One Year (M/M)
#1 of Zale Sterling, fetish zebra!
One Year
by H. A. Kirsch
Copyright 2008
Warning: gay smut. Also, some heavy gear fetish and I won't spoil the rest.
I've always been afraid of wolves. I don't really know why; mum told me it was because I was a
horse, but I'm a zebra and there aren't wolves in Africa. Then again, I'm Australian and there
aren't zebras in Australia. I'm not even a whole zebra; mum's a pony. Anyway, wolves, they freak me
out. Always. Even a nice wolf gives me the willies. You can totally tell where this is going, huh?
Yeah, I spent a year living with one.
I was sitting on a low wall at the edge of this elevated park courtyard thing, waiting for someone
to come by. There were a lot of people coming by, but they all continued going. Not enough coming,
you know? And that's what I was there for. It didn't really happen fast; I was out of my parents'
house when I turned eighteen, into an apartment with the guys in my band. We were getting locally
big, and then it just... went all Behind The Music, and it wasn't my band any more, and I wasn't
even in it. I was living with a friend of mine, but the rent was too high and he was a dope fiend
who didn't tell anyone. When he got put in jail and then rehab, no one was there to pay the rest of
the rent. I got set out on the sidewalk along with a come-and-barf-stained futon and a pile of milk
crates. I went through my other friends until I was out of places to crash.
I went into a bar that I found, kind of seedy and smelly... smelly like a jockstrap that'd been
hanging in a gym locker for a year, not like it was full of bums. I ended up with a potbellied black
bear named Bill putting come trails on my taint, then leaving lying in a motel bed with a hundred
and fifty dollars tucked into my fucking ear. Really, he rolled it up and stuck it in there. One
hundred and fifty dollars was enough to stay in that motel room for two weeks, and Indian lunch
buffets are like the vegetarian version of Old Country Buffet.
So I was sitting on the wall, waiting for someone to come by and notice me. I quickly learned that
hanging your tits into someone's car at a stop light only works if you have tits, and that you
generally want someone to pick you up because they think you're hot. Plus, I always kind of got this
gross dick tingle when someone stopped and asked me if I had anywhere I wanted to go. I was sitting,
sitting, sitting, and then I look down to see who's coming down the walk and it was a wolf. Every
time there's a wolf, I watch them the whole way. They probably think I'm a freak, some weird
splotchy half-gray zebra thing in a torn-sleeve shirt, tight-ass jeans and hair-metal cowboy boots.
They being wolves.
This wolf was all black. His clothes were all black. Nothing on him wasn't black save for his eyes
and teeth, and he had sunglasses on so maybe his fucking eyes were black pools of crazy-shit black
wolf. When he opened his mouth and licked his lips, his tongue was black. He got closer, and I
realized he didn't see me. He looked anywhere but at me. He was wearing all leather; leather blazer
with some fancy-shit crocodile parts on the collar, leather jeans, leather gloves even though it
was warm out, leather belt, leather cowboy boots. Black sunglasses, and no shirt. I couldn't decide
if he was a fag or the mafia. I wasn't sure if a mafia fag would be better than just a fag, or worse
than just mafia.
A little relief sweated out on my snout when this tall black thing just clopped on by, and then
oozed back inside when he stopped less than twenty feet away. That wolf's head turned, muzzle over
his shoulder, black lip curled a little, and he even tilted his sunglasses down to give me a
straight yellow-eyed look. It was right out of a fucking movie, some pulp shit, but crap did it make
me feel like jelly in my nuts. The rest of the wolf turned and he stepped right up to me.
"Why're you sitting there like that?" I started to answer, but he cut me off. "Are you a whore?" He
had this clipped mix of Bronx thug and backwoods drawl. I stared at his gloves. I mean if I stared
at his face I would probably faint, fucking wolves, but his gloves.. they were strangling gloves,
they were the things you always see on some bad guy who's breaking into something or killing someone
or making that little hand triangle while plotting at his desk of evil. Glossy, black leather,
tight-fitted.
"Well," I said, and palmed my mohawk. He downed his glasses again, watched me put a hand through the
blue ruff. Maybe he was watching my glove. I always wore open-knuckle driving gloves. They were
trashy. They fit. "That depends."
The wolf took out his wallet. Right there, in front of everyone else walking by. Not that they gave
a shit, but still. Someone could, I dunno, steal it from him. "How much to just walk around the
block with you?"
Hand on mohawk again. "Are you kidding me? This sounds familiar. I think I saw this in a movie. That
one with the guy who put gerbils up his ass. You want to walk around the block? Okay, five bucks." I
learned another trick; if you act like an asshole, then tough guys fork out more money because they
love to pork a punk-ass and pussy guys just get off on assholes. I put my hand out, and he smacked
the money down into it, then grabbed. Holy shit, I got stiff, and I mean everywhere, I didn't want
to stand up but he pulled me up.
He wasn't kidding. Around the block, a total of maybe five sentences, and we were back right where
I'd been sitting. "Look, I don't need anything, it's not a sob story. You asked, that's what it is.
Everyone's got a thing. You got a thing. You're some big scary black wolf who pays..." and he walked
off. "Hey, hey! What the hell, you're nuts mister, you don't want to, I mean you just wanted to
spend five bucks to ask me why I'm a hustler?" I followed after him, heart pounding. There was no
way he could be good. He moved with the absolute purpose of an animal that smelled meat. Being an
animal that naturally would *be* meat for someone else, that kind of sense thing just runs in my
blood.
The wolf turned and stopped right next to an expensive black Mustang GT. I knew it was a GT
because... because, I mean, come on. "Get in."
I got in his car, and the city barreled by, turning into highway for a few miles. He drove fast, but
not like an idiot. "What's your name?" he asked, not even bothering to look at me in the mirror. I
sat in the back so he couldn't touch me while driving.
"Zale."
"Zale?" He looked in the mirror.. just to pass someone.
"Yeah, Zale Sterling. You know, like silver. And I'm gray. Nah, it's really my name, look." I fished
out my license. "It's kind of a limey name I guess, I'm from down under. Came here as a kid."
"Name's Hawk," the wolf said, pulling off onto a side road. I knew where we were... south of town,
there was some big walk park with some nice houses around it. Some school friend had lived out there
until his dad married someone else out of state and dumped the kid's mom. He stopped the car. "Okay,
so there's a bus stop about fifty feet around that corner. If you want, just get out. If you want to
come with me, you can. Here's the thing. You're a homeless little pony who fucks for cash. I have a
house and no one but me to fill it up. You come with me, you live with me for a year."
"What happens after a year, you turn into a pumpkin? I get to make a wish?"
"I tell you to get lost."
I almost shit myself, sitting on that leather back bench in his rumbling car, looking between the
side of Mr. Hawk's black head and the corner where _supposedly_ there was a ticket back to my little
hovel of a bed and night after night of anonymous fluids. The city was safe, compared to some WOLF
and his house WITH NO ONE ELSE for A WHOLE YEAR. I went to grab the door handle, but my finger
slipped and pushed the lock lever instead. The wolf didn't say anything and kept driving.
He lived on the edge of that park, at the far side. Literally on the edge; you could go out his
basement patio door and walk down a path and you were in a Nature Area where kids from the nearby
college would walk around and pretend like they were in a real wildnerness while making out and
talking about Ayn Rand. Hawk pulled into his garage, then got out. I followed, and boy was his house
nice. Creepy, but nice. Expensive minimalist everything, a lot of black wood and nothing was curved.
Even the flower planters had angles. All the furniture was leather, all the floors hard, all the TVs
flat.
Hawk didn't seem to talk much. He just led me around, boot heels snapping on the hard wood. He
didn't walk fast - he sounded like he had the measured gait of someone trying to, you know, be
measured - but he had to be six and a half feet tall and he just moved fast. He stopped at a room.
"You can sleep in here." He kept going. "This is the basement, you can work out but wipe up your
sweat and spit and whatever." Back upstairs: "If you eat something, write it down so I can go
shopping and get another." All the way to one end of the long house: "This is the master bedroom. If
the door's locked, you stay outside. If you make a mess in there..." he didn't finish. All the way
to the other end: "If I find that you've gotten in here somehow, you will regret it."
"Uh, yeah," I finally said. "So, you want to-"
He pushed right past me. "I have something to do. I'll be back. I might be late, so don't wait up.
By the way, don't let any cops in. I have inside locks and they're a fire hazard. Had a firefighter
friend get all pissy about it once." The wolf stalked off into the garage, and shut the door behind
him.
When the lock snapped, three others popped around the house. I went around to each door in the
silent house, and tried it. Locked. I tried the deadbolt knob. There wasn't one.
When I got to the toilet, I was so scared that I pissed harder than I'd ever pissed in my life.
The wolf wasn't kidding. It grew dark, and there was no sign of him. I rummaged in the refrigerator
and found what looked like chinese take-out from a few nights earlier. No one would miss that, and
it was just noodles, so I slurped it all down. I kept the reality of my situation at bay by
wandering around the house. It was like looking at the New York Times Magazine on Sunday and leafing
through all the advertisements for furniture you can only afford when living in Manhattan. It was
just like that, except instead of looking at it on your parents' folding table while eating Kraft
Dinner with ketchup and carrots, you're inside it and some wolf had just picked you up off the
street to keep you as a house boy.
The house had at least three bedrooms. Master, the one marked as 'mine', one that was totally empty,
and I guessed that the door across the hall was a twin to the empty - I opened the door and slammed
it shut. I breathed hard. I opened it again. It was a dungeon. We're talking one of those standing
whipping crosses, all kinds of other black stuff with shackles attached, strange things hanging from
the walls that I couldn't identify fast, and a smell that made me see spots. Leather, rubber, sweat,
sex, and WOLF.
No more stalking around the house for me. I tried all the doors again. I tried to find a phone...
the wolf didn't have any PHONES. He probably had a cell, or was some super creep who didn't use
phones... I had a prepaid, but it was out of minutes. Fuck that. I went into the bedroom for me,
and closed the door. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe he was just playing. He'd come home and I'd
suck his cock down to the balls, and he'd say something about how horses have nice lips, and I'd get
fifty bucks and a ride back to the bus stop.
