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Janie leaned against what could be called the breakfast bar of the tiny apartment kitchen. Her claws tapping on the cheap collins glass as her ears nervously twitched back and forth in erratic movements. George was always late. She usually didn't say anything about it. He was the bread winner. He paid the rent. Who was she to complain when he got off work at five, but never seemed to make it home until seven? Her shoulders tensed and her foot tapped. What right did she have to be suspicious? The swoosh and switch of Janie's tail movements became more frenetic and the strap of her shirt fell down without her taking note. He would never lie. Right?

The lock clicked and Janie's whole body prepared for the fight she had been practicing for in her head all day. George didn't even know what was coming. And having the upper hand felt good. He eased the door open and schlepped inside with his work shirt unbuttoned and his bag near dragging on the floor. But Janie had no pity left in her. She wasn't going to just stick her nose back in the collins glass and slink off to the bedroom and hide. Not again. The door slammed shut behind him. George was never careful with it.

"You're late again. Dinner has been ready for hours. Where have you been?" It was a good, bland start to a throw-down. Janie was proud of herself.

"I told you before that we are doing teardowns at work and I needed to stay late this week," George snuffled out, clearly unwilling to concede. The nerve. Janie's eyes narrowed and she let a slow breath slip out from her thinned lips. George brushed past her into the kitchen and started haphazardly plating up his cold dinner thinking that was the end of it. That was usually as far as they ever got.

"Who is he?"

"Who is who, dear?" George asked, standing stock still and staring at his plate.

"You know what I'm talking about, George. Don't play dumb. It insults us both."

"Look, I know I've been working late. I know that I haven't been home to enjoy your wonderful dinners and your company. What I don't know is why you would accuse me of fucking around on you." He glared at Janie, the love of his life, hoping that she would have the good sense to relent.

"Because you are!" Janie blurted out in a high, clipped tone. Her eyes went wide and she knew that all of the fights she had had in her head were of no use. She wanted to shove the words back in. Barring that though she put her paws on her hips and stood up straight with her head held high daring him to get mad at her for it.

"You are such an idiot!" His voice rose in a crescendo and the phrase was punctuated by the loud clatter of the dinner plate slamming against the floor. It spun slinging mush against the cabinet doors and spattering the entire kitchen in a cold mess. He stomped through it. Shoving Janie out of the entrance of the kitchen into the dining room just beyond it. "You sit at home all day dreaming up this nonsense, don't you!" George edged closer and grabbed her by the shoulders with meaty, calloused paws. "Who would I be fucking, Janie?! My manager?! The secretary I don't have?! Who?!" She tried to grapple with him. Slamming down hard on the inside of his elbows hoping to slacken his grip. He was just so much stronger than her.

"I-I-I don't... I don't..." Her breath caught and nothing was coming.

"Come on, babe. You don't know?" George said, his voice coming out harsh and guttural now. He let go of one of her shoulders and she lurched forward, but he caught her by the throat before she could fall too far. The momentum forced a choked cry out of her. He slid his paw up her neck, still holding on tight but forcing her head back. Tears pooled at the edges of Janie's eyes. She clawed at George's wrist leaving his shirt in tatters. She broke through his skin and little blooms of blood started to form on what was left of his sleeve. It was all to no avail. He didn't seem to feel anything.

"I am so god damned tired of this shit, Janie. You know that you accused me of the same thing last year? Do you even remember?" He squeezed a little tighter and her arms dropped limply to her sides. "Of course you don't." He sighed and let go and she collapsed to the floor. Janie thought momentarily that it was all over. Maybe he had seen reason. Maybe he was just tired. She didn't know and she didn't care. She scrambled across the floor, what was left of his dinner smearing her clothes, and hugged herself to his leg as the tears began to roll in earnest down the white fur of her cheeks.

