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Love hurts

Tongue Lashed

By Dikran O.

The sequel to "Tongue Tied": https://www.sofurry.com/view/504689

In a basement den, lit only by a single lamp in the far corner, a young male red fox and a female poodle danced slowly in each others' arms. They were dancing to the tune Shades of Gray by the Monkees, the sixth song on the 'A' side of Headquarters, their third album. The young male liked that tune, not only because it gave him the opportunity to press the comfortably curved body of Stephanie Caniche up against him, but also because of the link with his first name, which was Gray. He liked the name Gray, despite the all too accurate description of the premature lightening of his facial fur when coupled with his family name, Muzzle. But, in Gray's moodier adolescent moments, he liked to think that there were many levels and nuances to his character, shades if you will.

He recalled the first lines of the song: "When the world and I were young, just yesterday. Life was such a simple game, a child could play."

It might not have been just yesterday, but life had certainly changed for him over the last year. The simple game he had been playing back them was called "beat up on the loner", with him in the starring role. Things had improved considerably. A year ago he had been a High School Junior hiding out backstage after an embarrassing audition for the part of Jim in the class production of Rebel Without A Cause and today he was dancing with the sexiest Senior there was in the basement den of the town's richest lawyer, her father. He had, in fact, been doing the nasty with her in various forms ever since that night backstage and although he had never talked about it to the other guys, they had somehow sensed it. They now treated him with silent respect and actually tried to make friends with him, but with all the sex Gray was getting he no longer cared about fitting in. At the end of his Senior year he would blow this joint without any regrets, except, that is, for leaving Stephanie behind ... along with her dad's cars. They owned two cars, BOTH convertibles - a newish Corvette and a sixty-three Nova with a V8, the SS of course. Half the attraction in going out with Stephanie was getting to drive those beauties to wherever they were going to make out.

Gray had plans to get a law degree, and you could not do that in small-town Connecticut. But maybe he could come back and get a job in her dad's firm. Then maybe he and Stephanie could shack up, as he heard that many of the city kids were doing now that it was the seventies. But then again, maybe not. Her father was a stern, handsome black poodle that reminded him of Major Nelson from the television series I Dream of Genie and who seemed to have some sort of military background, in intelligence perhaps. He would probably insist that they get married for the sake of the firm's reputation.

Stephanie snuggled closer and Gray squeezed the cheeks of her ass with his paws as he lost himself in the possibilities.

They lived down the hill from Gray's house, in a better neighborhood. The Caniches were not from around here. Mister Caniche had spent a lot of time traveling, presumably with the military, and Stephanie had been born in Texas, where she spent the first ten years of her life. The southern skies had given her a permanent tan and one of those insolent smiles that only southern females seem to be able to pull off. Her body had curves that rivaled the local stock car track. Her fur was white, except for some black that she had inherited from her father; freckles around her snout, a mop of black fur on her head and ears and, as Gray discovered, a small dark triangle of fur just above her sex.

She was hardly ever seen in town at first. When her father set up his law office eight years ago she had initially been sent to a series of private schools, but her wild side had gotten her kicked out of so many that eventually she had to be put in the local High School, Gray's school. When she first appeared in public in her little red bikini with the yellow roses on that hot August day half of the male population had spontaneously ejaculated in their swimming trunks, including Gray. She was gorgeous, but when she opened her mouth to speak to the beach-side Romeos that had surrounded her, another aspect of her became obvious. She suffered from macroglossia, also known as long tongue. Her oral appendage was as long and thick as a baby's arm, and just as agile. Not only did it look rather gross, the size of it made the letters R, L and S almost impossible to pronounce. Listening to Stephanie was like listening to a drunken Swede.

But Gray did not care about her disfigurement. It was hard at first, not wincing when she casually licked her eyebrows or explored her inner ear with it, and understanding her had been difficult. But with her prehensile tongue she was the mistress of the French kiss and the Empress of oral sex. Plus, she loved to bump uglies more than anyone he could imagine. They made out in the fields, in the woods, backstage at the school auditorium where they first met, and sometimes here in her dad's den, but never at his house. Gray's parents did not approve of him dating, so he had to make up excuses for being away. Fortunately his marks at school were so good his parents never suspected that he was doing anything other than studying.