It was a nice bedroom. A little sterile, like it would look nice in that "you'll never afford this"
advertisement, but not like it would be comfortable. The bed had satin sheets, though. I was a
sucker for that kind of thing, and soon I was naked and sliding in between black satin and black
satin. All those little animal bits came out, and I just squirmed in there, like a whole team of
kids were petting me at a petting zoo, and they were made of satin. I don't care if that sounds
weird. It was about that moment that I fell asleep. It didn't matter if I was terrified; if I got
horizontal and wasn't being fucked, lights out. That was fine with me, I thought, in the couple of
seconds I had before I was gone. Sleep meant I didn't have to think about where I was.
I woke up sweating in a huff. I mean really sweating, it was disgusting, and the satin didn't help.
Horses sweat, dontchaknow. It was pitch black outside, must've been a new moon or cloudy or
something. Someone was walking around outside the room, and for a second I didn't know where I was.
Then I realized it had to be the wolf. Hawk. Boot heels clomped down the hall one way, then the
other. This wasn't the swagger-stalk from before; this was rough and hurried. I crept out of bed and
over to the door, trying to hear if he was talking or doing anything else.
The boots stopped outside the door, and I shrank back. Nothing happened for a long few seconds, and
I leaned back to the crack of the frame. The floorboards creaked outside, or maybe that was leather?
And breathing. He was standing there, outside the door, breathing. It sounded like a big dog
panting, except much slower. Sometimes it was the sniff of a nostril, sometimes an open-mouthed
huff.
I panicked and lept up, then rushed to the bed, seized with the idea that if I could lunge in under
the sheets, I would be just a harmless and uninteresting black lump. You know, kind of like hiding
in a pack with all those stripes, except there weren't any stripes on the bed and mine were all
splotchy and I could have sworn I was going to have a heart attack. I faced the wall, and stilled
myself as much as I could. The door opened with a click of the latch, and I heard boots move from
the hallway into the room. Clunk, clunk, clunk. The house was silent, I was silent, the room was
silent, only the wolf made noise. Leather creaked, boot heel clopped the floor, sole laid down with
a slap. He was trying to do it, I knew it. No normal person walks that way. It's the way you walk in
a movie.
He touched me. I didn't have to worry about jerking; I couldn't move if I tried. Hand slid over my
body, down the curve from shoulder to side to hip to thigh. Oh god, I didn't look harmless and
innocent, I looked like a slut, like some inviting whore just waiting. And I _was_ an inviting
whore, I was a whore and I'd said I wanted to stay, to stay...
The wolf slowly peeled the sheets off, and that was almost a relief; in the short time I'd been
hunkering at the door, all my sweat had turned into a disgusting clammy mess that was making me
shiver. No, it was that big hand touching me that made me shiver. The hand slid along horsehair, and
I knew he was wearing gloves, I knew because I cold smell the leather and because it was so slick
and easy-going. I was so terrified, I could only think of how I could get out of the situation, and
the only way I could get out would be to play along, and give him what he wanted, make sure the wolf
was happy so he would go away and turn around three times and fall asleep on the sofa.
I stirred, like he was waking me up. He didn't stop touching, he didn't even pause. I rolled over
onto my back, that hand on my shoulder. Now I could see him, a towering black thing with tall ears,
yellow eyes looking down at me from an otherwise inky face. Oh god, he was, he was evil, out of that
suit jacket he was lean and wide-shouldered and carved thick and hard under that ebony fur. He still
had on leather jeans, still had those gloves on. He only touched my chest for a moment, big hand
sliding across my pecs; I sucked my abs in, made my chest stick out a little, then sniffed.
The wolf stood back and started opening his fly, body slowly shifting around as leather met leather
and slowly exposed himself. Just more black, the whole god-damn thing was black. Black skin, black
foreskin, black dickhead, black nuts. I started to twist over that way, to put it in my mouth, and
he just slapped me. Hard. "What?"
"Don't fucking suck me," he said, and started climbing into bed. "I don't need another blowjob."
Suddenly he was all over me, body against mine, boots scraping down my shins and forcing my legs
apart. He was drunk, or half drunk, or coming off being drunk; it just radiated out of his mouth, I
could see the smell rays like a fucking cartoon. My face hurt from the slap, a sting, an _ache_
because his hand had followed through. My ears burned hot, and I knew my lips were curled back, big
square teeth showing. The wolf leaned up and snarled a few times, coughed and snorted, then hocked
up a big wad of spit into a gloved hand and started milking it around his dickhead. "I'm going to
fuck you like the little fucking whore pony you are, on your back, looking right in your pretty
striped face."
This was not what I wanted. I shoved at his chest when he tried to lean down and start pushing it
in. I shoved, he punched me in the shoulder. I started to buck and thrash, but his gloved hands
seized my biceps and flattened me. You don't mess with a horse, we can buck, even zebra pony mutts.
The more I bucked, the more he snarled, until his teeth were bared, nose pointed, ears back, drool
hanging off his teeth. His solution to my bucking was to flip me over; god was he strong! I clawed
at the sheets, at the pillows, but he just crushed down against me, wet cock squirming inbetween my
asscheeks.
"No, no, no! Get off me! I changed my mind, okay? I changed my mind!" I huffed, hips crushing
against the bed, trying to block off my asshole from him. He forced in at it anyway, chest rattling
as he snarled, and the head started to mash inside. It hurt and hurt and then... unnnh, it didn't
hurt so much. He let out a gurgling sort of moan and sunk in.
"Fucking horses have the best assholes," he slurred, just grinding against me, gloved hands wrapped
around my forearms. The fight was over, and I couldn't move again, just lie there and stare at that
gloved hand holding my arm, black leather shining, so strong. He grunted and pushed, leather pants
squeaking and grinding along the backs of my legs, edge of his boot sole sometimes scraping along my
calf. The rocking turned into thrusting, faster and harder, then deeper and violent, hands gripping
my shoulders instead of wrists, holding me down so firm that it was hard to breathe. All of a
sudden, that fat dickhead popped out and I realized just how big it was, asshole gaping, a fucking
cavern inside.
"Son of a bitch, I can't come in your ass, I can't come in your ass right now," he snarled, then
flipped me over again. He sat on my thighs and beat at his cock, fisting over it, foreskin slapping
flesh slapping leather, precum bubbling out of the head and running down his knuckles. I stared at
it, at the way his balls smacked that leather-wrapped fist. He reached out and grabbed my face and
turned it up; I tried to wrench away, but he just hit me again, the slap hard enough to make me
thrash under him. He was just staring at me in my face, then his yellow eyes dropped down. His chest
inflated and strained tight, a deep hnnnrrrhhh coming out through his teeth, drool pushed out and
running down his black lips to collect under his front teeth and spill over onto his chin. His cock
fired off, spraying my chest right up to my neck, spurts so wet and messy that they splattered
against themselves, wet mess puddling up between my pecs, then running down the side of my neck.
Then he climbed off me and grunted, milked his cock off and shook the drops at me. He smirked and
rubbed his face, messing up his fur, and chuckled. The sound turned into a dark laugh as he turned
on heel and stalked for the door, swinging it open and slamming it behind him. I stared at that mess
on my chest, and something snapped inside. Control just disappeared, and I was so hard, so hard just
looking at it, gleaming white spunk all over my splotchy fur. I touched it, smeared it around, and
touched my cock, and came hard. It hit the wall and splattered. The next morning, it had turned into
a gross, rancid mustard stain that I buffed out with a pillowcase.
I didn't want to leave the room that next morning, but I was so hungry I wanted to chew through the
desk. I pulled on my pants and snuck out. Halfway to the kitchen, I heard him and stopped.
"Get in here," Hawk said, chewing on something. I crept in. "Jesus, you're a mess. Take a fucking
shower."
My face burned and I shrank back. "Uhhh, ohhh-"
He grunted and set down the bacon he was eating. He was wearing black silk boxers and nothing else,
and his face looked a little haggard. "Look, tell me what you eat. I'll make something."
The kitchen had a big island in the middle, with stools at one side. I sat. Everything was stainless
steel and marble. The table was cold and unforgiving, and the stool wasn't padded. "Uh, uh, veggies
and bread and stuff."
"Any dairy?"
"Yeah, I can eat that stuff sometimes if there's, I dunno, potatoes or something." My voice was so
small. I felt like a tiny little toy pony. I wasn't really small or big, maybe five ten. My dad was
huge though, full-blooded zebra, and my mom was kind of fat even though she was a pony. I always
felt like a little kid at home.
"It'll be done in a bit. Clean that come off. It looks like someone spilled milk on your neck."
I got up and slinked out, then found the bathroom. It was _black_ inside. Black jacuzzi tub, black
shower, black toilet, black sink, slate gray tiles. This wolf had a one-track mind. He was like a
walking black and white photo. I showered off, and when I got out, he was standing outside the door
holding a bathrobe. It was... black. I put it on while he walked back to the kitchen.
When I came up, he just set a plate of something down. "Eat. I'll get some more food today. All I
have is meat stuff." It looked a lot like chopped potatoes and some peppers. It was a little
garlicky. I picked at it, and felt like an idiot until it was gone. Hawk didn't seem to pay
attention to me, milling around the kitchen. I'd barely put the fork down before he yanked the plate
away and stuck it into the dishwasher. "I have to go to work. Don't break anything. You can do
whatever you want, as long as you don't go in my bedroom or the one at the end of the hall, and
don't waste yourself. You're not here to get a free ride."
He disappeared into the master bedroom, and reappeared wearing that leather suit, then ducked out
into the garage. His car roared off, and I was alone in the creepy angular black house. I convinced
myself that it was a challenge. That this was a weird-ass situation and I was going to see it
through because people should do interesting things in their life. Interesting things like stay at a
wolf's house where the doors are all locked from the inside when the wolf's at work, and where the
internet connection is firewalled so you can only read the news, and where everything smells like
either leather or smoke or wolf-come, and where you go to sleep and...
I wasn't really sore back there, but it.. I knew he'd been in me. Just thinking about thinking about
it made me feel scared again, tense, immobile. And hard. Very hard.
That night, nothing. Hawk came home, watched TV and let me sit on the couch with him, made dinner (I
got some dal and curried carrots), then went to sleep. The next night, nothing. I was starting to
wonder if he was just lonely and eccentric, and couldn't just ask someone nicely if they wanted to
come hang out. He didn't seem capable of saying anything nice; the kindest things were just curt
exclamations, or he'd look away from you when handing you something.
