Liver Snaps Pt. 2

I pause on the porch to take a few deep breaths. Today’s going to be the day I finally put my foot down. I had a light workload and a good lunch. I’m practically bursting at the seams with willpower. There’s no way she can defang me this time.

 

I ease the door open and step into my house. Well, it’s my house an average of 4.5 days out of the week now. Last Friday it was the top secret underground base where the CIA locked up foreign spies for sexual brainwashing. The week before it was some kind of weird Jurassic Park-esque genetics lab. I don’t really know. I didn’t do any of the readings she’d prepared on whatever deranged scenario of hers we were acting out. I honestly kind of zoned out and didn’t pull it together until it was time to put all the props she’d made into the garage until the next time she felt the need to be impregnated by a genetically engineered super solider. Or whatever it was I was supposed to be under all that cardboard and bodypaint. Anyway, I step into what has managed to remain startlingly similar to my home since I left for work this morning. The parlor is untouched, not a single swing or sling to be found. The living room is clear as well, save for Sang’s usual clothes crumpled up on the couch. Maybe she’s scaling back on all the expensive fetishes. Maybe we’ll be able to do it, have dinner, and get to bed without having to remodel half the house today…

 

“WELCOME HOME MASTER~!!!”

 

A greeting that makes the staff at the yakitori place look like mutes splits my ears and nearly makes me jump out of my shoes. Sang somehow managed to get the drop on me. She’s standing behind me, wearing her signature “I was ready to go three hours ago and I’ve been edging all this time”-smile and-

 

Oh HOT DAMN.

 

-and a maid outfit. A sexy maid outfit. An OBSCENE maid outfit. The kind of maid outfit that would get an actual maid jailed for public indecency if she was dumb enough to wear it to work. The frill-edged ivory apron that doesn’t even reach halfway to her knees is arguably the only force for modesty in the ensemble-

 

No wait. I was going to say something important today. Something…God that skirt is so short it may as well not even be there. Those floss-thin bottoms are on full display. As is the equally revealing top she has on beneath a blouse that’s hardly more than a lace collar…

 

No no, you’re supposed to be remembering something important right now. Money! That’s right. I need to tell her to stop turning all our money into sexercise equipment. Man her legs look good in those stockings. The wrist cuffs are really cute too.

 

“Hey Hon.”

 

“Hey Sang.”

 

Say it now you dope.

 

“How was your day?”

 

“It’s getting better. Maid and master fantasy today?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Say it!

 

“Can I get an estimate on what the bill will end up being this time? Just so I know how much overtime I’ll have to put in?”

 

You spineless twerp.

 

“Nothing. I was chatting with Maria earlier and she let me have this outfit for free. Said it was getting to be too tame for her.”

 

“Maria? The sweet little kikimora who volunteers at the elementary school?”

 

“That’s her.”

 

“aaaaaand just like that the last vestiges of my innocence shatter like a cheap Christmas ornament.”

 

“It was holding you back anyway. Now go sit down and act regal.”

 

“…yeah okay.”

 

Sang teeters back into the kitchen, having evident difficulty balancing on her thick-soled boots, and I shuffle into the living room. I grope for something to do to make myself look more master-y than just sitting in my recliner with the paper. Maybe I should buy a smoking jacket. Wait what the hell am I thinking, I’m supposed to be cutting costs!

 

“Ara ara~ Master must be thirsty after working so hard today.” Sang comes teetering back in, a tray bearing a thrift store tea cup, a bottle of lipton, and a plate of Lorna Doones on it. I wince. She sounds really silly talking like that. Still, I can hardly complain as she sets the tray down on the coffee table and starts unscrewing the cap on the bottle of iced tea. I usually prefer coffee, but I could really do with a cool drink right-oh crap.

 

Her tails are doing that thing again. That thing when they all twist and curl around each other. That thing she can’t help but do with them when she’s full to the brim with smug self-satisfaction over something she feels clever about. And the only time she ever feels clever is when she’s about to do something that’ll turn my hair white.

 

“Oopsie~”

 

I’ve just barely processed the fact that I’m about to be on the receiving end of another one of her pranks when she springs into action. She swings the newly uncapped bottle over the tray, right past the tea cup, and upends it over my lap.

