... A Broad, Purple Backside?!

The chorus of Chingling’s doing battle in your ears makes focusing on the nearing danger a struggle and a half. The splotches dotting your sight refuse to sit still, their feverish darting about further encouraged each time your beleaguered lungs draw breath. Warnings of approaching doom **** the cognizant parts of your brain, though the developing migraine handily takes priority and most of the early moments after the crash landing are spent groaning in the dust. It’s something of a small miracle that you are able to get an arm beneath your heaving chest to shakily prop yourself up to face the looming peril.

Your meagre efforts are rewarded with an unexpected eclipse of fluffy feline ass punctuated with a peek of golden back sack. The Liepards rump looms just overhead, its weighty jostle casting a cold shadow upon your shocked expression. Despite the fuzzy cheeks obscuring most of your view, the wry smirk of your aggressor can be seen peering over his left shoulder, delighting in your own horrified demeanor.

It is unknown if it’s the pain numbing your senses or a fear induced shellshock that now holds you in place, but one thing that is certain is that you lay frozen in time as Liepard clasps at either side of his hovering rear and begins to part the cheeks. Quivering but incapable of looking away from the threat, you watch as the plump backside gives way to a cute pink rim now stretching wide before your welling eyes. Subconscious cries for your limbs to obey slowly to prod them to action as the cat lazily proceeds to sway side to side, letting his sagging coin purse swing along to the rhythm. As the perverse performance continues, the pins and needles plaguing your folded arms subsides long enough for you to instinctively thrust them out before you in an attempt to push against the ground, backing away from the unrequested show. It is only after he sees your hands fully extended before you that the infected ‘dancer’ makes his move. Without warning, or so much as a care for your already battered form, the Liepard brings those fuzzy plums crashing down directly upon your dumbstruck face.

“Uuaahhhhaaa WWWAAaaa-”

*THUMFF*

“Nnmmmhhmmpp..!”

The startled scream has no chance against the furred meteor and is snuffed in an instant as your muzzle is driven back into the soft dirt, a deceptively heavy feline taking your head as his groaning seat. The impact, thankfully, isn’t as painful as you’d might expect, though the same padding that cushions the blow now fully encompasses your senses. Blinded as you are, the flickering glints of white shine all the brighter as the stars resume their swaray in your addled mind. Your focus is immediately drawn toward your hitherto forgotten forepaws when you feel the tight, vicelike, grip of your captor clasping them in his one of own to easily cease their weak flailing. Arms locked in front and legs too numb to be of any help, you are reduced to a subdued simpering as fresh panic takes hold. Whispering, grunting, and otherwise voicing your muffled displeasure, aside from being completely useless in addressing the mass adorning your muzzle, has the additional drawback of quickly depleting your already stifled oxygen supply. It isn’t long before each draw of air becomes more difficult than the last and even the blinking stars of pain begin to dim…

To fall into a **** unconsciousness, despite the humiliating circumstances, would have been something of a small comfort. Alas, just as he had proven earlier, this feral was far from done ‘appreciating’ your middling efforts. The legs that had been flanking either side of your face since the bastard took a seat can now be felt giving a vague brushing sensation as their owner shifts into a more comfortable position atop his prize. With teasingly slow execution, the doughy hindquarters begin to drag back and over your brow, flattening your drumming ears and resting most of his weight where your skull meets your scruff. The pressure sapping your willpower doesn’t lessen much, but the change does allow your **** nose to poke through his thighs, offering you a much needed inhale of fresh… o-of fresh..

Hoping to fill your lungs with a daze-clearing breath, you find that the cat's game is in full swing as your nostrils get a full dose of the man's golden sack now draped atop your nose. Inherent disgust crinkles your muzzle and the immediate revulsion to such brash treatment sends what's left of your ebbing adrenaline coursing through your veins, prompting shakes and furious bucks in an attempt to unseat the smarmy pervert. The Liepard takes it all in good humor though, his balance irrefutably secure and confidence in your fate without question, as he rides out what’s left of your dreams of escaping what’s in store. He is vindicated in less than a minute when all your tantrum accomplishes is to leave you withered and gasping, each huff taking in more of that spicy musk built up during your brawl.