It was Friday night when he came home from work and went into his bedroom right away. After about
two hours, I crept up and peeked through the crack, but I couldn't see anything. I went back past my
room, headed for the basement, when he opened the door and yelled. "HORSE! Get over here."
I stopped and turned, to see his muzzle and a gloved hand peek out the door. He beckoned and then
disappeared back inside. I padded over and stuck my face in the door; he was sitting on a big
leather armchair, the old-school kind that that was all wood and overstuffed padding. He was clad...
it was ridiculous, kind of. Kneecap-high riding boots with those straight spurs that horse-jumping
guys wear, leather riding pants with this, this snap-on pouch thing covering his dick, a leather
vest, a leather tuxedo coat, leather riding gloves. He had a glass of scotch in one hand and a big,
fat cigar stuck in the side of his muzzle, and this Hugh Hefner "I own the place" look.
"Take off your clothes and come here. Kneel." I slipped out of my jeans, then came over and knelt.
My cock drooped down, and he looked at it, then pushed a boot out. I stiffened as the toe slid under
the black head and nudged it. "Take care of my boots, horse."
I stared down at the black leather. It looked fine to me, maybe like it'd been in the closet for a
while, but not like he'd been walking in shit or anything. He started to lean forward, and I ducked
my head down, ears hot. I was maybe halfway towards a boot when he gave the heel a clop to the
floor. "I said take care of my boots. You see this?" He pointed over to a matching ottoman with a
box on top. "For real."
I scooted over to the box and opened it. A big soft-bristle brush, a smaller brush, a big stained
rag, a few little cans of... boot polish. "Uhh. Like you want me to shine them?"
He didn't answer. Luckily, my parents made me go to church as a kid, and I had to wear nice shoes.
My cowboy boots, I never polished them. Sometimes I'd buff them with a pair of undies or put some of
that smelly mink jizz on them but they mostly just looked like I wore them. Polishing shoes is a
pain in the ass. Polishing boots... this was the real thing, it took an hour straight. He even made
me dye the sole edges. When I was done, he sat there, puffing at the fat cigar and nursing that
scotch. It was a whole full lowball when he started, and by the end, he was a little bleary-eyed and
leering at me.
"Don't touch my boots any more," he said, muzzle tilting down, eyes locking on me. The look brought
up the flight instinct; that wasn't a human look, it was an animal. I snorted and reared back on my
knees. He was gonna attack me, I knew it. He was gonna rape me again. "Take it out." I started to
open my mouth. "Shut up. I didn't say talk, I said take it out."
I reached forward and put a hand over that bulging pouch, then looked him in the eye. "Yeah, that's
it, take it out," he said, patronizing, mumbling around the cigar. I started pulling the snaps off,
and as soon as I had the pouch open a little... the stench of sex. God damn, he had to have jacked
off earlier. It made me sniff and snort, but it was... good. It was bad good, it was embarrassing
but it made me flush and start getting hard. He wasn't very hard, and his cock had this... this
thing around the base of it. Like a little harness, a strap around the whole package, then another
one around the balls. It started swelling up, head filling out the foreskin until it peeked from the
end, but the whole thing still drooped down. I reached out for it, and he grabbed my hand in that
hard, gloved grip.
"Don't touch _anything_," he growled, then sat back with a slow creak of leather. "Hands behind your
back."
I did as he asked, hands behind my back, then leaned forward. I started to kiss the head, just
letting my lips tug and squeeze at it. He let out a little hff sound, and I felt the black meat
twitch. Now this... this I could get into. I love dick, and he had a nice dick. And I have lips,
which means everyone with a dick loves my mouth. The only reason that humans don't take over the
hybrid dick-sucking business is because horses have big cocks themselves and people are fickle. His
dick smelled like sex and it tasted like salty sweat and come, but I just kept kissing and slurping.
My tongue squirmed around the head, worked that loose flesh, then I let my teeth carefully tug on
the skin until it slid out and rolled back. He let out a deeper groan and grabbed at the edge of the
chair arm hard enough to creak it. That big droop was straighter now, and the shaft trembled with
his heartbeat.
When I slid my mouth on again, he grabbed at my mane. That just made me twist my head, bob down the
length, then suck and pull back. My cheeks caved in until a wet slurp of air broke the suction, and
down I went again. He grabbed more, then started directing me. Twist here, work the head there, I
felt like my mouth was just a sex toy for his dick and the rest of me was just the pair of balls on
a dildo, something to hold onto. I really wanted to kiss and suck at the head, pull on the skin with
my lips, but he kept forcing me further down. "Keep it in your mouth," he snarled, body shifting in
the chair, boot swinging out to grab me around the back. My hands, having nothing better to do,
touched at the freshly polished shaft. That got me harder. I'd never really *felt* a boot like that;
my boots were just flashy, they just seemed right. His felt like sex.
I expected him to make me jackhammer his dick, but he didn't. He just suddenly snarled and clutched
at the back of my head, lips curled, drooling as he unloaded in my mouth. There was so much of it,
he was like a horse, real hard squirts. He wouldn't let me pull off, and kept trying to ram my
throat. "Swallow. Swallow! I don't want to see anything on your lips, anything on your tongue,
anything running down my fucking _balls_." I gulped hard, and it was gone down the hatch. He let me
go, and I watched his dick throb itself back to drooping. His hand curled against the edge of the
chair arm again.
"Thank you," I said.
"Thank me the right way," he sneered, whiskey-holding hand plucking his cigar out as well. The other
one uncurled fingers and drummed them on the edge of the chair. He did it again, and again, until I
stared at his fingers. "Yes..." he said, and I leaned down, nuzzled my lips against the warm glove
leather, and licked at his knuckles. I gave each one a kiss, then looked up. "Good. You're a horse,
so go over by the mirror and jack off. Bet you want to watch yourself."
I _didn't_ really want to watch myself, and I didn't want to do it in front of him, but he was
endlessly mad and I didn't want a mad wolf. I padded up to the mirror and started to touch and
stroke. I didn't have the foreskin he did, but it was all loose enough I could get a good pull
without having to slick my hand up first. I fingered through my mohawk and mane, rubbed at my
shoulder, my chest, my balls. Soon, I wet wet enough that I could hear myself jacking, and my ears
canted back, muzzle lips open. I have to say, it's a nice view... I'm kind of big, it's almost
fourteen inches long, and the head is mostly human but has a _nice_ flare to it. I looked in the
mirror at the black wolf, who watched me with his loose cock dangling, then cupped it with his
codpiece pouch, then stood up and went to the closet. I went back to what I was doing, and started
thinking of something that would get me off. The first thing that came to mind? The look on his face
as his cock dumped on my chest. Oh, shit. I flushed and stopped moving my hand.
He came up behind me and grabbed my free wrist, gloved fingers wrapping and holding hard, shoving my
arm up my back, elbow bent. He had something in his other ha-WHACK!
I don't usually make horsey sounds, but I whinnied and almost jumped off my feet when that Thing hit
my ass. I immediately snapped my head around; he had a riding crop in his hand, and the stalk had a
six-inch leather strap tail on it. "Owww! Fuck!" I wasn't really expecting a crop to hurt. Make a
loud noise, yes.
"Keep stroking," he growled, and delivered another crack, this one right across the middle of both
cheeks. I jolted again, snorting, and quickly started pumping. He kept hitting me! Again and again,
and soon I was jerking before he even laid it across my ass, which got a snicker out of the tall,
black wolf. It was so fucking embarrassing, getting a spanking like I was some misbehaving kid, and
jerking myself off, and I kept getting harder and harder, and then I paused because it was hurting
so much back there, and I came! It shot out so hard that it splattered the mirror first, floor
second, even though I was at least six feet away.
"Hrr, get down and clean up that fucking mess!" he snarled, and before I was even done, he threw me
down. Threw me, I actually fell and hit the floor, chest smacked into my own spunk, face whacking
the hard wood and grinding semen into the fur. I... I licked it up, I was still coming a little, it
still burned in there, my ass hurt, and I just had to, I had to make him happy. I licked the mess
off the mirror, off the wood floor, I rolled over and scooted my back against it. He stood over me,
mean look on his face. "Go to bed."
It wasn't really that bad, living at the wolf's house. At least at first. The actual living, fine.
Better than a stinky motel or my fighting parents. Hawk worked during the week, and seemed to have a
busy life on the weekends. When he was home, he was random enough to be exciting. Like it or not, he
was never predictable. The inscrutable lupine enigma or some bullshit like that.
On the other hand, by the end of two weeks, reality sunk in. I was captive. I couldn't leave, I
couldn't communicate with the outside world, all I could do was watch TV and movies and play video
games and sleep and eat and do whatever Hawk asked. Sometimes he'd make a big production out of a
blowjob or handjob, sometimes he'd make me do it while he was watching TV. Sometimes he had me do
things around the house like clean, other times he did it himself and had me sit around like
royalty. He only fucked me once more in those two weeks, and it was just to tease me before he came.
That time, it was all over the small of my back, and I watched with my head craned over my shoulder,
nickering because he had a vibrating egg strapped onto my dickhead and it was making me faint. It
sounds complicated, but he just rushed me and made me strip and put that thing on and pounded me,
then pulled out and came on me, and that was it.
The second saturday after I got there, after he picked me up, he made me clean up the house.
"Company's coming over," he said, as he worked out in the basement. "It's a surprise."
"But-"
"Don't argue. I told you to clean up the house."
It wasn't really hard to clean up the house, since it didn't seem to get dirty. If I left a filthy
plate on the counter, it looked so out of place that I just had to stuff it into the washer. There
wasn't anything to _do_. Someone came over early, and it was this monstrous bengal tiger in a cop
uniform. A real cop uniform, although he was a motorcycle cop so maybe it was a put-on. He was just
about the mellowest person I ever met, and seemed happy to sit around in the living room, watching
the game. The guy's name was Thor. I assumed that was his name the way Hawk was the wolf's name, as
in, it wasn't.
I asked Hawk if I should do anything, and he said no. "No one gets to touch you, do anything to you.
Don't touch anyone, either."
Ooookay, so I wasn't even going to be a little party favor. Fine with me, I'll just sit around and
look pretty. My fur'd be ugly if the rest of me wasn't nicely made. I like to think all the
stripes-into-splotches look really nice, kind of ragged, like a mohawk or tousled hair or some shit.
