Cat and Mouse: A Written Agreement

Cat and Mouse: A Written Agreement

Author's Note: Typically, I don't do this sort of thing, but I wanted to accomplish one of two things. One, I wanted to reassure you that yes, if you are fan of one of my other series, they are still coming, hopefully soon. Two, I wanted to make sure everyone who reads this, knows what they're getting into. This story follows two switches obsessed with CNC. For the uninitiated, that's consensual non-consent. Basically, it can cover a wide spectrum of different dynamics, like rape fantasies, power struggles and some aspect of free-use. Also, these stories WILL contain scenes of the usual NSFW affair plus scenes of pegging and prostate play, choking, ownership some type and amount of degradation, and definitely scenes of one of the main characters being caught by surprise and forced to perform any number of sexual acts. Sometimes the male character comes out on top, sometimes the female. If this does not interest you, I HIGHLY suggest you move on and find something more towards your preferences. Otherwise, please enjoy.

Often when you mix two seemingly harmless components, something far bigger, far more chaotic is produced. When you mix coke and Mentos, well, I'm sure you've either been to enough science fairs or seen more than a few online viral videos to know the result of the two mixing. Fact is, that applies for many things. When you mix ammonia and bleach, a deadly chlorine gas is created. When you mix vodka, ginger beer and a bit of lime juice, why, you get a lovely Moscow Mule.

See, the thing is, generally, when you start to combine any two things, you know what the result is. You know what the outcome is supposed to be. You know what's supposed to happen. I would like to think the same can be said for people. What happens when you put two headstrong loudmouths in a room together? What about two nerds with a love of old science fiction campy movies? Well, you can usually predict the outcome. These combinations of personalities don't tend to make a... chaotic result, one as unpredictable as...

Here's what I'm saying. It's not my fault. Granted, once I saw the bright light of train headed my way, I probably shouldn't have ran head first towards it. Metaphorically speaking, I mean. Obviously, or else I wouldn't be typing this... Whatever this is. Does the Mentos know what coke is? Can it sense it when it's near? Does it know the danger if it gets too close? I'm rambling again. Sorry. That happens when she gets in my head.

That's where I'll start this story. With her.

See, when I moved out of my old apartment, I left on a bit of a bad note with my roommates. That tends to happen you live with five other 20-something year old guys who quite haven't gotten over their frat days. I was a week away from moving out and I needed to find someone, anyone, to get a room with. Honestly, I could've lived with them in their new lease for a few weeks until I found someone, but I don't think I am being hyperbolic when I say if I hear Gasolina one more time in my entire lifetime, I will actually go insane.

It was just my luck, then, that I seemingly stumbled on the perfect solution at the library, of all places. I was sitting by my lonesome, nose buried in a book, probably detailing something about rope tying and knots. Okay, look. There is one very important aspect of this story I should introduce before we continue.

My taste in dating tended to be more... creative? Yeah, that's probably not the best way to put it, but considering that I mentioned reading a book on rope tying, and the fact that, well, you're reading this, I probably don't need to go into much more detail than that. Of course, reading was basically the extent of my experience in the wilder side of things. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely interested in BDSM at the time, but when you're in college and you tell a girl that you want to blindfold them and tie them up, well, they don't exactly swoon at the mention of it. If anything, they tend to cover their cup and avoid you for the rest of the semester. Just my luck that Abigail found me alone at that library, then.

I had seen Abby around campus before, that was for sure, but someone like Abby was hard to miss. I mean, when someone is six-foot and built like a fucking tank, you tend to notice them. Abby hadn't been weightlifting competitively for about a year, she had instead decided to sign up for the wrestling team, so she wasn't exactly built like a brick shithouse anymore, but that's something you tend to remember. Don't get me wrong, she was still... well, I don't think I need to tell you that wrestling is harder than it looks, especially when you know what you're doing, and not just roughhousing like a couple of drunk teenagers.

Granted, I certainly didn't know about her... other hobbies. I wouldn't find out about that until later.

"What's that you got there, Derrick?" I looked up as Abby stepped into view.

"Oh... Uh, nothing, really. Just, you know, passing the time." I placed the book faced down, slightly embarrassed. Truth be told, honesty probably would've been less obvious than my natural reaction. She glanced at the book for a second before meeting my gaze, lips drawn tight in thought.

"I need to do some reading for Humanities. Mr. Handers is going to be the death of me. Mind if I..." she trailed off, gesturing at the empty seat before me.

