Amber meets her maker and a decision!
A commission to end the Leashed series. This is too big for DeviantArt in one post so I had to make it two, I’m sorry!
You can find my page at: https://www.patreon.com/markgraham
Perched over the side of the bed while staring down at the collar, an absurd image suddenly takes root in my head. All I can picture is Gollum in Lord of the Rings, reaching out for the eponymous Ring itself.
Precioussss, the creature in my head croons and, suddenly, the mood shifts and I roll as a giggle fit overtakes me.
Despite being alone, I reach for my mouth to hide my smile and laughter but my hand bumps into the side of my muzzle. And it just makes me laugh louder because now I’m picturing my dainty little hand- paw- I don’t know. Hand, I guess? Anyway, my hand at the very tip of my long muzzle. Not covering my lips or anything. Just my nose and the front of my mouth and the corners of my lips curled up.
I squirm in bed as laughter turns to chortles. My tail rests awkwardly against my back but when I move, it feels good. Like someone scratching my scalp lightly.
Can I smile? Note to self – check later.
Fur drags against hair as my ears twist and part my hair like the fin of a shark terrorizing a dark sea. It makes me want to fix my hair since years of being human have taught me that that sensation means messy hair needing some attention and fixing.
Ah.
Oh. Okay.
Laying on my back traps my tail. It rests against the glossy tan fur on the inside of my thigh. My hips lift in a small motion, left to right and left to right again until I frown and gently gnaw on the inside of my lip. Once more they lift and I focus harder.
There.
I tense a new strange muscle in the middle of my back and my tail moves, pressing against my left thigh and then my right. A slow smile spreads over my furred face as my mouth opens and the corners of my lips draw upwards. It feels good to move it. Really-
Oh. That’s why. It was pressing against my pussy and now it’s flicking against it. Gently and slowly like a lover teasing you before foreplay. The hairs are nearly as soft as a feather until the tips needle into my sensitive flesh. And now that I’m conscious of it, I can feel the swollen lips against my thighs, warm and soft and covered in my drying cum. Dull and stiff compared to the sleek hairs further away. Trapping my scent.
I roll again and then shudder, bowing my head as my ears lance back. The sheets tug at the piercings covering my teats and nipples, twisting them until they beg for attention. Worse, the chain between my breasts catches and pulls, forcing me to moan. I’d dreamed of being treated roughly and now it’s like a lover’s pinching and pulling my nipples. My entire body grows tense and I grab at the bed.
Dull, dark claws threaten to cut the sheets as my ass slowly lifts and my tail curls up.
He’s there again as a low throbbing beats like distant taiko drums, steady and rhythmic. That presence. The phantom lover teasing me with long repressed fetishes. My breath out is long and ragged as I picture him drawing me up by the hips, strong hands holding me in place. Dominant. Fingers dug in. A hand going to the middle of my back to hold my chest down. Fingers clenching against the more dense black fur along the nape of my neck and between my shoulders.
I have to-
I have to move. I want it so bad that it scares me.
Instead of giving in and masturbating, I push forward, denying myself and the specter the pleasure. Of course, that’s a mistake as, once more, all eight of my nipples drag against the bed. I continue forward with a groan, placing a thickly padded paw on the floor next to the collar. My hips rotate right-left-right-left-right as my tail wags behind me. I try to steady it, focusing on that muscle I’d found earlier but it resists. Instead, I place my right hand down.
My short fur glides over the sheets on the bed as I pull myself forward, bending slightly shortened fingers to dig into the carpet for support. Out of curiosity, and 90% because I can, I use my claws alone to pull my body. I feel the bones within pull apart as the curved, dense obsidian nails dig in and I continue to move.
When my thigh slides free, I bend my leg and touch my foot to the ground, once more using my toe claws while balancing on the tips of my toes. Finally, my other foot comes down and I place my palms to the floor and lean forward in an exhilarating full body stretch. The chain connecting my piercings dangles beneath me, swaying gently while reminding me of its presence.
A new impulse makes me shake side-to-side after the stretch and it surprises me loud enough that I bark. Which forces my ears to angle backward. It was impulsive, loud and sudden but felt right in the moment. An involuntary response that worries me.
Finished stretching, I pull myself up to stand on the balls of my feet. My heel dips, touching the floor before raising once more. The padding makes walking flat-footed impossible now, despite the still-human shape of my feet.
I can hear the apartments around me now that I’m not so inwardly focused. Television shows filled with explosions and gunshots, clinking silverware on plates that carry tantalizing smells, faint music and loud, passing cars. The world is alive beyond my tiny bedroom. We grow up believing we’re the center of our own universe but as I stand naked in my bedroom, I feel connected to all of it, drowning in sounds and scents of everyone else living their lives.
I’m panting, tongue hanging free as anxiety grips my heart with a firm fist. I feel like I’m losing myself as the noises threaten to overwhelm me. A soft whimper escapes my lips and my tail curls down, pressing against the back of my thighs. I need to run. It’s my escape and always has been when the weight of the world presses against my shoulders.
And then my eyes open and I see myself in the mirror.
Taller now, on wide paws covered in tan fur that becomes glossy ink higher on my shins. The tip of my tail is between my calves, soft and firm as it trembles slightly between my legs, mirroring my anxiety. It feel it over the curve of my ass. It’s a strange warm and comforting presence that’ll take some getting used to.
The short fur covering my belly does nothing to hide the small teats lining my stomach, especially with the piercings capping them. I stare at them for longer than I should, licking my lips when I feel them stir at my inspection, threatening to harden despite the lack of touch. Higher still to my breasts, pert but visible through the fur. Now I can’t help myself. I gently cradle the bottom of one, rubbing my soft, leathery padding along the silky black fur. The larger nipple ring shifts at my touch, pulling and pushing the few strands of black fur that touch it. Hairs lift and flatten as the chain raises slightly.
My ears angle outward, twisting to focus downard and the metallic chiming of my earrings sounds louder than they should. I stare mischievously to the side, glancing away from my reflection as my paw squeezes and a happy growl vibrates low in my throat. The short, sharp fur digs into the sensitive skin surrounding them.
No, bad, I tell myself, dragging my hand away.
Dark amber eyes search my face but I have a moment of feeling disconnected from myself. It’s not me. It can’t be me. This long, black muzzle tipped with chocolate fur and thick black lips barely hiding sharp fangs can’t be my mouth.
Taking a few steps, I stare into my own eyes. Soft black eyebrows are mixed into the fur over my face yet, for whatever reason, there are two brown blobs of fur above them near the inside of my eyes. I swallow and then watch as my tongue unfurls, impossibly wide and long as it flops wetly against my nose and then down over my incisors.
Whiskers? I ask myself while touching a claw above my lips. They’re short and black and barely visible over the sandy colored fur but the holes surrounding them are obvious. I stroke one carefully and then step back while shaking my head. My short haircut bounces, tickling my ears and forcing them to twitch in annoyance.
Reaching up, I grab my ear before it twists away. It’s velvety soft and surprisingly thick in my fingers. And, oh gosh, yes, it feels good to just rub it. My padding scratches against the thin hairs lining the backs and the brown skin within. I groan, closing my eyes as I grab more of my ear to knead it between my fingers and palm.
My leg jumps, tapping at the floor when my claw randomly scratches at the base of my ear. I moan, free hand against the wall to hold myself up while scratching myself hard. And harder. Faster and faster as my leg tap-tap-tap-tap-taps against the floor until I sigh heavily and let my ear go.
God. I just want to slide my hands down my body and curl up in bed until-
My claws catch and tear at threads in the carpet when I turn sharply. I feel the cold of the toe rings through the tan fur covering my feet but what I don’t feel is itchy and that surprises me since I’m basically covered in dog fur.
