Work Text:
”Just a quick one before I have to work,” Asato whispers into my hair. I’m sitting on the couch with my nose in a book, and I jerk in surprise when I hear his voice.
“A quick one, what?”
“I think you know,” he murmurs, pushing his nose against my ear and making my fur bristle. When he touches me like this, it sends tingles down my spine. The fur on my tail fluffs up—which he expects, and runs his claws through it. “Gods, I can’t believe how gorgeous you are.”
Now I understand what he is asking. It isn’t that I dislike sex. Or that I’m uncomfortable with sex with my boyfriend. I just... I haven’t been able to figure out when he wants it or why the hell he wants it so often. I would appreciate having a little more time to warm up. Also, I feel like something is missing that I can’t put my finger on. But now, I don’t feel like I can refuse. I want him to have a good day at work. Wouldn’t it be cruel to leave him aroused for the entire overnight shift? Actually, it might be mean, but I secretly love the idea, imagining Asato standing behind the counter at the convenience store and stuck there, hiding his unwanted erection. A slow smile crosses my lips, but I don’t say anything.
I do, however, look at the clock.
“Wait,” I interrupt, grabbing both his hands and pulling away. “Don’t you have to leave in like, twenty minutes?”
“And?” He asks, his deep blue eyes pleading for touch.
“That’s, um, that’s not enough time,” I insist. But I can’t say no. It’s why we ended up together. He’s adorable—and my heart lurches in my chest, almost as bad as it did when we first got together six months ago. I cannot say no to someone who desires me this much.
“It’s plenty of time,” he replies, pulling me toward him, planting his soft lips against my face, letting his hands wander down my chest and underneath my shirt.
It isn’t enough time. If I’d had some warning, maybe. But I had none. So what are my options?
“Hang on,” I say, pushing him away, but he takes off my shirt overhead as he pulls away. A little shiver goes through my body. I don’t want him to be late to work, but neither do I want him to fuck me without being better prepared.
When we first got together, I learned to prepare myself—stretching myself in the showers in the morning when I knew he’d be coming home from a twelve-hour nightshift at the convenience store. I knew to expect him horny before he’d crash and burn for the next eight to ten hours. I hate the nightshift. I really hate it. Our schedules never match up. School takes me away from him during the day, and we only have an hour or two together before he has to leave for work.
I had been planning to do the same—getting showered and taking time with myself—early tomorrow morning. I even set my alarm for 6 AM, giving me a good half an hour to warm up. But I hadn’t realized he might like something before he leaves. It’s a little intimidating, I guess, that I can’t properly predict what he will want. I could ask him—request that he give me a little notice. But I haven’t told him that it hurts me when I’m not prepared enough—and it’s been five months since we started sleeping together. It’s just... too embarrassing at this point. Plus, a quiet part of me doesn’t mind the pain so much.
“Hey,” I whisper, moving his hands and pulling him down to the couch next to me. “I have an idea.”
Without hesitating, I reach both hands out to the waistband of his black uniform trousers. Impractical, I’ve always thought since they show every speck of dirt.
“Konoe!” Asato says, but despite his surprise, I recognize a heavy desire in his tone. He knows what I plan to do, and he loves the idea. “You don’t have to...”
“Oh, I know,” I say, but my ears twitch slightly. I sort of do have to have to do what I’m about to if I want to stay comfortable, that is.
I don’t wait for any more protests, leaning in to take his lips while I climb off the couch and kneel in front of his long legs. My boyfriend is amazingly athletic. He’s got muscles everywhere—shaped to perfection—and I do desire him. I just really want more time. He’s taller than me and even after these months, I haven’t gotten used to how big he is inside my body.
Also, I’m considering how I can keep his uniform neat and tidy. I don’t want to send him to work looking like he’s just had a one-night stand. Well, maybe a part of me wants to do this very much, but I’d never admit it.
Quickly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers, I scrape my claws gently over the fabric of his underwear. His cock is hard and precum soaks the fabric—and his scent fills my nose. To my surprise, even that first little whiff of his scent goes right to my hips. I desire him, all right. Just, damn it—why now? Why with so little time?
I ignore my own arousal and instead lower my mouth to his cock—still encased in black cotton underwear. I huff my breath against the fabric and earn myself a wonderful low moan. I feel him shiver beneath my fingers, and I don’t tease. He has to go to work, after all.
Without making it feel like I’m rushing, I pull his underwear down his hips just enough to let that gorgeous erection spring free. I don’t leave myself even a second to admire it—his dark skin is gorgeous, flushed to a deep red. Instead, I close my lips and relax my jaw, pushing my mouth against the tip, softly at first, then adding more and more pressure, till my teeth are pressing hard against my lips. I open my mouth just enough to push the head inside, widening my jaw and covering my fangs. It’s taken me a while to learn this, and sometimes when things are heated, I end up nipping just a little. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.
This time my actions pull a deep growl from the cat on the couch. It’s almost frightening—enough to send a shiver through my fur and make me bristle even more. I feel like prey even in this position.
Tonguing the underside of his cock while keeping the head in my mouth, I start to hum and purr. It doesn’t take much—since he is stroking my ears gently, running claws through the fur. I have to keep both hands on his hilt so I don’t choke. Eventually, once I fully relax my throat, I move one hand to the base of his tail, stroking and clawing his fur. I feel his body twitching, his effort to keep his hips against the couch, trying his best not to thrust. Though I can tell he wants to.
“You feel so good, Konoe.” His voice sounds erotic and I can’t help feeling pleased to have gotten him to this state. I keep moving.
Now, I start to bob my head up and down, while letting him slip out of my mouth and then pushing him back in. He is moaning with pleasure at each stroke while he struggles to stay still.
“Ah... Konoe...”
