back in later when nothing was expecting. Loud clicks from the stairwell froze her in her tracks. The vixen spun, and the faint glow of her torch caught in a wall of shiny eyes. The first, all too familiar shriek caused her to instinctively flee. The vixen flew down the passageway, a roar of claws and sharp wails close behind. Her mind raced. What if the thing ahead of her sat waiting? What if the passageway was a dead end? She rounded the corner, and a sudden drop cut all her thoughts short. The vixen bounced off the walls of the pit with a shaky scream. The ground rushed up to meet her, and all was black.

[* * * * *]

When the vixen came to, she found herself nose-to-nose with a young stoat. The girl's eyes were rolled in the back of her head, and her muzzle hung open in a twisted grimace. The vixen was assaulted with the stench of decay. She felt dizzy. As she slowly took in her dim surroundings, she discovered why. She was hanging upside down. Completely nude. A rope wrapped itself around her ankles and ran through a stone loop in the ceiling. Torches hung about the walls, and their soft glow reflected off the shimmering floor. The chamber was filled with gold, like some king's treasure vault. Coins, goblets, precious jewels and small ornate chests absolutely carpeted the room. A multitude of corpses hung with her, some not so fresh as the girl in her face. Most, she noted, were female.

The vixen writhed in her bonds, bumping into the swaying bodies around her. They made her flesh crawl as they made contact with her naked fur. After a few tires, she finally caught hold of her ankles with her claws and set to loosening the knot holding her in the air. It gave, and she fell the handful of feet to the ground, scattering the coins beneath her with a loud jingle. Her aching head pivoted around the room, desperately searching for something--anything--that could be used to defend herself. As her vision slowly realigned, the vixen spotted dull gray piled in a far corner along with brilliant gold. Royal guard uniforms. She quickly dressed. A few scattered weapons lay underneath the pile of clothes, and the vixen tucked a couple of small flintlock pistols into her belt; her claws grasped the handle of a sturdy calvary sword. Now armed and clothed, the vixen's panic subsided enough for her mind to wander.

She shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "It couldn't hurt," she thought.

The uniform's spare pockets were speedily filled, and the vixen stepped beyond the stone archway of the room, into a small corridor covered with the same strange images and chiseled symbols as the ruin's entryway. Eyeless sockets watched her pass. Remains lined the chamber. Dry, leathery bodies stood propped up against the wall. Skeletons lay in little alcoves with odd trinkets and ivory jars. They were strange; blunt-faced and somewhat tiny. Her thoughts quickly returned to her current situation as she pressed herself against the archway of the other side and glanced around the corner. The corridor opened up into yet another torch-lined passageway. The vixen strained her ears. After she was convinced nothing moved along the stone floor, she slipped around the corner and padded off with soft jingles.

The vixen wandered in the consummate silence that blanketed the tomb. There was no way of knowing how deep they had taken her; there was no way of knowing if she was even still in the same structure she had first entered. The passageways seemed to stretch on and on--their monotony interrupted every few minutes with doors leading to rooms much like the ones she had found herself in upon waking; vast riches spruced with rotting corpses--and so when she suddenly found herself staring into scales the color of midnight, it took her brain a few moments to process something that wasn't dull stone.

She suppressed a yelp. Half its ropey body lay out of sight around the corner. What she could see was motionless; a thick tail, straight and stiff in the air, attached to a powerful frame, a curved and vicious claw resting upon the stone floor. There was nowhere to go, the thing was blocking the only way forward. Slowly she backed away, and the jingles from her bulging pockets finally drew its attention.

Its jaws opened wide as it lunged for her. Blood met the dusty walls as the vixen instinctively thrust her sword forward and rammed the blade down the thing's throat, where it stuck. The blade jutted out of its neck, and the vixen released her grip on its handle. Stone beneath the vixen's feet shook when the lizard fell, bringing its full weight down upon the floor. It screamed, and the vixen backed away from its wild thrashing. As its death throes slowed and the thing stilled, distant screaming answered back. She wasted no time trying to pry the blade from the thing's jaws, instead running as fast as her legs would carry her down the passage.

