Leashed Ch. 03

"You wouldn't have changed if you hadn't wanted it," he says flatly.

"Excuse me?" I gasp, arousal flashing to sudden anger. My hackles stand up and my lips vibrate when I slam the ground and growl. Like a dog. "The fuck you mean if I wanted it? You think I want to turn into some freak like this and live the rest of my life hiding from everyone?"

Seeing how upset I am, he raises his hands, palms outward.

"Familiars can be forced," he says, his voice even slower than before. "It makes them more feral. Their base needs are amplified even more than- than- well. And their humanity is lessened. It's rough but I've seen it done. I divined a few things about you, how you like piercings-"

"Did you- did you use your magic seeing water to stare at my titties?!" I yell. It's so fucking absurd that I almost lose it but I hold it together because, seriously, what the fuck.

"No!" he groans. "I couldn't see- it was just rough images-"

"Of my titties?" I demand.

"I'm trying to talk!" he finally yells, eyes flashing and his jaw flaring.

It hits me like a train. The dominance. It's something to do with the link we have but also just the way he speaks and holds himself. I claw at the earth and do my best not to moan as my tail curls down to press against my shorts. My ears angle backward and I stare at the ground.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm just trying to explain myself here and it's difficult for me. I've looked for you for a long time and I don't want you thinking I'm debasing you into some sexual object."

I'm sorry, too, I really want to say but, fuuuuck that, I refuse, despite my lowered posture.

"The magic wouldn't work if you weren't receptive to it," he says, slowly again. "We share a bond but that's just one part of it. In the simplest terms, the fetishes were an offer and your soul agreed. A pact was made and here you are."

"Here I am," I say quietly, staring down my body.

I want to believe him. He sounds sincere as hell. But me wanting this? Magic and sexy wizards and familiars and a whole other world out there that I didn't know about.

The link I felt at the back of my mind vibrated.

"It can be undone," he says. There's real pain in his eyes. "Before the bonding."

Huh. Seeing him vulnerable makes me want to comfort him. My chest hurts. No. My heart. It physically hurts. I don't even know him and somehow I want to go to him and wrap my arms around him.

"I don't know," I tell him, staring at the ground once more while trying to calm myself. "Is your place close? Maybe you're right; maybe this isn't the best place to have this conversation."

"Yeah," he answers carefully. "Pretty close. If you grab your sweatshirt, I can walk you there."

"No," I reply. "Give me the address and I'll come over. I have to stop at my place for a second."

He stares at me for a moment and my ears flick. My heart's not aching so much as racing now.

"What are you doing?" I ask when he takes a step towards me.

"Just watch," he says. "I haven't had a chance to show you much."

I shrink back a little with my arms over my chest but he kneels and reaches out slowly. His hand brushes my muzzle and I can't stop pressing into it with my eyes closed. His fingers are wide and rough and he gives me a little scratch on the jaw. And then higher on the ears and I huff. The man, who shall remain nameless to me until I can trick him into saying his name once more, runs his fingers through my short black hair.

And then I smell him. Drool fills my mouth and I growl and then sigh. He scratches the top of my head and gives me a quick pat before withdrawing. I can almost see him despite my closed eyes. He's an actual physical presence in my brain, no longer a phantom.

"There," he says softly. "Now it'll be a little easier for us to find each other."

I don't trust myself to speak so I just nod and press my paws hard against my thighs. My fingers tremble and I bite the inside of my mouth as my ears lay flat.

"I'll wait for you," he says.

I nod wordlessly again and he turns and leaves before I collapse against the log with a quiet moan.

Jesus.

When he's out of sight, I grab my hoodie and pull it on. My tail struggles in my grasp but I shove it back down into my shorts where it slams against my legs in a tantrum.

I know exactly where he is and roughly how far away he is. He's sad. I feel that, too. Worried. It's a complicated weird mix of emotions. Extra noise in my brain that I didn't really need. And yet, I seek it out and hold it close.

I treasure it.

We walk away from each other as I make my way back to my apartment.

--

A little over two hours later, in the dead of night, I find his house. It's huge. He had to have magicked up money because house prices are ridiculous even for a two bedroom shack squeezed between other shacks.

