Manhattan Kink: A Boxed Set

by Serafina Conti

  He was relentless, holding me tight in one arm, kissing me, finger-fucking me, minutes and minutes of it, till I was writhing and moaning, seconds from coming. . . .

  And he scooped me up suddenly, carried me to the bed, threw me down on my back, pried my legs apart with strong hands, and went down on me. His mouth, like his hand, was almost too much on my sensitive clit—he sucked and licked, pausing only for moments so he could dredge my slit with a firm tongue, and I wanted to beg him to be gentler, but I couldn’t speak, I could only mew loudly and try to squirm, though his arms around my thighs held me so tight I could scarcely move even that much.

  He was possessing me—Yes!—totally in charge of my body. I felt him willing me to come for him, and I submitted to his will, screaming, sensation detonating in me. Who’d have thought a mere kitten could feel this much? Who’d have thought I ever could?

  He climbed my body and kissed me, smelling and tasting of pussy. “What now, kitten?” he said, and I mewed softly, a melancholy sound.

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said, “kittens can’t talk. Okay, then, what about that tail?”

  I said “Meow,” a little alarmed. I’d never had an anal plug in me, and I was scared it would hurt, but the thought of ending this scene was unbearable. I gave him a weak smile.

  He went to the closet and came back with a little bottle of lubricant. He picked up the tail, which he’d left on the nightstand earlier.

  “On your hands and knees, there’s a good kitten,” he said, and I did as I’d been told, enjoying the feeling of submission as much as I feared the pain.

  He petted my back and said, “Relax. I promise it won’t hurt much.” I concentrated on relaxing my muscles, one at a time—arms, legs, back. I let my head droop.

  He petted my bottom and said, “I’m going to lubricate you. Let me know if it doesn’t feel good.”

  He paused—I didn’t look—and then his strong hand was spreading cool lubricant in my crack. One finger pressed lightly against my oh so private place, which no man had ever touched, and then probed into me, firmly but gently. It did feel good—the way my muscles pushed back, the slight friction. I sighed with the pleasure, and he pushed deeper and worked his finger around, stretching and widening me, my arousal growing with every movement.

  Then after a pause for more lubricant, he pressed a second finger in beside the first. For an instant it hurt, and I flinched and mewed with alarm. He paused, and when I mewed again and backed up a little into his fingers, he pressed on, and I realized that what I’d mistaken for pain was actually a new level of pleasure.

  He worked his two fingers in deep, and after he withdrew them, there was the cool of the metal plug, pressing, widening, hurting for an instant—I yowled in protest—and then it was in and the pain was gone, replaced by the pleasure of the wide bulb inside, its stem stretching me, and the delicious knowledge that I now had a kitten’s tail! I mewed with contentment and sat back on my bottom, making the plug move inside me and stimulate me more.

  He cleaned his hands with a towel and petted my hair, saying, “Excellent kitty!” I was deliciously full: I wished I could have him inside me, so I could know what a cock and the plug would feel like together. But I couldn’t make a move—he’d made it clear that he had his own agenda, and we’d follow it. I sat and enjoyed his hand on my head, wiggling my bottom a bit, and making my tail twitch with pleasure.

  4. Kitty Cocksucker

  He regarded me with open curiosity, wide-eyed and ingenuous. “You’re such a beautiful kitty,” he said, “with such lovely whiskers, such a pretty, pouty mouth, I can’t help thinking how much more beautiful you’d be if you were sucking my cock.”

  No lover had ever been this frank with me. Heat instantly flooded my face—I’m sure I turned beet red. I hadn’t had all that much oral sex in my life—my lovers had been too conservative, too boring. Few of them had gone down on me, and I hadn’t often felt motivated to go down on them. Well, this one wasn’t boring. I’d been eager to get a look at his cock—I’d gotten myself in trouble trying to undo his pants—but I hadn’t imagined giving him oral sex.