She soon found herself in a small room which sat at the center of a T intersection of corridors. The vixen noticed the stairs before she noticed the snapping swarms of lizards that flooded the other passageways. As she ascended, she drew one of the flintlocks at her belt and fired into the first lizard that made it to the steps. The round exploded through its eye, and the gathering mass behind pushed its limp body up the stairs as it raced after her. Another passageway. She turned and fired the second pistol as she ran, catching one in the leg and sending it crashing to the ground. The first few behind it tripped and followed, the rest clawed and leaped over the obstruction. The vixen threw the empty weapons at her pursuers.

Soon the passage opened up into a grand hall, and she found herself weaving in between its tall columns as she flew onward. She swung left and raced for the hall's other entrance moments before its great inpour of black, snarling lizards. The vixen skidded under her momentum, quickly finding traction and changing direction as the dark shapes rushed her. She ran in a blind panic. When her claws met the great hall's solid walls, she stood wide-eyed in disbelief. There were no other exits. She didn't even bother turning around as a tidal wave of roars and scraping descended upon her. Then, nothing. It was a few minutes, when the soft sounds of footpads reached her ears, that the vixen dared open her eyes. Slowly she turned. The lizards had encircled her. They did not move an inch, though the soft sounds drew nearer. When the circle parted, it was to allow a rather unamused-looking jackal entry. He was short. Young; seemingly not quite finished with his teen years. A thin, silk skirt clung to his trim waist, above which lay a toned but lithe body. His eyes made the air slowly empty from the vixen's lungs; solid black, as cold and hopeless as the grave, an unforgiving dark shared by the creatures gathered around her. The jackal seemed almost regal. He stood with an air of royalty as he brought the strange, curved blade in his paws closer to his face for inspection.

"I honestly don't know what he sees in you." He even sounded like a kid. "So easily caught, so easily cornered. Now I wish I had just killed you in the pit and saved myself the disappointment."

A jumble of thoughts wound themselves in the vixen's head. What was it the owl had said? Greed?

The jackal took his time closing the distance between them. "Oh, I'm sure he won't speak to me for a few centuries, but he'll get over it; he always does."

How in the fuck was that supposed to help? Maybe it could be bribed? With what? Oh, God, why hadn't she come out here with help, even if it meant selling herself for some inept mercenary? What had she been thinking? That was when her mind stumbled over the obvious.

She forced herself to speak. "How about a little wager?"

Something rippled underneath the surface of the bottomless pools on the thing's face. "What?" The chuckle that escaped with his inquiry almost turned it into a statement.

"A wager. A bet. If I win, you have to--"

The jackal rushed her, slamming his claws into the stone beside her shoulders and pressing her into the wall with his smaller frame. He had to crane his head upwards to stare into her. It might have been funny under different circumstances, this kid trying to intimidate her--but his eyes were most certainly not the eyes of anything mortal. They sucked all the humor right out of her.

Suddenly, his voice didn't seem so young. "What could you possibly have that I couldn't just take from you right now?"

"My cooperation."

The thing was silent.

"If you win, I promise to serve you in all things. I have connections. Powerful connections." The vixen tried to keep the shakes in her voice to a minimum.

"Yes," he interrupted, "I recognize the brand on your little rump."

"Then, you know what I could do for you. I'm important to the guild. The council places my advice and requests above all others."

"You would serve me in all things?"

"Yes." She trembled.

Memphis slowly eased himself off the fox. She stared blankly at him until he finally broke the silence. "Well? Did you have something specific in mind for our contest?"

The vixen's mouth worked, but nothing came out. She hadn't thought this far ahead.

He grinned. "That's all right. I do."

