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Raised By Wolves update
🕑 Added 2020-04-23 17:00:03 +0000 UTC
When Kitty was domming her, Laura seemed unable to form a sentence without her mistress’s name in it.
“Betsy looks nice, Kitty.”
“Her nipples are hard, Kitty.”
“Should we take our clothes off, Kitty?”
“Do you want me to kiss her, Kitty? Do you want me to kiss her tits or her pussy, Kitty?”
“Can you see what we’re doing, Kitty? Do you need me to move for you to see better, Kitty?”
Kitty sat in the corner of the bedroom, watching everything, answering her questions with bated breath—like it turned her on more to have Laura under her thumb, asking her permission, than to actually see her do anything.
“Yes, Laura.”
“That’s just fine.”
“A little to the left.”
Betsy could see there was no overarching plan, no score book directing this performance, only the improvisation of Laura’s lust and Betsy’s submission. Despite that—maybe because of that—she followed Kitty’s blithe direction to the smallest detail.
It went on and on—Betsy letting Laura tease her, twist her, pluck her, taste her. Everything short of fucking her or breaking her skin. No penetration, that seemed to be the order of the day. Now and then, Kitty would call for a halt to the action. The tension would mount, becoming truly unbearable, until Kitty ordered them to go on. Then the pleasure would be exuberant, insane.
It made Betsy think that Kitty did have some skill—an intuitive grasp of how to get under the skin. It was no wonder she’d made Laura her slave. Laura, who didn’t know how to control herself, would surely fall in love with anyone who did.
Not that Kitty was interested. It was old news to her. Betsy was the shiny new toy; really, Kitty wanted to see Laura play with it. And so Laura offered one of her pert little breasts to Betsy. Betsy accepted, caressing the nipple into hardness. The flesh was firm and creamy to the touch and swelled wonderfully against Betsy’s hand.
While it heaved—transitioning from Laura’s control to aroused flesh that only wanted to please Betsy—Betsy’s free hand roved over Laura’s body. It stopped, of course, on Laura’s other breast. The softness of this one was even more fascinating after how taut the other breast had become. It quickly flooded with arousal, thrusting out with desperate firmness, Laura clearly aching for Betsy’s touch in every cell of her body.
It almost made Betsy laugh: Laura had the willfulness of a dom, but she was entirely dedicated to being subjugated and mastered. Talk about topping from the bottom—maybe there were three mistresses in the room and not just two.
Encouraged by Kitty, her own animal desire stoked and goaded, Laura moved her own hands over Betsy’s body. She molded them around Betsy’s hips and breasts, testing how deep her strong fingers could sink into the soft flesh. Her fingers ran down Betsy’s legs as if taking possession of them, fingernails leaving vivid yellow lines behind. They faded long before the pleasure did. Then Laura’s hands went behind Betsy, clutching her ass on both sides.
Kitty watched it all—Betsy could feel her gaze even when she couldn’t see her. And she rarely saw her. Laura, dangerous and savage and tightly wound and serpentine, demanded her attention. She played with Betsy like a cat with a ball, posing her to give Kitty a good view. By the time she moved on, Betsy’s pussy was aimed directly at Kitty’s fascinated eyes.
Betsy played along. She stroked Laura’s body, letting her fingers drift aimlessly around on the taut muscle, the supple curves. She looked for some break in Laura’s perfect devotion to Kitty, some pleasure she could call upon that Kitty wasn’t responsible for, but it seemed hopeless. Laura was too well-trained, or this role of hers aligned too well with her primal instincts. Even though she had everything that was called woman in her, and even though Betsy was adept at handling and seducing and being seduced by women, nothing she did to Laura seemed to compete with the satisfaction Laura got out of serving Kitty.
Kitty spoke: “Kiss her pussy, Laura. Let’s see how much she enjoys that.”
Laura moved too smoothly to be dutiful, her body enthused at obeying. She pressed herself against Betsy, fingers clawed deep into her buttocks, pulling them together with surprising strength. Laura’s mons pushed against Betsy’s, the contact deepening from the brush of their pubic hair to a kiss of the hidden flesh beneath their labias.
It was about as intimate as two women could be with each other, and Betsy was experienced enough that the only thing that could make it taboo was how Laura focused on Kitty through all of it, wanting to please her more than Betsy.
Kitty spoke again. “Looks like she didn’t enjoy it too much. Oh well—we can do better. Make her come, Laura.”
As if Kitty’s words were an instinctive urge Laura had to obey, she shifted to the side of Betsy’s body, every motion steeped in need. One arm reached around Betsy, coming down between her buttocks so the middle finger was poised at her anus. Her other hand reached down Betsy’s front, fingers fanned out on Betsy’s mound, the middle two along the lips of Betsy’s sex.
Betsy sucked in her breath, feeling the pressure of Laura’s ring finger and middle finger twitching against her slit, slowly curling to drive sensations into her electric cunt. Her fingers came up the length of Laura’s pussy and touched her clit. It stiffened against the pads of her joined fingers.