I've stood on the steps for a few minutes and that's stupid because he has to know I'm here. But he hasn't moved since I entered the neighborhood. He's playing it cool while I stand out here like some chump.

What am I doing here?

I have the same hoodie on but with a t-shirt beneath it and the sweats I'd worn earlier but with new, non-soaked running shorts beneath. My purse is over my shoulder and it feels like it weighs a million tons. Still barefoot. But not pregnant, thank-

Oh god. Can I still get pregnant? Would it be little puppy humans? Or a litter of tiny babies?

Delay, delay, delay.

Step up, step up, step up, knock knock.

Ahh, he's moving. Up and walking. Anxious, curious- excited?

A car passes behind me so I bow my head beneath my hoodie. The headlights shine off of the studs high on my ears. I can't quite keep them entirely under the hood so they peek out like curious little things.

But then the door opens and he's there.

"I forgot your name the minute you told me," I blurt out. Real smooth. Real smooth. "Right at the park when we first met. I have no idea what your name is."

"Noah," he says, with an easy smile. "Come in. Please."

He steps back, sweeping his hand while I walk inside. I pull my hood back to rest against my shoulders. My ears flatten during the motion and then pop up again.

Honestly, it's a little disappointing. It's spartan furnishing and a very male place. Everything is new and nice quality - leather couches and wing back chairs but there's not much of it and it leaves the huge house feeling empty. I guess I expected fine art or magical doo-dads or golden statues of some strange god. But there's none of that.

"Do you want a tour?" he asks, walking around me.

"No," I tell him. "Can I put my purse by the door?"

"Of course," he says.

He's studying me. This close, the connection feels a little fuzzy and it's somehow harder to read the emotions I felt earlier.

"Do you have somewhere we can sit?" I ask him. I feel the muscles tweak in my ears and they brush through my hair as they angle back. I'm still getting used to what that means. "I'm not used to shoes on- my- my feet and the run was maybe overboard. I think I overdid it."

"Oh, sorry, yeah," he says, scratching his nose for a moment. "I'll show you to my study."

"A study?" I purr. "How fancy."

"It's not really," he says with a little shrug as he walks in front of me.

"I have a living room that barely fits a couch and a television," I tell him. "A bedroom, a bathroom and a little kitchen. 'Study' isn't in my housing vocabulary."

"It's just a room with-" he starts to say.

"Bookshelves and chairs and couches," I sniff. It comes out as a weird little chuff with the hint of a growl. "I watch Downton Abbey."

The study is more of what I was expecting. Bookshelves line the walls around me, glowing with their highly polished wood. They aren't completely filled but there's more books than I've seen outside of a library. Chief lays on a thick dog bed beside an empty fireplace. He has his paws crossed and he's studying me intently as I enter.

That's me.

The doberman look. He's pure animal but I share his characteristics. The sleeky, glossy tan and black fur, long ears and graceful, lean lines. Now that I see him, I can smell him and he's cleaner than I expected. His nostrils open and close as he takes my scent in and then he lays his head down on his paws.

Two large chairs, both worn from years or decades of use, are arranged before a low, round table. Noah gestures at one and he sits on the edge, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. Ignoring him for the moment, I take my time to look around. Making him wait because, contrary to what he's done, I'm not his toy.

The chandelier is lovely. It dominates the ceiling with crystal teardrops in three layers over the center of the room. They're motionless as they hang there, frozen with fragmented reflections of us and the study in their smooth curves. It's warm, overly so despite the fireplace being empty. Too warm and I'm tired of wearing baggy clothes. I'm finding more and more that I'm not a fan of too many clothes. They feel wrong with my fur.

Without asking permission, I pull my hoodie off. My shirt lifts with it, exposing my teats and their piercings. I feel it dragging against them, tugging the ends of the and twisting the little nipples and I definitely didn't need those little pleasurable reminders right this minute.

Tugging my shirt back down after tossing the hoodie aside, I hook claws into my sweats and step out of them, pushing both against the empty chair. My tail curls immediately as if it's stretching, excited at being freed.

Now I sit.

And sigh, sliding my shoes a little on the floor. He's barefoot and in loose, light sweats and another one of his long sleeved shirts.