His voice is like a gentle touch to my heart—I love hearing him cry out my name. But I don’t have much time before he has to leave, so I finish off quickly. I tighten my grip around his tail and tighten my lips, strengthen the grip around his cock, and slide it up and down his shaft. It isn’t long before he spills into my mouth—and I swallow.
“Konoe!” Asato gasps, as though he had no idea what was coming. I’ve done this before, and every time, he acts like he did the first.
“Have a good day at work,” I say, a sly smile on my lips, which I’m sure are glistening with a mix of cum and saliva. He leans down and kisses me—surely, he can taste himself in my mouth, but he doesn’t hesitate.
“You’re the best boyfriend a guy could ask for,” he murmurs, holding my chin in his hand and meeting my eye. Lighting up with a blush, I think he could afford to be a little less sappy from time to time. I wonder if he says these things because he knows I’ll be embarrassed.
I kiss his nose and let him pull me up to stand, as he stands up and fastens his trousers. He gives me a little knowing smirk.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, his voice soft and satisfied. I’m pleased with myself, but I am currently ignoring my own hard-on. I consider taking care of it once he leaves, but it flags in a few minutes. Damn it, I wish I had a more fulfilling sex life! So instead, I pull on my shirt and sit back down with the book for my literature class.
My book is engrossing—about a country cat moving to the city, just like I did, I suppose—and several hours pass while I read. I love books—and I have only recently gotten this good at reading, at least since my move to Ransen. In Karou, I was alone—my mother passed when I was young and I never met my father. I didn’t go to school until I moved here. My first classes were intended to catch me up on the basics of reading, and I found I love it. I can immerse myself in the world of magic or fantasy—or even realistic settings.
When I next look up, night has fallen. I stand up and stretch, arms overhead, ears flat against my skull, and my tail as long and straight as it will go—excepting the hook on the tip, of course. I should probably turn on a few more lights, I suppose. When I stand up and turn toward the door, every hair on my body crackles with electricity. What the hell?! Is that... a person standing in the doorway?!
Cold sweat covers me from head to toe as I turn toward the person standing there. He is incredibly tall—even taller than Asato—dressed in black from head to toe in what looks like leather. His get-up looks like something a stripper would wear—cut skin-tight and stretched across his body, the chest open almost enough to flash his nipples. His skin is pale in the low light, and his hair and fur are silver and long, drifting softly in the breeze.
I notice a soft scent in the air—not mine and definitely not Asato’s—reminiscent of the forest after a spring rain. And I’m sure I can smell leather. The cat’s arms are crossed in front of his muscular chest, hands encased in fine leather gloves. He appears to have a little smirk on his lips. Who is he?
“What—How did you get in here?” I demand, intending my voice to be a lot sharper than it sounds. I know I heard the door lock when Asato left—he even locks the deadbolt from the outside. When we first got together, I thought him slightly paranoid for locking me away when he’d leave. But I ended up giving in to his fears, if only for the sake of his comfort. “Who are you?”
“So many questions,” the silver cat replies. His voice sends a shiver down my spine—it’s husky and low, resonating in my heart with a weird magnetism. It sounds almost magical.
Cocking my head to the side, I feel my heart pounding in my ears—and also... something else. It isn’t just fear. This is... lust? Desire? What the hell? I’ve never responded like this from another cat’s voice. To be honest, it's probably not just his voice that is responsible.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my house? How did you get in?” And how long have you been standing there?
“I came when you called. It took you a while to notice my presence, after all that.” He moves his hands to his side. It’s then I happen to see the blade strapped to his back—like a knight of old, he wears a long sword on his back and a short dagger at his hip. What the hell is this?
“What’s with the outfit?” Really, he looks like he’s dressed up for Halloween or some cosplayer’s convention.
“Such a curious little kitten you are,” he rumbles, voice low in his throat. I want him to talk more. It feels good to listen. It’s like a caress to the deepest part of my ears.
Suddenly, he is standing right in front of me—his boots didn’t make a sound—and I’m forced to look up to meet his gaze. He has a single pale blue eye—a gorgeous icy blue—framed with long white lashes. His right eye is covered with a black eye patch. His face is perfect—aside from his missing eye—symmetric with an elegant nose, defined cheekbones, and lips that are slightly too plush for this warrior act he is putting on.
“What... are you?” I breathe. He isn’t a cat. He looks like a cat, but I know he isn’t one. He doesn’t smell like one, first of all. He smells... delicious. Tempting. Perfect. He smells like what I need.
As though he senses my thoughts and emotions, the soft smirking smile lifts the corners of his lips. My fur bristles defensively. He is dangerous. This cat smells of danger. And of sex.
“You called me here.”
My ears twitch at his words, my brows furrow. I heard him say he came when I called, but that can’t be true. He must be trying to trick me. And again, as if he can read my mind, he says, “I do not lie.”
“I didn’t... call you here. I don’t know you.”
“Don’t you?” He asks, his voice sweet and gentle—and oh, my gods, it makes me want to strip off my clothes! I’ve never heard a voice like his!
“I don’t know you,” I repeat stubbornly. My reply only widens his smile.
“Of course you do. I couldn’t come if you hadn't called. As you well know.”
“Who are you?” I ask again, lowering my voice and trying to make myself look bigger.
“Ah, your fur is gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice soft and loaded with sex. I flinch away when he runs his claws through the fur on my ear. “Still so innocent and pure.”
“Who the fuck are you?!” I ask, making my voice louder and backing away from him. My back hits the wall, though, and he matches each of my steps and won’t take his hands off my ears.
“Shh. Relax, kitten. I’m not here to hurt you... at least, not any more than you want me to.”
A pink blush heats up my cheeks and floods my ears at his words, and indignation fills me to the brim.
