Archive-name: Bestial/her-bone.txt
Archive-author: William Haas/Ashtoreth  (c) 1992
Archive-title: Dog And Her Bone, A


a Smutty Furry Porn Story by
William Ellsworth Haas the Second

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

* * *

    Sondra Sachs-Cromwell smiled contentedly.
    Hunting season was long over, and as winter's icy grip enfolded 
the safe, warm manor of the Cromwell estate, Sondra convalesced and 
gathered her strength from the ardor of giving birth to her two 
children.
    She lay upon her bed one evening, suckling the smaller of the two, 
as the other child slumbered peacefully beside her, and stared dreamily 
out of the window, out over the snow-laden grounds of the estate, into 
the dark forest beyond.  Mycroft Cromwell, her husband, looked over her 
and his two sons approvingly.
    "It is a fine sight to see, my love," he said, "my beloved and my 
fine, strong children."
    Sondra smiled endulgently back.  Her bringing forth of life had 
softened her heart a little, and she found her husband's arid 
personality almost tolerable, if bland.
    "There is but one puzzling thing," said Mycroft, smoothing out the 
fur on his chin in thought.
    Sondra looked up.  "What is that, my husband?" she said, raising 
her eyebrows.
    "It is just... your family claims to be of pure shepherd stock, 
does it not, my love?" he said.
    Sondra nodded, ignoring the implicit insult.  "That it does."
    "Then how do you suppose it came to be that our sons have the most 
unusual shade of reddish fur?"
    Sondra smiled sweetly.  "Well, my husband, perhaps my history is 
more checkered than is commonly known."
-- 
