No Safe Word

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Big Tits

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.


No Safe Word

“Say it.”

Morgan squirmed, the bat’s head thrown back on the spanking bench, legs spread and pushed up onto the very tips of her toes. Lines of strain coursing through with pain stood out in her legs, slim and yet defined with muscle in such a position, and the yellow ruff of fur around her neck was soaked with sweat as she squealed and moaned, whimpering for her owner and lover, Cecilia, who stood over her with a brutal spanking paddle in paw. It was not the harshest one in her collection but she liked to work her submissive pet up slowly, teasing her, always taking her care into account as she brought her to a high.

But that was not the name of the game — it wasn’t the name of the game at all, in fact. The dominant sabre-toothed tiger’s muzzle hung slack, this time, for breath, sucking in needy gasps by her fearsome teeth. She turned over the paddle in her paws, studded with metal, and wondered that her submissive sweetheart was able to withstand so much. Not that, of course, her black coat of fur was at all something to be scoffed at as she stretched out over the bench, a braid in her hair connected to her small tail, forcing her head up and back in further testament to her position, the control she allowed the feline to have over her.

In luxurious lingerie (an embroidered corset, suspenders, stockings and matching underwear, of course), the sabre-tooth’s fur stood out nicely in shades of light brown and tan and cream, like a dessert that one could not help but slurp up lewdly. In all honesty, many had in the past but none had challenged her to scrunch her hair back into a tight, pinning, dominant bun before quite like the little bat Morgan did.

Morgan’s toes curled and Cecilia growled as she struck her again, casting the paddle aside as it clattered off into the depths of the bedroom, striking the wall beneath the windowsill. Enough of that! Whatever she did, Morgan only seemed to want more, whimpering and muttering, words slipping over one another as, frustrated, Cecilia heated up the pot of wax from the bedside table — something that the cat had been intending to save for a special occasion but that Morgan seemed driven to push her to.

“Harder… More… Hurt…”

She was hurt? The sabre-tooth’s lips curved in a lightly wicked smile, taking pleasure even in what may have otherwise have worried her if she did not know that Morgan loved it all so much. Yes, yes… That was good. Let her bend, let her break, let her snap and scream for her. She’d be pushed that far, yes, she would make it so. The dominant feline smirked and chuckled throatily, her cruel amusement rasping up despite all the love and care she had for her charge too, the wax tipping, swirling, the flame from the burner beneath a little overpowered for the bedroom and sensuality. For wax play, however, as she took the dish carefully between her nails, filed dikmen escort to give the illusion of claws, it was just right.

Morgan hissed through her teeth, throat bared and vulnerable as hot wax splattered, messily marking her coat. The crimson wax pooled like blood for a moment before striving to harden again, cooling as rapidly as it had been heated. It may have had a lower melting point than the ones she had been used to in the past but her body was not hot enough with her fur to keep it melted, twisting and squirming, drops of blisteringly hot wax even splashing over her pussy lips in a searing, erotic rise of pain unlike anything else.

“Hurt me,” she whimpered, twisting back and forth with a luxurious roll of her hips to the extent that her bondage allowed, the bat laid out like an offering. “I don’t want to say it… Oooh…”

She moaned, toes curling delectably, although they should have been scrunching in pain as the hot wax dripped onto her buttocks. For all intents and purposes, it was not the kind that was supposed to titillate but the kind that was supposed to burn for visual pleasure — and yet it was the only type that got a rise out of Morgan at all. Muscles bunching in barely restrained tension, Morgan moaned out long and low, Cecilia’s ‘claws’ sinking into her buttocks, biting through her skin to a light scratch to stand out in stark contrast to the burning snap of more and more wax painting her thighs and arse.

The sabre-tooth smirked, licking her lips. Yes… Oh, yes, she had her now.

And yet…not quite.

“More…” Morgan whimpered, eyes alight and lips parted in a breathy smile, trembling with desire. “I… I can’t say it, won’t say it… Won’t say my safe word… Hurt me…” She shuddered into a gasp, breasts rolling as she moaned. “Hurt me more…”

Cecilia frowned, her hackles up. Was the little thing trying to get her claws out? To challenge her? Didn’t she know better than that by now? She loved Morgan dearly…but she did so rile her up too!

“How much will it take to break you down, my little bat?” She crooned, voice dripping with lust. “There’s so much I can do to you… And, if you use your safe word, after all this…I’m not even going to let you use it. That means nothing for you…”

It was harsher than she’d ever been and further than she’d ever gone but the shiver that ran through Morgan as she unbound her, only to flip her over onto her back on a horizontal X-frame, was more than enough to tell her that she was on the right track and then some. Her hair was unbound leaving the braid to swing free for later, her tits arched up and on display as her mistress grinned and bared her teeth, feral and wild in the heat of a moment that her submissive, as tricksy and delightful as she was, had pushed her to.

“Now, pet, there’s nothing for you but what’s in this room,” she hissed, toying with a pinwheel, passing the glittering metal back and forth between her paws. “And I’m here, here for you. Moan all you like, scream all you like… You asked for it.”

And that was true. Yet it didn’t mean that the bat did not squeal as the pinwheel danced across her breasts, teasing her areolas, emek escort nipples perking up for the bite of the pricking pins that had been sharpened if only for the additional effect they could provide. No, no — a standard one would never be enough for the slutty bat who craved pain and submission above all else, although she could only be thankful, so very thankful, that she had a mistress who was willing to deliver all that and so much more to her too, over and over again.

