Mountain Cat: Drugs are fun
You aren't sure what she put in the food. Whatever it was she ate it too. In little bites as she fed you from her plate, arms still tied securely behind you because the last time you had hand privileges you misused them and went for a knife.
She pet your head, massive paws and razor sharp claws carding through your ever longer hair, and told you not to worry, the paw mitts she ordered would be there soon enough and you could move your arms again.
For now though your still tied to this fucking chair watching the fan on the cabin celling spin round and round. You're not sure if it's getting faster or slower. Your ability to focus on the individual paddles went away a while ago and now you're just watching the blurry pattern shift above you. For a brief moment, her face comes before yours and you whine as she snaps by your ears before laving your line of sight again.
Your head lolls to the side to try and follow her, but it's like you can't focus on her. Your eyes get caught on everything from the table serving as an island in the small open plan kitchen to the way her tail swishes to a particularly interesting part of the floor. Nothing stays still. It all spins and mixes but you can't tell if that's you're fault or the universe crumbling around you.
She returns and presses a cold rag to your face, “You still there, toy?” you don't think the sad groan you managed was really an answer, but she starts to cut away your binds so it must have been what she was looking for. The floor still holds your gaze and you trace the blending lines of the woodgrain as she tears off what meager clothing you were permitted. When did your limbs turn in to dead weight? You try and shift to focus on them, but they look fine. Your arms just feel like they weigh millions of pounds and moving at all causes the room to spin.
Desperatly, you choke out a question. Begging her to tell you what she has done. She chuckles and runs one of those sharp claws down your torso and says nothing. The pin sharp point drags all your focus to it and then throws it away as her touch leaves you. Above you, the fan still spins, faster, then slower. Your eyes slide shut to avoid the light.
You can feel her hands on you. Sometimes it's the sharp feeling of her claws, or the disorienting softness of her tongue. When she dips between your legs you manage a yelp and to grasp at the fur on her head but your eyes remain closed and you can't even manage to push her away.
She moves you as she pleases and you are next aware of her laying you out on the couch. You blink blearily up at her face as it focuses for a second. Her mouth is wet and her teeth still too bright as she smirks down at you.
“You taste wonderful, morsel.” She purrs. You notice now that she has stripped naked herself and she has dawned her strap again. You don't remember her getting that, or even leaving long enough to get it. A part of you is almost glad you can't focus on what she is about to do. You've seen this toy before. You know it's shape and weight well by now. You know what she's going to do with it and even through the haze you clench weakly in fear.
You're almost thankful as the haze drags your mind to the way the fur of her ears twists into spikes at the tips. Almost like little devils horns. It's not of your own volition that your arms reach out to touch them. To see if they are as sharp as they look. Would you bleed if cut by them? Would they be soft? Would she…..
She sheathes herself inside you in a single swoop and even through the drugged haze it forces your attention back to that thing now inside you. It's not painful, really, through the haze, but you whine and whimper all the same as she eases back out of you, each ridge sending sparks through your body causing you to thrash weakly. Easily, she grasps one flailing wrist and then the other and brings them above your head as she presses back inside.
“You're so loose like this, pet,” her voice is a rasp against your ear. You whine as she repeats her motions. In and out. Too much and yet you can not even try and twist away as your body refuses to head your insistent calls to flail and fight.
You aren't sure how long she will go this time…. you aren't sure you will ever get to know. But as she presses into you again and again your body gives out and you trace the panels on the celling, arms limp and body pliant.