Hah. He showered before I came over.

Oh. How do showers work with fur? Do I stink? I can't smell anything stinky on myself but I only now realize I haven't showered since I changed and I went for a run and- and- and I'm stalling.

There's just so much and I'm sitting here face-to-face with him in his house. And it's not even our third date. My mother would think I was a slut, going to some stranger's gigantic mansion on the first date. Well, first interrogation. Still stalling.

"I'm sorry," he says suddenly.

"About what?" I ask, confused.

He looks down at my feet and I pull them back. I open my mouth to tell him it's not his fault but, really, it is. What do I even say about that? I bend my toes but they're not quite as responsive as they used to be.

"Is it bad?" he asks when I don't say anything else.

"They're stiff," I admit. "And my calf muscles aren't used to how I stand yet. They're just sore is all. I just can't tell if that's because of my run or because of how they are now."

"May I?"

I bark out a laugh and he looks both confused and affronted with his hands out.

A massage. This isn't my first rodeo. 'Oh gosh, I'm so good at massages, why I don't give you one. With my dick.' Uh-huh.

Still. They do hurt and maybe giving his hands something to do will help him relax and make this whole thing less awkward. For him.

I pull my chair a little closer and lift my foot, which he grabs immediately. His deft fingers undo the laces of my shoe and he pulls it off. The relief is immediate and immense. My tan-furred paws are wider than his hand. The claws tipping my bulging knuckles rest against his fingers while my broad forefoot padding lays against his palm.

Noah reaches with his other hand to hold the sole of my foot in place before resting it high on his thigh. His hands are warm against me, even through the fur. His right thumb presses into the arch, carefully digging into the skin. He works his thumb in a slow circle, kneading the sore muscles. His fingers rub against the sharp hairs covering the top my foot which tickle my sensitive skin and-

Ah. A memory of right after the change. Watching my feet turn into paws. Bending and tasting and feeling the heat rise while my cheeks burn. I should stop him. I should.

He lowers his first hand to dig both thumbs in and I lean back to enjoy it. My shirt pulls up just a tiny bit but my lower teats lay exposed.

And I know they are.

And he knows they are.

His thumbs pull back, grinding against my paw as he works up to where my heel is.

Oh. Oh gosh.

The more his fingers work, the stronger the memory is of when I cleaned my feet. My breath catches as the sensations return and his simple touch builds pleasure. My heart beats faster and my ears begin to lower. I look up to see him focused on his work, dark gray eyes carefully noting how my paw works and where he should touch to make it better.

I grew wet in response to the soft touch of his rough hands and his intensity. Mixed with the memory of my own self-discovery, blood rushes down to my pussy and my labia throbs with my heartbeat. My tongue laps out to my nose and my hand toys with the bottom of my short. Dull claws idly scratching my side and pulling the shirt higher.

He presses the tips of his other four fingers against the tops of my foot, scratching me while working his thumbs back to my arch. My tongue lays against the bottom of my mouth as my lips part. The edges of my broad tongue rest against the outside of my muzzle.

At the corner of my eyes, I see my pussy. I glance down and realize my tight running shorts have vacuumed sealed themselves to me. In my arousal, my folded lips have become swollen and their outline are clearly visible. Thick lips that brush my thighs even with my legs spread.

A tiny wet spot lays at the center of the lips.

I should probably stop him. I should.

His thumbs press into the leathery padding while his fingers pull against my toes. They flatten and spread out to show wild tan fur between them and the bulbous black padding beneath every toe. It's hard to tell but I think my toes have shortened slightly while expanding to handle claws and padding.

With every motion, my claws arch forward, tapping his hand while he works his metaphorical magic.

He pulls himself closer to me, sliding his chair until my ankle rests high on his thigh. Noah hunches over to see more clearly as he caresses my furred toes.

I can feel his breath on my foot, warm and soft. His mouth is so close and I can't help the memory surging forward once more.

"Hmm," I say, pulling my tongue back in and breathing through my nose to hide the moan that so desperately wants out.

"Is it alright?" he asks.

"Yes," I say quickly. And then I close my mouth. My claws dig into my thighs as he continues.