They had both changed a lot in the year since they started seeing each other. She had learned to control her tongue better, and he had learned to translate her peculiar form of English more accurately. Gray had grown two inches and filled out. Stephanie had let her black hair grow to shoulder length and her curves had taken on a more adult aspect, but the sight of her in that red bikini could still make his heart stop.

"Fwip the wecowahd, Gway."

While he had been reminiscing the song had ended and they had slow danced through the next one, a jaunty little number called I Can't Get Her Off of My Mind, without noticing the change in tempo. The first side of the record had come to an end.

"Okay, Steph." Gray broke away from her and walked over to the stereo, a little stiff legged because his cock had gone erect inside the leg of his slacks. He massaged it absentmindedly as he carefully lifted the record and set it back down with the 'B' side up. Stephanie took good care of her records and putting a scratch in one of her favorites could earn him a slap to the ear. In fact, he reflected as he set the needle in the grooves, almost anything could earn him a slap or a poke or a painful pinch lately.

When he turned back he was happy to see that she had retreated to the couch. That meant that dancing was over and that the making out was about to commence. He crossed the room quickly and slid down beside her, putting one arm around her shoulders and placing his paw high on her thigh. He leaned in to kiss her neck, she loved that. She kept her fur shaved down to just a trace of fuzz on most of her body and her tanned skin was sensitive to his kisses. As he sucked and massaged a spot near the junction of her shoulder with his lips she raised a paw to the back of his head and rubbed his thigh with the other. By the time Gray came up for air she was panting and anxious to swap spit. Gray raised his head a bit and opened his mouth obediently.

The initial contact with the pseudopod that passed for her tongue was always a little weird, but within seconds it had taken up a comfortable position inside his mouth, a warm throbbing mass that probed his throat, tickled his palette and gently wrestled with his tongue. It was good that it was gentle, because it could surely rip his out by the roots if it got too rough, and almost had on a couple of occasions. Fortunately Stephanie's improved control extended to her love making, although he tended to avoid French kissing her during orgasms, just in case. At the moment she was using it to send pleasurable sensations trough his oral cavity, and he wondered if they were the same as the ones she felt when she was going down on him and, if so, did that make him gay?

His lower paw squeezed her thigh rhythmically, creeping up under her skirt a bit more each time. Her paw had found the bulge of his cock inside his slacks and she was concentrating her efforts there. She knew how much pressure to apply to bring it to full hardness without going too far and Gray's endurance had improved vastly over the past year also. They could go on like this until the end of side B, but he could sense nervous energy in her, similar to just before that first encounter in her father's Nova. She wanted to move on, and Gray had no objections to that. What would it be today? He wondered. Some 69 on the couch followed by a good boffing on the rug, or maybe some sitting anal sex and cunnilingus while he recovered enough for one of her famous blow-jobs? He wondered how long they had, but did not worry about it. Stephanie had never let them get anywhere close to being caught.

By now his paw was right up under her skirt and rubbing against the mound of her sex. He could feel that it was already wet through the thin silk panties. Soon there was enough moisture down there for him to smell it. The scent made his cock jerk inside his tight trousers, and she pinched it hard, to settle it down.

"Ouch!" He complained, breaking off the kiss. "You know, Steph, just leaving it alone for a minute will have the same effect."

"I jutht want to make thuwe that he howdth off untiw I'm weady fowah him." She breathed in his ear. "I have pwans fowah him, and you."

He was intrigued. "Oh, really? Like the time you brought out the ice and your dad's A535 rub?" He could still remember the alternating sensations of heat and cold on his cock and balls.

"Thomthing even bettah. Want to thee?" Gray nodded his head vigorously. "Okay, but get undwethed. I be wight back."

She disengaged from him and stood up. Facing him, her crotch at muzzle level to him, exposed because he had worked her skirt up over her hips during their session on the couch. She had worn the panties that matched her bikini, the red ones with the little yellow Texas roses. The moisture made it stick to her mons like a second skin, clearly outlining the outer lips and even the edges of the inner ones, which had started to protrude. She must really be excited, he thought. The sight and the smell were doing nothing to ease the ache in his loins either.