“Get your fucking hands off me!”
I do my best to push him away, but his chest feels about as malleable as a brick wall. How strong is this guy? What the hell...?
“You’ve been dreaming of me,” he purrs, bending over me to whisper in my ear. Gods, it feels like a command to strip off my clothes if I’ve ever heard one. I have to clench my hands into fists when they creep up to the hem of my shirt. “You’ve seen me outside, too. I showed myself to you three times this past week. Don’t you remember?”
I look up at him and memories invade my mind as though they were forced there. I do remember seeing a cat that looked like him, only in streetwear, at the coffee shop on campus. I remember the pale blue eye and the smirking smile just before I rushed to class. I remember him on the train—standing perhaps ten feet from me in an otherwise empty car, the same pale blue gaze and tall, slender body. The last time... it was the library. In the stacks, looking up from a book, that gaze captured me.
Why didn’t I remember until just now? I think I panicked each time I saw him and moved to escape his heavy gaze. I wish I could do that now.
“You don’t,” he whispers again. “That is not your desire.”
“Have you been stalking me?” I ask, my voice not nearly as strong as it was. It feels as if he can read my thoughts!
“It’s not stalking if you called me,” he whispers.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Rai, the devil of your dreams.” The words are purred softly right next to me, and I can smell his breath—sweet, like honey mixed with spring flowers. It’s making my mouth water. I force my hands down, away from his body, away from my own body, pressing my palms flat against the wall. I have to, or else I will actually start to shed my clothes. “I'm called many things by your kind: incubus, demon, devil of lust, god of love. You called to me in your dreams. I’ve been waiting to come to you.”
“Are you really a devil?” I whisper, unable to control my voice, ashamed of the deep, wet purr spilling instinctually from my chest and throat. My entire body is vibrating with sexual tension, and I start to sweat. His nose twitches slightly and he lowers his lips to where my neck and shoulder connect.
“Mmm. I can smell your desire. Why not just give in?”
“Give in?” My voice is barely above a whisper, and I swallow the excess saliva in my mouth hard, forcing myself to relax. “I don’t understand—”
“Just hush,” he says sharply, his tone now almost angry. “I won’t have my newest slave so resistant—not when you’ve already made the pact. You’re wasting my time with this reticence. I don’t mind if you're a little shy, but you’ve got to release your inhibitions. They are a mantle of lies surrounding your true self. Your true self shines through its thin fabric of make-believe. I see you for what you are and what you want.”
His hand caresses my chin and lifts it to meet his gaze. When our eyes meet, memories of dreams flash through my brain, as though he has put them there. I had forgotten—but these are dreams I’ve actually had this week. Dirty, filthy dreams. My ears and face flood with embarrassment, but I cannot tear my eyes away from him.
“What the hell are you?” I breathe softly—and my voice comes out as sexed-up as his, low and full of barely repressed desire. I don’t want to admit it—but he speaks the truth.
“I cannot lie. I see you for who and what you are—and what you want. What you need.” That caressing voice strokes me like a physical touch. “You are perfect.”
“What do you want with me?” I ask, unable to make my voice change to the indignation I am feeling, or what I think I should be feeling, at least.
“You even lie to yourself. How cute,” he whispers, touching his lips ever so gently to mine. “You know why I am here. You called me to satisfy your desires.”
“What desires?!” I spit, managing to pull up some power from the depths of my helplessness. I do feel utterly helpless around him, my skin itching to touch his—or the leather—gods, I’d love to feel that soft leather against my bare skin. I force my hands back down, away from the belt holding up my jeans.
“Do you want me to describe them to you?” The purring whisper echoes in my head and my heart. “I love the way you think—and I’m delighted to tell you what I see.”
He suddenly moves me—again, I don’t hear the sound of his boots on the floor, only the creaking of soft, well-worn leather. I find myself pressed up against the couch on my back, the larger cat’s form hovering over me threateningly. Is it threatening? If it’s threatening, really, why is my cock dripping against the fabric of my boxers?
“You want someone to take you the way you feel you deserve to be taken. You want someone to make you scream with desire and need. You want to walk the blurred line of pleasure and pain. Your depravity has called me here to meet the deepest secret desire of your heart—those desires that fill your dreams at night, the desires you refuse to share with your partner, the desires you feel such useless shame for having.”
He kisses me—and while at first, I try to struggle, his powerful body simply holds me down. He has pinned my hands overhead against the cushion into which I’m sinking so deeply. Oh, my gods—I can still smell Asato’s gentle, floral scent from this afternoon. I’m instantly flooded with guilt. I can’t do this!
“Another useless emotion,” Rai whispers against my lips. “Kitten, give in. Even if your sweet boyfriend would be shocked by your needs and you are ashamed to tell him what you really want, I can hear them. I’m here to meet those desires with every part of my body. It’s the purpose of my existence.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“You want to be taken roughly. You want to be punished for wanting something that would shock your sweet boyfriend. You want to be held down and fucked till you can’t walk. Can’t speak. Can’t move. You want to be overwhelmed with touch until you can no longer tell what is painful and what is pleasurable. And you want me.”
I gasp softly—because his words strike true to my heart. I try to deny them, but my lips won’t make the words.
“Don’t even bother. I’ve been watching those dreams of yours. I know what it is you want. And I want to give you everything you desire.”
Guilt and apprehension mix with arousal—but it only seems to make me feel even worse. I know this is wrong. I’d be cheating on Asato. I couldn’t possibly—
“It’s not cheating to get what you want. You are only cheating yourself by denying your true desires. You are cheating on your sweet little boyfriend by allowing him to lead you to the bedroom with gentle touches that don’t make a dent in your passion. Give yourself to me. Let me take care of you.”
I hesitate again—or I try to hesitate, but my body has already decided this is what it wants.
