street mutt

Your new master frightened you at first—he’s much bigger than you are—but he’s never unkind to you. He only teases you sometimes by tweaking one of your long, sensitive ears, then rubbing the hurt away between his large fingers.

He found you abandoned in an alley on a miserable day, soaked through and half-dead. He bundled you up in his coat and carried you home, where he carefully nursed you back to health. Now you have a room and a bed of your own, and soft warm clothes and a pretty collar.

The collar makes you feel strange. You never liked wearing collars before, but for some reason, knowing that he put this collar on you makes you feel warm and safe.

Your favorite thing to do with your master is sit in his lap and let him pet you while he watches TV. One of his big hands moves in long warm strokes up and down your back, while his other hand rests possessively along your hip and thigh, holding you close to him. Your head rests comfortably against his shoulder and your eyes are drifting closed. You run a sleepy finger under the edge of your collar, feeling the soft leather and reminding yourself that you belong to him.

His voice is a low murmur in your ear, making you shiver. “Is your collar bothering you?” he asks.

“N-no,” you say, snatching your hand away. You didn’t realize you were fidgeting with it again. You don’t want him to think you don’t like it.

He catches your chin with his fingers and gently tilts your head up until you’re looking into his eyes. His gaze is assessing. You’ve never spoken about it, but you think he’s guessed that you haven’t been treated well in the past.

“Do you want to take it off?” he asks.

“No…” you whisper.

“Are you sure?” he says, as his fingers brush over the clasp.

“No don’t!” you gasp, and you press your hand to your neck, grabbing the collar and holding it in place. “…I like it,” you force yourself to say. You feel your face grow hot, and the blood starts to rush through your long ears, your body trying to cool itself off.

Grinning, he pinches one of your ears and you squeak in surprise. Then he strokes the spot just the way you like him to, rubbing the delicate skin between his fingers. You melt against him as he pets you, sighing happily, and you hear the base rumble of his laughter through his chest.

“Do you like it when I touch you here?” he asks.

Your face and ears grow even hotter. You’re embarrassed, but you force yourself to answer, “Yes…”

He hums in reply, deep in his chest, and continues gently stroking your ear, running his fingers over the thin fur in longer and longer strokes. Your ear feels so fragile and sensitive between his big strong fingers. A strange tingling feeling starts up between your legs, and you barely stifle a surprised whimper. What is this feeling? The longer he spends stroking your ear, the stronger it gets.

From then on your master starts to pay extra attention to your ears. Why didn’t you tell him that you liked it sooner? You look forward to sitting in his lap each evening with a new, guilty sort of excitement, eager for that feeling to start between your legs while he pets and strokes you. It almost hurts, but for some reason you’re desperate to keep feeling it. It makes you feel all soft and fuzzy and drowsy; no one’s ever made you feel this way before.

It gets to a point where you can still feel that tingling between your legs for hours after you leave your master’s lap, making you agitated and distracted. You need some kind of relief, but you don’t know what will help. You wish he would keep stroking you all day.

One night after you go to bed, you can’t fall asleep because you can’t stop thinking about your master’s fingers on your ear. The tingling feeling starts up again, stronger than ever, and you press your thighs tightly together, squirming and whimpering to yourself. It's not enough. You press your pillow between your legs, hoping for some relief, and you whimper at the feeling of the fabric pushing into your wet folds. It feels so good for some reason… You move your hips slowly back and forth, pressing your folds into the pillow again and again, whimpering at the sensation, trying to keep your little moans and gasps quiet. Something about this feels so dirty. If your master found out you were doing this, would he be mad?

For some reason, thinking about your master makes you feel even hotter and more sensitive. You start imagining his hands gently running up and down your back, gently stroking your ears. You hump faster, excited, throbbing between your legs. You’re desperate for some kind of release but your folds just keep aching and dripping. Eventually you tire yourself out, lying panting and frustrated with your pillow between your legs, and you fall into a fitful sleep.

You start to get nervous around your master after that, thinking about what you did, and worried that he’ll know how you feel when he touches you. He’s noticed that you’re acting weird, but he doesn’t say anything. He just gives you your space and avoids touching you too much, which only makes you more frustrated and sad. You spend several shameful nights rubbing up against your pillow, trying to alleviate the constant ache that’s settled between your legs.

You can’t go on like this. Your master hasn’t held you in days, and it’s making you miserable. The next night, when he sits down to watch TV, you very deliberately crawl into his lap and curl up in his arms, silently begging. You’re determined to sit in his lap and be pet like normal, with no weird thoughts or strange feelings. He laughs and pinches your ear before settling you more comfortably in his lap. Even that little pain feels good, since you know what comes next, and you go limp and malleable in his arms. Just like always, he strokes the skin of your ear where he pinched you, gently smoothing away the hurt. You bite back a whimper, but you can’t keep from squeezing your thighs together at the unwanted feelings stirring between your legs.

