shardanic art

“Good boy, Brucie! Good boy!” I encouraged him, ruffling his neck. “Mommy's turn this time!” And with a tongue-lolling doggie grin, he finally made his move, jumping up onto Mom's back and starting to thrust himself at her. She gasped in some combination of surprise, doubt, and fear, and I took her hand in mine, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Try to get a little lower, if you can,” I advised her. “If you let him get all four paws on the ground he'll be way less likely to scratch you with his claws. It'll feel better, too, if you give him more leverage for thrusting.” She did as I said, lowering her hips and pressing those huge, hanging tits firmly into the carpet, her eyes clenched closed as she waited for it to happen. Bruce was having a little trouble finding his mark, as he always did, so I reached in under her with my other hand and spread her thick, meaty lips with my fingers. That got it done, her eyes popping wide as that hot doggie cock finally slid inside. His claws scratched at the carpet as he tried to reposition himself, giving himself one more deep, forceful drive into her depths.

“No problem hon,” Her dad called after her, happy to see that both of their moods had improved this weekend, while being none the wiser on why that was the case.

Noah sighed. “I suppose I could dose the church agents with a mild poison before they enter the ring, but that’s not a reliable or subtle method. I also believe the church has hired someone to rig the matches like I’ve been, though I suppose the barrier will also hinder them. I can do it, but it’ll mean putting myself in harm’s way. In which case, I need more incentive.”“Such as?”