I know it's been a long while, but I assure you, rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.
He was nervous now. It had been about a week since they had first tried out the “She-Wolf” trigger. Since then, had talked, with her both in and out of trance, discussing what parts of it she liked, what parts of it she found unpleasant and why, and what parts she wanted to like more, but for some reason or another couldn’t bring herself to fully embrace. He made some notes, made little changes to the suggestions he had given her, added some new ones. Tonight, they had both agreed, they were ready to try it again. But this time it was going to be different. This time the scenario wasn’t supposed to be her letting loose her inner, violent, all-consuming sexual id, -atleast, not just that. The last time he had used this trigger, she had physically thrown him to the bed, pinned him, and taken him viciously and on her own terms. He had largely just lain there, as passively as he could manage, while she had her way atop him. What little effort he did put in served only to provoke her to further claw, bite, and wrestle him into submission. Which, of course, was fine. That had been the point of that particular facet of what they had jokingly taken to calling her “Wild Fantasies.” Tonight, though, was about another facet of those fantasies, another angle. Tonight, he was going to be doing more than just putting up a token fight against her. “Dear, are you ready?” she asked, breaking him out of his revery. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, Honey. Just running through my pre-flight,” he said. “You?” He could see that he needn’t have asked. It had taken her a little time, and some consoling reassurance under trance, to be assured that indulging in this particular fantasy didn’t violate her role as a Sub, that she could be the She-Wolf sometimes and still be a Good-Girl for him. After that though, she had been eager to taste that side of herself again. Now, with the promise of it so near at hand, he could see her fairly shivering with anticipation. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m ready for it.” “Good Girl,” he said, his voice deepening as he made the shift from Supportive Lover to Hypnotic Master. They were already standing in their usual places, facing each other by the foot of the bed, all a part of their familiar play-time ritual. He raised his right hand and her eyes locked onto his without her seeming to notice. “Sleepwalk,” he said firmly at the same instant he snapped his fingers. A flicker of confusion crossed her face at hearing a different phrase than the one she had expected. It lasted only an instant before the trigger took her. Her eyes glazed, she still stood, but loose, languid, swaying slightly side to side as her breaths came deep and slow. “Good girl,” he said, and watched her shiver slightly at the praise. “Very good girl. Come over to me.” She obeyed as immediately as she could in her hazy, trance-drunk state. He had her raise her arms as he removed her sleep-shirt, then pulled down and had her step out of her pajama-shorts. She stood there, naked, her head tilting, threatening to lol to one side as a little trickle of drool appeared at the corner of her mouth. He was half tempted to wipe it away with a finger, to begin caressing her and deepening her trance into a sea of gentle, submissive pleasure. She really was too cute like this. But no, tonight was for a different game. And so he took her hands, leading her away from the bed. “Follow me, sweet girl,” he said. Her lips moved, barely mouthing the words “Yes, Master” around a deep, sighing breath as he guided her out of the bedroom, through down the stairs, and into the basement, where he had, earlier that day, set up the temporary space they sometimes referred to as their “Dungeon.” They used it for times when the comfortable and softly decorated bedroom would clash with the scenario they were playing with. He walked her onto a large, square padded mat (liberated from, of all places, a martial arts studio that had gone out of business 2 years ago.) and had her kneel in the center. He took first one hand, then the other, binding them in padded leather manacles connected by long chains to anchor points high in the back wall. Kneeling in the center as she was, her arms were pulled back, slightly apart, and up, forcing her to bend forward slightly, though she would have more slack if she stood, and plenty of it if she moved toward the wall. “Very good,” he said. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” She shivered from the praise, her nipples hardening. He figured it would help the transition to the next phase of his plan if her body was already a little horny. “In a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers and say the name of one of your selves. And when I do, you will immediately awaken into that self with no memory of where you are or why. Do you understand?” She gave the best she could manage under the effects of the sleepwalk trigger, a slow little nod and a “Yes, Master” barely audible enough to count as a whisper. “Very good girl,” he said, stepping back into the shadows in at the edge of the room. He raised his hand, snapped his fingers and entoned “She-Wolf!” Of all of her trance states and trigger reactions, he thought this one was probably the most fascinating to watch take effect on her. It was a dozen tiny little things that shifted slightly in her demeanor. It was in the way her fingers curled, the way her shoulders angled, the way her mouth parted as her breath became somehow higher and deeper at the same time, the way she held her weight from her back to her hips all the way down to her feet, the way the muscles in her face held themselves. It was subtle and barely identifiable. Until her eyes snapped open, cold, feral, and searching. She tugged at her bonds, first testing, then jerking. The chains rattled violently as she threw her weight against them, tried to turn to see where they lead. It was when she turned that he chose to make his presence known. He stepped forward. He would have liked to have had boots on for the meaningful associations the sound of them rapping on the concrete floor would have had, even if only under the surface of her current state of mind. But they would have only gotten in the way later. “You’re caught now, little beast,” he said in his best harsh dom voice. Like with the sound of the boots, she wouldn’t consciously understand the words, but they would still have an effect in the part of her mind that was helping weave the scenario. Besides, it was fun. The moment he spoke, she whirled around. Seeing him, she snarled, baring her teeth and growling dropping into a low, threatening posture. “Like your new cage?” he said, putting as much belligerent arrogance into the words as he could. “I built it especially for you. Maybe if you’re a good bitch, I’ll take those chains off you and let you explore it a little” The abusive language wasn’t quite his bag, but she’d always liked it in their rougher games. This was definitely one of those. He took another few steps forward, hands clasped behind his back in a slightly martial “parade-rest” fashion. She lunged at him, letting the chains pull her arms all the way back as her feet pawed against the mat to try and force her closer. Her face stopped barely a handspan from his and he couldn’t quite stop the flinch. He took a moment to himself to admire the way her straining muscles highlighted her taut form. She was built more athletic than he was if shorter. Her just-over-a-handful breasts perfectly complimented her toned musculature nicely. Her hair fell in black tangles that he was sure it was just his imagination that made look wild and matted. The locks fell over just enough of her face to shade her bright, blazing blue eyes. Regaining himself, he brought a hand up and took hold of her by the throat, squeezing just enough for her to notice the pressure. He put his thumb under her jaw to force her face up so that her throat was bared entirely and she had to angle her eyes down to look at him. He felt the vibrations of her growl with his palm. God, that sound was so hot coming from her. “That wasn’t very nice, was it? No, I think those chains are staying right where they are. At least until I teach you some better manners.” Maintaining his hold, he ran his other hand over her shoulder, down the angle where it met her chest, and to the curve of one breast, cupping it, feeling the weight. He continued down tracing over her sternum, her tight belly, to the top of a thigh, then finally to between her legs, feeling at the edge of her moistening lips. The growl became tinged with a high, desperate sound, not quite a whine, but maybe a whine’s angry cousin. “Oh, I see what the problem is,” he said. “You’re horny aren’t you. Such a dirty little beast. I bet you’d like nothing more than to throw me to the ground, rip my clothes to shreds and have your vicious little way with me, wouldn’t you.” The not-quite-whine sharpened a little as he leaned closer, nose a few inches from hers. “Well, that’s not going to happen!” he hissed, pulling his hand away from her pussy. The growl turned into a hard, cracking snarl as she jerked against the chains, snapping viciously just out of reach of his nose. He raised the hand that had just left her lower regions and slapped her across the cheek as he released her throat. His blow was carefully measured (he made no jokes about safety when violence entered their play) barely enough to leave a light red mark. All the same, she reacted as if it were a hammer blow, reeling away as she tumbled to the padded floor. ‘Good,’ he thought to himself. ‘That part of the suggestion is working just fine.’ Part of the She-Wolf trigger was that she felt stronger, faster, more powerful than she normally did. Since the mind has incredible amounts of power over the body, this actually allowed her to perform physical feats that her body was in fact physically capable of, but that her mind didn’t usually expect or allow her to be able to do, such as literally tearing his favorite set of pajamas off of him with one hand last week (a loss for which he still mourned.) Conversely, the revisions they had made to the suggestion following that night added another dimension to that feeling of empowerment: That she would find him even more powerful physically than she was. In all actuality, there was no way he would be able to do what he was about to try to her if she wasn’t operating under the suggestion. She was just in better shape than his scrawny self. But since the mind made the rules for what the limits were, she would simply feel weaker, and thus be weaker than he was. Oh, she would still put up a hell of a fight, but she wouldn’t even know she was throwing the match. He would have been unreasonably proud of himself if it hadn’t actually been her idea. He walked over to where she lay, sprawled and dazed as she tried to climb up onto her hands and knees, still reeling from the psychosomatic force of the blow. “That was a very bad idea,” he said, bending down to fill his fingers with a broad fistful of her hair. He pulled down and back, making her crane her neck to look up at him. “We’re going to be at this a long time if you keep acting like that.” She gave a sound that was half groan, half growl and lashed out with a foot, catching in the ankle and knocking him off balance. In short order, they were tumbling together in a clambering wrestle made more complicated by her chains and the fact that she wasn’t just trying to pin him, but also to get his clothes off. The tussle ended with him pinning her face down on the mat, her chained arms stretched out behind her as he trapped her underneath him. She was panting, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the physical exertion of the struggle. “Bad girl. I’m going to have to punish you now,” he said, reaching down to undo the knot of his pajama pants, taking his cock in hand and rubbing it up and down her rear end. She responded with a low, rumbling moan that was equal parts growl and purr, and arched her back, pressing her ass up to grind against him. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it. Well, now you’re going to get it. But not on your terms.” He took a fistful of her hair, pulling her up so he could whisper in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you. Nice and slow. And you’re not going to move or try to speed up, because if you do, I’ll just stop, and we’ll wait until you are back under control and then start all over again.” She continued to press herself against him, grinding and writhing back into his crotch, making those needy little animal sounds. “Hold still, or I won’t fuck you at all and you can go hungry all night long,” he said, pulling back and getting to his feet, leaving his hand in her hair as the only point of contact. She tensed, frozen, and he watched her eyes, fixed at a point in the middle distance off to the side which was the closest they could come to him with her head pinned to the floor as it was. He saw the gears turning, weighing the dilemma of not being in control of the sex versus not getting the sex at all. With a final, exasperated little whine, she relaxed, letting her weight sag against her bonds, ass still in the air as she had managed to get her knees under it. “Good girl,” he said, and came back down to rub the tip of his hardness against her slit, coating the head with her wetness. She whined impatiently but made no attempt to force the issue physically. “Good girl,” he repeated, then pushed into her. He did it slowly. Agonizingly slowly, even for him. It was worth it just to see the way the muscles in her ass and back clenched with the effort of self-restraint, failing to completely prevent the involuntary arch of pleasure that curved her spine. Her face was a mask of frustration and needy impatience, but his threat to withhold altogether kept her from just pounding back into him. “Ah,” he sighed in only partly forced satisfaction as he bottomed out, feeling the vibrations of her quivering body transmitted through her core. When he went to pull out, she whined and tried to move back with him, to keep him in her, but he forestalled the attempt with a sharp “Stay!” For the next 10 minutes, he fucked her like that, deep and firm and slow. Whenever she tried to increase the pace, he simply stopped cold or even pulled out until she relented again. He could see the desperate agony of the teasing pace in her, she ground her teeth, screwed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, desperately holding back the instinct to simply let loose and rut until she had what she was so hungry for. Cruel master that he was, he couldn’t resist teasing her more. He leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her ear again. “You see now, don’t you, you little beast,” he whispered, getting a needy, pleading moan in response. “I control your pleasure. I control whether you get what you’re hungry for or not. I control whether you cum or not. I’m the Master