Copyright (c) 1992 Ashtoreth(William Haas); all rights reserved ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A Dog And Her Bone a Smutty Furry Porn Story by William Ellsworth Haas the Second Sondra Sachs-Cromwell sat at the mouth of the passage which led to the fox's burrow, the fox which had led her and the other dogs a merry chase during the annual Hutchinson Club fox hunt. Not that the other dogs had made it this far. The fox had lost them. Sondra sighed to herself, and stretched, thinking of what fools this underling of a fox had made her closest acquaintances; which was not terribly surprising when she thought about it. The loosely-related aristocratic clan of canines with which she shared the estate were, in general, not very bright. One must put up with these little annoyances, when one is in such a station in life, Sondra thought. And one cannot choose one's family, after all. She grumped. This was more true than she liked to admit, having been married for a short time now to her long-betrothed, Mycroft, who was fine, handsome, strong, knew all the right people... and was as thick as congealed tar. He had utterly lost the fox's trail, right from the outset of the hunt. She cursed the fox, not for living unbidden on their estate, or for revealing the incompetence of her family, but rather for giving her a reminder of it. It all seemed so unfair somehow. She was noble... and yet the price of that nobility was to be saddled with the laughingstocks of the circles she moved through. The fox had run around and around his territory, covering his tracks again and again, until the entire forest was criscrossed with his trail, slowly working his way into the center, where his burrow was. Sondra had known this. Everyone knew this, she grumbled. She stood, raising herself to her full height of seven feet, which made her one of the smallest of the clan. She was a ruggedly beautiful German shepherdess, her looks common in her own family but unheard of in the one she had married into and now lived with. The Cromwell women seemed to find her beneath them somehow, though they never as much as stated it; she knew she was more attractive than any of them could ever be, but was polite enough to never raise this point. Sondra looked through the trees atop the ridge in which the fox's burrow was located. Beyond it was her cousin Reginald, who had had enough sense, or perhaps lacked enough arrogant dignity, to follow his female cousin's advice and run perpendicular to the fox trails. He stood sleepy watch at the back door to the burrow. The fox, she thought, could easily run by him, if the fox was thinking about anything other than that an enemy was poised outside his door. She could only hope Reginald didn't snore. The two of them were the only ones to have found the place. When they caught the fox she had little doubt her male cousin would garner most of the credit for it, but she would be damned if that would keep her from hunting. Crouching down again, Sondra quietly shouldered her way into the entrance to the burrow. It was a very tight squeeze, and as she worked her way through the passage at a crawl, she noted to herself that the other dogs would have had the devil of a time digging through the rocky soil, since none of them could possibly have fit through. Sondra, though muscular, was lithe, and she could pull her body tightly into itself and wriggle down the passage. Sondra finally emerged in the main chamber of the fox's burrow, and looked around. It was tastefully furnished with a number of mock- Victorian pieces which were somewhat grating on Sondra's genteel sensibilities, but were rather nice all the same, done up predominantly in reds and magentas. The burrow was like a one-room flat, in that each "room" covered somewhat arbitrary regions of the floorspace. Sondra padded into what passed for the parlor, sniffing, trying to focus upon the fox's location. This proved ineffective, the burrow being saturated with the scent of fox. Bold little rotter, she thought, to have kept the same burrow for so long, and within the grounds of my estate. Rapt in thought, she gazed at the fox's porcelain tea service. It was not of particularly fine china, but was elegant in its own way, she had to admit... and she heard a scuttling towards the back of the chamber! "I'm coming to get you, my little foxy one!" she shouted joyously, and dashed into the area of the burrow used for sleeping. All was silent. Before Sondra was a high four-poster bed with a red quilt. She held her breath and listened. Nothing. Sondra blinked, thinking. She was sure the sound had come from here. All at once a sly smile crept across her face as she leaned across the bed and looked into the gap between the bed and the wall. There, cowering against the skirtingboard, lay the fox! She stood silently over him until he chanced to look up. Seeing Sondra, the fox emitted a sharp little yelp of surprise, and tried to crawl back into the corner, to make himself smaller. His tail trembled with fear. "Why, hello there," said the shepherdess with a smile. "You must be the fox." The fox eeped and shivered, backing himself up into the corner of the burrow. Sondra grinned wickedly and stepped into the space between bed and wall. "I've heard so much about you," she purred, "And have come all this way to meet you. Please at least have some manners--" She grunted this last word in a most unladylike fashion, as she shoved the four- poster away