The thought makes my lips curl up in a smile. Me, nude and human but coated in random dog hairs as if I’d rolled around in them.
Hackles rise whine whispers fill my ears. I growl, baring fangs with my ears back as I turn, crouched with claws out to the side. But, nothing. There’s nothing there.
“I need to get out of here,” I tell myself, scratching the unruly mane of fur covering the back of my neck
Now the question remains: how?
Even without putting on clothes, I can see and feel the difference in my muscles. And not just my coveted hardened abs. Worse-
I turn and bend forward slightly with my legs spread. My black-furred ass cheeks spread to show my swollen, bulging pussy lips. And because I’m a glutton for punishment and torturing myself, I lean forward more, muzzle turned to the side to stare as my folded lips part to show pink within. My tail begins to wag slowly back and forth as a warmth gathers in my neck to spread down my body.
The whisper returns. I reach back, padded paw against my ass cheek to pull it to the side. My claws dig in, pinching and pulling fur and skin. Watching my pussy open wider. Feeling myself grow wet. Smelling it. The sharp fragrance winding its way up to my sensitive nose and making me drool. Seeing it. Clenching the muscles within and watching them grow slick. Seeing a bead of cum form and flow outward, moving from glistening pink muscles within to black lips before dripping down to dangle between my legs. Snapping and dripping to the ground.
He’s there again in my mind. Against my back. Arms wrapped around my chest, right hand on my left breast. Easily cupping my small chest in his hand. Left hand low on my belly, between my bottom teats with fingers curved down to my pussy. Hot breath on my ears.
No. No, no, no.
I gasp and whine, ears down as I stand and press my thighs together. My heart races beneath my chest and I can’t stop licking my lips. Not “tongue around the lips in an overly exaggerated sexually suggestive way” but just licking the front of my muzzle and nose as I struggle to force the thought of masturbating out of my mind.
Clothes. I just need to put on clothes. My tail wags, reminding me how potentially screwed I am in this regard. A quick glimpse through my closed window shades tells me it’s surprisingly late in the evening so I start to put a plan together.
Crouching down beside my bed, my tail gently thumps the ground, distracting me by the way it pulls at my body as well as the alien sensation of a new appendage hitting something solid, like a reverse phantom limb. It feels like something’s touching my butt except far away from my body.
Ignoring my tail, I dig around and my claws latch onto a fabric handle for a large plastic bag. I grunt, expecting a struggle but my legs aren’t the only part of me stronger than I remember. The bag slides through the mess beneath my bed and I flip it over, tapping the vacuum sealed plastic until I spot my winter running clothes.
With a happy little yip, my tail thump-thump-thumps into the ground, forcing me to look over my shoulder until I realize that I’m making the sound.
One of my claws hooks into the little hole in the zipper and I pull it open, wrinkling my nose at the smell of old, stored clothes. There’s a not-quite-image-in-my-head that’s interesting. I get an urge to roll around on the bag and I even feel myself starting to do it but I hold myself back and grab my sweats and hoodie instead. That urge to mark my own clothing is such a weird sensation. A- a “pre thought” or something, I’m not sure what to call it. Something new that appeared before I even had time to think it through and it makes sense and feels like it’s always made sense.
A quick trip to my dresser has me pawing through haphazardly stored panties, skipping over plain briefs until I find a pair of high cut black briefs. I’ll need the space for my thicker legs. As careful as possible, I step into them and pull up, biting at the inside of my lips as it drags against my fur the entire way. Half-way up my thighs, I’m worried they won’t fit anymore. They’re tighter but I work my hips and pull and ignore the way they press against my pussy.
Woof.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, I pull the plain gray sweats on, rolling to my back with my legs up to slide them legs. As with my panties, the band drags at my fur as it moves counter to them and that pulls at the skin beneath them, making me shiver and writhe until they stop mid-thigh. My wider paws (feet!) and dull claws catch on the leg openings so I roll forward to pull them over my swollen toes and padding.
A new problem arises when I stand and tug them the rest of the way. I’m apparently taller than before. The waistband for the sweats ride low on my hips while the banded cuffs rest higher on my shins.
I can make it work, though. It’ll be-
My tail wags behind me, reminding me once more that it exists and I hang my head with a sigh. It’s almost taunting me. Look at me, haha! Everyone will see me, haha! I snap my teeth, try to grab it, miss when it whips back and then grab it and hold it tight while it tries to pull out of my hand. I pull the sweats out and shove the tail in, trapping it down one of the pant legs and then chuff, narrowing my eyes at the disobedient thing before reaching down for my hoodie.
I pause mid-grab and look through the window once more and then down my body.
“No, that’s foolish,” I say out loud but, still, I consider it.
If I wore just a sports bra, would anyone be able to see that I was covered in fur? Would anyone be able to see my little sexy teats?
The hint of a whisper again. Pure, faint emotion more than words. It feels like- like- what is that? A mixture of humor. Something almost like it’s egging me on. With fingers that tremble slightly, I unhook the chain between my nipples and lay it on top of my dresser.
The mirror in the corner of my room reflects the stranger once more. Pure honey eyes look back at me. Sleek and black but for tan markings along my forearms, feet and the tip of my muzzle. Ludicrously long ears standing tall through my short black hair, edged with rings and studs.
Six piercings shine brightly along my stomach beneath the two on my nipples and just the sight of them excites me. My teats peek out through the glossy fur. I can’t fool myself; they’re visible if you glance my way. But, worse, my ears are like radar dishes and there’s no way they’d pass even a casual look.
I grab the hoodie and pull it on, shaking my head to settle my hair and then reaching up to stroke my ears, squeezing them before pulling back on them. Finally, I flip up the hood. The little tan dots of fur over my eyebrows pull towards each other as I give an approximation of a frown. My muzzle is visible and my ears dent the fabric.
The sweats are uncomfortably hot. They’re an extra layer over my pelt and it traps my body heat. My breathing quickens, black nostrils opening and closing as my tongue lolls and I pant.
A whine passes my lips before lowering to a sigh. I shouldn’t go. I won’t be able to pass. My tail curls as I pace, frustrated and full of energy after my nap and being cooped up all day.
Oh god, how will I go to work? I think, freezing in place as my tail thrashes. How will I do anything that needs me to go out or deal with people?
Suddenly it all crashes down and my brain is buzzing, racing as it tries to comprehend every scenario I’ll have to deal with in this body. My eyes widen and my ears lay flat to my sides as I think of my parents and then work and then driving and then-
I shut my mind off like a robot, forcing myself to think of absolutely nothing at all. My claws tug at my sweats, forcing them down. The silky fur helps this time and I quickly step out of them and go to a different drawer in my dresser. A variety of jogging shorts lay in a jumble. I grab without thinking and bend over, slipping my wide paw into the shorts. The expandable fabric bulges around my feet and muscular legs as I work them up my body, stopping for a moment to lay my twitching tail against my thighs before continuing to pull up, trapping the tail inside the shorts.
Surrounded by the black fur on my waist, the sable shorts vanish. Less than half of my tail is visible and it taps my legs angrily. I watch it for a bit, feeling the muscle moving in my lower back but with the base held down, it seems like it can’t move much.
And it’s enough for me.
I walk to my door, grab my shoes and then huff when my feet don’t fit. I almost abandon them and run barefooted until I remember the shoes I bought over a year ago when I twisted my ankle during another night run. After a few growling curses, I find them in my hallway closet – a pair despite only needing one slightly larger shoe to handle the swelling. They’re still tight due to my padding and swollen toes needed to anchor my claws but at least they fit. I undo the laces to the bottom and then tie them loosely and nod.