now. Good wolves submit for their Masters. Good wolves get to sate their hunger on what their Masters give them. Bad wolves go hungry and needy. You were a very bad wolf when I came in here. Are you a good wolf now?” He bit lightly on her earlobe and she gave a gasping cry of tortured bliss, before slowly, hesitantly, lifting her chin, baring her throat in the universal animal signal of submission. “Goooooood girl,” he cooed in a warm, rewarding tone. She whimpered, her eyes still closed. They flew open when he sat up, pulled out of her and walked around to stand in front of her. “Sit,” he ordered. She sat up into a kneeling position, hands pawing at the mat in front of her knees, a confused and hopeful expression on her teasing-slack face. “Hold still, and I’ll give you your reward for being a good girl.” He moved forward, taking his cock and resting it on her upturned face, the tip dribbling pre-cum onto her forehead. She gasped, whined, and made half restrained motions to grab at his manhood that came out as her pawing at his knees and thighs. “Stay,” he said, and she stilled, but remained eagerly tensed “Stay, stay...good girl. Open your mouth.” She did, and he let her take him into her, petting her head as she bobbed back and forth in a frantic, hungry pace. When her teeth scraped him, he squeezed sharply, his fingers tugging her hair in rebuke. She was careful after that, more frightened, he thought, that he might pull her off him than from the pain. All the same, she devoured his cock, sucking desperately until she felt the shudder of him clenching up in climax. When she felt his seed make contact, splashing into her mouth and down her greedily swallowing throat, it set off the orgasm which was the start of the wake-condition for the trigger. Her eyes rolled back as she groaned in ecstasy around his length. Her muscles fluttered and she arched into the waves crashing through her body. He knelt down with her as she folded into it, still sucking every last drop of his cum out of him as if to prolong her own orgasm. They ended up laying in parallel, closer to the back wall so there was enough slack in the chains, her mouth still sucking drowsily at his deflating member until she seemed to relax too much to hold onto it and let it pop wetly out of her mouth, settling for simply nuzzling into his crotch. He could tell when she started waking up from the trigger because her nuzzling was punctuated by a little kiss in the place where his thigh met his hip, then another above the base of his cock, then another, trailing up his body as she crawled lazily up to nestle into him with her head on his shoulder. He stroked her arms and cheeks gently, not saying anything, just expressing the gentle, soft love and affection that was the staple of aftercare. “How was that for a ‘good wolf’?” she said, breaking the gentle music their slowing heartbeats. “God, that sounds so much cornier than it did in my head,” he chuckled bemusedly, grabbing at his discarded pajama pants to get at the little key he’d left in the pocket. “There wasn’t anything corny about it in the moment, believe me,” she said, quietly fascinated by his hands undoing the leather manacles and gently massaging her wrists. “You cheated,” she said in a playfully accusing tone. “And you liked it,” he said. “Uh-huh,” she said, closing her eyes and relaxing a little further into him. “It was weirder this time though. You talked more. I couldn’t understand the words, but somehow I knew exactly what you meant. Like I both knew and didn’t know the language at the same time.” “Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked, ready to make a mental note to improve the trigger’s programming. “Not really. When I wake up, I remember and I understand it all, and when I’m under I’m kind-of beyond caring,” she said. “Just a little funny is all.” “How does your cheek feel?” he asked, examining the light red mark he’d left her. “Fine now. Doesn’t even sting,” she said in a tone that told him she felt he was being silly for asking, but appreciate the thought behind his little show of worry. “It felt like I’d kissed a freight train in the moment though. I remember thinking ‘If he hits that hard, how hard does he fuck?’ something like that, anyway. I wasn’t really thinking in words. But then you didn’t show me. You did it so slow and controlled and it drove me crazy.” “Do you want me to try doing it hard next time?” he asked. “Maybe later,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, cuddling up into his lap. “Right now, I want you to be a good Master, and carry your pet upstairs to her nice soft bed, where, if you’re a really good Master, and pet her just right, she might just let you keep her warm.”
Writing from the dom's perspective delivers a bit of a different tone than the last story, but I enjoyed it and I hope y'all do to.
>> #249583
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I know it's been a long while, but I assure you, rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.
He was nervous now.