The lizards turned and disappeared into the shadows of the hall. They were alone. The vixen almost considered making a break for it when the sound of wood scraping stone issued from the dark. Two lizards approached them, each with a side of a small table grasped in their jaws. Two more came with chairs. The lizards placed the table in between them, and the jackal took his seat at one end. One of the lizards sat its chair down behind the vixen and stood staring at her. She slowly eased herself down into it, feeling very uncomfortable the closer to eye-level she came with the thing; if it wanted to, she thought, it could easy close its jaws around her head. Instead, it moved behind her and pushed the chair closer to the table with its snout. The two were suddenly alone again.

"Are you familiar with senet?" The jackal popped open a small ornate box that rested on the center of the table.

The vixen shook her head.

"Very simple game," the thing said as it laid out ten pieces upon the table in one line. It was narrow. Wood adorned its sides and comprised its legs, but its center was smooth ivory sectioned off into 30 squares; 10 rows of 3. The pieces were black stone. Five were short and flat, almost like tiny spools, while the other five raised into little domed towers. The same strange symbols that permeated the ruins had been painstakingly carved into them. "The pieces move in a serpentine motion." The jackal's claw ran to the square beside the piece nearest him, then down the board to her end, then over one square, and finally back down to his end of the board.

He tapped the final square. "When a piece reaches the end, it is removed from the board. First to remove all their pieces from the board wins. If one piece ever lands on a square already occupied by an opponent's piece, the opponent's piece is bumped back to the moving piece's original location." His claw ran to a square near the end. Upon its surface was carved what appeared to be an eye, a line curving over it and two others curling from underneath. "This is the square of the shawabti. It is a dead square. No piece may rest on it." The jackal taped the square directly behind it. Upon its surface was carved a cross with an oval loop for its head. "This is the square of nefer. It is a lucky square. While it is occupied, none of your opponent's pieces may claim it."

Another lizard strutted up and sat a smaller table against the playing table.

"These determine movement." The jackal brought five flattened sticks from the box and allowed them to slip from his claws and bounce upon the smaller table. One side of each stick was marked at its center with a black triangle; the other side was barren. "One square for every triangle thrown." He sat back with a sigh. "Now, then. Rules. For every piece you manage to remove from the board, I will give you three minutes of head start."

"Head start?"

"For when I chase you, of course."

Panic snaked its way back into the vixen's mind. "How exactly are you planning to make use of my connections if I am dead?"

The vixen did not like the grin that spread across his muzzle at all; it gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The jackal looked like he thought he knew something she didn't.

"Honestly, I have no interest in your little guild. Willingly giving yourself to me, however--that, I am most interested in." The young jackal did not speak for a few moments. He sat in silence, seemingly appraising the vixen with those horrifying eyes. "Males are so much easier, you know, but so much less--nutritious. Now that I look at you, yes, I suppose you do have some promise; nothing near as astounding as how you were described, though. He was always so prone to hyperbole." One of the jackal's claws traced the round top of a shorter piece. "The strongest of spirit are always the most succulent, you see. This was no accident, you coming to me, was it? Someone has informed you of us, yes?"

The vixen did not speak. Her gaze strayed from the thing's face.

Memphis leaned into his chair, idly raising a paw to scratch underneath his chin. "Some of the youngest of us still grasp so frantically to their former roles. I find that extraordinarily depressing, myself." The jackal stared off into the darkness for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought, before suddenly addressing her again. "For each of my pieces that leave the board, you will be required to service me, in any way I instruct, for a period of time."

No sooner had he finished his sentence, than another black lizard came trotting out of the shadows with an hourglass between his teeth. Memphis took it from his jaws and placed it upon the smaller table.

"I do believe one cumulative minute for every piece of mine that is removed sounds fair? I suppose if these terms are not acceptable, we could just stop here and pick up where we left off." A sea of lizard heads poked from the shadows of the hall and stared at her.

"Fine," came her reply, strained through grit teeth.

"Which pieces to you want?"

The vixen looked at the alternating row. The piece closest to moving around the corner, she noted, was one of the little towers. That could give her a slight advantage. "The towers."

"Very well. Guests always throw first."

