A Kept PetbyAgentNeptune©
He slid further inside of me, so far I could feel him gently bump my cervix. It was just this side of painful, still pleasurable, but definitely a reminder that he was a little big for traditional doggy style.
I angled my ass up higher, giving back a little more resistance for him to push against without him being able to hit quite so deeply. He slid out slowly before pumping his hips again. With each movement he made, I could feel the heat coiling deeper and deeper down into the core of me. It was like the time I rode the Big Shot ride atop the Stratosphere in Las Vegas. I could feel the hydraulic springs coiling tighter and tighter, about to eject me into the nighttime Vegas sky, but this time it was inside of me and I knew the orgasm was going to be fucking amazing.
Ooooh gods, yes, just a little more...
With every grind and pump into me, I could feel him almost hitting my deepest point, sliding past my g-spot, his testicles hitting my clit. All of it was pushing me toward that crest. I could hear him working furiously behind me, pushing against my ass as I pushed it back against him. He was hitting hard, making that meaty flesh slapping sound with every push into me. His breathing was heavy, and he held my hips steady. He was holding so tightly I knew I would find bruises in the shape of his fingertips on my hipbones later. Right now, I relished in the feel of his hands holding me in place while his cock slipped in and out at this frantic pace.
He lost his rhythm and pounded into me one more time, the force of which pushed my ass forward and down. Riding me all the way down to the bed, so I was lying flat on my stomach, my orgasm took me before I could feel him cum. My pussy tightened down on his cock, milking him for all he was worth, while I could feel the internal vibrations echoing and ricocheting through my body, shattering any concentration I had on his body. The orgasm rode me hard, harder than he had, and I realized I could hear myself panting harshly in the aftermath.
He rolled off me, onto his side, and pushed my hair out of my face. His brown eyes swept my face, verifying that it had felt as good to me as it had to him, and he must've been reassured. He smiled crookedly before rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.
While my body recovered and the adrenalin of the orgasm faded, I could feel the soreness beginning in my hips and lower back. I was going to be hurting later. I must've made some motion I wasn't aware of because he was rolling off the bad as I turned to look at him.
"Bath. I'm going to run one for you." And he was gone, padding on silent feet through the old house. I could barely hear him making his way downstairs to the only bathroom. The water turned on and I could almost feel the warmth, as though I'd already slipped into it.
Opening my eyes, I realized I didn't remember closing them and found myself in the bath. I must've passed out upstairs and hadn't felt him move me and put me in the tub. A little frightened at that realization, I looked around. He was watching me as he sat on the toilet seat next to the tub. He leaned over, washcloth in hand, "Lemme bathe you, sleeping beauty." He murmured. It wasn't a request so much as a statement of what he was going to do.
I watched his hands dip the cloth into the deliciously hot water and wring it out. He slid from the toilet seat to his knees, crawling his way to the side of the tub against which I leaned to gain access to my back. He pushed my shoulders forward, indicating he wanted me to sit up. Too weak to hold myself, I pulled my knees to my chest and leaned against them for support. He noticed what I'd done, but said nothing, just running the wash cloth in circles on my back.
Opening my eyes, I realized I'd again lost time. He was now in the large tub with me, and as I leaned back against his chest, he was moving the washcloth down the front of my body, soaping me up and rinsing me. I felt his cock stirring against my lower back, but was too exhausted to bring awareness to it. It was enough to feel it, as I was beginning to realize just how much it took out of me to slake both our carnal thirsts. At the rate we had been going, there wasn't going to be much left of me if I couldn't feed properly. It seemed the fainting was getting worse and I was out for longer periods of time with each episode.
