Claim Me (Your Pet For The Night)
By
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Claim Me (Your Pet For The Night)
Bonus Material 1 - Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night)
Bonus Material 2 - Submitting to the Doctor
Bonus Material 3 - Bound and Humiliated
A
s the fading light of day streamed through the half-open curtains, casting long and angular shadows across the room, Jolene lay in the middle of the bed, feeling as if she was being swallowed by the soft and sumptuous mattress. The bed she lay on was a grand four-poster relic from times passed, standing proudly in the center of the room, its purpose meant more for accumulating social currency, rather than the comfort of sleep, among other things.
The room seemed both to sparkle and dance around Jolene. The aged hardwood furniture, tastefully placed around the room, without even a hint of mismatch or clash, seemed to shine in their polish, and devour the light all at once. The oak floors mimicked the furniture, both reflecting and devouring the sun’s twilight rays, as if to punctuate the contradiction between physics and perception.
Jolene exhaled softly, and shifted one of her arms so that it rested above her head. Her body was carefully positioned amidst the soft, silk pillows. Like the bed in the center of the room, she was in the center of the bed, on display, glorious. The dark floors and furniture in the room, the bed and its posters, all served to highlight her, as if she was the main attraction at an exhibition. She smiled and let her eyes close softly, reveling in the comfort she now felt.
Jolene was naked. Her milky-white skin seemed to glow in the dimming light of day. Her hair, straight as a ray of light, was dark and black, and cascaded over the pillows, spread out around her head as if it was an immaculate crown or headpiece. Her breasts were firm and high, peaking in large yet delicate pink nipples that throbbed faintly in their stiffness. She had been teasing her nipples occasionally, sporadically. It was as if she had wanted them attentive, but not agonized; taut, but not tortured. It was as if there was a threshold that she would not pass. When she approached it, she sent her finger elsewhere, exploring her body, caressing her skin, shutting her eyes tightly so she could focus all of her attention on her touch, on the contact made between her fingertips and wherever they landed. Sometimes, but very rarely, she let her fingers off their leash, giving in to her own physical yearning. She let them stray between her thighs, noting the supple smoothness of her own skin, fluttering over the fibers of light, wispy hair that, like an arrowhead, converged on her womanhood. She would even allow a finger to dip in between her dripping lips, gasping at her own touch, smiling as sensation thrilled through her. But it would always only be for a moment, a quick foray south. She never lingered and the pleasure she felt was always fleeting.
For the better part of the afternoon she had been exploring her body, sending light touches along her skin, stimulating her nerves to a starving frenzy. She knew that her man, her lover would not arrive until after the sun had completed its descent, until after an cool, deep blue darkness suffused the sky. For the better part of the afternoon, she had been on the brink of climax, teasing herself with gentle, expert caresses that edged her as close to orgasm as possible, without actually reaching that peak, without actually cresting. She longed to crest, longed to climax, but to do so alone would feel empty. She wanted, needed to wait for her lover, the man who would bring her to bear with passionate grace and love.
Still, she teased herself, flirted with the idea of bringing herself to white-hot orgasm. All it would take was a few soft touches, a specific pattern, a rhythm… no! She must not. Though it would leave her shuddering and shivering with delight, it would still pale in comparison to experiencing her lover, his large, powerful hands, his skin stretched tightly around his taut body, his gentle firmness, insistence, persistence…
She moaned softly, thinking of the times that he had touched her, brought her rapidly to climax, or teased her agonizingly. Though she appreciated, even cherished the times she brought herself to the ultimate plateau, she could not ignite within herself that spark of animalism, that fire of carnality. Only her lover could do that.
With a heavy sigh, and heavy-lidded eyes, Jolene closed her legs around her hand, and the same time caressing and gently squeezing her left breast. She felt, for a moment, that she had started too early, that she had been performing this ritual of self-teasing and non-satisfaction for far too long… that she couldn’t possibly hold on, hold out. It was a fleeting thought, but it potent, poignant. It was as if the pressure within her had reached the threshold, like she needed to release.
No! She retook the reins of her resolve and tugged tightly at them, steering herself back on course. She couldn’t come. She couldn’t! Not only because it would dampen the desire she had burning within her, but because she had promised him she wouldn’t. She had promised him she’d wait. She’d wait. She had to wait.
She ran her fingers up and down through her scarlet slit, feeling the slickness in her lips, the moisture of her arousal. Her labia was distended, engorged, the effect of blood being channeled to her sex in preparation, in stimulation. She ran a finger over her clit as it protruded angrily, hungrily from beneath its hood, pulsing to the beat of her heart, a hard button, a bundle of nerves, the key to her pleasure. Her tender touch sent electricity shooting through her, ignited her pleasure centers, set her mind on fire.
Gradually she began to part her lips, rhythmically, moving a finger on either side of her vulva in and out, spreading her labia, baring it to the openness before closing it again with a squeeze between her fingers. She could hear the sounds of her sex, sticky and wet, like a hungry mouth smacking its lips in hunger, in starvation. She caressed her swollen pearl, determined to bring herself right up to the point of orgasm, insistent on feeling that near-perfect pleasure, just one step away. She sent two fingers exploring into her sodden canal, feeling the depths of herself, running up and down her front wall to feel its texture, to massage the mottled skin that marked her g-spot.