The game was on. They threw the sticks in silence, each inching their pieces down the board, sometimes displacing and forcing one another back. Minutes flew.

"I have always loved games. You?"

The vixen made no attempts to participate in its small talk. It was her turn, and she gave the sticks a throw, moving as it prattled on. One of her pieces was safe on the square of nefer, but one of his was directly behind.

"Chance and stakes just make them that much more enjoyable." He gave the sticks a throw. Five; all showed their triangles. The jackal lifted his piece over hers and the square of the shawabti, counting aloud as he moved. "--three, four five." His piece rested upon the final square.

The vixen's gut tightened. If she could manage a four, it would at least bump him back and delay--whatever it was he was going to request of her. She didn't want to think about that. The sticks were thrown. Only one showed a triangle. The square of the shawabti halted her progression. She drooped, moving one of her other pieces down the board.

Memphis didn't even bother throwing. He picked his piece from the table and let it drop back into its box.

"Lose the shirt." His attentions were elsewhere. The jackal had bent over and was clutching at something along the floor. When he noticed she had not moved, he turned his head and rested his windows to oblivion upon her.

The vixen lowered her head in disgust. She worked the buttons on the uniform, and was soon free of it. It fell to the floor. She didn't bother trying to cover herself.

"Now, then. I bet you feel so much cooler out of those heavy rags." The jackal seemed almost uninterested. Sand poured from his rising paw. His grip on it loosened, letting small amounts tumble back to the floor. When he was satisfied at the amount he still grasped, his free paw slid the top of the hourglass aside and the sand was deposited in it. "Your turn."

She stared at him with contempt. Fucker is toying with me, she thought.

Five. The vixen removed her first piece off the board. After a few more throws, another followed.

The young jackal clapped his paws together with a soft pat. "Wonderful. Nicely done. That's six minutes you've earned yourself so far."

The vixen's smirk faded as she realized he would remove another of his pieces before she could catch up to him.

"Pants," he stated plainly.

She disrobed while he placed another clawful of sand into the hourglass. The chill of the hall had already caused her dark nipples to stiffen, and now the warm lips between her thighs rested upon the cool wood of her chair. Memphis continuously chatted with her as the game rolled on, though the vixen blocked him out. It wasn't long before another of his pieces was off the board, and a knot formed in her stomach.

After adding more sand to the hourglass, he addressed her. "Well, now you look a little too cool. Come over here. I'll warm you up."

She hesitantly rose from her seat, and took her time walking the few feet spanning their chairs.

"Turn around."

She obeyed. The soft sounds of the jackal patting his lap found her ears. The vixen sat, bringing all her weight down on the jackal's crotch. A stiff poke underneath her tail informed her that her actions had not produced quite the desired result.

"That eager already?" He flipped the hourglass.

The vixen tensed at his caresses. The jackal took his time, running his paws through the fur of her stomach, tracing the risings of muscle underneath her skin, letting his paws slide down her flanks and trace their way back up her inner thighs. His nose buried itself in her back, and the vixen heard him inhale deeply. She jumped in his lap when a claw ever so lightly ran itself along her lips and continued up to her chest, where it traced the outline of areola. The three minutes seemed to drag on forever. Two paws cupped and massaged her breasts, rolling and lifting them gently. She was kneaded like dough. Mellowly, they applied pressure, squeezing her tits together.

The vixen did her best to hide her approval; she was glad the thing couldn't see her face. When her nipples were captured and delicately tortured, she hoped she wouldn't involuntarily grind herself into his leg. The jackal's two deft paws slowly wandered down her body, tracing the bumps of her ribs, massaging her taut abdominals, gently rubbing back and forth along her inner thigh. The vixen spread for him.