Betsy’s jaw dropped. Her stomach fluttered, the heft of her arousal dipping and pushing and going in all directions, desperate to have a penetration to be centered against. Every nerve in her body felt like it was under Laura’s control, muscles twitching, skin prickling. Laura’s fingertips felt very slick as they gathered Betsy’s juices on them. But they didn’t go into her. They only toyed with the lips of Betsy’s wet pussy, rolling and prodding, letting her stiff little clit slide around underneath their pressure.
Watching it all, Kitty smiled. Laura smiled back at her. Her eyes were glazing over; the deeply hypnotic thrall of doing exactly what her mistress wanted. Betsy had no such peace. Her eyes were wide; her nostrils flared. Everything Laura did to her was the sweetest torture imaginable. It hurt because it could feel so much better. Maddeningly, it was only pleasure. Not rapture.
Betsy’s hips surged with need, the knowledge that relief was so close. Her ass rolled as if it too were controlled by Kitty. Her body certainly wasn’t under her own control. Her mouth wouldn’t close. Her eyes fluttered, refusing to remain open. She tossed her head about, purple hair flailing with the wonderful suffering she felt inside.
Kitty saw her flush all over, heat rising in her, centering on her loins. Laura’s touch stoked the flame, little touches all over her body like throwing sips of gasoline down into the fire. Betsy writhed, not seeing, not hearing, only feeling the soft waves that washed over her cunt and brought her core up to a blue-hot inferno.
“Shit, shit, Laura, I’m… oh God, I’m commiinnggg!”
Arms spread out, face bursting with red, Betsy panted with the cadence of flicking electricity. Whatever control she kept over herself was washed away as the waves rose to their highest point. Her body went into convulsions. Laura let go of her clit, spreading her fingers and resting her hand against Betsy’s mound to feel the vibrations of her orgasm.
Betsy’s hips heaved, pushing outward, her pussy throbbing into Laura’s hand like the kick of a gun being fired. All while Betsy let out a single, broken scream—sobbing out her agony at being kept in such intense pleasure for so long.
Then she jerked, stepping forward, pushing against Laura hard enough to make her take a step back. Her arms wrapped around Laura’s body. She pulled Laura into a spasmodic embrace, giving her hands something to do as she shook and gasped with the orgasm working its way out of her. Laura ducked her head down to Betsy’s naked breasts, breaking Betsy’s trance with the relief of a fresh pain. Betsy emitted a cooing little cry as Laura bit down on her nipple.
The spell was broken after that, but so was Betsy, her mind in a total fog. She felt like she was sleeping standing up, only to be awaken by Laura’s warm lips, her greedy little kisses, nipping tastes of sweat from Betsy’s body.
Betsy became aware of the sight of Kitty in her chair, totally enthused with the sight of them, and yet a little craven by it. Like Laura was an animal she couldn’t quite control, this whole menage a trois more than she could deal with. A boy-king, a little girl who’d found her dad’s gun, more power than she knew what to do with. Yet she couldn’t let the fantasy go. She was an X-Man. She wouldn’t back down now, just because this passion was more than she’d bargained for, any more than Laura or Betsy would back out of it.
It was hard for Betsy to believe she wasn’t dreaming.
“Ready for more?” Kitty asked, projecting her misgivings onto Betsy. “Or have you had enough?” Asking the more experienced woman for permission to keep debauching her.
Betsy decided to see how much rope Kitty could take before she hung herself. “I might’ve had enough of you,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against Laura as if anointing the girl with her scent, two animals trading affection. “But not of her.”
Kitty frowned. “Then let’s give you much more of her. Get down on your hands and knees. Stick your ass out while I strap a dildo onto Laura.” Her eyebrows wagged. “You can have all you want of her, right in your ass.”
Laura let out a moan. “Yes… let me fuck her in the ass!”
Betsy half-grinned. It was hard not to be a little charmed by how openly excited Laura was. She certainly came out of her shell when sex was on the line. It was almost enough to make Betsy wonder what Logan would be like in the sack—letting go of his stoicism without fully giving into his berserker rage—but no. Scott was as far as she wanted to dip her toe into that mess of Jean and Emma and their harems.
“You’d like that, huh?” Betsy asked, brushing her lips across Laura’s face, smelling her hair. Laura basked in the affection. “You’d really fuck the hell out of my asshole for Kitty to watch?”
“Uh-huh.”
Betsy fixed Kitty with a stare. “You heard her, Kitty. Go get a strap-on for her.”
Moving like she had a stick up her ass—not sure how she was being challenged by Betsy submitting to getting sodomized, but knowing she was—Kitty went to open up the proper drawer and take out the long, fat dildo with its attached harness. A jar of Vaseline with it.
