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  "description": "\nA snuff story based on a picture by the artist MadlyFluffy, a commission for me. Featuring Devorah, one of his characters. \n\nCameo from Floofdragon, too!",
  "description_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'><br />A snuff story based on a picture by the artist MadlyFluffy, a commission for me. Featuring Devorah, one of his characters. <br /><br />Cameo from Floofdragon, too!</span>",
  "writing": "Prologue: Laetitia Occidere.\n\n“You're going to kill her.” \n\nHe leaned back against the wall, folded his arms and waited, remembering. It passed the time well, thinking back to how he'd met her. It had seemed like unlikely circumstances at the time but he'd since come to learn that she...tended to engineer her own set of circumstances and leave little up to chance. Watching her now, you'd never know; she was flitting between small groups, all smiles and chatter and  charm, winning over her guests with a compliment here, a joke there and then moving on with a swing of her massive tail that always seemed to threaten to knock the glass out of whoever's hand she was passing yet never did. \n\n“You're going to kill her.” \n\nThose four words, delivered so matter-of-factly at his doorstep. He'd not had any response for her, just his stomach dropping, entirely convinced that he'd finally been caught but, before he'd been able to snatch at her, she'd added, “I'm coming in,” and done just that, swept past him into his home just as coolly as she was sweeping past guests at the party. \n\nUnfolding and refolding his arms, the jackal kept his face carefully neutral as he watched the lithe, frail little feline working the room. She'd organised this party and made sure that he got an invite. Months could go by without hearing from her but when that little gold-edged little card had appeared in his mail he'd immediately cancelled any and all of his plans – not just for the evening but for the following three days as well. \n\nThe music was gentle, the conversation humming along as a very pleasant level and Devorah herself was almost dancing as she sashayed between the small gatherings, all smiles and grace; playing the humble hostess whilst the jackal kept his station. Likely the rest of the guests had dismissed him as a bore by this time – he didn't mind, rather, he just thought back instead. \n\n\t“Who's this?” the cacomistle had demanded. Fair enough to make such a demand, since she was supposed to be on a date with him. He'd reached for his pen and paper to scribble down some excuse, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to write. Archly offended by the sudden intrusion, she'd stood up, looking the new arrival up and down with contempt. It wasn't often that a cacomistle found themselves significantly larger than a feline and she put the extra height to good use, drawing herself up archly. \n\n\tBefore he'd got the pen between his fingers, the feline had swept her fingers across the fringe of hair that hung mostly over her eyes and said, pointing at each of them in turn, “I'm going to watch him...” her finger trailed through the air to point straight at the jackal, “...killing you.” Her finger flicked to the cacomistle. \n\nIt had only been a few months ago but that's exactly what she'd done. It'd been what he'd been planning anyway and now, of course, now he knew how Devorah had known that, how she'd been drawn to his door that evening. She'd told no lies, she'd been absolutely right that he was going to kill the cacomistle and yes, she'd watched too...one of her dainty little paws on the back of the ringtail's head so as to keep it in the punch-bowl until the last bubble eased out from between the procyon's lips but then...\n\nHe was drawn out of his memory momentarily when she stepped up to him, putting one hand on his forearm. She leaned up as if she were about to say something, then frowned and turned away again, seemingly changing her mind about something. He narrowed one eye slightly and settled back again. If he didn't trust her, he wouldn't be here and he was sure that she'd tell him in good time. \n\n\tHe'd almost forgotten that she was there, the cacomistle's yellow-furred hips held up high, her massive tail filling his mouth, sinking his length into her tailhole so that it stretched wide around his girth – then the glowing had caught his eye, he'd turned his head to see what it was and at least whilst it happened, he'd stopped thrusting and just watched, mesmerised, as the smokey blue-whiteness rose from the cacomistle's eyes, her nose and mouth and floated lazily to the feline's, getting drawn in slowly, smoothly, a shuddering from the body and a squeezing at his member telling him that something vital was being lost from the cacomistle, never mind that her neck was broken and her face lying in punch...\n\n\tShe'd leaned back and rubbed her throat as the last wisps of glowing blue had whipped up through the air and got sipped down, making a satisfied sigh...then stood up, placed her little hand on his head, right between his ears and rubbed them, telling him, “I will see you again.” \n\n\tThen she'd left, leaving him kneeling behind a dead cacomistle, his shaft shoved in her and her tail drooping from his jaws, looking at the door in bafflement. He'd not even been able to finish up right away, simply pulled out and walked back and forth a while, dragged the dead cacomistle to his bed, got her underneath the sheets and had slept snuggled up behind the unlucky girl, trying to make sense out of what had just happened.\n\n\tUnderstanding had come later...\n\nA sharp click of fingers in front of his face. He'd gotten too wrapped up in thinking and Devorah was frowning at him. Clearly she'd said something that he'd missed. The jackal shook his head and held up his hands apologetically, then bent his knees so that his ears were closer to her blunt muzzle so that he could hear her properly. \n\n“Over there.” She pointed and he followed her finger. Elegantly dressed in a gown that showed off her lean figure, the arctic fox was sipping from a champagne flute. He imagined that it was a very fine champagne too. She saw that she was being pointed at and put on a mime of bashfulness, lowering her long muzzle so that she was looking over the glass at them. Then those four beautiful words, stated in the same easy tone as she always said them. “You're going to kill her.” \n\nThis time she went on, though. “I've told her you're a very well off and eligible bachelor and that the party is rather held in your honour to see if you can find a companion. She's terribly arch. Seems to believe that the world's there to serve her. I can almost taste her already,” she said and her little tongue flicked out over her lips. The jackal turned his head to watch, nodding and then made a little gesture. He clicked his fingers, then make a fist and slowly extended all of them at the same time. \n\n“Oh, I want to tell her about herself first,” Devorah said. “She should know before she's dead. It'll bring all of those...flavours...to the fore.” \n\nHe nodded again and tapped his muzzle three times, raising one of his brows afterwards. \n\n“She knows, I told her. She's not expecting conversation.”\n\nAnother nod from the jackal and he pushed himself up off the wall, a twist of anticipation in his belly. One last glance at Devorah though – he pointed at the door that led to the private area she'd set aside and lifted one shoulder in question. \n\n“Of course.” \n\nChapter One: What The World Owes You. \n\nShe was sitting on his knee, laughing, the fox's teeth shining, catching the lights. The sun was just starting to set and he'd been with her for less than half an hour, flirting and fussing and stealing little touches, none of which that she'd shied away from. His pen and little notebook were on the table and he reached around her waist for it, quickly writing, “Somewhere private?”\n\nThe look she gave him said it all. Sultry, sexy and selfish all at once, as far as the arctic fox was concerned she'd just won the game that was going on at this party and, as he stood up, taking her hand in his, she made a point of looking around herself, giving the others smug looks, the sort of condescending expression that only a fox can give. He pretended to ignore their reactions but caught a particularly sneering response from a caracal, all tufted ears and curled lip, that he thought was interesting. Some kind of rivalry, perhaps? He scooped up his pen and pad and pocketed them, then made a grand gesture towards the door at the side of the room. As they walked, he caught a couple of other particularly prominent, ill-hidden expressions of annoyance that he was taking the fox somewhere special; a tall, broad-shouldered hyena and a gazelle shaking her head. He swept past them as if they weren't there and took out the key that Devorah had given him earlier, opened the door and ushered the fox through with a little tap on the base of her back, which elicited a giggle from her as she stepped through. \n\nTo say that the fox hadn't been expecting Devorah to be sitting there, looking tiny in the huge booth, would be quite the understatement; the vulpine practically recoiled, her thoughts of having a private audience with the jackal interrupted thoroughly. The door closed with a little click and with a second sound, he turned the key, pocketing it again. \n\n“You must excuse us,” said the fox, suddenly dropping the sprightly bubble that had been in her voice, it rather sounded more like violin strings being ill-caressed by a bow now. “This should be a private space. I know it's your party but -”\n\nSmiling sweetly, Devorah laced her fingers together and leaned on them, looking up across the table. “But?” she asked, her tone all honey-laced. \n\n“We want a private room with just the two of us.” \n\n“Oh? Did he tell you that?” \n\nFor a moment the fox was non-plussed, her face creasing with puzzlement. “Well, of course he did, that's why we're here, you silly little kitten. Can't you go out and talk to your guests?” She took a quick look around herself and added, “Instead of sitting in a back room on your own. How queer of you.”\n\nThe jackal moved up so that he was right behind the arctic fox, close enough for his chest to be touching her back, his hands on her hips. The vixen took this as a clear message of support for what she was saying. \n\n“So just...run along then, go elsewhere. There are plenty of guests out there that required entertainment, don't you know?”\n\nIf the vixen had taken the time to look behind herself, she'd have seen the amusement on the jackal's face – and she'd also have seen that he was watching Devorah intently, who, without changing her position at all, flicked her head so that her hair wasn't hanging in her eyes anymore and favoured the fox with an assessing gaze. \n\n“You know why you're here, do you?” \n\nThe fox threw up her hands and tossed her head in disgust. “Ugh, I think I know why I'm here. What I don't know is why you persist in staying here when all I want is a bit of -”\n\nDevorah cut her off, not raising her voice, but sharpening her tone until it was a razorblade. “You're here because you're a greedy, selfish, spoilt little whore who thinks she can fuck her way to an easy life. That's why you're here.” A little pause and before the fox could react, Devorah added, “Darling, please.” \n\nHe moved quickly, moving his hands from the fox's hips – one went up to the back of her neck and the other grabbed around the base of her luxuriously-furred tail: he shoved her forwards towards the table so that she was thumped down onto it chest-first, the jackal's hand pressing down on the back of her neck so that she couldn't lift her head up, standing in close behind her so that his body was pushing her hips down too. She squawked, angrily, about to shout something but Devorah went on in her quiet, matter-of-fact, listen-or-don't-but-you-need-to-hear-this voice, a slight element of sing-song creeping in as she explained:\n\n“You've spent your life being handed whatever you want. Spoilt little cub who would tantrum her way through her parents' patience, I can taste that so clearly. You'd scream and wail and punch and kick and bite until they just...gave up. They gave up on you, you know?” Leaning forwards, Devorah put her finger on the fox's nose, the jackal pushing down more firmly on her neck so that her muzzle was flat against the polished wood. “I'd say...thirteen? Fourteen? Just gave up and decided to give you whatever you wanted until you went away and they didn't have to deal with you anymore.” The feline turned her head slightly on one side as if she was listening for something; the jackal knew that this was her reading her prey-to-be and simply held the fox down. \n\n“Ah, there it is, there. When they paid your rent for you to move out at sixteen. Life was one big party, wasn't it? That was because they simply...could...not...stand being near you. Isn't that something, your own parents buying you out of your house.”\n\nThe fox had at least enough presence of mind to snarl at her. “Get him off me! How do you know that anyway? Get him OFF me, this is illegal, I know people, I can have you locked up.” \n\nDevorah, however, continued like she'd never spoken. “All those subs they send to your bank account, just a way to keep you away from them. And oh, your friends, how they used to hang on at your tailtip but didn't you notice how they drifted away when they got jobs and families and earned their own way in life and you were still living off free money from parents who despise you?” \n\nAn inarticulate growl – the vixen tried to push herself up and didn't do a bad job of it at all – managing to get her chest off the table for a second before the jackal shoved her back down. \n\n“And look, here you are tonight. I walk around and in minutes I see you for what you are, as shallow a creature as I've ever seen, looking for someone else to piggy-back her through life. Oh, look at you, now, look at you, you haven't even thought about where you are, you're getting so angry. Another tantrum, is it?” Devorah's smile turned into a wide, toothy leer of a grin. “Are you going to scream and kick until you get what you want? You're so...so...” She seemed to relish the word as she said it. “Angry...” A little quiver passed through the frail feline's body – if the fox could get her claws on her she'd likely tear her to pieces but instead, Devorah leaned in close to the fox's muzzle, still pinned down against the table and said, “You've got such a hateful soul when you don't get what you want, you know.” \n\n“So!” she said brightly, “You're going to die in here and everyone who knew you will breathe a sight of relief.” She gave the jackal an almost imperceptible nod.\n\nThe vixen's cry only got as far as “What do you m-” before the jackal's fingers closed around her neck, squeezing his fingertips in hard at the front, pressing them into her windpipe, feeling it squirm underneath his grip, the fox's words becoming a strangled gargle and, instinctively, her jaws parted and her long, pink tongue came flopping out. She started kicking and thrashing and the jackal, holding her by the neck alone, hauled her upright and gave her a shove, sending the fox sprawling onto the table. Her vanity, at least, gave her the strength to push herself up, the jackal reaching up and grabbing her gown by the neck, the fox yanking desperately to get away and the expensive silk ripped with hissing noise, tearing all the way down as the vixen desperately tried to get away from her attacker, all of that arrogance replaced by fright, her green eyes wide and her tongue still hanging out from between her jaws. The gown, reduced to scraps, came away from her – neither the jackal nor Devorah were at all surprised to see that that was all that she had been wearing, her tail held up high in fright as she scrambled away from them, giving them a view between her legs of her slit and her pucker, both a lovely pale pink against her white fur. \n\nShe was coughing, hacking past the squeeze that the jackal had just put on her throat, scrambling up the big rounded back of the seat. Tossing the scraps of silk away from his hand, the jackal's hand went to his inside pocket and pulled out a nasty little knife, long and thin of blade and golden of handle and stepped up onto the table, up behind the vixen again and cuffed her around the back of her head with his empty hand, knocking her forward. Taking full advantage of her being momentarily stunned, he leaned over and pushed the knife into the base of her neck, right where it met her skull – the vixen let out a shrill cry of pain as the knife pushed through the bones of her spine...and then the jackal pulled on the handle, feeling the pop of her vertebrae separating. The vixen's head dropped forwards and her body shook violently – he kept wriggling the knife in her neck until with an abrupt slump she died, her neck severed, a wheeze of breath slowly escaping from between her teeth. \n\nThe jackal stepped back as Devorah got up, walking along the seat, leaning down next to the vixen, touching her pointed eartips and sighing contentedly. Whilst the feline was exploring the fox, he jumped down off the table and set about removing his clothing – fine as it was, a tuxedo purchased especially for the evening's entertainment; he hung it up on the far side of the room and turned around again. Devorah was murmuring into the vixen's ear; there would have been a time when he thought that was just idle talk but now...well, now he well believes that there's something there that can still hear what she's saying and he knows that it's not going to be pleasant. \n\nStepping up again, he can hear a few of the words that Devorah's whispering into the fox's ear...not all of them...but he makes out, “...you own doing...what you deserved...brat...this is what the world owes you...” \n\nHe doesn't need to wait his turn, he knows that. The jackal pushes a hand underneath the fox's tail and sweeps it up out of the way, giddy with anticipation of how she'll feel: he squeezes her rump and of course, dead as she is, there's no tension from her muscles, she's soft, her buttock warm and pillow-like and, to him, utterly irresistible. \n\nDevorah, now, is stroking the fox's muzzle, trailing her fingers down its length, her murmuring ended and instead, she's staring deeply and lustily into the vixen's open eyes – far too soon for them to have glazed over in any way, they still look like they did when she was alive, a sharp green colour, bright and clear. As the jackal steps up behind the fox, gripping her hips and rubbing himself against her, he watches as the feline starts to take measured, purposeful breaths and, responding to her bidding, the vixen's soul starts to emanate from her eyes, her nostrils, her mouth; a rich and startlingly bright orange colour – the jackal never quite knowing what to expect to see. \n\n\t\n\nOne of the feline's little hands snuck in underneath the hem of her sparkling purple dress as she drew the soul out of the dead vixen, she even made a little squeak of a mewl when the first wisps of it met her lips, moving her mouth to open and close as more of the lurid orange vapours wound their way from the vixen to Devorah; she pushed her hand more firmly against herself and squirmed on it. The jackal, far from needing encouragement, rubbed his hand on his sheath until his member pushed forth and, not even waiting until he was fully erect, he angled his tip down against the vixen's tailhole pucker and pushed into her; it spread easily around him and though his shaft bent a little as he sank into the dead fox, by the time he was hilted he was potently stiff, gripping her hips tightly and working himself in and out of the vixen's spread ring, making her body bounce a little with each thrust into her – her head in particular jogging on the end of her severed neck. \n\nDevorah put her hand on the vixen's nose to steady it, still pulling those luminous wisps of soul out of her, long lengths of it being drawn right to the feline's mouth and eagerly sucked down, everything that was the vixen apart from her body itself getting devoured by the small cat. It takes some time, too – so that by the time that the citrus-bright glow of soul fades to a few aimless little threads (that, nevertheless, the feline chases through the air and snaps up) the jackal, thrusting keenly at her behind, is grinding himself forwards, sinking his knot in too, gripping her tail and going into that frenzied rutting that he can't keep up; he bares his teeth in a silent snarl and pushes down hard on the dead fox's behind, the twitching of his hips clearly showing that he's at orgasm, filling the dead fox with his seed. \n\nBoth of them leave her with little ceremony. The little cat gives the fox's face a final pat and favours her with a smile, running her tongue around her teeth and the jackal pushes down on her lower back and yanks himself out of her; were she alive they'd likely have been tied together for quite some time, easily an hour – as it is, his member's standing, wet and erect, still dribbling seed down its length, the fox's tailhole lying open and drooling, right on show with the way that she was killed on the seat-back. \n\nHopping up onto the table and crossing it with a few elegant steps, Devorah takes the time to give the jackal a stroke on the back of his neck. “You take a few minutes. I'm going to go back out, I'm sure my guests are missing me.” \n\nWhen she left, the jackal sat down on the table, sniffing the air – there was the smell of the feline herself, of course, but the smell of the fox, his own seed, death and...yes, the familiar underscent of a soul ripped free of a body unwillingly that he'd come to know too. Take a moment? He sat there until his shaft had softened and slipped inside his sheath again – once upon a time he'd have spent all his passions on the one victim but tonight was going to be, as he'd been promised by Devorah, a night to remember. \n\nAfter some time, he stood, stretched and dressed himself once again...then looked over at the fox...down at the bar...at the fox...at the bar...and took a glass, climbed over the table and twisted the fox's neck so that blood, still fresh and rich, dribbled out from the wound in the back of her neck and into the glass, the jackal turning her head this way and that to get a glassful out without having to bleed her anywhere else. \n\nHe set the glass down where Devorah had been sitting, checked his pockets for his pen and pad and then stepped back out to the party. \n\nChapter Two: What you think you're worth. \n\nHis reappearance at the party caused a stir of conversation. \n\n“Well, you know what she's like, probably tried too hard and annoyed him.”