Your rub your face, exhaling deeply and sharply at the pain. Papers. You just wanted his damn papers and in seconds you were on the floor of the bar. "Damn the bastard" you hiss under your breath. Your vision's still coming back into focus, everything's a blur and the street lights seem even brighter than usual. It feels like you're hammered despite not touching a drop of liquor. It's been a long time since someone got you that good. Brass knuckles maybe? It doesn't matter.
 
Shifting uneasily in your boots at the situation as the cool night air of autumn fills your lungs one of your fellows takes a statement from you. As you report you attempt to fix your uniform up to at least give the illusion of being professional, but it's to little avail. It turns out the guy you questioned was a banker they'd been trying to get their hands on for quite some time. Big player in the attempted civil war that put them in this position in the first place among other things. Man just couldn't keep his hands out of Germany's pockets. The exact kind of guy you've all been working on deporting to who knows or who cares where. Just out. Though you feel your moment of triumph will most likely be one of ridicule from being so thoroughly manhandled by the rat.
 
You finish your brief statement with a nod as the man closes his notebook and heads back toward the squad car, throwing a look over his shoulder and, you could swear, chuckling. Yeah, you're getting shit for this for the next few weeks for sure. "Go put some ice on that, blödmann!" the men say with a laugh before piling into the car to take the new prisoner away for processing. Once more you're alone in the street. Dirty and disheveled like the day you were taken in.
 
You finally notice the taste of copper fills your mouth. Maybe you hit that floor harder than you thought after all? Turning around to leave the scene you tilt your head and spit, a gloved hand quickly whipping across your face in retaliation. It's sobering not that you'd had a drop to drink yet. The blunt initial impact gives way to a sharp stabbing pain then a burning sting. You snap to attention, your face now most assuredly bleeding if you ever get the feeling back in it.
 
Before you stands your officers "pet" bearing her fangs with a glare that could cut to bone. "Vat zee hell do you zink you're doing?!" she barks, spit launching from her mouth to your face as she raises a fingerless gloved fist up to your face, her index finger extended and the sharp nail on the end dangerously close to you. "You must ALVAYS pe on your pest pehaffior! Sdand up schtraight! Nein sbitding und nein lozing fights to fermin! Fix your uniform, you're ein disgrace! Jawohl!" Hurriedly you work to fix your hair, straighten your uniform and generally try to clean up a bit more. You'd seen her like this a few times and it's tough to stop her when she gets on a tare. "Zis is petder, ja?" She says straightening her back and inadvertently puffing up her rather firm and sizable chest. Her jet black outfit barley seeming to contain it. You steal a quick glance as she takes a step forward, her boots clacking on the cobblestone. Once more she reaches for you, but only to brush your lapel this time. "Yes Ma'am! Sorry Ma'am!" you shout in response trying to suppress your blush and actually succeeding. "Kood to hear zoltier" She responds, a feint trace a smile across her face as she continues to review you from scrutinizing blue eyes behind her monocle. "You men look zo much petder ven you vear it right." Again you try your damndest not to elicit any untoward tells and simply shout another "Yes Ma'am, thank you ma'am!".
 
For the second time this week you have to stop yourself from staring at her. In regards to her, You have to admit that much like your leader you're sort of a dog person. However unlike your leader, your interest is far less... wholesome. In the past few years some apparently previous top secret experiments had bore fruit. This woman is a result of those labors and what many were quick to call godless abominations at first. A canine, fierce and loyal as any other dog, but that walked and talked like a man. Well, a woman. You happened to find them irresistible for whatever reason. You swallow hard at the thought and calm yourself. They were assigned to officers just as any other dog to help keep morale up while providing useful functions on patrol. However due to their... "hybrid" nature they were also good at keeping tabs on people. Perhaps to a fault.
 
This particular one was named Ingrid. A doberman woman who stood just at 1.8 meters. While naturally just a bit shorter than you, with her boots on she was able to look down on you. Which she seemed to prefer in the psychological sense as well judging by the few interactions you've had with her in the past at least. Though she was fiercely loyal and by the books, she had a penitent for bending the rules slightly when it came to her own regalia due to the challenges that came with clothing and fur. Namely her infamous short pencil skirt and the required paired leggings and garter to abide by the female officers dress code. Though you're not sure how thigh high stockings and boots were more comfortable for someone in that position than the standard issue pants, but you you've never felt the need to complain about that. The rest of her outfit remained standard issue, though a bit tight due to measurement errors at the tailor due to the lack of her kind and sex in such positions to get a feel for.
 