  Now suddenly there was nothing in the world I wanted to do more. I hadn’t even seen his cock—he still had his tie on, his suit jacket, his polished black leather shoes, he was all covered up and neat as a pin, and I was naked in front of him wearing cat ears and a butt plug—I didn’t know if he’d be long or short, fat or thin, circumcised or not, and I really didn’t care. All I knew was that I wanted, really needed, to suck this man’s cock, which right now was making a big bulge in his trousers.

  I mewed and tried to look plaintive. I have no idea how to look pouty—I thought his remark about my pouty mouth was probably a fiction.

  He unzipped his trousers, reached in, and pulled himself out. He was already erect, thick and circumcised. My mouth was watering. He gestured to me, and I crawled to the edge of the bed where he stood waiting, holding his cock in his right hand.

  I opened my mouth and leaned forward, meaning to take him in, but he said, “Uh-uh! I haven’t given you permission yet!” I stopped and waited for him.

  “Now do precisely as I tell you,” he said. “No more and no less. First meow to say hello, and give the tip a little kiss.”

  “Mew,” I said, rounded my lips, and kissed the head of his cock. It was warm and smooth, and I didn’t want to pull away.

  “That’s enough, kitty,” he said, and pushed me back.

  My pussy had to be dripping, I was so aroused. I looked up into his face and meowed. He watched me with interest.

  “Look at my cock,” he said. I looked, and he squeezed himself a little—a little clear drop of pre-cum oozed from his slit.

  “Do you want it?” he asked.

  I meowed.

  “You can lick it,” he said. “Just one lick, enough to get that drop.”

  I licked up the drop with the tip of my tongue—it was salty and a little pissy. It wasn’t enough; I wanted more. “Meow,” I said, trying to communicate my desire with that one syllable.

  “Patience, kitty,” he said. He lifted himself up, fingers curved around the shaft. I wished I could hold his cock in my hand, but I only had paws.

  “You may kiss the frenulum,” he said. “Just once.”

  That little string of skin under the head of him was lovely: I kissed it tenderly.

  “Uh-uh!” he said after a few seconds. “That’s enough. You’re quite the eager kitty, aren’t you?”

  I was. I meowed insistently.

  He backed away from the bed, took two steps to the leather chair, and sat, legs apart, still holding his cock in one hand. “How does kitty ask her owner for what she wants?” he said. “Come and ask.”

  I mewed impatiently, slid off the bed, and fell forward onto my hands and knees. I crawled to him and rubbed my cheek against his trouser leg, just below his knee. I made a noise in my throat that I hoped sounded like a purr, though I think it probably didn’t.

  “A good start,” he said. I crawled by his leg, rubbing my side, hips, and thigh against him. Back and forth I went, glancing when I could at his cock, which was getting more appetizing with every glance.

  “Mmm,” he said. “More.” I didn’t know what else to do. When would he let me suck his cock? I turned towards him, put my hands on his knee, and raised myself into a squat, looking into his eyes. I moved forward and let my knees fall to the floor—my open, wet pussy landed on his foot, and I rubbed myself against his shoe, the laces and bow. They were so hard it hurt, but I was desperate for sensation and didn’t care.

  “Rowwrrr,” I said, loud and demanding, a cat in heat.

  “Ohhh, that’s nice,” he said. He took my head in both hands and guided me to his crotch. I opened my mouth and let him slide me over him, becoming a warm wet sheath for his cock. I closed my lips around him and sucked, drawing my tongue and palate tight for him.

  “Yes, kitty,” he breathed, and moved my head up and down with his hands. I was kneeling
between his legs now, elbows out, resting hands and arms on his thighs, and he pulled my head down, making me take him deeper. It was scary and exciting, the way he was controlling me and using me as his toy.

  “Kitty’s got to learn to deep throat,” he said, and I said “Mmmm” around his cock in fright—I knew I’d throw up if he tried this—but if that was what he wanted, so what?

  He pulled out of me a little and said, “Stick out your tongue. Make two fists. Say ah and don’t swallow.”