He notices your squirming and he stops stroking you. “Are you alright?” he asks, voice low and serious in your ear, curling his big fingers around your knee.

His voice and his fingers do something to you. You want him to touch… What if he touched… No. You scramble out of his lap, mortified that you couldn’t keep it together after all.

“I don’t feel very good,” you mumble. “I’m— I’m gonna go lie down.”

You rush to your room, face and ears hot, folds wet and aching. You need to do something, to hump your pillow again, to get rid of this feeling so things between you and your master can go back to normal. You pull off your underwear, mount your pillow, and start humping wildly, thinking about his fingers on your knee and his low voice in your ear. If only you could make this feeling go away… Tears of frustration prick the corners of your eyes, but you can’t stop your hips from moving. It feels too good in that aching place between your legs.

You didn’t realize he would follow you to your room to check on you. You don’t realize he’s watching you pathetically hump your pillow until you hear his low laughter from the doorway. Your eyes fly open and you squeak in surprise, ears going red hot with embarrassment, but you can’t stop moving your hips.

“So this is what you’ve been getting up to,” he says.

“M-master,” you whimper between gasps, “I can’t… I can’t stop…”

“Shhh, shhhh,” he says, going to you, sitting down next to you on the bed and putting his big warm hand on your back. There’s still laughter in his voice but he’s trying to soothe you. “It’s alright, pet. Is this what’s been bothering you?”

“It feels so good…” you whimper, ears burning. “Between my legs… When you touch me…”

He presses closer to you, and a thrill runs through you from feeling his warm body pressed against yours. You start to slow your hips, trying to get a hold of yourself.

“No no, keep going,” he says, “it’s alright.” He slides his hand down to your rump, pushing you forward, guiding your movements. His voice is a low, teasing purr. “Poor little thing, does it feel good?”

“It feels so good, master,” you whine, unable to control yourself. “But it… It hurts too.” You jerk your hips forward, grinding your aching folds into the pillow. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimper.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, pet, you’re alright. …You might be in heat.” He sounds torn between concern and amusement. “I’ll take care of you, okay, just keep humping your pillow.”

You snap your hips faster, spurred on by his encouraging words and by the feeling of his big warm hand on your rump, but you already know it won’t be enough. “Master…” you whine, and he chuckles at how desperate you sound. “It’s not enough… I need more…”

“Good bunny,” he purrs, “tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know,” you pant, humping harder, needing more friction against your sensitive folds. “Please, I need you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My ears,” you whimper. You can feel them burning with embarrassment. “Or between… Between my legs…”

Smirking, he obediently moves one of his hands to your ear and begins to finger the soft skin. You whimper and buck your hips faster. The way he’s touching you… It’s different from before, more teasing, more sensual, gliding his fingers up and down your ear from the base to the tip. It’s so distracting that you don’t notice his other hand drifting down from your rump until he slides two of his big fingers between your legs, pressing them between your wet folds and the fabric of your pillow. You gasp and moan, hips working even faster. Now you’re humping his rough fingers—they’re pressed right into the hard little nub where it feels the best, and you moan out loud as he rubs his fingertips in little circles around it.

“Master,” you whine. “It feels so g-good…”

“Good little bunny…”

“Please keep rubbing me,” you whine. Somehow it keeps feeling better and better, your folds aching harder and harder. There’s a pressure building up inside of you.

“Master,” you whimper. “Something’s happening… I’m going to…”

“Shhhh, keep going pet, I’ve got you.”

He rubs you faster and faster as something builds and builds inside of you. Your mouth is hanging open on a long moan, your hips grind themselves into the pillow, grinding your folds into his fingers. Suddenly something seems to break inside of you and you cry out as your mind goes blank and waves of pleasure crash through you, and your master grips you in his big hands and murmurs encouragement into your ear as you cum all over your pillow.

You whimper and twitch with aftershocks, still weakly bucking your hips, and he runs his warm hand up and down your back, whispering praise into your ear, telling you how well you did.

“Is that better?” he asks, voice teasing.

Yes, but… Your mind races over everything that just happened: how good you felt, and how he made you feel even better, how gentle he was and the way he touched you…

“You want more?” he asks when you don’t respond, and you nod weakly, pressing your face into the mattress to hide your embarrassment. You squeak as he grabs you around the waist and pulls you into his lap, settling his hand between your legs. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest. Using two fingers, he starts to play with your sensitive folds, and you squirm and gasp under his touch. Before long your pussy is aching again, thighs spreading for him, and your breath comes in pants against his shoulder.

