tagNonConsent/ReluctancePatrice and the Wolf

Patrice and the Wolf


Wulf College, nestled in the heart of the Midwest, was like many other private liberal arts colleges. It had great programs, lots of prestigious graduates, and opportunities galore upon graduation for its top students. It also was located in the middle of nowhere, miles from any major city, and infinitely quiet. Very little of import or excitement happened in the area except for the occasional run at the state title for the local high school sports teams. Patrice Shepherd was out to change all of that.

Journalism major, writer, and editor for the College newspaper, Patrice was tired of running the same old opinion pieces and the local community highlights. College was supposed to be exciting, with lots going on. Besides, how was she going to get noticed at Northwestern or Columbia if she didn't have any breakout stories? The plan started simply and grew, as these things will, faster than she thought and soon took on a life of its own.

The first article was rather simple and mostly harmless. A little write up about the rise in popularity of slash fiction and its prevalence in the histories of the browsers on the library computers and references to what may or may not be going on in the "quiet" study rooms. A few surreptitious visits to the lab before the article went to print and some older panties "hidden" in the folds of the upholstery ensured there was plenty of evidence to support her story. Of course, as editor, she had to protect the identity of her new investigative reporter so it was published under the nom de plume, Prudence Goodhope.

The response was immediate and better than she hoped. Letters to the paper actually started coming in and space was given over in the editorial for a special run of them. The missives, of course, ran the gamut from those supporting the right of people to read what they wanted, mild confessions of acts done in the library, and the predictable outcry from the conservatives about needing blocks on the library computers and full-time security patrols to prevent this outrageous desecration of a place of quiet contemplation and study. Patrice was almost beside herself with glee.

Prudence became a featured piece in each weekly edition, with either an opinion column or an investigative article. Sometimes they were actually real and mostly true, like the use of "pink slime" in the meatloaf served by the school dining hall. As Prudence's reputation grew and the response to her articles and presence on the newspaper's website increased as well, Patrice realized she had a campus celebrity as her alter ego with some growing influence and clout. People actually looked forward to the articles and followed through on some of the suggestions made. After writing an editorial about civic responsibility and helping care for the world around them, she actually saw people going out of their way to grab trash on the campus green to put it in the recycling bins, and realized it had been days since she had seen anyone just casually littering.

Of course, realizing this newfound power gave Patrice a new idea and aspect to her plan. Why stop at just helping open people's eyes to what was going on around them? Her original intent was to follow in the steps of William Randolph Hearst and not just report the news, but make the news. To add a little bit of excitement to campus and stir things up a bit. It was time to really start to stir things up, and right some wrongs along the way.

Her first target was Dr. Fullman, the English professor. She had disliked him from the first day of British Lit and just knew he had been constantly ogling her and the other female students during every class. He was blunt, old, opinionated, and worst of all, had the audacity to actually give her a B. The story would be Prudence's finest to date, but required some careful planning and stealthy "investigations". Some late night visits to the English department after hours, a few carefully named computer folders, and a protected internet browser history were all she needed.

"Child Pornography in the English Wing", the headline read. When the article went live the response was impressive. The article never named Dr. Fullman directly, but there were enough inferences that people who knew him could figure out the identity. The school administrators acted swiftly, as she knew they would. She was there with her trusty camera to snap pictures as campus security went to his office, grabbed his computer and a box of stuff from his desk, and escorted him off campus to be placed on Administrative Leave pending a full investigation. She gleefully read the reports as they found several files of pictures and videos of children, an active browser history to sites like NAMBLA.org, a travel brochure to Bangkok and, the coup de grâce, several pictures of a little girl in various states of undress. No one even noticed how the eyes were the same shade and shape as those of the campus newspaper editor.

Emboldened by the success of her attack on Dr. Fullman, she began to turn her plan towards not just her personal enemies, but the enemies of higher education everywhere. Eta Omicron Epsilon sorority was first. It didn't matter they had rejected her as a pledge when she was a freshman. She was glad they had now after seeing how they promoted the party lifestyle and practically threw themselves into the arms of any halfway attractive male on campus and being the sorority of choice for most of the female athletes and cheerleaders. All it took was some reporting of hazing rituals, a few spiked drinks causing trips to the hospital for a stomach pump, and some cellphone pics of the sorority president making out with a freshman pledge and Prudence's story was enough to get them put on probation with a complete ban on alcohol and parties. Patrice was especially glad she had gone blonde for a semester that first year and had been a bit of a shutterbug even then.

College athletics was next in her sights. They kept getting money that could go to academic programs; overpaid coaches, expensive workout facilities, lavish travel and food expenses for the athletes. Her target of choice was the Men's Swimming and Diving team in the persona of their junior Captain, Siegfried Thorson. Sig was the epitome of the college athlete: bright, great GPA, ambitious, determined, and the body of the God his surname and heritage came with. He was lean, muscular, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and quick with a joke and a smile. He also had a dark side he kept from all but the closest friends. A dark side she knew all too well because she had introduced him to it and explored it with him while they dated last year.

You wouldn't know it to look at her, with her Midwestern looks and demure sense of style, but Patrice was a kinkster. More than that, she was very familiar with many aspects of BDSM and enjoyed most of them. She had experimented before Sig and when their relationship started getting serious, she introduced him to some of the things she enjoyed. From there, they began exploring together and trying out new and more things. He fell into a dom role easily and was a passable sadist, if a little too cautious sometimes. She had been tied, wrapped, spanked, flogged, caned and many other delicious things. There were days after a weekend with Sig she had been unable to sit (except as a reminder of the sting of the implements) and had to wear long shorts and skirts to hide the bruises that served as her marks of honor.

She especially remembered one glorious night where he had shackled her to the wall and worked her over. He used chains to attach her ankles to a spreader bar and her hands were pulled above her until she was nearly suspended. As he blindfolded her he teased with a harsh whisper, slowly telling her all the things he was could do to her until her panties were soaked with her juices.

He left her in silence, her mind rushing with thoughts of what was coming. Then she felt the bite of a cold metal edge as he slowly slid it along her shoulders, felt the quick snap and release of pressure as he sliced through first one and then the other bra strap with what had to be a knife. He moveed it gently back and forth letting her feel the flat, the point and the edge for what seemed like an eternity until with a gentle sawing motion she felt her breasts spill free as he severed the strap across her back.

She felt his hands on her, massaging the marks in her fair skin left by the undergarment then moving around to caress and tease her. He caressed, tickled, kneaded and pinched every inch of her breasts in just the way he knew would arouse and torment her. Finally, her nipples hard and protruding, she felt a last pinch and the warm hands were gone. Seconds later she gasped as she felt the cold steel of the knife as it was drawn across and around her areola. It traced the curve of her waist and hips and she felt her panties loosen and fall as he cut through the last of her clothing.

Casting the knife aside, he started with his hands, gently working her buttocks and thighs with ever more powerful smacks interspersed with some light soothing rubs and the gentle tease of a finger along her labia or diddling her clitoris. As the warmth became constant and spread across her cheeks and thighs, he stopped and she felt a narrow band wrapped around her waist and each thigh causing her to shudder in anticipation. She heard a familiar buzz then nearly came when she felt the vibrator settle against her clit and upper labia.

"Oh gawd," she thought. "He's using the Hitachi!"

As the vibrations sent pulses of pleasure into her, she knew it wouldn't be long for her to fall into the throes of orgasm. As always, he read her mind and body with expert ease.

"Don't you dare cum until I tell you to, slut," he growled next to her ear.

He followed this with a sharp crack to her thighs from what felt like her 4-inch paddle. The heavy wood thudded again and again against her buttocks and legs, occasionally sliding between to tease its edge along her engorged labia before striking the insides of her thighs sharply. Teasing her more and more until the pain and the pleasure were nearly unbearable.

"Please, sir, please...may I cum?" she whimpered, her body nearly twitching with the strain of holding back the impending waves.

"I don't think so. I am not nearly done with you. And, if you cum without permission you know your ass is mine."

The thought alone was almost enough to send over the edge. She nodded her head in acceptance knowing that if she failed she would be invaded by a plug, his cock or both in succession. As if knowing how much the thought was turning her on, she felt the vibrations increase as he adjusted the speed of the Hitachi. As his fingers began running along her lips, gently playing with the folds and the entrance to her soaked and dripping pussy she knew it was a battle she could not win.

"Please, sir, I am begging you. Please?" she plead through clenched teeth and she knew it was too late as she couldn't even hear his answer over the rush of her delayed orgasm. She collapsed against the wall, her body supported by the shackles around her wrists as she moaned and gasped. Her body lit up with pleasure and she felt her pussy spasming around the finger still buried in her quim. As it subsided, she knew it was going to be a powerful night.

True to his word, she felt his fingers on her anus spreading it with lubrication for the invader. She felt the cool silicone of the plug as it was inserted, stretching her until she was completely filled and then locking in as she closed around the base. She moaned softly as she adjusted to the sensation of being filled completely.

"I warned you what would happen, my little slut, and now please work a little harder to contain yourself," he warned with a sharp slap across her ass.

He began once more with the paddling, every causing the plug to shift in her ass sending sensations of pleasure along every nerve ending chasing the pain from the impact. She concentrated on the sensations, feeling each blow as it spread from a powerful thud to her ass or thighs, the warm tingle as the heat spread out from the point of impact and then the tingle of pleasure from her ass and throbbing vibrations on her clit and pussy.

He kept it up the unpredictable rhythm, forcing her body to react to his will. He switched from the paddle to a nice heavy flogger, which deliciously spread the impact across her entire ass and occasionally the now dripping lips of her engorged vulva. His whims were unpredictable as well, sometimes allowing her to cum as she asked other times making her wait until she thought she thought she would succumb again without his permission. The blows continued to rain across her back, ass and thighs until she was riding the waves of pleasure and pain like a surfer on the face of the ultimate tube.

Just as she felt she would no longer be able to stand, the pressure on her wrists let up and she felt his hands supporting her as she was lowered to the ground. He removed the harness next; her clitoris still feeling phantom pulses for a few moments after the Hitachi was removed. The shackles were released from her ankles as well, but she knew it was not yet over. He quickly positioned her on her knees and elbows, plugged ass to the sky. Not bothering to remove the anal invader she felt his hands on her hips and the full head of his firm cock press against the entrance to her waiting cunt. With one firm thrust she felt him bury himself to the hilt, his pubic bone crashing into the plug and his balls lightly slapping against her cum-soaked thighs. He kept one hand pressed to the base of her spine and the other moved up to entwine itself into her hair as he pulled her back and she felt his mouth hungrily searching for hers as he continued to see saw back and forth in her grasping sex.

"Oh. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Don't. Stop. Fuck. Ing. Me! Yeeeaauuugghhhh!" She screamed as the next orgasm overtook her, her staccato sentences coming in the brief space between this thrusts slamming into her.

Her twat spasmed around him in the most powerful orgasm yet; gripping and pulling against his thrusts, increasing the friction and sensations, extending and layering in a rush of stomach clenching pleasure. The latest had barely subsided when the next began and it wasn't long before his tempo slowed and he moved his hands to her shoulders using them for leverage to pull her back onto him, his breathing heavy and a deep guttural moan accompanying each thrust. With a final lunge and incoherent shout, he buried himself deep in her sex, his cock erupting as he released himself inside her still twitching cunt. He held her there for a few moments before they both collapsed to the floor and he gently slid her blindfold off.

