Work Break

My name's Jerry. I'm a wolf.

There's nothing lonelier or more pathetic than a sandwich shop in the evening. When animals go out for dinner, they tend to think sit-down restaurants or drive-through burgers. Nobody goes out to dinner just for a sandwich.

But there was an open spot in the schedule that needed filling, and hey, I can always use the extra money. So I took a closing shift. Just me and Rachel.

Rachel.

I never much liked raccoons, and Rachel rarely did anything to change my mind about them. She always struck me as sort of detached from her responsibilities. Like she couldn't see what needed to be done around the store, or else simply didn't care. I've never seen her spontaneously start up anything but the simplest of prep jobs, and even then it seemed like she just wanted to avoid being assigned a harder one.

But maybe she was just a product of her environment. After all, she worked the closing shift most days. If most days were like this one -- two hours since our last customer already! -- then how could I blame her?

What could you do if there was no one to serve? Cleaning? I managed to keep that up for an hour, finding little odd jobs hidden in the nooks and crannies, but I was already getting sick of them. How would I survive an entire week like that?

I leaned against a counter, staring off into space. You never did that during the day. "If you're leaning, you could be cleaning." Ugh. I was just about to get myself another free soda when I heard a bell jangling. A customer at last. And yet somehow, my first reaction was annoyance. There's a certain amount of inertia that you have to fight against when you get your first customer in two hours, even if it does mean the chance to have something to do.

And then I looked up. Oh!

A small orange fox with a gym bag on his shoulder stepped through the door. His eyes lit up with surprised recognition when he saw me.

"Jerry!" he beamed. "What, they have you working nights now?"

"Nah," I grinned back. "Just picking up some extra hours."

It was Keith. My boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

I rolled the word around in my mind, savored it. Boyfriend. Intimate partner. It was still such a novelty to me that my fur stood on end just thinking about it. I was still piecing together exactly how it had happened, but there was no denying it. Keith and I were a couple.

It felt damned good.

"So, can I get you a sandwich or anything?" I grinned.

Keith rolled his eyes. "It's always business with you, isn't it?" he scolded. "No 'Hi hon! How are you doing?'"

I glanced up, suddenly panicked. Okay, I liked having a boyfriend and all, but not enough that I wanted to be saying stuff like that when Rachel was right there. Luckily, she was dead focused on her cellular phone. "Okay. How are you doing?" I asked, smiling a little more nervously.

"Oh, not bad," Keith said. "Yourself?"

Huh. That one took me off guard for some reason. I'd been on mental auto pilot for so long that it took me a couple moments to remember how I was doing. "You know what? I'm bored out of my mind," I said at last. I knew it'd come to me. "I can't remember ever having a slower night doing anything in my entire life."

"Then," Keith said solemnly, giving his tail two quick whisks, "We must find a distraction for you. Why don't you show me around the back? It'll be fun."

I shot a glance over to Rachel, still plugging away with her cellular phone, punching in a text message with the patience of a painter composing a masterpiece. Whatever else I thought about her, I was sure she would be capable of handling the one or two customers who might come in in the next five minutes.

"Hey," I called to her. "I'm going in the back. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

"Sure," she muttered, a weak cry from whatever distant plane of digital communication her brain was currently residing in.

I took Keith in the back, showed him around our storage areas. The bleak, bare walls and flooring stood in stark contrast to the gleaming, carefully selected color schemes from the front of the store, and yet, Keith took it all in with bubbly enthusiasm. I couldn't quite tell if he was genuinely interested, or if he was just humoring me for whatever reason.

But our whirlwind tour ended in a dry storage closet, where we had huge metal shelves filled with unrefrigerated supplies -- certain condiments, unopened pickles, big boxes of potato chips, that kind of thing.

"So this is where we keep our unrefrigerated supplies," I droned, no less bored for the distraction he'd offered. "Certain condiments, unopened pickles, big boxes --"

Click. The door closed behind me. It struck me as ominous.

I turned to face Keith, ears perked. He had his paws behind his back, and he was grinning at me mischievously. I noticed that his duffel bag was on the floor. Opened. I frowned and looked it over as carefully as I could without moving. My first instinct was that he was stealing something -- not that I didn't trust him, but I do try to keep up an unhealthy level of paranoia about myself at all times -- so I tried to see if there was anything suspicious poking out of it. I saw something, but it didn't look like anything we stocked...

"Big boxes, you say?" he grinned, encouraging me to continue.

Something was wrong here. I was certain of it. I was equally certain that I wasn't going to get out of whatever he was planning. So I resigned myself. "Okay," I said. "What do you have behind your back?"

He blinked at me, his face shocked blank. "What back?"

"Behind your back," I repeated steadily.

"Oh!" he said. "Just this."