Stretching before my front door shows yet another problem. Despite the fur, the hoodie rubs against my teats and nipples. Worse, the pierces twist the nipples when I move, edging the line between pain and pleasure. I sigh and my ears brush against the inside of my hoodie as they lower. Grabbing the bottom of the sweatshirt, I pull it up to my mouth and bite to hold it in place. The drawer in the small table by the front door holds a variety of crap and one of them is a roll of white tape. It’s normally reserved for long runs of runs in the heat but I’ll need some now to hold everything in place.
Eight small sticky pieces of tape, one after another. I part the hair around the black teats and carefully apply the tape to cover nipple and piercing until all are hidden and I drop my hoodie, licking my nose and lips in satisfaction.
Finally, I grab my keys and step into the hallway. Running has always been my escape from the world around me. Out in the world with my earbuds in, I can ignore everything and just let the sidewalk stretch out in front of me. I can’t and won’t lock myself away. I’ll miss my music but I’ll want to hear everything around me anyway.
I know nobody’s there because I can’t hear anyone outside. I can hear muffled voices of people inside their own apartments but not the echoing conversations of people outside.
Thoughts try to intrude but I ignore them, turning and locking the door and walking away. My ears are independently alert, twisting and turning. They pull at my scalp and push hair aside beneath the hood as they listen for everything around me.
An intoxicating rush of smells surrounds me. So much food, good and bad. Spicy scents that make my mouth water and the alluring aroma of cooked meat that makes me grind my teeth. Unfortunately, the giant trash bins outside interject and I gag, ears flat with a furred forearm against my nose. The cars and trucks passing in the darkness beyond the apartment complex are no better with the eye-watering chemical trails they leave in their passing.
Everything is just so much more and it sets my heart pounding. I want to see and hear and explore and run and chase and dig and-!
My tail slaps my leg as I race through the apartment complex and down to the street. The thick padding covering the balls of my feet grind against the inside of my shoes and my claws curl down to bite into the soles. My stronger coil-like calves absorb them impact before my thighs propel me forward. Despite the shoes, I still go to the balls of my feet and the pads soften my steps.
I can’t help it. I bark out a laugh as the world becomes a blur and my hoodie pulls back when it fills with the wind whistling around my racing body. I forget about it for a moment before reaching up to grab it and pull it forward.
And I run. And run. And run. Head ducked to keep my hood in place, I stare at the ground before me to ensure every step is safe. It’s a path I’ve taken many, many times and my body follows it automatically.
A sound makes my ears twitch and I look up to see another jogger in the distance. With a huff, I move off the sidewalk. The grass is wet from the sprinkler system installed beneath the turf and the drops of water sparkle in the sparse lights around the park. I move further away from the path, watching my step as I think to myself.
Why the hell didn’t I try to take the piercings off? I wonder. I remember thinking the same thing earlier before becoming distracted but I never once tried since then. Why? What if the piercings are what’s holding me in this form?
Ducks quack quietly from the approaching lake, ruffling their feathers as they swim with their family. I hear the faint conversation of a few groups of walkers on the other side of the lake but the area is otherwise empty
Is that all it takes? I ask myself again as I slowly pick up speed. The tip of my tail curls upward as I dodge between trees and hide myself from the old fashioned lamps set intermittently along the sidewalk.
I can see her in my mind, standing in the mirror before me. Nude and comfortable in her fur. So strong. Exotic with her ears and tail and the little hidden whiskers on her muzzle.
And I can remember how it all felt. How it still feels. The wind finds gaps in my clothes and courses down my furred body. The tips of my fur scratch against my skin and I almost miss a step because of it. Worse, now that I’m paying attention, I can feel my teats brushing against the soft lining of my hoodie despite the tape.
Why? I ask, focusing internally. Why does none of this bother me as much as it should? Or at all?
The million dollar question and I try to focus on it: why am I not freaking out about all of this?
Looking up, I see I’ve already circled the lake. Both my breathing and my heart are steady while my muscles barely feel warmed up. I raise my head further with my tongue free and my muzzle open to let the cool air over me, breathing deeply. Swallowing the scent of the lake, grass, trees and, urk- the trash. I shake my head and bow again. Tiny chunks of soft earth and grass kick up behind me with every long stride.
My forefoot padding strikes first, cushioning my step more than the shoes themselves. The blunt impact doesn’t register as strongly as if I were, well, human. The foot curls forward and my toes splay out. My shoe barely touches the grass before I’m kicking off, dense muscles propelling me forward like tiny nitro boosts.
It feels like I could run for days. Although, I am getting warm now. I can feel the sweat on my bare chest because the damn hoodie is cooking my body. It’s nowhere near cold enough for it and I’m covered in fur anyway.
My tongue flops from my mouth as I start panting with short, sharp breaths.
Would anyone see me if I took my hoodie off?
The idea is thrilling. And strangely arousing. I can picture myself, dipping between trees to hide from the few lights.
Fur is basically clothes. Right?
Why is the thought of running nude so damn appealing?
My hands grip the front of my hoodie, throwing off my stride temporarily. Righting myself, I realize my hood is down and probably has been for a bit. I’ve been running with my long, alert ears at the ready and my muzzle visible for all to see. And my drooling wide tongue out.
Hackles rise. The phantom is back. Whispering again. There’s something at my back between my shoulderblades. The hint of a touch. It’s calming and supportive with a whiff of- of- my furred brow presses together. Excitement, I think. It’s waiting for me.
I slow and walk to a tree, swallowing spit and licking my nose before leaning down with my paws against my knees.
Voices, old voices from old memories. Incredulous looks mixed with disgust. I shake my head and growl at them. I’d opened up to the men behind those voices at one point in my life, idly talking in bed about secret fetishes I’d wanted to explore.
I can remember lying on my back with my legs up, gasping and moaning and guiding my boyfriend’s hand up to my neck and the look of confusion on his face before he simply caressed me rather than closing a fist around my throat. I told him afterwards, shyly, that I thought maybe we could try bondage sometime. When he didn’t say anything, I’d felt emboldened and told him we could maybe start by being rougher in bed. With him being more dominant. Yanking my hair or slapping my ass hard enough to-
‘Amber!’ he’d said, loudly, rolling and looking at me with something close to revulsion. ‘I could never do that to you! That’s just wrong.’
I’d laughed awkwardly and said it was only a thought and that I probably wouldn’t even like it, either. I’d just ‘accidentally’ seen it on a video my ‘girl friend’ had shown me and was curious.
But the damage was already done on both sides and we broke up not long after that. I couldn’t not see that distasteful look whenever I saw him and he simply pulled away.
With my next boyfriend, I tried a little more cautiously, prodding him to find out what he liked to do. I’d gotten excited when he’d said he liked to be in control and be rough but it turns out he meant he just liked to pound me like a jackhammer and call me dirty names. That was it. He didn’t quite understand oral or foreplay. He went from kissing to jack hammer. He spanked me one time, barely and I moaned to encourage him but that only made him pound harder. My fucking crotch hurt for days afterwards.
So I gave up and kept all of my fantasies to myself, saving videos or just closing my eyes and imagining little scenarios when I masturbated. It was better than nothing and I didn’t have to feel subhuman when I did it.
The new voice surges and the ghostly touch spreads, prickling my back. My fur rises in fits as goosebumps form to push them out.
Fuck it.
Glancing around, I grab my hoodie to pull it off, fold it and lay it carefully on a clear spot on the ground while making note of where it is. There are two logs nearby, close to the lake. One is hollow so that’s easy to remember.
And then I crouch. Half-way because my tail bends painfully and I yelp because of it. Instead, I go to my knees. And wait. My tail wags, pulling at my shorts as I listen to the park. That other jogger is still there, slowly making a circuit on the sidewalk but nobody else is around.
