Don't Ju-Lie To Me Part 1/4 - Paw & Order (Patreon)

"Nyehe, look'at what we've got, Scruffs!"

The larger blue cat cranes her neck around the corner, scratching at fleabites as her eyes suddenly widen.

"Gawrsh, lookit what the cat dragged in! A real bona-fide dogtective, a-hyuk!"

The two cackled inanely as Deputy Moyne wriggled, grunting as she tried to heave herself through the hole in the fence. Damn cats. Fuck! And to be caught by two of the underlings - not even a high-ranking guard or a right-paw-man!

"Where'd'ya find this one, Arlie?"

Her ginger counterpart sneered. "Clumsy pup's got three left feet, I tell ya. Clattered louder'n Miss Veronica high on catnip tryin' to scavenge some fishbones!"

They both snorted with laughter as Moyne felt... ugh... 'Scruffs'... pull her loose from the fence-hole. She was strong - stronger than Moyne had expected for a cat, especially a low-level grunt. Lady Veronica ran the city's biggest scam bracket, setting up fraudulent insurance cases, staged breakins, offering sketchy 'protection' fees, everything from bad loans to forged paintings, but she had taste. Or, she seemed to; these grunts weren't exactly dressed sharply. Mesh shirts that you could see everything through; tiny skirts; ragged ripped sleeves.

There was a tearing noise.

"Dangit, Scruffs, what'd ya do this time?"

"Nothin', I jus' pulled her off the fence!"

"Jes' set her down inside, will ya? Miss Veronica's gonna wanna long talk with why this gumshoe's been sniffin' around our li'l base."

Moyne grunted as her world spun, the larger cat turning her over to set her down inside a dark room, only a little larger than a storage closet. These punks' break room, she figured. Where two stray fleabags can hide out and play cards between shifts.

"Get th'belt."

She bristled. "Don't you hairballs fucking dare."

"Dare what?" In the dim light, Scruffs' eyes lit up like halos. "We're not gonna hurtcha."

The dog snarled wordlessly. Scruffs passed a long studded belt to Arlie and began manhandling the detective, humming pleasantly to drown out her grunts and growls. When Arlie was done, Moyne's wrists were pinned above her head, fastened by the belt and attached to a small hanging loop chained to the ceiling.

"Y'comfy?"

"Screw off." She spat on the ground. "You mongrels can beat me like a cur but I won't say anything."

"Aw, gee," Scruffs mumbled, "We're not usually allowed t'interrogate pris'ners."

"Shit, Scruffs, y'think Veronica'd like it if we got some answers outta this pup?" Arlie's eyes were already alight with excitement. "The lady wouldn't even have to strain her wrists at all, we'd do all the hard work for her!"

The two were laughing; Moyne continued to growl. Any amount of pain. Any amount. She could take it.

"Oh, Arlie, I see what that rippin' noise was."

"Huh?"

She indicated with a claw and Moyne's face immediately went scarlet. How- how dare she-!

"You clumsy cat, y'ripped a hole in her nice expensive pantyhose. Now we can both see how nice 'n' pretty her kitty is!"

"Is she...?"

"Aw, Scruffs, I think she is!"

Moyne turned her face away as she felt Arlie's hot breath on her cheek.

"The big proud detective is turned on by gettin' manhandled. She's wetter than a queen in a milk bath down there, huhuhu. Who'd think that a prissy poodle would enjoy bein' tossed about by a pair of stinky alley cats?"

"Shut up..."

"Aw, whatcha gonna do?" Arlie took a claw and ripped another hole in the sheer fabric, no bigger than a coin. "Call yer buddies so they can see your soaking wet li'l hole? I don't mind spendin' a night in the big house if it means every copper in the precinct knows you've got a wet spot for bein' treated rough."

That shut her up quick.

"I don't wanna hurt her, Arlie."

"We don't gotta, ya shmuck. Didn't I tell you there's other ways of makin' a dog bark? What'd we use this room for, use yer brain!"

Scruffs giggled. "We kiss 'n' lick each others feet~"

Moyne bristled all over. What-?!

"That's right. When we ain't workin', we sneak off here, 'n' go tongue-to-toes."

"Y- you two are disgusting!"

"Don't knock it till ya try it, toots." Arlie leant down and, to Moyne's horror, picked up one of her feet, hoisting it aloft with both hands. "Us tough alley-cats make up a resistance, so it just feels like a nice li'l massage after a long day of takin' out the trash. But I'm sure these lovely stockin's don't do much to toughen up yer toesies, huh, copper?"

"Bet they're softer than a fresh pink peach!" Ignoring the detective's fierce blushing, Scruffs lifted her other foot. "Ooh, they smell good too. She must use that nice body butter like what Miss Veronica does."

"Yup, an' Miss Veronica has some lovely soft soles. But yer only allowed to sniff 'em, not kiss or slurp or touch 'em. Y'know why?"

Moyne didn't bless her with an answer, only a glare that did little to hide her mounting anticipation. Arlie and Scruffs nodded to each other and flicked out their claws-

Ripping nylon and strangled squeals filled the tiny room, soon followed by catlike snickering. Moyne's toes curled helplessly, trying not to reveal her desperation OR her excitement. Part of her hoped that her feet would distract them from the sudden gush downstairs, but part of her knew how doomed she would be if her feet enraptured them that much.