More and more people filed in: a lanky fox-like thing, fire red with enormous ears and long-ass glam
rocker legs, dressed like he walked off the set of one of those pirate movies; a brown horse in a
marines dress uniform who looked like he was incapable of smiling; a cougar who looked like he
didn't want to be there, wearing an expensive alligator coat and dress gloves - maybe he was the
mafia one, not the wolf?; a german shepherd in an army coat, battered fatigues and combat boots. I
didn't really pick up on everyone's names, because I didn't get to hang around them.
Maybe an hour into the drinking and hors-d'oeurvesing, I started wondering if _I_ was the surprise.
Hawk had me clean up the workout area in the basement, and I mean really clean it, like with that
green spray shit that smells like antiseptic and limes. That took a while, because he kept coming
down and telling me to do it again. Finally, I just gave up and came up stairs. He must've heard me
coming and snagged me before I could get into the hallway, then lurched me into the living room.
Everyone was sitting around in a circle, and there were a few boxes on a big ottoman in the middle.
I really didn't pay attention to the boxes, because the crowd was a lot more to look at. All but the
siberian tiger gave me cold water down my spine when I caught their eyes.
"Why don't you go open those up, huh?" Hawk growled, and gave me a shove into the middle of the room
towards that pile. The wolf was in his fancy-ass dapper leather freak outfit. He needed a cane, with
a wolf's head on the top of it or something. I stepped over, palmed over my mane, and looked at the
boxes.
"Is horse stupid?" The cougar said, clipped by some kind of old country accent.
"Shaddup," Hawk snorted. "You'd forget what day it was if you had to live in some weirdo's house."
What day it was. Oh. _OH._ That brought a huge smile to my face. I tore into the boxes. Oh god,
leather! Leather leather leather leather leather leather! Leather driving gloves, leather gauntlet
riding gloves, leather vest, leather tee-shirt, leather studded belt, fitted leather pants - with an
all-round zip and button fly, leather chaps that looked as tight as the pants, and a leather jacket.
A nice jacket, it was kind of old-looking, studs on the collar, a few chains added with rivets
around the nect under the collar... and the back, the back was customized with those little pyramid
studs. It said, "ZALE".
"Wha, wha, what the hell? What the hell is all this?" I had it laid out on the floor. "What the hell
is this! What'd I do, I didn't do nothin'!"
"It's your birthday, dumbass," the wolf sneered, lingering in the archway for the living room. Shit,
how the hell could I forget that? I thought hard for a second, and came to the conclusion that it
really had to be. The other four murmurred amongst each other. Hawk was about to say something
else, when the cougar piped up.
"Why don't you put this on for us? It is like mother asking you to wear the sweater she makes for
you." The other four looked like they were eating up the idea, but the cougar just sat there,
uncomfortable between the horse and dog, gloved hands folded in his lap. Hawk shot him a stare like
the wolf's sails just fell down.
I didn't get to answer. Hawk grabbed my arm, then let up. "Go on, pick up that stuff and come
change. Gonna show my friends your presents right." I barely had time to scoop everything up before
he snatched my arm again and dragged me off. The gear was heavy, real heavy. I'd never felt anything
like it. He stuffed me into his bedroom and I laid everything out, then looked at it.
"Do I.. do I put it all on? I mean, I dunno..." It just sat there, staring back at me, glistening a
little, all smooth and black. I was so excited that I stamped the floor a little with my bare feet.
Hawk went around to the other side of the bed and brought my cowboy boots out; I guess he'd hid them
there for just this occasion. I'd wondered where they'd gone off to.
"Well, I think you oughta make yourself look nice. You can put it on all you want on your own time,
you need to look good. It's your birthday, you need to appreciate your gifts." Hawk set my boots
down with a clunk. "Pants, boots, jacket, and the driving gloves."
That was settled. Pulling everything on was an unexpected thrill. The pants fit like a pair of
gloves. Tight, sleek gloves. "Uh, uh, where did you get the measurements?"
"I borrowed your pants while you were napping. Those jeans were custom-made, I could tell. Looked at
your shirts, your boots and gloves." Hawk stood there, watching me, riding gloves holding his blazer
lapels.
The pants didn't just snug tight, but they showed off. My ass felt like it was a tight double-bubble
waiting to get popped, and that zipper... I could feel the stiffness from it all the time, like it
was taunting me, reminding me that I was a pull away from something penetrating my asshole. The
calves of the pants were zip-tight, forcing me to pull on my boots over them. I felt so hair metal;
so my boots are these black leather things with a flashy metal cap on the toe, and studs on the
shafts. Worn outside the boots, I just needed a guitar and I could be some bratty guy from the
'80's. The jacket was so nice, too, heavy and almost too small, and anytime I even thought about
moving it made a creak. The driving gloves were like mine, except instead of being 20 dollar ones
from some shitty Pakistani import shop, they were smooth and glossy Italian leather.
I couldn't get a look in the mirror once I was fully done; I turned around to peek and Hawk grabbed
me before I got a good look. He had me marching down the hall again, then pushed me from behind into
the living room. If this was my birthday party, why was there a big white dropcloth up on a wall,
and two big umbrella things with... lights? And why did that cougar have a big-ass camera in his
now-ungloved hands? And why did that horse guy have *another* camera, a video one, which he was
adjusting? I looked back at Hawk, who provided me with a mean glare.
When I looked back, the tiger, fox thing, and dog were all staring at me, leering at me, palming
themselves without ever dropping eyes. I shuddered. I'm always scared, and always excited. A crowd
looking at me makes me feel so dirty inside, and it makes me get up a little. Being on stage in a
band was always a cock-hardening thrill. I put on a little booted strut and passed through the
drink-holding crowd, right into the little photo-shoot spot. "Oh, a photo shoot? I'm a model no-"
POP! I was right in the middle of talking when the cat took a picture. I startled and backpedaled
slightly. Pop! Another one. What kind of photographer doesn't wait for a good pose? "Why don't you
come and use him for me?" The cougar said, head craned over towards the black wolf. Hawk just
gruffed. "I tell you, Hawk, come here or I take pictures of you as-" The cougar didn't even need to
finish his threat; Hawk just stormed my way.
I thought the wolf was going to just crash into me, and backed up, bumping into the backdrop as the
wolf loomed up. Pop! Pop! Hawk grabbed me and I could swear he was going to try to rip my head off
or bash his forehead into mine or knee me in the balls, or do all kinds of terrible violent things.
Gloved hands grabbed the jacket lapels, he snarled, lips curled, nose pointed. I'm sure I had a
horrified look on my face. In fact, I know for a fact... more on that later. Anyway, the wolf
grabbed me and the cat snapped picture after picture. Gloved hands let go of me and touched my face,
my jaws. Hawk's muzzle came up on mine, black tongue out, and he started kissing me.
"Yes, kiss the whore pony, you do not kiss whores, it is wrong," the cougar growled from behind his
camera. "You are wrong. Make him feel wrong."
It felt wrong in the best way, that tongue forcing its way into my mouth, slobbering on my black
lips, penetrating and squirming against mine. I ended up grabbing the wolf's leathers, gloved hands
feeling over them, body tilted back, hips grinding against his thigh. When he pulled back, I felt
the air rush out of me and my eyes drifted over to the camera, then down a little. The wolf grabbed
me and stood behind me, like he was showing me off, or making me look in a mirror. He groped and
felt around my leathers, palmed over my increasingly tense bulge, and he had a snarling grin on his
face that made me feel like food. Pop, pop, pop, pop.
"Maybe we have fun with him. Alzarre, go up and play with the nice horse," the cougar said.
"Hey, I said he doesn't get to touch anyone," Hawk groused. The cougar just hissed, and growled with
an alarmingly high-pitched descending rrrrwrl. "Fine. Just don't put anything in his ass." Hawk
disengaged from me and went to stand over by the seated tiger. He was replaced by the fox-thing.
Alzarre seemed to be just on the edge of falling flat on his face. He moved like a drunk who had
learned how to stay upright by falling in the direction he wanted to walk. He had a cool outfit,
these over-knee black leather swashbuckler boots, sailor-front red leather riding pants, a big
ruffled white shirt with a blood-red leather vest over it, and gleaming black gloves. He was the
weirdest-looking fox I'd ever seen, he had to be well over six and a half feet tall (taller than
Hawk) and had this big ruff around his neck. Alzarre came up to me and grabbed me, then pushed down.
"That wolf," he said, and pointed a gloved hand towards Hawk, "Has told me that you have a nice
mouth. I expect so, you're a horse. I think a nice mouth will make for some nice pictures." Oh god,
when he opened his mouth, it was like every movie villain ever all at once. Syrupy, patronizing,
slight British accent that covered up another accent. I almost laughed as I crouched down onto one
knee.
"Do not get out of the picture," the cougar hissed, and Alzarre dragged me forwards a couple of
feet. As soon as I stopped moving, he started opening up his leather pants. This big flap unbuttoned
and hung down, and his dick flopped out. It wasn't black, instead a kind of deep tan with a
pronounced glans. And shit, was it long. It had to be a solid foot. It was so long, the entire
length drooped past the halfway point. I didn't waste any time, kissing and suckling at the head
just like Hawk had been making me do before. Alzarre had his hands all over my face, pushing my head
off, pulling it forward, stroking his gloved fingers all over. I looked up now and then, to see him
turn towards the camera and mug. The cat kept snapping pictures, and the flashes grew less and less
annoying until I was expecting them every few seconds. When I could see past Alzarre, Hawk was
there in the relative darkness, staring at me.
All of a sudden, Alzarre was trying to stuff it in my throat. I'd never really had anyone back
there, and thought I was going to throw up. I heaved and gagged and started slobbering down my face
and neck, and the cougar came up close with the camera. I quickly learned that if I either swallowed
constantly, or tried to relax with as much zen as I could muster, it wasn't so bad. The fox-thing
was really, really intent on me deep-throating. Every time I pulled off, he just stuffed it back in
after I had a gasp of air. When he pulled back, cock dripping spit, I realized that I was about to
come in my pants. I panted, palmed my mohawk. "God, you're so big for a fox," I said.