“Look at me,” Rai says, pulling away. “That’s right. I will help dissolve this useless guilt. I want nothing more than your utter enjoyment—your complete submission.”
A strange light behind the demon’s eye makes the blue sparkle and glitter, and before I realize what he’s done, I feel a sharp sting against my throat. He’s bitten me!
“W-wait!” I stammer out a protest, but it’s much too late. Something is flowing into me, something hot and wicked, and it starts to melt into my blood, flowing to the rest of my body and pooling in my groin. He doesn’t wait, of course, and now I realize I don’t really want him to. The venom pulsing in my veins makes me hot and sweaty. I even smell my own scent—honey and something softly floral, like orange blossom—drifting from my pores.
“You are delicious. Your desire smells delectable.” The words are whispered against my neck, and my body is flooded with an odd mix of relaxation and excitement. He is licking the wound at my neck, but he’s left behind the mark of his fangs. Again I resist the urge to take off my clothes at the sound of his voice.
“Why resist? You know what’s going to happen. Give in. See what it feels like to let me care for all your needs. Submit.”
Those are the last words I need to hear before my hands obey. I reach to the hem of my shirt and pull it off overhead. He backs away a step, taking in my ivory skin, hands on his hips and tail waving back and forth in a demanding, pushy manner.
“Go on,” he urges. He can’t disguise the heat in his voice.
I unbuckle my belt, unbutton and unzip my pants, pushing them from my waist. They get stuck on my hips, which I’ve often told are too rounded and too wide for a male. I don’t mind as much anymore. I think they add to the curve of my ass, which is both muscular and soft in all the right places. Before I know what I’ve done, I’ve stripped off my boxers as well.
“What a good boy you are,” Rai murmurs, humming and purring his pleasure. “Come.”
He gestures for me to step a little closer and he produces a black leather collar, shiny brass rings jingling softly, which he efficiently wraps around my neck. I hadn’t seen the collar in his hands, and he has no pockets that I can see. It’s as if he’s summoned it from somewhere else. His personal hell, perhaps? I don’t really care as soon as the devil’s long, slender fingers hook underneath the smooth leather, pulling me closer and constricting my airway just a little.
I gasp when he releases me, air rushing into my lungs. Even that little pressure has sent even more blood to my cock, arousing me more than I can ever remember without being touched directly.
“You are beautiful,” the delicious purring voice murmurs.
A violent shiver rushes down my spine, bristling the fur on my tail, at the compliment. I adore his praise and I am eager for more.
“On your knees,” he commands, his voice calm and quiet—betraying his confidence that I will obey—that I’m unable to disobey.
He’s correct, though, since my knees fold suddenly and I crumple to the floor. I look up at him when he lifts my chin, meeting his eyes. The apartment is dim with only my reading light by the couch switched on—the blinds open for anyone in the world to see, were they to look up to the third floor. The breeze from outside makes me well aware that the sliding door to the balcony is open, though the screen is locked from inside. That reminds me... how did he get into my apartment?
A soft chuckle rattles low in the devil’s chest.
“Don’t worry about that. I already told you. You summoned me.”
I shake my head softly.
“I didn’t.”
“Then how do you explain my presence? Devils cannot appear in the apparent realm without a summon and a pact.”
“A pact?” I echo somewhat nervously. I don’t remember making any pact.
“Pacts can be formed in a dream, sweet kitten. And yours was so utterly tempting.” He caresses my chin with his fingers before dropping it, leaving my gaze to settle on those black leather boots that are impossibly tall—up past his knees, hugging his legs like a glove. “Now service me.”
I look up at him in confusion, but he leaves nothing to question when he grabs the back of my head and crushes it into his crotch.
Holy shit. That erection is impossibly large—only the black on black leather has kept it hidden as well as it as. And he wants me to—
“Suck it.”
Leaving no doubt in my mind, I quickly reach up to unbutton his fly, but I’m suddenly shocked by a sharp, swift backhand to my cheek. It is hard enough to make my ears ring—and my cheek burns with the touch of leather lingering there. Tears sting my eyes and I glance up at him, feeling the burn of his disappointment. When he sees my tears, he smiles cruelly and says, “Use your mouth.”
Desperately trying to keep my hands to my side, I try to work open his fly with my teeth. My body starts to shudder when I realize how long this is taking me. I worry I am displeasing him and fear shoots through my chest when his toes turn out slightly. I notice he has crossed his hands over his chest again. I close my eyes and work the belt out of his buckle before managing to unbutton a single button on his pants.
Secretly tensing for another slap, I use my teeth to grab the zipper and yank it down. I’m thrilled to see he isn’t wearing underwear beneath the leather. He gives a soft sigh of relief when his cock springs free. The soft sound is quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
The skin beneath the leather is so pale it’s nearly white, and he has the softest, finest silver fur leading down from his navel to the base of his cock. I can’t help myself—I have to groom it—feeling the strands in my mouth, combing them with my teeth and tongue, thinking I might mark him a little with my scent. He purrs softly before I feel his hands against the back of my head.
“Suck it,” the order is repeated in that calm, neutral tone.
I don’t obey immediately. Instead, I land soft kisses on his hips, his belly, everywhere I can see except his cock. My disobedience is rewarded with another swift slap to my other cheek. It burns as much as the first, but this time a wave of arousal floods my groin unexpectedly, making my sob sound sexual. He grabs my chin immediately, moving my head back to his crotch after the blow.
“Perhaps you don’t understand what exactly you’re here to do.” His voice is as sharp as the sword on his back but wrapped in silk—the patience of an adult explaining the ways of the world to a kitten. “I believe a correction is in order.”