It had been about a week since they had first tried out the “She-Wolf” trigger. Since then, had talked, with her both in and out of trance, discussing what parts of it she liked, what parts of it she found unpleasant and why, and what parts she wanted to like more, but for some reason or another couldn’t bring herself to fully embrace. He made some notes, made little changes to the suggestions he had given her, added some new ones. Tonight, they had both agreed, they were ready to try it again.
But this time it was going to be different. This time the scenario wasn’t supposed to be her letting loose her inner, violent, all-consuming sexual id, -atleast, not just that. The last time he had used this trigger, she had physically thrown him to the bed, pinned him, and taken him viciously and on her own terms. He had largely just lain there, as passively as he could manage, while she had her way atop him. What little effort he did put in served only to provoke her to further claw, bite, and wrestle him into submission. Which, of course, was fine. That had been the point of that particular facet of what they had jokingly taken to calling her “Wild Fantasies.” Tonight, though, was about another facet of those fantasies, another angle. Tonight, he was going to be doing more than just putting up a token fight against her.
“Dear, are you ready?” she asked, breaking him out of his revery.
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, Honey. Just running through my pre-flight,” he said. “You?”
He could see that he needn’t have asked. It had taken her a little time, and some consoling reassurance under trance, to be assured that indulging in this particular fantasy didn’t violate her role as a Sub, that she could be the She-Wolf sometimes and still be a Good-Girl for him. After that though, she had been eager to taste that side of herself again. Now, with the promise of it so near at hand, he could see her fairly shivering with anticipation.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m ready for it.”
“Good Girl,” he said, his voice deepening as he made the shift from Supportive Lover to Hypnotic Master. They were already standing in their usual places, facing each other by the foot of the bed, all a part of their familiar play-time ritual. He raised his right hand and her eyes locked onto his without her seeming to notice.
“Sleepwalk,” he said firmly at the same instant he snapped his fingers.
A flicker of confusion crossed her face at hearing a different phrase than the one she had expected. It lasted only an instant before the trigger took her. Her eyes glazed, she still stood, but loose, languid, swaying slightly side to side as her breaths came deep and slow.
“Good girl,” he said, and watched her shiver slightly at the praise. “Very good girl. Come over to me.”
She obeyed as immediately as she could in her hazy, trance-drunk state. He had her raise her arms as he removed her sleep-shirt, then pulled down and had her step out of her pajama-shorts. She stood there, naked, her head tilting, threatening to lol to one side as a little trickle of drool appeared at the corner of her mouth. He was half tempted to wipe it away with a finger, to begin caressing her and deepening her trance into a sea of gentle, submissive pleasure. She really was too cute like this. But no, tonight was for a different game. And so he took her hands, leading her away from the bed.
“Follow me, sweet girl,” he said.
Her lips moved, barely mouthing the words “Yes, Master” around a deep, sighing breath as he guided her out of the bedroom, through down the stairs, and into the basement, where he had, earlier that day, set up the temporary space they sometimes referred to as their “Dungeon.” They used it for times when the comfortable and softly decorated bedroom would clash with the scenario they were playing with. He walked her onto a large, square padded mat (liberated from, of all places, a martial arts studio that had gone out of business 2 years ago.) and had her kneel in the center. He took first one hand, then the other, binding them in padded leather manacles connected by long chains to anchor points high in the back wall. Kneeling in the center as she was, her arms were pulled back, slightly apart, and up, forcing her to bend forward slightly, though she would have more slack if she stood, and plenty of it if she moved toward the wall.
“Very good,” he said. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.”
She shivered from the praise, her nipples hardening. He figured it would help the transition to the next phase of his plan if her body was already a little horny.
“In a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers and say the name of one of your selves. And when I do, you will immediately awaken into that self with no memory of where you are or why. Do you understand?”
She gave the best she could manage under the effects of the sleepwalk trigger, a slow little nod and a “Yes, Master” barely audible enough to count as a whisper.
“Very good girl,” he said, stepping back into the shadows in at the edge of the room. He raised his hand, snapped his fingers and entoned “She-Wolf!”