from the wall with a screech of wood on stone. The fox jumped and cowered all the more. "--and please do introduce yourself. I hadn't made the acquaintance of any foxes living on my estate." The fox trembled. Sondra sneered and leapt forward, grabbing the fox's shoulders in her strong hands. He whimpered as she lifted him upright, crossing his legs, curling his body up as much as it was afforded, trying to be small, to be nonexistent; at the same time he cried "Please don't hurt me, ma'am, please!" in a delicate voice made absurdly shrill by fear. "What is your name, peasant?" she growled. The fox continued his pleading, averting his eyes, indeed squeezing them shut. "What is your name?!" she bellowed again, forcefully shoving the fox against the wall. His head knocked against it, and rolled loosely upon his shoulders. He blinked dazedly. "C-Corwin..." he stammered. "...ma'am," he hastily added. "Corwin what?" Sondra said in a softer but no less stern tone. "...Fletcher," the fox, Corwin, said. Sondra grinned, casually digging her nails into the fox's shoulders. "So, your father was a maker of arrows, was he, Corwin?" "My father was a hunter, ma'am, like his father before him," said Corwin, and resumed trying to curl into himself. "Your father was a peasant," hissed Sondra, widening her grin, showing the fox how many great sharp teeth she possessed. "Like his father before him." The fox cringed. "Now, Corwin," she continued, "I want you to tell me just how you came to live on my estate." The fox blinked. "But ma'am, I didn't come here, I was born here," he said, and smiled a little. Sondra slammed him against the wall for his insolence. Corwin's head reeled. "We have never sanctioned the tenancy of foxes upon our estate... though from time to time we do sanction the foxes." Corwin didn't recognize the pun, but recognized the look in Sondra's eyes as he hazarded a glance up at the shepherdess. She said nothing more, but simply returned his gaze with a terribly empty and baleful glare. Corwin whimpered and began to struggle. Sondra lifted the fox a bit and pinned his shoulders to the wall, holding him painfully immobile. "No! Please..." cried the fox, and continued whimpering. The dog crouched over Corwin and closed her jaws around his throat, meaning to choke the life out of him, and the fox went abruptly silent as his supply of air was cut off. His mouth opened and closed ineffectively, as would that of a fish out of water. He struggled in Sondra's grasp for a few moments more, and then his gyrations subsided as he realized it was futile. A curtain of grey gradually crept down over his vision, lightheadedness accompanying it. Sondra's jaws were steel around the fox's throat, who was beginning to sag against the wall, his arms and legs and tail hanging limply. She held his throat, his life, and enjoyed the sensation of that life ebbing from him. She now trembled, with the passion of the hunt and the taking of her prey... and in that moment she felt affection towards the fox as the focus of that passion. And in that moment, she felt something press into her belly, and opened her eyes to glance down. As has been known to happen in instances involving the oxygen deprivation and stress of strangulation, the fox's penis had come fully erect, and that was what was pressing against Sondra's belly. She almost dropped him from her jaws in startlement. Sondra eyed the fox's erection... she shortly found that she had to pant, her breath whistling instead through her nose; and she found her hand reaching beyond her control and encircling the shaft. He was larger than any of the few foxes whose misfortune it had been to run across her; by the difficulty she had in touching her fingertips to one another as she held him, he was larger than any canine she'd ever known. Sondra shuddered and opened her jaws. The fox drew a great breath of air and coughed squeakily. She let him slip to the floor, and sat down, herself, her legs having grown shivery and a little weak. As the fox gasped each restoring breath she studied him, not believing what she saw. The fox's cock, a softly glistening sort of reddish-pink, was enormous, disproportionately large, such that the glans rested upon the lower extremity of his furry white chest. Admittedly he was hunched into himself, and his digitigrade legs were shorter in proportion than her own, but if she estimated correctly, the fox stood at a little over four feet tall and his erection was equal to a fourth of his height. Sondra's tongue lolled from her mouth, as she advanced upon the fox again, panting, her tail quivering. Corwin's eyelids darted open as the realization struck that he was still alive. He looked about for escape, oblivious of his surroundings and his state of arousal, and saw the shepherdess. He eeped and scrambled to his feet but Sondra was upon him in a flash, pressing him to the wall with her body. The difference in this attack was lost upon the dazed fox. He helplessly looked up at the dog, knowing he was certainly too weak to escape now if he had failed earlier. He began to shudder again, erection pressing urgently against Sondra, and softly croaked "Please don't hurt me," through his rasped, abused windpipe. Sondra paid him no attention, crouched over and pressed against him, bracing her toes against the floor and rubbing his cock through the soft silky fur of her belly. "Silly foxy," she said, and giggled, a hint of madness in the sound as she