I can do this.
I want to do this. I shiver and bite my lip. Exhibitionism isn’t one of my big fetishes but I have quite a few and nearly all are untapped. And it still is a sexy fucking idea. To be topless, racing through the park for anyone to see if they look closely. I’m panting again and this time it’s not from exertion. My hand slides through my fur to cup my breast and I squeeze my nipple, careful of the tape. Claws scratch against the skin beneath the black hairs and I lick my lips.
And then I’m up and off. My ears twist to catch the pained gasping of the other person and I swivel to spot them in the distance. I leap over an exposed root and land lightly in soft mud.
My laugh is sudden and sharp. A bark, really. Again. I’m imagining myself running completely nude and barefooted. What would they make of the paw print I’d leave behind? A giant, human-sized paw print in the dried mud the morning after.
I’m already catching up to the wheezing jogger, dodging behind trees and lowering myself as the urge to go to all fours arises. Instead, I stand tall and race, passing them at a distance like a sexy tan and black blur in the night.
I run as fast as I can because I know I’m almost done for the night. I’m far, far faster than before. My tongue lolls out but I lick my nose again and pull it back into my mouth. Nostrils flare and I breathe in.
Out. In, in. Out. In.
Wind ruffles my fur which scratches my body. And my nipples. I growl quietly but focus forward. Racing and running, long powerful strides. My shorts pull upward, pushed by my bulging thigh muscles and my tail takes advantage, bowing upward and pushing the shorts higher until they give me a wedgie. My tail wags fiercely, sleek and black and almost as thick as my wrist. It makes me stumble and I slow to a walk, tugging the shorts down and over my ass to once more entrap my tail.
Oh. That’s. That’s, uhhh. That’s. Something.
My tail swish-swish-swishes against the shorts and that goddamn voice is back. Louder again. I can almost, almost make out words. I whine when I somehow interpret the tight shorts as a hand against my tail. Restraint. My old fantasies surge in my head suddenly. Fist in my hair, ropes around my wrist. Held down and struggling despite wanting it. Fighting against it so I’m treated even more roughly and I can’t escape.
Woof. Dang. Damn.
I’m almost back to my hoodie but I sink back down to my knees and then lean forward, bowing my head. With my hood down once more, my ears lay flat to the side, something I’m coming to realize they do when I’m embarrassed. Or when I’m turned on by dirty, dirty thoughts.
On my hands and knees like a bitch in heat, tail tugging at my spine while the voice commands me. Hooking my claws into my shorts and panties, I sit back and pull them off. Only when I feel the wetness against skin and fur do I realize I’ve soaked through both of them.
I crawl on hands and knees, hips rocking with my strange folded lips rubbing against the fur on the inside of my legs. A growl escapes my muzzle when I feel slick muscles rubbing together deep within my pussy. Wet. On all fours.
The log next to where I stashed my hoodie is right in front of me. I collapse against it, dropping my shorts and lean back, spreading my legs. Whining quietly, ears flat as I rub myself and grab my tit.
Masturbating in public. That jogger is still there and I can hear methodical footsteps nearby. I’m hidden but the idea of people close to me while I’m finger fucking myself is so fucking arousing. My tail thumps the ground and my hips lift, raising up uncontrollably to meet my fingers. I squeeze the thick, distended lips while pressing my padding against them and shoving my finger down as far as I can inside me to keep the blunt tip of my claw away from anything.
Panting and moaning and whimpering as that strange voice within grows louder and louder, driving me wild until-
“I knew you’d be here,” a man says behind me.
“Fuck!” I cry out, pressing my finger deep into my pussy in shock. I cum and squeeze my thighs together while shoving myself back against the fallen log.
Fuck fuck fuck, wait, I think. My ears raise slowly and I twist to look behind me.
“You!” I say, and it’s suddenly, shockingly, completely clear.
It’s the man I met in the park. With the fucking doberman which, I’m pretty sure, is what kind of dog I am.
Oh, Christ. And he had a little fancy bag sitting next to him. Probably with a box full of piercings.
“Did you turn me into your goddamn dog?!” I yell and then lower myself, ears down when I see the jogger on the far shore turn around as if trying to find who was speaking. “Am I- Am I Chief?!”
I remember the dog’s name because of course I do. I just don’t remember his name.
“Don’t be absurd,” the man laughs. He has such an easy going, cultured voice. “Chief is a male and he’s currently relaxing on his bed at home. You’re clearly female.”
“Clearly!” I growl. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the log. The log where I’m currently trying to meld into to hide my awkwardness.
“No you may fucking not,” I yelp. “I’m naked!”
“I’m very aware,” he says with a smile and an obvious glance at my chest.
He bends and I show my teeth by reflex with my ears back but he simply grabs the shorts I’d dropped and tosses them to me.
“If it would make you feel better,” he tells me, cool as a cucumber. “I can also turn around.”
I hate cucumbers. Pickles are fine but cucumbers are tasteless watery- Goddammit!
I grab my shorts and tug them on over my shoes, tearing long holes with my claws in my haste. I have to leave my tail free but I pull my knees up and lean forward with my arms blocking my tits.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I tell him, grinding my teeth. I feel like biting him. I see a mental image of lunging and latching onto his leg or throat or arm and shaking until I’ve broken something.
“Yes, and no,” he says.
He’s wearing brown leather shoes, khaki slacks and a long sleeved white Polo shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show hairy, muscular forearms. His brown hair is still shaggy but in a “I spent an hour making it look this disheveled” kind of way.
“What the hell,” I growl in return. Why is his voice so soothing and why am I having a hard time looking away from his eyes? “What the hell kind of answer is that?”
Rather than answer, he places his hands together. Light shines from the gaps and then blooms when he pulls his hands apart.
A tiny flame dances a half inch above the lines in his hands. It flickers without the touch of a breeze and shadows bow and stretch before it. I lean forward without realizing what I’m doing. My ears are straight and almost vibrating as my mouth opens in awe.
“How are you doing that?” I ask reverently. I can feel the heat it casts but it doesn’t seem to burn his hand.
He makes a fist and the flame vanishes. I have to blink away the afterimages of the little fat flame and I sit back.
“Some people are born with a gift,” he tells me with a shrug. “We don’t realize it at first. Odd things happen around us. Incidents. Unexplained phenomena. Eventually we figure out what’s happening. Or someone finds us and takes us on to teach a few things. Never for long because there’s just not enough time for our own pursuits.”
“You’re a magician?” I ask. My brain feels like it’s hit a rock. This does not compute. “A real life pointy hat Gandalf? Like, real life?”
He laughs and it’s far too disarming for his own good. And it makes me feel a bit, um, things. Makes me feel a bit of things. My tail thumps and then brushes against the ground.
“No way,” he says. “Not anything near that powerful. Not even close. I’ve only been learning for five years, three of those on my own.”
“But what’s this have to do with me?” I ask as my brain tries to restart. So many questions but where would I even begin? I reach around and grab my knees, claws against my shin to hold them in place.
“Ah, well,” he says, thumbing his nose. He scratches it, clearly buying time. “You know the old stories of witches with black cats?”
“I’ve seen Kiki’s Delivery Service, yes,” I tell him. I narrow my eyes.
“They’re familiars,” he says. “But not exactly like that. More like-“
“Like me?” I ask.
“Like you,” he nods. “Nearly all magic is bound to our plane of existence and specifically Earth itself. Nature. At least for me and most that I know. It’s levels, layers like an onion. A small grove may grant you power while a forest allows you to draw more. If you’re skilled enough and old enough, the Earth itself can be drawn upon. Like the difference between a cellphone, laptop or a supercomputer. Different levels, different skills.”
