"Hello, wolfie,” she said, “want to have a little fun tonight?"
"Well, I'm not feeling very well,” I admitted, “I just thought you were lost."
"Oh no,” she replied, “you're not feeling well? Maybe I could help you feel better."
I could see little ringlets of auburn hair coming out from under the hooded sweater and over her shoulders.
"Are you a nurse?” I asked.
She put her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt and lowered it just a little so that I could see her belly button. There, pierced into her pale skin, was a small beet-colored cross.
"See? Red Cross. You've heard of them, haven't you?"
"Yes, they do good work."
She giggled.
"Well, I guess you could call me their traveling aide."
The sedative was starting to take effect and I was getting a bit woozy.
"That's very nice of you, Miss ... uh ... Miss..."
"Just call me Red,” she replied.
"Nice to meet you, Red,” I told her, “I'm Thomas."
"Thomas Wolf. Nice name."
"No relation to the writer,” I inserted.
She looked puzzled.
"What writer?” she asked.
I smiled and just shook my head. The man must have had twenty books in print and she had never heard of him.
"Never mind."
Her face cleared and she smiled again.
"So? Would you like for me to help you get home?"
I thought about it, but didn't want to start any talk in the forest. You know how rumors get started.
"That's very kind of you,” I told her, “but I wouldn't want to be a burden."
"No burden,” she said, “I was just hanging out here by the tree, nothing to do. I may even have something in my basket that would make you feel better."
I glanced down at the basket at her feet. My hope was that she had some hot homemade chicken noodle soup in there.
"Well, thank you, Red,” I accepted, “that would be very kind of you. I just live around this bend in the brick house."
"Brick house? I thought wolves lived in caves and logs and stuff like that."
"Well, I did until this kind little pig and his two brothers sold the house to me so they could buy a condo in Florida."
"That wouldn't be the Three Little Pigs, would it?"
"Yes. Have you heard of them?"
"Yeah, that middle brother, Peter, got some and didn't pay for it."
I was feeling lightheaded.
"Got some?"
She giggled.
"Never mind."
She put her arm around my waist and began walking with me towards my house.
"Come on, honey,” she said sweetly, “let Little Red Riding Hood take good care of you."
I smiled at her.
"You are so very kind."
* * * *
As she tucked me into my bed, she pulled the covers up close to my face, and as she leaned over, I couldn't help but notice her ample breasts straining against the material. She caught me looking and smiled.
"Like them?” she asked.
"I ... I'm so embarrassed,” I stuttered, “they were right in my face and I couldn't help..."
She stopped me.
"Maybe you'd like to see them close up."
She unbuttoned the sweater and pulled it open. Her perfectly formed, perfectly sized bosom fell out in front of my eyes. Her large nipples were as pink as the carnations we had passed on our walk down the forest path and they stuck out like brand new pencil erasers.
"Red...” I began.
"Shhh ... suck,” she whispered.
I took a deep breath.
"Please leave."
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
I took another deep breath.
"Please leave."
Her eyes became moist.
"Leave?"
"Please,” I continued weakly, “I could not take advantage, and I'm really not feeling well."
She leaned down into my face and sneered.
"You haven't begun to feel bad."
The drugs took over at that moment and I blacked out.
* * * *
It was several hours later when I woke up. Upon opening my weary eyes, I saw a person's form rummaging through my dresser. It took me a few blinks of my eyes to finally realize that it was Red. I cleared my throat of the grogginess and cobwebs, and attempted to speak.
"What are you doing?” I asked.
She turned to face me and smiled.
"Looking for money, jewels, you know, something of value,” she confessed.
I thought her confession of pilfering through my private quarters was a bit brazen, given the fact that I was a six-foot wolf and she was a five-foot human, but I quickly realized why she had such a calm exterior. As I began to rise from the bed, I found that I was shackled to the bedposts by handcuffs.
"What are you doing?!” I shouted, now quite in control of my senses, “Why am I cuffed to the bed?!"
"Now, wolfie,” she cooed, “how would I be able to steal from you if you were running around loose? Just relax. I'll be finished soon."
"You harlot!” I yelled at her. “How dare you come into my home, posing as this Good Samaritan, and then steal my belongings from me!"
"Careful, wolfie,” she chuckled, “I wouldn't be calling someone names in your condition, if I were you."
"What condition?” I huffed.
"Your naked condition."
I looked down in horror. She had taken my pants and underwear off (yes, 21st century wolves wear clothing), had stroked me to erection while I slept, and then had placed some sort of black elastic band around my genitals to keep it sustained. I was hard and couldn't even will it to go down. She picked up a knife and began to walk towards me.
"And now since I think I've everything I want from the house, I'll take a little piece of you."
My face went pale and I began digging my heels into the mattress in my attempt to try to move up the bed to get away from her.
"No! No! Please!” I screamed, “Take what you want from the house, but please don't take that!"
She laughed and put down the knife.
"Relax, wolfie,” she told me, “I'm going to take what I want, but you'll enjoy it as much as I do."