He is content to let you pant and whine beneath him for a time, his free hand idling stroking at a blooming erection stirred to life by your misery. Flush in the face and unable to do anything to stop his amorous fiddling, you can only drown in his scent as the air grows heated around his excited genitals. Tears burn your cheeks as the horrid scene transpiring above plays at your guilt ridden thoughts.

I can’t… I was going to help…

Your self pity is interrupted when the crushing pressure is suddenly lifted, your unexpected freedom jumbling your already shattered contemplations. Just as you regain the clarity to reason, plans to start tugging at the forepaw clutching your wrists in place already forming, a heavy hind kick digs into your left side. The cheap shot takes you by surprise, rattling your ribs and stealing much of the tainted air you’d managed to gulp down. Still, it accomplishes the cat's intended goal, forcing you to flip over in agony and coming to rest upon your back, trying to curl inward to conceal your newest bruise.

Fresh groans will have to wait as the mass you’d recently been relieved of comes back with a vengeance, plopping down directly over your moaning maw. A satisfied hiss can be heard as your view is filled with his nethers once more, though this time they aren’t so casual in their application. After a few seconds of getting himself resettle and ensuring that your wrists remain in his possession, the pear sized sack hanging over your face is drawn up and over out of view, replaced by the moist rump cheeks you’d grown oh so accustomed to. Then, before you can think of responding to the change of venue, the sagging balls plap once more against your forehead. Finding his preferred groove, the vivacious facesitter decides upon a pace and rhythm for his obscene grinding.

How can this… I’m s-so useless…

Dour musings can’t shelter you from either the guilt of your failure nor the rough treatment your wincing face is receiving. Through your clenched eyelids you can still hear the feverish slaps of slickened meat interspersed with pants of lust fueled grunts of wanton pleasure. Back and forth, nuts to taint, over and over he rides your defeated face for his own selfish desires until finally the dam gives way and you feel him go ridged above. As his legs clamp tight over your quivering muzzle, you feel his orgasm hit punctuated by a blood chilling roar. While his thighs shield most of you from his infected load, they exact a dire price in that the compress of his hips form a near perfect seal over your mouth and nose.

Unable to steal a single gasp during his virus enhanced climax, what little energy that remains quickly crumps as the shots of thick seed line the dirt beyond. You never know how long the release lasts, having passed into merciful slumber around the ninth or so spurt, but it might be considered a small kindness in the face of what's to come…

The Liepard’s cock had been getting quite the workout this afternoon. The first, heavenly release he’d rung out by riding the foolish little kitten’s face into the ground had been so divine that it had irked him considerably that the weakening had the audacity to clock out before he’d gotten another round. Not one to waste a good thing, the purple furred predator opted to use that comfortable muzzle for another, more ‘intimate’ session of debauchery. After lining that lolling face up with his eager pucker once more, the cat then dropped the hammer with such **** that most of the tiny male's head was taken by his snug tunnel in a single plunge.

From that first bit of anal ecstasy, a well of white hot desire born of ravenous greed would spur him on, taking more of the inferior man's body with each lascivious hip drop. Lost the the throes of unbridled need, his penis quickly rose to the task a second time, demanding it’s fair share of the encore. Another tremendous plummet would squeeze the dark furred morsel’s torso inside his rear entry, sealing his fate as nothing more than improvised sex aid and soon, a delightful midday snack~

It was just as the limp kitty’s heels caught at the mouth of the Liepard rectum that an echo of that previous high tickled the cat's prostate. Anus gripping tight at the Sneasels ankles, another powerful orgasm would wreak havoc on the larger males system, ending in more steaming ropes of blazing passion left to coat the rapidly damping walkway. When at last this fresh climax began to wane, the dotted feline collapsed into a mess of his own making, far too satisfied to feel any sense of shame. As he lay there in the wake of another glorious victory for the growing corruption, he would barely register the last glimpse of a fallen hero's hindpaws as they slipped between his cheeks. All that would remain of the once optimistic traveler was a discarded satchel and the low grumbles of a thankful belly…