 The snapping of fingers jolts you out of your state. You really need to stop spacing out like that... "Hast ein Wahn oder was?" She sneers, placing one hand on her hip as she sees you come to. "S-sorry Ma'am. I just drifted off there for a moment." You reply, still at attention. "At eaze, I zink you're cutting off circulazion to your prain. Arh Vat little of it zere may pe."

She places her hands behind her back, her leather gloves creaking as one hand wraps itself around the others wrist. Once more she puffs out her chest and inhales deeply, turning her nose up at you. Her black and orange features catching in the street lights. Conversely your posture worsens a hair as per her request. She begins circling you slowly. The tap of boot on stone. Great... she's doing it again.
 
"Vat is ein young man like you doing out on ein fritay night alone? Are you truly zo dedicaded zat you sbend your free time vorking, poy?" "Er... to tell the truth Ma'am, that was more or less an unexpected surprise." you respond as she rounds your back. "And one that would have been so much better had I not hesitated" you think to yourself. "Zo you came here alone... not vith your comrates or in combany. Arh vat are ve to do vith you?" she breaths in your ear behind you accenting it with a heavy sigh.

"Come, lets get you cleaned up" she says now passing you and walking down the sidewalk, her hips naturally swaying. You pause for a moment, soaking her pity in like perfume. She had a strut that could even put the harlots in Paris to shame and you linger for a few blissful moments to soak it in before rushing up to walk by her side a pace or two behind. "Thank you Ma'am. Sorry for the trouble Ma'am."

You've never really been good with people. Women seemed too distant and overly selective preferring the same sorts and the men were often far too energetic for you on average. Yet despite this lack of commonality you had joined the party, the movement, for it's projection of strength and promise of self improvement. Of the avenues you could take and the clearly lit paths to get there among other things. You were making progress in honing your body and mind, but not at the rate of your peers. This women exuded that mentality from every fiber of her being. When Ingrid was assigned to your unit it had resulted in many mixed feelings among your peers, however you suspected it may actually be easy to talk to her since she was first and foremost an animal. Wrong. First and foremost she was an officer. You learned that quickly and painfully. It had been just two years and you still feel pain in your chest during the rain from daring to act so casually with her. Where she was leading you, you couldn't say, but the silence didn't suit you. You occasionally cough or clear your throat. She lets out a low droning sigh. She rounds the bend.

*A motorcycle. Military issue without all the trim a civilian from a nation enslaved to debt and bankers may have owned. Jet black and simple. A well designed tool for a singular purpose. Many things had become elegant in this way in the past decade or so. You stop in your tracks and she continues her pace stopping at the side of the machine. She quickly throws her leg over it and adjusts herself and uniform for a moment. Gripping the handlebars she pulls herself forward sliding on the small seat and she turns to you, the street light reflecting in her eyes. Like any other animals eyes. Glowing with fire. A chill runs down your spine as if your reminded of the absurdity of your situation, but once more your thoughts are interrupted. "Get on herr Oberschütze."

You comply, promptly slinging your own leg over and coming to rest on the small section of seat afforded to you. Though you attempt to keep your distance, your professionalism, these vehicles aren't meant to be ridden like this and you find your superiors stubby tail pressed against your belt buckle. "Come, ve'll get you pack und cleaned up. Arh! Grab hold now. Vouldn't vant to loze another tonight vould ve?" she taunts. At least you think. You reach around her sides, grasping at her torso, her jacket the only thing krrping you from a more intimate moment. Her body heat radiaties through the thick material. Your fingertips brush against the would be underside of her bosom and for a moment you think to flex your fingers, but decide against it. The autumn wind kicks for a moment ruffling your hair and both your uniforms. It carrys the scent of fresh bread. "Hibs Oberschütze. Hibs." the doberman growls in an annoyed tone.

As though she were made of fire you rip your hands from her and instead lightly grasp her hips doing your best not to think about how this was turning out to be a lot like the first time you went dancing. "Petder. Old tight." The engine roars to life sending a jolt through your body, its head lamp floods the street with a dull yellow light. Engrid throws back the kickstand and leans forward. In seconds the two of you are speeding down dimly lit city roads, the wind stinging your eyes and whipping your lapels as you try desperately to keep your feet from hitting the pavement.

Luckily it's not long before you become accustomed to the motorcycle and soon you're leaning into turns with her and enjoying the ride; watching the town whip past you in a blur. Naturally your thoughts start to wonder as you make the trip back. No use trying to talk over an engine this loud. The thoughts start off simple enough, the usual fantasies of life and happiness. Buying a home, finally being free of the vermin infesting your nation, starting a family. Your mind quickly fills with thoughts of the fairer sex. Of the girls you went to school with, of passerby's on the streets, to the pinup poster even in the barracks. You shift in your seat a moment, hugging Engrid perhaps a little tighter than you had before, you're not too sure. Fine women all of them, but none quite so... primal as the one right in front of you. In your hands but beyond your grasp.