With those words—spoken threateningly and making an incongruent anticipation rush through my body—he yanks my collar and pulls me to my feet. He quickly pulls me behind the couch, pushing me over the back of it so my body is bent in half. He pushes me down so only my tiptoes can touch the floor. I scramble against the cushions of the couch, digging in my claws.
“So you do understand,” he says, sounding pleased with my lack of resistance. And gods, I’ve never been so aroused in my life.
The soft touch of his gloved hand strokes my bare ass, snaking down from the small of my back to the base of my tail—which is harshly grabbed and yanked hard enough to pull a soft cry from my mouth. Then it follows the curve of my rounded buttocks, tracing the line between my upper thigh and my bottom. A finger traces back up, slipping between my cheeks and ghosting across my very-much-unprepared entrance, and I shudder with pleasure and desire.
“Such a naughty kitten deserves punishment,” he whispers low into my ear. I sink my nails deeper into the cushion of the couch, feeling threads snapping beneath them. “You know what you deserve, don’t you?”
I’m nowhere near prepared when the first blow lands on my ass. I was expecting a playful slap from his gloved hand—expecting and hoping for the soft sting of leather—but this is much harder. He has summoned some sort of implement—perhaps a small wooden paddle—which makes my body jerk and my cock strain against the couch. I cannot hold back my surprised yelp after the first blow.
And he shows no mercy. While he starts slowly, he builds up to a fast rhythm that makes each cry blend into a wail.
“So much drama from such a small kitten,” he comments as though talking to himself during this humiliating punishment. “As if you want the neighbors to hear what I am doing to you. You are a naughty little slut.”
My ears bristle—and I don’t know if I feel more humiliated or embarrassed or ashamed. But I can’t quiet my voice—and my wail is punctuated with pleas as I beg for forgiveness. But with each blow of that paddle, my arousal creeps higher and higher—to a dangerous point where I become breathless and unable to control myself. Could I, in fact, come from a spanking? What is wrong with me?!
Just as I feel myself approach the point of no return, all the blows stop, the paddle presses hard against my burning skin, and a hand reaches in between my legs to grab and squeeze my hilt—preventing my release. I gasp in surprise and pain—feeling the wave of impossible arousal dissolve into incredible disappointment.
“Gods—just... please... I can’t...”
“Oh, you can. It’s much too soon,” he whispers, keeping his hand on my cock and the paddle pressed against my skin. “Look how badly you needed this punishment, kitten. You are starved for this. You’ve never wanted anything so much. I wonder how far I can push you before you break?”
A shudder of fear overtakes my body, making it tremble uncontrollably. I whimper softly, feeling the tears cooling on my cheeks, and I wipe my nose with my hands. He’s not going to leave me dissatisfied, is he? He won’t deny me release? I don't have any thoughts of asking him to leave, however.
“Relax, kitten. We’re just getting started. Have no fear. Tonight you shall experience the best I have to offer—and it will be better than your wildest dreams. We will push your body to the limit.”
I’m roughly yanked up by my collar, and a soft choking sound escapes my throat. My feet leave the floor for a few moments, and the air in my lungs slowly is replaced by panic.
“I said, relax.” His voice is firm and calm, and I tremble, goosebumps covering my bare skin as I am held in the air.
I try to obey—relaxing my body despite its protest and desire for air. In a flash, all that panic suddenly switches to heavy arousal, sending a wave of heat to my groin. The demon’s left hand encircles my erection, sending a pulse of undeniable pleasure into my body, and I try to moan, but no sound escapes.
I glance up at the devil holding me in place and see a look of sadistic glee in his smirk. He’s so beautiful—and even if his intentions are cruel, I can’t deny my attraction and desire for him. I want more. I mouth the word helplessly, “More.”
His eyebrows lift slightly in acknowledgment and my collar is suddenly released, letting my body drop to the floor on my knees. They hit hard, nerves complaining by sending an electric throb of pain into my legs. Before I can sit up straighter, fingers comb through my messy hair, grabbing my head and tilting my face up, again facing his cock.
This time, I don’t delay, letting my mouth sink around his cock and sucking the head and using my tongue as though my life depends on it. I suppress my gag reflex as I take him farther into my mouth, resisting the impulse to choke by relaxing my throat.
“Good boy,” he whispers—not bothering to disguise the passion in his voice.
My ass feels hot against my legs. My face burns with shame when I realize it’s from that humiliating punishment. I’ve never been treated like this—it’s both horrifying and humiliating that I’m enjoying it as much as I am.
“Your confusion,” Rai purrs softly, interrupting my thoughts, “being unsure of what you want and why you want it—being ashamed of this depravity—it’s enchanting.”
My ears are stroked gently—oddly gently—as he thrusts up violently into my mouth. I choke and try to pull away, still taking care to cover my fangs as best as I can. My back is pressed flat against the wall, which feels incredibly cold compared to my stinging ass.
“Just relax, kitten. And watch those teeth. You know what I will do to you if I feel even a graze.”
I treat his warning as an invitation. I release my fangs and graze his cock—just lightly but enough so he can feel it. I know I am disobeying and I am doing it on purpose.
“You little brat!” It’s purred in that same, sweet voice, sending a wave of fear mixed with anticipation to my hips. Instead of pulling out of my mouth, as most sane lovers would do, Rai pushes himself in even deeper, cutting off my airway. I can’t even breathe through my nose and I fight the panic.
A desperate protest sticks in my throat, but I do my best to relax my body, my tongue, and my throat, letting in as much as will fit. I even swallow, squeezing a soft sigh of pleasure from the beast fucking my mouth. I swell with pride when I'm able to make a sound like that come from the devil in front of me.
But I know a real punishment is coming when he suddenly withdraws from my mouth, letting my body revel in a breath of air, laced with his fresh scent and musk, sinking into my lungs. Even that is a turn-on—and my hips feel heavy and my cock swollen.