  I did those things, and he pulled my head down more, slowly and gently, and soon, strangely, he was all the way in me, my lips in his pubic hair, and I hadn’t thrown up or even gotten queasy. It didn’t matter that his cock was forcing its way through the narrow opening to my throat, that he was hardly letting me breathe—I was in love with the way he was controlling me, with the bruising sensation, with the naughtiness of it.

  “Nngh,” I said, and pushed myself into him, smashing my nose flat against the fabric of his pants.

  He took a fistful of my hair and lifted my head up. “Rowrr!” I protested as I lost his cock.

  “You’re a natural,” he said with amazement in his voice, “a champion cocksucker.” He stood, took my head in his hands again, and thrust into me. I spluttered and almost lost it, but it seemed I had a talent for suppressing my gag reflex—I should have known this at twenty!—and I held still and let him slam me, harder and more excited by the second—it was scary how hard he was using me, but fuck this was hot, and I’d never felt so good.

  I put my arms around him, holding his buttocks, and pulled, wanting more, willing him to do to my mouth what he’d do to a pussy—and he did, his body moving in spasms now, instinct taking over, pulling fiercely, hair twined into his fingers, till he cried out and pushed deep, and his cum pumped into my mouth and throat—no man had ever come in my mouth, I’d never felt the sticky warmth of it oozing over my tongue.

  He thrust into me till there was nothing left of his orgasm, and, unwilling to stop, he thrust a few times more; but finally he pulled out and looked down into my face, something like astonishment in his eyes. I gazed into his strong, lean face and swallowed his cum. I didn’t love the fatty, salty flavor of it, but I thought I’d do this a thousand times if I could see that very look on his face each time.

  5. Bad Kitty

  I thought we were probably done. In my experience, men instantly lost interest after they’d come—and once they’d come, they stopped being very interesting to me. They usually didn’t manage to make me come, so I was glad to get rid of them and be left alone to masturbate, fantasizing about the kind of love I should have had.

  Rob raised me to my feet and kissed me. His mouth was passionate, though his cock was going soft. I touched it and took it in my hand as I kissed him, knowing now that this was the fuck I’d fantasized about all those times I’d masturbated alone.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

  “Meow,” I said.

  “Use words. You can be a kitten again later.”

  “I’m—”

  “Don’t tell me about the person I know,” he said, tucking himself away and zipping up his fly, “the department chair, my supervisor. Tell me about the secret you—the one you’ve never told anyone about.”

  “I’m a good cocksucker,” I whispered. “I never knew that till now.”

  “You are,” he said. “A secret kitty cocksucker slut. Do you mind if I call you a slut?”

  “What do you mean by slut?”

  “Avid for sex.”

  “I’m avid for sex with you.”

  “And I with you,” he said.

  “Then we’re both sluts,” I said.

  “Is that what you’re going to call me—a slut?”

  “I haven’t decided what to call you. Are you going to call me slut?”

  “I have to hear more from you about what you are.”

  “I’m a grown woman who right now is wearing a kitty cat butt plug for you, who let you put kitty ears on me and draw a kitten’s nose and whiskers on me. I’m here with you naked, though you’re still fully dressed. I just now swallowed a mouthful of your semen, and I want you to fuck me and do whatever you like with my body all night long. Because right now I’m turned on—I mean really turned on—for the first time in my life.”

  He touched my cheek and said, “You’ve got lovely whiskers, kitty.” He touched the end of my nose, where he’d drawn the kitty’s nose—traced my eyebrows and the line of my jaw with a fingertip.

  “Beautiful,” he said, put a hand on my neck, and backed me up till I hit the wall with a bump. His body crushed me to the rough brick, the smooth cool wool of his suit sensuous on my skin. He seized both my wrists, lifted them over my head, and held them there with hands strong as iron bands—and he kissed me roughly, tongue jabbing into me, cock hardening again and pressing against my thigh. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to, and, oh, I didn’t want to—not now, not ever.

  “Tie me up,” I said, turned on by the rings in the wall around us.

  “You said no bondage,” he said into my open mouth. “Why should you trust me?”

  “Look at me,” I said. “I’m naked. I just sucked you off. What’s left?”