She handed the dildo to Laura, who eagerly held it at her crotch as Kitty strapped it to her, tightening it to her thighs and waist. Betsy prowled her way to the bed, looking at the process as she walked by. She enjoyed the sight of Laura with the dildo jutting obscenely in front of her, wagging and bobbing like a real cock with each breath. Then she bent her upper body to the bed, her feet on the ground, her ass offered up to Laura’s strap-on and Kitty’s viewing pleasure.
Kitty went to the other side of the bed. She reached across it to Betsy, taking her hands and pulling them over to her side so that Betsy was stretched out, unable to move away. Betsy didn’t look at her; she lay with her cheek against the bedspread. She didn’t look at Laura either, but she could hear the sluicing sound of Laura smearing Vaseline over the dildo.
Laura came up behind Betsy. Her hands moved down to the jutting roundness of Betsy’s ass, trickling down the curve from its most prominent swell to Betsy’s flanks. Her grip found the narrowness of Betsy’s hips and she held her tight. Aiming the strap-on between her cheeks. Betsy shivered—despite herself, the anticipation was hard to manage. Then Laura thrust the dildo into her ass. Betsy went so rigid that she convulsed.
“Aarrgghhh!”
She grimaced, her arms tensing as she instinctively tried to pull free of Kitty, but the girl was stronger than she looked. Laura held her even more firmly, not letting Betsy move an inch to relieve the pressure of the huge impalement forcing its way into her ass.
Laura didn’t go all the way in. Her eyes caught Kitty’s and her mistress gave her a nod. Laura paused, the strap-on halfway up Betsy’s ass, and she withdrew slowly. The feeling of penetration became something entirely different for Betsy. Her anal muscles were no longer resisting, but trying to speed up the crawling retreat from her rectum. Laura smiled, looking down at the shiny black dildo slurping its way out of Betsy’s straining asshole.
It was beautiful to watch just the look on Betsy’s face, not to mention Laura’s. Kitty shivered in delight, looking from one of them to the other. Her pussy was tingling. It was an effort not to hump the bed beneath her.
Laura’s fingers kneaded the pert hills of Betsy’s ass, as if relaxing her after the shock her body had taken with that first staggering penetration. But she didn’t go into her any easier the second time. She lurched sadistically into Betsy’s anus, pumping the dildo deep inside her battered anus.
Betsy cried out, jerking and pulling at Laura and Kitty’s grips on her in a fitful attempt to be free. But she couldn’t escape, a fact explicitly spelled out for her in how the dildo pushed deep inside of her. Betsy shrieked again, feeling her anal passage clutch around that profound invasion. Sympathetic spasms shot high into her belly. Her entire digestive tract felt like fair game for this rampaging marauder.
Betsy clamped her mouth shut. As arousing as she found being humiliated this way, she was too domineering to allow herself to let slip anymore of the anguish she felt. She didn’t know why she wasn’t fully comfortable as either top or bottom. Maybe Kwannon’s body was a submissive while Betsy’s mind was that of a dom. Or the other way around. She told herself that as much as she enjoyed this, she would enjoy paying Kitty back just as much. Perhaps even more.
Kitty loved it. Laura’s body heaving and undulating as she became her most predatory self, reaping pain from Betsy’s vulnerable body. Betsy herself, with her grimacing face, her trembling flesh, all distinction lost between pain and pleasure. Kitty bit her lower lip as if that could quell all the lascivious thoughts of what to do next. She didn’t think she could begin to compete with the eroticism of simply letting Laura have her animalistic way.
But what Laura wanted was to serve her, to be entwined with her desires, a part of the masterful control Kitty had already shown her. A small frown appeared on her lips as she sensed Kitty’s preoccupation. She froze, the dildo just shy of being hilted in Betsy’s ass. Her eyes questioned Kitty, waiting hungrily for her approval.
Kitty nearly hyperventilated with the feeling of power this gave her. It was like being rammed straight to orgasm without any flirting, any foreplay. She breathed harshly, trying to maintain her equilibrium. “Betsy, if you move, Laura will ruin your asshole. She’ll leave it permanently widened.”
Kitty let go of Betsy’s wrists. Betsy obediently remained still, even though staying poised with Laura’s cock up her ass was two very different agonies. The still raw pain of being sodomized and the pain of waiting, of being incomplete, of not being finished like she was so close to being…
At any rate, Kitty went to the drawer she’d taken the dildo from. This time she took out two silk scarves. Betsy knew immediately what they would be used for. Probably even Laura knew. They were almost prosaic after the extremes of control Kitty had enacted.
Flouncing back to the bed, Kitty knotted a scarf around both of Betsy’s wrists, tying the other ends to the corresponding bedposts so that Betsy was crucified, held in place as firmly as Kitty had.
“Sorry to deprive you of the personal touch,” Kitty smirked at Betsy, putting the scarves so taut Betsy’s shoulders grated in their sockets. “But I need my hands free if I want to play too. And I think Laura wants me to play. I certainly want to play with her.”
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