Later in the night, I awoke to find myself feeling refreshed and reenergized. Looking around, I saw that I was back upstairs in the large four-poster bed. He was lying next to me, one arm thrown possessively across my body, large hand idly cupping my hip. As quietly as I could and with as little movement as was necessary, I slid out from under his arm and from the bed. Padding quietly down the stairs, I wandered toward the kitchen. Being only part succubus, I couldn't subsist on sex only if I couldn't properly feed, so I had to find other forms of nourishment. That I'd been passing out as much as I had and that the sex was weakening me and not energizing me meant either that I needed other foods than him or he was not a healthy choice. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I found out it was both.
Pulling the left over roast beef from the refrigerator, I carved a few slices off, placed them on a dinner roll with some butter and cheese, and savored the flavors. I didn't need condiments to make small meals delightful. I reveled in the heartiness of both the meat and the cheese, and enjoyed the added creaminess that the butter leant both. Leaning against the counter as I ate, I surveyed the kitchen. The house as a whole was ancient. Brick walls and wood floors gave it a feeling of warmth and stability, but the cavernous size of the rooms made it drafty. The kitchen was a huge room with large, restaurant-sized appliances. The counter against which I leaned was part of a large island, meant as a space to carve meats and present food, but could just as easily have served as a large kitchen table.
Turning, I rested my elbows on the top of the counter and finished off the last few bites of my sandwich. I didn't hear him come up behind so much as feel the air shift. Before I could turn, he had me pinned against the counter. "You were gone when I opened my eyes." He growled quietly in my ear.
"Eating. I had to eat," I sighed. Neither of us quite understood why his werewolf body and sex were not enough to sustain me or why it appeared to weaken me more than anything. Though again I wondered if it was because I was only half and not full succubus. We both knew I had to eat more human foods, and he kept the kitchen well stocked for this very reason, but he still seemed to find it both amusing and insulting.
"Are you finished?" The growl changed to a whisper and I could feel him subtly begin to grind himself against me. "Quite." I whispered back as I pushed my hips back to meet his gyrations. I widened my legs a bit, bracing myself against the counter in front of me. I leaned forward a bit to give him the view of my ass pushing back against him and my back leaning forward.
Without warning, he pulled back, spun me around to face him, and picking me up, placed me on the edge of the counter, legs spread to either side of him. "I want to watch you." The growl was back. He bent down slightly and captured one of my nipples in his mouth while his hand rolled and pinched the other. Shifting back and forth with fingers and mouth, he worked both mauve colored buds to standing peaks. Any cook would be so proud to have meringues so stiff and upturned. He lapped at them roughly, pulling and sucking, hardening them deliciously. Moving one of his hands down my belly, he began to part the curls surrounding my vagina to feel the wetness there growing.
He slid one finger between my nether lips, gathered wetness with it and circled it around my swollen clit. I could feel it harden and I knew he felt it jutting forward as my hips strained toward him. Trying to resist bucking against his hand, I leaned back on my hands, looking down the length of my own body. Rolling his eyes to look up at me, he moved his face down to meet his hand and began to work his tongue against my stiff bud.
Sighing deeply, I rolled my head back, relaxing into the motions of his tongue and fingers on my most sensitive spot. He slipped one finger fully inside of me, and curling it forward, brushed against my g-spot. Jerking, I looked down at him again. He peered through his impossibly long eyelashes with a mischievous smile before curling his finger again and rubbing my g-spot harder this time, not just brushing it. My hips began to dance of their own volition as he worked that spot inside of me with his finger curled. Slipping another finger inside of me, the feeling intensified. I thought for sure he would make me cum just like that, but as he felt me tighten around his fingers, he pulled them out and stopped.
"Not yet." Was all he said as he slid my hips farther back on the island counter and hopped up to join me. Pushing my knees apart and back toward my chest, he bent his head again to kiss my vagina intimately. His tongue slid between my lips and plundered deeply, almost reaching my g-spot. Being part canine certainly had its advantages, I thought. Coming up for a breath, he scooted his hips closer, the tip of his dick just barely brushing against my opening.
"Can you take it again?" He asked, brown eyes showing yellow around the irises.