  “You can’t imagine how naked you’ll feel tied up,” he said softly, “and how vulnerable.” He held both my wrists above my head with one hand, and finger-fucked me with the other. I squirmed and whined. “You have to trust me absolutely—that I won’t hurt you, or that if you get too scared I’ll let you loose. Do you trust me enough for this?”

  I tried to think about that, though it was hard with his finger inside me. He’d said the exchange of power between a submissive and a dominant was play power, like play money. He was right, up to a point. But when he tied me up, he’d have real power, at least potentially. I couldn’t just walk away—not till he decided to turn me loose. I was sure I’d be scared, and even more sure my fright would leave me even more aroused than I was right this second, with him pinching my clit.

  “Tie me up,” I said.

  He smiled his wolfish smile and said, “Your wish is my command.” He released me, went to the rack, and came back with a coil of rope and the shears. He cut off two ample lengths of rope and expertly tied them into snug bracelets around each wrist. He positioned me between two of the iron loops, facing the wall, and tied the loose ends of my bracelets to these, leaving a good bit of slack.

  He stepped back, gave me a predatory look, and said, “Very nice.”

  Already I was starting to understand what he’d meant about feeling vulnerable: I was immobilized, unable to run away, completely naked except for the ears, collar, and anal plug, which all together had the effect of making me feel more vulnerable rather than less.

  He cut two more lengths of rope and tied my ankles to two rings near the floor, forcing my legs apart. Now my balance was unstable, and I had to rely on the upper ropes to hold me upright. As he tightened these, flattening me against the rough wall, he said, “You can change your mind at any time. Tell me to release you, and I’ll do it instantly.”

  He waited for me to say something. This was insane, as I’d known all along. I’d told this man a few hours before that he was losing his job—and now I’d let him tie me up. If he flayed my skin right off, I’d have no one to blame but myself.

  A drop of moisture trickled down the inside of my left thigh. “Meow,” I said in a small and quavery voice.

  “Okay,” he said. He came up behind me, pressing me against the wall with his body—the rough brick stimulated my nipples. He put his left arm around my waist and wound the fingers of his right hand into my hair. He turned my head so my ear was next to his lips and whispered, “Do you know why I punished you before?”

  “Meow,” I said, fear and excitement building in me. I wiggled my bottom, enjoying the sensation of the wool against my skin.

  “Yes, because you bared your claws, but that’s only part of it,” he said, his breath hot in my ear. “It�
�s not enough, it’s not okay, for you to obey me freely, merely because you have the desire to obey. You must surrender freedom and surrender desire. You must obey me not because you want to, but because I want you to. Your only desire must be to fulfill my desires, your only pleasure my pleasure.”

  “Meow,” I breathed. What he was saying was so sexy!

  “You believe you have surrendered to me,” he continued, “but you haven’t yet done so, because you still wish to submit. I am going to punish you for your willfulness, and in doing so teach you true submission—that which is taken by force.”

  I couldn’t meow—I was hyperventilating. Another drop trickled down my thigh, but I can’t swear it wasn’t sweat.

  He extracted my butt plug tail—slowly—I savored the exquisite pleasure of my sphincter contracting around the tapered end of it. He set it aside, went to the rack again, and came back carrying a whip with an elegantly carved wooden handle and many black leather thongs. It looked dangerous, and I braced myself for stinging pain. But when he swung the whip it brushed my naked bottom like a warm breeze.

  I meowed again, more for effect than in response to the blow. He swung the whip the same way four more times, the blows some ten seconds apart, then paused before he struck a little harder. Now it was no longer a breeze, but more like a firm pat on my buttocks. Five of these, a pause, and then the third set of five stung a little, but still wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d expected at first.

  The fourth set of blows was painful but quite bearable, and now I noticed that I was starting to feel a slight euphoria, and a flush of pleasurable warmth that spread from my bottom all through my body. The fifth set of blows really stung, and I mewed with each one—but my euphoria grew, and I was starting to understand what this kind of punishment was about.