Then he reached up and deftly slipped a latch into the D-ring on my collar. Before I knew what was happening, he pulled my head down by the attached leash and snapped! the other end onto the frame of one of the metal shelves.

It was an awkward position to be in, and it left me startled for a moment. I reached for the latch on my collar with one paw, and something slipped around my wrist and pulled it off to the side. Before I could react with my other paw, it was handcuffed as well.

I pulled, starting to panic. Pulled with all of my wolf strength, but the shelving just gave a sort of half-hearted grumble and stayed completely fixed.

"What are you doing?!" I growled, starting to work myself into a panic.

"Locking you up," he answered in his playful little singsong voice.

I thrashed around, trying to turn my head to see him. "Let me out of here!"

Something shiny and metallic suddenly dangled in front of my nose. "Do you want the key?" he sang.

"Yes!"

A paw gripped my chin and pulled my mouth open. He dropped the key on my tongue, then clamped my jaws shut, holding them closed with one paw.

And then a tight leather muzzle slipped over my nose and across my face. My eyes bugged out and I tried to scream, but I couldn't manage more than a frantic squeal as he tied the laces secure around the back of my head.

With one paw, he tipped my face up to his. And then he blew gently on my exposed nose. I winced, trying to block the irritation out of my mind, trying to resist, but then...

GLRP. I felt the key to my salvation vanish down my own throat. I could feel it sliding heavily through my chest and landing in a heavy lump in the pit of my stomach.

I was trapped. Doubled over and bound in place with only inches of slack in any direction. I wasn't leaving this closet without assistance. I couldn't even scream. God, he had me right where he wanted me.

And the pants came next. I knew, I knew it was coming. Two clever little fox paws undid my belt buckle, unbuttoned my fly, and slipped into my pants, cupping my balls gently through my briefs, oh god, that bastard. I was already rock hard, and he was stroking my cock like an obedient puppy. They were conspiring together. He was going to turn my own dick against me, that bastard, get it over on his side so I'd be powerless to resist...

Fabric slid down my ass, and then my package was flapping free. A flash of orange caught my peripheral vision, and I twisted and strained to look up. I saw him, leaned casually on one of the shelves, a playful smirk on his face.

"Safety word time," he sang. "If you desire a quick and harmless escape from your situation, simply blink rapidly, and your binding disappears back into my bag of tricks from whence it came."

I stared up at him and whined in protest. He had me all wound up, and he knew it. Already I was justifying it to myself. Rachel would be fine! It wouldn't take long! I could clean it all up! No one would ever know! I whined again. My dick was turning against me. As usual.

But I didn't blink once.

Keith swaggered forward, and I lost visual contact with him as my collar restricted how far I could turn my head. "If, on the other hand, you're ready to forfeit what little pride you still retain and allow a tiny, defenseless little fox to fuck you blind, simply drop to your knees, spread your legs, hike your tail like the bitch you are, and let me up that smelly ass of yours."

God did I ever need to pant. My eyes half-lidded, my lips peeled from my clenched teeth, and I blew thick wet breath into my muzzle.

I was a little unsteady -- my posture was straining muscles that I rarely used for balance -- but I got to my knees. Butt up. Tail lifted welcomingly.

I was a good little bitch.

"Good girl," Keith cooed approvingly, wrapping both paws around my head and digging in with his little claws, scratching until my eyes sank shut and my ears slanted back. And then, YIPE!, a long, ticklish tongue probe in my right ear. He giggled in delight at my trembling. Bastard.

And then, the cold, wet feeling of lube against anus, the slow, comfortable warming as he rubbed it in, the smell of water-based jelly mixed with horny fox musk mixed with horny wolf musk mixed with aerated wolf ass. It briefly occurred to me that it might be difficult to get the smell out of the closet, but that was hardly a deal-breaker.

One finger. Two at once. Three at once. I spread out, taking them easily. I was in that magical frame of mind, that particular cocktail of hormones and mental state, that made anal probing almost euphoric. Ohhhh yeah. I was ready to let the world up my ass. With a little more coaxing, he could have gloved his whole paw in my colon, but I think he understood the imperative to strike quickly.

One of the nice things about having a boyfriend half my size is that I don't need much stretching before I'm ready to take him. His dick doesn't look like much, but it's not bad for a fox, and when it just slips in like a glove, ohgodohgodohgod, ohhh, that's right, come aaaaaall the way in, I want you all the way up to the hilt. I swallowed him, fucking swallowed him.

One paw wrapped around the base of my tail, clutching it like a bundle of weeds. One paw lightly draped across my butt. "Stand and Deliver", his favorite pose. It suited him. I had to be on my knees to compensate for our height difference. A fox standing tall, serene, in control. A wolf groveling prostrate before him.