His paws kept their distance from her center, straying unbearably close to her mound as they helped widen her legs. Soon the larger fox straddled him completely. That was when he finally let himself make contact. She gasped. Two fingers lay alongside her slit and rubbed, spicing every few seconds with pressure enough to open her flower. He let himself inside. A pleasant, warm tingle spread through her loins while three of his digits worked in and out of her with gentle saws. Gentle nips peppered her shoulders--which was about as high as the jackal's muzzle could reach. His thumb pressed down upon the covering of her button, leaving it in needful agony. Then it all stopped. The vixen's mind slowly lifted itself from the shimmering pink fog of her lust, and her eyes shot open. The sands had run out.

"Your turn." His chest rumbled against her back.

The vixen didn't quite know what to do with herself.

"Go on." He gently pushed her off of his lap and gave her a smack across the rear.

"Eep!" She quickly found her seat. Her knees met underneath the table as she reached for the sticks, the small trickle from between her thighs pooling on the wood of her chair.

The game moved on. After a few throws, another of the vixen's pieces left the board.

"Nine," the jackal stated.

Again, one of his pieces came to rest upon the last square, but what the vixen found herself feeling was far from despair. Her dying embers reignited as his still-slick digits picked it from the board and added more sand to the hourglass. Memphis wordlessly waved her over. There was decidedly less hesitation in her steps. The jackal's claws dug into the silk at his waist. It bunched in his palms as he pulled, and the slow rising of his hem unveiled his ready member.

"I need to be cleaned."

The vixen turned the hourglass for him.

It was cute, she thought. Just barely large enough to be a pawful. She slinked to her knees in front of him and playfully stroked his length. The jackal's elbow stood upon his chair's armrest, and his closed fist rested aside his muzzle, supporting the weight of his head. He stared down at her with eyes the color of infinity. The vixen's muzzle closed around one of his testicles and she gently suckled. She let her tongue drench the soft velvet of his sac while her paw continued churning the maleness extending over her nose. His scent was intoxicating. Flesh hot against her tongue, she slowly worked her way from his balls to his tip with broad, slow licks, her paw keeping steady rhythm along his shaft.

More than anything, she wanted him to enjoy it. The fear and disdain she felt for the thing she now more than willingly took into her muzzle was more than just a distant memory--it was completely forgotten. The vixen sucked hungrily upon his head, her maw quickly filling with the jackal's sweet pre-cum. She buried herself on him. The fox took him completely, his very tip coming to rest against the back of her throat while she contracted around his engorged cock. She moaned around him, clenching a tight vacuum on his member, and slowly raised while her soft, wet lash struck and danced along his length.

Her mouth was a slimy mess. Thick strands of pre-cum and saliva bridged the gap between his member and her muzzle, fangs, and tongue. Loud slurps pulled what she could back inside her maw, and she lowered herself down for more. Rapid laps covered his glands before his stiff cock was encased in warmth and eagerly sucked. All the while, the jackal sat in silence and watched, his claws digging themselves into his armrest whenever the vixen happened upon a particularly sensitive spot with her diligent tongue. Soon his throbbing and twitching told her it was time to pick things up a little, and she attacked him with quick bobs and rapid strokes.

Memphis couldn't take anymore. His paw uncurled and left his face. It quickly found the back of the vixen's head and forced her down upon his shaft. She grunted at the force, but quickly submitted, and was rewarded with a hot, salty torrent that brought warmth to her cheeks and a pleasant tingle to her gut. The vixen didn't waste a drop. She was happy she could please him; though, somewhere deep inside--so far down it was all but a fragile whisper that shattered when it collided with her lust--she had the strangest feeling that she was forgetting something. The ache between her legs pushed such thoughts far, far away. Her ministrations had affected her as well, and a small pool sat upon the dusty floor beneath her.

"Well, all right, you do have some skill. Still, I see--oh, my." The jackal had finally turned his attentions towards the hourglass, the sands of which had long since run out. "I wonder how long it's been like that. Hm. In any case, I do think we should finish our game." He waved her away, and she obediently slid from him and took her seat across the table.

The vixen didn't take her eyes from Memphis afterwards. She idly reached for the sticks and let them roll from her claws. When it became apparent to him that she would not look at her results, he moved for her. On it went, and soon Memphis' final piece left the board.