The padding over my forefoot is nearly two inches thick and pure black with gray speckles. He digs at it, pushing and tugging and pressing and my toes bulge outward, knuckles curling as he works from one side to the next.

The wet spot has widened slightly. My mouth opens once more and I began panting as my ears twitch and my face burns. My ears slice through my hair to lower as the heat builds within me. His fingers slip over the padding and I turn my head with an awkward coughing growl because it's stupidly sensitive and I want to whine like a dog. My ears are flat and I'm leaning back more with another row of teats showing.

And then he trades feet and begins the pleasurable torture once more. Fingers to the sole, digging and clawing as he slides up to my heel.

The memory returns again but it's him now rather than me in my daydream.

In my mind's eye, I watch him lift my foot to kiss the padding. He breathes out slowly, purposefully and his breath flows around the leathery skin, surrounding it before sliding beneath my fur to the bare skin below.

While he methodically massages my foot, I see the other him bend and lift my foot. He rubs his cheek against the soft fur on the curve of my arch and then his eyes open and he stares up at me as he kisses the soft skin. I can almost feel the stubble on Erotic Daydream Noah's face. He ends at the padding and then smiles and kisses along the length of my foot.

In the real world, my claws dig painfully into my thighs and a I grind my teeth while wrinkling the skin on the bridge of my muzzle. I lick my lips and stare at him as he rubs the heel of my real foot.

I growl and my chest shoves forward but I try to hide the motion by bringing a paw up to my face to scratch the black whiskers.

"Is that okay?" he asks, concern plain on his face.

"Yes," I tell him, gasping it out before clamping my jaw shut. How can he not feel the raw arousal through the link we're sharing?

As he had with the first time, he starts to work towards my forefoot.

I can't stop imagining the evil version of him kissing my sole once more until he reaches the dense padding. That version looks up at me again, ensuring I see him before opening his mouth to drag his tongue over the swollen skin. I can almost feel it, wet and warm as it flattens against me. In the real world, he holds my toes, digging fingers in between the aching joints. His free hand holds my foot steady.

Other Noah growls in my daydream. I know that isn't right but I don't care. He finishes cleaning my padding and then smiles at me. More teeth than he should have. But then he's human again with his scraggly, short beard and soft eyes and warm smile.

In my daydream, he pulls my foot up and nibbles on the bulging black skin beneath my first toe. He kisses the fur on the side and then spreads the toe to lick between then, dragging his tongue against the tan fur. His lips close on the longer fur and he makes a little tugging motion with his head and then laughs.

I've completely lost what the real Noah is doing at this point. The heat has overtaken me and I'm sweating a little bit with my ears down, tongue nearly touching my chin and my hand clawing at my chest.

The other, deviant Noah groans, opens his mouth and my toe's claw taps his teeth before he opens wider, taking my toe entirely in his mouth. He suckles at it, holding my foot in place as the tip of his tongue curls down and over the bulbous padding to the exposed skin at the bottom knuckle. His tongue rocks back and forth, slipping and sliding over the soft, leathery skin until the fur on the top of the toe is completely soaked. He pulls the toe free and it drags at his bottom lip.

In the real world once more, I slide my foot up his thigh until it touches his cock. The wet spot between my thighs has spread to cover my swollen, aching pussy lips completely. He glances up at me sharply when I start to rub his limp cock back and forth, dragging my claws against it until it wakens.

Noah's dick twists and turns and I guide it, pushing at it with my padding and spreading my toes to encircle it. My toe rings catch the light as I stroke him carefully, masturbating him with my foot. I press and it lays against his belly as it grows completely erect.

I can almost imagine a sheath holding it in place. My big toe rubs the side of his cock and I squeeze my toes as my hips writhe, imagining him inside of me. My claws drag against his clothing as I press and slide my foot, stroking him carefully down to the base of his cock and then up, holding the arm of my chair to anchor myself.

He opens his mouth to say something but I shake my head and my earrings jingle. I pull my foot back and stand, twisting my hips as I take my shirt off and drop it beside me. He looks up at me and I catch his eyes as I claw down my side and then up to my teats, dragging my fingers against the piercings. To show him. To show him what I am.