She pinched his snout, playfully if a little painfully, and turned to stride out of the room. As soon as she was gone Gray regained his composure by taking a deep breath and then he began to disrobe. He folded his clothes as he removed them and placed them neatly on a chair that they probably would not use, maybe. It was hard to tell with Stephanie, she tended to wander during sex and you never knew where you were going to end up. When he was done he sat down on the couch and twiddled his paws while his erection dropped lower and lower.

"Gway? What do you think?" He had not heard her coming back down the stairs. He looked up and saw her standing there at their foot, illuminated by the ceiling lamp directly above her. She stood with one paw on her cocked hip, the opposite leg tucked up behind her The lamp cast enticing shadows down beneath her breasts and ass, but that was not the most erotic thing about her, it was what she was wearing that he found fascinating. He forced his eyes to start and the top and slowly take it all in.

Her dark hair was piled up on her head, held in place by a couple of polished wooden sticks. Her shoulders were bare, as were her breasts, but below that she wore a corset of bright red silk, decorated with tiny yellow flowers. The corset made her breasts jut out, not that they needed any help in that department, and the half cups ended a good inch below the pink nipples. Her arms were covered from wrist to bicep by red leather sleeves that were laced tight by golden cords. Farther down, around her waist, she wore a yellow garter belt that held up a pair of red silk stockings; there were no panties between the two, just the pink glow of her shaven crotch and the triangle of black fur that pointed to the entrance to heaven. The stocking were sheer, and tight enough to emphasize her shapely legs. They ended in shoes with stiletto heels long enough to qualify as weapons. She lowered her bent leg and slowly pirouetted around for him.

"You wike?" She asked after letting him her for a full minute.

"Like?" He mused. His cock had sprung back up while he had been silently examining her. "I love it!"

Gray had fantasized about such costume play, but he had been afraid to bring it up with her. He suspected that he may be regarded as a pervert for wanting her to dress up. But she must have read his mind. The revealing outfit was exactly the kind of thing that he had in mind those many night spend pawing off in his lonely room before he met Stephanie. Then he noticed that there was a bundle on the stairs near her feet, something for him to wear perhaps?

She bent at the waist to pick up the bundle, giving him an excellent view of her tail hole and twat. Then she straightened up and sashayed across the room to stand in front of him. She held out the bundle.

"I bwought a widdow thomthing fowah you too."

Gray was speechless. He jumped up and took the package from her paws. Perhaps it was a superhero costume, one of the comic book stars like SuperWolf or BatFox, or that newcomer from the rival publishers, SpiderCat. She would be the damsel in distress and he would rescue her and then ... without looking he pulled it on. There was a hole for his tail and a zipper up the back. It was tight, and a rubbery. Maybe he was supposed to be Reed Richards?

He glanced at himself in the mirror behind the mini bar. There was no logo on the chest, just a broad expanse of black. No number four, no bat silhouette, no skull. He felt a breeze from the central air conditioning and look down. There was no crotch either. His balls hung down while his cock stood up, bobbing freely. He turned and noted that the suit had several chrome rings sewn into it. What the hell?

Before he could ask Stephanie what was up she moved over to far wall and stood with her paw on what looked like a rheostat for dimming the lights. "I have one mowe thupwithe fowah you." She said as she rotated the knob on the device.

A Surprise? Double doors whose seams had been disguised by the wood paneling opened out into the den, revealing a second room. It was about twelve feet wide and the same deep. In the dim interior Gray could just make out some kind of framework in the center and a few dark objects hanging from pegs on the walls. He moved closer. The framework was made from black tubular steel. There were ropes and chains and pulleys with wires attached to them at several points. Lower down, on the support beams, there were saddles and benches and bars with places to put your paws. Gray smiled. He knew what this was.

"Hey, your dad has one of those new Nautilus machines!" He exclaimed. He had read about them in a Joe Weider bodybuilding magazine he had purchased a couple of years ago in an effort to be less geeky. He looked around for a light switch so he could examine the equipment more closely. Maybe Stephanie wanted him to pump a little iron while she pumped little Gray. That could work, he thought, although the superhero scenario was more appealing to him. "This must be your folk's exercise room."