George gently pet the top of her head. "I know, babe. It's so hard being so dense. Isn't it? It's so hard hearing only your own thoughts. Especially when they are so fucking stupid." Janie started to hyperventilate and her crying came out in hiccups. This wasn't what she had expected him to say. This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. "I work late, Janie. I work hard. For you. I'm not sneaking away to fuck some twink ten years younger than us both. Things are different now." George stopped his hand, cupping the base of her skull and seemed struck as by a sudden realization. "I know what this is all about."

He balled a thick clump of her fine, black hair in to his fist and held her still as he fumbled at the zipper of his navy blue slacks. Janie whimpered, but could bring herself to say nothing. "Have I been neglecting you, babe?" George pulled his pants down on his hips and slid his red boxers down far enough to guide his cock out while still keeping a hold on Janie. His dick laid semi-erect against the flannel of his boxers, couched in a white fuzz that trailed down from his stomach markings.

George took one large, auburn colored paw and grabbed a hold of Janie's muzzle, wedging his thick fingers in between her teeth and prying her mouth slowly open. She snapped down on them unexpectedly and he jerked back his hand and slapped her across the nose. That seemed to make her a little more docile. He went to work on her again. After having gotten her jaw open to what looked to be a big enough width he bent down close and looked intensely in to the vast sky blue of her eyes. "Don't make me get the Jennings gag. I don't want to waste time because you were too dumb to keep your mouth open for once." He was near fully erect as he forced Janie's wet, inviting muzzle on to his cock. Gripping her hair tighter, George let out a deeply satisfied groan. "Good girl."

Janie felt a familiar numbness wash over her as he worked his shaft in and out of her mouth. Every so often George would go so deep that her nose would press up hard against his stomach and she would sputter trying to take in air, which was a foolish endeavor at best. He held her there, as close as she could go. Her whole throat tried to desperately work and flex around the flesh that filled it. All the while George reveled in every little thing. He felt his heart and his arousal continue to rise at all the little sounds Janie managed to make despite his best efforts. He couldn't get enough of her war-torn expression. Her ears pinned back and her chin dripping spittle. Nothing was better, though, than the utter lack of Janie's resistance.

His paw still in her hair, George jerked her face away from him and pulled her to standing. He picked up a knife he had seen conveniently left on the dining room table and let the tip lightly rest against the bit of Janie's chest left exposed above the neckline of her shirt. An unsettling grin split George's face and he asked with all sincerity, "Are you ready?" Janie's expression was still slack, but her eyes glittered with promise. And she nodded as fervently as she could manage.

George let go of Janie's hair only to grab on to the front of her shirt. It was an old one. The thin fabric was loose and littered with clusters of holes. The remnants of food clinging to parts of it wasn't doing the shirt any favors, though that didn't matter much now. He pulled it away from her chest and stabbed the knife through the front, slashing down in a hard stroke. The knife tore all the way through to the hem. George switched his grip on the handle, so that he could grab the shirt with his other paw and tear the rest of it away. He shoved her until he faced her back and then pulled the tattered shirt off of her shoulders and down to her wrists where he used what was left of it to bind them. It wasn't easy, but he was well practiced. And with Janie still faced away he took up the knife and sliced through her underwear. George then wedged his shod feet in between her bare feet from behind and forced them to spread open until the mangled shreds of her panties fell to the floor like a white flag of surrender. He snatched up the pieces and stuffed them in to her mouth.

Turning her around again George stepped back to admire his handiwork. There wasn't a sweeter sight, in his humble opinion, than a naked Janie trussed up in the dining room. She stood for his appraisal shaking like an autumn leaf. Her long, silken hair which was usually impeccably groomed was a mass of knots. Her eyes were completely bloodshot making their naturally storm blue color look ethereal. Her dark, raven hued fur was damp and a little matted with sweat. And though the thought had occurred to her that she could work the panties out and spit them at his feet, they remained steadfastly clamped in her delicate jaws.