Before you know it you're imagining her doing all sorts of things, quickly she begins posing just like the calendar... but maybe in some lace? No leat-... You snap yourself out of it and look down in horror. Pressed flesh against your "officer" your manhood stands at full attention, wrapped tight in your trousers, her skirt ridden up and panty line exposed. "Scheisse!" You quickly try to fill your mind with something else, anything else. A rush of images, profane things... The town keeps whipping by. You try to scoot back, no more seat left. "Go, go down" you beg. The bike begins to slow. An intersection. You swallow, but even saliva has abandoned you. Your throat is suddenly dry and hoarse. The bike stops. You grit your teeth. A car putts on by and the bike starts back up. The two of you slide backwards a little from the momentum. Nothing more.

Had she not noticed? No, impossible. Or perhaps she had and she was not impressed? No, surly you would have heard her reprimand you by now regardless. You check your sides as if to assure yourself that you hadn't died. Maybe your erection had faded? No, you feel yourself twitch involuntarily, your cock further riding up your pant leg, brushing against her ass cheek. Another block goes by. A stop. Engrid shifts in her seat, her hips swaying from side to side. Her stubbly little tail catches your member and the two strain against each other for a moment before it finishes the flick sending a shudder through your spine. Her grip tightens then loosens on the handlebars. The bike revs again. Then goes back to idling. You check left, right, behind... no cars, an empty street. The wind blows.

"Oberschütze" she sighs, "is zomething zee matder?" Despite the cold air around you you begin to feel pinpricks across your entire body. Was your uniform always this hot? This wet with sweat? She tilts her head to look over her shoulder, street lights highlighting the glare on her face. "Uh... I... N-no." you stumble over yourself. "I agree" she snarls, her features softening a bit, but expose her long dagger-like teeth. She turns back around, grinding back against you, revealing more of her panty line. "Iz chust zee fiprazions, berfectly nadural. Nothing to vorry apout herr Oberschütze, ja?" though you can barley make it out as she revs the engine before taking off again.
 
It isn't long before you're at another stop. A few cars pass. Simple makes and models, a supply truck pulls into the grocer across the street. The two of you sit there as the engine continues to rumble, it's your turn to go. The car behind you honks and Engrid waves them around, killing the engine and throwing the kickstand down in one motion. She stands up, bow legged and straddling the machine. A few dried leaves scrape along the sidewalk as the wind continues to blow. "Oberschütze." "... yes?" "It's cold, ja?" She doesn't give you time to respond, her hands are at her hips... this is it, that beating you've been expecting. You close your eyes in acceptance and feel the bike rock side to side slightly.
 
You open your eyes hesitantly, Engrid looks back with half lidded eyes, fangs bore over a bitten lip. Her hand placed firmly on her now totally exposed ass, spreading her glistening womanhood. "Zen as your zuberior I orter you to zeek schelder." she says her voice trembling. You blink looking up and down, your mind blank and your eyes wide. "What?"
 
"NOW!" She barks, her lips curled. Not needing to be told twice you immediately begin fumbling with your belt. Was it always this hard to take off? No your hands are shaking. Seconds feel like decades and at last you finally find yourself free and exposed to the cool air. Your breathing shallow and quick. You're not quite sure of a lot of things, but you're sure as hell not going to let this slip away. You grip your base and angle your cock down, slowly scooting up as she grips the handlebars with her free hand and slides back. Her wet and ready lips kiss your tip and you feel her heat. It's like a furnace.
 
You come together slowly, each of her interior walls ribs ripples and folds squeezing at every inch of you. She lets out a low growling moan as you slide deeper and deeper into her until she's fully hilted on you flesh to flesh. She shivers and her already tight sex clamps down further, suckling at your intruding rod. You sit and marvel at what the hell just happened. You're currently balls deep in a dog woman. Your superior. What the fuck happened with your life to get you here? Your stomach muscles tighten and the color flushes from your face as if she were draining every last ounce of heat from you. "Now ve need to make up for lost time itiot. Grab old."
 