"You might thay that." She commented as she pushed him gently over to the framework. "It'th whewe they wowk out theiw tenthionth."

Did she say they work on their tendons? He wondered as she turned him around. He heard the metallic click of clips being hooked onto the rings attached to the back of the suit. He reached around to feel what she had put on him. He was still hopeful for bat wings.

"Bwing youah paws behind youah back." She instructed. "That'th wight, jutht wike that." There was a double click as something cold and hard encircled his wrists. He tried to bring them back forward but they were held fast.

"Hey! Steph, what's going on?"

"I'm going to waise you to new heightth of awaweneth." She replied, stepping back from him and putting her paws on a large wheel attached to a toothy gear. Suddenly she threw her weight onto the wheel and spun it rapidly. The gear engaged others and a chain rattled in its pulley above Gray's head. He felt the suit tighten as whatever she had attached to its back pulled on it and a moment later he felt his feet leave the floor. By the time she stopped turning the wheel he was dangling three feet above the linoleum, face down and parallel to the floor. His cock and balls, slack now with all amorous thoughts driven from his mind, dangled down below him. She did something to his ankles and he found that he could no longer stretch out his legs.

"Ste-Steph!" he called out nervously.

She ignored him, turning instead to the wall and flicking on a hidden light switch. Harsh lights lit up the alcove. Gray could see now that the objects hung up on the walls were not tension cords or flex bars, but whips and flails and dildos of all descriptions. Stephanie took down a leather strap that ran through a red rubber ball that looked well chewed and turned back to him. He tried to cry out but his throat constricted and a low whine was all that escaped as his jaws opened and closed ineffectively.

"The bathement is thound-pwoofed, but betht not to take any chanceth." Steph said as she stuffed the ball into his mouth and buckled the strap behind his flailing head. "Don't move tho much, Gway. I don't want to huwt you .... yet."

Gray felt fear creeping over him. He had read about this sort of thing a couple of years ago in the adult section of the library, when none of the librarians that knew his mother were on duty. There they kept the medical texts and psychological tomes that were considered too racy for young folk to read, but his premature grayness made him look much older than his sixteen years and no one questioned his presence. At first he was only interested in the diagrams of the female anatomy, which looked like they had been pawed over thoroughly, but later his natural curiosity took over and he started to read the articles. One dealt with whether practicing BDSM was a psychosis or not. Having only heard vague references to the term Gray read the whole article and sought out the references it contained.

It was fascinating reading. The initials stood for Bondage, Disciple, and Sado-Machoschism and there were three distinct sub-groups that more or less took their names from the same group of initials.

The first was Bondage and Discipline, or B&D, which usually involved either physical or psychological restraint, formalized service or punishment, and sometimes sexual role playing, such as costumes. The active partner could derive visual pleasure from seeing their partner tied up, and the restrained partner could derive tactile pleasure from the feeling of helplessness and immobility. The concept had intrigued the young fox, and he had managed to find a copy of Pauline Réage's The Story of O in a seedy little book shop in Boston when he traveled with the chess team to the regional championships. Like many adolescent males the thought of having a nubile young female as a sex slave excited him, but when he had wet dreams on the subject he was just as likely to be the one bound and on his knees, at the mercy of a fierce warrior Queen and her horde of Amazons.

The second sub-category was Domination and submission, often abbreviated D/s, with the letter "D" written as a capital but the "s" always in small case. It involved one individual giving control of themselves over to another individual during an erotic episode. The thought of this excited Gray also. God knows that he suffered enough humiliation at the paws of the bullies as he grew up, but there had been no sexual connotation in that. The thought of being rewarded with passionate sex after being made to submit to small humiliations was not abhorrent to him, in fact, he reflected, it was already part of their relationship. Stephanie tended to treat him like crap in public and liked to order him around. She was quite bossy actually. "Gway, get the dwinkth" "Gway, make me a thandwich" "Gway, comb my fuwah". But the sex afterwards was always good, and he felt that she really had feelings for him, and that made up for the rest.