That was a terrible mistake. Alzarre got a look on his face like I'd just said his mother was a
tarty harlot. Tarty harlot because that's the kind of thing someone would say to his mom, not "Your
mom's a fat cunt." Definitely the received type. "Did you just call me a fox?" I could see Hawk
rolling his eyes in the background when Alzarre complained.
"Uh, well, I mean," I said, licking spit off my lips. "You're a fox."
"I am absolutely, certainly, definitely not a 'fox'," he said, leaning back almost far enough to
lose his balance. "I, am a maned wolf, a rare type of thing you might find in South America, perhaps
Argentina. I am not a fox, I do not act like a fox, I do not smell like a fox, and I do not
appreciate being called a fox."
I shrugged. "Sorry." Then he grabbed my jaw, pinching my mouth open. In went his cock, and he
started fucking my mouth again. All of a sudden, wet. He was coming, and I gulped it down. Hot,
salty, and.. disgusting, bitter. I gulped again, then gagged. I sniffed a little, and yanked off.
Spray hit my nose, lips, chin, and dribbled down the bare fur of my chest. Glad I didn't wear that
leather shirt or do up the jacket, because _HE FUCKING PISSED IN MY MOUTH_. Pop pop pop went the
cat's goddamn camera flashes, capturing me getting a mouthful of piss. All the sudden arousal from
having my throat _penetrated_ disappeared into an attempt to keep from barfing. You don't want to
see a horse barf. Horses aren't supposed to barf.
Hawk did nothing except stare and grin. Alzarre grabbed my face again and I grabbed for his hand,
trying to force it away. The german shepherd got up off the sofa and clopped over my way. After a
chiding from the cougar to stay out of the way of the shot, the GSD just stood there. "So are you
gonna to come in his mouth, pretty boy?"
"Absolutely not, after being insulted like that?" Alzarre let go of my face and crossed his arms.
The dog looked down at me like I was a housepet. "Well, looks like he ain't fond of piss in his
mouth. How 'bout we wash that out." He snatched me, doing the same damn vet-pinch as Alzarre, then
leaned down. He hocked and spit in my mouth, again and again, until I wrenched away. My face felt
cold and slick, my ears were so hot I thought they would light on fire, and I was close to coming
again. Why? I couldn't tell why, I was just so turned on.
"He looks like he is in heaven, and hell, at same time," the cougar said. Mind you, this entire
fucking time that horse guy was videotaping me, but unlike the cougar, he did it without being
noticable.
The dog ground my face against his fatigues, and jesus christ, he.. he.. I don't think he washed
them. They were stained with come and precum, and stank like dog crotch and wet fur and buckets of
stale chlorine. Soon, he had his sheath against my face, and then his bare dick. "Suck my _balls_,
pony boy," he ordered, and I drew them in. He almost kicked me in the nuts as I did it, and he
started jerking and playing with his cock. I looked over towards Hawk. He was whispering something
in the tiger's ear, then came up and did the same to the dog. The GSD suddenly left me alone,
standing up and to the side. Alzarre wandered back to his seat and downed whatever drink he had,
then played with himself as he watched.
Within seconds, I had a german shepherd on one side of me and a gigantic hulk of a tiger on the
other. I tried to stand up, but two big hands shoved me back down to my knees, leaned me back
against the backdrop. I tried pushing my head towards either cock, but a big hand pushed me back.
The two just stood there and jerked off, the tiger grunting, dog just pounding his cock through his
fist. The cat looked ready to pop, but he kept himself timed to the dog. I looked between the two,
then over at the cougar and horse, both of them poised with lenses towards me.
The dog suddenly switched from shaft to knot, and come just erupted out of that weird scalloped tip
doggies have. The first shot splattered me in the chin, and the rest started pumping onto my bare
chest. Oh god. I stared at it, all the gouts of white flinging out, the way it started sliding
slowly down my fur, gathering in that trough between the pecs. The dog seemed uninterested as soon
as he was finished, and just turned around, stalking back to a couch. He struck up a conversation
with the still-jerking Alzarre thing.
The tiger seemed like he was having trouble, gloved fist pumping his cock hard enough to smack the
balls back and forth, face contorted into an animal look of strain. Then I saw some white start to
dribble out of the fat mushroom head as his skin slapped back and forth over it. He finally let out
a thunderous growling roar and spunk pumped out. It didn't spray like the dog's, but spurted in
sticky jets that barely made it to my chest. He had to kick forward a little so it could dump onto
my pecs, leaving strands almost touching the black leather. I almost came again. I stayed absolutely
still so my cock wouldn't move around in those tight leather pants. My heart pounded as I knelt
there with come all over my chest, and I could feel it in the fur.
"How do you feel when you are a mess like that?" The cougar asked, as if he was trying to be loud
enough to be heard.
I stared back at the cameras. I lifted a hand, slid the glove leather through the cooling mess on my
chest. It was so gross... I tried to spread it into the fur so it at least wouldn't be so slimy and
_obvious_. "I... I really want to come, I feel like a slut and a toy and when y-you two came on me,
I almost came in the pants."
Everyone just sneered at me.
What happened at the rest of the party? Everyone talked about me, looked at me, that maned wolf guy
blew a load that I swear almost hit the ceiling, everyone crowded around Bruce's camcorder to
watch... Hawk wouldn't let me. He said I'd get my turn. Then, they all decided to take off to go
somewhere else, some prior engagement in town, chauffeured by the stoic Bruce. The only one left was
Kyle, who seemed like he was going to sit around in the living room and drink, watching some porn
that the wolf had. I didn't get to see what it was, since Hawk dragged me down into the basement. He
loved forcing me around the house, I mean I would have done whatever he told me, he didn't have to
snatch my arm and haul me around like a little kid. He took me over to the little gym area and threw
me onto one of the weight benches, basically punching me in the shoulder to face forward. I
flattened against the bench, gloved hands holding on to the cold metal legs.
"I'm not too drunk to fuck this time," he growled, and heaved his dick out of his pants. He was hard
as a rock, no cock and ball harness necessary. He let go of the shaft and slapped my leather-clad
ass, then unzipped that back zip. The wolf then loomed over me, and stuffed his slimy dickhead right
in. It hurt, even though he made a ton of precum. It hurt, that awful burn and cramp, and I huffed
and struggled against the bench, leather squeaking. But then I imagined all the cold, congealing
jizz on my chest getting ground against the bench, and I loosened, groaned, brayed out as he sunk
in. "I'm not too drunk, and I'm going to come in your ass, horse."
His gloved hand seized the collar of my jacket, and he pumped in, then sat himself on the end of the
bench. The other hand reached around and smeared around on my chest, then came up to my face. I got
to smell two different flavors of jizz, before he smashed the glove leather against my lips. I
mouthed and sucked at the digits, face burning up, tongue squirming around his fingers. Leather in
my mouth, come in my mouth, I felt like such a piece of meat, and I squirmed and squirmed as his
body rocked in. His hand left my face, grabbed the other shoulder, and he started to fuck. He was
mean about it, hard jabs, sometimes pulling the head out to stuff it back inside, sometimes clapping
leather to leather. Violent, always growling, sneering down at me, spit hanging off his black lips.
I just clutched on to the legs of that bench as he railed me, body shifting involuntary as he filled
me up again and again, dizzy from the stirring penetration. I turned to look over my shoulder, and
there was the dog.
"You oughta stuff his mouth up with something. He's gonna bray out good when he goes off. And he's
gonna go off. Look at that face, yep." The dog crossed his arms, knotted dick hanging out of his
pants. Hawk stopped thrusting.
"Oh yeah?" The wolf said, head twisting over his leather-clad shoulder. I could feel his cock twitch
inside me.
"Maybe a sock. Yeah, some of those heavy boot socks. Take a piss in 'em, then ball 'em up and stuff
his mouth. Gonna make him gag and retch an' squeeze that horsey shit-hole up." The dog's dick
twitched upwards, and a pump of precum came out.
"Kyle-"
"Or lemme get over there, sit down, and pull his head down into my lap. See if I can stuff his
throat, he was gonna come when that freak foxy buddy of yours was pumping in there."
"Kyle-"
"Yeah, I'm gonna do that," the GSD said, and started over towards the bench. He was maybe three feet
away when Hawk unplugged from my ass and drove a black fist into the dog's face. It hit hard, sharp
clap from leather on lips, and the dog barked and went down like a rock. He splayed onto his back on
the workout mat, gurgling and coughing, big hands clutched up at his face. "Sonofabiuhh," he
mumbled.
"That fucking puma went home, Kyle. I'm calling the shots, and I'm gonna shoot in my horse, and
you're gonna leave me the fuck alone," Hawk snorted, then went back in. He started fucking again,
hard, hard enough his balls smacked around. All of a sudden, he tensed up and grabbed at my leathers
hard, and I could feel his cock pulse inside. "RRURUNNH! There it is, horse, there's my fucking
come. No more, unh, no more fucking disputes over you."
When he pulled out, I felt it run down out of my asshole, over my balls, and into the leather pants.
I felt like I had a giant empty space inside. Hawk sat on the bench for a few moments, then wiped
his dickhead off and slapped me with the mess. He went over to Kyle, grabbed him under the arms, and
dragged him off upstairs.
I didn't know what to do, and Hawk was taking so long, that I finally took my cock out and worked it
off. I squirted all over the leather-padded seat on that bench, then leaned down, sniffed at it, and
slurped the mess up. When I was done, Hawk would never know that I'd blown off down there.
It really had been my birthday. I was starting to lose track of what day it was. I knew what day of
the week it was based on when Hawk worked, but I somehow never really paid attention to the date
even when it was plastered all over the television news. I spent my time conflicted. Sometimes, I
would do something fun, like play around in all that leather the wolf bought me. My favorite
combination so far was the jacket, leather vest, pants, boots, and the long-cuff riding gauntlets. I
loved how the leather cuff slapped at the jacket arm when I jerked off, and how all that gear
creaked against itself if I ground into the bed. I didn't seem to get tired of looking in the mirror
at myself, either. I'd always wanted a flashy outfit, but actually having it, actually sliding into
the heavy, rich-smelling leather, then showing off... it was a complete turn-on. Aside from the sex,
the wolf had given me a guitar. Apparently it was from a friend, but along with it and an amp and an
old digital eight-track recorder, I was starting to whip up some killer tunes while the wolf did
whatever he did for a job.