Morgan wailed and whimpered, not even sure what sounds were coming from her lips as the lightest drops of blood stained her tits, marked from those fine, delightful scratches. And yet her arousal grew and grew, an unstoppable force, hips lifting from the bondage frame as she tried to strain with her arms, only to push herself all the more fiercely into that wicked pinwheel. Cecilia, however, was only warming up and giggled wickedly as she swapped for a set of wooden clothes pegs; they were innocuous enough but proved to be exceptionally evil as the first snapped, without any sense of care or finesse, onto her submissive pet’s hard nipple.

The scream was beautiful. Cecilia would hang on to that scream as she clamped Morgan’s other nipple too, drawing a flush of hot, burning pain through the bat. It wasn’t her thing but just how the bat squirmed, oh… There was nothing quite like that, the way that her skin pulled over muscle, striving for release. Her pussy gleamed between her spread thighs and Cecilia callously dipped her fingers into the folds of the slut’s pussy, sliding them back and forth, though it was far more delectable still to strike with the leather flap of a whip.

It was in her paw and she laughed as she cracked Morgan’s pussy as hard as she could with the whip, pussy-juice splattering everywhere. The burning heat from the wax still searing her fur, leaving lingering pain behind to bite and snarl, strung taut, the bat caught between pushing into one sordid sensation or the other as she whined and gasped, eyes bulging. Yet her mistress was over her, beating her thighs, her tits, her pussy — everything that she could reach with erotic sensuality — not even Morgan’s clit escaping such abuse and the frenzy of a dom who had, finally, unleashed her true self in the twist of power.

“You will break!” She hissed, eyes flashing, pushing her to the edge of passion. “You will take this!”

It was hardly as if the bat had any choice in the matter but it was the mere strike of the crop on her bare, woefully exposed pussy that sent her over the edge, howling and thrashing. More, of course, followed swiftly and Morgan lost sense of time and place, twisting and whimpering, breathily drifting in a sense of sub-space from which even she doubted she could rise up again from. There was only the world of pain that her mistress delivered, the clothes-pins dotted around her breasts to make them bulge up on display, cruelly biting and yet giving her every last bit of pain that her kinky heart had so craved from the beginning.

Cecilia smirked, running her fingers around the clothes-pins, forcing them to tug and dance painfully.

“Think you can take it, pet?” She mocked, fingers eryaman escort brushing through her fur, the fresh welts. “Or are you now wishing you had your safe word back again?”

But Morgan was not one to break so easily and she bit back the pain as it lanced through her, staunch and stoic in the face of passion that had not been hers for oh… Oh, it must have been too long to see her in such a state. And hot wax and a pinwheel and clothes-pins and even a whip were not going to be enough to sate her as she whined and panted, begging for more, a constant stream of words flowing and babbling from her lips as she begged her mistress for it all.

More, more… More pain, more hurt… She needed it so badly. And Cecilia was the only one, the only one in her life, that had ever been able to deliver it to her just so. Maybe that was why she loved her as much as she did.

Orgasm contrasted sweetly with the ricochet of pain and her abused breasts fell under more abuse still as Cecilia danced the lash of a flogger over there. It didn’t matter where she hit, as long as the tails did not snake around to Morgan’s more sensitive throat and collarbones, where the bone and vital structures lay too close to the surface. Pressing her thighs together, Cecilia growled, yet her sense of pleasure was to be entirely derived from the sensuality of pain, the rawness of it all that she could play out, all for their mutual pleasure — even if that seemed counter-productive when it came to the main implements of delivering pain and her disposal.

Neither could have said for just how long that part of the session lasted, Morgan quivering and whimpering on the bondage frame as Cecilia stood imperiously over her, a wicked cane in her paws that had brought her to her umpteenth orgasm. Spinning it, she chuckled and shook her head, admiring the welts and pricks of blood, her nails trailing down Morgan’s body as if the bat was merely there for her amusement. In some ways, of course, she always would be.

“Do you give in, my sweet pet?” She murmured, although her eyes danced with the lust of the chase. “Or is there another lick I may taunt you with… Something to really bring out your screams?”

The only answer, of course, that Morgan could give her came in a moan, the words whispering through as more of a meaning than anything that had been pronounced clearly. Her back arched, trembling beautifully, wings straining at her bonds to no avail. But that was just how the bat wanted it to be, body burning through with pain that was all she wanted, all she desired in spades and spades all over again.


And all Cecilia could do, really, was smirk lightly, brushing her hair behind her shoulders and pushing her shoulder blades back. Wasn’t she such a sweetheart?

“Another round, pet? Oh, you do so test my endurance!”

But, at the end of the day, it was the bat who would concede in submission, bowing her head as her body ached with so much pain that her soul simply couldn’t bear it anymore. Her pussy would be spent in multiple orgasms and she would still beg for more, even if her mind knew that, feasibly, she could take none of it further.

Yet that was just what her mistress was for, the one to temper and tame, to use and abuse, her body there for Cecilia’s pleasure. Morgan’s lips parted in a breathy smile and she arched her back, pushing her clothes-pinned tits up for the sabre-toothed feline’s delight.

“Yes, mistress!”

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