Watching you squirm in delight at my display as you lay there on your back like the good puppy you are, I cannot help but feel the seductive she-wolf in me grow hungry. Oh how you wait upon my command for release, to see the stars behind your eyelids once more as lightning flashes through you.
Grrr
Do you hear her, pup? The she-wolf you awaken within me? Eager to gobble up your sense of self as you delve deeper into the woods of my lair of pleasure. Ah, your howls and barks the mere opening act upon which this predator of seduction within me will savor.
“Puppy getting close isn’t she,” the siren syllables tempting pup to cum earlier than pup desires. Yet I already know the answer. Your eyes glaze, panting breathes labored, it will not be long despite your strength of will. Your flesh craves the release, straining against the chains of the edge you ride.
“We both know you are,” a smirk spreading along my lip to be wiped from memory by a slip of my tongue along my lips. A flicker of defiance flaming forth from your eyes only to sputter away like any solar flare once released from its source of life. Your simple response of a whine a flavor I never tire drinking into my soul.
“Pup may cum in 30... 29...,” emboldens my pup’s will to grip tighter upon the last shreds of the reins holding your nectar from dashing forth. Can you though? The utterance of numbers spiraling down bringing my seduction ever to the inevitable.
“... 19... 18... 17...,” drawn out like a match in slow motion along flint. The numerals themselves meaningless without the command you expect at their conclusion. Yet will I fire the pistol? Shall I abort the launch? To let you cum or force its ruin? Pup knows I am capable of both. The latter a cruel trick to prolong your cravings. To bring forth your own snarling animal from within to eat away at your conscious thought until my pup’s body acts before her mind comprehends.
At “... 11... 10... 9...,” I know pup is fully invested in her release, but will I grant such?
“...4... 3... 2... 1...”
______
How many rounds is it? Pup’s body a mush of released chemicals. Pup’s mind awash in a sea of the sublime. Owner’s lips moving yet muffled through haze, until “...good pup,” breaks through.
Pup is satisfied.
She is seen.
She is cherished.
Such is enough for Pup.
