#59th.cycle

The tall cat hybrid had been spoiled rotten by everyone since the day he arrived. White hair perpetually messy, vivid blue eyes gleaming with mischief, and a lean, muscular frame that moved with lazy grace, Satoru was the definition of a brat. His features were striking—cat ears twitching atop his head, a long, fluffy tail swaying behind him—but everything else about him screamed trouble. Especially when he decided you were the toy he wanted to play with.

You were bent over a stack of feed bags, checking inventory on your tablet, when you felt him. The heat of his body pressed close, the unmistakable hardness of his cock grinding against the curve of your ass through your jeans. A low, rumbling purr vibrated from his chest as his hips rolled in slow, deliberate circles.

“Satoru,” you warned, voice tight, “I’ll handle you later. I’m busy.”

He only huffed, ears flicking, and pressed harder. His hands slid around your waist, claws lightly pricking through fabric as he nuzzled the back of your neck. “[Name]… wan’ you nowww,” he whined, voice dripping with that spoiled, teasing lilt that always set your teeth on edge.

You tried to shove him off, but he was stronger than he looked—lean muscle coiled beneath soft skin—and he simply laughed, grinding again, the thick line of his erection dragging insistently against you. Heat pooled low in your belly, but irritation flared hotter. He had been testing you all week: stealing kisses when you were trying to work, purring filthy suggestions in your ear while you fed the others, even flashing that pretty cock of his when no one else was looking. Enough was enough.

You straightened slowly, turning in his grip until you faced him. His blue eyes sparkled with challenge, tail lashing behind him. “You want my attention that badly?” you asked, voice low and dangerous. “Fine. You’re getting it.”

His ears perked, a cocky grin spreading across his face—until you grabbed his collar (the simple leather one your uncle had given him) and yanked him forward. The grin faltered into a surprised yelp as you marched him toward the back of the barn, past the empty stalls, to the small equipment room where you kept the heavier restraints.

“W-wait, what’re you—?”

“Quiet,” you snapped, shoving him inside and locking the door behind you. The room was dim, lit only by a single hanging bulb. A sturdy wooden table sat in the center, already fitted with leather cuffs at each corner. You had used it before. Satoru’s eyes widened when he saw it, but the spark of excitement in them told you he wasn’t truly afraid—just thrilled.

You pushed him onto the table, manhandling his tall frame with practiced ease. He was strong, but you knew exactly how to pin him, how to twist his arms behind his back and buckle the cuffs around his wrists. The leather creaked as you tightened them, forcing his chest down against the wood, ass up, legs spread. His tail flicked wildly, ears flattened, but the way his cock twitched against the table betrayed his arousal.

“[Name], this isn’t fair,” he whined, voice already pitching higher. “I was just playing—”

You cut him off with a sharp slap to his ass, the sound echoing in the small room. He yelped, hips jerking forward, but the red handprint blooming on pale skin made your pulse quicken. “You’ve been a brat all week, Toru. Teasing me, grinding on me, ignoring my orders. Time to learn some manners.”

Another spank landed, harder this time, and he moaned, the sound half protest, half pleasure. You rubbed the sting away with your palm, then reached for the small cabinet where you kept your tools. The strap-on harness was already waiting—thick, ridged, and intimidatingly large. You stripped out of your jeans and underwear, stepping into the harness with deliberate slowness, letting him hear every buckle and snap. His tail curled around your calf, a silent plea, but you ignored it.

When you stepped back into his line of sight, his eyes locked onto the silicone cock jutting from your hips. He licked his lips, but the bratty facade cracked just a little. “That’s… bigger than last time,” he muttered, voice shaky.

“Good,” you said, moving behind him again. You slicked the toy with lube, then pressed two fingers against his entrance, circling and teasing until he was pushing back against you. “You wanted attention? You’re getting it. And you’re going to take every inch.”

He gasped as you pushed inside, slow at first, letting him feel the stretch. His inner walls clenched around the toy, hot and tight, and the low moan that tore from his throat was pure need. You gripped his hips, claws of your own nails digging in as you set a punishing rhythm—hard, deep thrusts that rocked the table and forced broken sounds from his pretty mouth.

“F-fuck—[Name]—ahh, too much—!!”

You didn’t slow. Instead, you reached around to wrap your fingers around his leaking cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts. He bucked, trying to fuck into your hand, but the cuffs held him firm. Every time he got close, you stopped—edging him ruthlessly, pulling back just when his thighs started to tremble and his tail lashed in desperation.

“Please—please, I’ll be good—let me come—!”

“Not yet,” you growled, landing another spank on his already-red ass. The hybrid cried out, ears pinned flat, but his cock throbbed harder in your grip. You kept him there, suspended between pleasure and denial, until tears pricked the corners of his eyes and his whines turned into full-bodied sobs of need.

Only then did you reach for the small remote on the table. You placed a small vibrator in his leaking tip and turned it on low, and his whole body jerked, a strangled cry ripping from his throat.

The onslaught pleasure against his body was devastating.

Rough pegging, the relentless edging, the vibration against his cock, the sting of your hand on his ass—you pushed him higher and higher until he was babbling, voice hoarse, begging without shame.

“I’m sorrym'sorry for being a brat—please, [Name], I need it—need you—!”

You leaned over him, biting the shell of his fluffy ear as you finally, finally let him tip over the edge. His orgasm crashed through him like a storm, cock pulsing in your hand, cum spilling across the table in thick ropes. His walls fluttered around the toy, milking it as you kept thrusting through his release, overstimulating him until he was shaking and whimpering, tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

You didn’t stop until he was a boneless, sobbing mess, tail limp, ears twitching with every aftershock. Only then did you ease the toy out, unbuckle the cuffs, and gather him into your arms. He clung to you immediately, face buried in your neck, purring brokenly as you stroked his hair and whispered praise.

“Such a good boy for me, Toru. Took it so well.”

He sniffled, nuzzling closer, voice hoarse. “M’sorry… won’t tease again… maybe.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple before wiping him clean, massaging his wrists, holding him until the tremors faded. His heat was still simmering beneath the surface, but for now, the brat was tamed, content in your lap with your fingers carding through his white hair.

wc. — 1366.