\n\n“Tried too hard? I bet she tried to jump on his cock, missed and fell out a window.” \n\n“She's always trying to show off, do you think she's gone?” \n\n“Well, he's standing there and she's not, I think she got kicked out.”\n\n“Anyone heard from her? Oh, what am I saying, she'll invent some whole other, better party that she suddenly had to go to by tomorrow and post all over about it to make us feel like losers.”\n\nDevorah simple padded around the conversations, the warm spread of the vixen's soul filling her from toes to tailtip like the finest whiskey on the coldest day. She didn't even need to talk to them now, they were showing themselves for what they really were now, she revelled in the jealousy and nasty, cruel conversation that was spilling over from her guests about the arctic fox – none of them knowing that she was slumped over the back of a booth in the back room, her soul pulled out of her as a feast for their hostess and fucked by the object of their aspirations, left lying there as if she were the most unimportant thing imaginable – a fate that would have galled the vixen beyond reason. \n\n“Do you remember,” started a raspy-voiced caracal, leaning back on her heels, having to look up at the rest of the girls in her group, “The time that she said she'd been on a cruise for three months? I just happen to know that, really, she'd lost her driving license and stayed at home for all that time until the appeal went through and she got it back. Too ashamed to admit it.”\n\n“Oh, darling.” Devorah swept in, smiling, the only one in the room that even the caracal was taller than. “That simply can't be true, can it?”\n\n“It is!” Sensing that she had a captive audience, the caracal went on, “She fucked the DMV guy who was supposed to enforce the ban and oh my god, you should've seen him. Like, we're talking gross, I don't think this dude washed in months. Deer, too, which is just OH! Honey, no, I didn't mean it like that!” \n\nTossing her head and rightly storming away, the gazelle cut herself off from the group, her hooves making distinct clacking noises on the ground. Calling after her, the caracal said, “Honey! Deer aren't gazelles, you're gorgeous, I didn't mean...” As soon as she was out of earshot, though, she looked both ways, grinned nastily and said, “Gosh, are all prey so sensitive?” That got a delighted chuckle out of the gathered group, the deep old prejudice coming to the fore. \n\n“Anyway, this deer, like...we're talking the fake antlers with jewellery on and everything, she let him fuck her right outside the DMV, bent over a dumpster. Dirty little slut, fuck anything to get her way.” \n\nAnd so it went. The caracal's gossip went on and on, the thrill of dissecting a supposed friend in their absence too much for her to resist. In a couple of minutes of listening and nodding along, Devorah had made up her mind. \n\nMore relaxed than earlier, the jackal had pretty much adopted the same place and pose as previously, his arms folded over his chest, watching the party, watching Devorah move around the guests, paying attention to where she stopped. She'd been lingering at a group for a little while now, the jackal's ears had turned with interest at the moment the gazelle had huffed off...and then he'd found his mind wandering, thinking about maybe slipping back into the back room and having another go on the fox whilst he waited for Devorah. She was in her element right now, that was clear, those little currents that he found hard to read at a social gathering were easy for her to slip along with and the fact that she'd been standing next to a very, very talkative fellow feline for quite some time made him wonder...\n\nHe let his mind wander back to the fox, the way she'd shuddered at the blade in the back of her neck, the way her pucker had felt spreading around his tip, the shape and  colour of her soul as it had been plucked slowly out of her...then gave his head a little shake for Devorah was coming over to him again.\n\nAs she approached, he looked out one of the windows – dark outside now, the sun had just been beginning to set when he'd brought the fox into the back room. That was alright, this party didn't look like ending any time soon – the invite had said to expect the party to last until dawn. Plenty of time. \n\nAgain, he bent at the knee so that his ear was at a level with her mouth and he wasn't surprised at all when her pointing finger picked out the caracal, still mid-story, and she said, “She's horrid. You're going to kill her.” \n\nThose four words again. He straightened up, favoured the small feline with a quick flash of a smile, which is to say that his teeth showed momentarily and then his muzzle settled into its normal position and pushed off the wall, pulling pad and paper out of his pocket. Whilst he walked over towards the group, he scribbled a note that, by the time he got to them, he was able to tear off and hand to the caracal. She looked at him stupidly for a moment, remembered, and read the note – then favoured the others with a grin of absolute spiteful smugness. \n\n“I've got to go,” she sneered, leaning in against the jackal who put his arm around her. Draining her glass of white wine, the caracal looked up at him simperingly and, unable to resist, started chattering on, saying, “I'm glad you saw me. You're far too good for that dumb fox. I could tell you things about her that would curl your fur...”\n\nHe simply smiled down at her as he used his arm to guide her away from the group who were, for lack of a better word, seething with envy, tutting and muttering to each other. She didn't stop speaking once whilst he walked her over to the door – he looked around for Devorah and given that she was nowhere to be seen, he assumed that she'd already slipped into the lounge. He hoped that the little present he'd left for her would be appreciated. \n\n“And don't even start me about her, ugh.” He blinked, refocusing on the caracal's relentless gossip to try to figure out who she was talking about now. Not that it was going to matter in a moment...\n\n“She'll get so drunk she can't stand up, sit there telling terrible jokes and then laughing her head off at them herself, like, oh my god, what a stereotype, right? You'd think that any hyena would be desperate not to act like that but she's literally the worst. I've never seen someone get so sozzled as her so often and she's a total idiot when she's drunk, but that doesn't stop her, nobody can really stand her but she's got money so she buys her way into...”\n\nHe zoned her out. It was almost as if she didn't need to breathe in. The walk to the door seemed to take an age but finally, he got there and slid the key into the lock and, once again, he swept his hand forwards to invite her to step in, though was a lot quicker moving in behind her, knowing that the fox was still in there. \n\nThe door clicked shut and...the caracal's reaction was, in some ways, not surprising at all. The fox's body was hidden from view around the corner of the booth and Devorah had perched herself in the same place as before, the glass that he had left her in her hand – he was pleased to see that she'd sipped from it. The tufty-eared cat took it in stride that Devorah would be here – after all, that meant that the hostess and the honoured guest were paying attention to her and her alone – what a treat for her. \n\n“Ugh, what a relief to be away from that lot,” she began, immediately launching into an inane diatribe about the other guests, their fashion sense (in her opinion, lacking), their conversation (in her opinion, dull) and their position on the social ladder (in her opinion, low). \n\nHe held up his hands behind the caracal, palms up and raised his eyebrows, putting on a mime of confusion about her behaviour to Devorah who, for all intents and purposes, was hanging on the caracal's every word as if she were saying the most interesting things in the world. However, subtle and elegant, she lifted one finger to her neck and tapped her throat, then crossed her fingers over. The jackal nodded, understanding exactly what she meant and, putting his hand on the caracal's back, he ushered her forwards – she was still talking, even when she stepped around the corner of the booth. \n\nFinally, something to shut her up. Then again, the sight of the vixen with a knife in the back of her neck, tail still flipped off to the side so that it was very, very obvious that she'd been taken in the tailhole, was something that would shut most up. \n\nNot for long with the caracal though, immediately starting to babble again. “Oh my god, oh my god, you killed her, you two killed her, oh wow, what is this, some kind of secret society or something? This is huge, oh this is huuuuuuge, this is crazy, I can't believe that this is happening right on our doorsteps, hey, wow, I mean, this is like...this is like...mega, I mean -”\n\n“Shut up.”\n\nTwo words, sweetly spoken, sharp as daggers. Something about the way that Devorah said them got through to the caracal, she stopped mid-word, mouth still open, staring at the little feline as she swirled the blood around in her glass. It was the wrong way to be looking for, silent as a shadow, the jackal stepped up behind the caracal and dropped the rope noose over her neck, tightening the knot and, wrapping the rope's length quickly around his forearm, he yanked it up enough to draw a gargle out of the caracal, her hands quickly going to the rope to claw at it. He doesn't need instruction to haul the caracal over to the table and push her down so that she's sprawled over it, the jackal keeping the rope tight around her neck, lifting a footpaw and placing it on her back. \n\n“You nasty gossip. Look at her.” Devorah leaned over and pushed the caracal's face so that she was looking right at the dead arctic fox. “Not even stiff and you were so happy to bad mouth her, to tell everyone how horrible she was. You have a vile tongue and you use it to hurt.” She flicked her eyes up at the jackal and tilted her head slightly. He pulled harder on the rope and the caracal's guttural wheezing got strangled to a sloshy gurgle as her breath stopped in her throat. Devorah lifted her glass and drank the rest of the fox's blood slowly, watching the caracal's eyes widen to a bulge and, then, when the caracal's mouth opened and her tongue came sliding out, Devorah brought the heel of her hand down hard on the top of her muzzle, slamming the caracal's own teeth down through her tongue. \n\n“Be a dear, hold her right for me?” she said, pressing the heel of her little hand down on the top of the caracal's snout, shaking her empty glass at the jackal. He leaned over, wrapped his long fingers around the caracal's muzzle and lifted her head, her tongue still poking out, pinned and pierced by her own teeth and, squeezing her mouth tight shut, he lifted her head enough that her tongue was angled into Devorah's glass and started to bleed into it, filling it as the fragile, delicate cat began to speak to the caracal, looking her directly in the eyes.\n\n“Little liar, I can taste it on you already. Lying all your way through life at the expense of others.” She stopped, inhaled...scenting the caracal...and continued. “Cruel lies too, not little white lies. A...boyfriend you called rape on? Still in jail, isn't he? Oh my, my, my. Lies and lies and lies and why?” \n\nDevorah paused as if genuinely having to think about that. “To...make yourself look better. Oh, what a gift for invention you have, if only you'd turned it elsewhere. No, you just started lying and when you learned how much you could get out of it, how easily you could cut someone else down and stand up where they used to be, you couldn't stop, could you? I bet you're lying to yourself now. Thinking that...this is a hidden camera show and you're going to walk out the star – oh!”\n\nLeaning forwards keenly, she continued as if she'd had an epiphany. “That's it. You lie so you can be the star of the show, all the time wanting more attention, doesn't matter who gets hurt on the way so long as you're the one that everyone's paying attention to.” She smiled then, that sweet little twitch of the corner of her mouth. “We're both paying you all the attention we have now.” \n\nA glance up at the jackal and a nod. Her glass was half-full again of the caracal's blood and so the jackal released her mouth and, moving from just a paw to having his knee on the caracal's back, he wound the rope around his forearm again, shortening the length and pulled her back, arching her back and bringing the noose as tight as it would go around her neck. The caracal tried her best to struggle frantically but, small as she was, couldn't do anything about the weight of the jackal on her, nor the tightness of the rope – he holds his arm firmly as if he could do so forever, his lean muscles firmly locked. \n\nSuch struggles were never going to last either, it wasn't just the rope squeezing at her throat that was killing her, it was the tightness around the sides of her neck too, cutting off the oxygen to her brain. Slow, though, slow – the caracal's bleeding tongue hung out of her mouth, her nose flared and her mouth opened and closed, gulping for air that wouldn't come, her eyes were bulging and bloodshot – it wasn't a pretty death for her, but Devorah's rapt expression said that she found plenty here to keep her attention. The gargles from the back of the caracal's throat soon started to become croaky nothings – and Devorah leaned in and took a slow breath that moved the caracal's whiskers. \n\n“Everyone out there hates you and you just worth killing,” she said, murmuring as she'd done to the fox, letting this be the last thing that the caracal hears – the pounding of her pulse in her ears fading down now as her heart stuttered and failed. “But I think you'll taste exquisite.” \n\nWith the caracal so very close to death, Devorah didn't have to wait; she focused her eyes on the caracal's bulging ones and started to pull and draw; purple tendrils beginning to float from the caracal's eyes...and then quickly they withdrew, whipping back in. With a patient smile, Devorah tried again...the jackal hoisting the caracal's neck a bit more firmly and again, those wispy purple spirals were drawn from the caracal – the fear in her eyes becoming more potent in the moment before they roll up into her head...and then her soul flowed forth easily, richly coloured, a twirling, spiralling braid of purple coming from her eyes, her nose and mouth and straight into to Devorah's – quickly enough that she leaned back and lifted her hands to stroke the soul as it came to her, inexorably pulled from the caracal's body to be swallowed down by the other feline – Devorah's paws lightly following the loops and twists of the soul as she elegantly rent it from its body...for such a small cat, the caracal's soul seems to go on for a long time, Devorah dropped one hand between her legs and fumbled underneath her dress – still the soul flowed and, pressing her fingers against herself, the slim little feline rolled her hips and let out a mewling sound of generous pleasure...and then the last curls of the caracal's soul came flitting out of her eyes to trail across the air only to have Devorah's mouth close on them. \n\nShe lifted both hands and flexed them, kneading the air, a very feline behaviour, her eyes shut and her bottom lip held between her teeth, lying back languidly in the booth, seemingly in a stupor from consuming the caracal's soul. \n\nIt's not that he's been patiently waiting – the jackal's been enjoying watching Devorah this whole while and, moreover, the endless fascination at seeing another's very soul getting dragged out of their body; it's not something he can turn away from easily. Almost gently then, he rolled the caracal over and took the collar of her dress in his hands, tearing it down the front, rolling her over once again to get her out of it – her limbs flopped around limply as he did so. Her underwear was next, her breasts too small to need a bra so he just peeled her panties away and flicked them over her head, leaving her lying on her back, lifting her legs up either side of his body. \n\nHe pushed against her...then realises that, in his delight at watching Devorah, he'd left his tuxedo on and, shaking his head, twirling his finger in the air, he stepped away from the caracal long enough to strip off, this time already very aroused and erect, a little dribble of precum leaking down the length of his member. Once more he lifted up the caracal's legs and leaned in against her, this time reaching down and pushing his cocktip against her pucker and, pressing forwards, sunk his tip into her – she's small and tight, wonderfully small and tight – but as ever, her tailhole opened easily around him and he sinks into her, inch by inch, smoothly pushing in until he's hilted against her. \n\nThat first penetration is always such a true and unrepeatable pleasure, as they open up for the first time – the jackal thrust himself firmly into the dead caracal and, looking up, flashed his quick grin again on seeing Devorah take the end of the rope, still around the other feline's neck – to push it underneath her skirt. Now with Devorah squirming, the jackal can't help but redouble his efforts, driving his length into the caracal with gusto – it's not like he needed much encouragement either, but each thrust that he pushed into her jerked her body and, in turn, jerked the rope – those little mewling noises telling him everything he needs to know.