"I can try." I said simply. I wanted to feel him slam his way into my body, despite the fact that I knew it could really hurt me this soon without more than a sandwich to offset the damage I took last time. "Do it." I sighed, "Hard."
He took me at my word. Without question or preamble, he lifted my hips, shifted his forward so he was just at my entrance, and forced himself inside of me in one hard push. I gasped deeply as I felt myself stretch to accommodate his size, but before I could catch my breath, he was pounding himself into me at a frenzied speed.
Each push in had me angling my hips up to meet his and create friction against my clit. Each slide out had me writing in anticipation for the next push. On and on he went, in and out, as the friction built. I could feel the intensity climbing higher and higher, until I couldn't tell where his pleasure began and my pain ended. I wanted to hold out until he came, because it was only then that I could try to feed on him. It was a race to let him get to the finish first so we could at least see if it would work...
His movement became erratic and I could feel him harden further inside of me. I knew he was so close, so close... One final push, I tightened around him, and it was enough. He came in a hot spray inside of me, his shields and control down, and I was in! I felt his mind open just enough for me to slip inside. I spread my awareness within his mind and sucked in all of his desire, all of his heat. It was a veritable feast of lust and horniness. He'd never been this open in all the time he'd kept me captive. He'd never allowed me in, never this far, never enough to really let me feed.
This was fucking glorious! As I sucked in all the heat, all the lust, I could feel my physical body bucking beneath him as his weight held me pinned. My orgasm was coming on and I had to get as much out of him as I could before it hit.
Pulling back from him mentally, I lost my control and came. The orgasm was so intense, I could feel the additional wetness from my ejaculation slipping between my ass cheeks, pooling on the island counter beneath us. He was quickly going limp inside of me and I could sense that he was losing consciousness. With one last force of will, I made him push off me and roll over. We were at least mentally connected enough for that effort. As he fell onto this back next to me, I felt him slip into unconsciousness while I took stock of my physical self.
Stretching my legs, I could feel the earlier soreness dissipating as his lust still ran through me. Running my hands along my body, I could no longer sense the bruises that had been forming over the last four or five days of captivity. Tentatively, I sat up, slightly disturbed by the cooling puddle beneath me; I shifted off the side of the counter and felt much stronger and lighter than I had in days. Glancing over at the fallen werewolf, I realized that the feeding I'd done had slipped him into a recovery coma. He'd be out for at least 6 hours, if not 12. He was strong, so it wouldn't be the normal 24 that followed a shift, and besides, this wasn't a shift.
Sauntering through the house I considered the ramifications of what just happened. He'd kept me for the better part of a week, fucking me into exhausted states and making me come before he did, which didn't allow me enough control to take advantage of his weakened state in orgasm. This was the reason I couldn't feed. It wasn't that I was half or that he was werewolf, it was that he was too strong and too good at making me come... If I could figure out a way to keep him from making me come first so often, I would be able to feed more regularly, which would mean I could fuck harder.
It could be a win-win for both of us. Despite us being of different species, at first thinking it was incompatible, I could see a future with love for the two of us. Call it Stockholm syndrome, as he'd captured me to taste a succubus, having heard we're irresistible. He'd been slightly disappointed at first, not realizing the addiction took time to grow. Now, five days in, he was a full-blown addict, though silently fighting it. As I said, he was strong, but those five days had done their work. I hadn't minded being held, as I'd always heard werewolf was a tasty meal, if one could be fully had. Well, this feeding had proven that. I would gladly take slim pickings for four or five more days to feast again as I just had.
Drawing myself a bath, I realized that I probably wouldn't have to find another man again. As long as this one kept food in the house and fucked me stupid, and as long as I could at least get a feeding of this caliber every few days, this could very well turn out to be the best twist of Cupid's magic ever.
Imagine, a werewolf captures a succubus to try to keep his own fuckpet, only for that fuckpet to turn on him and make him a kept dog. The gods certainly did have a fucked up sense of humor.