Match Made
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  fluffball


The two older foxes, a tod and a vixen, sat in well-padded leather armchairs and regarded each other in silence as the fire in the hearth snapped and crackled and the clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour.

Over the mantelpiece stood a shield mounted on the wall over two crossed riding crops. The shield bore the family coat of arms, divided into four squares of alternating black and blue with the upper blue square bearing a coiled silver whip. The motto beneath the coat of arms read, “Some are born to wield the whip; others are born to feel the whip.” The Pferdebändiger Family had high standards.

Which was precisely the problem.

Erhardt and Liesl Pferdebändiger, both natural dominants, had two children. The daughter of the family, young Kriemhild, had struck out on her own and was cutting a wide swath through the weaker segments of society in search of a proper mate for herself. The vivacious dominatrix was met with approval by her parents, and although she was their youngest child, she had received a larger portion of the family fortune.

No such approval was granted to the son of the family. Otho had early shown a predilection for the latter half of the family motto, to his parents’ distress and Kriemhild’s delight. The young tod was too submissive, and there were enough examples in the family history to indicate that Otho would go badly adrift without a strong woman to take him in paw.

The subject of Erhardt and Liesl’s mutual regard sat on a spotless marble-topped table between their chairs. It was a letter of introduction, presented in response to a letter from the couple who had solicited the writer’s possible interest. According to the letter, the vixen was an attractive prospect. Her list of references included a few distinguished names.

The letter’s writer was expected to arrive by coach very soon.

“Tzo,” Liesl said softly, hissing the word slightly like an adder about to strike.

Erhardt smiled. He adjusted his monocle and said, “Tzo. Zhe haz der rekvisite kvalifications, mein luff.”

The vixen he’d been married to for the past two decades nodded judiciously. “Ja, zhe haz.” Two pairs of vulpine ears perked at a very gentle tap of knuckles on the door to the sitting room, and Liesl raised her voice. “KOMM!”

The butler opened the door and bowed as a stocky vixen entered the room, pausing to glance around once before walking over to the Pferdebändigers. She had a few streaks of gray in her headfur, which was done up in a bun, and she was wearing a severely styled ankle-length brown dress and matching jacket, with a cream blouse and a jabot that matched the skirt-suit.

She studied the couple through her monocle before dropping a slight curtsy, her back ramrod straight. “Fräulein Ilse Diesel,” she said in a brusque, clipped voice.

Erhardt and Liesl had been married for many years and could exchange a great deal of information with a shared glance.

“I like her,” said one.

“I agree,” said the other.


***


The high point of Fräulein Diesel’s first meeting with Otho had been when the vixen had seized the tod by his throat with one paw and dragged him up to his feet. She then prized his jaws open with the other paw and rammed two fingers into his mouth. He choked, but only momentarily before lapping and sucking at the digits.

She gazed into his eyes for nearly a minute, gauging his reactions by the play of his throat muscles against her paw on his neck and the fingers in his mouth. She released him and as he returned to his kneeling position she turned to his waiting parents.

“I zhall take him,” she said simply, and Liesl and Erhardt smiled.

Fräulein Diesel had inherited a tidy amount of money and property from her parents, but that would be augmented by the dowry that came with Otho’s paw in marriage. She disdained this, but the Pferdebändigers insisted she take it, along with a half-claim in Otho’s inheritance. The vixen accepted grudgingly, and a date for the banns was set.

As a matter of historical record, the banns were somewhat modified to read
Fräulein Ilse Margarethe Diesel has deigned to wed
The disgusting creature Otho Pferdebändiger
followed by the place, date, and time of the joyous occasion.

The couple were registered at the famous Strappum and Beetum Chain and Whip Emporium, notable for the artistry and care they put into their ironmongery and leather work. The business was owned by the renowned dominatrix Countess Flagellia von Hymenbrecher, who demanded nothing but perfection in her wares and therefore commanded a high price. The formidable Percheron mare had been a mentor and instructor to Fräulein Diesel and was guaranteed an invitation to the ceremony.

On the blessed day of the wedding, the two families and assorted guests included the redoubtable Countess von Hymenbrecher and her harem of three surgically de-racked and meticulously feminized whitetail bucks. The bucks didn’t see much of the proceedings, as they were on their knees licking their mistress’ hooves.

Otho was led, crawling on his knees, up the aisle to the altar by his father, who handed his son’s leash to Ilse before taking his seat beside his wife. Diesel did all the talking, as the ball gag in the young tod’s mouth rendered him capable of only assorted grunts.

Even if he hadn’t worn the gag, he still wouldn’t have been permitted to say anything.

While the hired orchestra played a recessional, Otho Diesel was led out of the temple on all fours, his new wife occasionally striking him across his back or his buttocks with the riding crop that had been part of her wedding ensemble.

The minister was heard to opine, “For every masochist there is a sadist. Matches are made in Heaven.”



end