Futanarium 1: An Erotic Short Story Bundle (6 page)

Once again she dared to glance up at her mistress just quickly, seeing an expression she had trouble taking as anything but disgust and anger. She had never seen it before and was unprepared for the hollow feeling it left in her. It was fear. For the first time in many, many months she felt fear at the unknown again. With Isha, it had always been known before.

Fear of choking, fear of reprimand, fear of specific objects like the riding crop or the arm and leg sleeves that forced her to crawl around on her elbows and knees. All of it was for a reason but this was not. She could feel tears build, her imagination running wild with the situation as it always did. She imagined being cast out onto the street again, that Isha would never speak to her or of her again.

Most likely the sorceress knew what she was putting her pet through and coldly let her despair. The pain from the slap had long since dissipated, leaving only pleasant, tingling warmth behind. Tanya still did not risk looking up again. While looking at her mistress’ feet it occurred to her that their dynamic was an odd one. Isha was only a few inches taller and not at all as hardened by life as her pet, but what she lacked physically she made up with by presence. It felt natural to be kissed by her, it was easy to accept discipline from her. When she called, you came.

Tanya closed her eyes to calm her breath entirely. She felt movement in front of her. Not movement away and not violent movement. She opened her eyes when she felt Isha’s soft digits on her cheeks, holding her head as the sorceress leaned forward and pressed delicate lips to her forehead. For the first second it was hard to relax. She was still fearful, but one look into her mistress’ eyes was all she needed to dispel the fear. The kiss had ended but her head was still held.

“
You’re still not thinking properly, Tanya. Who are you? Servant, pleaser, submissive, those are all whats. -Who- is the real you?”

She struggled to understand. She could not. “Mistress, I don’t understand,” she said. Her voice was meek, quiet. It was beyond her and it was the most disheartening feeling she could imagine. To disappoint this woman who gave her everything, had remade her. “I’m sorry, mistress. I’m sorry.”

Isha was still for the longest time. Tanya had averted her eyes again, looking down rather than face the calmness in front of her. Calmness she did not deserve. She shot a hesitant glance up, little more than a twitch of her eyes, but still enough. She felt her mistress’ lips against her forehead again, before the woman’s hands withdrew from her face as she stood.

“
You think you deserve punishment, Tanya. Don’t you?”

“
Yes, mistress.”

“
What for?”

“
I don’t kn--” The second smack hit her on the same cheek, as unexpected as the first. She only slowly realigned her head, her teeth showing as air wheezed in and out between them. She cracked open her eyes. Where others might have expressed resentment and anger, she felt worry. Sorry that her actions had made the one she cared for more than any other hit her. It was a crippling, burning weakness in her chest, one that made her throat clump. “I’m s-sorry, mis--“

Her other cheek flashed with an overload of feeling, the third smack sending her to the ground. With her hands locked in the stocks she could not stop the fall. Breath came in hard bursts through her nose now. She opened her eyes again, seeing and smelling the dry large stone tiling. It smelled like long, sunbaked, comfortable days and almost made her want to stay down. Tanya shook her head, clearing it a little. She knew better. Raising herself back to her knees she sat on her heels, eyes firmly locked on the floor and Isha’s bare feet.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Tanya? Punishment.”

If she had been able to shrink away entirely she would have done so. She had wanted punishment. Liberating, harsh punishment that would absolve her of her fears and worries, but that was not what was happening.

“Close your eyes.”

She did as she was told. She kept still and waited for what might come. Smack, kick, a scolding, or perhaps worse than all else, being left alone. Though there was not a hint of fondness in Isha’s fingers as they lead cloth around Tanya’s head, relief still flooded her letting her relax for a moment. The fabric was tied tightly behind her head. The blindfold was in place and the darkness was complete.

It took another few seconds but she gathered the courage to lift her head to try and determine what her mistress was doing by sound and smell alone. She could hear slightly agitated breathing and a light shifting of feet. Something was picked up and then walked back towards her. “Mistress?”

No words. She felt hands press in between her thighs and lower leg, applying gentle force upwards. She took it as a nonverbal command, raising herself up to rest directly on her knees. Isha was close. The pine scent of her soap was distinct above all the earthy tones of the house or their bodies. Tanya felt rope wrap around her thighs, not one at a time but both. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“Stand.”

The only sound other than breathing and rope against skin were those words. She did as she was told, soon feeling her ankles being wrapped securely in rope as well. It was all she could do to stay balanced and upright as she was tied.

“On your knees.”

This time the rope was tied between her ankles and thighs. It was short, restricting her from moving them further apart than what was required for kneeling. No more commands seemed to be forthcoming so she remained on her knees, listening. It was quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet you only experience when something is going on. Tanya turned her head, angling it up towards where she felt Isha’s presence.

A new scent hit her nostrils, she knew what it was. She parted her lips to ask mistress what she wished but was stopped by feeling the thick shaft rest against her cheek. It was like a knife to her throat, in a way. Her early training was still deeply rooted in her and it was a powerful enough memory that she still froze as she had been taught and let Isha take what she wanted. Even her lips remained frozen in place, parted just slightly. Below the blindfold her eyes moved to stare at the blackness near where she felt the warm, slightly damp weight against her skin.

Isha’s body was close to her. She could feel the sorceress’ balls gradually press up against the line of her jaw; feel the weight of the hefty shaft push towards the center of her face, smearing across her features. Warm, viscous precum painted her cheekbone lewdly as the crown of her mistress’ shaft strayed downwards. She felt the thick vein below against her lips and pushed a gentle kiss up at the lightly veined skin.