George reached behind him and set the knife down on the dining room table and casually unbuttoned his work shirt in a mockery of a strip tease. He had worn it especially for today. Janie liked how it framed his large shoulders and cut in at his slim hips. He slid the shirt off, baring the well defined muscles of his chest and arms and the soft, smooth length of his stomach. Taking all of the fabric in one paw he slowly reached out and stroked the side of Janie's muzzle with the other. Her breathing had slowed somewhat and she had calmed. She even began to nuzzle against his outstretched paw; mostly out of shock at the endearing and intimate gesture from what had up to this point been a source of nothing but pain and humiliation. George's heart melted a little at his beautiful wife, but only a little.

A tad abruptly, he grabbed on to her chin. His hand encircling her entire muzzle and keeping it firmly clamped shut. Janie dampened a panicked squirm as what air she could take in hissed through her nostrils. George pointedly wrapped the shirt around her muzzle. The entire thing was finished off with a little knot of cotton fabric on top and a preternaturally quiet Janie. "Just in case," he rasped, cutting through the silence of the room and grounding the moment.

Janie's head swam and her vision blurred at the edges. Her senses overwhelmed. George grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her towards the bedroom door. Her knees gave quickly, but he did not stop. The hard wood of the floor scraped on her bare shins all the way to the bed. The room was sparsely furnished and held little more than the luxurious king bed and a large dresser. The white walls and steel gray bedding that were normally a comfort to her seemed almost oppressive now in their simplicity.

George let Janie's limp body rest against the cool, soft sheets that hung over the edge of the bed while he went around and stripped it of comforter and pillows. They would have just been in the way. He hoisted Janie up with one arm around her waist and laid her face down with her lower half supported only by the balls of her feet. Her legs and ass taut with the strain. George slid a paw up between her thighs and cupped her labia. The flesh was supple and warm against his palm. He then languidly ran a finger along her slit opening her like the petals of blooming flower. She was wet with wanting. Small droplets ran in thin trails down his venturing finger and on to his open palm.

In that moment his mind became clouded. This was the time to berate her. Call her a whore or bitch. The words hitched in his mouth. He was so entranced by her heat and her smell. "Slut," he managed. "Whore," a little louder. George gained momentum. "Are you always this soaking wet? Always ready for the next cock to fill you." Of course Janie couldn't answer. Her eyes only half open as a pleading groan escaped from the depths of her throat. "Fucktoy cunt, I'll make use of you."

His previously probing finger was joined by another and he slipped them both inside of her. He pumped them back and forth, building speed. The muscles inside her tensed around his fingers. Gripping on to them with a force. He worked them harder. Slamming in and out with vigor. He slowed enough to guide a third finger inside of her sopping cunt. George loved stretching her open and making her feel full. He went back to his pounding rhythm until he could feel her getting closer and closer to orgasm. Then he stopped.

He pulled his paw away until the tips of his claws just brushed against her. Janie struggled to keep upright while trying to stretch closer to him. A desperate whine coming through the fabric of the gag. He swiftly pulled his paw away and startled Janie with a sharp slap to her vulva. "Greedy, greedy cunt." He did it again and again. The pain making her edge on to her toes in an attempt to get away, but she could gain no purchase on the sliding sheets. He stopped momentarily to spread her open and then started up again against the more delicate tissues. Janie's pussy ached with every concussive slap and they drove her inexorably towards cumming. On George's final strike he kept his paw in place and pressed his fingers hard against Janie's clit. She bucked against him. Neither she nor George were exactly clear on whether she was trying to press closer or squirm away. Though it hardly mattered a second later when Janie came, screaming in to the gag.

Her legs quivered dangerously and she would have lost her balance had George not put a large, firm paw in the small of her back to hold her in place. Waves of sensation pulsed out through her lower body as Janie was wracked with their intensity. For the first time that day tears welled up in her eyes as she made muffled whimpers that only the sheets could hear. George, never one for waiting, knelt down at the end of the bed between her poor, overexerted feet and nuzzled against the inside of her thigh. He let his cheek rest there while his nose pressed against her pussy. Her scent filled his nostrils. It always reminded him of gardens. Not because she smelled literally like plants, but because it struck him as something natural, inviting, and dirty.