She got on the bed with me, then unbuttoned her sweater again and stuck her breasts in my face.
"Suck them,” she ordered cruelly, “and if you bite my titties, I swear I'll use that knife on you."
I wrapped my lips around my nipple and began nursing them, moving from one to the other as I did when I was a cub and would nuzzle my mother. It wasn't totally unpleasant, but I just wanted this over with, to be uncuffed, and for her to be out of my house.
I felt her move from my face, and when I opened my eyes, I saw her taking off her skirt.
"What are you doing?” I asked, “Put your skirt back on."
"Oh no, wolfie,” she replied, “I can't pass up such a perfectly hard dick. This big dick needs to be fucked."
"It is not a ‘dick',” I arrogantly corrected her, “it is a penis and I don't do that F word. When I am involved with a young lady, we make love."
She laughed. It was a cruel laugh that sent shivers up my spine.
"Well, wolfie,” she responded, “tonight this is a dick and you are going to get fucked, not made love to."
She squatted over my erection and slammed down on it with her body. It went directly into her vagina without missing a beat. Her juices saturated me and we both screamed.
"Oh yeah!” she squealed as she bucked naked me, “Ride ’em cowgirl! Whoo hoo!"
"Oh yes,” I groaned, “Ride me."
She grabbed a handful of fur at the back of my head and tilted my head back, kissing me deeply and swirling her tongue inside my mouth so that I would gently suck on it. She moved up and down in a furious rocking motion, now taking my erection fully inside her wet flesh. She was relentless, never st
opping or slowing her rhythmical dance, and groan after groan began to leave my throat with no way of me stopping it. My legs were trembling again, like two uncontainable and unruly children, and even though my mind was willing them to settle down, they would not be controlled. The feeling of her pussy wrapped around my cock was an erotic and astonishing combination. I strained against the cuffs.
"Oohh ... god ... you're driving me crazy,” I breathed.
"Tell me that you love my pussy fucking you,” she said.
"I love ... you ... making ... making love to me,” I muttered.
"Say it!” she shrieked, “You love my pussy fucking you!"
"I love ... your ... your pussy ... fuck ... fucking me,” I repeated, my breath now coming out in short, labored gasps.
I would have said or done anything she wanted me to at that moment, even that I would let Satan bend me over in the middle of Grand Central Station, pull my pants and underwear down around my ankles, stick his thick 13” long dick between my butt cheeks and fuck me up the ass with it, if only she would let me come. She knew I was getting near the breaking point. My fingers were digging into the bedposts.
"Come for me,” she demanded.
"Oohh ... yes ... yes,” I whimpered, “Don't stop ... oh my god ... oohh ... please don't ... oohh ... don't stop."
I knew I sounded like a sniveling, pussy-whipped wuss, but her sweet cunt was so incredibly warm and wet around me that, try as I might, I couldn't hold back. She was playing me as harmonious as a violin and she knew it.
"That's it,” she continued, coaxing me firmly, “that's a good boy, wolfie ... do it ... come for me ... fuck me ... explode in my pussy."
"Please...” I moaned, my voice now coming out in short whines.
"Please what, wolfie?” she teased, enjoying her control, tightening her vaginal muscles again. It felt as if there was a velvet vise enveloping my dick and I could feel a bit of drool on my chin from all my panting.
"Ooohh ... pl ... ease ... fu ... ck me ... pl ... ease ... le ... let ... me ... c ... come."
My words were no longer intelligible ... they were mere syllables with low moans behind them. I had never experienced such a maddening, yet phenomenal mixture of pleasure and pain. She tightened her cunt around my cock and the orgasm that followed was the hardest I had ever experienced in my life. I threw my head back and groaned loud and long, gripping the bedposts with all my might.
Semen blasted from my testicles with a force that could have launched the next space shuttle, leaving me panting and fighting for breath. Red's pussy milked every last drop of cum out of me and then I felt her rise off of me, leaving my dick drooping like a pair of 90 year old tits.
I opened my eyes as she was packing up my valuables in a pillowcase and starting to walk out the door.
"Pl ... please,” I whined, “don't leave me like this."
She looked back over her shoulder at me, smoothed her skirt down over her hips, and smiled.
"Don't worry, wolfie,” she told me, “the key to the handcuffs is under the pillow. It may take you a few minutes to get yourself uncuffed, but I'm sure you can do it.” She gave me a military salute. “Thanks for the goodies."
And with that she was gone.
I had to smile and shake my head. I knew that no one would ever believe the real story of Little Red Riding Hood, so I would just let the fable stay as it was.
[Back to Table of Contents]
MOMMY, MY DEAREST
The tension had been building for several months. In the beginning, we were online acquaintances that chatted and eventually sent each other a picture of ourselves. I instantly fell in love with her beautiful eyes, short dark hair, and infectious smile. Then we decided to talk on the telephone and I fell in love with her gentle voice. She was soft spoken and kind, but I knew from our chats that she would not be so kind if you riled her. She was a divorced mother of two boys, now grown and gone with families of their own, and we had shared many stories of how she had brought them up under a strict hand. I was secretly envious of her sons, not only for their ability to be close to her, but knowing she had been their only disciplinarian.