“If a spanking didn’t work...”
His threat makes my eyes blur with tears—tears mixed with fear and desire—and humiliation for feeling this way. I feel I deserve to be treated so roughly—that I have earned this treatment. It feels so real and natural, and more than anything, it’s what I need right now.
“Please,” I whisper softly, my voice hoarse.
“I don’t know if you’re begging for mercy or to be fucked, but I don’t care what you want. Your purpose is to serve me.”
I’m yanked up roughly, my back pressed hard against the wall as his body presses close. Disbelief fills my body when my thighs are grabbed, his fingers sinking deep into the flesh and muscles, leaving bruises behind. That giant cock caresses my entrance—just briefly—and the heat of his body against mine wracks my body with shivers.
He isn’t going to—
I don’t have time to think when the pain of being split open and nearly cleaved in two rushes up from my asshole into my stomach. My cock doesn’t soften, despite my cry of pain—and I think I can feel his cock inside my stomach, pressing against my own hardness as my erection is squeezed between our bellies. It’s unbelievable—as if his cock has broken me, split my body apart, and is crushing my inner organs into my upper chest cavity.
My cries die out into gasping sobs, soft pleas for mercy, as my claws draw against his chest, spilling thin lines of blood behind. My legs are pushed up against my chest then spread wide enough so my knees almost touch the wall behind me before he wraps my legs around my waist.
“So tight and hot for me,” he whispers into my ear—I can barely hear it—it hurts so much! I’ve never experienced this sort of pain during intercourse and it’s unbelievable. At first, I wonder if he’s fucked into me with the hilt of his dagger instead of his cock. But I know from the heat inside my body that it isn’t his weapon. “Relax now, kitten. I don’t want to do you permanent damage.”
I gasp for air—and then my breath is cut off again sharply, making me stiffen my body when his arm presses against my throat. He is pushing me against the wall with the entire length of his arm, the weight of his body crushing my windpipe more than my chest. A fresh wave of desire goes through me—spidering across my back—amazingly originating from my twitching hole. Do I enjoy this? Do I like pain? What kind of person am I that this is pleasurable?
“Stop it,” he commands, releasing my throat and letting a wave of fresh air into my lungs. I inhale deeply, my throat unbelievably sore. “There is no right or wrong when it comes to pleasure. It’s why I answered your call.”
I gaze up at his face—so perfect, practically angelic—and just when the thought rushes through my head, he thrusts up hard inside my body. I can’t hold back the cry of pain—my body feeling used and crushed and ruined. Just the single thrust, though—it’s not enough. I want more. I want more from him.
“Fuck me,” I whisper softly. “Just... fuck me.”
He lifts my face to meet his gaze once more.
“Look at me.”
I obey, tilting my head back against the wall and lowering my eyelids seductively, relaxing my body as best I can with his hardness invading me. In the middle of my next relaxing breath, he fucks into me again, knocking my head against the wall, scraping the wounded skin of my ass with his fingers.
“My naughty little kitten,” he whispers—and the term of endearment makes me feel oddly possessive as though I want to be his. His words are marking me from the inside.
I let out another howl when he suddenly fucks into me again—but I don’t know if this is more pain or pleasure. His hands move from my ass to my thighs, pressing me against the wall with his entire body. My cock is trapped between our stomachs and I let out a keening mewl in response. My chest feels warm and lights up suddenly—something fluttering softly inside me as though my heart is a bird waiting to escape my rib cage.
I cry out again when he starts to fuck into me at a brutal, demanding pace—it’s not so much fast as it is deep and hard. Pleasure creeps up my spine and pools at the base of my tail, into my ass and my balls, even my injured skin shivers with it. I want more—I want to feel more, and I throw myself into it, letting my voice go completely.
My voice sounds with each thrust—gasping uncontrollably and sobbing with pleasure as the desire builds up inside me. It isn’t long before he leans in and invades my mouth with his tongue, nipping at my lips. My sobs spill directly into his mouth and he consumes them. The metallic taste of blood brushes my tongue, and my desire doubles.
My nipples are erect, as though they are reaching out for the muscular chest pressing against me, and my cock is so hard I’m about to burst. I cry out loud when I finally release, feeling a ripple of pleasure radiating out to the tips of my ears and tail, and fresh tears fall as I slowly come down from my climax.
And then I realize he is not stopping. His rough, hard thrusting has slowed slightly—working me thoroughly through to orgasm—but he does not stop moving. It’s only a second after that my oversensitive body begins to protest. My mouth follows suit.
“Please—Rai—please...”
“Hmm?” He meets my gaze, pleased to hear his name from my lips, pleased with my confusion and my oversensitive body.
“Please—I can’t—I can’t—”
“I already told you,” he murmurs lovingly into my ear. “You can, and you will. Simply because it pleases me.”
That’s when he shifts his angle, tilting my body back against the wall. At first, I’m afraid I will fall, but it’s just my shoulders and neck pressing uncomfortably against it now. I feel terribly unsteady and I reach out for him, sinking my claws into his shoulders. And then his cock rubs my prostate.
He pauses for just a moment, as though the sound he pulled from me is the sweetest music he has ever heard. Then he repeats the movement, pulling the same cry from me as before. My stomach tenses, my ass clenches around him, and I try to pull myself up to get away from the overwhelming pleasure. But it’s too late. My body is already responding.
Now he is pulling out enough so just the head remains inside me before sinking back into me—and both the to and fro movements assault my prostate. I quickly lose the ability to breathe, and I don’t even notice when his hand moves from my thigh (both of which are wrapped around his waist and clinging tightly) to the collar on my neck. During his next thrust, he pulls the back ring of the collar back suddenly, making a choking wheeze loosen from the back of my throat. It’s painful—but the lack of oxygen sends a thrill through my body and stiffens my cock even more. And this time, my prostate sends all that arousal shivering through my body with no hope for escape.