Sado-masochism, or SM, was the third category, and that was the one that scared Gray the most. It was the giving or receiving of pleasure from acts of pain or humiliation. Reading about it frightened Gray because he found the illustrations highly erotic and he was afraid that might mean that he was a sadist. However he had never had the urge to hurt anyone. Even when Stephanie had asked him to spank her ass a couple of times he had done it only half-heartedly, so he supposed that he was okay. But what about Stephanie? Could inflicting pain be one of her turn-ons?

He had to admit that the thought of being tied up and blindfolded while someone teased and toyed with his body was kind of exciting, providing that they did not go too far. And that was the hallmark of all three forms of BDSM play. It was done by mutual consent. There were supposed to be safe words and limits negotiated before beginning. Stephanie was obviously new at this. She may have only observed parts of her parents BDSM play without understanding it. And what made Gray really afraid was the fact that he was helpless in the paws of a rank amateur.

"Mmmf-an-iee." He manage to force a few syllables past the rubber gag. "Thtop thas!" Great, he thought, now I talk like her.

Stephanie snatched a riding crop from a peg and smacked him across the ass with it "No tawking!" She demanded. The stinging blow made Gray cry out around the red rubber ball and his wince made him swing drunkenly from the chains that suspended him. "And don't caw me Thephanie. Caw me..." she paused and looked to the ceiling, then a smile came to her face. "Caw me Miththrth"

"Myth-th-teri-wous?"

CRACK

"Mith-tress! Mith-tress!"

"That'th bettah. Now, beg me to huwt you."

"Awe you nuths?"

CRACK

When he stopped screaming Stephanie lifted his muzzle so he could look her in the eyes. "I don't think that you wealize how thith wowkth." She said seriously as his eyes watered and he drooled into her paw from the pain in his butt. "But you wearn, and when you do," she raised one breast to her mouth and licked the erect nipple with her serpentine tongue, "you get a weward." Gray sniveled around the gag. She took that for assent and let his head drop. "Now, whewe do they keep the twasnfowmer?"

Visions of model train sets and slot car racers came to Gray. What other uses were there for a transformer, he thought. Not being able to think of any, other than the one Mister Smith used in Biology class to show how the muscles of dissected amphibians could still jump when a charge was ... Oh - My - God - No!

a low hum filled the Caniches' little torture chamber and the scent of ozone came to his snout. A second later he jerked as something sharp bit into his left testicle, followed by an equally painful pinch to the right one.

"No numbaws on the dial." She muttered to herself somewhere behind him. "Wet'th jutht put it up to the wed and thee how that wowkth."

"Mmmoooo! Mmmoooo! Mmot da wed!"

"Oh, be quiet, thithy. Hewe we go"

"Yarrrgghhhh!"

Two more long, lingering shocks followed the first.

"Oh, wook. You awe ewect again. I knew you'd wike it!"

Three more shocks came in quick succession. By now Grays convulsions had set him spinning around in slow circles. As he rotated past her he saw that she was polishing a bullet-shaped chrome tube, spreading petroleum jelly over it. The tube was connected to the transformer by a curly cable, like a telephone cord.

"Now thith thould be a wot of fun." She said as she grabbed the strap of the gag and turned him to face the other way. Gray suddenly remembered the hole in the bottom of the suit which his cock, balls and tail were protruding through. He struggled as hard as he could, but to no avail.

"In we go." She said and he gasped at the sensation of having his tailhole split in two. "And now maximum powew."

"Mmot mmmaximus pow-" was all he managed to get out before a bolt of lightning shot up his anus and out his balls. When it did his testicles contracted and a boiling load of electrically charged sperm shot up through the tubes to mingle with seminal fluid, which took up the charge and carried the current along the length of his stiff cock before spurting out into the open air. Gray could swear that there were sparks in the drops that splattered on the linoleum below him. The transformer continued to hum and his balls continued to pump until they were empty and aching. Finally, Stephanie turned off the juice.

"Huhm. Tho, it'th twue what they thay. Good to know fowah next time. But Gway, you did not thave any fowah me!" She chided as she examined the pool of spooge on the floor. "I may have to punith you fowah that."

He had rotated around to face her again. "Punith ME?" He screamed around the ball in his maw. "Wha da phuck do you thing tha you been doing to me? Tickwing me?"