Her consciousness entered tunnel vision and the room around her narrowed down to her womanhood, her fingers, her pleasure. Her eyes were shut, her body was writhing, her hips were bucking. She was moving frantically, nearing herself to climax when suddenly two powerful fingers squeezed at each of her nipples, sudden and rough that she screamed out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, her eyes springing open. Before her was her lover, smiling cruelly, wickedly at her. She gripped him by the neck with one hand and pulled him toward her, forcing her tongue into his mouth as she began to orgasm. He tightened his grip on her nipples and she massaged her clit ferociously, sending her over the top in a wriggling, convulsing, clenching fury of pleasure, spasms and wetness.
As her pleasure waned, their kiss became more passionate, and she pulled him onto the bed, holding him tightly, her tongue dancing with his, their bodies touching the entire length. He ran his hands over her uncovered body, feeling the curve of her buttocks, feeling the swell of her breasts, the fullness of her lips, the puffiness of her pussy.
“Darling,” she said, continuing to rub her sex, swollen and reddened, the excretion of her climax smeared on her hands, into the tuft of neatly trimmed pubic hair that garnished her pubis, over the insides of her thighs and vulva. She slumped in his arms, the exhaustion of orgasm laying siege to her body as she panted quietly. She ran a hand to her brow and found beaded droplets of sweat, and looking down her chest she saw the space between her breasts shiny, glistening. Her lover followed her gaze and sent his tongue roaming over the sweaty skin, tasting her salt, an image of things to come.
She made to move but he pressed her with that gentle firmness, that strength that told her she was his, and that tenderness which told her he would not hurt her, that he would only care for her. “Stay still,” he said, sending his finger over her lips. She made to bite his digit and he recoiled playfully, their smiles meeting each other at the exact same time.
He looked down the length of her body, and Jolene saw admiration in his eyes. His hands ran down her legs, touching their smooth, shiny skin, feeling their shape. They ran up the insides of her thighs, stopping just before the pit that marked the land of her womanhood. He applied a gentle pressure, spreading her legs wide on the bed, baring her to him, revealing her sticky, swollen sex in all its glory, its beauty.
“Wow,” he whispered genuinely. “It gets me every time.” He slid two hands beneath her buttocks and, with effortless strength and a gliding-smooth movement, hoisted her off the mattress before slipping a pillow neatly under her.
Jolene let her eyes softly close and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, excitement welling inside her, anticipation of the night that had yet to begin unfolding. She always closed her eyes when her lover touched her, when they commenced their communion with the caring caresses. She liked the uncertainty. She did not know when her lovers touch would come, or where it would be. But she knew that, at some point, he would touch her and that the contact would send sparkling signals searing through her body.
She first felt his touch on her right ankle, but it was not his hands at first. It was something much softer, a fabric. She smiled, laughing a little in delight as she realized what it was. She felt him binding her leg to the bedpost with one of her scarfs. Then the second one was bound to the other side, leaving her sex gaping open, trembling and quivering with moistened anticipation.
The next touch of fabric she felt were on her eyes, something made of silk, another scarf perhaps. She felt his hand beneath her head, felt him lift her slowly upward and slide the silk beneath her. He wrapped it around her eyes and across the upper portion of her nose so that, when she opened them with a playful laugh, she could not see anything.
“Oh,” she whispered breathlessly, the shivering realization of what was to come sending tingles down her body to converge on her sex.
She heard the scrape of a match, just a light hint of friction, before the sharp flare of fire reached her ears. She squealed softly, smelling the growing scent of incense, feeling their aromatic fingers slip inside her nose, thick and thrilling.
“Darling,” she whispered as she heard her lover walk around the room. She knew what he was doing and it had been so long since they had loved each other in this way. She heard the padded footsteps of his feet on the wooden floor, heard him move from one side of the room to the other before returning to her. She felt his warmth as he neared, felt his presence beside her, felt the mattress move beneath her as he sat himself on the edge of the bed.
Her nipples grew stiff in anticipation. Jolene was panting quickly.
The first touch of hot wax landed on her breast and she gasped, feeling the pain penetrate her, feeling the ensuing pleasure that flared up like one of the struck matches. She felt him drizzle the wax over her breast, around her areola before reaching her nipples, covering them in them a peak of molten wax. The wax was searing, and the pain was present, but only fleetingly as the air was cool and the wax quickly last its bite and hardened. The wax was like armor over her stiff nipples, a coating that would protect them from any outside touch, if only momentarily. He moved to the other breast, and the hot drizzle of wax forced a gasp out of her mouth again, before her mouth twitched into a vicious smile, relishing the pain she felt pierce her only to unleash a pleasure within her.
When a third drizzle of wax did not come, she shivered in delight and reached forward toward her lover. Her hand found the hard muscles that lined his stomach, and she sighed happily as she realized that he had taken off his clothes. She ran her fingers down his abdomen, feeling the soft hairs of his trimmed bush, before coming across his manhood, standing erect, protruding out from his pubis like a weapon. She wrapped her fingers around it, impressed with its thickness, as always. She traced the serpentine veins that bulged along the length of his shaft, that coiled and snaked around his girth to disappear beneath the bulging dome of his wide helmet, hard and throbbing with desire.
