textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/satisfac.txt

Archive-name: Violent/satisfac.txt
Archive-author: Watts Martin
Archive-title: Satisfaction

Author's Note
-------------
    "Satisfaction" has been around for almost a year now (written in the first
month of 1990) and so far has only appeared in text file form, and up until
very recently only on one system.  I have had, and still have, reservations
about ever seeing it in print, although there have been stories which I found
more offensive printed in furry fanzines in the past.  Nevertheless, I have to
wonder if some people wouldn't feel it crosses a taboo line in "furry
literature." (Make no mistake: every group has taboos, even if they're not
explicitly stated.  Oops, was that a bad pun?) The piece started as a response
to a joke and was first to be a black humor piece, but along the way it became
an answer to the question, "What if Clive Barker was a furry fan?" As Donna
Barr said about the Desert Peach: Anyone who takes this seriously deserves to. 
There are still people who maintain this is a humor piece, though; your
reactions are your business alone. 
    This said, it should also be mentioned that this story has explicit sex and
graphic violence and, on the whole, no socially redeeming qualities whatsoever. 
If you are looking for a cheerful before-bedtime read, don't read this.  If you
are under 18, stop now, destroy all hard copies of this story and eat the disk
the file is on.  Most of my stories aren't like this one.  This is nasty.  I
mean it.  Still here? Don't say I didn't warn you. 


                             SATISFACTION
                             Watts Martin

     The room was crowded with noise and smoke, crowded with people moving
erratically between the tables, from one end of the long bar to the other.  Not
the best restaurant in town, not the worst; good for food, better for pickups. 
Every town had a place like it, even small, boring towns like this, off in the
back corners of Ranea. 
     Gren's gang had been here most of the night.  They usually were,
especially on the first night of the weekend.  Gren was a tall, muscular human,
dark in hair, skin and temperment.  Like most of his friends, his physical age
was ahead of his emotional one: handsome enough to impress the girls, strong
enough to impress the boys, not wise enough to use either talent well.  The
group around him was a ragtag bunch, hitting all sizes, shapes, and most of the
races, from furred to scaly.  Together they roamed like a school of sharks
searching for appropriate targets.  Most of the crowd, intended targets or not,
avoided their presence. 
     Of course, none of them were looking for girls who wanted to be around
them all that long anyway.  Right now, they were looking at a group of women
nearby, all human, some fairly attractive.  Some of their questing stares
returned with smiles, others with ice drops. 
     But Gren wasn't looking at them, not really.  His glance had kept coming
back to a curious woman sitting at one end of the bar.  A lot of people had
been looking at her, but nobody except the bartender had approached her.  She
was a tiger morph, white fur with black stripes, shoulder-length black hair and
huge, dizzying blue eyes of a type men lose themselves in.  She was wearing a
tight, one-piece dress, cut low enough in front to almost reveal a magnificent
pair of breasts.  The dress was backless, dropping low enough to let her tail
out, and she had a hell of a nice tail (in both senses of the word).  She had
been looking at him, too, with an inviting expression; if she really wanted to
be picked up, he was willing to oblige. 
     One of his friends followed his glance.  "You really think you could take
something like that on, don't you?" he said. 
     "You know it," Gren replied.  His friend didn't say the obvious--if Gren
was so confident, why hadn't he approached her before? That'd be obvious to
most people, too; Gren was probably one of the tallest people in the restaurant
and she still had a full foot on him. 
     What the hell.  You never know what you're gonna get until you try, right?
Gren walked over to her, opening conservatively.  "I couldn't help but notice
you've been alone all evening." She looked up, startled.  Maybe.  "I just
thought maybe you could use somebody to...  talk to."
     "Possibly," she replied, her eyes wandering across him in a decidedly
uncasual way.  Her voice was soft, warm, not intimidating at all, and Gren
dropped into the seat next to her. 
     Her name was Sheila, she told him, and no, he hadn't seen her here before. 
She was just passing through, here to try to make a sale to some local
shops--she made and sold clothing and linens.  "You make the dress you're
wearing?" he asked. 
     "Yes," she said, turning towards him a little and straightening up,
pulling the cloth a little tighter.  "Do you like it?"
     "It's beautiful," he said, wondering how easy it would be to get it off
her.  "Mind if I buy you a drink?"