"Oh, no. Go ahead, it's all yours." I brushed my book off the table, hoping to get it out of sight as soon as possible, and pulled out my phone. I flipped through a number of roommate finding apps, before opening one and thumbing through the listings. When you live in a big city like mine, you practically have to rely on technology to find a roommate, especially if all of your friends were nightmares to live with.

"Oh, no. You don't want to use that app. They track your phone and sell your data to anyone whose interested. Who knows, you might go to meet a possible roommate and walk away with one less kidney."

I looked up at Abby, who was smiling ear to ear.

"Can that happen?" I asked, chuckling quietly.

"Oh, yeah, dude. One minute, you're a perfectly healthy tenant, the next, your lungs are being sold to the KGB."

"Hell, if it means finding somebody that doesn't fill squirt guns with red soda to have a firefight in the carpeted living room, then that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Abby closed her book, setting it down. "Now that, that sounds like quite the story."

"Not really. I mean, what you heard is basically all there is to it. I... should probably make something up the next time someone asks me that, shouldn't I?"

"Depends. Only if you want to make yourself interesting. Good luck finding a roommate, D. I've been looking for quite some time, and let me tell you, it's' a massive pain in the ass."

I didn't respond to that. A thought flashed through my mind at Abby's comment. Is she...? Abby seemed to pick up on what I was thinking.

"Hey, look, push come to shove, wanna look at getting a room together? I've seen you around college and at the gym, you seem pretty cool." Abigail held up her hands, as if trying to pacify me. "No pressure, though."

I mulled it over, not responding for a few seconds. Something was... bugging me. Like an alarm going off in the back of my head, too quiet to understand it's purpose, but still audible enough to be heard. "Yeah, you know what? Why not. It's not like I have a lot of time left on the lease, anyway. We'd better get the ball rolling." Just like that, the alarm went silent.

After that, it was all a matter of a few signatures, a few t's to cross and a handful of i's to dot, and Abby and I were roomies. We moved into the two-bedroom apartment a week later, each of us minding our own business, carrying our own possessions and sorting the boxes separately. Maybe if I had been paying closer to Abigail, I would've found some of the things she brought strange. I mean, who needs that much rope? Not to mention what I assumed at the time to be a harness, something that definitely should've struck me as odd, considering she didn't have any pets. But I didn't notice, so the first time was in her favor when she caught me off guard. That part is still coming, though.

During one of the many game nights her and I spent switching between Super Smash Bros and Mario Kart, she put her plan into motion, asking casually as one would ask about the weather. "Have you ever heard of CNC, D?"

I froze instantly, which allowed her to send my character careening off the screen into defeat. That was the least of my worries, though, as my thoughts raced like lightning through my head. Had she been in my room? On my computer? How did...?

CNC. Also known as consensual non-consent. One of the darker kinks one can be into, some would say. Should I lie? "Uh... yeah. CNC stands for Computerized Numerical Control. It is a computerized manufacturing process in which pre-programmed software and code controls the movement of production equipment."

I'm surprised I still remembered that. I suppose that somewhat failed google search the other day served its own purpose.

"...The fuck? Okay, no." She sighed, exasperated. "Fine. Let's do it this way. Hey, Derrick. Did you know that when you link your internet account to the tv, that syncs up all the information under that account?"

"Okay..." I mumbled, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.

"Including the internet search history?"

Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Fucking fuckfuck.

"Is... is that right?" I stammered, face immediately turning crimson.

"Yep. Let's take a look at what you've been searching up." She grabbed the remote and flicked to web browser on the tv. Videos, posts and links immediately filled the screen. I felt like crawling into the nearest hole and dying as quickly as I could manage. Can someone speedrun death? I was certainly willing to give it a shot.

I lunged for the remote. "Okay, enough!"

She turned and wrapped her arm over my chest, holding me against her so we both faced the tv, remote far out of my reach. She might not be as big as she used to, but damn was she stronger than she appeared!

"Not so fast, cowboy. Let's see what you've been looking at on MY tv." She flicked through a few videos before clicking on one she apparently liked. A man and woman, both stripped naked, wrestled each other in an open room. As soon as one would top the other, they would stroke, lick or fuck the other, both struggling to maintain dominance over each other.

"What..."

