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Desperate for a buck, she takes an offer to entertain in some club, not realizing how intense some of the members are. \n\nA commission for anonymous. You can find stories like this and more over on my [url=https://www.patreon.com/c/Ralanrwrites]Patreon[/url] and/or [url=https://subscribestar.adult/ralanr]Subscribestar[/url]. \n\nEnjoy!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Tris is a lowlife who is down on her luck. Desperate for a buck, she takes an offer to entertain in some club, not realizing how intense some of the members are.

A commission for anonymous. You can find stories like this and more over on my Patreon and/or Subscribestar.

Enjoy!", "writing": " Tris flipped the business card through her fingers. It’d been a month since she’d been handed it. Little did she know it’d be a precursor for the worst month of her life. \n \n The doberman had lived an interesting life. Kicked out of her home at seventeen, she’d been forced to make ends meet doing odd jobs for odd people. By her early twenties she’d taken to the road on someone else’s bike, trading it in for something better when she was three states away. From there she went on a string of petty larcenies and assaults, earned herself a spot in a crew she eventually outlasted, and eventually retired from the road to run protection rackets for small businesses. It didn’t matter that she was playing into the stereotype of the aggressive dog, she needed money and had the skills for it. The military would have been perfect if she knew how to cave to authority.\n \n Well, and another reason but she broke the recruiter’s jaw when he brought it up. \n \n Now in her late forties, Tris had a relatively stable life. Sure, she never expected to settle down in Michigan, but the state was big enough to find privacy and didn’t have too many competitors in her business as compared to Texas, New York, or California. There were enough small towns filled with mom and pop shops to shake down and local cops just corrupt enough to turn the other way if she slipped a crisp benjamin their way. \n \n All was going fine until her bike got wrecked in an accident. What exactly happened was a blur. First, she was on the highway on her way to shake down some card shop for their monthly fee and the next she was in the hospital with several scrapes, a dislocated shoulder, and a bill worth ten times the stitches. Not to mention her totaled bike costs. \n \n Always a quick healer, the arm healed up fine in the month. Her savings didn’t, and it was hard to intimidate or bribe people with one arm in a sling. Someone at the hospital slipped her the business card with a note saying it might help with her expenses. It was a blank black card with ‘The Burrow’ spelled out in white text on one side and a phone number on the back. She’d dialed the number last night, and now she was out in some Kalamazoo parking garage in the middle of a winter evening. She bunched up her leather jacket tight and swore, the wafting white breath reminding her of habits she’d long abandoned. \n \n A black van with illegally tinted windows rolled up. It flashed its highlights three times, just like the voice on the other end of the call said it would. She responded with the devil horned wave, contemplating adding a middle finger for the stupidity of the selected signal. Criminals don’t make things overly complicated. It’s easier to bribe cops to look the other way or use their exhaustion. After all, most crimes went unsolved. \n \n The van parked next to her and three helmeted men walked out. Tris tensed for a fight until she saw the suitcase. Another held out a phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. \n \n “Hello, Tris?” the voice on the end asked. The same voice she’d spoken to prior. “Are you there? The phone’s camera is disabled so I can’t turn on facetime.”\n \n “Yeah, I’m here,” Tris looked to the guard with a look of confusion. The blank motorcycle helmet shared nothing. “What’s with the goons?”\n \n “Oh, how old fashioned. These are my employees and your chauffeurs should you agree to the contract. If you sign, everything in the suitcase is yours from the start.” At that the suitcase opened, revealing a lush pile of green bills. “A full quarter of what you’ll get if you complete the terms.”\n \n The pile didn’t look impressive until she heard it was a quarter of what they were offering. “Right…and what exactly am I signing up for? I don’t kill people if that’s what you’re asking.”\n \n The voice chuckled. “Kill? Tris, I’m not some paranoid nut who wants people dead. No, I just want you as entertainment for a party I’m hosting.”\n \n “Entertainment? What am I, some hooker?”\n \n “Do you want the polite answer or the truthful one?”\n \n “Fuck off.”\n \n The voice sighed, “To be blunt, you match a type that’s been requested and I am willing to pay handsomely for your presence. Time isn’t on our side so if you want the money I suggest you sign this paper. I can guarantee no permanent harm will come to you and there is a safeword clause if you’re unsure.”\n \n The third goon offered her a clipboard with the contract. Tris skimmed it, taking note that any medical care fees would be waived from her pay, but she’d not receive any pay if she used the safeword. Tris hadn’t pimped before though she’d acted as the muscle for one once. Realistically she’d been pimping herself for violence until she started running her protection racket. She’d had enough beatings to know how to deal with pain. And the money was too tempting to give up.\n \n “Signed,” she said for the voice on the line before handing it to one goon. “Now what?” The goon holding the phone ended the call and pulled out a small sack, just the size for someone's head. He tossed it to her and, with a robotic voice, told her to put it on. “Why?”\n \n “Privacy,” he said, tapping the watch on his arm. “Hurry up.”\n \n Reluctantly Tris pulled the bag over her head. The goons led her to the van and buckled her inside, sitting in silence on the ride over. She guessed it’d been an hour when they stopped, and judging from the warmth they’d parked inside a garage when they walked her out. \n \n When they pulled the mask off she came face to face with a white wolf in a formal suit and a black opera mask shaped in the likeness of a bunny. She assumed this was the guy until he spoke in a voice completely different. “This way to the changing room.”\n \n While never the most observant hound, Tris noticed something odd with the staff. For one, they were all predators; canines, felines, bears, really anything with fangs or claws. Each wore a similar black rabbit mask but their uniforms were as varied as the help in a high-class hotel. The creeping sense that she didn’t belong bit at the nape of her neck. Like every other time that happened she pushed it down through sheer willpower.\n \n The wolf opened a door leading into a tiled bathroom. “Your uniform for the evening is on the bench. I advise you to be thorough with the cleaning.” He closed the door behind her before Tris could ask what he meant. On the nearest wooden bench, sitting beside a hamper, were four leather cuffs, a matching collar, and a small bottle filled with saline water and a hard blastic rod on top.