He releases for the next thrust, allowing me a gasp of fresh air before he pulls it tight again. I feel the soft leather of his gloves on my neck and in my hair, and he purrs loud and wet each time I gasp and clench around him. He pulls his face away from me, watching my expression—my mouth rounded in a futile battle to calm myself. But any hesitation I was feeling quickly fades as the next orgasm approaches.
He keeps the steady rhythm, thrusting in and out, long hard strokes, tightening my collar, and constricting my airway before he releases. My cock weeps against his torso, the smooth muscle of his stomach crushing me. Unbelievable pleasure rushes through my body and spills from my cock when he holds my collar tight for two thrusts before releasing it.
Gasping in a breath, my eyesight still fuzzy and blurred with tears, I let out a low, loud growl—and my climax spills between our stomachs once again. I’ve never had such a short refraction period. While my balls ache afterward, my second climax is even more satisfying than the first. It sends diffused pleasure through my body, melting it, making it relax and calm.
I’m relieved when the current thrusting comes to a stop. And I realize—with a sense of horror—that this creature has still not come. He is still hard, but he runs his hands through my hair and the fur of my tail, caressing me and kissing my lips, which are relaxed and submissive.
“Good. Very good,” he whispers against my mouth.
I am moved from the place on the wall, but I still feel his cock inside me. My back and shoulders are relaxed and I feel the warmth of several new bruises when I’m laid down on a soft surface. I recognize it immediately as the bed—and my nose is suddenly flooded with Asato’s scent.
Asato.
Oh, my gods.
What have I done?
Finally, the demon pulls out of me and turns my heavy body to the side. Tears spill down my cheeks and I’m overwhelmed with guilt.
“Hush,” comes the soft whisper. I hear the sound of creaking leather—perhaps he is stripping so I open my eyes, despite the guilt in my conscience. He is climbing out of his clothes, unclamping buckles and zippers, the soft squeak of leather adding to the sexy view. He peels his gloves off with his teeth, steps out of those amazing boots, and climbs into bed with me. “What’s this now? No tears. No guilt. None of that.”
He tenderly runs his hands through my hair and I turn to face him, allowing him to press my face to his chest.
“I’m providing something that he cannot. There’s no need to be ashamed. You’ve been such a good boy so far.”
My ears twitch when I hear the phrase, “so far.” He straightens out his body and rests his heavy, demanding cock against my thighs. Fear shoots through me without the anticipation of pleasure this time. I’m so sensitive right now I hardly want to be touched. Even the graze of silky hair brushing against my shoulders and chest is overwhelming.
“Don’t worry. I know what you need.”
I am terribly worried! Rightfully so! There’s a fucking demon in my bed! And I know now that I did indeed call him here.
My chest aches with depravity and horror and guilt, that odd bird-like fluttering starting up fresh. Rai roughly turns me over, so I’m facing away from him. His bare fingers—hotter than the cool leather of his gloves—trace down the length of my spine, caressing my tail at the base and dipping dangerously between my cheeks.
“Please,” I murmur. “Please—I just can’t—”
“But you’ve already seen you can,” Rai says, his voice off-putting with tenderness. “I’m only giving you what you need, kitten.”
I stiffen my back when the head of that swollen cock drags between my cheeks, below my tail. It burns terribly when it ghosts over my entrance—and the thought of him entering again frightens me enough so I start to panic.
“Calm down and relax,” comes the demanding voice into my ear, which is nipped at the tip and then licked thoroughly. “You can do this. You want this.”
“N-no,” I stammer, but I enjoy the touch of his mouth on my ear more than I care to admit.
A firm slap against my rear makes me flatten my ears—and damn, it burns where he touches the area that received the worst from his paddle.
“No argument. I know what you want. You cannot lie to me. Relax.”
I can’t remember how many times he’s commanded me to relax, but by this time, I know better than to disobey. Instead, I do my best to force my body to unwind and relent, softening my ass, my spine, and my insides, ready for him to thrust into me all at once.
To my surprise, he doesn’t. His cock nudges at my well-used and sore entrance, as though stroking me gently and lovingly. Then, ever so slowly, he pushes just the tip of his cock inside, holding tight to my hips but not hard enough to leave bruises. My muscles cry out in protest and tears stream from my eyes, but I press my lips together and relax, not allowing any part of me to resist.
“So submissive,” he whispers tantalizingly into my ear. “Your body is growing used to its master.”
“I have no master,” I growl softly, but even I wonder if it’s more of a purr than a growl.
“A kitten with the soul of a lion,” he laughs low, his breath moving my hair and caressing my shoulders. “You are just my type, little siren.”
I don’t move an inch, knowing that if I do, he will slip out of me and press right in again. Instead, I just wait—if somewhat impatiently—since my cock is still soft from my last orgasm. My balls are aching more than a little now, and I cringe inwardly when I feel him pushing inside me just a little more. I know I am about to get aroused again and I think my body cannot handle it.
“Please,” I beg.
Claws comb through my hair, and his voice soothes me.
“You’re doing so well, sweet kitten. I’m so very pleased with you.”
When he pushes into me just enough so the head of his cock squeezes against that now abused bundle of nerves, sending excruciating pleasure through my body. I cry out helplessly, but I do not move. This is a different sort of stimulation than when he was fucking me roughly. This is deliberate and almost cruel in its precision—and I really don’t dislike it.
His hands rest loosely around my hips, caressing the angles of my pelvic bones gently, pulling at my tail, and bringing the tip of my tail to his mouth. A little shock courses through my body when he bites the tip.