     "Thank you," she said, smiling down at him.  "It's nice to find someone so
_friendly_ in a strange town." They talked, but not much; Sheila had played the
game before, too.  When the conversation turned to loneliness, he let drop--as
subtly as he knew how--the suggestion that he was extremely good at relieving
that for a night.  "Or longer?" she prompted. 
     "Maybe," he said.  She acted the shy, reluctant type, but he knew he
almost had her; it was only a little longer before she slid her arm across his
knee, and he put his own over hers, feeling the soft, short fur and the heat
underneath.  Her hotel was only a few blocks away from the tavern, and, she
suggested, an extremely comfortable place to get to know each other better.  As
they went to the door, he hung back with his gang for a few seconds, just out
of her earshot.  "You got her," one of them said, laughing. 
     "No, but I will in about ten minutes," he leered.
     "You sure you wanna bed somebody that big?"
     "She practically threw herself on me," he said.  "I think I'm gonna have
one incredible evening."
     "Shit," another said.  "You always get your prey, don't you?"
     "You know it," he grinned, heading towards the waiting tigress. 
     The hotel was a little run-down, but not too badly; Sheila's room was on
the sixth floor.  The halls and rooms were painted an off-white, not terribly
attractive, but her small room seemed warm and inviting.  The bed was barely
big enough to hold her, but even so, it took up most of the floor.  It struck
Gren as deliciously appropriate.  He sat down on the bed while Sheila ducked
into the bathroom. 
     "I wouldn't think a place like this could afford sheets this good," he
said, feeling the fabric underneath him.  It was a muted, deep burnt orange and
felt soft as silk but thicker, less slippery. 
     "They can't," she said.  Her voice was like the sheets, silky and thick. 
"Those are sheets that I sell.  Pretty, very comfortable, and easy to clean."
He grunted, staring around the room.  His eyes lit on a ruby amulet that sat on
a dresser behind the bed.  He thought briefly about taking it, then decided it
wouldn't be worth the effort.  Besides, he could do it later, if he left while
she was sleeping. 
     "Tell me about yourself."
     "What do you mean?"
     "I'm interested in knowing more than your name, Gren.  I want to know
what's inside you, too." The bathroom door opened and Sheila stepped out in a
tiger-sized negligee, made out of another fabric Gren didn't recognize.  It was
a milky gauze that clung to her body as if it had a will of its own.  As she
crossed the few steps to the bed, he found his mouth dry.  "At least you know
what I do for a living," she said, sitting down and unfolding herself across
the bed.  She rolled to face him and stretched powerfully, her nipples pressing
into the almost-transparent cloth.  Gren was embarrassed (almost angered) by
his quick reaction; they hadn't even touched yet. 
     "I don't know," he said.  "I don't have a job, don't really even have much
of a home.  I guess I don't do all that much-- except in bed." He lowered
himself beside her, peeling back the negligee and caressing her furry breasts,
moving his face up to her neck, nuzzling, then grasping her with his arms and
pressing his body against hers.  She traced his back with one paw lightly,
drawing a finger across his buttock and around to his crotch, then into his
pants to stroke between his legs.  He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then
shoved his pants off in one motion, kicking them off the bed and throwing his
body into her fur. 
     Gren hadn't realized how much more there was of her than there was of him;
as he moved his hips against hers, he had to tilt his head slightly upwards to
feel the nape of her neck with his mouth.  Sheila rolled onto her back,
spreading her legs and wrapping her arms around him, her tail curling around
his back.  Her paw is almost the size of my head, he thought for an instant. 
Then his hands found her breasts, and the awareness that they, too, were almost
the size of his head drove other considerations from him.  He kissed one
nipple, lightly bit the other, licked the fur between them, rubbing his face in
her plush chest fur.  She responded only by stroking his back and drawing one
extended claw lightly across the small of it.  He gripped her back with his
arms, driving his hands into her and thrusting in deep. 
     It wasn't until he rolled off of her, gasping, that he thought about it. 
Most women he knew would have at least cried out; he was unapologetically
aggressive, and wanted to be able to do what he wanted with his women when he
wanted it.  Sheila had let him do what he wanted, all right: try to take her by
force and end up working himself against her until he came like a volcano.  He
pursed his lips, studying her; she was studying him back, with an expectant
expression.  "You're not the most responsive girl I've ever known," he said. 
