A mind of its own

Pauline stood frozen after the call, the tail twitching behind her like some obscene punctuation mark. Her body was back in its familiar perfection, blonde hair gleaming, skin pale and flawless but that length of living flesh trailing from the base of her spine reminded her this was no dream. Only morons believed in god or the devil however here she was, with a pink tail curling and uncurling as if impatient for her next move.

The apartment was pristine but she felt dirty. A crawling filth under her skin. Without thinking, she strode across the marble floor, Naked, furious, her breasts swayed as she stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

She walked into her shower and the hot water hissed as it poured down, steam filling the mirrored room. Pauline stepped under the spray and gasped as the heat hit her skin, cascading down her shoulders, over her breasts, down her belly. She braced herself against the tiles, blonde hair plastering to her scalp, trying not to think of the thing growing out of her.

It moved and she was aware of the watter running down it, the sensation was alien, the thing was a part of her, she ignored it at first, focusing on her ritual, shampoo into her hair, nails massaging her scalp, foam trailing down her spine. Yet every time she shifted, the tail twitched, brushing against her thighs. Once, twice, light flicks like a whip teasing. She grit her teeth.

Her hands slid lower, working conditioner through the golden ropes of her hair. And then she felt it. The tail curling, climbing. It slithered along her left leg, the soft skin of her inner thigh. She froze, breath catching.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

But it dared.

The arrow-shaped tip flicked against her clit with a wicked precision. Just once, a playful snap of sensation. Her knees buckled. The gasp that ripped from her throat was raw, humiliating. She clutched at the slick tiles for balance, her perfect breasts heaving.

“No,” she growled, shaking her head, sending droplets flying. “Not me. I don’t lose control.”

Her nipples stiffened, tightening into aching points. Her cunt throbbed, wetness already spilling under the hot water. her hand went to her nipple and twisted as if pain could push the heat back down.

The tail flicked again, harder. She moaned before she could stop it.

Pauline twisted, tried to grab the thing, but it danced away, agile, laughing at her. She squeezed her thighs together to trap it, but the pressure only pressed the slick, sensitive tip harder against her swollen clit. Sparks shot up her spine. She shook, furious tears mixing with water.

Then it plunged.

The arrow-tip thrust between her lips, sliding inside her slick pussy without warning. Pauline’s scream ricocheted against the tiles, echoing back at her in a chorus of shame. Her whole body jolted, hands slamming against the wall as her back arched. Her hair stuck to her skin, water cascading down her ass as the tail drove deeper, twisting perversely and pounding.

She landed on all fours, knees slipping on the wet tile spreading her legs wide, her perfect body reduced to an animal stance. Her breasts swung with each violent thrust, nipples dragging against the wet floor. Her cries were ragged, guttural, dragged from her unwilling throat.

Every thrust was wrong, part of her knew that she controlled it and this was want she wanted but, her own cruelty was being **** upon her.

She came once, hard, sudden, convulsing, face pressed down as her scream of release muffled against the tile. But the tail did not stop. It pounded harder, merciless. She tried to lift her head and crawl forward, but it pulled her hips back, impaling her on its length, coiling inside of her. A second orgasm ripped through her before she could breathe. Her thighs trembled, slick with water and her own fluids.

“Stop,” she begged, forehead pressed to the floor. “Please, stop—”

Her pleading brought back memories of her previous victims moans, realisation hit her, that she enjoyed the sound and this had spurred her on, her tail was now in control

Her cunt clenched greedily around the tail, dragging it deeper, shuddering in greedy spasms. Another orgasm tore her apart, leaving her gasping, the water from the shower filling her mouth making her sound like a drowning woman. Her hands slipped, nails clawing the tile, chipping them. She was getting pounded and stretched more than she had ever been before, and yet her body burned for more.

At last, the tail slowed, retreating with a slick, obscene slide. Pauline collapsed onto her side, chest heaving, hair plastered across her flushed face. Her thighs quivered, cunt raw and pulsing, the hot water washing her clean.

She lay there, stunned, the steam **** her lungs. A cruel laugh in her ears, it took her a second to realise it was her own.

Finally, she dragged herself up, twisted the shower off, and staggered to the mirror. The woman who stared back looked wrecked. Hair wild, eyes wide, lips swollen, nipples peaked and angry red, She looked like filth.

She spat into the sink, furious, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her trembling body.

The tail still swayed lazily behind her, like a cats.

Pauline **** herself into control. She dried her skin, powdered her face, and strode to her dressing room. Racks of designer clothes, drawers of silk lingerie, shelves of Louboutins.

But the tail would not let her. As she bent to pull on a pair of satin panties, it whipped out and yanked the delicate fabric aside, rubbing against her still-sensitive slit. She gasped, nearly dropping them.

“Enough,” she snarled, clutching the mirror frame for balance. “You’ll ruin me, you want me to fail and become a monster.”

Her solution was buried deep in a locked drawer. She yanked it open, fingers shaking, and drew out the thing she had ordered long ago for a forgotten fetish phase, a rubber bodice, obscene in its purpose, designed to hold and constrict her but leave her breasts free. It sealed over her pussy and asshole, slick black, locking her holes shut. It squeaked as she pulled it tight, the clasps snapping in place. Her breasts spilled above it, proud and perfect, but everything below was imprisoned.

The tail squirmed, lashing, but she trapped it under the bodice, wrapping it tight around her waist before locking the final clasp. It thrashed once, twice, then stilled, bound against her belly, **** into obedience.

Pauline exhaled, long and ragged.

She selected her outfit carefully. Black pencil skirt, hugging her hips. White silk blouse, buttons tight against her breasts. She added sheer stockings, their tops disappearing beneath her skirt, and heels that clicked authority.

Only she knew of the rubber prison under the silk. Only she felt the twitch of the tail against her skin, **** to escape.

She painted her lips a cruel red, twisted her blonde hair into a perfect knot, and looked at herself in the mirror. No one would know.

She left her apartment, locking the door behind her, down the private elevator, across the underground garage, into her car leather interior soft and rich. The tail shifted against her skin like a snake as she sank into the seat, but the cage held it in place.

The engine purred as she turned the key. Pauline gripped the wheel, exhaling slowly. She was back in control.

Or so she told herself.

Her phone buzzed on the console. She didn’t need to check. It was Joe.

The man’s address was already burned into her mind. The file he’d sent replayed itself in her thoughts, a nobody. Twenty-eight. A wife, two children, a dog. A job so mundane she’d already forgotten it—something with numbers, sales, computers. A life so dull it made her sneer.

And yet Joe wanted him ruined.

Pauline’s lips curled into a sharp smile. She could do this. She would make it exquisite. She would peel his life apart, leave his wife broken, his children fatherless, his soul hollow. She would do it because she had to. She would do it because she could.

As she drove the city thinned into quiet rows of terraced houses, her chest tightened.

Her cunt throbbed against the rubber cage, the tail twitching, eager. She bit her lip.

At last, she pulled up outside his house. A modest semi-detached.

She sat in the driver’s seat, nails drumming against the leather wheel. Her reflection in the glass looked calm, perfect. But beneath her skirt, the tail fought the cage, twitching like a beast straining at a leash.

Pauline smiled coldly.