 

“OHSWEETLORDOFMERCYTHAT’SCOLDERTHANAWITCH’STIT!!”

 

Eight ounces of cold fluid on the groin later, we’re both on out feet. I’m in earnest shock over what just happened, while Sang has her hands over her very obviously-grinning mouth in a show of mock anguish and her tails are thrashing and twisting about like they’re trying to throttle each other.

 

“Oh no, I’ve spilled Master’s tea, now he’ll have to punish me!”

 

She’s already turning around to face that maddeningly perfect ass toward me. She wants her usual spanking.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

She rolls her eyes at me, like I’m the one who’s acting weird.

 

“Well -obviously- the maid has to screw up before her master can punish her.”

 

“You could have PRETENDED to spill tea on me you daft bitch! Do you want to get ants? Because this is how you get ants.”

 

She shrugs.

 

“It wouldn’t have been real.”

 

“NONE OF THIS IS REAL! YOU WORK AT SEVEN ELEVEN!”

 

“So…?”

 

“So can’t we ever just have, like, normal sex, that doesn’t involve wrecking up the place?”

 

“Can’t you ever just like, stop being such a faggot and beat me like a red-headed step child?”

 

“You -are- a red-headed step child.”

 

“Then -why- are you having such a hard time with this? Are you sick or something?”

 

She bends over further, grinning at me between her legs, and sticks her tongue out. That tears it. If this bitch wants to play rough, we’re going to play rough. I turn away from her and make for the end table. There has to be at least one of what I’m looking for stashed away in there. Horny little creep has stashes all over the damn house…

 

Ah, here we go. A wireless vibrator. One of the good models too. I have no idea what makes it so good, but the little bastard nearly ate up a whole C-note. It’s actually rather poetic that I’m about to use it to lay down the law on her.

 

“What on earth are you doing over there? You’ve got a clumsy maid to punish!” Sang straightens up and huffs at me, upset that I’m not following the plan she had laid out for me.

 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to stand up.” I put on my best ‘bossy’ voice and put my hands on my hips. Sang is taken aback by my change in tone, then realizes I’m playing along with her fantasy, and that familiar dirty smirk reappears on her face.

 

“Of course, Master.” She replies in a quaking voice before placing her hands on her knees and thrusting her rear out at me with evident relish, anticipating the lash of pleasing pain that she’s become so thoroughly addicted to. The little tart has absolutely no idea what she’s actually gotten herself into. I pull her borderline-nonexistent panties down to her knees, but not before giving them a sharp upward tug to dig them into her cherry-red vulva. A few of her equally red tails take advantage of my closeness to curl loosely around my wrist and anything else they can reach. Doesn’t matter what scenario she’s concocted, she can’t fight that hard-coded urge all kitsune have to bundle their lovers up in their tails. Unfortunately, soaked to the skin as I am, I’m not feeling nearly as cuddly as she is. I place the glossy egg of the vibrator’s business end against her vulva and let the trickle of arousal coming out of her lubricate it. Her tall, tufted ears give a curious twitch at the sensation. She’s not as furniture-ruining wet as she’s capable of getting, but it’s enough that I’m able to push the vibe into her as deep as it will go with precious little resistance. She starts and makes a sound that’s somewhere between a confused mewl and a moan of pleasured approval.

 

“W-what are you doing back there honey?” she stutters at me over her shoulder.

 

I respond by way of flicking the dial on the remote all the way up to maximum. This time she screams and drops to her knees, quaking under a jolt of pleasure she was completely unprepared for. I leave it running and take my sweet time stripping out of the clothes she’s just dirtied and drop them to the floor. Once they’re all accounted for, I turn the vibe back off and wait for her to recover. It takes her a while, but when she does I notice she’s been drooling. She must have gotten pretty close.

 

“More,” she pleads shakily, “Just a little bit more.”

 

Her hand starts to stray down between her legs but I catch her before she can start touching herself.

 

“I didn’t give you permission to do that either.”

 

She responds by way of a whimper and a nod, tails tucking between her legs.