\n \n “Well, fuck.” Tris said, realizing what kind of party she signed up for. \n \n ***\n \n The wolf butler adjusted her collar when she left, making sure it was tight enough not to jump around as she walked but loose enough to breathe. She still felt it with every breath, but that might have been the point of the damn thing. When he offered to lead her by the leash she barred her teeth with a low growl. “Appearances are important, ma’am. If you wish to get paid.”\n \n “I already cleaned myself out, what more do you want?”\n \n “Me? Nothing. My patron? Well, what are you willing to sell?” He held out the clipping end of the leash, waiting for her approval. She relented, trying not to think about how ridiculous it was. Tris knew enough people who’d liked the idea of a leash, but Tris’s level of kink never involved wearing it herself. The closest thing she’d worn was the spiked choker that got her kicked out. \n \n After another hallway of masked preds scurrying about they reached a wide doubledoor with the name, “The Burrow” atop it. Tris’s ears twitched with the synthetic pop music echoing through the door as they approached. \n \n “Before we step inside, I want to be clear that you are to comply with any request if you want to be paid fully. Refusal and you will be asked to leave. Hurt any of the guests, and you will lose what we’re already given you.”\n \n “I thought that was mine already?”\n \n “It’s in the contract.”\n \n Figures. Tris rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”\n \n Behind the doors laid out a red leather room with black furniture standing defiant. The smell of sweat and sex hit her nose before she noticed the furs parading in leather, from tigers serving drinks to bears taking it in the ass. Grunts of pleasure, pain, and the thwack of corporal tools rebounded off the walls. \n \n Bunnies filled the room. Not like the help and not in masks. Some were finely dressed like they were at some billionaire dinner party, others decked in leather or latex gear that revealed or accentuated their privates, and plenty were simply naked with their junk free for all to see. \n \n The butler held a finger to his lips the moment she tried to speak. “Speak only when spoken to. Make no comments. You are here for entertainment, not for your personality.” \n \n If it weren’t for the money on the line she’d have cussed him out at best and bloodied his nose at worst for daring to speak like that to her. But Tris wasn’t a young punk anymore. She knew sometimes it was better to shut up and go along. Besides, the fuckfest around her was quite a show and got her cock rising faster than she expected. If all she needed to do was fuck a few bunnies, then by all means she would. \n \n He latched her to a hook on a nearby wall and commanded Tris to kneel. She did so with the thought of smashing his skull later. Not long after he left, a rabbit in a fine suit came by and requested her to stand. “Is that the hardest you can get?” He asked, speaking with the polite tone of someone not used to getting their way. \n \n “Course not,” Tris said casually, “Try getting on your knees, that’ll do the trick.”\n His face soured but he said nothing on his way out, returning with a tiger crawling on his hands and knees. Tris blinked, watching the tiger subserviently service her cock in his warm maw. She bit her lip, having forgotten how nice someone’s tongue felt against her shaft. The rabbit pulled him away, letting her full erection bounce in the air before grabbing it himself with white gloves and pumping until she came. Her spunk filled a wine glass halfway, which he swirled then sampled like some vineyard tour. \n \n “Nothing to write home about.” The rabbit wiped his chin with a handkerchief and walked off. Tris saw the tiger left before, leaving her alone on the wall with a wet cock and a mind buzzed with dopamine. \n \n The rabbits used her like a prop. Some just cupped her balls or tits as if gauging interest, others poked and prodded, with one even asking her to turn around to a smack on her rear. There was humiliation and there was whatever this was, to the point where Tris started snarling at any bunnies that came close. It scared most off, and turned any hard cocks soft on their approach. Then she heard a voice she’d thought to never hear again.\n \n “Tris? Darling, that you?”\n \n A pair of bunnies approached her. The larger was a brown furred bunny rivaling Tris height without the ears and had a wide stomach bulging underneath his firm chest. He was dressed in leather almost like a biker, except his chaps were assless to help expose the thong that left little to the imagination, his leather vest hung free, and the peaked cap seemed several decades out of fashion. Though he was led by a collar and leash, the one holding it didn’t treat him like her lesser. White fur rolled under a black leather corset and down to five-inch healed boots. She wore a matching peaked cap that accentuated her long blonde hair. She may have been a foot shorter than Tris but those red eyes made anyone in their presence small when needed. \n \n “Holy shit, it is,” Allison said, pulling her husband’s leash taut as they drew closer. “Haven’t seen you since Salt Lake City. What brought you here?”\n \n Her husband, Jack, gave a knowing smile. “I think we know why she’s here, love.”\n She elbowed him. “It’s polite to ask. Especially if you have history.”\n \n Their history wasn’t pleasant. They’d crossed several times in Tris’s younger days on the road, often as rivals, sometimes in friendly terms. She knew Jack before Allison, but Allison’s reputation in the Frel’s Valkyries preceded her. Only the brave or the dumb courted the sadist, and Tris had to watch her friend play both for the bitch for years. Worse still, he looked happier with her even now. \n \n “What are you all doing here?” She asked them. Last Tris heard of them neither had the cash for a club like this. Not unless ‘Electrical Engineer’ and ‘Nurse’ were lies. \n \n “Saved the club owner’s mom once. He offered us a membership free of charge and while we don’t use it often there are nights when we want a third between us.” The white bunny looped her fingers around Tris’s leash. “What do you think, Jack? She meet your standards?”\n \n “No, but seeing her brings up memories. Like Fresno.”\n \n “Really? I was thinking of Austin.”\n \n He grinned. “Oh, Austin was bad, wasn’t it?”\n \n Tris gulped. A few sour deals with a few hurt friends. “Look, if you both need money.”\n Allison laughed. “Your money is the last thing I’d ever take, Tris. But if you wanna settle some scores…” She unclipped the leash from the wall, “I’d be more than happy to take my pound of flesh.”\n \n “Now, now,” Jack said, acting as a wall between Tris and his sadistic wife, “I’m sure we can come to a reasonable deal here. Wouldn’t want poor Tris here to suffer without an attempt at redemption.” The way he smiled implied he didn’t care so much for redemption. Rather, he saw an opportunity. The knot of Tris’s cock refused to deflate despite her concerns. \n \n “W-What do you have in mind?” Tris asked. \n \n Both bunnies grinned and shared a glance. Allison spoke up. “Been a long time since my hubby’s gotten any throat action. We can let bygones be bygones if you can reach his base without help.”\n \n Tris gulped. Back on the road Jack’s dick had the unfortunate nickname of ‘wombwerecker’. While she didn’t have a womb to wreck, she’d seen firsthand why it deserved that name.