On the other hand, he started locking the dungeon room so I couldn't get in there and play. He had
some awesome jackoff toys, and when I asked if I could at least take them out, he just gave me a
dagger look and walked away. Not to mention that any time I stopped sleeping, eating, or occupying
myself, I started getting the nagging feeling that my life really didn't exist. I was just a toy for
him to play with - only sometimes - otherwise to be ignored like any other object. I started trying
to take care of Hawk a little, and we got to a point where he'd come home and I would tell just from
the strength of his glare whether he wanted to sit with cigar in mouth and dick in _my_mouth, or
whether he wanted to watch television alone while I made him dinner. My parents would have killed
me if they caught me cooking _meat_ for a _wolf_.
Just when the routine had settled in fully, I woke up on a saturday - This had to be months later -
and found Hawk stomping around in an outfit I hadn't seen. It wasn't really fetish wear, but it
wasn't _not_ fetish. Knee-high treaded boots that looked like they were made of saddle leather,
padded-knee fitted motorcycle pants, a severely heavy-duty leather jacket with quilt-padded arms,
these strange 'tight' gauntlet gloves that came up partway to his elbows. "Where'd you get all
that?" I asked, looking up from my breakfast of leftovers. Hawk stopped and stared at me.
"I'm going out for a ride."
I vaguely recalled seeing a motorcycle in his garage the first time he brought me over. "Oh." That
was the extent of the conversation. He left, and soon the deafening chopper rumble picked up in the
garage, then pulled outside and roared up the drive. After I finished my food, I decided I was going
to surprise him. I was going to put on all my gear and wait for him to come home. I'd been on a
friend's bike once, and the powerful vibrations made me really wound up down there, and if anyone
could get wound up, it was Hawk. I blushed as I pulled on my leathers, opting for the chaps and no
pants underneath, thinking about what he'd do to me if he liked it. Or what he'd do to me if he
didn't. I pictured him ignoring me, then coming in at night, and... I started feeling sick and
helpless, and turned on, as I thought about that first night when he raped me. I ended up in bed,
lying there fully geared up, ears waiting for that big rumble to come back.
Somehow I fell asleep and missed it, only waking when I heard the garage door rattle. I scrambled
out of bed and sole-walked out into the hallway, then hid behind the living room archway. A second
or two later, the garage entry opened and I heard boot clomps, then the creak of leather. Then a
deep, Vader-esque huffing. What? I stepped out into the hallway to look. Hawk was in the same riding
gear, but his head was buried inside of a helmet. It wasn't just a regular helmet with the long
muzzle-point for a wolf. It was shaped like a wolf head, black and angular, eye holes made of these
dark mirrored trapezoids. It was the full enclosure kind of helmet, like for a dirt bike or sport
bike. It made his breathing turn into a heavy whuff, and I couldn't tell if he saw me or not. He
stopped walking and stared. Then he started again, stomping down the hallway. I couldn't move. I was
terrified, he looked like some kind of anonymous biker villain from a movie.
He grabbed me by the neck. His gloved hand lifted up and grabbed, and mine swung up and clutched at
it. He wasn't strangling, just holding, breathing in that helmet and I guess he was staring at me.
Then he just started walking again, dragging me backwards. He kept going until he got to the dungeon
room door, thumped me against it, and keyed it open. Inside we went. Suddenly it was hard to look at
him, because the room was decorated with giant photo prints. Of me. Of me and him making out, of me
giving the camera a sultry and shamed look, of me taking Alzarre's dick, of me with piss spilling
out of my mouth, me with a huge glob of dog spit midway between that dog Kyle's mouth and mine, me
with arcs of dog-come painted on my front and one midair, me smearing a blackgloved hand through the
cummy mess on my chest. The pictures went all the way around the room at eye level.
"I'm going to hurt you," Hawk said behind that helmet. He dragged me into the middle of the room,
where he'd set up that flogging cross. Flogging cross. I just stared, terrified, as he started
cuffing me up into it. It wasn't the kind where it's like a big X that you get strapped to. It was
this huge frame and _I_ made up the X, boots and wrists cuffed hard into these chain cuff things,
hands even getting to grip at a pull bar for each. "You put on that fuck gear and you leave your ass
and dick bare, horse, and I take advantage of it." He spoke slow and loud so I could hear through
the helmet.
I pulled on the arm holds and the leg cuffs. This wasn't playful stuff. I couldn't move. I even
tried to pull a foot out of my boot, but the ankle cuff down there was just too snug. "I, I don't
know, maybe you could just suck me. I mean, I could suck you, or you could fuck me, I like getting
fucked. You even c-came in my-"
Hawk had gone over to the other side of the room and returned with a flogger. It looked like a very
thick belt with a kind of handle. Flat, black leather, glossy and it barely wobbled. It had holes
drilled in it. WHACK! "OW! Son of a bitch!"
"Why did you decide to come here?" WHACK!
"ARHH! I.. what? What?" He hit me hard enough that it hurt, but not enough that it really, really
hurt. WHACK! "Owwhr, okay, I uh, I dunno! I thought you just were gonna fuck me and let me go!"
The next hit nailed me on just one rumpcheek, going upwards. He seemed to be backing off. "Are you
an idiot? Are you just a stupid slut? You're leaving here a different person, horse." The next hit
was across both cheeks, and it stung violently. I twisted my head around and saw him pulling back
again. I flinched forward hard, but that wasn't enough. CRACK! "And I'm going to enjoy watching you
change." One gloved hand still wielding that flogger, the helmeted wolf hit me again. The sting was
now lasting right into the next hit. Being tied, standing there, the wolf's leathers, that
expressionless helmet, the pictures around the room... each time he hit me I saw less and less of
everything, until the entire room was just my body and my ass. I could hear him growling, snorting.
I could feel him grabbing my mohawk so I couldn't turn around and watch.
"I don't wanna, I don't wanna-AHH! Change I don't wanna change I-AAIEE! Stop, stop, I can't
taaaaAAAKE! I can't take this, I can't take this!" I panicked, he kept hitting harder and harder,
each whack landing in a slightly different place so that each had fresh impact, fresh pain. It was
so abrupt and so overwhelming that I felt my face burn up, and then tears welled out of my eyes,
streamed down my snout, dripped off onto my fucking _cock_. It wasn't just sobbing; I bawled. I'd
never felt so bad in my entire life, chest heaving. I flinched forward, and nothing happened. I sunk
my head and gagged, tried to wipe my muzzle off on my shoulder. The wolf walked around in front of
me, and stood there, cock dribbling. It dripped come onto the floor, and his gloved hand was smeared
with it. He wiped it off on my chest, then walked right out of the room.
After ten minutes, I finally ran out of sobs. I stood there, still cross-shackled, chest suddenly
heaving in that awful after-cry spasm. I felt warm, almost giddy, exhausted and excited like I'd
just gotten off a rollercoaster. My cock felt tingly, like I was drunk. "Hawk?" No answer. Now that
I was calming down, I had to pee. "Hawk, I.. I gotta take a leak."
If the wolf was in the house, he either didn't hear me or wasn't going to do anything. It was at
least an hour before he returned. He'd shed the strange helmet and jacket, switched the gloves for
tight short patrol ones, and was carrying.. a bucket. With a big corrugated-hose funnel in it, and
some kind of leather thing set alongside the funnel. The other hand had that flogger and a _fucking
bullwhip_ in it. He had on a leather vest and a cigar in his mouth. "I bet you're thirsty," he said.
"I... I gotta piss, man. I'm not kidding, it's fucking awful. It hurts. C'mon, lemme down and l-let
me go?"
The wolf took the leather thing out of the bucket and unfurled it. It was... it was a feed bag. Like
you put on a horse. "You have to piss? That's nice. You also need water or you're gonna get
dehydrated." He stuffed my snout into the bag, and then strapped it on around my head. It stank of
leather. Then he pulled a big squirt bottle out of the bucket and emptied it into the leather bag.
The water came right up to my lips. "Drink that all, and I'll make it easy for you to piss. Fuck
around, and I'll just leave and you can piss on the floor. Here's a hint, horsey, that I don't like
cleaning up horse-piss from the floor."
"I don't know how!" I muffled inside the bag, then coughed as I snorted water. I started slurping at
the surface, but that only got me a few gulps. Eventually, I tilted my head back and gulped the rest
down. It tasted like leather, and kind of musky. I guess I'd been a little thirsty, but now I had to
piss even more. The wolf just left the bag on my face, forcing me to smell the stink of wet musky
leather, and stood over by the wall. His cock was out - he'd switched to chaps - and he idly played
around with it as he stared at me. Maybe ten minutes and I was grunting. "You gotta let me piss. You
gotta let me piss."
The wolf came away from the wall and plucked the funnel out of the bucket, then held it in front of
my cock. I'm kind of... I'm kind of piss shy. Yeah, that's funny, isn't it? I really couldn't get
any out, and my bladder _ached_. "What the hell's the matter with you? Am I going to have to get a
catheter?"
"What? What's that?" I kept trying to piss, and kept not succeeding. "Oh shit, no, no no no no no
you're not gonna stick anything in there. No way. No way."
"You'd be surprised, horse, just how good it can feel."
"NO!" There we go! A little shock took care of me. Hiss it went into the funnel, and it splattered
into the bucket. My face heated up again, and I looked away. A deep groan replaced that deep ache,
and soon I was just squeezing out the last little dribbles. "See? I don't need, I don't need
anything.. stuck in there."
Hawk thankfully took the bucket away instead of doing anything with it involving me. I could hear
him dumping it into the toilet out of sight across the hall. When he returned, he picked up that
strap flogger again. "I think we'll save the bullwhip for another day. Your ass doesn't look too
good and I don't feel like taking that jacket off. So, I seem to remember something from the other
day." He came up to me, stroked my chin and took that feedbag off. His other hand teased under my
dickhead with the flogger. "Wait, I gotta do something first." He grabbed a big rubber bit gag and
started ramming it into my mouth. "This isn't because it's hot. Wanna give you something to bite
down on, like those football players."