 

“Get to work.” I order her, pointing at the tea-soaked pants and shirt on the floor.

 

“Work?”

 

I roll my eyes at her.

 

“You got them dirty, -obviously- you’re going to clean them, and you’re going to be quick about it aren’t you?”

 

“Y-yes! Of course Master!” she cries with a few panicked nods, climbing clumsily to her feet and snatching the clothes from the floor.

 

Sang starts moving down the hall toward the laundry room, even slower than before now that her trembling arousal is making the imbalanced gait of her footwear even worse. Too slow in fact. I click the vibrator up a few notches and watch with amusement as she yelps and drops the bundle of clothing on the floor.

 

“What’s taking you so long?” I shout down the hall at her.

 

Sang groans and starts picking the soiled garments from the floor, visibly fighting to stay upright in spite of the stimulation she’s being subjected to. She actually does a respectable job, retrieving them from the floor with slightly greater alacrity than I would have expected. I reward her by dialing the vibe back to its lowest setting and letting her make it the rest of the way to the laundry room before I follow her down and start looking for my next excuse to torment her.

 

I find one almost immediately. She didn’t put fabric softener in with the clothes. The dial clicks all the way up to eight and then back down to one in the space of a few seconds. She screeches and looks over at me in surprise, ears pressed against the back of her head.

 

“Fabric softener.”

 

She nods and reaches toward the bottle on top of the machine. Wrong move. I give her another little jolt, this time turning it all the way up to max before I turn it back down. She hardly makes any noise this time, but her tails twist around her legs in sudden shock.

 

“W-wha?” she slurs meekly.

 

“Not that stuff. Use the good stuff.” I point up to the top shelf of the cabinet, where the bottle of spring meadow-scented stuff is.

 

“B-but,” she starts, thighs rubbing together automatically in response to the frustratingly weak stimulus the vibrator inside her delivers on its lowest setting.

 

“But what?”

 

She remains silent for a moment, biting her lip, before she acquiesces. She straightens up with evident reluctance, trembling head to toe, and stands up on her tiptoes to retrieve the fabric softener. The dial clicks up to two. She gasps. I click it up another notch as she crosses the room, and she moans and doubles over mid-stride. She’s determined though, and manages to take the last few steps to the machine, where she haphazardly dumps a few glugs of the fragrant liquid over my clothes as I continue to increase the intensity of the vibrations. The dial is back at nine once she finally slams the washer door shut and sets it to cold water wash.

 

“OKAY.” She declares breathlessly as her tortured arousal starts to soak into her stockings, “I d-did it, please-unnf.”

 

“Please what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

 

“P-please turn it <gasp> turn it ahh~”

 

“Up? Turn it up? But of course.”

 

“NOOooo~” she cries out in delighted anguish as the dial clicks up to ten and she collapses to the ground, thrashing and gasping through a long-awaited and much protracted orgasm. Her back arches and her tails twist into a taught furry bundle. Her nails dig into the carpet. I leave the vibe running for a bit to really draw it out before I finally let up on her. She lies limp for a while before shakily straightening up.

 

“That was mean, Master,” she sniffles, eyes watering, “I-I wanted you to make me cum.”

 

Mean? What’s mean is saying something like that, looking at me like that, while wearing a whorish pastiche of a maid outfit.  You could probably use me as a diamond-cutter right now. I take my time in walking over to her, letting her drool for a while before I plant my hand on her head, careful to keep it just a hair’s breadth away from either of her ears. She rolls her head left and right, ears twitching in frustration, eager for my touch, but I manage to keep up with her and completely stymie her efforts to get her ears rubbed.

 

“You’re going to have to work for it.” I inform her before pulling her toward my crotch.

 

She opens her mouth to accept me without hesitation and starts working her tongue desperately. Giving head has never really been her forte, but the overwhelming enthusiasm she has worked up today makes up for her clumsy technique. After a few moments of frantic but aimless fellating, her tongue chances upon the underside of my glans and I decide that it’s time to reward her. I let go of her head and ever-so-gently pinch the tip of one of her ears, rolling it between my fingers. The stereotype is that her kind likes it when you touch the base of their ears, but over time I’ve found that Sang’s sweet spot is the tip of the ear. The base of the ear makes her coo, sure, but the tip makes her squirm.