tittered. Corwin moaned quietly as he waited to be strangled, or for the dog to do something even nastier to him, which was the only reason he could think of that she had let him live. Sondra mistook his moan for one of ecstasy, and murmured "Yes, foxy," still grinding herself against him. For the first time Corwin felt the shepherdess stroking herself against his erection, suddenly realized that he was indeed in that state, and the fox blushed radiently through the white fur on his muzzle. "Ma'am! I'm sorry!" he piped up, lifting his hands apologetically and brushing them over the sides of her breasts and yanking his hands back as if he had touched flame. "I didn't... mean..." "Shush, foxy," said Sondra, reaching down to cradle the fox's penis tighter against her belly. "I'm exacting my tribute. If you please me, then, maybe... maybe..." Corwin started to protest, the arguments against a lady consorting with the likes of him filling his head... but her stroking was so persuasive, and... the fox shivered. He had never paired with any vixen... his reputation always preceded him and they simply wouldn't come near him; and as he realized what the dog wanted he groaned softly, trembling hands betraying him and clutching himself to her with abandon. Sondra felt an electric thrill run through her body as the fox began to respond. Why she should react thusly to a fox, and a peasant fox at that, she did not know, but neither did she care. The muscles in her calves spasmed as she encouraged his erection with her body and hands. The fox panted, still faint from Sondra's attack, and from being pressed between the wall of his burrow and the luscious bitch who had accosted him. Thoughts of restraint and reservedness in the presence of his betters left his head, the relentless tormenting of his cock filling his head with quite different ideas. His small hands brushed along the outward swells of her breasts, massaging them with tiny, gentle pinches of his fingers. The shepherdess ohhhed and with a shiver had to pause in her motions. Corwin daringly moved his hand downward and trailed a finger up through the crease between Sondra's labia, urring softly to himself as his finger became sodden. Nuzzling between her breasts, he turned his hand upright and slipped all four fingers, side by side, into her. Sondra moaned louder, and with her other hand clutched at his furry rump, pulling him to her with some amount of urgency. Corwin purred, smiling foxily to himself, and slowly stroked his hand in and out of her very damp vagina. Sondra bucked and whimpered above him. The fox quivered as he realized he had somehow gained control of the situation; but the sharp pain in his hindquarter as Sondra dug her nails in reminded him that he was yet here to serve. He lowered his hips and braced himself against the wall; the shepherdess raised hers, wanting. Sondra growled gently in her throat, almost a purr, and stroked the tip of the fox's erection through the silken wet spot between her thighs. Corwin emitted a yip and gritted his teeth, holding her close. Sondra relaxed her legs a bit and lowered herself onto him. Sondra moaned commentarily as she felt herself part around the fox's swollen head... and then stretch wider, and wider still... her panting resumed. She began to wonder if she would even be able to take him, and then she felt him reach the limit of his girth and she took the enormous cock in, inch by inch, grating against the walls of her vagina. Corwin, for his own part, seemed forever poised on a great shuddering, his face contorted in a grimace of overbearing pleasure, as hot, slick tightness sank down over him with teasing slowness... he clutched himself to his lover as he at long last felt himself inside. The dog urred at him and continued to take him, until her vulva nestled against the thick knot at the base of his erection. They held each other, held still, taking pleasure in each other silently. Sondra stroked her belly absently, feeling the fox inside her, neither of them fully believing it to be true. The shepherdess gasped for breath unevenly... oh, she had never felt so thoroughly filled. Corwin's hips trembled, as the maddening urge ate at him, to thrust upwards and lock himself inside her with the swelling bulge from which his foxish penis arched. He still had some sense of propriety, however, and would not take that liberty yet. Sondra began to lift herself from him, purring in her throat again as he tugged along her insides. The fox gasped and ohhhhed at what he felt, his own small, sharp nails hooking into her hips. "Let's go, foxy," said the German shepherdess. "You are not off the hook yet." Corwin grinned up at her. "Neither are you," he said, and jerked upwards lightly with his hips, thickly impaling her. She smiled in spite of her station, when her shuddering subsided. "Now stop that, you," she said. "It simply isn't proper." The fox grinned up at her but didn't do it a second time. The shepherdess began to lift and lower her hips, pleasuring herself on Corwin's vulpine cock... Corwin continued to writhe beneath her, still overwhelmed by new, wondrous sensations. "Good foxy," she murmured, "very good foxy." Corwin whined breathlessly and guided her huge muscular body down onto him, his hands at her hips, listening to the soft squelching of each inward plunge, and the breathing of his lover. Sondra let her head fall back as she panted at the ceiling with a wide, telling grin. For the longest