Yeah. No question whatsoever that it turned us both on.

The room filled with the wet, meaty "slotch, slotch, slotch" of gooey dick plumbing gooey ass and the warm, smug murring of a rutting fox. I started to feel fitful and frustrated, making what noise I could through my muzzled face. There I was, wound up tight, gloriously humiliated, taking a fucking in the dry storage closet of the place where I worked. Hardest erection of my life. But my dick was just flapping free, nothing to hump against, not even a slight breeze to tickle it. It swelled, it screamed for release, but the relief never came. I could feel my blood boiling with sexual frustration, and I loved it. I rode it. I took it to dizzying, screaming highs....

And suddenly, a click. My eyes shot open, and I went cold all over. The door!

I strained, but I couldn't see what was happening. For a long, terrifying moment, I had a mental picture of Rachel coming in and seeing me. What would she think? That I'd been overpowered by a fox? That I was being raped? Or that I had welcomed it?

A frustrated click-click-click sound, and I felt relief wash over me. Keith had locked the door. Of course -- he had always been a bit random and spontaneous, yet he had an uncanny knack for planning ahead. There was a pounding, and I heard her shouting from the other side. "Jerry? What are you doing in there?" She sounded mad.

"Goodness," Keith mused quietly, slowing to just a couple teasing strokes as he spoke, "Sounds like she's going to come in after you." He leaned over on top of me a bit and dug his claws into my back idly. "Does she have the key to this door, Jerry?"

I pictured it in my mind. The roll of keys with the little green keychain sitting in the drawer under the cash register. All she had to do was fish it out, come back to the door...

"I suppose we could stop right now," Keith teased, not the slightest hesitation in his movements. "We could get you dressed again before she got that door open. No one would ever have to find out that you like little foxes that chain you up."

Oh god, he was loving the hell out of this. And I was helpless to react. I'd be free when he got off, and not a second sooner. If I was in a clearer frame of mind, I would have been mortified, but riding the high that I was on, I just felt myself glowing with delicious embarrassment. I saw the scene play out over and over in my mind. Rachel stood in front of the door, ring of keys in her paw, enraged at my absence, forced to slowly and patiently try one key after the other, methodically, relentlessly, until the door opened, and there she'd find me, chained up and bent over. And everyone would know I was a fox's bitch.

A loud YAPYAPYAP rung in my ears, and a moment later, about a hundred and twenty pounds of exhausted, grateful fox collapsed across my back. "Goodness," he purred, "That does take the edge off."

We spent just a moment in happy afterglow, a head pillowed on my back, two arms draped around my belly. Heh. He wasn't even big enough to hug me all the way around. And then, appeased at last, he withdrew and set about cleaning up his mess, humming a cheerful song to himself as he gathered up condoms and lubricant as if it was any other domestic chore.

I hadn't yet had an anally-induced orgasm, but man, did I have a lot of pre dripping. I got a sudden, electric slurp on the cock, but that was it. My turn would simply have to come later.

The muzzle came off, and then the handcuffs. Heh. They were the sets we always used for roleplaying. They had release switches instead of locks -- the "key" I swallowed was just a prop. It was a good thing, too, because he wasn't getting it back.

I straightened out my uniform again as he sprayed the closet with an odor killer. Just about twenty minutes after we'd started, you couldn't tell that about a thousand health and safety regulations had just been broken in here.

It was the perfect crime.

"So come on over to my place after work," he said invitingly as he zipped up his bag. "I'll truss you up good and we can snuggle on the couch. Oh, and bring me a medium veggie sandwich, I'll eat it off your crotch while I'm watching TV."

I took a deep breath. He had me wound up, and he wasn't going to give me any release for at least another two hours. I loved it. "Sounds like a date."

I led him back out to the front and stared longingly out the window as he left, watching that smug little "I just got laid" swagger he used to cross the parking lot, savoring that deliciously loose feeling my ass always got right after a good fuck. It was like every nerve in my body was tied directly to my anus, and he'd just unwound them all at once.

"Hello?!"

I blinked. Rachel. "What?"

"I said, 'I could've used your help back there.'" she fumed. "I had two customers while you were gone. Like, at once."

I glanced over to the register. Well, so she had. We had recorded exactly two more dinner tickets than we had the last time I checked. "I'm sorry," I said as genuinely as I could.

"Right," she agreed. "So you watch the front, I'm going to go outside for a little bit."

Well, fair enough, I had to admit it. When I was alone, I poured myself a glass of water and watched the dining room. My thoughts drifted easily away to laying on Keith's couch, my legs wrapped around his lap, a sub sandwich nestled next to my dick (through a protective layer of paper, of course). He'd pretend he was watching whatever stupid reality show was on, and we'd get to chatting. About anything and everything.

It was going to be a long two hours.