 

Sang shivers as she finally gets her reward, looking up at me, doe-eyed. She ceases her efforts to please me for a few seconds to enjoy the attention to her ears and collect herself, then starts again with renewed focus. Her head bobs down low, as low as she can, until I’m poking down into her throat. She holds me there for as long as she can, swabbing her tongue over as much of my length as it can reach. She stops every so often to gulp greedily, sucking down precum and coaxing out more at the same time. One of her hands slides up my leg to gently cradle me, while the other finds its way to her already soaked sex to start noisily bringing her toward another orgasm. Oh no, that won’t do at all.

 

*SCHLICK*

 

An obscene slurp comes from Sang’s lips as I push her off of me, followed by a confused whine as I grab both of her hands and hold them over her head.

 

“You get off when I say, and not a moment before.”

 

“Yes Master.” She murmers

 

“Go upstairs and get ready.” I order her.

 

“Of course, Master.”

 

Can’t have her getting too big for her string panties. Well, that, and also the fact that I’m so close to blowing my load right now that a stern look could probably finish me off.

 

—

 

“I’m ready master~” Sang sings at me as she finishes stripping. She’s set aside everything she had on except for her shoes and stockings, her wrist cuffs, and her collar. Her favored rope is coiled at the foot of the bed, waiting for me. Sang folds her arms into the small of her back and smiles patiently.

 

Okay, I know what to do here. I read that book she gave me. Skimmed. I skimmed the book. Pretty thoroughly though. Okay, uh, rope over the neck.

 

“Nnnn~”

 

 Three knots, then between the legs.

 

“Mmmph…”

 

Around the tails. Stitch up the back. Hook it when you get to the neck, then get the hands.

 

“Ohhh…”

 

Well, that looks pretty good. Good enough anyway. Sang is now immobilized from the waist up, a chain of diamonds rendered in nylon rope holding her arms in place in the small of her back and digging into her drooling vulva. Her tails are still free to move however, and she takes immediate advantage of this, straining the fluffy appendages to their limit trying to pull me closer to her.

 

“Comfy?”

 

“Almost.” She pants, “I’ve got a little itch right here.”

 

She tilts her head to the right and wiggles her ear.

 

“Can you scratch it for me, Master?”

 

I can’t help but smirk. I saw that one coming a mile away.

 

“Of course.”

 

I slide my hand up her neck, over her cheek, up to the fuzzy tip of her ear, and give it a gentle pull. I tighten my grip on her and she closes her eyes and lets out a noise between a whine and a whimper. She’s been waiting for this all night; a good thorough ear-rub, rougher than you’d think was necessary but gentle enough not to leave her sore.

 

“MMMMMMMMmmm~”

 

Sang bites her lip and rocks gently back and forth under my hand. If she wasn’t trying so hard to play the submissive housemaid right now there’d be only one word coming from her: more. I start rolling the tips of both her ears between my fingers, over and over again this time, reaching down every so often to give the rest a gentle scratch. Her knees quake.

 

“That’s…nnnnn…that’s”

 

“Yes?”

 

“That feels so GOOD, Master. So very, very good.”

 

She lets her tongue hang out and runs it over her lips as she revels in the attention being given to her ears. I keep rubbing her ears, getting just a hair rougher each time, until the little vulpine redhead is cross-eyed with delight and scarcely able to stand.

 

“Turn around.” I whisper to her.

 

Sang does a little pirouette, facing her bushy cluster of crimson tails toward me, holding them up high to show off the taut rope wedged between the firm globes of her ass. I circle my arms around her waist and pull her into a hug, enjoying the delicate touch of her fur, but not for too long before I return to playing with her ears. I free up one hand to ease her head back beneath my chin and blow gently into one of her ears. She shivers. I nip along the edge and bite down on the tip. She whimpers, but rather than flinching away, she nestles even closer to me.

 

“You’ve been very bad today.” I whisper to her, “Your punishment isn’t over yet. Bend over.”

