To Own a Wolf: Part 5

By Lithier

Locke is just getting settled in at college when his mysterious uncle sends him a gift: a fully trained sex slave. Now, she's in a crisis, and the two of them will have to try to understand each other to get through this, with a little help...

This furry story contains intense, graphic sexual scenes featuring the following themes: Male/Male/Hermaphrodite, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Spanking, Themes of Slavery, Wolf, Snake, and Dragon Furries

Praise for the rough draft of To Own a Wolf, Parts 1-5, from the community:
"Of course, i also particularly enjoy the assertive slave."
"I loved it, please, if you ever get the urge to write anything more, do it."
"You have real talent."
"Generally I would say I'm not into furry but as [...] says, you have real talent. Enough talent to make furry sex interesting and if I might say so; hot. And beyond the sex I find your stories warm and snuggly."
"Good read, had a lot of fun with it."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lithier
• Release date: Oct 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311531018

Lithier

Lithier has been writing short erotic stories since 2010, commonly featuring furries, fetishistic exploration, and themes of identity and philosophy through the most unlikely means. He is also in the process of developing My Very Own Lith, a text-based flash game based on his character, Lith. Lithier does not share many details of his identity, but prefers that his works and words online be judged by their own merit.

Book preview

To Own a Wolf - Part Five

by Lithier

Text Copyright 2015 Lithier

All Rights Reserved

Cover Image by Clockwork Caribou

This story contains intense, graphic sexual scenes featuring the following themes:

- Male/Male/Hermaphrodite

- Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Spanking

- Themes of Slavery

- Wolf, Snake, and Dragon Furries

What is Furry?

A young wolfess, no more than eight years old, set down a bloody, curved needle and a bundle of thread on the tile floor. She was kneeling over the corpse of a beaver, sprawled out on the floor in the middle of a small infirmary. A middle-aged skunk with large, weathered paws folded around his elbows watched over her as she began to wrap a freshly sewn wound on the corpse's arm with gauze. Her shallow breaths rasped loudly in the silence of the room as she wound the bandage around and around. The skunk pulled a watch out of the pocket of his white coat as the young wolfess tied up the dressing. The watch beeped under a press of his thumb, and the skunk frowned at the time displayed.

Hardly one second improvement. His voice was flat. Surprising, considering you skipped a step.

The girl's eyes widened, and darted over the corpse and the kit next to her. The skunk leaned down, sneering slowly. Do you WANT your master to die? You'd certainly be helping him along to an early grave if it takes you this long to dress a wound. And a festering infection from a wound with no antibiotic would most certainly see him suffer! Disgust surged in his voice as he laid down her crimes. He straightened, and pulled a rod from the table nearby. Specially made-- no marks. Only pain. Present yourself for punishment, whelp.

A sob broke from the wolfess at last, and she started sliding away, her head shaking slowly. Her back still ached all up and down either side. It had been a long, long day.

Stop. Where. You. Are. A hiss of barely restrained wrath rose in his throat. You would cower from punishment? Are you a slave, or are you a girl? The last word crawled off his tongue with disgust.

The wolfess froze. She swallowed, slowly, forcing down another sob. She shuffled closer to the skunk, turned to face him, and prostrated herself, her nose almost brushing the tiles. This one, the girl breathed, has failed. And requires punishment. She stared at the white squares between her paws, one faintly stained with blood. She waited for the pain to come.

A minute later, the skunk set down the rod with a sigh, turning to the quivering girl struggling not to curl up in a ball. There, now. He murmured with a faint smile. Let's start again, hm? He stepped past her to put a fresh hole in the corpse.

The sting of the rod would not fade for a day or