Stephanie's face screwed up, her eyes squeezed shut and she clenched her paws as she started to cry. "Oh, Gway. I onwy did thith fowah uth. I jutht wanted to bwing thom thpithe to ouw sex wife."

Spice to our sex life, he thought incredulously. As if they had time to get bored. There were at least twenty positions that he had heard about that they had yet to try. But then he looked at her shaking with grief and remembered all those tender moments in glade and glen. He remembered the little kisses afterwards in the Corvette and the Nova. He remembered her clutching him tightly after coming on the couch in the other room. But mostly he remembered that she was the only one that could get him down from this contraption and out of this suit before he sweated to death.

"I'm thowy, Thteph." He said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "Mmow, could you wet me down?"

"Wet you down?" She asked, glancing at a coiled hose in the corner of the alcove.

"Mmoo, mmoo. Wowew me. Wewease me. Get me down!"

"No pwobwem, Gway. You jutht had to athk."

Stephanie slapped a paw against a latch and the chain rattled through the open gear, dropping Gray to the floor on his face. He struggled up on his knees as she strolled out of the alcove and sat down on the couch that faced the opening. Gray tried to stand but found that the suit would not allow him to, the s were somehow attached to the cuffs that still circled his wrists. Looking at Stephanie he noticed that she was dangling a key on one digit. Whining in frustration he began to inch his way across the floor on his knees in a waddle. As he neared she spread her legs and shifted her rump on the couch so that he had to work his way up between them as he approached. The familiar scent of excited poodle rose from her twat. He tried to ignore it as he looked up, shifting his eyes between hers and the key imploringly.

She looked at the key and them back at him with a sly smile. "I don't know, Gway. Ith you gonna be a good fockthie?"

"Theph, if you doon let me outh of dis thupid thuit thith minute ..."

"I can't undewthand you a bit when you tawk wike that." She commented. "Bethideth, you awe going to need your tongue fowah thith netht bit." Then she lessened the buckle and pulled the gag off of his face. She tried to press his muzzle down to her crotch but he resisted.

"Stephanie Maria Caniche, get me out of this suit before I .... I ...."

Gray did not falter because he could not think of something to say, or because she reacted angrily, that he could have handled. But instead of interrupting him or crying again she merely smiled and held up her other paw. In it she held a small black plastic box with a single red button on it. A wire ran from its base. Gray's eyes traced the wire as it went over the back of the couch, reappeared by the far corner and ran back into the alcove, right up to the transformer. Another set of wires, curly ones, like a telephone cord, ran from the transformer out of the room and over to the couch, disappearing under Gray's tail where, he suddenly remembered, the chrome torpedo was still firmly nestled in his ...

"NOOOOO!"

A thumb came down. Gray's tail come up, as did his cock. His balls felt like that were turning inside out and being sucked up into pelvis, but nothing came out. The thumb lifted and Gray collapsed, his muzzle coming to rest on the edge of the couch right in front of her moist twat.

"Tho, awe you going to be a good fockthie?"

Gray stuck out his tongue and gave the shaven slit a tentative lick.

"Put thome effowt in it, Bub." She brandished the black box threateningly.

Gray lapped at her sodden sex like it was an ice cream cone on a ninety-degree Fourth of July. She sat back and sighed with contentment, throwing the arm holding the remote control for the transformer over the back of the couch.

"That'th the way, Gway." She wiggled her hips, pressing herself into his face so that he had to gulp to breathe. "Wick that puthie. Wick it good."

Gray licked as if his life depended on it; for all he knew, it did. I might have one of those heart conditions that don't show up until you are under great stress, he thought. Just this year a cheetah at the rival High School had dropped dead in the middle of the autumn track meet. Because of things like that Gray avoided most kinds of physical exertion, except for sex with Stephanie that was. He was afraid that the next shock would be his last.

He worked around her cunt quickly, but not haphazardly. He had learned a lot about what she liked over the last year and he knew that the area between the two sets of lips was particularly sensitive for her in the early stages. He used the sharp tip of his tongue to separate the two folds of flesh and tickle the line where they joined until they had swollen too much for him to continue. At that point he pressed his mouth down to cover the entire mons and probed deep inside, teasing the tissues there and spreading the juices that had begun to flow freely around for the next step. Every few licks he flicked his tongue up to her clit to test it. It was growing harder and more pronounced as he proceeded.

