Chapter 6: Mutt

“Hey.”

Tiffany’s voice is slow and dreamy. She lies on the bed bow-legged, her perky little tits exposed to the world, and with a hole in her spats to expose her plump, swollen pussy. She ripped that hole herself, and demanded he fill it; the bedsheets and linens have dark stains that spread from her groin. She squirts, Ivan has learned, and is more than a little proud of herself for doing so.

“Mm?” he grunts. The post-orgasm lethargy is beginning to leave him, and he is wondering where he put his shirt. And his underwear, for that matter. She seems to have hidden them, although he doesn’t know when she might have found the time. Very mysterious.

“Why don’t you ever nut inside me?” she asks, a little petulantly.

As she speaks, she rubs her chest, which is still decorated with his seed. She is sliding her fingers through it, slowly massaging it into the skin; she gives her nipples a firm pinch as her fingers slide over them, biting her lower lip as she does.

“Because you tell me not to?” he replies, tilting his head. “Do you not ask me to cum somewhere else every single time?”

“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to listen.” Her voice sharpens a little as the afterglow fades. “Aren’t guys supposed to get so horny and carried away that they default to instinct and just blow a load inside you, even if you tell them not to?”

“There are laws against such things,” he says, impassively. “And it is very rude. I could never face your mother or sister again.”

“What are you, an idiot? Don’t talk about other women five minutes after you get done fucking me. Geez.” She pouts, blowing air into her cheeks; he supposes it’s not unattractive, in its own way. “Okay. So what I’m hearing is that the big baby needs me to sign his permission slip before he’ll shoot his shot.”

He frowns. Knowing Tiffany as he does, he has a suspicion that this argument is less about his lack of boldness and more some harebrained anxiety she has about not being woman enough to make him lose his composure during the act. But pointing that out does not feel like it will make his future sunny and bright, and so he abstains. Instead, he continues looking for his shirt.

But the bunny is not done, and catches him by resting her foot on his hip. “So. How do I get you to do what I want?”

“Asking would be a good first step.”

“But asking outright isn’t sexy. Going through all the details ahead of time makes it feel like we’re making some kind of business deal,” she complains. “It’s gotta be more like… bam! Passionate!”

He wonders if he’s really the man she wants passion from. As far as he’s been told, their encounters are just… casual. Her way of blowing off steam, and perhaps reinforcing a flagging self-image. Of making herself feel desired. Perhaps the fact that she’s asking these questions means their relationship has grown, although it mostly seems to have grown more troublesome.

“How about a code word, then?” she says. “It’ll be like role play. A little word where if I say it, I want you to disregard everything and just fucking cream me. What do you think?”

“I think… you are more attached to this idea than I believed you were,” he says, his brow furrowing.

“I know. What about ‘Mutt’? I think that’s a great code word,” she says, in a tone of mock innocence.

“Traditionally, code words are things you do not say in regular conversation,” he says tersely.

She ignores him. A wicked smile has taken root on her face, and he has a feeling it will be all but impossible to wipe it away.

“Mutt,” she says, slowly and deliberately. Gleefully. “Come here, mutt.”

He wonders for a second if she is serious.

But then she lifts her hips, bracing her back with her arms, until her legs are completely vertical in the air. Then, with an odd kind of grace, she parts them — further, and further, until they are completely horizontal. Many things can be said about Tiffany, but he cannot deny her flexibility.

And in the centre, on full display, is her pussy. Still wet, still glistening. Her fluffy little tail wriggles in anticipation.

“Come on, mutt,” she says, and she drops her voice half an octave. Her eyes are half lidded; she takes a moment to lick her lips. “One round is never enough for you, right? Mutt. Mutt! Come on. Come breed me. Don’t you want to fill me with your puppies, mutt?” Then she grins, her face sudden lighting up. “Oh! I know. Maybe you just never learned where to put them?”

She reaches up, her tail still wriggling, and spreads her pussy for him without a hint of shame. “Here. Here’s where you put them, mutt. My sister won’t take them, but I will. Isn’t that nice of me? A little treat for my favourite little mutt.”

He knows she’s trying to irritate him. He knows she’s trying to make him rise to the bait. But goddamn it, it is working. He stands up; he is no longer concerned with finding his shirt. Instead, he grinds himself against her entrance, once, twice, before slapping her insolent little clit with his cock.

“If you are going to change your mind,” he growls, “now is your chance.”

There is no hesitation on her face. Just barely contained glee.

“Mutt.”

He takes one of her tiny ankles in each hand, and forces her legs even further apart until she is taut like a bow. Then, he drives himself straight to the root of her in one furious stroke.

The smug look on her face dissolves into ecstasy. She constricts around him frantically, squirting as she does; her tail continues to flutter wildly at his back.

He slowly withdraws, keeping just the tip inside her, and piledrives her again, and again, and again. She giggles madly, gasping, unable to draw breath or assemble syllables into anything resembling a word; when she tries, it is just the word ‘mutt’, repeated in fragments, over and over as he claims her.

He’s going to ruin her. He’s going to mark her and make her his. He’s going to sculpt her pussy into a perfect relief of his cock, and train her womb to birth his children. He drives himself further, faster, deeper; no other man will feel the pleasure he now feels, and she will never be as tight again as she was today. She wanted it. She taunted him. This is the natural result.

And through it all she moans, she screams. “Mutt. Mutt! Mutttttt! Come here, mutt. Closer.”

He leans forward, and she wraps her arms around his back as best she can. She bites his collarbone, licks the underside of his neck in the throes of some animalistic passion. Her legs wrap around his waist, and he does nothing to escape them.

Instead he goes further, and deeper, into the hottest and tightest parts of her core, until he can withstand her heat no longer.

Her whole body trembles as he mercilessly seeds her. He feels the nails of her toes digging into his skin as they curl. And yet, her face is absolutely triumphant as his cum pours into her womb.

She does not release him when he is drained. Instead, she continues to lap and nuzzle into his neck for a few minutes more before finally unbuckling her knees and setting him free.

“See, that’s what I was looking for,” she purrs. For some reason, he feels like he has lost to her — even though she was writhing helplessly beneath him mere moments ago. “Good boy. Hey, can you grab my phone for me?”

He grumbles; the repeated sex has made his muscles leaden. But he takes her phone from his nightstand, where she occasionally forgets it, and hands it to her.

She holds it out in front of her at arm’s length, angled at her hips. He hears the simulated click of a camera shutter.

A few seconds later, his own phone vibrates.

The message is, as expected, a picture: her pussy, pumped so absolutely full of his cum that it is spilling out onto the bedsheets. The caption is simply: “Guess whose?”

He is sure that the same message has just reached her sister and her mother. He is sure that tomorrow or even this evening, they will ‘drag it out of her’, and she will gleefully land him in a whole pot of trouble. It’s what she does. It’s what she was born to do.

“But geez, you really were trying to breed me, huh?” she muses, flopping back against the pillows. “Too bad for you. It’s the wrong time of month. My dangerous days start two weeks from now.”

She pauses, and trails a single hand lovingly down her belly. “Remember that, mutt.”