\n\nFor the second time that night, the jackal ground himself against the body of a kill and sunk his knot in – the caracal would've been wailing were she alive, as it is, the bulb pushed in and ties him to her perfectly and he leant over the dead feline, his hips working hard until, with a shiver of his tail, he released into the caracal, knot swelling, penis pumping; and then he slumped forwards, catching himself on his hands, panting, tongue swinging loosely from the end of his muzzle. By the time he looked up again, Devorah's perfectly composed herself, looking at him with cool amusement, giving nothing away – not even when he sniffs the air surreptitiously to see if there any hint that she's...brought herself to the same state that he's in. \n\nUnsurprising, really – he's used to her playing her cards close to her chest and he straightens up and takes a step back – dragging the caracal's body across the table. He looked up sharply at Devorah then and held his hands up; she merely smiled, lifted her glass and took a sip of the caracal's blood. \n\nAnother step back and the dead feline tumbles off the table and, in doing so, pulls herself off of his cock, which flicked up when it pulled out, a trail of seed getting thrown across the room too – both the jackal and Devorah following it with their eyes and...they share a moment's amusement before he turns away to get dressed again, more slowly this time. \n\nWhen he turned back he couldn't help but notice the way that the caracal's body lay on the ground...a quick glance under the table confirmed something to the jackal and he stepped over and, with the heel of a footpaw, he shoved the caracal's body underneath, right where Devorah was sitting comfortably. She looks down too...and then settled her own paws on the caracal, one on her face, another one her side, curling her toes and letting out a satisfied sigh. \n\nHe sat down on the edge of the table, kicking his legs out at first and then relaxing. For some time, the two of them just sat there, both of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts – or their own satisfactions. Finally, Devorah pushed herself out of the booth, taking a moment to primp her tail back into its full flowing shape again and patted the side of the jackal's muzzle. “Very good,” she said, looking down at the dead caracal. “Very good, yes. Shall we?” \n\nWith a nod and a wink, the jackal stood and, with her, stepped back out to the noise of the party. \n\nChapter Three: The issue with excess. \n\n\t\t\n\nThere was, once more, that immediate transformation in Devorah when she stepped through the  door – instantly back to charm and smiles, sweeping away from the jackal and putting her hand on a guest's arm to engage them in lively chatter that...soon quickly stopped. \n\nHe slipped away from her and took up his now-accustomed position at the side, leaning as he had done before, a wonderful ache of satisfaction in his loins and, just as quickly as Devorah had, he saw her too. \n\nIt seemed that the caracal hadn't been lying about one thing, at least. He looked sideways to the window but that didn't give any indication of how long he'd been in the back room with Devorah and the caracal; he guessed it had been a decent stretch of time at least but even so, this was...a sight to see. The hyena, biggest girl in the room by easily a head, taller and broader in the shoulder than he was, had obviously taken the open bar to its extreme and was loudly – very loudly – holding court from a seat that she'd turned away from the table and was slumped over the back of inelegantly, her thick legs either side of the back, arms leaning over and chin nearly touching the top of the chair's back. At some point she'd gone from glasses to getting her paws on a full bottle of something that looked clear, strong and expensive – he recognised the bottle as a particularly high-end Spirytus and winced as the hyena shut up long enough to raise the bottle and chug a long gulp from it – straight. He winced inwardly; how she wasn't on the floor or, for that matter, blind, was a matter for some debate. \n\nOf course, Devorah's reappearance had led to a wave of fussing; a number of the guests gathering around her and talking in low tones, all constantly looking over at the hyena. She was nodding, putting on a concerned face, “Oh dear, oh yes, oh my, I see.” The unenviable task of the hostess to have to do something about the guest who'd taken liberties with the open bar. As he watched, the hyena lifted the bottle again, drank deep, shook her head wildly and looked around with a bleary gaze and seemed to focus on...a raccoon who was clearly trying to do her best not to be seen. “Hey, hey, hey, you. C'mere you, c'mere, c'mere, I wanna ask you something.” \n\nShe looked around, the raccoon, and got a range of reactions from shook heads to outright hands-up-don't-get-me-involved refusal and, her shoulders slumping, she took a few steps in the direction of the hyena. \n\n“Whass...hey, whass'ya call a raccoon...uhh....uhh...” The hyena took another swig of the Spirytus and shook her head so hard that her mane flipped around – loose from whatever style she'd put it in earlier in the night it stuck up like a mohawk. “Whass'ya call a raccoon with carrots in their ears?” \n\nFor her part, the raccoon managed to keep some kind of dignity about her with a slow shrug. \n\n“Anything ya want, they can't hear ya!” \n\nThe hyena's uproarious laughter at her own joke caught even the jackal by surprise, his ears pinning back against his head momentarily. With a scowl and a shake of her head, the raccoon turned on her heel...\n\n“Hey! Hey, y'ring tailed little cunt, get back 'ere, I en't done. Oi. OI! Masky. OI! Eeeehhhhhh, can't take a joke, huh? Take everything else, I betcha! Stole anything here yet? Hey!” And again the hyena dissolved into laughter that ended with another swing on the bottle and looking around for another person to shout at. One of the jackal's ears turned towards the group where Devorah found herself surrounded.\n\n“Got like this about half an hour ago, hasn't shut up yet.”\n\n“Well, we can't exactly call her a cab, she doesn't want to leave. She got really aggressive when we suggested it, it was a bit...scary.”\n\n“It's always the same, starts with a lame joke and then says something horrible. About ten folk have already left...”\n\nThat seemed to get Devorah's attention more than anything else. It was one thing getting outrageously drunk – that's what the open bar was for; but spoiling one of her parties so much so that guests were leaving early? That wasn't something that she'd allow. Reputation carried a long way. She quietly said a few soothing words, calming the ruffled feathers of the group that had surrounded her and glanced over at the jackal.\n\nHe wondered if she'd noticed that the hyena's behaviour had taken all the focus off the fact that they'd come out of the back room together and, moreover, that the caracal hadn't been missed at all. If anything, the rest of the guests likely imagined that she'd left with some of the rest that had decided that they'd had enough, what with his own occasional disappearances (though the hyena was the centre of attention now for all the wrong reasons, he was still noticing sideways glances at ambitious socialites who were still buying into the story about him being a wealthy bachelor in need of a companion) and the fact that their hostess was also missing in action for stretches at a time. Still though, a quick flick of his eyes around the room accounted for...well, most of the guests were here, hadn't left – he suspected the lure of the elegant party, the urbane company and the open bar was better than anything else that they could go to – it was about being seen, after all. And who could really pass up the opportunity to say that they'd seen the hyena (surely someone here knew her by name?) make a fool out of herself and have to be ejected. That was tantamount to banishment from the Kingdom, being removed from a high-society party. \n\nSo it was with great interest that the gathered guests watched as Devorah crossed the room, all eyes on her small frame, looking smaller and smaller as she approached the hyena who, sitting down, was pretty much just about eye level for the feline. She straightened the hem of her dress and said something quietly which got the hyena to swing her big head up – she'd been staring at the floor in a drunken haze whilst Devorah had walked over. Whatever she was saying was quiet enough that only the hyena could hear it, though there were plenty of ears turned in that direction. She spoke again and the hyena's face twisted for a moment – and then she burst out laughing, throwing her head back, her massive jaws wide, all her teeth showing as she cackled wildly, slapping her thigh with the hand that was still holding the bottle, splashing some of the clear liquor up into the air. \n\nDevorah held out her hand and the hyena took it, shaking it like it were a business meeting; the jackal winced to see how the feline's whole body was jerked by the hyena's strength...but she didn't pull her hand back, instead, looked over at him and gave him a slight nod. He pushed off the wall and strode over purposefully. \n\n“I think our guest needs a quiet room for a lie down,” declared Devorah in a voice that was certainly intended to carry. The feline looked at the hyena, almost affectionately and pulled her hand free, adding, “I think she's in a spot of bother.” On the word 'spot' she tapped one of the hyena's blotchy spots which, after a moment's thought, raised another ear-flattening laugh from the hyena. \n\nActually getting her to her feet was more trouble than expected. She was taller than the jackal, heavier and bolshy enough not to want to be helped – though the jackal suspected that she couldn't walk a straight line if you gave her a hundred chances. After a couple of false starts and being told that he was “about as good as a crutch as you are at talking” by the hyena (which cause a few gasps around the room) he managed to get her arm around his shoulder; she refused to give up the grip on the expensive vodka and Devorah had just shrugged about that. Once she was up...well, it still wasn't quick and easy, she staggered, swayed, outright shoved against him to see if she could make him fall over, goaded the guests she passed with slurs about their species, decided that she wanted to go back to the table and generally made herself as much of a nuisance as she could between the table and the door. Devorah, for her part, followed closely, telling guests, “Never you mind, you look radiant tonight. I think your whiskers are darling. No, your tail's not too thick, good gracious, have you seen mine? That dress is gorgeous on you, don't you listen to her, she's had a skinful too much,” and other such silken compliments, always delivered absolutely sincerely. \n\nWhen they got to the door, she turned and said, “Now don't hurry off, we'll make sure we take care of her and we will be back.” She let the double meaning hang in the air for the jackal's benefit and he flashed a quick grin at her as she opened the door and quickly stepped inside, allowing the jackal and the hyena to stagger through together – and the hyena immediately pushed herself off of the jackal's shoulder and took a few staggering steps forwards. \n\n“Hey. Hey, she's lookin' a bit ropey, ain't she?” This was followed by a gale of cackling laughter, the hyena taking a step back to dig her elbow into the jackal's ribs – he found himself pushed sideways and almost into Devorah. “Ropey? Hey? Gettit? Ropey? Ahhhhh, can you even fuckin' laugh?” Another huge swig from the bottle which was, by this point, looking pretty empty. She pitched forwards again and nudged the dead caracal with a footpaw – whatever shoes she'd had on before had been lost at some point during the party. “Lemme guess, she was high strung?” Another raucous gale of cackling laughter; the hyena seemed to be at the very least able to amuse herself. \n\n“I don't know if she's too drunk to take in a word I say,” said Devorah, taking a careful step around the hyena, who was staring down at the caracal, swaying slightly as her face wrinkled up – almost as if some important message was trying to get through to her badly-sozzled brain. She sounds disappointed which, in turn, causes a brief flash of anger in the jackal; this is her party and he doesn't want to see her mood drop. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pad and pen and quickly scribbled down a note, tearing it off and passing it over to the little feline who, by this point, had perched herself back on her accustomed seat. \n\nYou told me the soul listens.\n\nShe pinched the note between her claws and was about to respond when the hyena, almost shouting, interjected with, “Hey! I think she got the point!” She's got a finger extended at the fox, a look of almost child-like glee on her broad muzzle at finding a new joke to make and she doesn't wait for either jackal or feline to join in with her – bursting into another chorus of cackles. \n\nWhilst they both watched, the hyena lifted the bottle up once more and this time, she didn't stop drinking until it was empty. Both Devorah and the jackal looked at each other sideways as the hyena swayed, slumped, sat on the table and then slowly slid off of it, still clutching the bottle. She gagged  once, as if about to throw up, then settled down...and dropped off sideways, the hyena ending up lying on the ground on her side and, just as the jackal raised his finger in enquiry, a saw-like snore come from the hyena. \n\nHe wrote again in his pad and once more, passed the note to Devorah, who was half-up on the table to look over it. \n\nShe's seen the other two.\n\n“That's...very  true,” said Devorah carefully, placing the note down neatly on top of the other one. “Do your thing, dear,” she said with a contented sounding sigh, sitting herself back down and settling her feet upon the still-warm caracal's body. \n\nIt never takes two invitations for the jackal. With no intentions of prolonging things, he simply knelt down next to the hyena and pushed her shoulder so that she was lying face down; her snoring turned into a snort as her front rolled and, placing his knee on her back, right between her shoulders, he gripped the hyena's big head in his fingers and sharply twisted and yanked it around...\n\nAnd he got a shock as the hyena abruptly pushed herself up, shoving him backwards, stood upright, waving her arms around and then dropped backwards, not able to keep her own balance. \n\nHe leapt up too – then ducked back as the hyena toppled. She landed heavily, went to push herself up again and then...settled down into her near-comatose state once more. The jackal looked over at Devorah sheepishly and wrapped his hands together in a complicated mime that managed to get across that he hadn't expected her neck to be so durable, nor for her to leap up like that. For her part, Devorah inclined her head slightly and lifted one shoulder in a light shrug – she didn't say a word...didn't need to. The jackal hunched his shoulders, embarrassed, feeling a heat rising to his cheeks. Strange to think that he'd fucked bodies whilst Devorah drew their souls out and yet that this would make him blush. \n\nBefore that rising heat got to his ears, though, he stepped back and set about removing his tuxedo, watching the hyena as she lay on the ground, settling into her deep-breathing snoring again. This time, the bottle had rolled away from her open fingers and, though she occasionally shifted a limb, the dead drunk hyena definitely wasn't going to get very far. He'd made a mistake trying to break her thickly muscled neck but that was alright, he was going to get a second chance at her. He wasn't in the business of making two mistakes in a row, especially not with Devorah in attendance. \n\nHe pushed his arms underneath the hyena's shoulders and heaved her heavy body up, dragged her onto the table and then sat down beside her, giving the hyena's side a pat. She slept on. He lifted her back, he lifted her legs, he rolled her over so that she was lying on her belly and bit by bit he stripped her off, exposing her blotchy-spotted, murky brown hide, thick mane running right down to the small of her back and black belly-fur. She slept on, snoring contentedly, even when Devorah leaned forwards and lifted one of her eyelids open in curiosity, she slept on. \n\n“I've seen drinking to excess before,” mused Devorah, “But never quite like this. I think she should thank us, saving her from the hangover she's due if we let her wake up.” \n\nIt was the jackal's turn to lift one shoulder in a half-shrug – he moved himself forwards, turned the hyena's head so that she was lying with her face on its side and this time, rather than trying to violently snap it, the jackal simply pushed his knee down on the side of her thick, strong neck. Even in her drunken slumber, the hyena murmured a protest, her hand opening and closing and one of her legs shifting...but she didn't manage to awaken this time. He pushed his weight down firmly on the side of her neck, shifting his hip slightly so that he has his kneecap shoving right against the thick blood vessel that runs up that side – she's still breathing, still snorting and snoring...but the hyena's big body starts to squirm as, even through the fog of booze, it realises something is badly wrong. \n\n“Look at her,” whispered Devorah, leaning in closer to the hyena's open mouth. “Too drunk to defend herself. She knows she's dying and she can't do anything about it.” \n\nLooking down at the little feline, the jackal could see the spark of interest reignited in her; that the hyena's squirming and occasional hiccuping noises were getting her all intrigued again. She was speaking as much to the hyena as the jackal by this time, he just kept his knee down on her thick neck, gripping her mane in his hand to keep himself steady, watching Devorah more than the hyena now, the excitement growing in her eyes again. \n\n“If you hadn't gotten so drunk, sweet hyena, you could've thrown both of us across the room and escaped, couldn't you? But instead, here you are, can't even wake up long enough to save yourself...damned by your own excess. A greedy, greedy soul, that's what you have – always wanting and taking more, big enough to do it without anyone telling you to stop. Loud and brash and greedy and...” She reached out and lifted the end of the hyena's tongue, which had snaked its way out of her mouth, some burbling noises coming from deep at the back of her throat now. Devorah gave that long tongue a flick. “And dying. Oh, do it, do it now,” she said, suddenly urgent and, picking up on that, the jackal reached down, keeping his knee where it was and, with both hands, he lifted and twisted the hyena's head around and shoved, hard, on the underside of her jaw, pushing with better leverage this time – even then he didn't get a clean snap, rather a grinding, crunching noise of bones scraping across each other, a sudden spasm running down the hyena's big body and then a wheezing exhalation as her last breath eased out of her – the jackal shoved her head a bit further in that wrong direction until he felt her neck bones give way properly and then let go, the hyena's head flopping back around and landing, chin-down, right in front of Devorah. \n\nShe reached forwards, placed one of her small hands on either of the hyena's cheeks and leaned in very, very close to the hyena's big snout, especially large looking by comparison and the jackal could swear that there was a little bit of over-excited trembling from the feline, a rare thing to see indeed, as she closed her eyes and drew that long, slow inhale, dragging out a thick, startlingly red-and-orange cloud from the hyena – living to excess seemed to give an excess of soul as well, Devorah's features all but disappearing, looking to be engulfed by the hyena's soul – though of course, it was entirely the opposite, Devorah sucking it down, her eyes flashing open and it would seem that the hyena's own greed had momentarily taken a grip of Devorah in the passage of the soul to her; she hungrily dragged the vibrant glow from the hyena's slack mouth and half-lidded eyes.\n\nHe reached down and held the hyena's head slightly up off the table for her and was somewhat...surprised as Devorah nuzzled into the hyena's open jaws, around the sides of her snout, suddenly more unselfconsciously feline than he'd ever seen her and, then, as quickly as it seemed to have come over her, she threw herself back, rubbing her little hands up and down her face and making light little mewling sounds, almost like a kitten. He watched her for a moment or two and finally, she peeked her eye through her fingers, realising that she had his attention and sat herself bolt upright again. \n\nLike she'd been caught doing something wrong, she looked the jackal up and down and said, “Well, aren't you going to?” \n\nA quick-fire burst of mime followed – pointing at the fox, the caracal then at his own crotch...and finally at the hyena's broad behind with a see-saw motion of his hand, indicating that he was going to need to warm himself up somewhat, having spent his more immediate needs already. \n\n“I shall...leave you two alone to get better acquainted,” she drawled, all of that casual superiority back in place as she stood, straightened her dress and fluffed her tail, heading towards the door. “I should take my time, if I were you, the party will surely be winding down now. I don't know that we'll find another like these three in the mix.” With that, she was gone, sweeping out of the room magisterially. \n\nAt first, the jackal just lay back on the table beside the dead hyena, tapping his fingers on his own chest. After a moment, though, he sat up and looked down at her...then shifted himself around a little bit, sitting cross legged on the table and, with a slight frown, lifted her head up – her tongue hung out from between her jaws. He turned his head and looked over at the door as a thick hanging of drool slipped down the hyena's tongue and onto the table...then hoisted her head up and dropped her broad muzzle into his lap, surprised despite himself how heavy her head felt. \n\nExperimentally, he slid his hand along her jaws, lifted up her tongue and, using his thumb, he shoved the warm, wet muscle down into his sheath, against his semi-hard cock and...the effect was immediate: the feel of her slippery tongue against his member had the jackal roll onto his knees in front of the hyena, hold her head in both hands and luxuriate in the push of his cock right into her mouth, her tongue coming flopping out at the same time. He gripped her head tightly and allowed himself another flashed grin; the feel of her teeth against the base of his member as his cocktip pushed right against the back of his throat put him in mind of how quickly and easily she'd likely have been able to bite his shaft right off with one chomp...no worry about that now as he gently rocked his hips, pushing little thrusts into the hyena's gullet. \n\nWhen he pulled his cock out of her mouth, it was glistening wet with her saliva and, with a pointed little sniff, he rather fancied that he could catch the whiff of the vodka that she'd been swigging at on it too. Expensive tastes, she'd had. They'd cost her. \n\nOk, she was heavy, that was for sure, he put his arms underneath hers and heaved her big body up, over and stumbled, slinging her forwards and giving her a shove at the last second so that she topped onto the back of the long, curved seat, one leg and one arm dangling down, her head rolling and flopping, the hyena's large jaws hanging open and her tongue drooping out. A look down to the side and – shit, her paw had knocked the glass over and spilled whatever was left of the arctic fox's blood. That was a problem that he could solve though; he hopped down from the table and went over to the bar, selecting a new flute and a corkscrew, one of the old fashioned waiter's friend types...and a cloth. If he knew one thing for certain about Devorah it was that she had a fastidious streak a mile long and as such, he cleaned up the spillage and removed the old flute, leaving the table clean again. \n\nHolding the fresh, clean glass between the knuckles of one handpaw, the jackal knelt on the seat at the hyena's shoulder and drove the corkscrew into the side of her neck, twisting it a couple of times...and then pulled it back out, quickly moving the glass up to the hole he'd made...he was surprised to see a decent flow of warm, rich, red blood come out...seems there might still have been a flutter of life in the hyena – not that she'd ever have woken up after Devorah had already drawn out so much of her essence before but...enough to fill the glass before the flow became a trickle and stopped. He set it back on the table, went for his notepad and scribbled, “Fresh & new” on a piece of paper, putting that note underneath the glass as he placed it on the middle of the table. Something for her to return to. \n\nThat done, he pulled on his shirt and jacket and went over to the door, just leaning his head out to look at the party...though made sure that none there could see that he was still stripped from the waist down. It looked to be thoroughly winding down now, Devorah was charming the remaining guests into leaving, from what he could see – a smile and a touch on the arm and a gentle ushering towards the door, large groups starting to gather their personal effects; they all had a look of disappointment that the party should be coming to a close, not knowing that they were, in truth, the lucky ones. \n\nHe quietly shut the door and turned his attention back to the hyena, though cast his eyes over the caracal lying underneath the table and the arctic fox too, hardly forgetting their presence. Now, though, it was the hyena who hadn't had his attention and he hopped up on the seat, stroking his hands through the arctic fox's lush and luxurious tail as he stepped past her and lifted one leg up so that he had his paw beside the hyena's rump. With the way that she was half-lying over the edge of the seat's back, he was in a good position to give her black, brushy little tail a flick with his hand so that it was out of the way and lean over her, rubbing his sheath in between her full, pillow-soft buttocks until once more, he found himself engorged. Each time was like the first, he thought to himself, and reached down to his member, gripped it and angled it down, pressing the tip against the hyena's pucker...and pushed down, once again thrilling in the easy spread of her tailhole around his member, the unresisted ease with which he sank his shaft into her body and the sensation of give when he was hilted in her. \n\nMore carefully than he had with the other two (he made sure that he had a hand on her side so that she didn't tumble all the way off the back of the seat) he started thrusting, slowly and lazily this time, no intensity to the jackal's motions, just an indolence verging on arrogance as he took her. She felt more like the ones that he'd killed before he'd had that meeting with Devorah all that time ago and he wondered if there was a cause for that as he rocked his hips back and forth into her, the pull of her spread anus as he dragged himself out of her and the wonderful semi-slack play of it as he sank back in soon urging him towards his climax. \n\nStraightening his back, he reached down and gripped her buttocks tightly, squeezing his  fingers into them until his claws were almost piercing skin and thrust more forcefully into the dead hyena, her weight keeping her body stable and – his jaws parted and his tongue flopped out, the jackal's orgasm hitting him and he pushed himself down hard onto her, rolling his hips so that he could enjoy the spurting of his seed into her rump whilst fully inside of her...and as before, he immediately lost interest, dragging his member out of her with a slick pop of a sound, flicked her tail back down to hide the spread of her pucker and hopped down, nudging the caracal's head with his foot in passing. \n\nA stretch – a yawn, too. Three kills in one evening was unprecedented for him...but that didn't stop him from giving his member a rub as it slowly slipped back into his sheath, a swish of his silvery tail accompanying it...and when it was safely hidden in his fur again, he dressed – not bothering with the bow tie, not with the party nearly over. Still though – slacks, shirt and jacket all went on and, of course, his notepad went into his top pocket as it always did and, casting a look behind himself at the three victims, he took a deep breath, held it...and let it out in a satisfied sigh, slipping back through the door to the tail end of the party. \n\nChapter Four: Last one standing. \n\n“So I figured, hang around to the end and I've got to be the winner. I mean, right here on your invite, Devvy, right here...” \n\nThe gazelle dug into her purse and fumbled around, completely missing the petite feline's wince at the over-familiarity. Indeed, she was the last remaining guest. Her welcome was overstayed but she was keen to explain herself and she produced the invite with a flourish. Gold-edged paper, of course, only the finest for one of Devorah's parties. \n\n“See, here it is...'cordially invited' blah blah blah 'no plus one' blah blah and then you've written, 'A very special guest with a very special purpose.' Well that's got to be that jackal in the tuxedo, right? And since I'm the only guest left then I have to be the one who gets to find out what the very special purpose is. Just stands to reason, that does. So, no, I'm not going to get into a taxi and go home, I want to see him one last time. Where is he anyway?”\n\n“That's a rather good question, darling,” replied Devorah, looking towards the door, a little surprised despite knowing exactly what he'd be up to that he'd not resurfaced yet. She'd managed to shepherd all the other guests out, each of them gushing about what a wonderful time they'd had, a few muttering apologies for the behaviour of their friends, how rude of them to leave without saying goodbye to the host and more than one of them expressing their eagerness for another gathering soon, surely before the end of the summer? \n\nNow, just the gazelle remained, still with a silly little paper cone-hat on, perched nearly between her small horns. She must have brought that herself, Devorah knew she hadn't provided such silly, childish items for her party of sophistication and glitz and glamour. Moreover, in truth, the three of them had been enough for Devorah, she could feel her head swirling with the souls that she'd consumed tonight – much like the jackal taking on three in such quick succession had been a heady experience, especially those three that she'd picked out for them. \n\nOn the other hand, this brash refusal to accept the end of the revelry (the other guests still non-the-wiser to the fate of the three that had been brought into the back room) was...an irritation to her, though she made a point of not showing any shortness to the stubborn gazelle. \n\nWell, if she really wanted to stay longer...\n\nThe door swung open and the jackal stepped out, looking at least slightly dishevelled – only to be expected, really, though Devorah couldn't help but roll her eyes at him – half for the length of time it had taken to emerge and half for the manner of his dress. It wasn't, mind you, like she expected him to have the clothes on much longer and, when he started over towards her, she lifted her left hand and gave her little finger a curl and a twist, a signal that she knew he would recognise a mile off. A look a mild surprise passed over the jackal's expression but he didn't question the instruction, rather, he gave Devorah a quick nod.\n\nStill intent on proving her point to Devorah, the gazelle hadn't noticed the reappearance of the jackal, nor had she interpreted the little gesture from the feline as anything other than an affectation. \n\nNor, then, did she notice the jackal as he crossed the room with a purpose – the first she knew was when he placed one hand onto one of her shoulders, the other coming around to the side of her face and pushing it so that her head was turned, making it easy for him to bring his jaws around and clamp them down on her throat, biting down hard enough to seal off her windpipe – the jackal and gazelle making a very nearly natural picture of predator and prey all of a sudden. She tried to leap up but the jackal quickly wrapped an arm around her body, pulling her backwards so that she was leaning against him and though she kicked and thrashed, her hooves clattering on the ground, she couldn't free herself. Her little mouth opened and she mouthed words reduced to a gurgling by the bite at her throat – her eyes wide and white and looking desperately at Devorah who stood up slowly, adjusted her dress and put a hand on one hip. \n\nStill moving with that elegant slowness that characterised all her motion, the small feline stepped up close to the gazelle and slid her small hands up the sides of the gazelle's body as she squirmed in the jackal's strangling bite – then slid them around the back to find the zip to her dress, pulling it down and peeling the garment off of the gazelle even as her eyes started to roll up into the back of her head, drawing it down her slender legs and off of her hooves – unsurprised to see that the gazelle had been wearing nothing else. Now her beautifully patterned fur was on display, her white underside, the stark, jet black stripes on her sides and the tawny brown of the rest of her. Another gurgle caught Devorah's attention and she started to speak. \n\nAs she spoke, she started to fuss over the jackal, slipping his jackal off (he lifted his arms out backwards to help her with that), unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it away and finally, undoing his belt and pulling his slacks down, which he stepped out of gladly, never for a moment losing the grip he had on the gazelle's neck. \n\n“When you're invited to leave, you should really go,” she said, quietly and gently, “Just being somewhere doesn't give you any right to success. I imagine you're just the sort to scowl and spit venom when someone who's been at your job less time than you gets that promotion because they're just plain better than you? As if being somewhere longer gives you any right.” She practically hissed those last two words, which was impressive, given that they weren't words designed for hissing. The jackal gave the gazelle's shoulder a push and let her swing around on the her hoof so that she was dangling from his jaws, the front of her neck pulled forwards, her head dangling backwards. Her hands still twitched and grabbed at nothing, her little tail was still tucked tight between her legs...\n\nDevorah lifted her hand to the jackal's jaws and pushed her fingers in underneath his lips, feeling where his teeth were gripping, stroking the grip he had on the gazelle's throat in a way that made his mouth move in a very peculiar manner. \n\n“Come,” she said, giving him a curt instruction as if he were a pet. The jackal turned his blue eyes towards her but didn't give any hint of discontent at being spoken to like that – after all, why would he? A mouth full of gazelle throat, her body swinging limply from his jaws, a wonderful weight to bear, he's just waiting for the follow up instruction. “Let her see what she waited for. Room for one more?” \n\nIf he didn't have a killer's bite on the gazelle, the jackal would've grinned at that, as it is, he shifts his weight and pulls the gazelle along with him, following Devorah towards the back room. The gazelle's hooves made a scraping sound on the floor as she was pulled, her head lolling limply and her tongue hanging out now – he loosened his grip on her windpipe a little to allow her a little wheezing gasp in...just enough so that she would hang on to see the room.\n\nThe gazelle squirmed a bit more but that tiny bit of oxygen wasn't enough to give her any fight...he dragged her by the throat through the door, pulled her over to the table and abruptly letting go of her neck, he slung her around so that she fell face-first onto the table, leaning over her back to push his hand down hard on the back of her neck so that she didn't get a chance to breath. The gazelle's eyes, wide and bloodshot now flicked around in clear horror at seeing the hyena, sprawled half over the back of the curved bench-seat, the arctic fox with the knife in the back of her neck – whether or not the gazelle knew anything about the caracal was another matter for Devorah sat herself down across from her, took a moment to read the jackal's note and give him an appreciative glance and then reached out, wrapping her fingers around one of the gazelle's horns to lift her head up off the table. \n\nWith her other hand, she lifted her champagne flute and took a sip and turned her head to look at the hyena's lolling head behind her, then back to the jackal with a raised eyebrow. He was pushing himself back up off the gazelle, confident from the dangle of her tongue, the heaviness of her head in Devorah's grasp and her starting, unblinking eyes that she was dead and nodded once, confirming that it was, indeed, the hyena's blood. Devorah took another genteel sip and then took a deep inhale. \n\nBefore she began though, the jackal reached forwards and pulled the party hat off the gazelle's head – and, holding it in one hand, he reached down to his crotch and gave his sheath a squeeze, pushing his member, not quite all the way erect, out – placing the hat on it and waggling it about. The look of cool amusement on Devorah's face was good enough for him – he opened his jaws and let his tongue hang out and then put the hat on his head, reaching down to the gazelle's buttocks, squeezing them with his fingers, rubbing his thumbs about on the inside, then used his thumbs to flick her tail up out of his way, exposing her slit and, more pertinently to him, her tailhole, a nice pink pucker nestled in velvety black fur. \n\nHe didn't wait for any invite; rather, just took his member and gave it a shake – still a little flop in it...and nevertheless pushed the tip against the gazelle's pucker...the thumbed himself into her, stepping up and once inside – yes, the tightness and the warmth of her passage swiftly stiffened him up. Gripping her hips, he set about very, very lackadaisically thrusting into her, barely rocking the gazelle body on the table. There was absolutely no urgency in the jackal at all. \n\nSimilarly so for Devorah, she took another deep breath...and then started to draw the gazelle's soul out of her, a magnificent green colour, swirls of yellow in there too, bright, vivid, lurid and...streaks of red came from the side of the hyena's mouth. He'd been right, there'd been a bit of life left in her when he'd dug the corkscrew into her neck – a little flutter that he'd killed off. Both the vivid green and yellow and the darker streams of red mingled together in Devorah's mouth, a cocktail of two souls that very obviously thrilled her from the way her huge long tail shifted around in the seat, lifting and swaying and dropping down again. \n\nBoth of them as languorously as the other took their pleasure from the gazelle – Devorah drawing her soul and consuming it like she was yawning, the jackal rolling his hips and thrusting into her anus...the dark room lit by the brightness of Devorah's soul-drawing and the sounds of the jackal's fucking the only noise apart from Devorah's satisfied little mewls. \n\nIt's the jackal who finishes first, gripping the gazelle's hips and squeezing and pushing his knot into her, delivering his load and pulling himself out without much ceremony, sitting down on the end of the table and, leaning over, he licked his cock clean again, done for the night for certain. By the time he'd turned around, only a final dim streak of green was floating from the gazelle's eyes to Devorah's mouth who, snatching it with a click of her teeth, immediately stretched her arms up, gave a massive yawn and simply lay down on the seat, curling up contentedly with her tail around her to sleep, typically feline. \n\nHe reached up and pulled the paper hat off his head, crumpling it in one hand; the party was over. \n\nEpilogue: Bad news on the doorstep.\n\nHe made a point of standing there, tired as he was – he could barely stand the brightness of the sun but you had to make sure that these things were done properly. The white shirt that he'd worn to the party was now tucked into a pair of jeans as the jackal waited patiently beside the dumpster, leaning on it with one elbow. Right on time, the truck arrived, billowing filthy exhaust fumes out the back and pulled up, engine rattling and brakes grinding; the jackal narrowed his eyes as the waft of diesel and oil washed over him. \n\nA familiar face climbed out – an alarmingly pink, heavy-bodied dragon, dressed in overalls that were covered in grime – a dragon who, importantly knew how to take money and not ask too many question. The jackal patted the side of the dumpster and stepped over to the dragon, silently passing over a roll of cash that more than silenced the sort of questions that could normally be asked. A nod passed between them and the pink dragon got back into his truck, turned it around and backed it up towards the dumpster. The jackal stayed to watch as it was hoisted up onto the truck and secured and only when the truck drove off did he move away. \n\nNo sense in going back in, he'd had a couple of hours kip and when he'd woken up, he'd been alone with the four dead girls – he knew the expectation (though that hadn't stopped him from having one more turn on the hyena, knowing that she was going to be the hardest to get into the dumpster he'd taken care of his morning arousal on her before hefting her body out) and now that all was cleaned up, it'd be Devorah who contacted him, not the other way around. \n\nHell, even the sight of an early-morning jogged didn't tempt him. On another day he'd have been tempted, given that the street was empty and she had headphones in, clearly not paying attention ot the world around her but it was her lucky day. He was spent – for now, at least. \n\n",
  "writing_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>Prologue: Laetitia Occidere.<br /><br />&ldquo;You&#039;re going to kill her.&rdquo; <br /><br />He leaned back against the wall, folded his arms and waited, remembering. It passed the time well, thinking back to how he&#039;d met her. It had seemed like unlikely circumstances at the time but he&#039;d since come to learn that she...tended to engineer her own set of circumstances and leave little up to chance. Watching her now, you&#039;d never know; she was flitting between small groups, all smiles and chatter and&nbsp;&nbsp;charm, winning over her guests with a compliment here, a joke there and then moving on with a swing of her massive tail that always seemed to threaten to knock the glass out of whoever&#039;s hand she was passing yet never did. <br /><br />&ldquo;You&#039;re going to kill her.&rdquo; <br /><br />Those four words, delivered so matter-of-factly at his doorstep. He&#039;d not had any response for her, just his stomach dropping, entirely convinced that he&#039;d finally been caught but, before he&#039;d been able to snatch at her, she&#039;d added, &ldquo;I&#039;m coming in,&rdquo; and done just that, swept past him into his home just as coolly as she was sweeping past guests at the party. <br /><br />Unfolding and refolding his arms, the jackal kept his face carefully neutral as he watched the lithe, frail little feline working the room. She&#039;d organised this party and made sure that he got an invite. Months could go by without hearing from her but when that little gold-edged little card had appeared in his mail he&#039;d immediately cancelled any and all of his plans &ndash; not just for the evening but for the following three days as well. <br /><br />The music was gentle, the conversation humming along as a very pleasant level and Devorah herself was almost dancing as she sashayed between the small gatherings, all smiles and grace; playing the humble hostess whilst the jackal kept his station. Likely the rest of the guests had dismissed him as a bore by this time &ndash; he didn&#039;t mind, rather, he just thought back instead. <br /><br />\t&ldquo;Who&#039;s this?&rdquo; the cacomistle had demanded. Fair enough to make such a demand, since she was supposed to be on a date with him. He&#039;d reached for his pen and paper to scribble down some excuse, though he wasn&#039;t entirely sure what he was going to write. Archly offended by the sudden intrusion, she&#039;d stood up, looking the new arrival up and down with contempt. It wasn&#039;t often that a cacomistle found themselves significantly larger than a feline and she put the extra height to good use, drawing herself up archly. <br /><br />\tBefore he&#039;d got the pen between his fingers, the feline had swept her fingers across the fringe of hair that hung mostly over her eyes and said, pointing at each of them in turn, &ldquo;I&#039;m going to watch him...&rdquo; her finger trailed through the air to point straight at the jackal, &ldquo;...killing you.&rdquo; Her finger flicked to the cacomistle. <br /><br />It had only been a few months ago but that&#039;s exactly what she&#039;d done. It&#039;d been what he&#039;d been planning anyway and now, of course, now he knew how Devorah had known that, how she&#039;d been drawn to his door that evening. She&#039;d told no lies, she&#039;d been absolutely right that he was going to kill the cacomistle and yes, she&#039;d watched too...one of her dainty little paws on the back of the ringtail&#039;s head so as to keep it in the punch-bowl until the last bubble eased out from between the procyon&#039;s lips but then...<br /><br />He was drawn out of his memory momentarily when she stepped up to him, putting one hand on his forearm. She leaned up as if she were about to say something, then frowned and turned away again, seemingly changing her mind about something. He narrowed one eye slightly and settled back again. If he didn&#039;t trust her, he wouldn&#039;t be here and he was sure that she&#039;d tell him in good time. <br /><br />\tHe&#039;d almost forgotten that she was there, the cacomistle&#039;s yellow-furred hips held up high, her massive tail filling his mouth, sinking his length into her tailhole so that it stretched wide around his girth &ndash; then the glowing had caught his eye, he&#039;d turned his head to see what it was and at least whilst it happened, he&#039;d stopped thrusting and just watched, mesmerised, as the smokey blue-whiteness rose from the cacomistle&#039;s eyes, her nose and mouth and floated lazily to the feline&#039;s, getting drawn in slowly, smoothly, a shuddering from the body and a squeezing at his member telling him that something vital was being lost from the cacomistle, never mind that her neck was broken and her face lying in punch...<br /><br />\tShe&#039;d leaned back and rubbed her throat as the last wisps of glowing blue had whipped up through the air and got sipped down, making a satisfied sigh...then stood up, placed her little hand on his head, right between his ears and rubbed them, telling him, &ldquo;I will see you again.&rdquo; <br /><br />\tThen she&#039;d left, leaving him kneeling behind a dead cacomistle, his shaft shoved in her and her tail drooping from his jaws, looking at the door in bafflement. He&#039;d not even been able to finish up right away, simply pulled out and walked back and forth a while, dragged the dead cacomistle to his bed, got her underneath the sheets and had slept snuggled up behind the unlucky girl, trying to make sense out of what had just happened.<br /><br />\tUnderstanding had come later...<br /><br />A sharp click of fingers in front of his face. He&#039;d gotten too wrapped up in thinking and Devorah was frowning at him. Clearly she&#039;d said something that he&#039;d missed. The jackal shook his head and held up his hands apologetically, then bent his knees so that his ears were closer to her blunt muzzle so that he could hear her properly. <br /><br />&ldquo;Over there.&rdquo; She pointed and he followed her finger. Elegantly dressed in a gown that showed off her lean figure, the arctic fox was sipping from a champagne flute. He imagined that it was a very fine champagne too. She saw that she was being pointed at and put on a mime of bashfulness, lowering her long muzzle so that she was looking over the glass at them. Then those four beautiful words, stated in the same easy tone as she always said them. &ldquo;You&#039;re going to kill her.&rdquo; <br /><br />This time she went on, though. &ldquo;I&#039;ve told her you&#039;re a very well off and eligible bachelor and that the party is rather held in your honour to see if you can find a companion. She&#039;s terribly arch. Seems to believe that the world&#039;s there to serve her. I can almost taste her already,&rdquo; she said and her little tongue flicked out over her lips. The jackal turned his head to watch, nodding and then made a little gesture. He clicked his fingers, then make a fist and slowly extended all of them at the same time. <br /><br />&ldquo;Oh, I want to tell her about herself first,&rdquo; Devorah said. &ldquo;She should know before she&#039;s dead. It&#039;ll bring all of those...flavours...to the fore.&rdquo; <br /><br />He nodded again and tapped his muzzle three times, raising one of his brows afterwards. <br /><br />&ldquo;She knows, I told her. She&#039;s not expecting conversation.&rdquo;<br /><br />Another nod from the jackal and he pushed himself up off the wall, a twist of anticipation in his belly. One last glance at Devorah though &ndash; he pointed at the door that led to the private area she&#039;d set aside and lifted one shoulder in question. <br /><br />&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo; <br /><br />Chapter One: What The World Owes You. <br /><br />She was sitting on his knee, laughing, the fox&#039;s teeth shining, catching the lights. The sun was just starting to set and he&#039;d been with her for less than half an hour, flirting and fussing and stealing little touches, none of which that she&#039;d shied away from. His pen and little notebook were on the table and he reached around her waist for it, quickly writing, &ldquo;Somewhere private?&rdquo;<br /><br />The look she gave him said it all. Sultry, sexy and selfish all at once, as far as the arctic fox was concerned she&#039;d just won the game that was going on at this party and, as he stood up, taking her hand in his, she made a point of looking around herself, giving the others smug looks, the sort of condescending expression that only a fox can give. He pretended to ignore their reactions but caught a particularly sneering response from a caracal, all tufted ears and curled lip, that he thought was interesting. Some kind of rivalry, perhaps? He scooped up his pen and pad and pocketed them, then made a grand gesture towards the door at the side of the room. As they walked, he caught a couple of other particularly prominent, ill-hidden expressions of annoyance that he was taking the fox somewhere special; a tall, broad-shouldered hyena and a gazelle shaking her head. He swept past them as if they weren&#039;t there and took out the key that Devorah had given him earlier, opened the door and ushered the fox through with a little tap on the base of her back, which elicited a giggle from her as she stepped through. <br /><br />To say that the fox hadn&#039;t been expecting Devorah to be sitting there, looking tiny in the huge booth, would be quite the understatement; the vulpine practically recoiled, her thoughts of having a private audience with the jackal interrupted thoroughly. The door closed with a little click and with a second sound, he turned the key, pocketing it again. <br /><br />&ldquo;You must excuse us,&rdquo; said the fox, suddenly dropping the sprightly bubble that had been in her voice, it rather sounded more like violin strings being ill-caressed by a bow now. &ldquo;This should be a private space. I know it&#039;s your party but -&rdquo;<br /><br />Smiling sweetly, Devorah laced her fingers together and leaned on them, looking up across the table. &ldquo;But?&rdquo; she asked, her tone all honey-laced. <br /><br />&ldquo;We want a private room with just the two of us.&rdquo; <br /><br />&ldquo;Oh? Did he tell you that?&rdquo; <br /><br />For a moment the fox was non-plussed, her face creasing with puzzlement. &ldquo;Well, of course he did, that&#039;s why we&#039;re here, you silly little kitten. Can&#039;t you go out and talk to your guests?&rdquo; She took a quick look around herself and added, &ldquo;Instead of sitting in a back room on your own. How queer of you.&rdquo;<br /><br />The jackal moved up so that he was right behind the arctic fox, close enough for his chest to be touching her back, his hands on her hips. The vixen took this as a clear message of support for what she was saying. <br /><br />&ldquo;So just...run along then, go elsewhere. There are plenty of guests out there that required entertainment, don&#039;t you know?&rdquo;<br /><br />If the vixen had taken the time to look behind herself, she&#039;d have seen the amusement on the jackal&#039;s face &ndash; and she&#039;d also have seen that he was watching Devorah intently, who, without changing her position at all, flicked her head so that her hair wasn&#039;t hanging in her eyes anymore and favoured the fox with an assessing gaze. <br /><br />&ldquo;You know why you&#039;re here, do you?&rdquo; <br /><br />The fox threw up her hands and tossed her head in disgust. &ldquo;Ugh, I think I know why I&#039;m here. What I don&#039;t know is why you persist in staying here when all I want is a bit of -&rdquo;<br /><br />Devorah cut her off, not raising her voice, but sharpening her tone until it was a razorblade. &ldquo;You&#039;re here because you&#039;re a greedy, selfish, spoilt little whore who thinks she can fuck her way to an easy life. That&#039;s why you&#039;re here.&rdquo; A little pause and before the fox could react, Devorah added, &ldquo;Darling, please.&rdquo; <br /><br />He moved quickly, moving his hands from the fox&#039;s hips &ndash; one went up to the back of her neck and the other grabbed around the base of her luxuriously-furred tail: he shoved her forwards towards the table so that she was thumped down onto it chest-first, the jackal&#039;s hand pressing down on the back of her neck so that she couldn&#039;t lift her head up, standing in close behind her so that his body was pushing her hips down too. She squawked, angrily, about to shout something but Devorah went on in her quiet, matter-of-fact, listen-or-don&#039;t-but-you-need-to-hear-this voice, a slight element of sing-song creeping in as she explained:<br /><br />&ldquo;You&#039;ve spent your life being handed whatever you want. Spoilt little cub who would tantrum her way through her parents&#039; patience, I can taste that so clearly. You&#039;d scream and wail and punch and kick and bite until they just...gave up. They gave up on you, you know?&rdquo; Leaning forwards, Devorah put her finger on the fox&#039;s nose, the jackal pushing down more firmly on her neck so that her muzzle was flat against the polished wood. &ldquo;I&#039;d say...thirteen? Fourteen? Just gave up and decided to give you whatever you wanted until you went away and they didn&#039;t have to deal with you anymore.&rdquo; The feline turned her head slightly on one side as if she was listening for something; the jackal knew that this was her reading her prey-to-be and simply held the fox down. <br /><br />&ldquo;Ah, there it is, there. When they paid your rent for you to move out at sixteen. Life was one big party, wasn&#039;t it? That was because they simply...could...not...stand being near you. Isn&#039;t that something, your own parents buying you out of your house.&rdquo;<br /><br />The fox had at least enough presence of mind to snarl at her. &ldquo;Get him off me! How do you know that anyway? Get him OFF me, this is illegal, I know people, I can have you locked up.&rdquo; <br /><br />Devorah, however, continued like she&#039;d never spoken. &ldquo;All those subs they send to your bank account, just a way to keep you away from them. And oh, your friends, how they used to hang on at your tailtip but didn&#039;t you notice how they drifted away when they got jobs and families and earned their own way in life and you were still living off free money from parents who despise you?&rdquo; <br /><br />An inarticulate growl &ndash; the vixen tried to push herself up and didn&#039;t do a bad job of it at all &ndash; managing to get her chest off the table for a second before the jackal shoved her back down. <br /><br />&ldquo;And look, here you are tonight. I walk around and in minutes I see you for what you are, as shallow a creature as I&#039;ve ever seen, looking for someone else to piggy-back her through life. Oh, look at you, now, look at you, you haven&#039;t even thought about where you are, you&#039;re getting so angry. Another tantrum, is it?&rdquo; Devorah&#039;s smile turned into a wide, toothy leer of a grin. &ldquo;Are you going to scream and kick until you get what you want? You&#039;re so...so...&rdquo; She seemed to relish the word as she said it. &ldquo;Angry...&rdquo; A little quiver passed through the frail feline&#039;s body &ndash; if the fox could get her claws on her she&#039;d likely tear her to pieces but instead, Devorah leaned in close to the fox&#039;s muzzle, still pinned down against the table and said, &ldquo;You&#039;ve got such a hateful soul when you don&#039;t get what you want, you know.&rdquo; <br /><br />&ldquo;So!&rdquo; she said brightly, &ldquo;You&#039;re going to die in here and everyone who knew you will breathe a sight of relief.&rdquo; She gave the jackal an almost imperceptible nod.<br /><br />The vixen&#039;s cry only got as far as &ldquo;What do you m-&rdquo; before the jackal&#039;s fingers closed around her neck, squeezing his fingertips in hard at the front, pressing them into her windpipe, feeling it squirm underneath his grip, the fox&#039;s words becoming a strangled gargle and, instinctively, her jaws parted and her long, pink tongue came flopping out. She started kicking and thrashing and the jackal, holding her by the neck alone, hauled her upright and gave her a shove, sending the fox sprawling onto the table. Her vanity, at least, gave her the strength to push herself up, the jackal reaching up and grabbing her gown by the neck, the fox yanking desperately to get away and the expensive silk ripped with hissing noise, tearing all the way down as the vixen desperately tried to get away from her attacker, all of that arrogance replaced by fright, her green eyes wide and her tongue still hanging out from between her jaws. The gown, reduced to scraps, came away from her &ndash; neither the jackal nor Devorah were at all surprised to see that that was all that she had been wearing, her tail held up high in fright as she scrambled away from them, giving them a view between her legs of her slit and her pucker, both a lovely pale pink against her white fur. <br /><br />She was coughing, hacking past the squeeze that the jackal had just put on her throat, scrambling up the big rounded back of the seat. Tossing the scraps of silk away from his hand, the jackal&#039;s hand went to his inside pocket and pulled out a nasty little knife, long and thin of blade and golden of handle and stepped up onto the table, up behind the vixen again and cuffed her around the back of her head with his empty hand, knocking her forward. Taking full advantage of her being momentarily stunned, he leaned over and pushed the knife into the base of her neck, right where it met her skull &ndash; the vixen let out a shrill cry of pain as the knife pushed through the bones of her spine...and then the jackal pulled on the handle, feeling the pop of her vertebrae separating. The vixen&#039;s head dropped forwards and her body shook violently &ndash; he kept wriggling the knife in her neck until with an abrupt slump she died, her neck severed, a wheeze of breath slowly escaping from between her teeth. <br /><br />The jackal stepped back as Devorah got up, walking along the seat, leaning down next to the vixen, touching her pointed eartips and sighing contentedly. Whilst the feline was exploring the fox, he jumped down off the table and set about removing his clothing &ndash; fine as it was, a tuxedo purchased especially for the evening&#039;s entertainment; he hung it up on the far side of the room and turned around again. Devorah was murmuring into the vixen&#039;s ear; there would have been a time when he thought that was just idle talk but now...well, now he well believes that there&#039;s something there that can still hear what she&#039;s saying and he knows that it&#039;s not going to be pleasant. <br /><br />Stepping up again, he can hear a few of the words that Devorah&#039;s whispering into the fox&#039;s ear...not all of them...but he makes out, &ldquo;...you own doing...what you deserved...brat...this is what the world owes you...&rdquo; <br /><br />He doesn&#039;t need to wait his turn, he knows that. The jackal pushes a hand underneath the fox&#039;s tail and sweeps it up out of the way, giddy with anticipation of how she&#039;ll feel: he squeezes her rump and of course, dead as she is, there&#039;s no tension from her muscles, she&#039;s soft, her buttock warm and pillow-like and, to him, utterly irresistible. <br /><br />Devorah, now, is stroking the fox&#039;s muzzle, trailing her fingers down its length, her murmuring ended and instead, she&#039;s staring deeply and lustily into the vixen&#039;s open eyes &ndash; far too soon for them to have glazed over in any way, they still look like they did when she was alive, a sharp green colour, bright and clear. As the jackal steps up behind the fox, gripping her hips and rubbing himself against her, he watches as the feline starts to take measured, purposeful breaths and, responding to her bidding, the vixen&#039;s soul starts to emanate from her eyes, her nostrils, her mouth; a rich and startlingly bright orange colour &ndash; the jackal never quite knowing what to expect to see. <br /><br />\t<br /><br />One of the feline&#039;s little hands snuck in underneath the hem of her sparkling purple dress as she drew the soul out of the dead vixen, she even made a little squeak of a mewl when the first wisps of it met her lips, moving her mouth to open and close as more of the lurid orange vapours wound their way from the vixen to Devorah; she pushed her hand more firmly against herself and squirmed on it. The jackal, far from needing encouragement, rubbed his hand on his sheath until his member pushed forth and, not even waiting until he was fully erect, he angled his tip down against the vixen&#039;s tailhole pucker and pushed into her; it spread easily around him and though his shaft bent a little as he sank into the dead fox, by the time he was hilted he was potently stiff, gripping her hips tightly and working himself in and out of the vixen&#039;s spread ring, making her body bounce a little with each thrust into her &ndash; her head in particular jogging on the end of her severed neck. <br /><br />Devorah put her hand on the vixen&#039;s nose to steady it, still pulling those luminous wisps of soul out of her, long lengths of it being drawn right to the feline&#039;s mouth and eagerly sucked down, everything that was the vixen apart from her body itself getting devoured by the small cat. It takes some time, too &ndash; so that by the time that the citrus-bright glow of soul fades to a few aimless little threads (that, nevertheless, the feline chases through the air and snaps up) the jackal, thrusting keenly at her behind, is grinding himself forwards, sinking his knot in too, gripping her tail and going into that frenzied rutting that he can&#039;t keep up; he bares his teeth in a silent snarl and pushes down hard on the dead fox&#039;s behind, the twitching of his hips clearly showing that he&#039;s at orgasm, filling the dead fox with his seed. <br /><br />Both of them leave her with little ceremony. The little cat gives the fox&#039;s face a final pat and favours her with a smile, running her tongue around her teeth and the jackal pushes down on her lower back and yanks himself out of her; were she alive they&#039;d likely have been tied together for quite some time, easily an hour &ndash; as it is, his member&#039;s standing, wet and erect, still dribbling seed down its length, the fox&#039;s tailhole lying open and drooling, right on show with the way that she was killed on the seat-back. <br /><br />Hopping up onto the table and crossing it with a few elegant steps, Devorah takes the time to give the jackal a stroke on the back of his neck. &ldquo;You take a few minutes. I&#039;m going to go back out, I&#039;m sure my guests are missing me.&rdquo; <br /><br />When she left, the jackal sat down on the table, sniffing the air &ndash; there was the smell of the feline herself, of course, but the smell of the fox, his own seed, death and...yes, the familiar underscent of a soul ripped free of a body unwillingly that he&#039;d come to know too. Take a moment? He sat there until his shaft had softened and slipped inside his sheath again &ndash; once upon a time he&#039;d have spent all his passions on the one victim but tonight was going to be, as he&#039;d been promised by Devorah, a night to remember. <br /><br />After some time, he stood, stretched and dressed himself once again...then looked over at the fox...down at the bar...at the fox...at the bar...and took a glass, climbed over the table and twisted the fox&#039;s neck so that blood, still fresh and rich, dribbled out from the wound in the back of her neck and into the glass, the jackal turning her head this way and that to get a glassful out without having to bleed her anywhere else. <br /><br />He set the glass down where Devorah had been sitting, checked his pockets for his pen and pad and then stepped back out to the party. <br /><br />Chapter Two: What you think you&#039;re worth. <br /><br />His reappearance at the party caused a stir of conversation. <br /><br />&ldquo;Well, you know what she&#039;s like, probably tried too hard and annoyed him.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Tried too hard? I bet she tried to jump on his cock, missed and fell out a window.&rdquo; <br /><br />&ldquo;She&#039;s always trying to show off, do you think she&#039;s gone?&rdquo; <br /><br />&ldquo;Well, he&#039;s standing there and she&#039;s not, I think she got kicked out.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Anyone heard from her? Oh, what am I saying, she&#039;ll invent some whole other, better party that she suddenly had to go to by tomorrow and post all over about it to make us feel like losers.&rdquo;<br /><br />Devorah simple padded around the conversations, the warm spread of the vixen&#039;s soul filling her from toes to tailtip like the finest whiskey on the coldest day. She didn&#039;t even need to talk to them now, they were showing themselves for what they really were now, she revelled in the jealousy and nasty, cruel conversation that was spilling over from her guests about the arctic fox &ndash; none of them knowing that she was slumped over the back of a booth in the back room, her soul pulled out of her as a feast for their hostess and fucked by the object of their aspirations, left lying there as if she were the most unimportant thing imaginable &ndash; a fate that would have galled the vixen beyond reason. <br /><br />&ldquo;Do you remember,&rdquo; started a raspy-voiced caracal, leaning back on her heels, having to look up at the rest of the girls in her group, &ldquo;The time that she said she&#039;d been on a cruise for three months? I just happen to know that, really, she&#039;d lost her driving license and stayed at home for all that time until the appeal went through and she got it back. Too ashamed to admit it.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh, darling.&rdquo; Devorah swept in, smiling, the only one in the room that even the caracal was taller than. &ldquo;That simply can&#039;t be true, can it?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;It is!&rdquo; Sensing that she had a captive audience, the caracal went on, &ldquo;She fucked the DMV guy who was supposed to enforce the ban and oh my god, you should&#039;ve seen him. Like, we&#039;re talking gross, I don&#039;t think this dude washed in months. Deer, too, which is just OH! Honey, no, I didn&#039;t mean it like that!&rdquo; <br /><br />Tossing her head and rightly storming away, the gazelle cut herself off from the group, her hooves making distinct clacking noises on the ground. Calling after her, the caracal said, &ldquo;Honey! Deer aren&#039;t gazelles, you&#039;re gorgeous, I didn&#039;t mean...&rdquo; As soon as she was out of earshot, though, she looked both ways, grinned nastily and said, &ldquo;Gosh, are all prey so sensitive?&rdquo; That got a delighted chuckle out of the gathered group, the deep old prejudice coming to the fore. <br /><br />&ldquo;Anyway, this deer, like...we&#039;re talking the fake antlers with jewellery on and everything, she let him fuck her right outside the DMV, bent over a dumpster. Dirty little slut, fuck anything to get her way.&rdquo; <br /><br />And so it went. The caracal&#039;s gossip went on and on, the thrill of dissecting a supposed friend in their absence too much for her to resist. In a couple of minutes of listening and nodding along, Devorah had made up her mind. <br /><br />More relaxed than earlier, the jackal had pretty much adopted the same place and pose as previously, his arms folded over his chest, watching the party, watching Devorah move around the guests, paying attention to where she stopped. She&#039;d been lingering at a group for a little while now, the jackal&#039;s ears had turned with interest at the moment the gazelle had huffed off...and then he&#039;d found his mind wandering, thinking about maybe slipping back into the back room and having another go on the fox whilst he waited for Devorah. She was in her element right now, that was clear, those little currents that he found hard to read at a social gathering were easy for her to slip along with and the fact that she&#039;d been standing next to a very, very talkative fellow feline for quite some time made him wonder...<br /><br />He let his mind wander back to the fox, the way she&#039;d shuddered at the blade in the back of her neck, the way her pucker had felt spreading around his tip, the shape and&nbsp;&nbsp;colour of her soul as it had been plucked slowly out of her...then gave his head a little shake for Devorah was coming over to him again.<br /><br />As she approached, he looked out one of the windows &ndash; dark outside now, the sun had just been beginning to set when he&#039;d brought the fox into the back room. That was alright, this party didn&#039;t look like ending any time soon &ndash; the invite had said to expect the party to last until dawn. Plenty of time. <br /><br />Again, he bent at the knee so that his ear was at a level with her mouth and he wasn&#039;t surprised at all when her pointing finger picked out the caracal, still mid-story, and she said, &ldquo;She&#039;s horrid. You&#039;re going to kill her.&rdquo; <br /><br />Those four words again. He straightened up, favoured the small feline with a quick flash of a smile, which is to say that his teeth showed momentarily and then his muzzle settled into its normal position and pushed off the wall, pulling pad and paper out of his pocket. Whilst he walked over towards the group, he scribbled a note that, by the time he got to them, he was able to tear off and hand to the caracal. She looked at him stupidly for a moment, remembered, and read the note &ndash; then favoured the others with a grin of absolute spiteful smugness. <br /><br />&ldquo;I&#039;ve got to go,&rdquo; she sneered, leaning in against the jackal who put his arm around her. Draining her glass of white wine, the caracal looked up at him simperingly and, unable to resist, started chattering on, saying, &ldquo;I&#039;m glad you saw me. You&#039;re far too good for that dumb fox. I could tell you things about her that would curl your fur...&rdquo;<br /><br />He simply smiled down at her as he used his arm to guide her away from the group who were, for lack of a better word, seething with envy, tutting and muttering to each other. She didn&#039;t stop speaking once whilst he walked her over to the door &ndash; he looked around for Devorah and given that she was nowhere to be seen, he assumed that she&#039;d already slipped into the lounge. He hoped that the little present he&#039;d left for her would be appreciated. <br /><br />&ldquo;And don&#039;t even start me about her, ugh.&rdquo; He blinked, refocusing on the caracal&#039;s relentless gossip to try to figure out who she was talking about now. Not that it was going to matter in a moment...<br /><br />&ldquo;She&#039;ll get so drunk she can&#039;t stand up, sit there telling terrible jokes and then laughing her head off at them herself, like, oh my god, what a stereotype, right? You&#039;d think that any hyena would be desperate not to act like that but she&#039;s literally the worst. I&#039;ve never seen someone get so sozzled as her so often and she&#039;s a total idiot when she&#039;s drunk, but that doesn&#039;t stop her, nobody can really stand her but she&#039;s got money so she buys her way into...&rdquo;<br /><br />He zoned her out. It was almost as if she didn&#039;t need to breathe in. The walk to the door seemed to take an age but finally, he got there and slid the key into the lock and, once again, he swept his hand forwards to invite her to step in, though was a lot quicker moving in behind her, knowing that the fox was still in there. <br /><br />The door clicked shut and...the caracal&#039;s reaction was, in some ways, not surprising at all. The fox&#039;s body was hidden from view around the corner of the booth and Devorah had perched herself in the same place as before, the glass that he had left her in her hand &ndash; he was pleased to see that she&#039;d sipped from it. The tufty-eared cat took it in stride that Devorah would be here &ndash; after all, that meant that the hostess and the honoured guest were paying attention to her and her alone &ndash; what a treat for her. <br /><br />&ldquo;Ugh, what a relief to be away from that lot,&rdquo; she began, immediately launching into an inane diatribe about the other guests, their fashion sense (in her opinion, lacking), their conversation (in her opinion, dull) and their position on the social ladder (in her opinion, low). <br /><br />He held up his hands behind the caracal, palms up and raised his eyebrows, putting on a mime of confusion about her behaviour to Devorah who, for all intents and purposes, was hanging on the caracal&#039;s every word as if she were saying the most interesting things in the world. However, subtle and elegant, she lifted one finger to her neck and tapped her throat, then crossed her fingers over. The jackal nodded, understanding exactly what she meant and, putting his hand on the caracal&#039;s back, he ushered her forwards &ndash; she was still talking, even when she stepped around the corner of the booth. <br /><br />Finally, something to shut her up. Then again, the sight of the vixen with a knife in the back of her neck, tail still flipped off to the side so that it was very, very obvious that she&#039;d been taken in the tailhole, was something that would shut most up. <br /><br />Not for long with the caracal though, immediately starting to babble again. &ldquo;Oh my god, oh my god, you killed her, you two killed her, oh wow, what is this, some kind of secret society or something? This is huge, oh this is huuuuuuge, this is crazy, I can&#039;t believe that this is happening right on our doorsteps, hey, wow, I mean, this is like...this is like...mega, I mean -&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Shut up.&rdquo;<br /><br />Two words, sweetly spoken, sharp as daggers. Something about the way that Devorah said them got through to the caracal, she stopped mid-word, mouth still open, staring at the little feline as she swirled the blood around in her glass. It was the wrong way to be looking for, silent as a shadow, the jackal stepped up behind the caracal and dropped the rope noose over her neck, tightening the knot and, wrapping the rope&#039;s length quickly around his forearm, he yanked it up enough to draw a gargle out of the caracal, her hands quickly going to the rope to claw at it. He doesn&#039;t need instruction to haul the caracal over to the table and push her down so that she&#039;s sprawled over it, the jackal keeping the rope tight around her neck, lifting a footpaw and placing it on her back. <br /><br />&ldquo;You nasty gossip. Look at her.&rdquo; Devorah leaned over and pushed the caracal&#039;s face so that she was looking right at the dead arctic fox. &ldquo;Not even stiff and you were so happy to bad mouth her, to tell everyone how horrible she was. You have a vile tongue and you use it to hurt.&rdquo; She flicked her eyes up at the jackal and tilted her head slightly. He pulled harder on the rope and the caracal&#039;s guttural wheezing got strangled to a sloshy gurgle as her breath stopped in her throat. Devorah lifted her glass and drank the rest of the fox&#039;s blood slowly, watching the caracal&#039;s eyes widen to a bulge and, then, when the caracal&#039;s mouth opened and her tongue came sliding out, Devorah brought the heel of her hand down hard on the top of her muzzle, slamming the caracal&#039;s own teeth down through her tongue. <br /><br />&ldquo;Be a dear, hold her right for me?&rdquo; she said, pressing the heel of her little hand down on the top of the caracal&#039;s snout, shaking her empty glass at the jackal. He leaned over, wrapped his long fingers around the caracal&#039;s muzzle and lifted her head, her tongue still poking out, pinned and pierced by her own teeth and, squeezing her mouth tight shut, he lifted her head enough that her tongue was angled into Devorah&#039;s glass and started to bleed into it, filling it as the fragile, delicate cat began to speak to the caracal, looking her directly in the eyes.<br /><br />&ldquo;Little liar, I can taste it on you already. Lying all your way through life at the expense of others.&rdquo; She stopped, inhaled...scenting the caracal...and continued. &ldquo;Cruel lies too, not little white lies. A...boyfriend you called rape on? Still in jail, isn&#039;t he? Oh my, my, my. Lies and lies and lies and why?&rdquo; <br /><br />Devorah paused as if genuinely having to think about that. &ldquo;To...make yourself look better. Oh, what a gift for invention you have, if only you&#039;d turned it elsewhere. No, you just started lying and when you learned how much you could get out of it, how easily you could cut someone else down and stand up where they used to be, you couldn&#039;t stop, could you? I bet you&#039;re lying to yourself now. Thinking that...this is a hidden camera show and you&#039;re going to walk out the star &ndash; oh!&rdquo;<br /><br />Leaning forwards keenly, she continued as if she&#039;d had an epiphany. &ldquo;That&#039;s it. You lie so you can be the star of the show, all the time wanting more attention, doesn&#039;t matter who gets hurt on the way so long as you&#039;re the one that everyone&#039;s paying attention to.&rdquo; She smiled then, that sweet little twitch of the corner of her mouth. &ldquo;We&#039;re both paying you all the attention we have now.&rdquo; <br /><br />A glance up at the jackal and a nod. Her glass was half-full again of the caracal&#039;s blood and so the jackal released her mouth and, moving from just a paw to having his knee on the caracal&#039;s back, he wound the rope around his forearm again, shortening the length and pulled her back, arching her back and bringing the noose as tight as it would go around her neck. The caracal tried her best to struggle frantically but, small as she was, couldn&#039;t do anything about the weight of the jackal on her, nor the tightness of the rope &ndash; he holds his arm firmly as if he could do so forever, his lean muscles firmly locked. <br /><br />Such struggles were never going to last either, it wasn&#039;t just the rope squeezing at her throat that was killing her, it was the tightness around the sides of her neck too, cutting off the oxygen to her brain. Slow, though, slow &ndash; the caracal&#039;s bleeding tongue hung out of her mouth, her nose flared and her mouth opened and closed, gulping for air that wouldn&#039;t come, her eyes were bulging and bloodshot &ndash; it wasn&#039;t a pretty death for her, but Devorah&#039;s rapt expression said that she found plenty here to keep her attention. The gargles from the back of the caracal&#039;s throat soon started to become croaky nothings &ndash; and Devorah leaned in and took a slow breath that moved the caracal&#039;s whiskers. <br /><br />&ldquo;Everyone out there hates you and you just worth killing,&rdquo; she said, murmuring as she&#039;d done to the fox, letting this be the last thing that the caracal hears &ndash; the pounding of her pulse in her ears fading down now as her heart stuttered and failed. &ldquo;But I think you&#039;ll taste exquisite.&rdquo; <br /><br />With the caracal so very close to death, Devorah didn&#039;t have to wait; she focused her eyes on the caracal&#039;s bulging ones and started to pull and draw; purple tendrils beginning to float from the caracal&#039;s eyes...and then quickly they withdrew, whipping back in. With a patient smile, Devorah tried again...the jackal hoisting the caracal&#039;s neck a bit more firmly and again, those wispy purple spirals were drawn from the caracal &ndash; the fear in her eyes becoming more potent in the moment before they roll up into her head...and then her soul flowed forth easily, richly coloured, a twirling, spiralling braid of purple coming from her eyes, her nose and mouth and straight into to Devorah&#039;s &ndash; quickly enough that she leaned back and lifted her hands to stroke the soul as it came to her, inexorably pulled from the caracal&#039;s body to be swallowed down by the other feline &ndash; Devorah&#039;s paws lightly following the loops and twists of the soul as she elegantly rent it from its body...for such a small cat, the caracal&#039;s soul seems to go on for a long time, Devorah dropped one hand between her legs and fumbled underneath her dress &ndash; still the soul flowed and, pressing her fingers against herself, the slim little feline rolled her hips and let out a mewling sound of generous pleasure...and then the last curls of the caracal&#039;s soul came flitting out of her eyes to trail across the air only to have Devorah&#039;s mouth close on them. <br /><br />She lifted both hands and flexed them, kneading the air, a very feline behaviour, her eyes shut and her bottom lip held between her teeth, lying back languidly in the booth, seemingly in a stupor from consuming the caracal&#039;s soul. <br /><br />It&#039;s not that he&#039;s been patiently waiting &ndash; the jackal&#039;s been enjoying watching Devorah this whole while and, moreover, the endless fascination at seeing another&#039;s very soul getting dragged out of their body; it&#039;s not something he can turn away from easily. Almost gently then, he rolled the caracal over and took the collar of her dress in his hands, tearing it down the front, rolling her over once again to get her out of it &ndash; her limbs flopped around limply as he did so. Her underwear was next, her breasts too small to need a bra so he just peeled her panties away and flicked them over her head, leaving her lying on her back, lifting her legs up either side of his body. <br /><br />He pushed against her...then realises that, in his delight at watching Devorah, he&#039;d left his tuxedo on and, shaking his head, twirling his finger in the air, he stepped away from the caracal long enough to strip off, this time already very aroused and erect, a little dribble of precum leaking down the length of his member. Once more he lifted up the caracal&#039;s legs and leaned in against her, this time reaching down and pushing his cocktip against her pucker and, pressing forwards, sunk his tip into her &ndash; she&#039;s small and tight, wonderfully small and tight &ndash; but as ever, her tailhole opened easily around him and he sinks into her, inch by inch, smoothly pushing in until he&#039;s hilted against her. <br /><br />That first penetration is always such a true and unrepeatable pleasure, as they open up for the first time &ndash; the jackal thrust himself firmly into the dead caracal and, looking up, flashed his quick grin again on seeing Devorah take the end of the rope, still around the other feline&#039;s neck &ndash; to push it underneath her skirt. Now with Devorah squirming, the jackal can&#039;t help but redouble his efforts, driving his length into the caracal with gusto &ndash; it&#039;s not like he needed much encouragement either, but each thrust that he pushed into her jerked her body and, in turn, jerked the rope &ndash; those little mewling noises telling him everything he needs to know.<br /><br />For the second time that night, the jackal ground himself against the body of a kill and sunk his knot in &ndash; the caracal would&#039;ve been wailing were she alive, as it is, the bulb pushed in and ties him to her perfectly and he leant over the dead feline, his hips working hard until, with a shiver of his tail, he released into the caracal, knot swelling, penis pumping; and then he slumped forwards, catching himself on his hands, panting, tongue swinging loosely from the end of his muzzle. By the time he looked up again, Devorah&#039;s perfectly composed herself, looking at him with cool amusement, giving nothing away &ndash; not even when he sniffs the air surreptitiously to see if there any hint that she&#039;s...brought herself to the same state that he&#039;s in. <br /><br />Unsurprising, really &ndash; he&#039;s used to her playing her cards close to her chest and he straightens up and takes a step back &ndash; dragging the caracal&#039;s body across the table. He looked up sharply at Devorah then and held his hands up; she merely smiled, lifted her glass and took a sip of the caracal&#039;s blood. <br /><br />Another step back and the dead feline tumbles off the table and, in doing so, pulls herself off of his cock, which flicked up when it pulled out, a trail of seed getting thrown across the room too &ndash; both the jackal and Devorah following it with their eyes and...they share a moment&#039;s amusement before he turns away to get dressed again, more slowly this time. <br /><br />When he turned back he couldn&#039;t help but notice the way that the caracal&#039;s body lay on the ground...a quick glance under the table confirmed something to the jackal and he stepped over and, with the heel of a footpaw, he shoved the caracal&#039;s body underneath, right where Devorah was sitting comfortably. She looks down too...and then settled her own paws on the caracal, one on her face, another one her side, curling her toes and letting out a satisfied sigh. <br /><br />He sat down on the edge of the table, kicking his legs out at first and then relaxing. For some time, the two of them just sat there, both of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts &ndash; or their own satisfactions. Finally, Devorah pushed herself out of the booth, taking a moment to primp her tail back into its full flowing shape again and patted the side of the jackal&#039;s muzzle. &ldquo;Very good,&rdquo; she said, looking down at the dead caracal. &ldquo;Very good, yes. Shall we?