\n \n She forced a smile. “You telling me you don’t suck your husband off?”\n \n Allison’s grin didn’t falter but her eyes said plenty. “I decide how my husband’s meat gets beat, Tris.” \n \n Tris agreed with the offer. She couldn’t say no without losing her payday, and figured he’d gotten softer in his old age. Besides, Jack always struggled to get it up because of the sheer size. This shaky confidence fell apart when he took it out. \n \n They led her to a couch and forced her to her knees. Allison locked Tris’s wrists behind her back before saddling up with her husband, keeping the doberman’s leash taut. Even soft, Jack’s cock dwarfed Tris’s. She was average at best, whereas Jack was over double her size and thicker by a half. Every anxious breath she took sucked in his scent until she could taste it on the roof of her mouth. Allison angled it just over the doberman’s head, letting the weapon between her husband’s legs cast a shadow over the regretful doberman. \n \n “H-How…” Tris gulped. \n \n Jack looked to his wife, currently nestled in his arm, “The love of the right woman makes all the difference.”\n \n “Oh, darling, don’t be so modest,” Allison laughed, dropping her tone to a chill when she added, “Not like I spent years teaching it what happens if it’s too soft.”\n \n The solid pound of meat pulsed against Tris’s face when Allison said that. For a moment she saw genuine fear spark across Jack’s face, followed by the biggest blush of a lughead in love. \n \n “But tonight’s not the night for that,” Allison said, patting her husband’s chest before eyeing Tris. “Come on. Show us what that big mouth of yours can do.”\n \n Clenching the fists locked behind her, Tris gulped and pulled back to embrace her lips against his cockhead. Salty precum and sweat dance along her tongue with every lather of the pink head. Jack held his cock by the base for Tris as she sank down it, straining her jaw to take it inside. \n \n Tris rarely gave head. She received it plenty, often from people too broke to pay her immediately. She knew enough not to let her teeth scratch flesh and to breathe through her nose, but the weight of his cock against her tongue and the ever-present taste made it difficult to get past the first inch. She closed her eyes to focus, not daring to meet either bunny’s gaze. \n \n “What’s the matter, Tris? Too much of a mouthful?” Allison said with the same soft barbs as a midwestern housewife. The doberman tried to pull back to tell her to piss off, but Jack reached out to keep her head on task. \n \n “Think she might need a little help, hun,” Jack said, “That would rescind the deal, wouldn’t it?”\n \n “It would.” Allison’s grin sent chills down Tris’s spine, “But, then again, that was going to happen, wasn’t it? She always liked to bite off more than she could chew.”\n \n The white rabbit slinked around and clasped Tris’s sack from underneath. Once she was satisfied that the doberman wouldn’t make any movements, she ordered her husband to bring her their bag. He returned soon with a black dufflebag that had a metallic clank rattle inside when he tossed it to the floor. \n \n “Shame they don’t make them in my size. We’ll have to use the spreader.” Jack sorted through the bag until he pulled out a gag that, instead of a ball or ring, had metal bars he latched under Tris’s teeth. “Wish that custom order pussy gag came in.”\n \n “I still think that thing looks ridiculous,” Allison said, unlatching Tris’s bindings only to replace them with two pairs of handcuffs, a cuff on each hand with two cuffs locked around her sack like a humbler device. \n \n “Of course, it looks ridiculous. That’s half the fun. You telling me no one we fool around with would like the added humiliation of their mouth holding a pocket pussy?”\n \n Allison relented with a sigh and let go of Tris’s balls in favor of grabbing her head. The metal bars behind the doberman’s teeth were adjusted with a tiny winch, spreading Tris’s jaw farther than she ever could have on her own. Jack settled his cock back down on her tongue, taking an open invitation to sink inside while Allison held her jaw steady. \n \n “Small little swallows, bitch,” the white rabbit whispered, holding Tris steady when her struggles began, “You’re taking everything because my husband deserves going hilt-deep into some traitor’s throat. And if he doesn’t,” she leaned down to clasp the sack yet again, “I’ll walk out with this around my neck.”\n \n After a minute of gagging powered by fear, unwanted arousal, and Allison’s arms, Tris’s wet nose braced the sweaty folds at the base of Jack’s cock. She let her husband take hold, leaving Allison to go through her back for something just out of Tris’s gaze. It was hard enough to focus with over twelve inches of fat cock down her throat, but her ears stood up in fright when she heard something slice through the wind. \n \n The first strike cracked across her ass, just high enough to avoid the balls but hard enough for the tug on the cuffs to make her hate the humbler. \n \n “Oh, did that hurt? How? I couldn’t kill a fly with that.” Allison lied, no doubt smiling with a sadistic grin as she laid down more strikes. She avoided Tri’s sack, at least until she decided it was better to yank, pull, and hammer it with a balled fist. Much softer than the cane but the difference in pain was negligible. Tris’s cheeks were matted from tears and her throat burned by the time Jack had pulled out. \n \n “I think it’s the angle,” Jack said, casually bopping his bludgeon of a cock against Tris’s face as he spoke. “Think we could get her on her back?”\n \n “I think we can find a table. Help me set her up.” The pair hoisted Tris up and uncuffed her sack only to lock her arms against one another like a straitjacket without the jacket. Allison kept a tight grip on the doberman’s balls to keep her docile, leading her along by them until they reached an adjustable gynecologist chair in the middle of the dungeon. Think brown furred arms pulled her over the table and leather straps locked her in place and spread her legs open, leaving her underside exposed. \n \n “Well, ain’t that a surprise.” Allison clasped Tris’s full erection as her husband started cranking the chair to lay the doberman out flat. The rabbit’s grip was tight and she squeezed with slow pumps. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this. I hope not, I hate masochists.” Her fingers flicked Tris’s cockring like a discarded booger. Tris winced at every fruitless attempt to fling her piercing off. \n \n Jack’s heavy hand rested upon the doberman’s shoulder. “I sure hope not. There’s only one masochist my wife enjoys playing with.” \n \n “And it ain’t my husband,” Allison clarified, “Don’t pull her head back yet. I want her to see what I’ve got planned.”\n \n Jack leaned Tris’s head forward to witness a black leather case pulled from their duffel bag. Inside were several metallic rods, each thicker than the last. Her eyes went wide when she saw Allison pull one out, ears flaring and head shaking for what was about to happen. \n \n “Oh good, you know what a sounding rod is. Jack, have your fun.”