When her twat was too slippery and squashy to do much with it any more he concentrated on her clit. Normally he would have his paws up to help him spread those lips, with a digit or two rubbing inside or on her clit. Using his digits gave his tongue a well needed break, but today he had to do it all with his mouth alone. With the electric anal intruder to motive him he found the strength to keep the pace up, relentlessly licking, lapping and sucking at her sensitive swollen clit.

A wet spot had formed on the couch below his chin by the time her hips began to rock and roll against him. He redoubled his efforts, ignoring the ache that had settled into the base of his tongue. He held it out and moved his whole head to draw its rough surface over the bald pink button of flesh. She encouraged him by putting her free paw on his head between his ears and pressing it in time with his ministrations.

She was talking again. "Oh, Gway. Do it, Gway. Yeth, wight thewe. That'th the thpot. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeth. Oh, God, I'm coming! Maman!"

Gray never could understand why Steph called for her mother when she came, but he knew better than to stop at this point. Sealing his lips on her he sucked her clit deep into his mouth and whipped his tongue back and forth across it frantically as hot poodle passion squirted out of her, soaking his neck and chin. He held on as her hips bucked wildly, almost throwing him off, and rode that clit as it fought to retreat between the folds of tenderized twat. Eventually it escaped, but his tongue followed it down, drawing gasps and cries of half pain, half delight from the spent bitch.

He lapped at her until she laughed and pushed his head away. "Thop, oah I'ww pweth the button again." She warned, but she brought her paw back from behind the couch empty and used it to caress his ears. Exhausted, he laid his head on her thigh and submitted to the petting. He was quite comfortable now, having gotten used to the wearing the suit and the feel of the electrode inside him. They lay like that for ten minutes before she spoke.

"Gway, we got to cwean up. My parentth awe due back thoon."

"Mmmhh." He mumbled. Wiggling to indicate that he could not help much while confined to the rubber sex suit. She found the key where it had dropped beside the couch and bent to release his paws and ankles. He had to rub them for a while before he could move enough to reach back and ease the chrome tube out of his ass. "Ahh-ah-ah." He cried softly as he inched it out.

She looked down on him with real concern. "You okay, Gway? Not jutht your pawth, but with all thith?" She swept a paw around the room.

Gray did not answer. He found the zipper on the back of the suit and pulled it down. It was filled with sweat and he had to peel it off.

"Gway." Stephanie took his head between her paws and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Will we see each other again, Gway? Tuesday, here, in the den?"

He held her gaze for almost a minute before answering.

"Sure." He said. "Tuesday. But, Steph ..."

"Yeth?"

"We need to have a little chat about limits and safety first, okay?"

She smiled knowingly. "Thuwe, thweetie. Now wet'th get a move on."

* * * * * * * *

They did meet again the following Tuesday, but it for the last time. Her father's Nova broke down halfway to his office and he decided to walk back to call a tow truck from home. He caught them on the couch. They were far from being engaged in the main event but the loose clothing and smelly paws were enough evidence for him. He forbade Gray from ever seeing his daughter again, despite her tears and pleas to the contrary.

Perhaps they would have gone on seeing each other, sneaking around behind her parents' backs, but Mister Caniche began researching military academies that took females in preparation for college and Stephanie disappeared soon after that. As she was eighteen, and because her father had gotten some of the worse criminals in town off, the police didn't look all that hard for her. Gray never did see her again, but he heard that she took up with a British comic book artist named Ron Embelton.

A year later, in his dorm at a southern university, he was idly thumbing through his roommate's Poodle Penthouse magazine. When he got to the comic feature in the back he smiled. The main character was a statuesque white poodle with long black hair and ears, and a small dark triangle of fur in the pubic region.

"Wicked Wanda indeed." He chuckled. Then he tossed the magazine back on his roommate's bed and lay back to savor much more pleasurable images that the illustration had brought to mind.

The End

Grey Muzzle © Grey Muzzle

"Shades of Gray" © Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil