Little Bad Wolf Ch. 13

My arm, the one with the bruise from the... thing, keeps threatening to be completely better. However, it continually persists in nagging me, just a little. The bruise itself is almost gone, and I'm past the point of it being painful to bump against things, but the general soreness just lingers.

It's more unusual than that, though. It gets this odd feeling of pressure that I've never experienced with any sort of bruise or abrasion. Even with most of the bruise no longer present, I can still feel the shape of that hand that left it when it gets like this. It doesn't hurt exactly, it's just enough to remind me it's there. I've found no rhyme or reason for why it happens or when.

Having not used the cream granny gave me in several days, I consider it again. It didn't seem to do much, but I suppose it's worth another shot.

I wait until everyone's occupied or out of the house. More or less. I consider Sophie napping to be 'occupied'. I go to where I left it in the downstairs bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me.

I open the cabinet to the vanity and open the lower drawer beside it, letting me reach in to grab the jar I'd cleverly stashed under the drawer. I panic for a moment when I don't find it but discover it's been dragged along by the drawer that's sitting funny on its tracks.

Setting the jar aside, I push the drawer in, to find it doesn't quite close. I try it again. And then a few more times. Each time it refuses to slide in completely, leaving itself sticking a few inches out. I pull it out and give it a strong shove, but the only thing that changes is that it's now stuck in that position, jutting out, and I can't even pull it back anymore.

I sigh angrily and hang my head. I'm sure Flint can fix this, but obviously, I can't leave the jar in there, now. He'd surely find it while getting the drawer back in place.

I accept it can't be helped and proceed with opening the jar and diving my fingers in. Fortunately for me, my wolf nose gets a whiff before I ever touch it to my arm. I bring the jar to my nose and recoil. It must have gone bad because it stinks something awful. If granny meant for this to be refrigerated, she didn't mention it.

I quickly wash off my hands with an excess of soap, to get the rancid smell off of my fingers. As I dry them off, something occurs to me, and I take the jar again. I take a tiny sniff, certain not to fill my lungs with that again, but enough to confirm its familiarity. It reminds me of when I bit the creature. I couldn't smell it at all, but when I sunk my teeth in, it struck me with that foul taste like rotted eggs and other horrible things I can't quite describe. While I'm certainly not going to taste this stuff, the smell of this and the taste of that thing seem oddly similar.

Does that mean something? Flint told me once that humans use snake venom to make cures for snake bites. Maybe it's like that, you need something from the monster to help? Or maybe I'm overthinking it. It could be a coincidence. How many different rotten smells can there be?

Whatever the reason, I'm certainly not putting it on my skin anymore. I go to toss it in the garbage but think better of it. If I throw it out in the house, I risk Flint or Scarlett seeing it when they take out the trash and asking questions. And now that I've opened it like this, the stink sort of hangs on the outside of the jar. I can never tell if a human nose is strong enough to catch something or not. They don't smell much, but sometimes they surprise you.

Thinking to play itself, I decide to deposit in the outside trash can, the ones the trucks take away. Flint said he wanted us to stay inside, but it's not like I'm going far. Just to the side of the house, so I'll still be inside the stone circle. That shouldn't be a problem.

After I quickly check the driveway to see that Scarlett and Flint are still out, I sneak around to toss the jar. I get halfway to the trashcan and immediately feel that this was a mistake. Not just because it's a lot colder out here than I anticipated, and I'm wearing shorts, either. There's this uncomfortable feeling, the moment I step outside, that I'm being watched. My eyes trace through the trees and I rapidly sniff at the wind but see no sign of anything out of the usual. Still, the feeling remains.

I hurry to the trashcan and toss it in, reaching in to pull up on one of the bags inside, making sure the jar falls to the bottom, safely out of sight. The deed done, I turn around and my heart jumps as if I was coming face to face with someone, but there's nothing there. That one might have just been my nerves, but all the same, I don't feel safe out here. I hurry back to the house and close the door, locking it behind me.

I instantly feel relieved at being safe, no longer feeling like something's watching me. That's quickly followed by embarrassment that I, a wolf, felt afraid of something in the woods. The fear I felt also seems to slip away, like waking up from a dream; it seems abstract and silly that I felt that way. That being said, I do double-check on the lock.

"I thought we weren't supposed to go outside?" Sophie asks from out of nowhere.

I jump and spin around, pressing my back to the door, "Don't. Do. That."

She sits up and stretches on the couch, "Sorry. Cat habit. You're a little high strung. Scarlett didn't completely destroy your balls, did she?"

"Oh. You've got jokes," I cross my arms.

"It wasn't that bad," she dismisses things she has no room to dismiss, "Besides, totally worth it."

"How was it worth it?" I demand.

"Well, I got to get eaten out, and you got the honor of doing so. Win-win, really," she gets up and walks over, "Not a bad job either, by the way."

"Except for the part where we got punished," I point out the obvious.

"Yeah, but it was a little slap on the wrist. Or between the legs. You know what I mean," she pats on the head, "And getting slapped on the pussy when you're all worked up can feel kind of good, in its own way."

I just stare her down.

"I assume getting slapped in the balls is basically the same thing," she makes the bold conclusion.

"I don't believe it is," I narrow my eyes.

"Ah, well, how am I supposed to know. Live and learn, you know?" she shrugs, pushing off all responsibility, "Now just what were you doing outside?"

She presses the sides of her hands to the window and leans her face against them like she's looking through binoculars. I sigh and drop my arms. It's hard to stay angry at her when I know how fruitless it will be to make her feel the slightest bit of guilt about it.

Not having a good excuse, I decide to gamble on using limited truth, "I was just throwing something out."

"In the outside garbage can?" she drops her hands and cranes her neck back to face me, "Why wouldn't you just throw it in the garbage inside. Seems like, you'd only do that if you had something to hide."

I maintain a stone face expression, telling her nothing. If she thinks there's nothing interesting here, and doesn't get a response from teasing me, she'll get bored and give up.

"Fine, don't tell me. It's not like I can't go check for myself," she smirks and unlocks the door, pulling it open.

I feel a pit in my stomach immediately, the feeling from outside coming rushing back. I panic and grab her hand, not considering how trying to stop her will only make her more curious. I'm just worried about anyone being outside right now.

"Wait! Sophie, no!" I lean back, putting my weight into pulling her arm.

She's already most of the way outside, though, and my grip isn't showing much of a chance of slowing her down. She eventually stops on her own, however, and looks back at me.

"What's got into you?" she laughs, "Nothing you've got in there can be that bad..."

She trails off and her ears perk up. Her pupils widen as she scans the woods. I can see the goosebumps rising on her arm, to match my own.

"On second thought..." her voice becomes dramatically less smug, "Maybe... maybe I'll just stay inside."

She retreats back, letting me pull her along until she's in. I drop her arm and quickly go to slam the door and lock it tight.

She keeps watching through the glass, "Something feels..."

"I know. I felt it too," I assure her.

"Do you think it's... that thing again?" she turns her face to me, but her eyes stay glued on the glass door.

"That would be my first guess. We both felt it, so it can't be nothing. Right? I don't know, really," I shrug, "Should we tell Scarlett and Flint?"

"And admit we were going outside?" she points out.

"Oh. Right," I sigh, the memory of the last rule-breaking still quite fresh.

"They might not even feel it," she says, "You know how humans are. Then they think we're crazy -and- they know we went outside."

"We could leave that part out. Maybe we just opened the window, got a sense of something off?" I suggest.

"Acorn, that is a positively feline way of thinking," she puts an arm around my shoulders, "Am I proud of you."

Somehow, her approval doesn't fill me with the same pride.

"Tell you what, we'll just wait till they come home, and gauge to see if they feel anything before we decide to worry them. Okay?" she asks.

Only moments from when I hesitantly agree with her plan, the front door opens. I can hear what is undoubtedly Scarlett's footsteps. Without another thought, I go rushing to the door, Sophie following quickly after.

"Mistressthere'sthisweirdfeelingoutintheyardandIthinksomething'swatchingthehouseandwe don'tknowwhatitisbutitmightbethatweirdthingthatattackedusagain!" I blurt out, less of a sentence and more of a long word; I completely and immediately forget that I agreed not to.

"Whoa! Where's the fire?" Scarlett says, pushing the door closed, hands full of groceries, "Just calm down and let me put this down."

"Smooth, Acorn," Sophie crosses her arms.

I can't really do anything but shrug. The impulse sort of took over all at once.

Scarlett proceeds to the kitchen with the both of us in tow. Sophie's attempt to portray herself as unconcerned with this isn't really fooling me.

With her hands free, Scarlett sits us down and has us explain exactly what happened and what has us so worked up. Well, we don't explain -exactly- what happened. I leave out anything about the garbage or stepping outside at all, substituting it with an ambiguous odd noise causing me to open the door and peer outside. Sophie plays along and backs me up. The important part, the ominous sense that something is watching us from the woods, is what's important.

"So... you -think- someone's watching the house?" Scarlett goes through again to clarify.

"Or some -thing-," I point out, to which Sophie nods.

"Right. So someone, or something, may nor may not be in the woods, watching us. But you haven't actually seen, heard, or smelled anything to confirm it? You -think- you heard a noise at first, but you admit that it may have been unrelated. And this feeling only happens when you're poking your head outside, but is absent when the door is closed?" Scarlett recaps, "Am I following correctly?"

"I mean, it sounds silly when you say it like that," Sophie rolls her eyes.

"We think it might be the shadow monster!" I blurt out.

"Shadow monster?" Scarlett tilts her head.

"Yes! The thing that grabbed us," I roll up my sleeve to point at the mostly gone bruise.

"I thought you said it was invisible?" Scarlett asks.

"Well, yes," I nod.

"Wouldn't that preclude it from even casting a shadow?" Scarlett lifts her hands in confusion.

"She's got you there," Sophie taps on her chin.

"The name isn't the point!" I shout.

"Okay," Scarlett runs her fingers over the sides of my head, "Okay, okay. Shh... I'll have Flint take a look around when he gets home. I'm sure it's nothing to worry over. Just relax."

Even though I know she's patronizing me, it's still comforting to feel like she's asserting control of the situation. It makes me feel assured and safe. I think Sophie feels that way too, but cats are hard to read, sometimes.

"Besides, any spooky weird stuff won't come past the circle of stones," Scarlett says, "Granny assured me.

I almost say something about granny's visits, but I think better of it. Granny seems to know a lot, and we haven't had anything like the day we were attacked since the stones showed up. Then again, we never had it before either. Still, her habit of being mysterious means I'm not any more certain that the stones help. She's been nothing but kind to me, but my ability to read her is even less than with Sophie.

Seemingly satisfied that she'd put out this fire, Scarlett returns to the kitchen to put the groceries away, among other household tasks. Feeling more comfortable being around her, I follow to help wherever I can. It turns out not a lot of help is needed, but I stay on hand, just the same.

"So... when do you think Flint will be home?" I ask.

She sighs, breaking into a laugh, and puts her palm to her face, "Oh my god, Acorn. Puppy. You need to calm down. Nothing is going to happen to any of us, and we are perfectly safe here. For all your concern about the supernatural, the only one doing any haunting here is you."

She rubs my head, "Why don't you go lie down or something? Try not to think about it."

A little whimper escapes me, and my ears lay flat. I think I even give her the puppy dog eyes without realizing it.

"This has got you real pent up, hasn't it? Maybe you're not getting enough exercise, cooped up in here," she studies me for a moment before she gets her devilish smile, "I think we can probably find a solution."

She walks past me and pulls me by the collar, "Come along puppy."

I don't so much make a decision to follow her, as much as the swaying of her hips back and forth as she walks hypnotizes me and I find myself drifting after her. She leads me upstairs, and I know that her smile was trouble, but I think I'm kind of past the point of worrying about that.

"Lose the clothes, sweetie," she says as we enter the bedroom, walking over to her dresser and rifling through a drawer.

One does not waste time keeping their clothes on when the red hooded goddess requests them to be gone. I quickly shimmy out of my pants and underwear and pull my shirt off. There used to be something of an uncomfortable shyness that came with being nude in front of Scarlett like this, even if that would never stop me. Now, though, I feel much more comfortable about it.

At least until I turn around and see Scarlett attaching that... apparatus to her hips. Seeing her naked but with a fake penis is probably one of the most viscerally confusing things my brain can see. I instinctively creep towards the door.

"Stay," she points a finger back at me, without looking.

I pathetic whimper escapes me, despite my best efforts. She steps over and takes my hand, pulling me back over towards the bed.

"After the chair incident, I got Sophie to tell me all about what you two were doing," she pats my head, "Says she milked quite a bit out of you. Says you got really into it."

I fail to continue a profuse blush, "You can't trust cats, you know."

"Maybe, but the chair doesn't lie," she smiles sweetly.

I just avert my eyes in embarrassment.

She leans in and gives me a soft kiss, "You did so good last time. I was so proud of you. And I know that makes you happy. We can argue over whether you'll like it - and you will, once you get used to it - but we both know you're going to do it. For me. So just be my good puppy and bend over the bed for me and present yourself."

Defeated by her kiss, I sigh and turn. I place my palms on the mattress, my rear sticking out, exposed. She is clearly very aware of my inability to say no to her.

"That's a good boy," she coos.

She picks up a bottle and pours a thin, oily, clear substance all over her strap-on. Her fingers stroke up and down it, slowly spreading it all over the phallus. I swallow hard at that image, my own cock responding.

"Don't worry, I've got it nice and slick for you," she says, wiping off her hands, "Just relax your body for me."

Her fingernails dance up the back of my ass cheeks and she settles on the soft flesh. Lightly, she squeezes them and pushes them apart, exposing my ass to her. I gasp a little when the went tip of her strap-on pokes my anus. I reflexively tense up, but remember last time, I take a deep breath and do my best to relax my muscles.

She's gentle with me but wastes no time. The head of the shaft pushes me open and slides into me. Another whimper escapes me, my lips physically unable to stop it. My fingers clench the sheets as I feel myself stretched open.

"That's it, just let it fill you," her fingernails lightly drag over my ass cheeks, "My puppy is such a good boy. So good at taking cock for me."

She pushes deeper and is soon further in than she had gone the first time. It hurts, given how wide it's stretching me, but the pain isn't so intense and uncomfortable as before. I can manage, even if it's a lot to manage.

"There we go, just a bit at a time, puppy," she runs her fingers up my back, "You're going to take the whole thing for me."

A moan is pushed out of me as her strap-on pushes into me. She starts sliding it back and forth, easing a little further each time. The feeling of the motion through my opening... isn't unpleasant. Strange, but not bad.

"Such cute little moans you have for me," she giggles, "Just a little more."

The last little bit is rougher. Maybe there was less lubrication at the base, but she pushes it in anyways. A sharp gasp flies from my lungs as she sheathes the whole length in my ass. I can feel her hips press snuggly against my rear. I can hardly believe she's fit that whole thing inside me.

"Oh my, you are taking it all," her hand reaches forward and runs through the back of my hair, "Was that so bad, puppy?"

I shake my head, out of breath, "N-no."

"I told you so," she giggles, "It's like your body is made for this."

She pulls back her hips, letting me feel every inch of her 'cock' slide through my opening, then pushes back in again, only to repeat it. The force of her pumping in and out again causes my hips to be pushed with it. I spread my legs a little to get a more stable position and lower my chest to the bed. This seems to please her, from the sounds of the little murmurs she makes while her hands run over my naked body.

"Starting to like this, puppy?" she leans forward and whispers near my ear, very slowly, "I'm -fucking- you."

My heart pounds at those words, but I don't manage any reply. I don't think she expects one.

Her breasts press to my back as she leans her weight into her thrusts, arms wrapping around my chest. As the position changes, I can feel that same pressure from when Sophie fingered me. That intense feeling pushing at what feels like the inside of the very base of my cock, down below my balls. My body responds nearly on its own and I push back, grinding my ass against her strap-on, trying to get more sensation, more pressure against that spot.

My ass starts to squeeze down on the strap-on, reflexively clenching down on the shaft. I nearly push it out of me at one point, entirely by accident. But Scarlett isn't about to let that happen, and thrusts harder against my resistance, only intensifying the sensation.

Whatever pain I was experiencing fades away into the background, along with the rest of the world. There's only the feeling of my Mistress holding me and forcing that long shaft into me, overwhelming every nerve in my lower body.

I don't know how long this goes on. It gets a little hazy, to say the least. I can feel a build-up, and a long period of intensifying pleasure, punctuated at the end by a surge of it.

Did I just cum? My head swims in a haze, and as it recedes, I'm not entirely sure. It felt sort of like it, but it was also different from what I'm used to. My legs wobble in place and I collapse forward. When I do, I can feel the moisture of what is absolutely my semen between me and the bed; though we've established that reaching full orgasm isn't necessary for that when it comes to this particular activity.