\n \n He arched her head back by her chin and unceremoniously plunged his cock into her forced open maw. A heavy hand held her throat like it was the shaft of his personal pocket pussy. Gagged winces turned to squeals as a lubed up sounding rode sank into the forbidden hole of her urethra, slowly sinking down with twists and the occasional pull back. Jack’s balls smacked her sensitive nose, sending shocks over her body and filling her nostrils with his musk. \n \n For one moment that expanded eternity she felt bliss. Bliss of pleasure through pain and humiliation. Little could be heard over her slobbering gags, the wet plapping of his thighs against her face, or the struggle of her restraints, but she did hear Allison say not to finish in her mouth. Or she convinced herself the bunny said it. \n \n The rod sent her nerves on fire from touch. Allison replaced it with a bigger one until it almost became unbearable from the sensitivity. That’s when she tied it down to Tris’s piercing, forcing it in place so she could focus on her next endeavor; two lubed up rubber fingers slipping into her backside. \n \n “Not as tight as I thought. With a little work Jack might just fit.” \n \n The two fingers spread wide and circled her inner walls. Then came a third, followed by a fourth then a fifth until the rabbit’s hand was little different from a spear making its way with Tris’s backside. The digits writhed into her spread ass, curling up into a fist that slowly punched her gut as Allison pushed her wrist up inside. \n \n Jack pulled out when his wife did, leaving Tris coughing and wincing whilst trying not to move her cock. Every little movement made the sounding rod electrify her nerves. Allison noticed this and flicked it with her lubed hand. Her husband, meanwhile, used Tris’s face and neck to clean the saliva off his cock. \n \n The two lovers during Tris’s minor reprieve. Satisfied, Allison readjusted the chair so that Tris’s upper body slopped down at an angle. Then she unlatched the doberman’s gag. “If you so much as mutter a peep that ain’t your safeword, I’ll use that sounding rod as a lightning rod.” Tris nodded, resting her aching jaw as the bunny positioned her cunt over her nose. Droplets of desire dripped over his face.\n \n Despite the stretching Jack’s cock didn’t sink in easily. Strong hands held her thighs like the handles of a motorbike, gripping tight as his fat phallus spread her loosened ring wide. Her maw gapped open in silence. Her body froze from what felt like a warmblooded baseball bat filling her backside. \n \n “Crazy, ain’t it?” Allison mused, sinking her wet and gaped pussy down over Tris’s face. “That wombwrecker gave me three beautiful children and years of joy as my punching bag. But my man’s an assman, and even I got my limits in pleasing him. So, apologies, but he’s gonna use that hole for all its worth.”\n \n Tris felt the husband’s fingers imprint on her thigh. Her muffles were muted by Allison’s thighs, with every attempt earning her another taste of the woman’s muff until it became clear what she was supposed to do. Experience gave her little talent for it. Desperation made up the difference. \n \n Allison pulled, twisted, and pinched the doberman’s tits while Jack laid his cock down her hole. He did not care if Tris’s prostate was getting crushed or if the sounding rod ruined her orgasms, he used her slowly and carefully to enjoy each second inside her. His speed increased only at his wife’s behest when she pulled him close by the collar for a kiss. The two forgot about the person between them, treating her more as a marital aid for a kinky night between old lovers. She was meat. Fuckmeat. And Tris wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the short lucid moments she had.\n \n Hot seed filled her insides but he didn’t stop. His slowing rhythm was short-lived with Allison’s growl. “Keep fucking,” she hissed with passion. “Don’t you dare stop using my cock.”\n \n “Yes…yes mistress,” Jack said, breathless. He winced and waned, as if her sensitive dick tried to pull him from trance. \n \n “Your pain is my pleasure. You don’t stop until I say so.” Allison went from torturing Tris’s tits to pulling and twisting her husband’s pecks in between nipping his neck.\n \n She drenched Tris’s maw when she came, hugging her husband close and muffling her screams with a hard bite of his neck. He muffled his cries through bit lips and finally stopped, hilting the entirety of his heavy rod inside the doberman’s body. \n \n Tris herself writhed in agonizing pleasure. Wave after wave rippled through her body but the sounding rod hampered her release. Not even a drizzle of seed slipped past it, leaving it to die in his sack to be pissed out later. She didn’t care. Tris greedily drank the air once Allison lifted herself off. Her shudder broke her voice when the rabbit withdrew the rod, making her squeal with a final twist and thrust of the two before removing it completely. \n \n In a fugue state she noticed them removing her restraints. Jack lifted her over his shoulders, carrying her across the room to rest on a couch. Before she knew it a water bottle had been handed to her. Aching jaws opened to guzzle it down.\n \n “The piercing is new,” Allison said, pointing to the cockring piercing Tris had. Tris looked at her funny, eyebrow raised as though the two hadn’t just beat her into an inch of her life through orgasmic overflow. The white rabbit grinned and fluttered her eyes, all sadism seemingly erased by a mother of three. “Maybe next time I can lead you by it,” she said in the same cadence of a woman gossiping with her friends. \n \n Jack snorted. “Hun, you’re confusing her.”\n \n “Tris ain’t that dumb.”\n \n “No, but she’s coming out of subspace. You know better.”\n \n Allison sighed with a roll of her eyes. She glared at another bunny approaching, their hand outstretched to grab Tris’s leash. She held Tris’s thigh protectively while Jack told the rabbit that they were still having their fun with Tris. \n \n “Sorry, I thought you were done.” The rabbit protested.\n \n “It’s called aftercare, pal. You can see her later.” \n \n ***\n The ceiling of her apartment wall had grown familiar to Tris over the past few days. The payout settled her debts and gave her plenty leftover to rest up, but that wasn’t why she found herself struggling to leave her bed every morning since that night. \n \n Her ass ached, her cockhole burned, her jaw still clenched, but there were no signs anything was wrong. She knew about ghost limb syndrome and wondered if ghost orifice syndrome existed alongside it. None of the pain was even painful. She couldn’t describe it well, but it felt more like a calling. A desire to experience it again. \n \n The protection rackets she ran were lost causes without motivation and that fell down the drain. The calculations in her head made it clear that if she didn’t get any income soon she’d run out of the leftovers from The Burrow. Yet she seemed more occupied experimenting with tying her balls up and spanking it while jerking off than going out. \n \n Her doorbell rang. Naked and bored, she willed herself to get up. Still naked, she noticed a single card had been slipped through the mailslot. \n \n She picked it up, saw the Burrows symbol, flipped it over, and grinned as she reached for her phone. \n \n “Same place,” the voice on the other line said. “Tonight. Clear out your schedule this week.”\n \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "       Tris flipped the business card through her fingers. It’d been a month since she’d been handed it. Little did she know it’d be a precursor for the worst month of her life.
      