He’s not really waiting for me to prod him on so I just watch him talk. It’s him. It’s been him. The voice whispering in my mind since I handled those nipple piercings. Now that I’m this close to him, I feel a connection and a sort of humming. Or thrumming. Throughout my entire body. It’s nice. I file away the thought to ask later. When I’m not so distracted by his- his- everything.
“Familiars used to be feral creatures,” he continues. “Cats, wolves, stags, does, whatever called to your soul. They were a link to the natural world around us. An interface. Ehhh, I’m bad at explaining it but more or less an interface.”
He stops and I can see his mouth working as if he’s chewing on something.
“You know,” he says. “This would be a lot easier if we were at my place rather than in the park in the middle of the night.”
“Hah!” I laugh, pulling my knees tighter against my chest. My piercings drag against my legs and my tail wags behind me. I shift my hips forward more because my lady- um, dog bits are feeling things. “I bet that’d be easier for you. Do you tell that to all the women you’ve turned into dogs? Is that like, your kink?”
“Ugh, no,” he groans, pressing his hand to his face. “No. Fine. As time has progressed, as we’ve progressed, we’ve moved further away from nature. A simple black cat doesn’t work anymore. We need a bridge between humanity and nature.”
“Like me,” I sigh, repeating myself. Why does my pussy have to stick out that fucking much? I can feel it throbbing against my thighs and it’s hard to get comfortable because he’s got this broad chest and a deep but somehow soft voice and this short beard that I want to lick and, aaagh!
“Like you,” he says again. “A hybrid, stuck between feral and human to give that link that’s needed for more than parlor tricks.”
“Why me?” I ask him.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “None of us do. I felt you a year ago. I was in Magdeberg, breaking away from my tour group at the Kloster Unser Lieben Frauen while they were distracted by the art gallery. Suddenly there was something soft pressing on the back of my brain. I just left and followed it. Although, that’s a really damn hard thing to do when flying.”
“You can fly?!” I ask, shooting forward. I bare my breasts and teats in my excitement and the moon shines off the piercings as the chains attached to the studs in my ears jingle.
“Uh, airplanes,” he says, scratching his nose again.
“Oh, so you can’t,” I sigh again, disappointed.
“It’s not impossible,” he tells me. “Especially if you-“
“If I?” I prompt when he doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Bond with me,” he finishes. “If you bond with me.”
“Listen, you haven’t even bought me a drink,” I tell him as my ass grinds slowly on the ground, unnoticed by me except for the slow pleasure radiating from between my thighs.
“It’s not-” he hangs his head, mentally changing gears before continuing. “I flew to London first, then Galway and you were closer but not close enough. So, I came to the US. I was interrupted a few times but you were always there.”
“So then you turned me into a dog,” I growl.
“No,” he says quickly.
“Oh no?” I laugh, showing my teeth. I spread my arms and my tail raises. And then I tap my muzzle with my claws and show him my paws. “So, I’m just a half naked woman sitting in a park having a delusional mental break?”
He stares at me solemnly and I shiver and press my lips together. God dammit.
“You wouldn’t have changed if you hadn’t wanted it,” he says flatly.
“Excuse me?” I gasp, arousal flashing to sudden anger. My hackles stand up and my lips vibrate when I slam the ground and growl. Like a dog. “The fuck you mean if I wanted it? You think I want to turn into some freak like this and live the rest of my life hiding from everyone?”
Seeing how upset I am, he raises his hands, palms outward.
“Familiars can be forced,” he says, his voice even slower than before. “It makes them more feral. Their base needs are amplified even more than- than- well. And their humanity is lessened. It’s rough but I’ve seen it done. I divined a few things about you, how you like piercings-“
“Did you- did you use your magic seeing water to stare at my titties?!” I yell. It’s so fucking absurd that I almost lose it but I hold it together because, seriously, what the fuck.
“No!” he groans. “I couldn’t see- it was just rough images-“
“Of my titties?” I demand.
“I’m trying to talk!” he finally yells, eyes flashing and his jaw flaring.
It hits me like a train. The dominance. It’s something to do with the link we have but also just the way he speaks and holds himself. I claw at the earth and do my best not to moan as my tail curls down to press against my shorts. My ears angle backward and I stare at the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just trying to explain myself here and it’s difficult for me. I’ve looked for you for a long time and I don’t want you thinking I’m debasing you into some sexual object.”
I’m sorry, too, I really want to say but, fuuuuck that, I refuse, despite my lowered posture.
“The magic wouldn’t work if you weren’t receptive to it,” he says, slowly again. “We share a bond but that’s just one part of it. In the simplest terms, the fetishes were an offer and your soul agreed. A pact was made and here you are.”
“Here I am,” I say quietly, staring down my body.
I want to believe him. He sounds sincere as hell. But me wanting this? Magic and sexy wizards and familiars and a whole other world out there that I didn’t know about.
The link I felt at the back of my mind vibrated.
“It can be undone,” he says. There’s real pain in his eyes. “Before the bonding.”
Huh. Seeing him vulnerable makes me want to comfort him. My chest hurts. No. My heart. It physically hurts. I don’t even know him and somehow I want to go to him and wrap my arms around him.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, staring at the ground once more while trying to calm myself. “Is your place close? Maybe you’re right; maybe this isn’t the best place to have this conversation.”
“Yeah,” he answers carefully. “Pretty close. If you grab your sweatshirt, I can walk you there.”
“No,” I reply. “Give me the address and I’ll come over. I have to stop at my place for a second.”
He stares at me for a moment and my ears flick. My heart’s not aching so much as racing now.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he takes a step towards me.
“Just watch,” he says. “I haven’t had a chance to show you much.”
I shrink back a little with my arms over my chest but he kneels and reaches out slowly. His hand brushes my muzzle and I can’t stop pressing into it with my eyes closed. His fingers are wide and rough and he gives me a little scratch on the jaw. And then higher on the ears and I huff. The man, who shall remain nameless to me until I can trick him into saying his name once more, runs his fingers through my short black hair.
And then I smell him. Drool fills my mouth and I growl and then sigh. He scratches the top of my head and gives me a quick pat before withdrawing. I can almost see him despite my closed eyes. He’s an actual physical presence in my brain, no longer a phantom.
“There,” he says softly. “Now it’ll be a little easier for us to find each other.”
I don’t trust myself to speak so I just nod and press my paws hard against my thighs. My fingers tremble and I bite the inside of my mouth as my ears lay flat.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says.
I nod wordlessly again and he turns and leaves before I collapse against the log with a quiet moan.
Jesus.
When he’s out of sight, I grab my hoodie and pull it on. My tail struggles in my grasp but I shove it back down into my shorts where it slams against my legs in a tantrum.
I know exactly where he is and roughly how far away he is. He’s sad. I feel that, too. Worried. It’s a complicated weird mix of emotions. Extra noise in my brain that I didn’t really need. And yet, I seek it out and hold it close.
I treasure it.
We walk away from each other as I make my way back to my apartment.
—
A little over two hours later, in the dead of night, I find his house. It’s huge. He had to have magicked up money because house prices are ridiculous even for a two bedroom shack squeezed between other shacks.
I’ve stood on the steps for a few minutes and that’s stupid because he has to know I’m here. But he hasn’t moved since I entered the neighborhood. He’s playing it cool while I stand out here like some chump.
What am I doing here?
I have the same hoodie on but with a t-shirt beneath it and the sweats I’d worn earlier but with new, non-soaked running shorts beneath. My purse is over my shoulder and it feels like it weighs a million tons. Still barefoot. But not pregnant, thank-
Oh god. Can I still get pregnant? Would it be little puppy humans? Or a litter of tiny babies?
Delay, delay, delay.
Step up, step up, step up, knock knock.