He let his tongue lap leisurely over her oversensitive clit and the soft, moist flesh of her sex. Janie's leg jerked up almost knocking in to him. He kept his tongue at its single-minded task while he grabbed on to her legs and held them against the side of the bed. His claws dug in to the yielding meat of her thighs and Janie jerked harder against them. It was to no avail though as he went on devouring her slowly and relentlessly. Janie's elbows bowed as she wrenched against the shirt fabric still tightly wound around her wrists. Her breathing stopped for long intervals as she could feel another wave of bliss coming to drown her. George's claws bit into her further and he dragged them down the backs of her thighs as she came. Her juices dousing his snout while his mouth still worked away at her. George slowed and then stopped, letting out a deeply satisfied sigh. Janie resumed breathing. Taking advantage of the lull in activity to slow her heart and fill her lungs.

George stood. He pressed his hands into the round abundance of her ass, kneading and massaging it. His paws worked up to her lower back and he ground his hips up against what was surely now a sore and abused cunt. Janie felt the tips of his claws again, though this time they only scratched lightly against the surface of her back making furrows in her pelt. He leaned away from her body only to pull down the pants that he had absentmindedly put back in place. He had been hard for some time, so his cock fell out of the top of his dropping boxers like a felled log. Completely free of its previous confines, it committed itself to the valley between Janie's ass cheeks. George pumped his hips reveling in the feel of her soft fur tickling at his balls and enveloping his shaft. He could feel the pressure slowly building and quickly ushered his cock to Janie's eager opening.

The silky texture of her pussy enthralled him as he pressed inside her. He started to rock his hips with hers. Never leaving her and relying more on pressure than friction. Soon, though, that was not enough and he started to piston in and out of her with abandon. The repetitive nature of the movement insignificant because every time the sensation was deliciously different. Janie yelped when he grabbed on to wrist bindings to steady his balance and allow for more force.

It was then that her legs turned to water. George used his free paw to grab each leg in turn and shove her knees up on to the bed. Her face being ground in to the mattress in the process. He then seized the knot of her hair with that same paw and her head bent back exposing her neck. In that moment instinct told him to bite it. He wanted to take the corded muscle and tubes running through it into his mouth. The thought passed as quickly as it had come. Janie made some broken and perfunctory moans. He didn't care. George was cocooned in his own little world of fevered passion, completely enraptured in the moment. He felt the pulsing in his pelvis build to a frenetic pounding. And suddenly he jerked and was floating in the euphoric oblivion of orgasm. He felt exalted. The waves of bliss poured over him and the feeling seemed to last on in to forever.

But eventually it ebbed, leaving him panting with exertion. A bead of sweat meandering it's way down the side of his face. In a trance-like state he unwound the cloth from around Janie's wrists and she brought them in front of her, flexing feeling back in to her fingers and rubbing her arms. He eased her on to her back and delicately pulled her legs straight. Working them back and forth to stretch the bunched and jumping muscles underneath. Finally he reached forward and unbound the shirt from around her muzzle. He took the entire wadded, wet mess of work shirt and panties and threw them across the room. That was future George's problem. He pulled Janie close to him and gently pet the mess of her hair being careful to not catch the knots in his claws.

She sobbed once or twice and took a few deep breaths before venturing to smile. Her arms wrapped partially around the bulk of her husband's shoulders. Her entire lower half was a throbbing mess that felt like static more than pins and needles. Her head was pounding and it felt like George had her heart balled in his large fist. Janie choked on the first words she was able to utter in hours. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I didn't get everything right."

"That's okay. It was just as fun as if you had."

"I didn't know hard it would be to come up with insults on the fly like that."

"Shhh, I said it was okay." Janie hesitated, still a little rattled. "Could you get me some water? My throat feels like it's covered in dust."

"Sure. Sure." George was stopped short on his way out of the room when she grabbed his arm. Janie looked like a wreck, a smiling, angelic wreck. "What is it, Sweetie?"

"Happy anniversary, Baby."