Recalling how great it was fucking him, she almost regretted what she was about to do to him. The feeling passed quickly when she remembered how he had dumped her and added insult to injury by dating that slut from the sorority. She had plenty of pictures and video evidence to support her story and since she still had his Fetlife password. It was just a matter of picking some of the most graphic ones, a few tweaks to his profile, and loading some info to the page and the article practically wrote itself.

"The Tarnish on the Golden Boy" the article read. Copies flew off the shelves as the expose was published. The Athletic Director launched an investigation and with all the breadcrumbs in the article it was less than a day before Sig was suspended from the swim team pending an investigation for allegations of violations of the ethics and role model clause of the college's athletic teams. They also launched a full scale investigation of the rest of the team to determine if it had been something the entire team participated in. Patrice was almost giddy at the response and felt an evil glee at the sanctions brought against him.

A few weeks after the article launched the investigation into swimming and peripherally all the other athletic programs at the school, things had started to calm down a bit. The entire campus was getting ready for a small break and the students were preparing for the annual "Beauty and the Beast" masquerade ball. It was tradition that the effeminate people would show up in evening wear with a traditional eye mask while the dominate and masculine would arrive in some sort of animal mask, with most choosing the wolf for obvious reasons.

As much as she loved her work, Patrice was actually looking forward to being able to just let her hair down and show up somewhat anonymously. By rule, there were no couples allowed at the ball. Everyone had to arrive separately, although serious couples always made sure they could identify their dates by their mask. It was a chance for most to just show up and dance with a variety of partners and forget the world outside for a bit. Patrice had a great dress picked out in a gorgeous scarlet that even featured a mock hood to mimic Red Riding Hood. She thought it appropriate since she had helped take out so many wolves this semester.

The night started off well with many wolves offering to dance with her and the drink was flowing freely. She was really relaxing and getting into the music on the floor when an incredibly shaped wolf asked her to dance. She could feel his rock solid muscles beneath his jacket and the breadth of his shoulders was impressive. They danced to a club number and then he offered to fetch her another drink as the next song was queued up. Feeling a bit thirsty after the quick pace of the song, she gratefully accepted.

He returned soon after with two drinks and they gulped them down before beginning to dance to the ballad that soon began to play. As they were dancing, she let him lead and he was a nearly effortless dancer. They began to move and twirl around the other couples as the dance went on and she got a little brave and more comfortable with his lead. Another ballad followed, and being slower, he pulled her in close for the song. She rested against his shoulder as they sashayed around the dance floor and she realized she was suddenly very tired. She turned to mention to him that they may want to step out to get some air when everything went black.

Patrice woke up with a dull ache in her head and feeling like she had eaten a bale of cotton. She ran her tongue across the roof of her mouth, testing the feel of sandpaper to make sure it wasn't really there. She reached up to rub her eyes as she was blinking them open and realized with a start that they weren't responding. Groggily she lifted her head and saw in the dim light that her hands were secured at the wrist to whatever she was laying on. Panicking, she tried to lift herself off and realized she was secured not just by her wrist, but by her ankles and straps across her body as well. She struggled uselessly for a few moments until she was out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat. It was only then she realized she was completely naked.

"AAAAUGH! Help! Help! Where the fuck am I? Can anybody hear me?" she screamed.

A low chuckle greeted her. "Well, Patrice...or should I call you Prudence? You are quite out of range of any help and I know you aren't getting out of those restraints until I want you to be out of them," a deep male voice greeted her.

"You bastard, you won't get away with this! I know people, and I will get away!"

He laughed again, deep and low. To her growing horror, she heard others slowly join in. Some high, some low, a few even sounded like women. She realized she wasn't dealing with just one person, but many. More than she could count by voice. She barely stifled a scream as terror at her predicament settled in. She wildly scanned the room trying to make out the shapes in the shadows, whipping her head back and forth until she was dizzy.

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