       The doberman had lived an interesting life. Kicked out of her home at seventeen, she’d been forced to make ends meet doing odd jobs for odd people. By her early twenties she’d taken to the road on someone else’s bike, trading it in for something better when she was three states away. From there she went on a string of petty larcenies and assaults, earned herself a spot in a crew she eventually outlasted, and eventually retired from the road to run protection rackets for small businesses. It didn’t matter that she was playing into the stereotype of the aggressive dog, she needed money and had the skills for it. The military would have been perfect if she knew how to cave to authority.
      
       Well, and another reason but she broke the recruiter’s jaw when he brought it up.
      
       Now in her late forties, Tris had a relatively stable life. Sure, she never expected to settle down in Michigan, but the state was big enough to find privacy and didn’t have too many competitors in her business as compared to Texas, New York, or California. There were enough small towns filled with mom and pop shops to shake down and local cops just corrupt enough to turn the other way if she slipped a crisp benjamin their way.
      
       All was going fine until her bike got wrecked in an accident. What exactly happened was a blur. First, she was on the highway on her way to shake down some card shop for their monthly fee and the next she was in the hospital with several scrapes, a dislocated shoulder, and a bill worth ten times the stitches. Not to mention her totaled bike costs.
      
       Always a quick healer, the arm healed up fine in the month. Her savings didn’t, and it was hard to intimidate or bribe people with one arm in a sling. Someone at the hospital slipped her the business card with a note saying it might help with her expenses. It was a blank black card with ‘The Burrow’ spelled out in white text on one side and a phone number on the back. She’d dialed the number last night, and now she was out in some Kalamazoo parking garage in the middle of a winter evening. She bunched up her leather jacket tight and swore, the wafting white breath reminding her of habits she’d long abandoned.
      
       A black van with illegally tinted windows rolled up. It flashed its highlights three times, just like the voice on the other end of the call said it would. She responded with the devil horned wave, contemplating adding a middle finger for the stupidity of the selected signal. Criminals don’t make things overly complicated. It’s easier to bribe cops to look the other way or use their exhaustion. After all, most crimes went unsolved.
      
       The van parked next to her and three helmeted men walked out. Tris tensed for a fight until she saw the suitcase. Another held out a phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker.
      
       “Hello, Tris?” the voice on the end asked. The same voice she’d spoken to prior. “Are you there? The phone’s camera is disabled so I can’t turn on facetime.”
      
       “Yeah, I’m here,” Tris looked to the guard with a look of confusion. The blank motorcycle helmet shared nothing. “What’s with the goons?”
      
       “Oh, how old fashioned. These are my employees and your chauffeurs should you agree to the contract. If you sign, everything in the suitcase is yours from the start.” At that the suitcase opened, revealing a lush pile of green bills. “A full quarter of what you’ll get if you complete the terms.”
      
       The pile didn’t look impressive until she heard it was a quarter of what they were offering. “Right…and what exactly am I signing up for? I don’t kill people if that’s what you’re asking.”
      
       The voice chuckled. “Kill? Tris, I’m not some paranoid nut who wants people dead. No, I just want you as entertainment for a party I’m hosting.”
      
       “Entertainment? What am I, some hooker?”
      
       “Do you want the polite answer or the truthful one?”
      
       “Fuck off.”
      
       The voice sighed, “To be blunt, you match a type that’s been requested and I am willing to pay handsomely for your presence. Time isn’t on our side so if you want the money I suggest you sign this paper. I can guarantee no permanent harm will come to you and there is a safeword clause if you’re unsure.”
      
       The third goon offered her a clipboard with the contract. Tris skimmed it, taking note that any medical care fees would be waived from her pay, but she’d not receive any pay if she used the safeword. Tris hadn’t pimped before though she’d acted as the muscle for one once. Realistically she’d been pimping herself for violence until she started running her protection racket. She’d had enough beatings to know how to deal with pain. And the money was too tempting to give up.
      
       “Signed,” she said for the voice on the line before handing it to one goon. “Now what?” The goon holding the phone ended the call and pulled out a small sack, just the size for someone's head. He tossed it to her and, with a robotic voice, told her to put it on. “Why?”
      
       “Privacy,” he said, tapping the watch on his arm. “Hurry up.”
      
       Reluctantly Tris pulled the bag over her head. The goons led her to the van and buckled her inside, sitting in silence on the ride over. She guessed it’d been an hour when they stopped, and judging from the warmth they’d parked inside a garage when they walked her out.
      
       When they pulled the mask off she came face to face with a white wolf in a formal suit and a black opera mask shaped in the likeness of a bunny. She assumed this was the guy until he spoke in a voice completely different. “This way to the changing room.”
      
       While never the most observant hound, Tris noticed something odd with the staff. For one, they were all predators; canines, felines, bears, really anything with fangs or claws. Each wore a similar black rabbit mask but their uniforms were as varied as the help in a high-class hotel. The creeping sense that she didn’t belong bit at the nape of her neck. Like every other time that happened she pushed it down through sheer willpower.
      
       The wolf opened a door leading into a tiled bathroom. “Your uniform for the evening is on the bench. I advise you to be thorough with the cleaning.” He closed the door behind her before Tris could ask what he meant. On the nearest wooden bench, sitting beside a hamper, were four leather cuffs, a matching collar, and a small bottle filled with saline water and a hard blastic rod on top.
      
       “Well, fuck.” Tris said, realizing what kind of party she signed up for.
      
       ***
      
       The wolf butler adjusted her collar when she left, making sure it was tight enough not to jump around as she walked but loose enough to breathe. She still felt it with every breath, but that might have been the point of the damn thing. When he offered to lead her by the leash she barred her teeth with a low growl. “Appearances are important, ma’am. If you wish to get paid.”
      
       “I already cleaned myself out, what more do you want?”
      