The gag had a harness on it, and before I knew what was restricting my tongue, he had me bridled
like... a horse. I immediately drooled, unable to swallow easily with that thing stuffed inside. It
had to be as big around as a beer bottle, but at least I could chew on it and get some give. "Aahh
dunh wannah ooohh iiish," I mumbled. "Leaaeasss? Lees?" Once I was gagged up, the wolf just kept
teasing my dickhead with that flogger. I stared down at it, stared as the smooth black leather slid
around my shaft. Up one side, down the other. Up the underside, around the head once, twice, under
again and WHACK! He hit the top of my glans and I screamed. I could feel the strain as my chest
heaved upwards and just ran out of room to stretch, arms strained, legs kicking and flailing as I
lost my balance but the whipping cross's bindings just didn't let me go. I panicked, fighting and
snorting, braying and lashing my head; I could swear my feet would go out any second and I'd crash
down, but nothing ever happened.
The wolf slowly paced around me. "I'm not an idiot. You wanted something. You wanted something out
of me. You were terrified of me and you stared at me when I walked past you on the street. I know
that kind of fear, and it doesn't make you run away. It makes you do anything you can to make it go
away." Now you have to imagine this little monologue spoken by some guy with a redneck-tinged Bronx
drawl.
The next whack hit me on the ass, but not where the flogger hit before. There must've been an inch
somewhere that had never been hit, because a fresh sting shot up my spine. "So I thought I'd play
around with you. What do I find out? I hit you on the ass and you come in like twenty fucking
seconds." Instead of another hit, that flogger came up between my legs and slid along the underside
of my balls.
"NNnnnrrrhhhnnanwwwrr! NAAWW!" I pinched my asscheeks together, wedging thighs close enough that
Hawk had to yank his arm to get it free.
"Do you think I'm going to hit your balls?" He said, into my ear. "Do you think that?" The flogger
came around my body, up to my face, pushed against my nose. I could smell my own nut-sweat on it. He
slapped my nose and I snorted, slobbered on myself. "If I hit you in the nuts, you're gonna shit all
over or throw up. I don't play like that. Maybe if that dog was over here, except I don't let him
play that either. Here, everything has one outcome." He grabbed my chin with the other hand and
lifted my face up. Right ahead of me on the wall was the picture of me creamed on like someone had
tripped carrying a bucket of white glue. He hit me again, while I was busy staring at the picture.
This time it was right behind my dickhead, on the top of the shaft. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but it
was a different kind of hurt than the flared glans. It was more hurt, less... less good.
The wolf disengaged from behind me and stalked around front, and then went at it. He hit my dick
hard enough from underneath that the head thumped against my abs. He hit it to the side, then hit it
again when it swung back, then flipped around and beat left and right until I was stamping and
twisting in the ankle cuffs, actual strings of spit flinging off my face. I saw them on the floor
later, big arcs of spittle making a kind of tribal pattern to either side. Hawk looked like some
kind of demon, muzzle tilted down, ears straight up, black lips curled up, brow furrowed over his
yellow eyes. I could pay attention to this because I was kind of out of my body, the sensation from
my dick was just too much, I had some kind of limit and now I was over it.
He grabbed my face and tilted me up towards the ceiling. That snapped me out of it. Seeing that
flogger hit my dick, over and over, was unreal. Without seeing it, I could only feel it. I felt like
I was going to scream, like my insides were knotting up, like I would collapse into myself like a
black hole, and then it all came out. Imagine the worst and best feelings of your life at the same
time. I brayed, and it was a coughing, screaming, sobbing kind of bray. I remember seeing a big gout
of white shooting up into the air in front of me, like a geyser. Then everything fell out of
everything. I quivered with some kind of weird afterglow, like I was being electrified.
The wolf took me down and walked me down the hall. I watched all that hard wood and those hard
corners of his house all tilt past. He was taking me into his room. He wrapped me in a towel,
scrubbed me hard, until my fur stuck out funny. That didn't do it, so he pushed me into the shower.
It hurt, and I sobbed and sputtered as he washed me off, then blew-dry my fur until I was almost
fluffy. Back into the bedroom, and into bed. My ass hurt, my cock hurt. Both things hurt so much I
had to lie on my side, but that barely did it.
Hawk's hand showed up in front of my face, with a couple of pills on it. "Here. Whenever you get
something done to you and you get painkillers, keep some around. They come in handy." Like a
dumbass, I took them, gulping them down with some water he slushed into my mouth. Within an hour,
the room was turning into a haze of gold and gray, and that pain was... somewhere else. I was in and
out of sleep for a few hours, and I could swear I had arms around me. I came around completely into
a dark room. I rolled over, and that awful mind-numbing sting was just an annoying ache. Next to me,
under the black sheets, was Hawk, lying on his side. He was asleep, face and arms splayed on a
pillow.
For months and months and months after that, things were different. I didn't think about anything.
My mind was totally zen wiped. My entire existance was that wolf. It wasn't love, I mean not at all,
totally not. It was devotion, and devotion without love is one of those weird things that people do.
It's really human, but at the same time it's an animal thing, like a riding horse is kind of
devoted, it just is there to be ridden around, it exists to be ridden beyond just allowing it. Yeah.
So he would.. it was a lot more consistent, he wasn't so random like for that first month or so. I
was Hawk's outlet, and I guess he was my outlet. It was almost habitual, so every few days, he'd do
something completely different, switching from having me blow him to some sort of involved leather
worship that ended in me licking up his come, switching to him tying me up and teasing me for
*hours*, switching to him coming into my room and taking me in the middle of the night.
That last one always got me. I never stopped being scared of the doorknob turning, growing hard and
sweaty and pounding in my chest as his boots came down the hall. It made me think of all those
horrible tales of, of child abuse people would talk about, and I wondered if that's what it was
like, knowing someone was coming to use you, but you were so close to them.
I had no idea what was going on in the real world. I stopped caring about news and things, I just
ate and slept and cared for his leathers when he was gone, made sure all of his toys were clean and
orderly. One thing Hawk couldn't really deal with was keeping his sex toys straightened out. He had
a habit of keeping doors locked inexplicably in the house, and after several months I found out that
it was just because he didn't want me seeing a mess until he felt like cleaning it up. With me
cleaning it up, there was only one door locked, that room at the far end of the hall.
He only indulged me in my most intense fetish maybe once a week if that. It was always when I was
tied up, restrained so heavily that I could barely breathe, and he'd play with my cock forever and
ever, going from teasing to licking to sucking to stroking it, to tugging, pulling, then slapping.
Once he started slapping me, I would finish fast. A few times, he didn't stop when I came. That
ended up with me sobbing, but it was the kind of sobbing you do just because you have to. Is
everyone else like that, or is it just me?
One night, I woke up in his bed. Hawk let me sleep in his bed most of the time, unless he
specifically wanted to enact his little rape fetish, and would even sometimes hold me while I slept.
Whatever. I woke up and he wasn't there and something was wrong. There was a note by the side of the
bed. I looked at it, unfolded it. "You aren't anyone any more." What the hell? I crept out of bed
and started looking for where the wolf had gone. I checked every room, and there was no trace of him
at all. I checked the garage; his truck was there, as was the mustang and custom chopper.
When I came up from checking the basement, the otherwise dark hallway had light streaming out into
it in a bright sliver. It came from that always-locked door at the end of the hallway. I stepped up,
glad that I'd decided to go to sleep naked since there were no boot clops - sometimes the wolf had
me wear all my gear to bed! - and peeked in the crack. The room was.... just another dungeon. That
was a letdown. In fact, it was basically empty compared to the other one. There was only one object
in view, and it was one of those bondage sawhorse things, like a padded bench with kind of uh
shelves to put your knees and forearms. I actually kind of liked using the other one, it made
getting done in the ass real comfy. I pushed on the door slightly and it didn't creak open, just
parted further. I pushed more, stuck my head inside the room. It was actually kind of dim in there,
but the rest of the house was so dark it just looked bright. I held my mohawk flat and stuck more
head in. Still nothing, although it smelled weird. Suddenly I had a funny vision in my head from the
smell. It was like having a cavity filled, with the dentist's latex-clad hands stuffed in my mouth.
That was the smell, that chemical rubber scent.
Since no one seemed to be in the room, I pushed the door further and stepped in. Just as soon as my
whole body was inside, this black Thing moved in the corner of my sight and slammed the door shut. I
just wigged out and lept back, backpedaling until I smacked the wall. I nickered and snorted,
overcome with enough of a startle that all those animal bits came out. That thing that shut the
door, it was... it was... black. Black leather? No, black *rubber*. Huge boots, knee high, harness
style... sort of. Molded heavy rubber, squared toe, cowboy heel, a few buckles up the outside of
each. Pants were, I guess, more heavy rubber, fitted down those thick quads, shaped to accentuate
it. The crotch had a codpiece pouch with that curved-snake shape of a cock and two balls wedged into
the stretchy stuff. The upper body was, it wasn't a shirt, it was like armor, muscle shapes cut into
more rubber. The stuff went down his arms, disappeared into massive gauntlets, buckles up the
outside of those, hands fitted out into heavy molded gloves. His shoulders had a cape around them,
clasped in front with some sort of wolf-head design buckle thing, and the cape had to be black,
satin-lined leather. And the head.... it was this massive gas mask thing, like his bike helmet but
rubber, all hard angles forming a wolf, those same black trapezoids for eyes, furrowed brow ridge,
canine snout. The snout had air hoses coming off from these right angle tube things which then ran
back behind him, stuck into something under that cape. He breathed, and must have been trying to be
quiet before as it came out in these deep, masked huffs straight out of a sci-fi movie.
He came over to me, not with any intimidating slow stomp but just a hard, fast stalk. He grabbed me
by the neck, just holding hard at the sides, at the tendons, and pulled me with him. He threw me
down onto that sawhorse and I realized this wasn't really like the other one at all. It was the same
general idea, a padded thing to put you on all fours so you could get your ass violated, but this
one had a kind of oval cutout for the face. I got to see that cutout up real close because he
stuffed my face right down into it. It shoved at my forehead and around the jawbone, and I'm sure if
he'd pushed hard enough it would have choked me. I tried to pull back, but I couldn't. Those
rubber-gloved hands had something strapped around my neck, some kind of collar that fixed to a huge
strap around the whole bench. I kind of flailed my hands around, and he wedged them into these
massive padded cuffs. I couldn't budge them, but the cuffs didn't cut or dig or anything, they just
_held_. Ankles, stuffed into other cuffs, just as solid, like I had my wrists and feet stuck in
concrete.