&rdquo; <br /><br />With a nod and a wink, the jackal stood and, with her, stepped back out to the noise of the party. <br /><br />Chapter Three: The issue with excess. <br /><br />\t\t<br /><br />There was, once more, that immediate transformation in Devorah when she stepped through the&nbsp;&nbsp;door &ndash; instantly back to charm and smiles, sweeping away from the jackal and putting her hand on a guest&#039;s arm to engage them in lively chatter that...soon quickly stopped. <br /><br />He slipped away from her and took up his now-accustomed position at the side, leaning as he had done before, a wonderful ache of satisfaction in his loins and, just as quickly as Devorah had, he saw her too. <br /><br />It seemed that the caracal hadn&#039;t been lying about one thing, at least. He looked sideways to the window but that didn&#039;t give any indication of how long he&#039;d been in the back room with Devorah and the caracal; he guessed it had been a decent stretch of time at least but even so, this was...a sight to see. The hyena, biggest girl in the room by easily a head, taller and broader in the shoulder than he was, had obviously taken the open bar to its extreme and was loudly &ndash; very loudly &ndash; holding court from a seat that she&#039;d turned away from the table and was slumped over the back of inelegantly, her thick legs either side of the back, arms leaning over and chin nearly touching the top of the chair&#039;s back. At some point she&#039;d gone from glasses to getting her paws on a full bottle of something that looked clear, strong and expensive &ndash; he recognised the bottle as a particularly high-end Spirytus and winced as the hyena shut up long enough to raise the bottle and chug a long gulp from it &ndash; straight. He winced inwardly; how she wasn&#039;t on the floor or, for that matter, blind, was a matter for some debate. <br /><br />Of course, Devorah&#039;s reappearance had led to a wave of fussing; a number of the guests gathering around her and talking in low tones, all constantly looking over at the hyena. She was nodding, putting on a concerned face, &ldquo;Oh dear, oh yes, oh my, I see.&rdquo; The unenviable task of the hostess to have to do something about the guest who&#039;d taken liberties with the open bar. As he watched, the hyena lifted the bottle again, drank deep, shook her head wildly and looked around with a bleary gaze and seemed to focus on...a raccoon who was clearly trying to do her best not to be seen. &ldquo;Hey, hey, hey, you. C&#039;mere you, c&#039;mere, c&#039;mere, I wanna ask you something.&rdquo; <br /><br />She looked around, the raccoon, and got a range of reactions from shook heads to outright hands-up-don&#039;t-get-me-involved refusal and, her shoulders slumping, she took a few steps in the direction of the hyena. <br /><br />&ldquo;Whass...hey, whass&#039;ya call a raccoon...uhh....uhh...&rdquo; The hyena took another swig of the Spirytus and shook her head so hard that her mane flipped around &ndash; loose from whatever style she&#039;d put it in earlier in the night it stuck up like a mohawk. &ldquo;Whass&#039;ya call a raccoon with carrots in their ears?&rdquo; <br /><br />For her part, the raccoon managed to keep some kind of dignity about her with a slow shrug. <br /><br />&ldquo;Anything ya want, they can&#039;t hear ya!&rdquo; <br /><br />The hyena&#039;s uproarious laughter at her own joke caught even the jackal by surprise, his ears pinning back against his head momentarily. With a scowl and a shake of her head, the raccoon turned on her heel...<br /><br />&ldquo;Hey! Hey, y&#039;ring tailed little cunt, get back &#039;ere, I en&#039;t done. Oi. OI! Masky. OI! Eeeehhhhhh, can&#039;t take a joke, huh? Take everything else, I betcha! Stole anything here yet? Hey!&rdquo; And again the hyena dissolved into laughter that ended with another swing on the bottle and looking around for another person to shout at. One of the jackal&#039;s ears turned towards the group where Devorah found herself surrounded.<br /><br />&ldquo;Got like this about half an hour ago, hasn&#039;t shut up yet.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well, we can&#039;t exactly call her a cab, she doesn&#039;t want to leave. She got really aggressive when we suggested it, it was a bit...scary.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;It&#039;s always the same, starts with a lame joke and then says something horrible. About ten folk have already left...&rdquo;<br /><br />That seemed to get Devorah&#039;s attention more than anything else. It was one thing getting outrageously drunk &ndash; that&#039;s what the open bar was for; but spoiling one of her parties so much so that guests were leaving early? That wasn&#039;t something that she&#039;d allow. Reputation carried a long way. She quietly said a few soothing words, calming the ruffled feathers of the group that had surrounded her and glanced over at the jackal.<br /><br />He wondered if she&#039;d noticed that the hyena&#039;s behaviour had taken all the focus off the fact that they&#039;d come out of the back room together and, moreover, that the caracal hadn&#039;t been missed at all. If anything, the rest of the guests likely imagined that she&#039;d left with some of the rest that had decided that they&#039;d had enough, what with his own occasional disappearances (though the hyena was the centre of attention now for all the wrong reasons, he was still noticing sideways glances at ambitious socialites who were still buying into the story about him being a wealthy bachelor in need of a companion) and the fact that their hostess was also missing in action for stretches at a time. Still though, a quick flick of his eyes around the room accounted for...well, most of the guests were here, hadn&#039;t left &ndash; he suspected the lure of the elegant party, the urbane company and the open bar was better than anything else that they could go to &ndash; it was about being seen, after all. And who could really pass up the opportunity to say that they&#039;d seen the hyena (surely someone here knew her by name?) make a fool out of herself and have to be ejected. That was tantamount to banishment from the Kingdom, being removed from a high-society party. <br /><br />So it was with great interest that the gathered guests watched as Devorah crossed the room, all eyes on her small frame, looking smaller and smaller as she approached the hyena who, sitting down, was pretty much just about eye level for the feline. She straightened the hem of her dress and said something quietly which got the hyena to swing her big head up &ndash; she&#039;d been staring at the floor in a drunken haze whilst Devorah had walked over. Whatever she was saying was quiet enough that only the hyena could hear it, though there were plenty of ears turned in that direction. She spoke again and the hyena&#039;s face twisted for a moment &ndash; and then she burst out laughing, throwing her head back, her massive jaws wide, all her teeth showing as she cackled wildly, slapping her thigh with the hand that was still holding the bottle, splashing some of the clear liquor up into the air. <br /><br />Devorah held out her hand and the hyena took it, shaking it like it were a business meeting; the jackal winced to see how the feline&#039;s whole body was jerked by the hyena&#039;s strength...but she didn&#039;t pull her hand back, instead, looked over at him and gave him a slight nod. He pushed off the wall and strode over purposefully. <br /><br />&ldquo;I think our guest needs a quiet room for a lie down,&rdquo; declared Devorah in a voice that was certainly intended to carry. The feline looked at the hyena, almost affectionately and pulled her hand free, adding, &ldquo;I think she&#039;s in a spot of bother.&rdquo; On the word &#039;spot&#039; she tapped one of the hyena&#039;s blotchy spots which, after a moment&#039;s thought, raised another ear-flattening laugh from the hyena. <br /><br />Actually getting her to her feet was more trouble than expected. She was taller than the jackal, heavier and bolshy enough not to want to be helped &ndash; though the jackal suspected that she couldn&#039;t walk a straight line if you gave her a hundred chances. After a couple of false starts and being told that he was &ldquo;about as good as a crutch as you are at talking&rdquo; by the hyena (which cause a few gasps around the room) he managed to get her arm around his shoulder; she refused to give up the grip on the expensive vodka and Devorah had just shrugged about that. Once she was up...well, it still wasn&#039;t quick and easy, she staggered, swayed, outright shoved against him to see if she could make him fall over, goaded the guests she passed with slurs about their species, decided that she wanted to go back to the table and generally made herself as much of a nuisance as she could between the table and the door. Devorah, for her part, followed closely, telling guests, &ldquo;Never you mind, you look radiant tonight. I think your whiskers are darling. No, your tail&#039;s not too thick, good gracious, have you seen mine? That dress is gorgeous on you, don&#039;t you listen to her, she&#039;s had a skinful too much,&rdquo; and other such silken compliments, always delivered absolutely sincerely. <br /><br />When they got to the door, she turned and said, &ldquo;Now don&#039;t hurry off, we&#039;ll make sure we take care of her and we will be back.&rdquo; She let the double meaning hang in the air for the jackal&#039;s benefit and he flashed a quick grin at her as she opened the door and quickly stepped inside, allowing the jackal and the hyena to stagger through together &ndash; and the hyena immediately pushed herself off of the jackal&#039;s shoulder and took a few staggering steps forwards. <br /><br />&ldquo;Hey. Hey, she&#039;s lookin&#039; a bit ropey, ain&#039;t she?&rdquo; This was followed by a gale of cackling laughter, the hyena taking a step back to dig her elbow into the jackal&#039;s ribs &ndash; he found himself pushed sideways and almost into Devorah. &ldquo;Ropey? Hey? Gettit? Ropey? Ahhhhh, can you even fuckin&#039; laugh?&rdquo; Another huge swig from the bottle which was, by this point, looking pretty empty. She pitched forwards again and nudged the dead caracal with a footpaw &ndash; whatever shoes she&#039;d had on before had been lost at some point during the party. &ldquo;Lemme guess, she was high strung?&rdquo; Another raucous gale of cackling laughter; the hyena seemed to be at the very least able to amuse herself. <br /><br />&ldquo;I don&#039;t know if she&#039;s too drunk to take in a word I say,&rdquo; said Devorah, taking a careful step around the hyena, who was staring down at the caracal, swaying slightly as her face wrinkled up &ndash; almost as if some important message was trying to get through to her badly-sozzled brain. She sounds disappointed which, in turn, causes a brief flash of anger in the jackal; this is her party and he doesn&#039;t want to see her mood drop. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pad and pen and quickly scribbled down a note, tearing it off and passing it over to the little feline who, by this point, had perched herself back on her accustomed seat. <br /><br />You told me the soul listens.<br /><br />She pinched the note between her claws and was about to respond when the hyena, almost shouting, interjected with, &ldquo;Hey! I think she got the point!&rdquo; She&#039;s got a finger extended at the fox, a look of almost child-like glee on her broad muzzle at finding a new joke to make and she doesn&#039;t wait for either jackal or feline to join in with her &ndash; bursting into another chorus of cackles. <br /><br />Whilst they both watched, the hyena lifted the bottle up once more and this time, she didn&#039;t stop drinking until it was empty. Both Devorah and the jackal looked at each other sideways as the hyena swayed, slumped, sat on the table and then slowly slid off of it, still clutching the bottle. She gagged&nbsp;&nbsp;once, as if about to throw up, then settled down...and dropped off sideways, the hyena ending up lying on the ground on her side and, just as the jackal raised his finger in enquiry, a saw-like snore come from the hyena. <br /><br />He wrote again in his pad and once more, passed the note to Devorah, who was half-up on the table to look over it. <br /><br />She&#039;s seen the other two.<br /><br />&ldquo;That&#039;s...very&nbsp;&nbsp;true,&rdquo; said Devorah carefully, placing the note down neatly on top of the other one. &ldquo;Do your thing, dear,&rdquo; she said with a contented sounding sigh, sitting herself back down and settling her feet upon the still-warm caracal&#039;s body. <br /><br />It never takes two invitations for the jackal. With no intentions of prolonging things, he simply knelt down next to the hyena and pushed her shoulder so that she was lying face down; her snoring turned into a snort as her front rolled and, placing his knee on her back, right between her shoulders, he gripped the hyena&#039;s big head in his fingers and sharply twisted and yanked it around...<br /><br />And he got a shock as the hyena abruptly pushed herself up, shoving him backwards, stood upright, waving her arms around and then dropped backwards, not able to keep her own balance. <br /><br />He leapt up too &ndash; then ducked back as the hyena toppled. She landed heavily, went to push herself up again and then...settled down into her near-comatose state once more. The jackal looked over at Devorah sheepishly and wrapped his hands together in a complicated mime that managed to get across that he hadn&#039;t expected her neck to be so durable, nor for her to leap up like that. For her part, Devorah inclined her head slightly and lifted one shoulder in a light shrug &ndash; she didn&#039;t say a word...didn&#039;t need to. The jackal hunched his shoulders, embarrassed, feeling a heat rising to his cheeks. Strange to think that he&#039;d fucked bodies whilst Devorah drew their souls out and yet that this would make him blush. <br /><br />Before that rising heat got to his ears, though, he stepped back and set about removing his tuxedo, watching the hyena as she lay on the ground, settling into her deep-breathing snoring again. This time, the bottle had rolled away from her open fingers and, though she occasionally shifted a limb, the dead drunk hyena definitely wasn&#039;t going to get very far. He&#039;d made a mistake trying to break her thickly muscled neck but that was alright, he was going to get a second chance at her. He wasn&#039;t in the business of making two mistakes in a row, especially not with Devorah in attendance. <br /><br />He pushed his arms underneath the hyena&#039;s shoulders and heaved her heavy body up, dragged her onto the table and then sat down beside her, giving the hyena&#039;s side a pat. She slept on. He lifted her back, he lifted her legs, he rolled her over so that she was lying on her belly and bit by bit he stripped her off, exposing her blotchy-spotted, murky brown hide, thick mane running right down to the small of her back and black belly-fur. She slept on, snoring contentedly, even when Devorah leaned forwards and lifted one of her eyelids open in curiosity, she slept on. <br /><br />&ldquo;I&#039;ve seen drinking to excess before,&rdquo; mused Devorah, &ldquo;But never quite like this. I think she should thank us, saving her from the hangover she&#039;s due if we let her wake up.&rdquo; <br /><br />It was the jackal&#039;s turn to lift one shoulder in a half-shrug &ndash; he moved himself forwards, turned the hyena&#039;s head so that she was lying with her face on its side and this time, rather than trying to violently snap it, the jackal simply pushed his knee down on the side of her thick, strong neck. Even in her drunken slumber, the hyena murmured a protest, her hand opening and closing and one of her legs shifting...but she didn&#039;t manage to awaken this time. He pushed his weight down firmly on the side of her neck, shifting his hip slightly so that he has his kneecap shoving right against the thick blood vessel that runs up that side &ndash; she&#039;s still breathing, still snorting and snoring...but the hyena&#039;s big body starts to squirm as, even through the fog of booze, it realises something is badly wrong. <br /><br />&ldquo;Look at her,&rdquo; whispered Devorah, leaning in closer to the hyena&#039;s open mouth. &ldquo;Too drunk to defend herself. She knows she&#039;s dying and she can&#039;t do anything about it.&rdquo; <br /><br />Looking down at the little feline, the jackal could see the spark of interest reignited in her; that the hyena&#039;s squirming and occasional hiccuping noises were getting her all intrigued again. She was speaking as much to the hyena as the jackal by this time, he just kept his knee down on her thick neck, gripping her mane in his hand to keep himself steady, watching Devorah more than the hyena now, the excitement growing in her eyes again. <br /><br />&ldquo;If you hadn&#039;t gotten so drunk, sweet hyena, you could&#039;ve thrown both of us across the room and escaped, couldn&#039;t you? But instead, here you are, can&#039;t even wake up long enough to save yourself...damned by your own excess. A greedy, greedy soul, that&#039;s what you have &ndash; always wanting and taking more, big enough to do it without anyone telling you to stop. Loud and brash and greedy and...&rdquo; She reached out and lifted the end of the hyena&#039;s tongue, which had snaked its way out of her mouth, some burbling noises coming from deep at the back of her throat now. Devorah gave that long tongue a flick. &ldquo;And dying. Oh, do it, do it now,&rdquo; she said, suddenly urgent and, picking up on that, the jackal reached down, keeping his knee where it was and, with both hands, he lifted and twisted the hyena&#039;s head around and shoved, hard, on the underside of her jaw, pushing with better leverage this time &ndash; even then he didn&#039;t get a clean snap, rather a grinding, crunching noise of bones scraping across each other, a sudden spasm running down the hyena&#039;s big body and then a wheezing exhalation as her last breath eased out of her &ndash; the jackal shoved her head a bit further in that wrong direction until he felt her neck bones give way properly and then let go, the hyena&#039;s head flopping back around and landing, chin-down, right in front of Devorah. <br /><br />She reached forwards, placed one of her small hands on either of the hyena&#039;s cheeks and leaned in very, very close to the hyena&#039;s big snout, especially large looking by comparison and the jackal could swear that there was a little bit of over-excited trembling from the feline, a rare thing to see indeed, as she closed her eyes and drew that long, slow inhale, dragging out a thick, startlingly red-and-orange cloud from the hyena &ndash; living to excess seemed to give an excess of soul as well, Devorah&#039;s features all but disappearing, looking to be engulfed by the hyena&#039;s soul &ndash; though of course, it was entirely the opposite, Devorah sucking it down, her eyes flashing open and it would seem that the hyena&#039;s own greed had momentarily taken a grip of Devorah in the passage of the soul to her; she hungrily dragged the vibrant glow from the hyena&#039;s slack mouth and half-lidded eyes.<br /><br />He reached down and held the hyena&#039;s head slightly up off the table for her and was somewhat...surprised as Devorah nuzzled into the hyena&#039;s open jaws, around the sides of her snout, suddenly more unselfconsciously feline than he&#039;d ever seen her and, then, as quickly as it seemed to have come over her, she threw herself back, rubbing her little hands up and down her face and making light little mewling sounds, almost like a kitten. He watched her for a moment or two and finally, she peeked her eye through her fingers, realising that she had his attention and sat herself bolt upright again. <br /><br />Like she&#039;d been caught doing something wrong, she looked the jackal up and down and said, &ldquo;Well, aren&#039;t you going to?&rdquo; <br /><br />A quick-fire burst of mime followed &ndash; pointing at the fox, the caracal then at his own crotch...and finally at the hyena&#039;s broad behind with a see-saw motion of his hand, indicating that he was going to need to warm himself up somewhat, having spent his more immediate needs already. <br /><br />&ldquo;I shall...leave you two alone to get better acquainted,&rdquo; she drawled, all of that casual superiority back in place as she stood, straightened her dress and fluffed her tail, heading towards the door. &ldquo;I should take my time, if I were you, the party will surely be winding down now. I don&#039;t know that we&#039;ll find another like these three in the mix.