time they remained like this, the fox's mind blotted out by ecstasy, the shepherdess driving herself onto her lover's phallus, over and over, her pleased and somewhat triumphant grin slowly fading into something deeper and more primal. "Ohh, foxy, yes," Sondra said softly, the revolving of her hips growing a little halting as the muscles of her legs spasmed. She gripped his shoulders tighter. "Yes, foxy, yesss..." The shepherdess pumped herself faster on Corwin, beginning to tremble. "Yes, mistress," said Corwin, his voice a squeak. "Foxy..." groaned Sondra, her voice strained, and then whimpered. The fox's surprise at hearing this sound was lost as the shepherdess's vagina, already quite snug around him, tightened further. Corwin was pulled into the pleasure of the lovely beast shivering above him, letting out a soft quavering shriek as his nerve endings were drawn upon. "Mistress!" he cried, gripping her hips. "Foxy?" murmured Sondra, her head slowly clearing. Corwin ohhhhed softly and hooked his nails in again, fluidly revolving his hips and stroking himself into the towering female who had mounted him. "Foxy..." gasped Sondra. Then she felt the pulsing of the fox's erection, jumping within her like of the cracking of a whip, unbelievably swelling further. She whimpered plaintively, gripping Corwin's shoulders. Corwin let out a high-pitched whine and roughly drove his hips upward, forcing the taut, shiny knot at the base of his shaft beyond Sondra's vulva, stretching her excruciatingly tight and then locking within her. The fox ohhhhed desperately and gushed into her, crying hoarsely into her chest, as Sondra softly howled within the confines of the fox's burrow. Sondra held the fox to herself as he trembled, curled up against her belly, all his muscles locked up. She stroked his back comfortingly. "Very good foxy," she purred at him. She sat atop his cock for a few moments more, petting him, before pulling from around him with a shudder, trickles of the fox's thick milky white seed spilling down the fur along the insides of her thighs. Corwin yipped weakly as his overstimulated nerves were plucked again. Minutes later, the fox's senses had returned to him, and his eyelids fluttered open. He stared into the space ahead of him, with an odd smile on his face, his hand stroking over his slickened and slowly softening cock of its own accord. "Oh, foxy," he heard the shepherdess say. Corwin looked to his parlor, where he saw all seven feet of his newfound mistress stretched sultrily out upon his Persian rug, her rump to him, lifted and presented invitingly. Sondra smiled at him over her shoulder, stroking her hip, her tail waving lazily, and said "Again, foxy. Please me again, and maybe...." Corwin panted and stood, his erection swaying, comically huge in comparision to his little fox body. Approaching on all fours he trotted up to Sondra, almost breaking into a run, and stood, and with a wet squish buried the entirety of his length within her. The pair moaned in unison. The burrow echoed with desperate moaning and gasps of breath as Corwin clung to Sondra's uplifted rump and pounded himself into her, while the shepherdess muzzily pawed at the carpet, letting the fox ride her as brutally as he could manage. Before long, with a nasal growling, Corwin jetted his seed into Sondra's enveloping belly, as the latter panted and quivered on the carpet. Twitching, the fox collapsed backwards off of Sondra, causing a soft popping sound as he pulled from her. He lay on the floor, panting also. When the fuzz had cleared from his mind, and the black spots from his vision, Corwin sat up. He shook his head out and smiled a bit... and his ears perked up as he heard a voice say "Foxy...." Corwin turned to see Sondra laying back against his bedstead, her legs drawn back and thighs prized open invitingly, revealing that she had by now been thoroughly widened by his attentions. She cradled her breasts in her hands, squeezing them gently against her chest, and with a grin quietly growled "Again, foxy...." The fox whimpered and began to stroke himself to attention. * * * Sondra Sachs-Cromwell smiled contentedly. Hunting season was long over, and as winter's icy grip enfolded the safe, warm manor of the Cromwell estate, Sondra convalesced and gathered her strength from the ardor of giving birth to her two children. She lay upon her bed one evening, suckling the smaller of the two, as the other child slumbered peacefully beside her, and stared dreamily out of the window, out over the snow-laden grounds of the estate, into the dark forest beyond. Mycroft Cromwell, her husband, looked over her and his two sons approvingly. "It is a fine sight to see, my love," he said, "my beloved and my fine, strong children." Sondra smiled endulgently back. Her bringing forth of life had softened her heart a little, and she found her husband's arid personality almost tolerable, if bland. "There is but one puzzling thing," said Mycroft, smoothing out the fur on his chin in thought. Sondra looked up. "What is that, my husband?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "It is just... your family claims to be of pure shepherd stock, does it not, my love?" he said. Sondra nodded, ignoring the implicit insult. "That it does." "Then how do you suppose it came to be that our sons have the most unusual shade of reddish fur?" Sondra smiled sweetly. "Well, my husband, perhaps my history is more checkered than is commonly known."