“Ah, you can feel in the tip?” Mercilessly, he grazes the tip with his fangs, sending little shockwaves through my body, making my hips move just enough to push his cock against my prostate again.
My insides clench around him, my ass twitching and my muscles flexing. A low sound escapes my mouth again—drenched in desire and want, though I know I am already so sore.
“Please...”
He continues his ministrations to my tail, whispering about how sensitive I am, how starved for touch I am, how much he enjoys the feelings of my inner walls clamping down around his cock. His purr makes my body shake and tremble, and my purr is helpless against him.
“Please,” I beg again, more urgently this time.
“Such sweet polite words from such a good kitten,” he murmurs into my fur, but he does not stop. He is rocking his hips gently, slowly, in time with how he is nipping at my fur. I keep expecting my tail to lose its sensitivity—but the pleasure he is giving me—both my tail and deep inside my body—is too good, too much.
“Pl—ahh!” I cry out, as my next plea is interrupted with a sharper, deeper thrust. It is surprisingly devoid of pain—probably because I’m so riled up again from his treatment of my tail. He grips my hips to prevent me from moving, pinning me against the bed.
The heat from his skin feels otherworldly—and perhaps it’s because his skin isn’t covered in the fine film of sweat that covers me. Still, his scent fills my nose and my brain, making it foggy and desperate in a matter of minutes.
I relax completely—submit like I have not done so far—relaxing every part of my body from my ears to my tail, letting my mouth hang open, and ignoring the drool that drips from my chin onto my chest. Like before—with each thrust, he pushes out a filthy moan from me. I can’t help it—and I don’t want to help it anymore.
“F-fuck—ah—m-me,” I stammer, wondering if my words are even understandable in this state. “T-take—ah—me—ah—take—me.”
A pleased murmur sounds in my ear. Responding to my pleas, a strong arm wraps around my torso, pulling me tightly against his chest. The hand at my hip moves toward my cock and teases it, spilling another keening from my mouth as my hips cant forward.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “All of you. I want all of you.”
That’s when the fluttering in my chest starts to make my ribs ache—and suddenly it feels like my heart has flown from its proper place, fluttering up my throat and out of my mouth. My body tenses suddenly—all on its own—making my balls ache even more profoundly—but the pleasure that follows is so amazing and floaty I feel high. A bright light fills the room, spilling from my skin, vibrating my flesh and bones, and a sweet melody throbbing in time to my desire and Rai’s thrusts.
He stiffens suddenly, his cock going even harder inside me. My body responds by clenching him tight—and a loud, purring moan spills out over my shoulder as he rests his chin there.
“Konoe...”
Shivers overtake my body in time with the song, bristling my fur, and increasing my desire. I’m suddenly upon my third climax of the night—unbelievably—and I let it come. It is by far the most satisfying of the three since I also feel Rai spill hot and deep inside me—claiming my body and slowing down in time with his breathing.
My heart is still thumping in my ears, and I’m exhausted. The song and light fade slowly from the room, but tendrils of light connect my body to the devil.
“A Sanga,” he whispers into my ear. “I knew you were magical. You’re a Sanga.”
Of course, I have heard legends of the Sanga and Touga from centuries ago. There is no living person who isn’t familiar with those myths. To be called one is a little ridiculous, but my energy is so spent and exhausted, I don’t respond except with a soft hum.
“Perfect,” Rai whispers, continuing to caress my hair and skin with his fingertips, as though he knows how sensitive I am. I shiver but don’t protest. It feels oddly loving—especially after the rough sex we’ve just had. No, not rough sex. Violent sex. Demanding sex. The best sex I’ve ever had.
I finally feel sated, and my purr floats up as my melody fades, entwining itself with the deeper purr of the cat behind me. His cock is softening inside my body and it feels like a part of me. I shudder when he finally pulls out, his cum spilling down the back of my thighs as he does. It should feel disgusting, but it doesn’t. To me, it feels more like a baptism or an initiation—into what world, I have no idea and I’m afraid to let my thoughts wander.
For now, I relax and let my eyes drift closed, not thinking of anything except the soft, exhausting satisfaction that flows through my veins like never before. I don’t even notice my sweet boyfriend’s scent on the pillow. I just simply drift off to sleep, the soft press of Rai’s lips on my neck, shoulder, cheeks, and lips.
When I next wake, I sit up straight in bed. I’m naked, but there is no trace of Rai anywhere. The collar is gone. I remember his fresh scent well—so different from Asato’s musk. My balls ache as though kicked by a horse, though. But there’s not a trace of semen or blood or sweat anywhere in the sheets. My ass hurts—the muscles of my buttocks and also my insides—but not as painful as I expect.
I manage to drag myself to the bathroom, noticing dawn breaking through the glass door of our apartment. Of course, the shades are still open. Wandering to the bathroom after looking around—finding only my book on the bedside table when I know I left it on the couch—I don’t see a trace of the punishing blows to my face or ass when I examine my reflection in the mirror, nor any tiny amount of bruising on my hips and thighs that I’m sure should be there. When I press against my ass, however, it stings still, as though it remembers the pain of that paddle. My hips too remember the bruises without my skin giving anything away.
Was it all just a dream then?
If it was... my gods. What the hell is wrong with me that I think I deserve that treatment?
At least, that is what I think my brain should believe. But if I’m honest, I loved every minute. After washing my face—which is salty with tears, oddly enough—I hop back into bed, closing my eyes, wishing to continue that incredibly realistic dream from earlier. I wonder if my incubus demon friend will visit me again.
My wonderful, tender boyfriend finds me naked in bed—and I’m prepared for him this time, even as he wakes me off to make sweet love to me. I try hard not to fantasize about the devil’s incredibly violent treatment of my body, but I don’t succeed.