"What, what are you gonna do to me? Hawk?" I tried to look over that shoulder, but just pushed the
side of my snout against that oval hole. I didn't like this face hole thing, I fought under that
collar, trying to flick my head. It's a horse thing, flicking your head and ears and mane and stuff,
you don't think about it until you can't do it, and then you have to do it, and it's like an awful
itch. "Don't, don't I mean, don't try to.. don't try to.." I really wanted to say, don't shove your
arm in my asshole, I mean that's what those big rubber gloves are for, right? But I couldn't.
"Put your cock in that hole," he said, and his voice came out kind of funny, dark and husky, like it
was being put through some sort of device.
"What? Hole? I can't, you tied my hands down, I can't do anything!"
"PUT IT IN THE HOLE." Wherever his voice came out, it was next to my ear, along with his breath,
these big whuffs of air coming out the outlet of that mask. I couldn't see his head, I just, I felt
it there. Then he hit me. No, he kicked me. It hurt, his boots had treads, maybe they had fucking
hobnails, but it hurt. It was like someone with football cleats stomping on your ass. I brayed and
spit on the floor and tried to heave back, but that collar had me down. I bucked my hips around, I
started trying to fuck the padded top of that bench, since when I didn't move he kicked me again and
I heard all that crazy-shit gear creaking and squeaking and him snorting and huffing and growling
like a fucking dog in that mask.
There wasn't a hole! There was no god-damn hole, there was just the top of that bench, I couldn't
put it in the hole! I think I yelled all of that out, I think I was close to sobbing because it
really, really hurt getting my ass kicked like that, and then oh... the hole. I don't know what the
hole was, I didn't see it when he put me on the bench, but my cock sunk into it like some it was
some slippery asshole. I wanted to fuck it, but I couldn't, because he strapped something around my
lower back. I tried to tuck my head as far as I could, to see where my cock was going into, but all
I saw was some sort of black shiny thing with lines on it.
"I'm going to use you," Hawk said, if it was actually Hawk, if it wasn't some other wolf, if it
wasn't that dog from before, or maybe someone else, I couldn't tell behind all that crazy rubber
stuff, and I couldn't see him anyway. Sometimes the wolf would stomp around to the sides of me and I
could see him, sideways, mostly from the boots up, sometimes I'd see that creepy masked face. That
codpiece thing he had came off, and then I saw his dick, but it was covered in some kind of latex
thing, some black rubber sheath thing, and he tugged at it, pumped it, this weird wet slapping
coming from it.
Inside! I wasn't even expecting it, the restraint and that stupid head hole had me kind of unaware,
like I could hear everything but never knew what was going to happen until it did. He slid in easy,
he was _slick_, and I was kind of well-used at that point, but it was still startling. It always
kind of hurt a bit, until he moved around enough and then I started feeling ... good. I could feel
those big, gloved hands holding my shoulders, grabbing tight there, holding at that strap that kept
me pinned to the bench, all that gear squeaking and slapping against itself, that deep huff inside
that mask, a few snorts here and there, the valve things in it slapping as he breathed.
He was _fucking_ me, like a machine, like a jackhammer. Fucking me hard enough that I was going to
come, and I decided I would no matter what, I was going to get off. It took quite some head-work to
get there, I had to dredge up everything I could think of. Warm dicks in my mouth, come spurting out
as I gave someone a handjob, being fucked, then weirder shit. Licking the wolf's boots, him beating
my ass and dick until I came, then that night he raped me and came on my chest. That did it, I
brayed out and blew my load in that tight fake hole, then heaved and relaxed. I looked at the floor
as it sloped away, then at that black shiny thing that was under the bench. Oh, it wasn't black, it
was clear. It was one of those uh, graduated measuring thingies that you use in chemistry. I could
tell it wasn't black because something was in it now. My come. Holy shit.
"Okay, okay, what the hell is all this, I mean what are, what are you doing?"
"You're going to do that again," Hawk said, not answering me, still fucking. It'd been a good, I
don't know, fifteen minutes? That was a long time to fuck someone straight, and he didn't seem like
he was going to come yet. I could tell, the noises he made, the way he started shoving in deep, the
way he grabbed me. Those rubbery hands were all over me, but just... all over me, not clutching and
hitting me or anything like that.
"Well, I can't, I mean, I can't, and it's kinda hurting..."
"You're going to do that _again_," he repeated, and that N kind of turned into this weird rattling
growl. His cock slid out, and then his hands touched something, reached around to do something.
Something happened to my cock, and I don't know what it really was, I mean I think I know, but I
don't *know*. This weird tingle came through it, like I was having one of those funny twitchy muscle
things, but the feeling kind of went straight from my dickhead up into my spine, and I was twitching
all the way up there, into my head. I let out this weird nnnnhh sound and then the sensation
stopped. My mouth hung open and spit hung out. "I'll fix that."
Fix what? I heard him walk around the room, those heavy boots stomping back. I saw a black-gloved
hand come up and stuff something into my mouth. It was a bit, and he hooked it up to the underside
of that bench. It was rubbery, I kind of tasted something salty on it. Maybe I'd had it in my mouth
before? Maybe he came on it, pissed on it? I slobbered on it and grunted, and then That Feeling
again. Oh god, now I saw why the bit was in there, my teeth chewed against it, I wanted to buck and
kick my dick into that hole as, as, as I swear it was shocking me in there. Hawk started trying to
fuck me again, just pushing that rubberclad dickhead into me, and I could feel my asshole squeezing
and milking as those waves shot up my spine.
I don't know how long it took the second time, but it was longer than the first, and I wasn't
_trying_ to think about weird shit, I couldn't help it, it's all that was in my head. That
dick-shocking hole only worked sometimes, and I could tell when it turned on doubly because I felt
like my balls were trying to pump out through my cock, and because I must've been squeezing enough
to make Hawk grunt. His hard thrusts jostled my dick back and forth in that rubber tube, and soon my
tongue was trying to hang out over that mouth-stuffing bit. I think I drooled audibly, because a
rubber-gloved hand came to my face, collected a puddle of it in the palm, and then smeared it all
over my jaw. The other hand held my mohawk like a handle, twisted my head, rubbed my lips into that
spit-wet glove... I came. Oh god, it hurt, with that thing shocking me through it, I saw white
flashes of light, I must've brayed and screamed and shook, and he just kept fucking me right on
through it.
The pangs subsided into a dull ache, and I could hear everything too well. All that rubber creaking,
grunting and slobbering in the mask, this wet disgusting sound of sheathed dick spreading me open,
the wet disgusting sound of my dick fucking into that cock-electrifying tube. I could see that
fucking _resevoir_ and it was, and there was more in it. I was wearing out, my asshole was just not
really meant for that kind of treatment, and he just didn't stop. The only respite I got was when
he'd switch to hilting my, hips against ass, that dickhead punching that other hole way up deep, and
that just made me feel like I was some kind of fuck toy. Maybe I was one of those real doll things,
and he was gonna ship me back to the factory when I done broke after playing too hard.
It had to have been half an hour, and I started panicking, trying to look around, to see if anything
could tell me what time it was. No time. I was sore, I could feel every fucking millimeter his cock
moved, back and forth. My prostate was sore, so sore, so aching and sore, and that thing kept
zapping me, it was making my gut hunch, it made me want to cry. I stared at that fucking cylinder,
half expecting to see more white spunk splatter into it. No, no, it was fucking piss, I let go and
it came out in squirts as my muscles clenched up, then I forced them to relax again. Squiirrrt.
Squirrrt. I could hear it, I could fucking hear it, like someone squirting something into a glass.
Longer, longer, longer, I was staring at the floor, just staring. I didn't have a body any more, I
had a tortured dick and an asshole, maybe I was just some kind of weird hallucination of that wolf,
like maybe I was just that bench and he was fucking it and there was no pony, you know?
No, he started grunting, snarling, drooling enough that his huffs gurgled and splattered spit out
against my back. His cock surged in me, and he stopped moving, breathing deep and hard. Then he
pulled out and left the room.
I sat in the back of his car, watching the city lights go by. I had on all that gear he got me,
everything all at once, since it wouldn't fit in that backpack. I had a guitar - he let me take one
of his, like he didn't care at all - and clutched at the neck of it with a gloved hand. The car
pulled up to the curb in an unloading pull-in about half a block from a hotel. The wolf turned and
threw something at me. I caught it. Whoa, shit, five fucking hundred dollars! I let it rain on my
lap, then gathered up the bills.
"That'll cover a few nights. There's a club on Baker called 'The Pit'. Talk to the owner guy, Carl.
Tell him Hawk sent you. This isn't one of those stupid advertizements on TV, he'll fucking know I
sent you. He'll give you a job."
"Doing what?" I tucked the money away into a pocket.
"What the fuck do you think? Get out, go over to that hotel. Just say you're in a band or something,
fucking look like it."
"Okay."
"Now get out."
And that was that. One minute, I was asleep in his house, asshole aching from being _used_ for TWO
FUCKING HOURS. That's what he said, two hours. The next minute, I was standing on some street at ten
o'clock at night, wearing all my leather gear, carrying a fucking backpack and guitar, with five
hundred dollars in my pocket, watching his black car roar off.
They were going to bat an eye at the hotel counter, until I got out with that cash. Money makes
anyone forget their misgivings. I'd been used for... a year. A whole year. Five hundred dollars for
the poshest hotel I'd ever been in, and I was already forgetting it.
No, I wasn't forgetting it. I went to that club the next night, and the wolf was right. Carl had a
job for me. That kind of job. It paid a lot, a _lot_, and the rooms he kept upstairs were fucking
awesome. Some fucking lofts that he bought up when he got the place. There were five of them and I
swear it went from heaven to hell, down the hall. I got a fifty-fifty cut and any cash the guys gave
me. The louder I screamed when they hit me, the more cash. Usually. Or if I let them shoot on me. I
let them shoot on me.
I even got a real job, working at one of those guitar store places. I needed an excuse to play, and
hey, it was a store full of guitars. Plus, I got people to tip me. I'm such a slut.
I see that wolf at the club a lot, all the time really. And he never, ever, ever, ever says a damn
thing to me. I might as well be a spot on the floor. That's fine with me. Wolves creep the shit out
of me. I only do it if they pay me.