       “Me? Nothing. My patron? Well, what are you willing to sell?” He held out the clipping end of the leash, waiting for her approval. She relented, trying not to think about how ridiculous it was. Tris knew enough people who’d liked the idea of a leash, but Tris’s level of kink never involved wearing it herself. The closest thing she’d worn was the spiked choker that got her kicked out.
      
       After another hallway of masked preds scurrying about they reached a wide doubledoor with the name, “The Burrow” atop it. Tris’s ears twitched with the synthetic pop music echoing through the door as they approached.
      
       “Before we step inside, I want to be clear that you are to comply with any request if you want to be paid fully. Refusal and you will be asked to leave. Hurt any of the guests, and you will lose what we’re already given you.”
      
       “I thought that was mine already?”
      
       “It’s in the contract.”
      
       Figures. Tris rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
      
       Behind the doors laid out a red leather room with black furniture standing defiant. The smell of sweat and sex hit her nose before she noticed the furs parading in leather, from tigers serving drinks to bears taking it in the ass. Grunts of pleasure, pain, and the thwack of corporal tools rebounded off the walls.
      
       Bunnies filled the room. Not like the help and not in masks. Some were finely dressed like they were at some billionaire dinner party, others decked in leather or latex gear that revealed or accentuated their privates, and plenty were simply naked with their junk free for all to see.
      
       The butler held a finger to his lips the moment she tried to speak. “Speak only when spoken to. Make no comments. You are here for entertainment, not for your personality.”
      
       If it weren’t for the money on the line she’d have cussed him out at best and bloodied his nose at worst for daring to speak like that to her. But Tris wasn’t a young punk anymore. She knew sometimes it was better to shut up and go along. Besides, the fuckfest around her was quite a show and got her cock rising faster than she expected. If all she needed to do was fuck a few bunnies, then by all means she would.
      
       He latched her to a hook on a nearby wall and commanded Tris to kneel. She did so with the thought of smashing his skull later. Not long after he left, a rabbit in a fine suit came by and requested her to stand. “Is that the hardest you can get?” He asked, speaking with the polite tone of someone not used to getting their way.
      
       “Course not,” Tris said casually, “Try getting on your knees, that’ll do the trick.”
       His face soured but he said nothing on his way out, returning with a tiger crawling on his hands and knees. Tris blinked, watching the tiger subserviently service her cock in his warm maw. She bit her lip, having forgotten how nice someone’s tongue felt against her shaft. The rabbit pulled him away, letting her full erection bounce in the air before grabbing it himself with white gloves and pumping until she came. Her spunk filled a wine glass halfway, which he swirled then sampled like some vineyard tour.
      
       “Nothing to write home about.” The rabbit wiped his chin with a handkerchief and walked off. Tris saw the tiger left before, leaving her alone on the wall with a wet cock and a mind buzzed with dopamine.
      
       The rabbits used her like a prop. Some just cupped her balls or tits as if gauging interest, others poked and prodded, with one even asking her to turn around to a smack on her rear. There was humiliation and there was whatever this was, to the point where Tris started snarling at any bunnies that came close. It scared most off, and turned any hard cocks soft on their approach. Then she heard a voice she’d thought to never hear again.
      
       “Tris? Darling, that you?”
      
       A pair of bunnies approached her. The larger was a brown furred bunny rivaling Tris height without the ears and had a wide stomach bulging underneath his firm chest. He was dressed in leather almost like a biker, except his chaps were assless to help expose the thong that left little to the imagination, his leather vest hung free, and the peaked cap seemed several decades out of fashion. Though he was led by a collar and leash, the one holding it didn’t treat him like her lesser. White fur rolled under a black leather corset and down to five-inch healed boots. She wore a matching peaked cap that accentuated her long blonde hair. She may have been a foot shorter than Tris but those red eyes made anyone in their presence small when needed.
      
       “Holy shit, it is,” Allison said, pulling her husband’s leash taut as they drew closer. “Haven’t seen you since Salt Lake City. What brought you here?”
      
       Her husband, Jack, gave a knowing smile. “I think we know why she’s here, love.”
       She elbowed him. “It’s polite to ask. Especially if you have history.”
      
       Their history wasn’t pleasant. They’d crossed several times in Tris’s younger days on the road, often as rivals, sometimes in friendly terms. She knew Jack before Allison, but Allison’s reputation in the Frel’s Valkyries preceded her. Only the brave or the dumb courted the sadist, and Tris had to watch her friend play both for the bitch for years. Worse still, he looked happier with her even now.
      
       “What are you all doing here?” She asked them. Last Tris heard of them neither had the cash for a club like this. Not unless ‘Electrical Engineer’ and ‘Nurse’ were lies.
      
       “Saved the club owner’s mom once. He offered us a membership free of charge and while we don’t use it often there are nights when we want a third between us.” The white bunny looped her fingers around Tris’s leash. “What do you think, Jack? She meet your standards?”
      
       “No, but seeing her brings up memories. Like Fresno.”
      
       “Really? I was thinking of Austin.”
      
       He grinned. “Oh, Austin was bad, wasn’t it?”
      
       Tris gulped. A few sour deals with a few hurt friends. “Look, if you both need money.”
       Allison laughed. “Your money is the last thing I’d ever take, Tris. But if you wanna settle some scores…” She unclipped the leash from the wall, “I’d be more than happy to take my pound of flesh.”
      
       “Now, now,” Jack said, acting as a wall between Tris and his sadistic wife, “I’m sure we can come to a reasonable deal here. Wouldn’t want poor Tris here to suffer without an attempt at redemption.” The way he smiled implied he didn’t care so much for redemption. Rather, he saw an opportunity. The knot of Tris’s cock refused to deflate despite her concerns.
      
       “W-What do you have in mind?” Tris asked.
      
       Both bunnies grinned and shared a glance. Allison spoke up. “Been a long time since my hubby’s gotten any throat action. We can let bygones be bygones if you can reach his base without help.”
      
       Tris gulped. Back on the road Jack’s dick had the unfortunate nickname of ‘wombwerecker’. While she didn’t have a womb to wreck, she’d seen firsthand why it deserved that name.
      
       She forced a smile. “You telling me you don’t suck your husband off?”
      
       Allison’s grin didn’t falter but her eyes said plenty. “I decide how my husband’s meat gets beat, Tris.”
      
       Tris agreed with the offer. She couldn’t say no without losing her payday, and figured he’d gotten softer in his old age. Besides, Jack always struggled to get it up because of the sheer size. This shaky confidence fell apart when he took it out.
      