With a metallic tap, the kickstand is already up. Your hands shoot to her thighs this time, grabbing hold, her soft fur prickles your fingers, the flesh beneath conforming to your hand. Ignition... good lord the ignition. The engine roars to life, sending its vibrations deep into both of your cores. She writhes in place a moment, her cunt painfully gripping you not unlike a fist trying to wring out the last dime from a debtor. She howls and her hand twitches. With a burst of speed you ride out her orgasm as the motorcycle ducks and weaves between cars in the night, your crotches bouncing up and down in makeshift thrusts as you hit uneven stones or potholes. You dare not thrust for fear of ending something so soon, but now you know why she prefers motorbikes... and the mad woman keeps revving that damned engine over and over, each time sending a new pleasure spike through you. Your balls firmly planted on the seat and bearing the brunt of this attack along with assuredly her clit. Before you know it the leather seat is soon slick with canine arousal and you struggle to stay in place as she continues her death defying maneuvers through the city.
 
Thankfully the bumps are few in number, but every time you hit one yo curse as the hit on the way down always brings you to the edge. You cling to other thoughts desperate to postpone your climax, but you fear the worst. At the speed you're going you'd be back at the barracks in a few quick minutes. That's when it hits you, you're going in a different direction. The bumps become more frequent but shallower. The air a little crisper. You squint tying to see through the wind and already you've came to a skidding halt in a little patch of forest overlooking the barracks a few miles away.
 
Engrid cuts off the engine and hits the kickstand. Without missing a beat she stands revealing a thin trail of sparkling liquid beads in the moonlight that connect her to her seat. Your girth twitches in her absence, longing for home. Her feminine scent hits you like a prized boxer. No sooner has she reached her full height than you found yourself instinctively launching yourself at her full force, your mouth open and greedily lapping at her sopping pussy.

Wet fur tickles your nose as your tongue hungrily traces her quivering lips before scooping at her entrance like a dog drinking. The irony lost on you. And you... you are a thirsty beast. Your hands grip white knuckled at her rear, prying them apart as your force yourself deeper and deeper into her, her sweet yet gamy taste filling your mouth and lighting it on fire. You pull away panting before you feel her hand on the back of your head, pressing you back into her where she grinds her crotch against your face with a loud growling moan.

She says something in a low husky tone, but you can't make it out, your mind is all but totally numb. You begin probing her with your tongue, inch by inch until you find the sides of your mouth in danger from splitting as you attempt to reach into her wanting cavern. Your hands pry her open further still and she presses into you in kind as your teeth come down, biting at Engrid on her firm rump. Inhale. Exhale. You gobble at her as though a starving man eating a peach for the first time. Inhale. Exhale. You dive back in and continue to feverishly lap at her inner walls causing the dog woman to convulse yet again. Your hands dig in to her rump, fortifying their position in a death-grip, straining your eager mouth to fit as much of your tongue into her as possible. Savoring her drool which quickly becomes a flood. Both hands press into the back of your head as she howls filling your mouth to choking as she drowns you with herself. You take a swig and it hits you like a shot of straight whisky. You must own this bitch...

You pucker up your lips and blow her essence back into her hole as she quivers, standing you can't feel your legs and your uniform is soaked, yet you still stand firmly at attention. She sighs in anticipation bending forward. Grasping the handlebars she looks over her shoulder presenting her dripping sex. "Vuck me." You leap at her with savage fury, your hands grip at her hips as you pull her toward you, slamming into her like a man possessed and dousing yourself in her essence. She grips the handlebars to steady herself and lets out a loud scream as you press into her with abandon, the wet violent sounds of your "love" polluting the evening atmosphere of the clearing.

"VUCK ME! VUCK ME! VUCK ME!" She howls yet again, gritting her teeth as you continue your assault. You lean forward over top of her, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, her hips tremble and buck against you as she quivers. Slowly you slide your arms up her sides savoring the prickles of her soft short fur as you infiltrate her jacket until you reach her firm chest. The zipper is quickly flung open and her womanly shame exposed. Greedily for fondly the mounds as she whimpers through clenched teeth, teasing and flicking her erect nipples and inhaling deeply her scent from the nape of her neck. Your hands cross and grip at her shoulders. Your tongue runs up her neck to her ears. You bite. "Work will set you free my pet" you coo.

Engrid moans and begins thrusting into you, her arms quaking and struggling to maintain her grip. Maintaining her strength she rolls and rocks over your member, keeping you wedged deep inside as she contorts, her ribbed love tunnel trying to color itself white on its own. Dear dear sweet mercy does she do a good job of it. You bite down on her neck trying to hold it in, attempting to force any thought into your head other than the pure burning of primal lust. "Oh zo zoon mein little Oberschütze?" she taunts in ragged breaths.

