Snap
The chase was on but didn’t last long. Dodger’s legs trembled as the two hulking dobermans stood between him and the door, casting their long shadows over the smaller street dog. Outnumbered and outmatched, Dodger still wouldn’t go down without a fight. He squared up.
“Come on, man. You think you got a chance?” said Roscoe, stepping closer with DeSoto following suit. “Once we’re done with you, I think we’ll go back upstairs and rough up that owner of yours. Even though he looks rough enough as he is.”
Dodger’s blood boiled. He saw red, then charged only to fall nose-first on the concrete floor as DeSoto tripped him. He stood up shakily, clutching his snout.
“Dodger, Dodger… Is this us losing our sense of humor?” teased Roscoe.
He felt hopeless. A single purebred doberman would’ve been enough to beat him in a fight ten times in a row. To go up against two was suicide. Still, he couldn’t give up. Not for Fagin, not for Oliver, and not for himself. He squared up again and waited for an attack.
When that attack came there was nothing he could do. Roscoe threw a single punch that flew fast as thunder and landed like it too right on his gut. The air in his lungs was promptly ejected and his knees gave up.
The fight was over, now it was time to suffer the consequences.
Roscoe stepped behind him and lifted him off the floor in a full-nelson hold that left the smaller mutt as vulnerable as he could be.
“R-Roscoe, please…” Dodger wheezed, still catching his breath.
“Shoulda known better than to come here, Dodger. Now we get to have some fun with ya. Ain’t that right, DeSoto?”
“Yep. Now it’s fun time,” snarled DeSoto, cracking his knuckles. “Who knows, you might even get your sense of humor back.”
And then it started. Blow after blow after blow shook Dodger to his core. Incessant. Unfaltering. He felt himself becoming weaker with each sharp blast of pain to his gut, to his ribcage, to his face. His hold on consciousness started to fade.
When the cruel doberman finally decided to show a smidge of mercy and give his victim a break, Dodger was on the edge of passing out. Everything above his waist felt as if it was on fire and he could barely register Roscoe’s laughter.
“Don’t pass out on us, fun time’s not over yet.”
“Still haven’t tenderized ya enough, Dodger.” DeSoto emphasized his threat with a hard poke to the mutt’s belly button. To the surprise of everyone in the room, Dodger let out a snicker. The dobermans’ ears perked up and they gave each other quizzical looks that turned into knowing smiles as they silently agreed that it was time for Dodger’s torture to take a different direction.
“Well, well, well!” said Roscoe. “Looks like you’re starting to get your sense of humor back, after all!”
“Either that or his belly’s just as ticklish as a pup’s,” added DeSoto with a quick lick inside Dodger’s belly button, prompting another giggle from him, to both dobermans’ tail-wagging satisfaction.
With an ear-to-ear grin, DeSoto brought his snout closer to Dodger’s taut stomach until his hot breath ruffled the mutt’s fur. He stayed there for a few agonizing seconds before taking a deep breath.
Dodger could guess what was coming.
PFFFFFTTTTTT
The doberman blew a long raspberry, moving his snout up, down and sideways as it pressed against the smaller dog’s stomach.
“BWAAAHAHA!! P-PLEHEASE!”
Weak as he was after the beating, Dodger still struggled, helplessly paddling his legs in the air in a futile attempt to break free from Roscoe’s hold. When the doberman ran out of breath he simply pulled back, inhaled, and blew another raspberry. Over and over again.
“Ya know, Dodger, if I knew you were this ticklish before we woulda just started with that!” teased Roscoe, ticklishly licking the back of the mutt’s ears. ”Breaks ya better than a beating.”
Eventually, the raspberries stopped but the tickling didn’t. Two fingers poked into Dodger’s sides before dragging them up towards the exposed armpits. Pointy claws assaulted the soft skin of those hollows, pushing just hard enough to inflict a maddening tickling sensation but not hard enough to cause injury.
Dodger let out a whining howl followed by a torrent of pitiful giggles. An adequate soundtrack to the equally pathetic struggle he was putting on. A cocktail of emotions stirred in his panicked mind. Fear, worry, helplessness… arousal. Being at the mercy of two muscular hounds who wanted nothing more than to tickle and humiliate him for no other reason than sadistic pleasure made him feel things he’d rather not. Doubly so considering the fact that his owner was currently upstairs begging for his life. Still, his body didn’t lie, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before his torturers took notice.
“GAHAHA STAHAP” He screamed again as DeSoto licked his stomach, the doberman’s tongue was wide enough to cover half his stomach lengthwise. The claws didn’t leave his armpits for a second.
Lick, lick, lick. Each touch of the tongue felt electric, like a bomb of arousal going off and engulfing his whole body in its shockwave. Inevitably, his cock started to peek out of his sheath. Roscoe was the first to notice.
“I think he’s secretly starting to like this, DeSoto.”
“Oh?” DeSoto gave a long lick to the emerging erection. “Wouldja look at that. Didn’t peg you for a freak, Dodger.” He stroked his own boner as he licked Dodger’s, using his free hand to tease his stomach as did so.
Dodger huffed. “G-Guys… haha pl-please stop…”
“Didn’t catch that last part, Dodger,” laughed DeSoto. “Ya gotta beg louder!” With that, he fluttered his claws underneath the mutt’s hanging scrotum, cutting off the pleasure with more torturous tickles. Roscoe added to the treatment by ticklishly licking his ears from behind.
It didn’t last long before his arousal got the better of him once again. He climaxed, shooting half a dozen ropes of pent-up cum which DeSoto managed to narrowly avoid.
“And there he blows!” said Roscoe, whose own red rocket pressed firmly against Dodger’s thigh. “Think he’s got more in him?”
“Let’s find out.”
The next moments registered as a blur in Dodger’s overtaxed brain. They kept tickling him in all of his worse places. DeSoto poked, prodded and raked his claws all over his torso, not sparing his nipples and belly button.
He became very acquainted with the doberman’s tongue as the torture session went on and, by the end, he was covered in slobber all the way from his pits to his balls.
At one point, they mentioned Oliver. “Now what would that cat think, seeing his hero in such a pathetic state.” The remark made him furious but there was nothing he could do.
Roscoe, for his part, kept to licking Dodger’s ears and neck given how his arms were occupied with holding the poor mutt still for his partner to torture.
He came a couple more times whenever DeSoto jerked him off. Each forced orgasm came with a spike in sensitivity that left him begging for an end to the torture. It didn’t help that DeSoto kept jerking him post-orgasm.
In time, the dobermans climaxed as well, as DeSoto helped himself and his partner relieve tension between bouts of tickling their victim.
The end of the torture came when a loud noise was heard from upstairs, catching the dobermans’ attention. They dropped Dodger on the floor and ran out the door to check on their owner.
Through teary eyes, Dodger made out the shape of a cat coming through the door. Oliver!
“Are you okay?” asked the orange tabby, helping the mutt to his feet.
“Y-Yeah. I’ll live.”
“I thought you said you were tough.”
Dodger grinned. Seeing Oliver helped lift his spirits in the face of such dire circumstances.
“Well, they are twice my size.”
“Then why were you laughing?”
The mutt’s ears perked up and his cheeks turned a shade redder. “I just have a good sense of humor. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”