       They led her to a couch and forced her to her knees. Allison locked Tris’s wrists behind her back before saddling up with her husband, keeping the doberman’s leash taut. Even soft, Jack’s cock dwarfed Tris’s. She was average at best, whereas Jack was over double her size and thicker by a half. Every anxious breath she took sucked in his scent until she could taste it on the roof of her mouth. Allison angled it just over the doberman’s head, letting the weapon between her husband’s legs cast a shadow over the regretful doberman.
      
       “H-How…” Tris gulped.
      
       Jack looked to his wife, currently nestled in his arm, “The love of the right woman makes all the difference.”
      
       “Oh, darling, don’t be so modest,” Allison laughed, dropping her tone to a chill when she added, “Not like I spent years teaching it what happens if it’s too soft.”
      
       The solid pound of meat pulsed against Tris’s face when Allison said that. For a moment she saw genuine fear spark across Jack’s face, followed by the biggest blush of a lughead in love.
      
       “But tonight’s not the night for that,” Allison said, patting her husband’s chest before eyeing Tris. “Come on. Show us what that big mouth of yours can do.”
      
       Clenching the fists locked behind her, Tris gulped and pulled back to embrace her lips against his cockhead. Salty precum and sweat dance along her tongue with every lather of the pink head. Jack held his cock by the base for Tris as she sank down it, straining her jaw to take it inside.
      
       Tris rarely gave head. She received it plenty, often from people too broke to pay her immediately. She knew enough not to let her teeth scratch flesh and to breathe through her nose, but the weight of his cock against her tongue and the ever-present taste made it difficult to get past the first inch. She closed her eyes to focus, not daring to meet either bunny’s gaze.
      
       “What’s the matter, Tris? Too much of a mouthful?” Allison said with the same soft barbs as a midwestern housewife. The doberman tried to pull back to tell her to piss off, but Jack reached out to keep her head on task.
      
       “Think she might need a little help, hun,” Jack said, “That would rescind the deal, wouldn’t it?”
      
       “It would.” Allison’s grin sent chills down Tris’s spine, “But, then again, that was going to happen, wasn’t it? She always liked to bite off more than she could chew.”
      
       The white rabbit slinked around and clasped Tris’s sack from underneath. Once she was satisfied that the doberman wouldn’t make any movements, she ordered her husband to bring her their bag. He returned soon with a black dufflebag that had a metallic clank rattle inside when he tossed it to the floor.
      
       “Shame they don’t make them in my size. We’ll have to use the spreader.” Jack sorted through the bag until he pulled out a gag that, instead of a ball or ring, had metal bars he latched under Tris’s teeth. “Wish that custom order pussy gag came in.”
      
       “I still think that thing looks ridiculous,” Allison said, unlatching Tris’s bindings only to replace them with two pairs of handcuffs, a cuff on each hand with two cuffs locked around her sack like a humbler device.
      
       “Of course, it looks ridiculous. That’s half the fun. You telling me no one we fool around with would like the added humiliation of their mouth holding a pocket pussy?”
      
       Allison relented with a sigh and let go of Tris’s balls in favor of grabbing her head. The metal bars behind the doberman’s teeth were adjusted with a tiny winch, spreading Tris’s jaw farther than she ever could have on her own. Jack settled his cock back down on her tongue, taking an open invitation to sink inside while Allison held her jaw steady.
      
       “Small little swallows, bitch,” the white rabbit whispered, holding Tris steady when her struggles began, “You’re taking everything because my husband deserves going hilt-deep into some traitor’s throat. And if he doesn’t,” she leaned down to clasp the sack yet again, “I’ll walk out with this around my neck.”
      
       After a minute of gagging powered by fear, unwanted arousal, and Allison’s arms, Tris’s wet nose braced the sweaty folds at the base of Jack’s cock. She let her husband take hold, leaving Allison to go through her back for something just out of Tris’s gaze. It was hard enough to focus with over twelve inches of fat cock down her throat, but her ears stood up in fright when she heard something slice through the wind.
      
       The first strike cracked across her ass, just high enough to avoid the balls but hard enough for the tug on the cuffs to make her hate the humbler.
      
       “Oh, did that hurt? How? I couldn’t kill a fly with that.” Allison lied, no doubt smiling with a sadistic grin as she laid down more strikes. She avoided Tri’s sack, at least until she decided it was better to yank, pull, and hammer it with a balled fist. Much softer than the cane but the difference in pain was negligible. Tris’s cheeks were matted from tears and her throat burned by the time Jack had pulled out.
      
       “I think it’s the angle,” Jack said, casually bopping his bludgeon of a cock against Tris’s face as he spoke. “Think we could get her on her back?”
      
       “I think we can find a table. Help me set her up.” The pair hoisted Tris up and uncuffed her sack only to lock her arms against one another like a straitjacket without the jacket. Allison kept a tight grip on the doberman’s balls to keep her docile, leading her along by them until they reached an adjustable gynecologist chair in the middle of the dungeon. Think brown furred arms pulled her over the table and leather straps locked her in place and spread her legs open, leaving her underside exposed.
      
       “Well, ain’t that a surprise.” Allison clasped Tris’s full erection as her husband started cranking the chair to lay the doberman out flat. The rabbit’s grip was tight and she squeezed with slow pumps. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this. I hope not, I hate masochists.” Her fingers flicked Tris’s cockring like a discarded booger. Tris winced at every fruitless attempt to fling her piercing off.
      
       Jack’s heavy hand rested upon the doberman’s shoulder. “I sure hope not. There’s only one masochist my wife enjoys playing with.”
      
       “And it ain’t my husband,” Allison clarified, “Don’t pull her head back yet. I want her to see what I’ve got planned.”
      
       Jack leaned Tris’s head forward to witness a black leather case pulled from their duffel bag. Inside were several metallic rods, each thicker than the last. Her eyes went wide when she saw Allison pull one out, ears flaring and head shaking for what was about to happen.
      
       “Oh good, you know what a sounding rod is. Jack, have your fun.”
      
       He arched her head back by her chin and unceremoniously plunged his cock into her forced open maw. A heavy hand held her throat like it was the shaft of his personal pocket pussy. Gagged winces turned to squeals as a lubed up sounding rode sank into the forbidden hole of her urethra, slowly sinking down with twists and the occasional pull back. Jack’s balls smacked her sensitive nose, sending shocks over her body and filling her nostrils with his musk.
      