"Nein meine Hündin Offizier. Nein." you whimper, your breath heavy. "Mmmmm" she says, letting go of the handlebars and resting her arms crossed with her head atop them on the gas canister, giving you better leverage to her rump "Zen broffe it. Ride me. Like. Broperty." She clenches at the last word as if to accentuate the challenge. You scream, but your lungs are empty. Slowly you begin to grind back against her in circular motions, and her the opposite way, her tail pressing into your pelvic bone, the sound of wet dough being stirred beneath you. "Zat's et Oberschütze... Zat's et...".

The two of you stop in sync and her hips rise and fall, rolling against you, her lips gripping you tightly as her cunt threatens to incinerate you. She giggles, followed by a stern bark "Bick up zee bace vorm!"

You grip her tightly and pull back. The entirety of her weight rests on your shaft, pressing you into her seemingly fathomless depths. Your tip finally kisses her womb and she yelps in surprise and pain. Still clinging to her like a toy, you jackhammer her on the seat of her motorcycle, her pert chest bouncing up and down between your arms as you hold your grip firm. You inhale having forgotten to breath and she chuckles for a moment before dig into her with renewed strength and vigor, she turns over her shoulder and you feel her hand on the back of your head. Your "lips" meet.

She opens her maw and her tongue effortlessly pushes past your teeth and slithers down your throat threatening to asphyxiate you. You gag and she pulls out, lapping at your cheek with lidded eyes, you dive back in again, your own tongue tracing her fangs and savoring her taste. "Fick mich wie eine französische Hure." Something in you breaks. You howl in response and push her forward, standing again, and catching her arms, pulling them back for leverage and suspension, her breasts hanging free in the cool air, her back arched as you ram her abused cunt like a savage eager for plunder. Her wrists twist and struggle in your grip, but it's too firm. Her rump bounces off your thighs with a force your sure could shatter bone as the bike beneath the two of you rocks in place generously coated in the fruits of your coupling. Then it hits you. The flash of a leg across your throat. You're knocked off your feet and the world spins.

Back meets ground with a hard thud and your wind is gone. Your vision clears and straddling atop you on the cold ground is Engrid wearing a smug toothy grin. Her tongue darts out between her fangs and runs across them. Sharp nails dig into your chest through your uniform satisfied to have thrown you down. "Zis is much petder ja? In blace vere you pelong." You struggle. She raises her hips almost to the point your cock frees itself before slamming back down again. "Don't get up. Arh! Chust keep up..." She bounces up and down on you with fervor, her hips crashing into your pelvis. Her eyes lock with yours, narrowed and predatory. The doberman bears her fangs. Her nails dig into you threatening to pierce through the fabric of your uniform. The canine leans back, exposing your joined sexes to you for the first time and feverishly rubs at her clit before wrapping her index and middle finger around your base and squeezing. She begins bobbing once more. Slowly. What you can best determine as a smile creeps across her face as she strokes and fucks you in place.

"Engrid..." you gasp as she sits in place. Her gloved hand leaves its station at her southern quarters and slowly drags its way up her belly. Between her breasts. Up her neck. Her mouth. She winds her tongue around her digits as if to savor your combined taste as she bounces gently up and down an inch or two.  Her land leaves her tongue. Over a breast. She squeezes hard. Leather creaks and she moans. Down her sides to her hips and across your chest to your hand. Her other arm shoots forward and forcibly grabs you by the wrists. She moves from a squat to a kneel and places your hands on her chest. Her hard nipples pressing into your palms. She grinds forward and backward crashing upon you like a wave. You squeeze and she rocks harder. Quicker. She's panting, eyes still narrow. You can feel her heart racing at your touch. She slows and begins hard thrusting against you, burying your cock into her, ensuring every ripple of her pussy feels every inch of you. It clings like a vise. "Kum für mich mein Übermensch. Kum für Engrid. Für Deutschland." 

Your hands find her hips with swiftness and ease and you spill forth into her. Wave after wave of white ropes invades your officer. Your vision goes and you thrash as orgasm blitzkriegs through your body. She grips the base of your red swollen member and quickly dismounts, dripping white from her battered cunt and quickly falls to the ground, opening her mouth wide, her tongue lolling out and resting on the underside of your girth, cradling your swollen balls as she pumps burst after hearty thick white erupt into her hot mouth and crash against its roof. You thrust against her and she allows it. Heaving you lie limp and at mercy on the cold wet ground. You lay in bliss for what feels like eternity and the blink of an eye before Engrid towers above you once more, her hand slick with her own fluid and her cunt and jaws dripping white. She licks her chops and walks back over to her bike. She sits and readjusts her cloths savoring your taste a while longer before she looks down at you once more. "Don't chust lase apout, zere's vork to do."