&rdquo; With that, she was gone, sweeping out of the room magisterially. <br /><br />At first, the jackal just lay back on the table beside the dead hyena, tapping his fingers on his own chest. After a moment, though, he sat up and looked down at her...then shifted himself around a little bit, sitting cross legged on the table and, with a slight frown, lifted her head up &ndash; her tongue hung out from between her jaws. He turned his head and looked over at the door as a thick hanging of drool slipped down the hyena&#039;s tongue and onto the table...then hoisted her head up and dropped her broad muzzle into his lap, surprised despite himself how heavy her head felt. <br /><br />Experimentally, he slid his hand along her jaws, lifted up her tongue and, using his thumb, he shoved the warm, wet muscle down into his sheath, against his semi-hard cock and...the effect was immediate: the feel of her slippery tongue against his member had the jackal roll onto his knees in front of the hyena, hold her head in both hands and luxuriate in the push of his cock right into her mouth, her tongue coming flopping out at the same time. He gripped her head tightly and allowed himself another flashed grin; the feel of her teeth against the base of his member as his cocktip pushed right against the back of his throat put him in mind of how quickly and easily she&#039;d likely have been able to bite his shaft right off with one chomp...no worry about that now as he gently rocked his hips, pushing little thrusts into the hyena&#039;s gullet. <br /><br />When he pulled his cock out of her mouth, it was glistening wet with her saliva and, with a pointed little sniff, he rather fancied that he could catch the whiff of the vodka that she&#039;d been swigging at on it too. Expensive tastes, she&#039;d had. They&#039;d cost her. <br /><br />Ok, she was heavy, that was for sure, he put his arms underneath hers and heaved her big body up, over and stumbled, slinging her forwards and giving her a shove at the last second so that she topped onto the back of the long, curved seat, one leg and one arm dangling down, her head rolling and flopping, the hyena&#039;s large jaws hanging open and her tongue drooping out. A look down to the side and &ndash; shit, her paw had knocked the glass over and spilled whatever was left of the arctic fox&#039;s blood. That was a problem that he could solve though; he hopped down from the table and went over to the bar, selecting a new flute and a corkscrew, one of the old fashioned waiter&#039;s friend types...and a cloth. If he knew one thing for certain about Devorah it was that she had a fastidious streak a mile long and as such, he cleaned up the spillage and removed the old flute, leaving the table clean again. <br /><br />Holding the fresh, clean glass between the knuckles of one handpaw, the jackal knelt on the seat at the hyena&#039;s shoulder and drove the corkscrew into the side of her neck, twisting it a couple of times...and then pulled it back out, quickly moving the glass up to the hole he&#039;d made...he was surprised to see a decent flow of warm, rich, red blood come out...seems there might still have been a flutter of life in the hyena &ndash; not that she&#039;d ever have woken up after Devorah had already drawn out so much of her essence before but...enough to fill the glass before the flow became a trickle and stopped. He set it back on the table, went for his notepad and scribbled, &ldquo;Fresh &amp; new&rdquo; on a piece of paper, putting that note underneath the glass as he placed it on the middle of the table. Something for her to return to. <br /><br />That done, he pulled on his shirt and jacket and went over to the door, just leaning his head out to look at the party...though made sure that none there could see that he was still stripped from the waist down. It looked to be thoroughly winding down now, Devorah was charming the remaining guests into leaving, from what he could see &ndash; a smile and a touch on the arm and a gentle ushering towards the door, large groups starting to gather their personal effects; they all had a look of disappointment that the party should be coming to a close, not knowing that they were, in truth, the lucky ones. <br /><br />He quietly shut the door and turned his attention back to the hyena, though cast his eyes over the caracal lying underneath the table and the arctic fox too, hardly forgetting their presence. Now, though, it was the hyena who hadn&#039;t had his attention and he hopped up on the seat, stroking his hands through the arctic fox&#039;s lush and luxurious tail as he stepped past her and lifted one leg up so that he had his paw beside the hyena&#039;s rump. With the way that she was half-lying over the edge of the seat&#039;s back, he was in a good position to give her black, brushy little tail a flick with his hand so that it was out of the way and lean over her, rubbing his sheath in between her full, pillow-soft buttocks until once more, he found himself engorged. Each time was like the first, he thought to himself, and reached down to his member, gripped it and angled it down, pressing the tip against the hyena&#039;s pucker...and pushed down, once again thrilling in the easy spread of her tailhole around his member, the unresisted ease with which he sank his shaft into her body and the sensation of give when he was hilted in her. <br /><br />More carefully than he had with the other two (he made sure that he had a hand on her side so that she didn&#039;t tumble all the way off the back of the seat) he started thrusting, slowly and lazily this time, no intensity to the jackal&#039;s motions, just an indolence verging on arrogance as he took her. She felt more like the ones that he&#039;d killed before he&#039;d had that meeting with Devorah all that time ago and he wondered if there was a cause for that as he rocked his hips back and forth into her, the pull of her spread anus as he dragged himself out of her and the wonderful semi-slack play of it as he sank back in soon urging him towards his climax. <br /><br />Straightening his back, he reached down and gripped her buttocks tightly, squeezing his&nbsp;&nbsp;fingers into them until his claws were almost piercing skin and thrust more forcefully into the dead hyena, her weight keeping her body stable and &ndash; his jaws parted and his tongue flopped out, the jackal&#039;s orgasm hitting him and he pushed himself down hard onto her, rolling his hips so that he could enjoy the spurting of his seed into her rump whilst fully inside of her...and as before, he immediately lost interest, dragging his member out of her with a slick pop of a sound, flicked her tail back down to hide the spread of her pucker and hopped down, nudging the caracal&#039;s head with his foot in passing. <br /><br />A stretch &ndash; a yawn, too. Three kills in one evening was unprecedented for him...but that didn&#039;t stop him from giving his member a rub as it slowly slipped back into his sheath, a swish of his silvery tail accompanying it...and when it was safely hidden in his fur again, he dressed &ndash; not bothering with the bow tie, not with the party nearly over. Still though &ndash; slacks, shirt and jacket all went on and, of course, his notepad went into his top pocket as it always did and, casting a look behind himself at the three victims, he took a deep breath, held it...and let it out in a satisfied sigh, slipping back through the door to the tail end of the party. <br /><br />Chapter Four: Last one standing. <br /><br />&ldquo;So I figured, hang around to the end and I&#039;ve got to be the winner. I mean, right here on your invite, Devvy, right here...&rdquo; <br /><br />The gazelle dug into her purse and fumbled around, completely missing the petite feline&#039;s wince at the over-familiarity. Indeed, she was the last remaining guest. Her welcome was overstayed but she was keen to explain herself and she produced the invite with a flourish. Gold-edged paper, of course, only the finest for one of Devorah&#039;s parties. <br /><br />&ldquo;See, here it is...&#039;cordially invited&#039; blah blah blah &#039;no plus one&#039; blah blah and then you&#039;ve written, &#039;A very special guest with a very special purpose.&#039; Well that&#039;s got to be that jackal in the tuxedo, right? And since I&#039;m the only guest left then I have to be the one who gets to find out what the very special purpose is. Just stands to reason, that does. So, no, I&#039;m not going to get into a taxi and go home, I want to see him one last time. Where is he anyway?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;That&#039;s a rather good question, darling,&rdquo; replied Devorah, looking towards the door, a little surprised despite knowing exactly what he&#039;d be up to that he&#039;d not resurfaced yet. She&#039;d managed to shepherd all the other guests out, each of them gushing about what a wonderful time they&#039;d had, a few muttering apologies for the behaviour of their friends, how rude of them to leave without saying goodbye to the host and more than one of them expressing their eagerness for another gathering soon, surely before the end of the summer? <br /><br />Now, just the gazelle remained, still with a silly little paper cone-hat on, perched nearly between her small horns. She must have brought that herself, Devorah knew she hadn&#039;t provided such silly, childish items for her party of sophistication and glitz and glamour. Moreover, in truth, the three of them had been enough for Devorah, she could feel her head swirling with the souls that she&#039;d consumed tonight &ndash; much like the jackal taking on three in such quick succession had been a heady experience, especially those three that she&#039;d picked out for them. <br /><br />On the other hand, this brash refusal to accept the end of the revelry (the other guests still non-the-wiser to the fate of the three that had been brought into the back room) was...an irritation to her, though she made a point of not showing any shortness to the stubborn gazelle. <br /><br />Well, if she really wanted to stay longer...<br /><br />The door swung open and the jackal stepped out, looking at least slightly dishevelled &ndash; only to be expected, really, though Devorah couldn&#039;t help but roll her eyes at him &ndash; half for the length of time it had taken to emerge and half for the manner of his dress. It wasn&#039;t, mind you, like she expected him to have the clothes on much longer and, when he started over towards her, she lifted her left hand and gave her little finger a curl and a twist, a signal that she knew he would recognise a mile off. A look a mild surprise passed over the jackal&#039;s expression but he didn&#039;t question the instruction, rather, he gave Devorah a quick nod.<br /><br />Still intent on proving her point to Devorah, the gazelle hadn&#039;t noticed the reappearance of the jackal, nor had she interpreted the little gesture from the feline as anything other than an affectation. <br /><br />Nor, then, did she notice the jackal as he crossed the room with a purpose &ndash; the first she knew was when he placed one hand onto one of her shoulders, the other coming around to the side of her face and pushing it so that her head was turned, making it easy for him to bring his jaws around and clamp them down on her throat, biting down hard enough to seal off her windpipe &ndash; the jackal and gazelle making a very nearly natural picture of predator and prey all of a sudden. She tried to leap up but the jackal quickly wrapped an arm around her body, pulling her backwards so that she was leaning against him and though she kicked and thrashed, her hooves clattering on the ground, she couldn&#039;t free herself. Her little mouth opened and she mouthed words reduced to a gurgling by the bite at her throat &ndash; her eyes wide and white and looking desperately at Devorah who stood up slowly, adjusted her dress and put a hand on one hip. <br /><br />Still moving with that elegant slowness that characterised all her motion, the small feline stepped up close to the gazelle and slid her small hands up the sides of the gazelle&#039;s body as she squirmed in the jackal&#039;s strangling bite &ndash; then slid them around the back to find the zip to her dress, pulling it down and peeling the garment off of the gazelle even as her eyes started to roll up into the back of her head, drawing it down her slender legs and off of her hooves &ndash; unsurprised to see that the gazelle had been wearing nothing else. Now her beautifully patterned fur was on display, her white underside, the stark, jet black stripes on her sides and the tawny brown of the rest of her. Another gurgle caught Devorah&#039;s attention and she started to speak. <br /><br />As she spoke, she started to fuss over the jackal, slipping his jackal off (he lifted his arms out backwards to help her with that), unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it away and finally, undoing his belt and pulling his slacks down, which he stepped out of gladly, never for a moment losing the grip he had on the gazelle&#039;s neck. <br /><br />&ldquo;When you&#039;re invited to leave, you should really go,&rdquo; she said, quietly and gently, &ldquo;Just being somewhere doesn&#039;t give you any right to success. I imagine you&#039;re just the sort to scowl and spit venom when someone who&#039;s been at your job less time than you gets that promotion because they&#039;re just plain better than you? As if being somewhere longer gives you any right.&rdquo; She practically hissed those last two words, which was impressive, given that they weren&#039;t words designed for hissing. The jackal gave the gazelle&#039;s shoulder a push and let her swing around on the her hoof so that she was dangling from his jaws, the front of her neck pulled forwards, her head dangling backwards. Her hands still twitched and grabbed at nothing, her little tail was still tucked tight between her legs...<br /><br />Devorah lifted her hand to the jackal&#039;s jaws and pushed her fingers in underneath his lips, feeling where his teeth were gripping, stroking the grip he had on the gazelle&#039;s throat in a way that made his mouth move in a very peculiar manner. <br /><br />&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; she said, giving him a curt instruction as if he were a pet. The jackal turned his blue eyes towards her but didn&#039;t give any hint of discontent at being spoken to like that &ndash; after all, why would he? A mouth full of gazelle throat, her body swinging limply from his jaws, a wonderful weight to bear, he&#039;s just waiting for the follow up instruction. &ldquo;Let her see what she waited for. Room for one more?&rdquo; <br /><br />If he didn&#039;t have a killer&#039;s bite on the gazelle, the jackal would&#039;ve grinned at that, as it is, he shifts his weight and pulls the gazelle along with him, following Devorah towards the back room. The gazelle&#039;s hooves made a scraping sound on the floor as she was pulled, her head lolling limply and her tongue hanging out now &ndash; he loosened his grip on her windpipe a little to allow her a little wheezing gasp in...just enough so that she would hang on to see the room.<br /><br />The gazelle squirmed a bit more but that tiny bit of oxygen wasn&#039;t enough to give her any fight...he dragged her by the throat through the door, pulled her over to the table and abruptly letting go of her neck, he slung her around so that she fell face-first onto the table, leaning over her back to push his hand down hard on the back of her neck so that she didn&#039;t get a chance to breath. The gazelle&#039;s eyes, wide and bloodshot now flicked around in clear horror at seeing the hyena, sprawled half over the back of the curved bench-seat, the arctic fox with the knife in the back of her neck &ndash; whether or not the gazelle knew anything about the caracal was another matter for Devorah sat herself down across from her, took a moment to read the jackal&#039;s note and give him an appreciative glance and then reached out, wrapping her fingers around one of the gazelle&#039;s horns to lift her head up off the table. <br /><br />With her other hand, she lifted her champagne flute and took a sip and turned her head to look at the hyena&#039;s lolling head behind her, then back to the jackal with a raised eyebrow. He was pushing himself back up off the gazelle, confident from the dangle of her tongue, the heaviness of her head in Devorah&#039;s grasp and her starting, unblinking eyes that she was dead and nodded once, confirming that it was, indeed, the hyena&#039;s blood. Devorah took another genteel sip and then took a deep inhale. <br /><br />Before she began though, the jackal reached forwards and pulled the party hat off the gazelle&#039;s head &ndash; and, holding it in one hand, he reached down to his crotch and gave his sheath a squeeze, pushing his member, not quite all the way erect, out &ndash; placing the hat on it and waggling it about. The look of cool amusement on Devorah&#039;s face was good enough for him &ndash; he opened his jaws and let his tongue hang out and then put the hat on his head, reaching down to the gazelle&#039;s buttocks, squeezing them with his fingers, rubbing his thumbs about on the inside, then used his thumbs to flick her tail up out of his way, exposing her slit and, more pertinently to him, her tailhole, a nice pink pucker nestled in velvety black fur. <br /><br />He didn&#039;t wait for any invite; rather, just took his member and gave it a shake &ndash; still a little flop in it...and nevertheless pushed the tip against the gazelle&#039;s pucker...the thumbed himself into her, stepping up and once inside &ndash; yes, the tightness and the warmth of her passage swiftly stiffened him up. Gripping her hips, he set about very, very lackadaisically thrusting into her, barely rocking the gazelle body on the table. There was absolutely no urgency in the jackal at all. <br /><br />Similarly so for Devorah, she took another deep breath...and then started to draw the gazelle&#039;s soul out of her, a magnificent green colour, swirls of yellow in there too, bright, vivid, lurid and...streaks of red came from the side of the hyena&#039;s mouth. He&#039;d been right, there&#039;d been a bit of life left in her when he&#039;d dug the corkscrew into her neck &ndash; a little flutter that he&#039;d killed off. Both the vivid green and yellow and the darker streams of red mingled together in Devorah&#039;s mouth, a cocktail of two souls that very obviously thrilled her from the way her huge long tail shifted around in the seat, lifting and swaying and dropping down again. <br /><br />Both of them as languorously as the other took their pleasure from the gazelle &ndash; Devorah drawing her soul and consuming it like she was yawning, the jackal rolling his hips and thrusting into her anus...the dark room lit by the brightness of Devorah&#039;s soul-drawing and the sounds of the jackal&#039;s fucking the only noise apart from Devorah&#039;s satisfied little mewls. <br /><br />It&#039;s the jackal who finishes first, gripping the gazelle&#039;s hips and squeezing and pushing his knot into her, delivering his load and pulling himself out without much ceremony, sitting down on the end of the table and, leaning over, he licked his cock clean again, done for the night for certain. By the time he&#039;d turned around, only a final dim streak of green was floating from the gazelle&#039;s eyes to Devorah&#039;s mouth who, snatching it with a click of her teeth, immediately stretched her arms up, gave a massive yawn and simply lay down on the seat, curling up contentedly with her tail around her to sleep, typically feline. <br /><br />He reached up and pulled the paper hat off his head, crumpling it in one hand; the party was over. <br /><br />Epilogue: Bad news on the doorstep.<br /><br />He made a point of standing there, tired as he was &ndash; he could barely stand the brightness of the sun but you had to make sure that these things were done properly. The white shirt that he&#039;d worn to the party was now tucked into a pair of jeans as the jackal waited patiently beside the dumpster, leaning on it with one elbow. Right on time, the truck arrived, billowing filthy exhaust fumes out the back and pulled up, engine rattling and brakes grinding; the jackal narrowed his eyes as the waft of diesel and oil washed over him. <br /><br />A familiar face climbed out &ndash; an alarmingly pink, heavy-bodied dragon, dressed in overalls that were covered in grime &ndash; a dragon who, importantly knew how to take money and not ask too many question. The jackal patted the side of the dumpster and stepped over to the dragon, silently passing over a roll of cash that more than silenced the sort of questions that could normally be asked. A nod passed between them and the pink dragon got back into his truck, turned it around and backed it up towards the dumpster. The jackal stayed to watch as it was hoisted up onto the truck and secured and only when the truck drove off did he move away. <br /><br />No sense in going back in, he&#039;d had a couple of hours kip and when he&#039;d woken up, he&#039;d been alone with the four dead girls &ndash; he knew the expectation (though that hadn&#039;t stopped him from having one more turn on the hyena, knowing that she was going to be the hardest to get into the dumpster he&#039;d taken care of his morning arousal on her before hefting her body out) and now that all was cleaned up, it&#039;d be Devorah who contacted him, not the other way around. <br /><br />Hell, even the sight of an early-morning jogged didn&#039;t tempt him. On another day he&#039;d have been tempted, given that the street was empty and she had headphones in, clearly not paying attention ot the world around her but it was her lucky day. He was spent &ndash; for now, at least. <br /><br /></span>",
  "pools_count": 0,
  "title": "What happens out back...",
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