Ahh, he’s moving. Up and walking. Anxious, curious- excited?
A car passes behind me so I bow my head beneath my hoodie. The headlights shine off of the studs high on my ears. I can’t quite keep them entirely under the hood so they peek out like curious little things.
But then the door opens and he’s there.
“I forgot your name the minute you told me,” I blurt out. Real smooth. Real smooth. “Right at the park when we first met. I have no idea what your name is.”
“Noah,” he says, with an easy smile. “Come in. Please.”
He steps back, sweeping his hand while I walk inside. I pull my hood back to rest against my shoulders. My ears flatten during the motion and then pop up again.
Honestly, it’s a little disappointing. It’s spartan furnishing and a very male place. Everything is new and nice quality – leather couches and wing back chairs but there’s not much of it and it leaves the huge house feeling empty. I guess I expected fine art or magical doo-dads or golden statues of some strange god. But there’s none of that.
“Do you want a tour?” he asks, walking around me.
“No,” I tell him. “Can I put my purse by the door?”
“Of course,” he says.
He’s studying me. This close, the connection feels a little fuzzy and it’s somehow harder to read the emotions I felt earlier.
“Do you have somewhere we can sit?” I ask him. I feel the muscles tweak in my ears and they brush through my hair as they angle back. I’m still getting used to what that means. “I’m not used to shoes on- my- my feet and the run was maybe overboard. I think I overdid it.”
“Oh, sorry, yeah,” he says, scratching his nose for a moment. “I’ll show you to my study.”
“A study?” I purr. “How fancy.”
“It’s not really,” he says with a little shrug as he walks in front of me.
“I have a living room that barely fits a couch and a television,” I tell him. “A bedroom, a bathroom and a little kitchen. ‘Study’ isn’t in my housing vocabulary.”
“It’s just a room with-” he starts to say.
“Bookshelves and chairs and couches,” I sniff. It comes out as a weird little chuff with the hint of a growl. “I watch Downton Abbey.”
The study is more of what I was expecting. Bookshelves line the walls around me, glowing with their highly polished wood. They aren’t completely filled but there’s more books than I’ve seen outside of a library. Chief lays on a thick dog bed beside an empty fireplace. He has his paws crossed and he’s studying me intently as I enter.
That’s me.
The doberman look. He’s pure animal but I share his characteristics. The sleeky, glossy tan and black fur, long ears and graceful, lean lines. Now that I see him, I can smell him and he’s cleaner than I expected. His nostrils open and close as he takes my scent in and then he lays his head down on his paws.
Two large chairs, both worn from years or decades of use, are arranged before a low, round table. Noah gestures at one and he sits on the edge, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. Ignoring him for the moment, I take my time to look around. Making him wait because, contrary to what he’s done, I’m not his toy.
The chandelier is lovely. It dominates the ceiling with crystal teardrops in three layers over the center of the room. They’re motionless as they hang there, frozen with fragmented reflections of us and the study in their smooth curves. It’s warm, overly so despite the fireplace being empty. Too warm and I’m tired of wearing baggy clothes. I’m finding more and more that I’m not a fan of too many clothes. They feel wrong with my fur.
Without asking permission, I pull my hoodie off. My shirt lifts with it, exposing my teats and their piercings. I feel it dragging against them, tugging the ends of the and twisting the little nipples and I definitely didn’t need those little pleasurable reminders right this minute.
Tugging my shirt back down after tossing the hoodie aside, I hook claws into my sweats and step out of them, pushing both against the empty chair. My tail curls immediately as if it’s stretching, excited at being freed.
Now I sit.
And sigh, sliding my shoes a little on the floor. He’s barefoot and in loose, light sweats and another one of his long sleeved shirts.
Hah. He showered before I came over.
Oh. How do showers work with fur? Do I stink? I can’t smell anything stinky on myself but I only now realize I haven’t showered since I changed and I went for a run and- and- and I’m stalling.
There’s just so much and I’m sitting here face-to-face with him in his house. And it’s not even our third date. My mother would think I was a slut, going to some stranger’s gigantic mansion on the first date. Well, first interrogation. Still stalling.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.
“About what?” I ask, confused.
He looks down at my feet and I pull them back. I open my mouth to tell him it’s not his fault but, really, it is. What do I even say about that? I bend my toes but they’re not quite as responsive as they used to be.
“Is it bad?” he asks when I don’t say anything else.
“They’re stiff,” I admit. “And my calf muscles aren’t used to how I stand yet. They’re just sore is all. I just can’t tell if that’s because of my run or because of how they are now.”
“May I?”
I bark out a laugh and he looks both confused and affronted with his hands out.
A massage. This isn’t my first rodeo. ‘Oh gosh, I’m so good at massages, why I don’t give you one. With my dick.’ Uh-huh.
Still. They do hurt and maybe giving his hands something to do will help him relax and make this whole thing less awkward. For him.
I pull my chair a little closer and lift my foot, which he grabs immediately. His deft fingers undo the laces of my shoe and he pulls it off. The relief is immediate and immense. My tan-furred paws are wider than his hand. The claws tipping my bulging knuckles rest against his fingers while my broad forefoot padding lays against his palm.
Noah reaches with his other hand to hold the sole of my foot in place before resting it high on his thigh. His hands are warm against me, even through the fur. His right thumb presses into the arch, carefully digging into the skin. He works his thumb in a slow circle, kneading the sore muscles. His fingers rub against the sharp hairs covering the top my foot which tickle my sensitive skin and-
Ah. A memory of right after the change. Watching my feet turn into paws. Bending and tasting and feeling the heat rise while my cheeks burn. I should stop him. I should.
He lowers his first hand to dig both thumbs in and I lean back to enjoy it. My shirt pulls up just a tiny bit but my lower teats lay exposed.
And I know they are.
And he knows they are.
His thumbs pull back, grinding against my paw as he works up to where my heel is.
Oh. Oh gosh.
The more his fingers work, the stronger the memory is of when I cleaned my feet. My breath catches as the sensations return and his simple touch builds pleasure. My heart beats faster and my ears begin to lower. I look up to see him focused on his work, dark gray eyes carefully noting how my paw works and where he should touch to make it better.
I grew wet in response to the soft touch of his rough hands and his intensity. Mixed with the memory of my own self-discovery, blood rushes down to my pussy and my labia throbs with my heartbeat. My tongue laps out to my nose and my hand toys with the bottom of my short. Dull claws idly scratching my side and pulling the shirt higher.
He presses the tips of his other four fingers against the tops of my foot, scratching me while working his thumbs back to my arch. My tongue lays against the bottom of my mouth as my lips part. The edges of my broad tongue rest against the outside of my muzzle.
At the corner of my eyes, I see my pussy. I glance down and realize my tight running shorts have vacuumed sealed themselves to me. In my arousal, my folded lips have become swollen and their outline are clearly visible. Thick lips that brush my thighs even with my legs spread.
A tiny wet spot lays at the center of the lips.
I should probably stop him. I should.
His thumbs press into the leathery padding while his fingers pull against my toes. They flatten and spread out to show wild tan fur between them and the bulbous black padding beneath every toe. It’s hard to tell but I think my toes have shortened slightly while expanding to handle claws and padding.
With every motion, my claws arch forward, tapping his hand while he works his metaphorical magic.
He pulls himself closer to me, sliding his chair until my ankle rests high on his thigh. Noah hunches over to see more clearly as he caresses my furred toes.
I can feel his breath on my foot, warm and soft. His mouth is so close and I can’t help the memory surging forward once more.
“Hmm,” I say, pulling my tongue back in and breathing through my nose to hide the moan that so desperately wants out.
“Is it alright?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say quickly. And then I close my mouth. My claws dig into my thighs as he continues.