Of all of her trance states and trigger reactions, he thought this one was probably the most fascinating to watch take effect on her. It was a dozen tiny little things that shifted slightly in her demeanor. It was in the way her fingers curled, the way her shoulders angled, the way her mouth parted as her breath became somehow higher and deeper at the same time, the way she held her weight from her back to her hips all the way down to her feet, the way the muscles in her face held themselves. It was subtle and barely identifiable. Until her eyes snapped open, cold, feral, and searching.
She tugged at her bonds, first testing, then jerking. The chains rattled violently as she threw her weight against them, tried to turn to see where they lead. It was when she turned that he chose to make his presence known. He stepped forward. He would have liked to have had boots on for the meaningful associations the sound of them rapping on the concrete floor would have had, even if only under the surface of her current state of mind. But they would have only gotten in the way later.
“You’re caught now, little beast,” he said in his best harsh dom voice. Like with the sound of the boots, she wouldn’t consciously understand the words, but they would still have an effect in the part of her mind that was helping weave the scenario. Besides, it was fun.
The moment he spoke, she whirled around. Seeing him, she snarled, baring her teeth and growling dropping into a low, threatening posture.
“Like your new cage?” he said, putting as much belligerent arrogance into the words as he could. “I built it especially for you. Maybe if you’re a good bitch, I’ll take those chains off you and let you explore it a little”
The abusive language wasn’t quite his bag, but she’d always liked it in their rougher games. This was definitely one of those. He took another few steps forward, hands clasped behind his back in a slightly martial “parade-rest” fashion.
She lunged at him, letting the chains pull her arms all the way back as her feet pawed against the mat to try and force her closer. Her face stopped barely a handspan from his and he couldn’t quite stop the flinch. He took a moment to himself to admire the way her straining muscles highlighted her taut form. She was built more athletic than he was if shorter. Her just-over-a-handful breasts perfectly complimented her toned musculature nicely. Her hair fell in black tangles that he was sure it was just his imagination that made look wild and matted. The locks fell over just enough of her face to shade her bright, blazing blue eyes.
Regaining himself, he brought a hand up and took hold of her by the throat, squeezing just enough for her to notice the pressure. He put his thumb under her jaw to force her face up so that her throat was bared entirely and she had to angle her eyes down to look at him. He felt the vibrations of her growl with his palm. God, that sound was so hot coming from her.
“That wasn’t very nice, was it? No, I think those chains are staying right where they are. At least until I teach you some better manners.”
Maintaining his hold, he ran his other hand over her shoulder, down the angle where it met her chest, and to the curve of one breast, cupping it, feeling the weight. He continued down tracing over her sternum, her tight belly, to the top of a thigh, then finally to between her legs, feeling at the edge of her moistening lips. The growl became tinged with a high, desperate sound, not quite a whine, but maybe a whine’s angry cousin.
“Oh, I see what the problem is,” he said. “You’re horny aren’t you. Such a dirty little beast. I bet you’d like nothing more than to throw me to the ground, rip my clothes to shreds and have your vicious little way with me, wouldn’t you.”
The not-quite-whine sharpened a little as he leaned closer, nose a few inches from hers.
“Well, that’s not going to happen!” he hissed, pulling his hand away from her pussy.
The growl turned into a hard, cracking snarl as she jerked against the chains, snapping viciously just out of reach of his nose. He raised the hand that had just left her lower regions and slapped her across the cheek as he released her throat. His blow was carefully measured (he made no jokes about safety when violence entered their play) barely enough to leave a light red mark. All the same, she reacted as if it were a hammer blow, reeling away as she tumbled to the padded floor.
‘Good,’ he thought to himself. ‘That part of the suggestion is working just fine.’