That was not what was wanted of her, though. Instead she compliantly opened her mouth as far as she was capable of, feeling that fat dick take up so much space. It astounded her every time. Her jaw began to ache lightly and she felt the corners of her mouth strain a little. She had opened as far as she could to give her mistress’ large cock a new home but it seemed Isha had no intention of using anything but the welcome mat, simply letting the crown of her cock rest on the girl’s pillowy tongue.

“
You keep your mouth open, and you keep it in your mouth, Tanya. No matter what.”

She gave several faint, swift nods, feeling comparatively cool air through her nose and against the roof of her mouth for a long moment. Then, Isha began to withdraw. Tanya had not been prepared, had simply believed that she was in for more training than they had managed in the morning. She desperately tried to shuffle forward and lean forward, stretching her neck as far as it would go, but she could feel the warmth and weight slipping from her tongue. Isha still moved backwards.

With a high-pitched mewl, Tanya lost contact, her outstretched tongue hanging in the air for a moment, her slightly strained breathing joining with Isha’s. Her teeth curled as she withdrew her tongue and sank to her heels, whining quietly.

“
Look up, Tanya.”

She did, with wet breath pushing past slightly parted lips. She was not far from a panting dog, in that moment. A dog that knew it had done something it was not meant to. Her shoulders rose defensively as fingers dug into her hair and yanked her upwards, the iron grip holding her head in place to receive three hard smacks in quick succession. Right cheek, left, right again.

Her breath was fast and tears had been driven from her eyes at the stinging hits to her face. Slowly, hesitantly, her shoulders sank again and her grimace lightened. She parted her lips and stuck out her tongue again. The grip on her hair was still there and this time it was used to guide her deeper. She felt beginning contractions in her chest as the fat, heavy dick pushed deeper in her mouth and into her throat, the silence in the room broken only by sharp squelches, withheld retching and Isha’s breathing.

It was the first time she had been trusted to do this without a gag. That was the only thought her mind had room for, other than the pressing, primal alerts that accompanied choking. Her throat worked furiously to clear the blockage; the squelching, wet sounds strengthening in number and volume as she sank towards her mistress’ pelvis. Her nose bumped against soft skin, and she knew that this was the worst it would get. It was almost a comfort to be able to feel Isha’s skin against her forehead.

For a moment, at least, it was close to comfort. But the need for air became ever more pressing and her panicked squelches became ever loud. She began to thrash and emit nonsensical warning sounds. She could feel her jaws tightening, fighting against it with all she had. But Isha kept holding her in place.

A single, desperate exhalation was let out. She felt the hold of her hair loosen and fell backwards. Autonomous, high-pitched gasps filled the room with sound as the drool-covered, messy shaft withdrew. She breathed around it, trying to calm herself, knowing from experience that the rush of adrenaline would subside and be replaced with a bittersweet, aching weakness. She waited, and breathed, and occasionally closed her lips around her mistress’ fat dick.

Tanya felt a fingertip press against the blindfold. The damp cloth pushed against her skin and slowly she realized how teary she got during her attempts to please mistress. She let out a high-pitched, meek whine as the finger trailed down over her cheek, down below her chin before leaving her. She would be given no more pauses.

It was an uncomfortable waddle out of the room, past the kitchen and into the living room, even if it was slow. Moving on her knees like that was not something Tanya was used to, even less so while she had to worry about keeping Isha in her mouth. The stocks didn’t make things easier, with balance being a serious concern. More than once she felt herself teetering on the edge of falling over as she rushed along to follow her mistress.

To her surprise, she heard the light metallic scratching of key finding lock, and soon after felt the stocks open, freeing her neck and giving her tired arms leave to sink down along her sides.

“
I’m going to sit, Tanya.”

She followed the movement as best she could as her mistress eased down into a low leather chair. It was clear that Isha was still on the edge of the chair, since Tanya could not feel the distinctive sensation of toughened leather against her skin, only smell it. There was a little shuffling and a pillow was thrown in front of her knees.

“You know what to do, miss submissive.”

It was hard for her to judge Isha’s tone. She did not sound particularly spiteful, though it was certainly in there to some extent. Disappointed, it was hard to tell. She was too aroused for it to be easy to tell the subtleties of her moods by voice alone. Tanya knew what was expected of her, regardless. On her knees, given a pillow to rest on more comfortably; this was the fairly obvious signal that her mistress expected to receive oral attention.

Temporary rules stopped applying so Tanya withdrew, her moist lips hovering a hair’s thickness from the slick, large crown of her mistress’ shaft. Puckering her lips, she pressed an almost prim kiss onto it. To her, the regular blowjobs she was expected to perform had become almost ceremonial. It was a calming, regular thing for her to do. Her lips dragged languidly down the back of the shaft. In spite of having disappointed her mistress before, this was still her place. She turned her head, catching the thick cumvein in a gentle trap between her lips. It reaffirmed her.

She had taken her usual position without any thought going into it. This was what she did every day, sometimes several times a day. It was second nature. One small hand wrapped partway around the base of her mistress’ thick length and the other cupped those large balls carefully, lifting just slightly. Her tongue ran flatly from below the middle of the shaft and up the side, the solid warmth supplanting into her own form slowly as she pressed lingering kisses down to the base, and then up to the head.

Tanya had never needed to have great technique before Isha, she had gotten by with feeling and love. Later on her technique had not been important at all, but that had changed. At first she had watched her mistress masturbate and then she had been told to replicate as much of that as she could, but with her mouth. Gradually, over weeks and months, she had progressed into what amount to a practiced milking machine.

First, her lips pushed down to envelop the crown. She withdrew and let her tongue curl around and almost hug the head before she pushed back onto it. She sank deep by her own measures, managing almost half of the hefty shaft before having to pull back. It was only then that she set up the diligent pace, bopping back and forth past the crown and down the shaft, stroking up and down that fat dick.