"Shhh... Listen. If you want me to stop, I will. You're in no danger here. Not any that you don't want, anyway. Just watch and listen to my proposal. I can see you like CNC. I can feel it, too." Abby chuckled at her own joke as her hands began to wander. "You and I are the same, believe it or not. Think about it. A year, alone. The two of us fighting for dominance, testing each other to see who is the bigger man... or woman. I've had my eye on you for a while now, you know?"

Her hand slipped beneath my waistband, just resting over my cock. A moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

"And I think you like me, too. Either that, or you give really mixed signals. Here's what I propose for tonight. You and I follow their example. Copy what we see on tv. Wrestle, and see who is the stronger of the two. See who can make the other cum first. Loser has to do what the winner says, no ifs, ands, or buts. I win, and I'll make you my bitch. You win, and you can bend me over that table and make me your little cumslut. Deal?"

Perhaps my mind wasn't thinking clearly, maybe Abigail's hand slowly stroking me up and down, maybe her teasing me ever so lightly had me wrapped around her finger, but 'no' seemed like quite the curse word right about now.

"Deal."

Just like that, Abby pulled back her hand and flicked off the tv, pushing up off of her. It was only then I had realized just exactly what I agreed to. I had challenged the College Championship Wrestling team leader to a wrestling match, winner take all, and I do mean all. I thought about changing the rules, backing out, but hell, I definitely was into consensual non-consent, and although this was definitely not a usual way to go about it, losing is half the fun. That doesn't mean I was going to let her off easy, though.

We took off our socks, and most of our clothes, just down to our underwear, and squared off from each other. Abby grinned at me like a wolf sizing up its prey. She was already underestimating me. Good. That could work, that could work...

She lunged forward, hands reaching for my shoulders. I ducked under her grasp, and twisted her arm, using her momentum to fling her across the room. She tumbled across the floor and I thanked a silent prayer to whatever powers that be that we lived on the first floor, or else noise complaints were sure to be the end of us.

My brief stint into piety was interrupted as she rushed forward, slamming her shoulder into my midsection and tackling me to the floor, my boxers soon flung across the room. My advantage from the underestimation was just about used up, it seems.

She quickly wrapped her lips around my cock and bobbed up and down, her hands twisting and pumping while the other crept down to my balls and began fondle and tease them.

She really isn't messing around, is she? I grabbed her legs and attempted to twist her off of me, but Abby was clamped down tight. Her legs slipped out of my grasp, and wrapped around my neck before I could reclaim my grip, slamming me back down to the ground.

"If you wanted to lose so badly, you could've just told me. There's nothing to be ashamed of for wanting to surrender and just be my little bitch." She teased, before returning her focus, trailing her tongue up my shaft while her hand stroked my tip. A strained moan escaped my lips as I thrust up into her hand.

Fucking hell, if this kept up, I was going to lose, fast and hard. Reaching around her muscled legs, I pushed her panties aside, and slipped my fingers inside her. A desperate moan followed her surprised gasp as she looked back at me.

"That's cheating, you ass! You need to have me pinned to do that!" She pouted, her hand still pumping, threatening to milk me for all I was worth.

"I didn't hear that in the agreement." I croaked from between her legs, pushing more fingers inside her pussy.

She smiled playfully at me. "So be it, big boy." She turned back, wrapping her lips around me before I felt her fingers slip down further. What was she... Oh, you've gotta be-

"Fuck!" I cried out as her fingers slipped inside my ass. I had... explored a few times, but her skilled fingers threatened to push my resolve down into sweet, blank bliss.

"Mmm... I see... I think I've found your weakness." She giggled, before thrusting in time with her pumping. My fingers now lay, limp, as I thrust up into her hand, lost in the sensation of pleasures she assaulted me from all sides with.

"It's okay. You've already lost. Be my good boy, and let go for me. Lose yourself to how good I make you feel."

I could only groan in response to her teasing, and as my body began to shake and tremble, I burst, covering her hand and face. I moaned and gasped, breathlessly, as she slipped out her fingers. I could barely respond as her lips pushed against mine and her tongue pushed inside of my mouth. A second later, she pulled away, lifting me in her arms.

"Let's get you tucked away. You can shower tomorrow. After I'm done with you, that is. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

My body felt so heavy and my head rolled as my eyelids began to drift shut, Abigail's soft voice lulling me to sleep. The last thing I felt was the blankets and bed shift as Abby slipped in bed beside me, arms wrapping me up, cradling my head to her chest, my soon to come punishment far from my drifting mind.