Part of the She-Wolf trigger was that she felt stronger, faster, more powerful than she normally did. Since the mind has incredible amounts of power over the body, this actually allowed her to perform physical feats that her body was in fact physically capable of, but that her mind didn’t usually expect or allow her to be able to do, such as literally tearing his favorite set of pajamas off of him with one hand last week (a loss for which he still mourned.) Conversely, the revisions they had made to the suggestion following that night added another dimension to that feeling of empowerment: That she would find him even more powerful physically than she was. In all actuality, there was no way he would be able to do what he was about to try to her if she wasn’t operating under the suggestion. She was just in better shape than his scrawny self. But since the mind made the rules for what the limits were, she would simply feel weaker, and thus be weaker than he was. Oh, she would still put up a hell of a fight, but she wouldn’t even know she was throwing the match. He would have been unreasonably proud of himself if it hadn’t actually been her idea.
He walked over to where she lay, sprawled and dazed as she tried to climb up onto her hands and knees, still reeling from the psychosomatic force of the blow.
“That was a very bad idea,” he said, bending down to fill his fingers with a broad fistful of her hair. He pulled down and back, making her crane her neck to look up at him. “We’re going to be at this a long time if you keep acting like that.”
She gave a sound that was half groan, half growl and lashed out with a foot, catching in the ankle and knocking him off balance. In short order, they were tumbling together in a clambering wrestle made more complicated by her chains and the fact that she wasn’t just trying to pin him, but also to get his clothes off. The tussle ended with him pinning her face down on the mat, her chained arms stretched out behind her as he trapped her underneath him. She was panting, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the physical exertion of the struggle.
“Bad girl. I’m going to have to punish you now,” he said, reaching down to undo the knot of his pajama pants, taking his cock in hand and rubbing it up and down her rear end. She responded with a low, rumbling moan that was equal parts growl and purr, and arched her back, pressing her ass up to grind against him.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it. Well, now you’re going to get it. But not on your terms.”
He took a fistful of her hair, pulling her up so he could whisper in her ear.
“I’m going to fuck you. Nice and slow. And you’re not going to move or try to speed up, because if you do, I’ll just stop, and we’ll wait until you are back under control and then start all over again.”
She continued to press herself against him, grinding and writhing back into his crotch, making those needy little animal sounds.
“Hold still, or I won’t fuck you at all and you can go hungry all night long,” he said, pulling back and getting to his feet, leaving his hand in her hair as the only point of contact.
She tensed, frozen, and he watched her eyes, fixed at a point in the middle distance off to the side which was the closest they could come to him with her head pinned to the floor as it was. He saw the gears turning, weighing the dilemma of not being in control of the sex versus not getting the sex at all. With a final, exasperated little whine, she relaxed, letting her weight sag against her bonds, ass still in the air as she had managed to get her knees under it.
“Good girl,” he said, and came back down to rub the tip of his hardness against her slit, coating the head with her wetness. She whined impatiently but made no attempt to force the issue physically.
“Good girl,” he repeated, then pushed into her.
He did it slowly. Agonizingly slowly, even for him. It was worth it just to see the way the muscles in her ass and back clenched with the effort of self-restraint, failing to completely prevent the involuntary arch of pleasure that curved her spine. Her face was a mask of frustration and needy impatience, but his threat to withhold altogether kept her from just pounding back into him.
“Ah,” he sighed in only partly forced satisfaction as he bottomed out, feeling the vibrations of her quivering body transmitted through her core. When he went to pull out, she whined and tried to move back with him, to keep him in her, but he forestalled the attempt with a sharp “Stay!”
For the next 10 minutes, he fucked her like that, deep and firm and slow. Whenever she tried to increase the pace, he simply stopped cold or even pulled out until she relented again. He could see the desperate agony of the teasing pace in her, she ground her teeth, screwed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, desperately holding back the instinct to simply let loose and rut until she had what she was so hungry for. Cruel master that he was, he couldn’t resist teasing her more. He leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her ear again.
“You see now, don’t you, you little beast,” he whispered, getting a needy, pleading moan in response. “I control your pleasure. I control whether you get what you’re hungry for or not. I control whether you cum or not. I’m the Master now. Good wolves submit for their Masters. Good wolves get to sate their hunger on what their Masters give them. Bad wolves go hungry and needy. You were a very bad wolf when I came in here. Are you a good wolf now?”