The padding over my forefoot is nearly two inches thick and pure black with gray speckles. He digs at it, pushing and tugging and pressing and my toes bulge outward, knuckles curling as he works from one side to the next.
The wet spot has widened slightly. My mouth opens once more and I began panting as my ears twitch and my face burns. My ears slice through my hair to lower as the heat builds within me. His fingers slip over the padding and I turn my head with an awkward coughing growl because it’s stupidly sensitive and I want to whine like a dog. My ears are flat and I’m leaning back more with another row of teats showing.
And then he trades feet and begins the pleasurable torture once more. Fingers to the sole, digging and clawing as he slides up to my heel.
The memory returns again but it’s him now rather than me in my daydream.
In my mind’s eye, I watch him lift my foot to kiss the padding. He breathes out slowly, purposefully and his breath flows around the leathery skin, surrounding it before sliding beneath my fur to the bare skin below.
While he methodically massages my foot, I see the other him bend and lift my foot. He rubs his cheek against the soft fur on the curve of my arch and then his eyes open and he stares up at me as he kisses the soft skin. I can almost feel the stubble on Erotic Daydream Noah’s face. He ends at the padding and then smiles and kisses along the length of my foot.
In the real world, my claws dig painfully into my thighs and a I grind my teeth while wrinkling the skin on the bridge of my muzzle. I lick my lips and stare at him as he rubs the heel of my real foot.
I growl and my chest shoves forward but I try to hide the motion by bringing a paw up to my face to scratch the black whiskers.
“Is that okay?” he asks, concern plain on his face.
“Yes,” I tell him, gasping it out before clamping my jaw shut. How can he not feel the raw arousal through the link we’re sharing?
As he had with the first time, he starts to work towards my forefoot.
I can’t stop imagining the evil version of him kissing my sole once more until he reaches the dense padding. That version looks up at me again, ensuring I see him before opening his mouth to drag his tongue over the swollen skin. I can almost feel it, wet and warm as it flattens against me. In the real world, he holds my toes, digging fingers in between the aching joints. His free hand holds my foot steady.
Other Noah growls in my daydream. I know that isn’t right but I don’t care. He finishes cleaning my padding and then smiles at me. More teeth than he should have. But then he’s human again with his scraggly, short beard and soft eyes and warm smile.
In my daydream, he pulls my foot up and nibbles on the bulging black skin beneath my first toe. He kisses the fur on the side and then spreads the toe to lick between then, dragging his tongue against the tan fur. His lips close on the longer fur and he makes a little tugging motion with his head and then laughs.
I’ve completely lost what the real Noah is doing at this point. The heat has overtaken me and I’m sweating a little bit with my ears down, tongue nearly touching my chin and my hand clawing at my chest.
The other, deviant Noah groans, opens his mouth and my toe’s claw taps his teeth before he opens wider, taking my toe entirely in his mouth. He suckles at it, holding my foot in place as the tip of his tongue curls down and over the bulbous padding to the exposed skin at the bottom knuckle. His tongue rocks back and forth, slipping and sliding over the soft, leathery skin until the fur on the top of the toe is completely soaked. He pulls the toe free and it drags at his bottom lip.
In the real world once more, I slide my foot up his thigh until it touches his cock. The wet spot between my thighs has spread to cover my swollen, aching pussy lips completely. He glances up at me sharply when I start to rub his limp cock back and forth, dragging my claws against it until it wakens.
Noah’s dick twists and turns and I guide it, pushing at it with my padding and spreading my toes to encircle it. My toe rings catch the light as I stroke him carefully, masturbating him with my foot. I press and it lays against his belly as it grows completely erect.
I can almost imagine a sheath holding it in place. My big toe rubs the side of his cock and I squeeze my toes as my hips writhe, imagining him inside of me. My claws drag against his clothing as I press and slide my foot, stroking him carefully down to the base of his cock and then up, holding the arm of my chair to anchor myself.
He opens his mouth to say something but I shake my head and my earrings jingle. I pull my foot back and stand, twisting my hips as I take my shirt off and drop it beside me. He looks up at me and I catch his eyes as I claw down my side and then up to my teats, dragging my fingers against the piercings. To show him. To show him what I am.
My shorts are difficult to pull off, as tight as they are on my new body but I turn, tail raised to give him a show as I take them off. Down over the curve of my furred ass and strands of my cum attach to them, snapping and clinging to my fur as I slide them over my thighs and calves, stepping lightly out of them and turning to face him.
He reaches up for me but I shake my head and grab his hands, holding them as I walk towards him, placing them to his side as I straddle his lap, leaning forward to brush my nipple against his lips.
I growl when he licks me and my nipple stirs as his hot breath surrounds the dark, sensitive skin. His hands raise but I growl again and hold him down as I grind against his pants. My paws rest on the edge of the seat and I raise my muzzle in a quiet sighing moan while rocking my hips back and forth.
The motion presses his pajamas down to expose his cock and I whine, leaning my
head forward to press my cheek against his when the tip slides against my
soaking wet pussy. But I push past,
grinding against his girth while he struggles.
He moves. I push but he’s stronger and he grabs my ass with one hand and the back of my hair with the other, pulling down hard while leaning forward to suck a nipple in his mouth. He forces my ass down against his cock while pushing up and with his hips. Trying to enter me.
“You- ahhh-” I moan, grabbing the back of his neck when he bites my nipple. He’s getting rougher and it’s turning me on so goddamn much. Shoving harder while guiding me with his hand on my ass. It’s sliding up, squeezing and scratching until I feel it circle the base of my tail.
I push back and stare at him with my ears down. I lick my lips and work my hips once before licking his forehead and staring at him again.
“So,” I say with a smile. My ears vibrate and twist before laying flat again. My ass grinds against him and he grips my tail hard, forcing me to moan. “Do you want to fuck my pussy now that it looks like this?”
Sliding my ass back, I hold his shoulder and lean back. He stares into my eyes, his expression serious but I can feel the hunger pulsing through our connection. I moan and reach down with my other hand, spreading my fingers over my pussy. The jet black lips are distended and bulging in the shape of a spade. My clit lies hidden beneath thick skin that meets in the center of my folded, swollen labia.
The hand holding his shoulder reaches up to grab the back of his hair. I force his head down as I slip a middle finger between my tight pussy lips.
“Does the shape excite you?” I whisper hoarsely as I spread my fingers and open the lips to show the glistening pink inside. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not slip the finger inside to pleasure myself. “Is this what-“
Without a word, he stands while holding me and then kneels, setting me on the floor. My legs clamp to his waist with my paws hooked around the ankles as I stare up at him, watching his eyes. Watching the hunger in them. The pure raw need. He shoves his pajamas down to his knees and goes to one hand to lean over me. I lick his cheek as he guides himself into me.
The head of his cock opens my pussy and I buck, raising my ass with a high pitched whine. He kisses the side of my muzzle and then pushes forward with a hissing groan as I clamp down against him. My tail thumps the floor beneath me and I cross my arms over the back of his neck to pull him down.
He enters me painfully slow, deeper and deeper until I feel his balls against my pussy. His teeth are in the fur of my neck as he pulls out. He bites and I moan, shivering when he kisses my shoulder.
And in again, faster this time. My claws dig into his back and I whine, twisting my body to try to go to my stomach. But, he holds me in place and slams back in. When I try to pull him, he leans back, still in me and grabs my hands. With one hand around both wrists, he pins them above my hand and slams into me hard enough that my soaked pussy splatters against both of us.
I arch my back as he starts to work faster. The emotions coming through the link are a jumble. Need. Desire. But at also concern. A hint of worry for some reason but it’s blasted away by the raw lust that makes him pound into me.