I had been the only child of a loving mother and father, but have to admit I had been spoiled and pampered by them. Discipline in their household where I grew up was a reduction in my allowance, of which I had no use for anyway. I craved the punishments that I would hear my friends tell me that they had gotten for their misbehavior, but my parents were of the mindset to “spare the rod and spoil the child". They were also of the 1960's “flower child” generation and didn't believe in striking anyone in anger.
Alana loved making me do things that I knew I shouldn't do but couldn't resist doing for her. I went into work one Saturday afternoon to try and catch up on some paper work, but as I sat at my desk and fumbled through file folders, I couldn't stop thinking about her, so decided to give her a quick call.
"It's so nice to hear your voice, Daniel,” she said when she realized it was me.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything,” I said quickly.
"No, not at all, just doing a bit of house cleaning and laundry. What are you up to today?"
"I came in to work to do some paper work,” I told her, “but I can't seem to concentrate on it."
"Why is that?” she asked.
I blushed. I knew there was almost 20 years between us but she was the most beautiful older woman I had ever known.
"Because I was thinking about you."
"And what happens when you think of me?” she asked.
The blush on my face got a deeper red.
"I get hard."
She chuckled to herself.
"Are you touching yourself, Daniel?"
I loved the way she called me by real name instead of the stupid nicknames my immature friends made out of it.
"Yes ma'am. A little. Just through my shorts."
"I want you to do something for me."
"Okay. Anything."
"Unfasten your shorts and pull them down to your knees."
A short gasp escaped my throat.
"Right here? Right now? In my office?"
"Yes. Right there. Right now. In your office."
"What if someone comes in?"
"Then you should get up and lock your door, shouldn't you?"
"Yes ma'am."
I quickly got up to lock the door and then returned to my chair and my phone call with her.
"It's locked."
"Then do as I asked you to do."
I blushed again.
"Yes ma'am."
I unfastened, unzipped, and pulled the shorts to my knees.
"They're down."
"And what are you wearing under them?” she asked.
"Boxers."
"I want you to pull the boxers down."
I gasped again.
"But ma'am,” I said, lowering my voice as if someone else could hear me,” then I'll be bare from the waist down."
"Yes, I know that, Daniel. Now do as you were told."
"Yes ma'am."
I quickly looked around to make sure no one could see me, then put my thumbs in my waistband and slid the boxers down to meet the shorts. The leather of the chair was cold on my bare skin.
"They're down."
I could feel her smile through the telephone line.
"Do you feel like a naughty boy when you do things like this for me?” she asked.
"Yes ma'am, very naughty."
"Do you know what happens to naughty boys?” she asked.
I could feel the muscles in my body tense up. I knew exactly what she was about to say.
"No ma'am."
"Naughty boys get their bare bottoms spanked,” she said as-a-matter-of-factly.
"They do?"
"Yes, they do."
"But ma'am, I'm a grown man. I'm twenty-five years old. I'm too old for a spanking."
"No, you are not too old,” she clarified.
"May I ask how you would spank me if
you were here right now?” I asked.
"If I was there right now,” she said, “I would make you stand up from your seat, I would sit down, I would put you over my knee, and I would give you a long, hard bare bottom spanking just like I did to my sons when they would misbehave."
I felt a tingle go through my body and I swear I could feel her breath on the back of my neck.
"Would you stop if I started to cry?” I asked.
"No, I would not. I wouldn't stop until your bottom was the shade of red that I wanted it to be."
I couldn't resist. I couldn't hold back. I wrapped my fingers around my naked cock. A moan escaped my lips.
"What are you doing there, Daniel?” she asked.
"Please don't be mad,” I whimpered, “but I had to touch myself."
I heard her sigh.
"What am I going to do with you?"
I chuckled.
"Blister my bottom?"
She laughed.
"Among other things."
I stroked as she told me how, after catching one of her sons smoking when he was a young teen, she had made him come to her bedroom and lectured him on the evils of cigarettes. She said it wouldn't have been so bad until he started back talking to her and she began to get madder and madder.
"What did you do then?” I urged as I continued to caress.
"Well,” she said, “he had on a pair of elastic waist sweat pants, so I jerked them down, whirled him around so that he was bending over the end of my bed, and I began swatting the daylights out of him.” She stopped and giggled. “He never expected that, so I had gotten several good swats in before he even realized what happened. I think being bare bottom in front of his mother at that age was better discipline than the spanking. Much more embarrassing."
The story was too much for me and my orgasm erupted, the cum flowing out of the head of my cock and over my hand. As much as I tried, I couldn't keep the moan from coming out and being overheard by Alana.
"Daniel?"
"Yes ... yes ma'am?"
"What just happened there?"
"I ... um ... I came. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."
She chuckled.
"I know."
I was taken by surprise.
"You're not mad?"
Her Next Victim and Other Stories Page 7