beast taming

The day that followed was pure, drawn-out torment for Chasca.

Whatever switch had flipped in the night stayed firmly on. She stumbled through camp barely functional—eyes glassy, breathing too quick, thighs pressed together whenever she had to stand still. By midday the thin shorts she had forced herself into were visibly soaked through at the crotch and clinging to her. Every accidental glimpse of Aether across the clearing made her falter mid-step. She kept her distance as ordered, but the restraint cost her everything she had. By the time the sun set she looked half-feral, flushed and twitching, the scent of her constant arousal noticeable to anyone who passed too close.

Morning arrived.

Rosaria inspected the bruise on Aether’s neck with critical thoroughness first. The deep blue-black mark had faded dramatically overnight; only a faint yellowish shadow remained. She prodded it once, watched his face for any residual pain, then gave a short, reluctant nod.

“Go. She’s waited long enough. And she’s been dripping through her clothes since yesterday—if you don’t deal with her she’ll start humping the tent poles.”

Aether needed no further encouragement.

He pushed the flap of Chasca’s tent aside and stopped.

The display that greeted him was pure, concentrated need.

Chasca knelt perfectly upright in the center of the mattress, completely nude except for a single addition: a sturdy red dog collar buckled snugly around her throat, a short chain dangling from the ring and trailing across her bare thighs. Her hands were held neatly at her sides, wrists bent, fingers curled inward in clear puppy-paw fashion. Her mouth hung open as she panted in short, hot breaths like a beast that had been running too long. Eyes glassy and fixed on him. Nipples stiff. The insides of her thighs shone with the continuous slick that had been leaking out of her since the previous morning.

(https://im.ge/i/QMZaw6Y)
(artist: nov1527)

She did not speak.

She only looked up at him with that same raw, animal hunger, chain resting against her skin, body presented and waiting, the very picture of a bitch who had finally been allowed to stop holding herself back.

Aether’s cock was fully hard before the tent flap even settled shut behind him.

He closed the flap and took the chain in one hand.

Chasca’s breath hitched. She stayed in perfect puppy posture—knees spread, paws held neatly at her sides, mouth open and panting—while he looked her over. The red collar sat snug against her throat; every hard swallow made the leather creak softly. He gave the chain a short downward tug. She dropped her chest to the mattress immediately, ass rising, back arched, presenting her soaked cunt without needing a single word.

(https://im.ge/i/QMZ7OuD)
(artist: balymboai)

He mounted her from behind in one smooth thrust.

The sound that left her was half moan, half howl. Aether set a deep, claiming pace, one hand locked in the chain so every stroke kept tension on the collar. Chasca pushed back eagerly, cheek pressed to the bedroll, fingers still curled in paw shape even as her arms braced against the force. Wet, filthy slaps filled the tent. Whenever he yanked the chain a little tighter the pinkish flame of her Passion flickered to life around the collar, licking harmlessly along the leather and her skin.

He fucked her like that until her first climax tore through her in a full-body shudder and a loud, broken cry. Then he pulled out, used the chain to drag her around onto her back, and pushed her knees up to her chest. The new angle let him drive straight down into her. Chasca’s paws stayed obediently curled even while her tits bounced with every impact. She stared up at him with glassy, worshipful eyes, tongue occasionally lolling when the pleasure spiked too hard. The flame around her collar brightened each time he pinned her wrists or forced a deeper stroke.

Hours blurred.

He had her on all fours again, this time with the chain looped under his foot so she had to keep her head low and her ass high or choke herself. He took her in long, heavy thrusts while she whimpered and drooled onto the mattress, the perfect picture of a bitch being broken to saddle. When she came she howled into the fabric, cunt clamping and gushing around him, flame flaring bright enough to cast moving shadows on the tent walls.

Later he sat back against the bedroll and simply pointed at his cock. Chasca crawled forward on her knees and elbows, chain dragging, and took him into her mouth with a grateful, muffled sound. She sucked like it was the only task she had ever been given—wet, deep, eyes rolled up for approval whenever he stroked her hair or lightly tugged the collar. Spit ran down her chin and onto her bare breasts. Every time he held her head down and fucked her throat the flame around her neck pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

The heaviest petplay stretch came near midday.

Aether clipped the chain short to a sturdy tent pole so she could only move in a tight arc, then made her stay on all fours while he slowly worked every inch back into her cunt from behind. He kept one hand on the back of her neck, pressing her chest to the floor, and spoke low and steady while he fucked her in deep, rhythmic strokes.

“Good girl. Stay open. That’s your job now—keep this cunt ready and milking whenever I want it. No more hiding in the wild. No more running from it. You’re a domestic pet. My pet.”

Chasca’s answer was a continuous string of desperate, happy whimpers and the frantic rock of her hips trying to take him deeper. The wild, uncontrolled beast that had fingerfucked herself raw the night before was being steadily overwritten. Every strong dominant act—a firm spank that left a red print on her ass, a sharp tug of the chain that forced her back into a deeper arch, the simple order to present and hold—made the Flame of Passion flare brighter around the red collar until it almost looked like a glowing mark of ownership.

She never once made it difficult.

She wanted the submission. She offered it with every panting breath and every eager clench of her cunt. Aether took everything she gave and shaped it, spending the entire day training the feral Name Bearer into a thoroughly fucked, thoroughly obedient puppy who came on command, presented on command, and howled into the mattress whenever her new owner decided she had earned another load deep inside her.

By late afternoon the tent reeked of sex. Chasca lay on her side where he had left her, chain still attached, collar still warm from the repeated flares of her flame, thighs sticky and trembling. When he moved she immediately tried to crawl after him on unsteady paws, tongue out, eyes soft and ruined with pleasure, already waiting for the next order.

The wild animal had been tamed.