“Do you trust me?” he murmurs, and you nod against him. Slowly, he pushes one of his thick fingers inside of you, making you whimper as he strokes your sensitive walls from the inside. You practically melt into him. You love feeling him inside of you, in a place no one has ever touched before, not even you. It makes you feel like you belong to him, the same way the collar does. You reach up a hand to finger the soft leather, gripping it close to your throat, and for some reason, seeing you do this makes him smirk. He pulls your hand away, then loops his own strong fingers under the collar, curling against the back of your neck—not tugging or pulling, just holding it firmly while he inserts another finger into you, stretching you out. Your hand snakes down between your legs, bumping up against his, and you start to rub your clit the way he rubbed it before, in little circles, while he fucks you with his fingers. Touching yourself like that, with his fingers working inside of you, and his other hand gripping your collar… You start to whimper loudly, desperately, and his smirk grows even wider.

“Good bunny, touch yourself for me,” he purrs against your neck, fucking you harder, faster, and you start rolling your hips to meet him, wanting him deeper, wanting more of his fingers.

“Master,” you whine, and then suddenly you’re cumming again, bucking your hips and shuddering in his lap and moaning against his shoulder. He hums into your ear, feeling the way your pussy grips his fingers, then laughing when he pulls them out and you whine in protest.

“This needy little pussy,” he says, stroking your dripping folds with his knuckles, making you shudder and spread your thighs wider. "You need me to make you cum again, don't you?" You nod dumbly as his teasing words and fingers make your folds start to ache again. He reaches between your legs to unzip his pants, and his cock springs out and slaps against your thigh, hot and hard and throbbing. You’ve never seen this part of him before—it’s enormous. He takes it in his fist and rubs the tip against your folds, coating the head in your wetness, and you bite back a strangled moan, grinding your hips forward to increase the contact.

“Want me to put this in you?” he asks, and you nod frantically, groaning with renewed need. It’s so much longer and thicker than his fingers… He lifts you up until you’re kneeling over his lap, facing him with the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. You squirm and pant with anticipation, and he puts his hand on your lower back to pull you closer. “Be good and start off slow, okay?”

You’re so eager to have him inside you that you’re prepared to ignore his warning, but as you start to lower your hips, sinking down onto him, you can feel how much he’s going to stretch you out, and a sudden twinge of pain makes you squeak. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your face against his shoulder, surprised by the pain.

“I told you,” he says, holding back a laugh, running his hand down your back in long soothing strokes. “It’ll only hurt at first,” he says, voice low and gentle against your ear. He grabs you by the hips and lifts you slightly to relieve the pressure, then lets you sink back down, letting you continue to control the pace, but with his strong hands on your hips to keep you from going too fast. Inch by inch you impale yourself on him, wincing at how tightly it fits, but loving the feeling of him inside you, of being invaded by him. You belong to him and only he’s allowed to touch you like this.

Soon enough he’s buried inside of you all the way to the hilt, with your pussy lips pressed flush against the base of his cock. You cling to him while you adjust to the feeling, trembling against him, and he murmurs praise in your ear, telling you how well you’re doing and how good you feel and how cute you look all needy and desperate. He slides his hand down your back to your soft fluffy tail, stroking the base where it connects to your spine, making you shiver and press closer. Then he wraps his fingers around it and tugs. The feeling shoots all the way through to your cunt, and you squeeze around him involuntarily, whimpering with pleasure. He pulls on your tail once more, twice more, and then you can’t help it, you start moving your hips against him, feeling his long hard length pressing and shifting against your walls. It doesn’t hurt anymore; his cock is stroking somewhere deep inside of you, making your pussy throb, making your hips buck faster, needing more friction. He grabs your hips and bounces you up and down in his lap, plunging deeper and deeper into you.

“Master, please!” you whine. “Make me cum!”

He groans in your ear, “I will, baby, I will, just keep riding my cock.” He grips your hips and slams into your pussy, harder and deeper, filling you up completely, and that pressure starts to build again deep in your core, your walls trembling and squeezing around him.

“Master,” you gasp, “I’m about to cum.”

“Me too baby, keep going,” he says, voice tight, and you’re thrilled to realize that he feels as good as you do, that he’s going to cum too and feel that intense pleasure with you. You imagine his cock throbbing and twitching inside of you and you start to cum, voice going louder and louder as your orgasm builds, then crying into his shoulder as you rock against him and shudder and cum in his lap. He groans in your ear, “Oh fuck good bunny cum on my cock,” his hands on your hips grip hard, slamming you down into place on top of him as his hips grind to a halt and he cums deep inside your pussy.