     She laughed softly.  "If that was your idea of satisfying me, I may have
to try something else."
     He looked at her a moment longer, then laughed himself and closed with her
again, meeting her mouth with his, running his tongue across her lips and
teeth.  They were magnificent, intimidating teeth, razorlike canines the size
of his little finger; they wrestled tongues, bodies following suit.  She
brought her leg across his thigh, pinning him to her gently.  She completed the
motion by bringing an arm across his back, holding him to her firmly; she moved
her tongue out of his mouth and across his neck, biting him lightly on the
shoulder.  He jerked against her and she laughed, caressing his cheek by
rubbing her own against it.  He tried to enter her again, but she held him in
place.  "Slow," she whispered admonishingly, moving her head down his chest and
licking his nipples, inching her hands across every part of him. 
     Quickly, he was erect against her, his penis pressing into her chest.  She
held it between her breasts and continued to lick him, holding him at the edge
of orgasm just as surely.  He tried to regain his own rhythm, but she moved
again, surrounding him with her legs and arm, pushing him into her, taking him
with her.  He stopped fighting and moved with her deliberately, his bare legs
entwined with her furry ones.  Their movements were slow and measured--and
powerful.  Sheila moaned softly, but Gren didn't hear it; his body was
white-hot, and when he could form a coherent thought it was to wonder what she
was doing to him to keep him a split-second away from orgasm for what felt like
hours. 
     Suddenly, she thrust against him viciously, throwing her weight against
him at their hips.  As they both climaxed, he screamed in an almost unwilling
pleasure, feeling his entire body exploding into the tigress. 
     She rolled onto her stomach, bringing him under her and knocking what
little wind he had left out of him.  "G-Guh," he coughed, working to regain his
breath.  He scrambled back against the pillow, leaving her head on his chest,
and wheezed, panting heavily.  She stared up at him with her big, ice-blue
eyes, and Gren sensed she was amused by his discomfort. 
     "You're not nearly as good as you think you are," she said.
     "Then just what does it take to satisfy you?" he replied, stroking her
neck weakly.  Although he would refuse to admit it, she was exhausting him
quickly--she seemed to have the stamina of...  well, of a tigress, obviously. 
Damn. 
     "We're going to have to find out, hmmmm?" she murmured, and rolled onto
her side, pulled his arms around her chest and rolled back slightly, pinning
his thighs against her rear.  He explored her breasts with his fingers, moved
down to her legs and as he became erect again, opened her up and slid in.  She
pushed his hand away and closed around him.  "You like doing it from behind?"
she asked. 
     "I could learn to," he murmured, moving into her further.  She slid
herself up and down his shaft with slight, crushingly strong movements, and he
held on with all his strength.  He was at climax again faster than he thought
was possible. 
     Afterwards, Gren lay on his back, panting; Sheila leaned over him, one arm
on each side of his head.  He looked up and saw the still-hungry expression in
her eyes and almost groaned.  "Four times...  five?" She fell on him, her body
pressing into his once more, and he tried to push her off.  "No," he gasped. 
"I can't...."
     The tigress didn't even look at him, rubbing his face against her sheer
fur and pinning him to her with her arms, then wrapping her legs around him and
thrusting him against her.  "Shit," he breathed, struggling to get away from
her.  She let go enough for him to get his upper body free, but she dived onto
his crotch, licking again, and he became erect against his will.  He stared
down at his penis as if it had just delivered secret battle plans to the enemy;
then Sheila straightened out and with all four limbs yanked him into her,
sliding him in as if she was putting a sword into its sheath.  She curled
around him as if he were a teddy bear and shook violently, biting at his neck
hard enough to hurt. 
     Gren started to panic, trying to push away from her, but she held him like
a little girl with a rag doll.  He struggled more wildly, striking his arms
against her shoulders, and she started to purr, writhing against him.  Finally,
he just hung on, letting her take him through until they climaxed together.  He
managed to extract himself from her, but was too weak to do more than sit up by
the pillow. 
     After a moment, the tigress rolled over and looked up at him.  Her eyes
shone with a light that made Gren's blood run cold.  "You can't," he said,
almost choking on the words, "do...  that." He slid his legs onto the floor and
stood up, wobbling precariously, and tried to catch his breath. 
