Morning masturbations.

You surprise yourself come morning by actually managing to wake up before Nightmare. Then again, considering the position she had left you in, your near constant state of arousal made sleep something difficult to maintain. Wriggling out of Nightmare’s hold was the work of a minute, and when finally free you turn and look down at the anthro from the edge of the bed.

Sleep has relaxed her muscles, leaving her far more at ease then the night before when she, you recall with a flush, rode you to orgasm. Tracing the lines of her muscular form sends blood rushing low, and as you feel a hand drifting to your cock, you pause. It’s an odd feeling which forestalls you. Almost shame and a moment of thought bringing the closest equivalent.

You had been in high school, the age of raging hormones and when girls were becoming women. Such times were hard for a young boy, and you were usually able to keep your hands to yourself until returning home when you could really keep them to yourself. But when Miss Munroe, the teacher assistant fresh from College and who still dressed like she was there had dropped her books, the tight fabric of her skirt flexing over the flesh it held beneath…well, what other recourse was left?

The bathroom was empty, mercifully, and the stall though defaced by markings and smelling less than stellar had proven secure. Your pants pooled around your ankles, back pressed against the body of the toilet, your mind drifted far away to a place where you thrust into a tight ass no longer bound by a skirt, your breath coming heavily in tandem to your hand moving along your cock.

Then, the door. A bang, and footsteps far too heavy to be a student. You paused mid stroke, holding your breath. When the shoes of the principal showed through the gap at the bottom in the stall and he tried the handle, you gasped “O-occupied!” you felt even more aroused! Your dick throbbed in your hand, the threat of discovery making your heart pound and blood rush in your ears. The feet moved away, but you were already stroking yourself faster, Miss Munroe’s moans and pleads for you to give it to her far more real than it had any right to be!

Then, it was over. You cleaned your cock and flushed away the evidence of your shame, hiked your pants back up and returned to class. Though exciting you had to admit, knowing you had done something right before a man you respected had left you feeling somewhat dirtied and almost…contemptible. The situation was different now of course. For one, the fantasy in your mind had been real, and the evidence lay before you. For another, Nightmare cut a far better figure than the dour and grim presence from your school days. Yet worse, the genuine feelings you have for Nightmare, though in many ways they remain confusing, fill you not only with shame. But a deep desire to please.

You grip your hair tightly at this conundrum. Somehow, you had already allowed Nightmare to cast her shadow over your mind, and bound your own pleasure up with her approval. How…vexing. But the truth remained, you wanted to make Nightmare happy. You accepted that when you signed the papers.

Which doesn’t make the need your cock radiates any easier to ignore.

Deciding to try and occupy yourself, you decide to make breakfast. Still naked, scratching your hair and smelling of stale sex and sweat, you make your way downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Hahhhh…” you groan, opening the fridge. “Let’s see…Hey!” you cry out, pulling out an empty six pack of beer. “Who the…construction workers.” The rings crackle as you grip them in sudden understanding. “Sons of bitches. Agh! Whatever. The hell else do I got…what do horse morphs eat anyway…”

You pull out of the fridge with a perplexed look. Though the idea of cooking for Nightmare came from nowhere, the appeal to it is oddly enticing. Scratching your chin, you begin to root through the cabinets for some inspiration. “Meats’ out of the question. Is she a vegan? Shiiiit,” you groan, realizing how little you actually know about your mistress and her preferences. “Ahh…Eh? What’s this…I had pancake mix?” You give the box a shake, and then shrug. It’s as safe a bet as any, you think. Cheered far more than you thought you would be, you quickly find yourself engaged in the silent industry of making breakfast.

Enraptured in the work, you don’t realize Nightmare has awoken until you feel a muscular arm slip over your shoulder and down your chest. You yelp reflexively, but the insistent arm merely pulls you back against a pair of pillowy breasts, the sharp edges of two metal rings jabbing into your shoulder blades.

“Morning Pet,” Nightmare breathes into your ear. You shudder as her tongue flicks out and licks your lobe. How does she always know just how to get you hard? “I was wondering where you got to.” Her arm tightens possessively against you, but you pay it no mind, keeping your eyes riveted forward on the pan in your hand.

“Yeah,” you ****, clearing your throat heavily. “Uh…yeah. I just decided to make some…some breakfast.”

Her chuckling scrapes the rings on her nipples against your shoulders wonderfully. “My,” Nightmare purrs. “What a thoughtful Pet I found. So very thoughtful…In fact, I think good pets deserve a little reward. Don’t you?”

An agreement comes out stuttered and shaky, you being far too engrossed in the hand slowly trailing down your shoulder, seeking out and wrapping around your rigid manhood. Nightmare smiles against your cheek and gently nibbles on your ear. “I agree…”

Nightmare slowly begins to pump at your rigid cock, forcing you to moan and shake against the pleasurable ****. Her other arm wraps about your waist, pulling you against her and preventing you from thrusting into her hand.

Sunlight streams through the windows and into your home. The only sounds are your wanton gasps as Nightmare relentlessly masturbates you, alternately whispering into and nibbling on your ear and neck. Your climax sweeps in swiftly, and good god, it’s amazing. No image in your mind of taut blank skirts and the risk of possible discovery can compare to the feel of those black fingers holding you, helpless within their grasp.

“Oh god,” you gaps, leaning back and against Nightmare’s rock hard frame. “I’m coming…”

“Come, Pet,” Nightmare soothes. “Come for me.”

As though her permission was all it took, you explode into her hand, moaning and quaking in her grasp. Nightmare smiles, and when she is sure you can stand on your shaky legs, she releases you. You look over your shoulder wearily, and feel your flagging vitality rise again on watching Nightmare lewdly lick her fingers clean of your mess.

Catching your look, the anthro chuckled and shrugged helplessly. “Sorry Pet. I’m afraid I just couldn’t wait for the pancakes to eat with the cream.”

“Ah, that’s okay,” you assure and hastily turn back to the oven. “Should just uh…be another minute.”

Nightmare chuckles to herself and leaves you to your work. Taking a seat at one of the reinforced chairs in the dining room, she reclines lazily until you arrive with the food. Passing your mistress a plate, you take a seat at your own spot, which quickly becomes very close to Nightmare as she takes the chair closest to you, crowding you with her powerful figure.

“So Pet,” nightmare begins, aiming a fork at you casually. “Did you have anything planned for today?”

You smile tightly, having difficulty composing yourself so near to this powerful example of feminine muscle. “Uhh…no, not really. When I…I mean, when I decided to go down to the shop I took a week off…off work. You know, just in case.”

“I see .” You lean back reflexively as Nightmare leans forward. “Then I suppose you have today free?”

“I…” You glance side to side. “…Maybe. What uh…what did you have in mind?”

Nightmare smiles mischievously.