       For one moment that expanded eternity she felt bliss. Bliss of pleasure through pain and humiliation. Little could be heard over her slobbering gags, the wet plapping of his thighs against her face, or the struggle of her restraints, but she did hear Allison say not to finish in her mouth. Or she convinced herself the bunny said it.
      
       The rod sent her nerves on fire from touch. Allison replaced it with a bigger one until it almost became unbearable from the sensitivity. That’s when she tied it down to Tris’s piercing, forcing it in place so she could focus on her next endeavor; two lubed up rubber fingers slipping into her backside.
      
       “Not as tight as I thought. With a little work Jack might just fit.”
      
       The two fingers spread wide and circled her inner walls. Then came a third, followed by a fourth then a fifth until the rabbit’s hand was little different from a spear making its way with Tris’s backside. The digits writhed into her spread ass, curling up into a fist that slowly punched her gut as Allison pushed her wrist up inside.
      
       Jack pulled out when his wife did, leaving Tris coughing and wincing whilst trying not to move her cock. Every little movement made the sounding rod electrify her nerves. Allison noticed this and flicked it with her lubed hand. Her husband, meanwhile, used Tris’s face and neck to clean the saliva off his cock.
      
       The two lovers during Tris’s minor reprieve. Satisfied, Allison readjusted the chair so that Tris’s upper body slopped down at an angle. Then she unlatched the doberman’s gag. “If you so much as mutter a peep that ain’t your safeword, I’ll use that sounding rod as a lightning rod.” Tris nodded, resting her aching jaw as the bunny positioned her cunt over her nose. Droplets of desire dripped over his face.
      
       Despite the stretching Jack’s cock didn’t sink in easily. Strong hands held her thighs like the handles of a motorbike, gripping tight as his fat phallus spread her loosened ring wide. Her maw gapped open in silence. Her body froze from what felt like a warmblooded baseball bat filling her backside.
      
       “Crazy, ain’t it?” Allison mused, sinking her wet and gaped pussy down over Tris’s face. “That wombwrecker gave me three beautiful children and years of joy as my punching bag. But my man’s an assman, and even I got my limits in pleasing him. So, apologies, but he’s gonna use that hole for all its worth.”
      
       Tris felt the husband’s fingers imprint on her thigh. Her muffles were muted by Allison’s thighs, with every attempt earning her another taste of the woman’s muff until it became clear what she was supposed to do. Experience gave her little talent for it. Desperation made up the difference.
      
       Allison pulled, twisted, and pinched the doberman’s tits while Jack laid his cock down her hole. He did not care if Tris’s prostate was getting crushed or if the sounding rod ruined her orgasms, he used her slowly and carefully to enjoy each second inside her. His speed increased only at his wife’s behest when she pulled him close by the collar for a kiss. The two forgot about the person between them, treating her more as a marital aid for a kinky night between old lovers. She was meat. Fuckmeat. And Tris wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the short lucid moments she had.
      
       Hot seed filled her insides but he didn’t stop. His slowing rhythm was short-lived with Allison’s growl. “Keep fucking,” she hissed with passion. “Don’t you dare stop using my cock.”
      
       “Yes…yes mistress,” Jack said, breathless. He winced and waned, as if her sensitive dick tried to pull him from trance.
      
       “Your pain is my pleasure. You don’t stop until I say so.” Allison went from torturing Tris’s tits to pulling and twisting her husband’s pecks in between nipping his neck.
      
       She drenched Tris’s maw when she came, hugging her husband close and muffling her screams with a hard bite of his neck. He muffled his cries through bit lips and finally stopped, hilting the entirety of his heavy rod inside the doberman’s body.
      
       Tris herself writhed in agonizing pleasure. Wave after wave rippled through her body but the sounding rod hampered her release. Not even a drizzle of seed slipped past it, leaving it to die in his sack to be pissed out later. She didn’t care. Tris greedily drank the air once Allison lifted herself off. Her shudder broke her voice when the rabbit withdrew the rod, making her squeal with a final twist and thrust of the two before removing it completely.
      
       In a fugue state she noticed them removing her restraints. Jack lifted her over his shoulders, carrying her across the room to rest on a couch. Before she knew it a water bottle had been handed to her. Aching jaws opened to guzzle it down.
      
       “The piercing is new,” Allison said, pointing to the cockring piercing Tris had. Tris looked at her funny, eyebrow raised as though the two hadn’t just beat her into an inch of her life through orgasmic overflow. The white rabbit grinned and fluttered her eyes, all sadism seemingly erased by a mother of three. “Maybe next time I can lead you by it,” she said in the same cadence of a woman gossiping with her friends.
      
       Jack snorted. “Hun, you’re confusing her.”
      
       “Tris ain’t that dumb.”
      
       “No, but she’s coming out of subspace. You know better.”
      
       Allison sighed with a roll of her eyes. She glared at another bunny approaching, their hand outstretched to grab Tris’s leash. She held Tris’s thigh protectively while Jack told the rabbit that they were still having their fun with Tris.
      
       “Sorry, I thought you were done.” The rabbit protested.
      
       “It’s called aftercare, pal. You can see her later.”
      
       ***
       The ceiling of her apartment wall had grown familiar to Tris over the past few days. The payout settled her debts and gave her plenty leftover to rest up, but that wasn’t why she found herself struggling to leave her bed every morning since that night.
      
       Her ass ached, her cockhole burned, her jaw still clenched, but there were no signs anything was wrong. She knew about ghost limb syndrome and wondered if ghost orifice syndrome existed alongside it. None of the pain was even painful. She couldn’t describe it well, but it felt more like a calling. A desire to experience it again.
      
       The protection rackets she ran were lost causes without motivation and that fell down the drain. The calculations in her head made it clear that if she didn’t get any income soon she’d run out of the leftovers from The Burrow. Yet she seemed more occupied experimenting with tying her balls up and spanking it while jerking off than going out.
      
       Her doorbell rang. Naked and bored, she willed herself to get up. Still naked, she noticed a single card had been slipped through the mailslot.
      
       She picked it up, saw the Burrows symbol, flipped it over, and grinned as she reached for her phone.
      
       “Same place,” the voice on the other line said. “Tonight. Clear out your schedule this week.”
      

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