     "I'm disappointed in you," Sheila said mockingly.  "I hope you're not
thinking of leaving.  I'm not satisfied yet."
     "I'm not just thinking about it," he said, looking around for his pants. 
"Do you think you can just keep me here until you've stopped being horny?"
     She lazily hooked his arm with one paw and yanked him back down on the
mattress, laughing at his outraged curse, and straddled him, her legs pinning
him to the bed, her hands holding him down at the shoulders.  "Do you think you
can stop me from doing just that, little man?"
     She lifted one arm up and grabbed her negligee from where it lay by the
pillow, and tickled his face with it playfully.  He kicked up against her with
all his strength, rocking her backwards, and struck out with his free arm.  He
caught her across the face, knocking her head back, but not breaking himself
free.  When she turned back to him, she was smiling broadly.  "You're not even
a very good fighter," she said.  Gren felt the claws against his shoulder
extend into his skin, pull towards his neck lightly as she dragged her paw
across him.  "I'm going to satisfy myself with you one way or another." She put
her face down by the shoulder and started licking the wound, stretching her
body out across his once more. 
     She started to suck at the blood.  "Dammit, get off me!" Gren said loudly. 
She embraced him, the arm holding the negligee coming up behind his head and
pinning it against her neck.  She pulled him closer, wrapping her legs around
him still another time as if they were entering foreplay once more, sucking the
wound harder.  He writhed like a worm on a hook, wriggling a half a foot
towards the headboard before her hand closed around his mouth, pressing the
negligee into it, and gently pulling him back under her.  Then her body tensed,
her mouth nuzzling the wound and opening widely to let her tongue lick it, her
claws digging deep into his back.  He screamed a curse, the words muffled by
the negligee.  She stuffed it into his mouth further, and bit into him, her
mouth closing around his shoulder from neck to forearm.  He screamed this time,
nearly gagging on the negligee.  A little sado-masochism was one thing, but
shit!
     A little stream of blood shot onto Gren's nose as her teeth kept going,
and he stared at it in disbelief.  Then the reserves of calm he had left
evaporated as he felt Sheila's fangs scrape along bone.  He started to whimper
when he heard her swallow. 
     The tigress lifted her face from the ruins of his shoulder, her muzzle
dripping onto the negligee she had gagged him with, and smiled.  Her eyes were
no longer even those of a dominatrix looking at her partner; they belonged to a
carnivore playing with her trapped prey.  "You are good after all," she
whispered, holding one of his hands and stroking it.  He tried to pull away,
yanking back on his arm with all his strength, fighting desperately, but she
easily took it in one paw and held it out, pressing down on it so his fingers
extended.  "Even if you suck as a lover," she continued, laughing.  She brought
his hand to her mouth and ran her tongue across it, then bit through at the
knuckles, spitting the fingers onto the floor.  He stared at the flowing blood
dumbly, not even fighting as Sheila brought his other hand to her mouth and bit
off his remaining fingers the way he might eat grapes, this time not spitting
them out but chewing casually.  She reached out with one hand as she swallowed
and pushed the negligee further back into his mouth, filling it up completely;
he couldn't even work it out with his tongue. 
     She rolled him onto his side like a toy and clasped him to her front, her
hands around his chest and her breasts digging into his raw back.  Her nipples
were harder than he had gotten them all night.  She placed her face against his
cheek, her chin resting on his good shoulder.  "You never told me if you liked
it from behind," she said.  She tilted her head down and started nibbling off
flesh, this time in small bites instead of one large one. 
     God oh gods, Gren thought, furries don't do this, I'm not a prey animal,
I'm another sapient and she's fucking eating me alive! As she chewed, she
moaned louder, writhing against him, and he could feel the wetness between her
legs.  Shit, he thought, she's getting off by doing this to me.  He struggled
again, and again, she tightened her grip, her head arching back with each bite
in ecstacy.  He kicked wildly, trying to hit anything that might hurt her.  She
simply moved her legs so his feet were between her knees and stretched,
grinding his ankles together and reducing his movement to pitiful struggles as
she ripped away more flesh.  After a moment he froze, trying desperately to
clear his head through the pain.  He couldn't be so completely at her mercy. 