"Y'ready, copper? If at anytime y'want us to stop, just tell us why you're here 'n' what you've seen."

Nearly frothing at the jaws, Moyne snarled "Screw you!", hoping to sound braver than she felt.

It didn't seem to work.

The cats immediately set about with their barbed tongues, like tiny precise brushes scrubbing long strokes along her feet. Moyne felt a screaming laugh erupt from her lungs but gritted her teeth to hold it in.

Nonono you're not ticklish you're not ticklish

Just focus ok just focus

Big tough detectives can't be ticklish even if their feet are super sensitive

Stupid cats will never get anything from me

I'm not ticklish I'm not ticklish I'm not tiHIHIHI-!

She screwed her eyes shut. It was too much - the tongues worshipped each crease in her soles, each spot, the delicate skin between her toes, the ball of her foot where her weight rested; they polished her heels as if they were pearls and moaned as they cleaned her arches thoroughly. Their noises of bliss didn't help. Deputy Moyne was being well and truly humiliated by two feline footsluts.

The laughter nearly escaped in a bark as she felt Scruffs' mouth close around her big toe, sucking on it as fervently and as lovingly as she would suck on a swollen, needy clit-

No don't think that you'll only get needier can't let them know you love it-

- And used her long, pointed claws to rake along her helpless sole. If one thing was well-kept about her captors, it wasn't their messy hair or brush-tails or ratty clothes, it was their nails. Perfectly manicured, filed to a vicious point, perfect for scribbling and scraping at all the finest nooks and creases along a pair of captive feet. Defenseless, sensitive, and deliciously ticklish.

"She's lovin' this way too much. I can smell her kitty from here, Arlie." Her voice was muffled; Scruffs seemed reluctant to let go of the soft, tasty toes in her mouth.

"That's jus 'cause your sense of smell is way too keen. I swear, that week I didn't wash my paws, I nearly knocked you out with a single sniff! And don't talk with yer mouth full, ya cretin."

Scruffs reached out. "No, Arles, look-"

"Scruffs, keep yer hands off the merchandise!" Arlie reached out and slapped Scruffs' hand away from Moyne's exposed folds. Moyne had to restrain a whine. "Be a lady. Y'can't just go touchin' her like that, show a little respect. She's our guest 'n' we need to treat her as such. A little foot service, a little more foot service, a few hours more of foot service-"

Scruffs gave her sole a long lick. "We can't."

"Why not? I swear, ya big lug, yer not goin' soft on us now, are ya?"

"We've licked off all the salt, Arles."

Arlie paused, gave Moyne's left sole a long, contemplative lick, then paused, as if trying to identify the palate of a fine fine. "Blow me down, Scruffs, yer right. We can't be licking a bland sole."

Moyne grinned. She'd made it.

"You keep'er here. I'll be right back."

Scruffs scrambled out of the room and Moyne gawked, before side-eyeing Arlie with a sneer.

"I'm never going to talk, brat cat."

"I know." Arlie set the dog's foot down and began filing her nails. "But yer gonna wish you did. Miss Veronica should be back around dawn; she's been collectin' payment around the city. Once she's back, we'll hand you over to her 'n' ohh, boy. We're gonna look like saints, Scruffs 'n' me."

Her shit-eating grin sent shudders through Moyne's whole body. She didn't answer. She couldn't. Arlie inspected her through her claws.

"Gal's a real sadist. Y'really learn how she's the head of this company; nobody pisses her off if they know what's good for them. I remember once I had'ta sniff her feet as thanks for a bonus in my pay, and I got a li'l too close, heh. The squeal she made when my nose touched her sole was almost worth spendin' six hours in The Humiliator gettin' every inch of my body tickled silly. And I mean every inch, pup."

Moyne watched her, enraptured. The nail file was discarded and Arlie leaned in, eyes hooded, half taunting and half warning.

"Think of how many times ye can come in a single session. Triple it. That's what Vera'll give you for an appetiser, and that's just the start. If ya think we've been cruel little pervs, then you'd be right, but like I said - compared to our boss, your long-searched-for lady-of-interest, we're a pair of guardian angels."

"I'm back!"

Moyne jumped in her seat as Scruffs re-entered, shutting the door with her hips.

"What's yer favourite?"

Arlie picked Moyne's foot again, frowning. "My favourite what, dumbass?"

"Oh." Scruffs turned and dropped her armful onto the table. "Spread. I thought that if her feet lost their nice salty flavour, we could give 'em some new tastes."

Arlie studied the table. Strawberry, chocolate and caramel sauces. Marshmallow fluff. Peanut butter. Buttercream. Sweet chilli sauce. Every kind of fruit jam.

"Jeez, where'd ya find these?"

Scruffs looked up from her pile of butterknives and basting brushes. "The fridge. Uh- don't use the same knife on different spreads, it's not nice. But these'll give those pawsies a little kick, a-hyuk."

"You're fuckin' tellin' me." She picked up a jar of marshmallow fluff and watched Scruffs grab the caramel sauce. "Let's start with these. 'N'maybe if she's good, we'll give her some, too."

She raised her foot and wiggled it under Moyne's nose, cackling.

"Lucky dog."

"Whaddyou mean, Arles?"

Arlie grinned broadly, showing all her teeth.

"She's gettin' to eat dessert before she's even had her appetiser."