He bit lightly on her earlobe and she gave a gasping cry of tortured bliss, before slowly, hesitantly, lifting her chin, baring her throat in the universal animal signal of submission.
“Goooooood girl,” he cooed in a warm, rewarding tone. She whimpered, her eyes still closed. They flew open when he sat up, pulled out of her and walked around to stand in front of her.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She sat up into a kneeling position, hands pawing at the mat in front of her knees, a confused and hopeful expression on her teasing-slack face.
“Hold still, and I’ll give you your reward for being a good girl.”
He moved forward, taking his cock and resting it on her upturned face, the tip dribbling pre-cum onto her forehead. She gasped, whined, and made half restrained motions to grab at his manhood that came out as her pawing at his knees and thighs.
“Stay,” he said, and she stilled, but remained eagerly tensed “Stay, stay...good girl. Open your mouth.”
She did, and he let her take him into her, petting her head as she bobbed back and forth in a frantic, hungry pace. When her teeth scraped him, he squeezed sharply, his fingers tugging her hair in rebuke. She was careful after that, more frightened, he thought, that he might pull her off him than from the pain. All the same, she devoured his cock, sucking desperately until she felt the shudder of him clenching up in climax.
When she felt his seed make contact, splashing into her mouth and down her greedily swallowing throat, it set off the orgasm which was the start of the wake-condition for the trigger. Her eyes rolled back as she groaned in ecstasy around his length. Her muscles fluttered and she arched into the waves crashing through her body. He knelt down with her as she folded into it, still sucking every last drop of his cum out of him as if to prolong her own orgasm. They ended up laying in parallel, closer to the back wall so there was enough slack in the chains, her mouth still sucking drowsily at his deflating member until she seemed to relax too much to hold onto it and let it pop wetly out of her mouth, settling for simply nuzzling into his crotch.
He could tell when she started waking up from the trigger because her nuzzling was punctuated by a little kiss in the place where his thigh met his hip, then another above the base of his cock, then another, trailing up his body as she crawled lazily up to nestle into him with her head on his shoulder. He stroked her arms and cheeks gently, not saying anything, just expressing the gentle, soft love and affection that was the staple of aftercare.
“How was that for a ‘good wolf’?” she said, breaking the gentle music their slowing heartbeats.
“God, that sounds so much cornier than it did in my head,” he chuckled bemusedly, grabbing at his discarded pajama pants to get at the little key he’d left in the pocket.
“There wasn’t anything corny about it in the moment, believe me,” she said, quietly fascinated by his hands undoing the leather manacles and gently massaging her wrists.
“You cheated,” she said in a playfully accusing tone.
“And you liked it,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” she said, closing her eyes and relaxing a little further into him. “It was weirder this time though. You talked more. I couldn’t understand the words, but somehow I knew exactly what you meant. Like I both knew and didn’t know the language at the same time.”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked, ready to make a mental note to improve the trigger’s programming.
“Not really. When I wake up, I remember and I understand it all, and when I’m under I’m kind-of beyond caring,” she said. “Just a little funny is all.”
“How does your cheek feel?” he asked, examining the light red mark he’d left her.
“Fine now. Doesn’t even sting,” she said in a tone that told him she felt he was being silly for asking, but appreciate the thought behind his little show of worry. “It felt like I’d kissed a freight train in the moment though. I remember thinking ‘If he hits that hard, how hard does he fuck?’ something like that, anyway. I wasn’t really thinking in words. But then you didn’t show me. You did it so slow and controlled and it drove me crazy.”
“Do you want me to try doing it hard next time?” he asked.
“Maybe later,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, cuddling up into his lap. “Right now, I want you to be a good Master, and carry your pet upstairs to her nice soft bed, where, if you’re a really good Master, and pet her just right, she might just let you keep her warm.”
Writing from the dom's perspective delivers a bit of a different tone than the last story, but I enjoyed it and I hope y'all do to.
>> #249591
Score: 1 (vote Up)
Didn't know you were a writer too!