     When she had finished the shoulder she flipped him under her and held his
head back, stroking his neck with the back of one paw.  "I could bite out your
throat now," she said.  He looked up her, tears streaming down his face.  She
licked his neck and moved her muzzle slowly down his chest, her claws holding
onto him as she went.  He pushed against her head with his hands, trying to
avoid looking at the bloody scraps left on his shoulder, trying to get her off
him before he passed out from blood loss.  If he could--
     She gave him teasing little bites, just barely drawing blood, as she moved
towards his thigh, then licked his balls once again, laughing.  "But I won't go
near your throat," she said.  "You know how I like it slow." She kissed his
upper thigh, then sank in her fangs.  Gren jerked his hands to his mouth.  He
wanted to scream loudly, attracting attention--she'd have to stop then, whoever
came could get him to a healer....  His now- fingerless hands could not grab
the negligee; he pawed at it desperately, then beat the stumps against the
tigress' head as she chewed.  She ignored it; when he finally realized there
was nothing he could do, he stopped fighting. 
     The pain crossed some point where it seemed he no longer felt it, or
perhaps forgot what it was like not to be feeling it at all.  He stretched his
neck to watch Sheila.  She seemed to be climaxing almost continuously, moaning
and purring as she ripped through his legs, swallowing them in ragged chunks
and lapping up the blood.  I'd love to be in her now that she's coming like
that, he thought crazily--well, I guess I am, aren't I? He giggled through the
tears, and she paused and looked up at him, her face covered with his blood and
pieces of him between her teeth, and she laughed, too, for a second before
continuing her meal. 
     Gren was dimly aware of being rolled over a few more times, but all
sensation seemed to have stopped.  How long had she been at him? Hours? It
couldn't have been more than ten minutes....  The last thing he saw, or thought
he saw, was the beautiful tigress opening his belly with one claw and shoving
her pretty face against his ribs, snapping them away to get at the treasures
beneath. 
     Afterwards, Sheila felt more satisfied than she had in weeks, lying on her
back in what was left of her lover, playing absently with a bone until she
realized what she was doing.  She sat up and shivered, stifling the gag that
always came in spite of herself, then looked around the room.  The only stains
off the bed were from the fingers on the floor; some spot remover would get rid
of them easily.  She picked them up and threw them on the bed, then carefully
folded the sheets around the remains and tied them up into a little ball. 
Whatever fabric they were made out of had not let anything soak into the bed;
she dumped the sheets into a bag, closed it up, and set it on the windowsill. 
Then she retrieved the hotel's own sheets, remade the bed carelessly, and
crossed to the dresser, picking up the amulet.  She put it on and faced the
window, then grasped it with one paw.  The bag disappeared in a silent white
flash, wind carrying the ash onto the street below. 
     She should have stopped herself, of course; he hadn't deserved it.  He had
been an asshole, though, a role model for the type of man they say prey on
women.  She laughed at the thought, then showered and dressed quickly, wanting
to leave the room as fast as possible. 
     As she packed, she realized she had accidentally incinerated the negligee,
too, and cursed. 

     "Very nice," she said, looking around.  Roland smiled blissfully, eager to
please.  He hadn't lived in the efficiency for very long, and had only been out
on his own for a few months before that, and she found his naivete charming. 
So different from most of the others.  She wouldn't have been surprised if the
young rabbit was still a virgin, but he might make up what he lacked in
experience with sheer enthusiasm.  She hoped so; it would be nice to have
someone to keep coming back to.  She hadn't found very many of those. 
     She sat down on the bed, taking off her shirt.  His wide- eyed expression
as her breasts came free was almost comical.  "Relax," she said, and he smiled
somewhat nervously.  She continued looking around the apartment as he stripped
off his own shirt, fumbling at his belt.  "Do you do your own cooking?"
     "Huh?" He followed her glance to the kitchen.  It was well- kept and
obviously saw a lot of use.  "Yeah, all the time.  I'm not too bad at it,
really." He started to take off his pants, but she pulled him down beside her,
sliding them off with one hand and running a finger up his thigh.  "I'll even
make you breakfast in the morning," he finished weakly. 
     She kissed Roland's neck, sliding her leg around him, and he pressed
against her adoringly.  "We'll see," she whispered.  He started to nuzzle
between her breasts, and she wrapped her arms around him, purring softly. 

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