We slide on the hardwood because of my slick fur but I barely notice because I can feel it coming. He moves up, pulling my legs and suddenly the head of his cock is pressing against the front of my pussy before sliding down, rubbing an insanely sensitive spot over and over. I’m growling and whining and whimpering and clawing, scrambling at his back and the floor as I raise my hips to guide him just a bit higher and-
My fists slam against the ground and my hips shudder as I cum. I pull him tight and bite his shoulder, my tongue writing against the patch of bare skin beside his neck while breathing through my nose until-
He comes and another orgasm slams into me as he pulses within. I feel his cock swell every time he comes and it makes me grind my teeth while my tongue writhes in my mouth.
Noah collapses against me, spent and panting. His sweat mixes with my fur but we just lay together in silence.
Slowly, he rolls, pulling me against his side as he goes to his back. I whine when his cock pulls free and a load of his cum surges out of my pussy. My thighs automatically rub together, marking myself in his scent before I raise a leg to rest it on him.
We lay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort for each other.
“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely. I swallow and lick my lips.
He tilts his head to try to look down at me and his beard tickles my ear.
“Yes?” he asks.
“The bond thing,” I say. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
“You have time,” he tells me gently. “There’s-“
“No,” I say, gently scratching against his shirt. “I’ve made up my mind. I want to know more. I- I like you and I want to see this other world.”
“You’re certain?” he asks. I can feel the blur of emotions. Excitement again but concerned still. Anxious. Relief. So many more.
“Yes,” I say, reaching down to toy with his pubic hair. He’s still half-hard.
“You’d need the collar,” he tells me.
“Would I really?” I tease. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To see your faithful dog girl curled up on a bed on the floor with her collar, at your beck and call whenever you want.”
“That’s not-“
I laugh quietly and he growls. It’s a bit arousing. My tail swishes back and forth slowly.
“It’s in my purse,” I say, smiling and licking his neck. “But not yet. Lay with me a while. Tell me about the world you live in.”
I’m yours even without the collar, I don’t tell him. I knew it once I realized he was the voice I was hearing.
He starts to talk, slowly at first as he tries to find the right place to begin. I lay quietly, attentively. Interested.
And yet a part of my mind wanders and I wondered whether there would be a leash to go with the collar. I miss a bit of what he’s saying when I imagine that little fantasy and my claws go lower, squeezing him as I roll and kneel over him. His voice slowly fades and I push back with a long, low growl.
“I thought you wanted to hear stories?” he asks, a little amused and a little frustrated. But I can feel him growing hard once more.
“There’s time,” I groan.
I reach over to grab my shirt and hand it to him, leaning in to his ear as I slide back, shoving the head of his cock against my pussy.
“If you can tie my hands behind my back,” I whisper to him. “I’ll let you fuck me.”
He stares into my eyes for a moment and I lick my lips, hungry for him. Hungry for his command. And a little scared. That he’d find me abhorrent. That he’d find my fantasies disturbing.
Noah’s hand reaches up to caress my muzzle softly and then down, down to my throat. He grips me tight and I hiss through my teeth as he sits up and pulls me down, grabbing my hip. The hand around my neck releases me but then slips into my short hair before becoming a fist.
He turns me and pushes me to all fours, going above me to whisper in my ear with a lowered voice.
“No,” he says. “You’re my bitch now. You’ll go and get your collar and bring it to me. Now.”
I shudder, pressing up and into him, positively drooling at the command in his voice. At the insinuation. I wait for him to release me and then stand, walking quickly to the back to find my purse. My hands shake as I unzip it and I squeeze my thighs together as more cum leaks free, mixing with the fur on my legs. I grab the studded collar and then rush back, eyes down while licking my lips.
“Kneel,” he says.
I do. Head bowed with the collar in my heads, holding it up for him. He takes it and gently wraps it around my neck. I can feel the soft leather backing as it lays against my neck. And then tightens.
My eyes flutter and I moan when my legs go weak. He tightens the collar and then kisses my ear which flicks at his breath.
“Bitches should be on all fours,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I gasp, dropping to my hands and knees, trembling. Waiting for his touch.
He stands instead and I whine. My tail dips and I watch as he goes to the fireplace.
Chief’s leash hangs from a golden hook on the wall and he takes it down, folding it in half as he comes to me. I’m panting and occasionally shaking, barely able to hold a coherent thought in my head as he withholds his touch.
The folded leash strikes my ass and I howl. It isn’t hard but it’s unexpected as fuck. And incredibly hot. My ass shakes and I spread my knees, biting at my lips and then barking when the rough leash strikes against my other ass cheek.
“I’ll have to teach you discipline,” he says.
I want to laugh at him and rebel but I can’t. I can’t. I can barely think and the part of me that’s still there wants to do whatever he wants. God. God, I’ve waited for this forever and it’s more than I thought it’d be. The dominance is intoxicating. I feel his body heat as he kneels next to me.
The leash clicks in place on my collar and he pulls, forcing my head up while grabbing my hip at the same time.
“Yes, fuck, yes, please, please,” I whine, shoving back, rocking my sore ass against his cock.
“And,” he gasps, angling his body until the head of his cock presses against my pussy. I’m dripping wet and so incredibly hot. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll get your own leash.”
“Anything!” I scream, trying to shove back but he grips the leash to hold me tight. “I’ll do anything, please! Oh god, please yes, slap my ass and push me down and fuck me until I’m begging and whining and treat me like your bitch and-“
The collar tightens, cutting off my incoherent babbling. He makes a fist with the leash and presses it down in the mane on the back of my neck.
“Mount. Me,” I gasp. And he does. His cock is harder than before and it opens me, the head bumping against every ridge and whorl inside my greedy pussy. I squeeze him tightly and whine as my tail lay against his body. My claws dig into the ground beneath me while I raise my ass.
Still holding my leash, he goes to his hands and feet and fucks me. The position drives me wild, both the implication of it as well as the way his cock presses down before sliding deep inside. I’m whimpering with each thrust as his ballsack slaps against my engorged, folded pussy lips. He grunts, words lost to him as he focuses on what he’s doing.
“Ah- ah- ah- Mmm-” I groan, trying to speak as the orgasm builds within me.
It’s sudden and sharp and my eyes widen. My muzzle thrusts back, furred cheek rubbing against his stubble as I howl, loud and long as my pulsing, aching pussy squeezes Noah’s cock over and over.
“Fuck, I’m- I’m gonna,” he gasps.
“Do it, please do it, please. Fill me,” I moan, shoving back and then rocking my hips as I build up the rhythm once more. “Fill me, oh god yes fill me with your cum. Breed me like your-“
He comes with a harsh grunt. His teeth find my neck and he bites hard which pushes me over the edge again and I collapse beneath him, teeth chattering as I jerk and twist with the little aftershocks. I’m lost in it. Drifting in the warm glow of my orgasm. My brain hums loudly and I spasm but the weight of him on top of me keeps me in place. The collar and leash hold me in place and I’m reminded of them. And it’s so fucking hot. I grip his cock tight, trembling at the thought of it. At being his.
I turn and lick his face tiredly, my eyelids heavy from exhaustion.
“And maybe a dog bed, too,” Noah says quietly, a million miles away.
“Ain’t sleeping. At the. The foot of your bed,” I say weakly, drifting closer to sleep. “Not. Not. Not…”
But I would. I know I would. As I drift off to sleep, exhausted from the events of the day with my muscles relaxed, I groan at the thought of being forced to sleep on a dog bed after being a brat. Begging to be let back into bed. My own leash tugging me up and holding me in place while I suck his cock for the privilege of sleeping with him.
Whatever he wanted. But he’ll have to make me. And I’ll enjoy every moment of it.