"I win." The jackal added one final claw full of sand to the hourglass.

The vixen never dropped her pensive stare.

"That was fun. Didn't you have fun?"

She slowly nodded.

"And as soon as you pay up, we can have a little more. Get over here, bitch. You're going to ride me."

It was something in his eyes that slowly brought her mind back. Something rose from those depths as he spoke his command to her, something wild with hunger and dripping with malevolence. It grinned at her from beyond the eternal sleep with a face of antediluvian construct, and she was instantly terrified. Fear quickly swept away lust, and suddenly she was remembering all the important things she had forgotten. Every muscle in her body froze after the first step towards him. She couldn't go on; she knew what would happen if she gave herself to it. The jackal saw the fear in her eyes. When she backed up, a cold snout pressed itself to her neck. She spun. They were everywhere.

Memphis spoke softly to her. "If you will not abide by the rules of the game, I see no reason why I should."

Nine minutes, she thought. I couldn't get anywhere with nine minutes, and he knows it. He's going to try and end this here.

The jackal looked as if he was growing impatient.

She thought back to the marshlands, and realized there was really only one thing she could do. So she climbed up onto his lap and poised her entrance over his tip. He flipped the hourglass.

The vixen was hesitant in lowering herself down on his softly pulsing rod, and the jackal was more than happy to help her along. Strong claws gripped at her and slammed her hips down upon him. She sat impaled, her paws digging into his shoulders while the clawed toes at the end of her dangling legs curled. He didn't seem to mind doing all the work. The sharp bucks he pounded into her with contained enough force to lift her from his shaft with muted slurps, and she fell back down with a gentle bounce. It was more than enough to make her drench their meeting waists. The vixen's breathing quickened. Each time she fell upon him the pressure was brought upon her most sensitive of nubs, and she could not cage the grunt that sprang from her throat at its pressing. She clenched tight at his bucks, gripping and stroking him with her steaming velvet as he slid out, and relaxed herself for the solid plunge of his reentry. She was still determined to make him enjoy it, though now for different reasons altogether.

Memphis eyes were shut when the last few grains circled the drain at the hourglass' center. "I take it all back," he hissed. "Your taste--it's--ungh--exquisite. I-almost hate to--mmm--hand you over, but I supp--ose master must come first." A grin split his muzzle. "Abdurahman will be so jealous when he finds you in my garden."

Gentle quakes rippled through her tunnel; her breathing was becoming erratic. Oh, God, please give out soon, she thought.

It wasn't a long wait, though she had come much closer to the edge that she would have liked. The bucking stopped and the vixen was held in place. She could feel creeping warmth paint her center, the gentle pulses of the jackal's cock washing over her being, but the vixen held fast. Now was the time to act. Her digits snaked their way around his head and gently scratched his fur lovingly. Ageless horrors masquerading as youths were probably stronger than they looked, and the vixen wanted to do this quick enough so she wouldn't find out by just how much. When his head was yanked sharply back, his eyes finally opened. Her jaws clamped down on his neck.

Immediately she felt claws tear into her back and an ear-splitting roar right beside her ears, but she did not stop. One single strong tug was all it took to rip the jackal's slender throat out. She was absolutely bathed in blood. Just like that the pain in her back was gone, the desperate shrieks rendered fading echos, and the solid tower buried in her loins softened. They were alone again.

A vice crushed her throat before she could spit the flesh from her maw. The jackal was not finished. Memphis tried to speak, and the rumbling of what was left of his larynx gushed bright red down his chest. Had she been too late? Even though she felt like her head would pop off her shoulders, it didn't matter. She was resigned; better this way than what lay waiting to rip her soul apart on the other side of the jackal's livid eyes. The pressure gradually subsided until the thing's arms lung limp from her shoulders and its body fell slack in the chair.

The vixen dressed, enjoying the silence and solitude. She was fairly certain there would be no scaley surprises waiting for her as she left, and that would make carrying what she could back so much easier.