 

Sang reluctantly draws away from me and rests her torso on the bed. She flips her tails up over her back, exposing her tortured snatch and buttocks in all their fuckable glory. I plant one hand on her ample rear; she flinches, having been expecting a swift spank. Instead I squeeze and fondle at her while slowly pulling the rope tighter and tighter, pressing it into her soaking cunt, wiggling it back and forth to tease her clitoris. The tension starts to melt out of her, which means it’s just the right time to put a bright red handprint on her ass.

 

*CRACK*

 

Sang screams and shimmies instinctively across the bed, until I catch her by the base of her tails and hold her in place. A sharp tug on the rope crushing her clit makes her cry out again, but she remains still.

 

“We’re not done yet.”

 

A pathetic whine is her only response.

 

“You’re getting ten. That’s the punishment for spilling tea. Keep count for me.”

 

Ten’s a good number I guess. Nice and round at least.

 

*CRACK*

 

“One.”

 

*CRACK*

 

“T-two.”

 

*CRACK*

 

“NNNNnnn~”

 

“If you lose count, I’m going to have to start over.”

 

“AH! THREE! THREETHREETHREETHR-“

 

*CRACK*

 

“AAHHHHHNNN~”

 

“What was that?”

 

“Eh, oh, I-.”

 

*CRACK*

 

I lean down and whisper into her ear.

 

“That’s one.”

 

—

 

“Ahgversit ahmna ergisht…”

 

*CRACK*

 

“AHH~”

 

Sang’s loss of all math skills preceded a total loss of her grip on the English language. She then began developing a new language all her own, based around what appears to be a combination of slurred latin and bird calls.

 

*CRACK*

 

“ZEMSIFFFARAL!”

 

And also that noise my car has been making.

 

“nnnf…mmmm….”

 

Sang huffs and whimpers in frustration, wiggling her hips back and forth. We’ve been at this for what feels like hours. She’s been dribbling her arousal down her thighs for almost the entire time. It’s actually pooling on the floor between her feet now, and every breath I take is tainted with the smell of a kitsune in heat.

 

“…m…master…”

 

“Hmmm? Did you say something?”

 

“Please, no more…I-I need it. So bad. I’m so wet. Please. Give it to me.”

 

Oh thank god. My arm is killing me and I’m so hot to trot I can’t even remember where I am or what day it is.

 

“Well, I suppose I can let your failings slide just this once.”

 

“Thank you master. Thank you so much.”

 

I give her crimson-stained buttocks a long-overdue reprieve and push the length of rope covering her pussy off to the side. I didn’t think it would was possible, but the intoxicating scent of in-the-name-of-all-that’s-holy-please-breed-me gets even stronger. There’s no time for any foreplay or teasing here. If I’m not inside her in the next five seconds I will literally die. I drive myself into her as far as I can get in one thrust. Her excessively slicked passage welcomes me with no resistance, then closes around me like a vice. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the degree of muscle control kitsunes have. Her insides knead at me with ferocious purpose; if I just held her like this for a while and let her take her pleasure she could easily get the both of us off. Alas, I hardly have the patience for that, and I doubt she does either. I lean over her for balance and start thrusting into her, trying to find some rhythm that matches the movements of her grasping and sucking walls. I’m just getting into it when she suddenly regains her basic language skills and cries out.

 

“Yes!” she screeches, arching her back, “Fuck my slutty fox box!”

 

…Fox box? Did she actually just say that? OUT LOUD?

 

“Hold on for just a moment.”

 

I decouple and glance around the room. Horridly elaborate roleplaying with plots that make those dirty paperbacks they sell at the grocery store look well written is one thing, but ‘fox box’? That ain’t gonna fly. Now, where did we put it last? Nightstand, bottom drawer probably. That’s where things of that nature tend to end up.

 

“Here we go.”

 

I retrieve the ball gag from its hiding place, walk back in front of Sang, and silence her before she has a chance to resist.

 

“Wha-mmph mmm-hmm hm!”*

 

“You just lost your talking privileges for the rest of the night.”

 

“Grrhhrph mmm-hrrr!”**

 

“In fact, I might not ever let you speak again.”

 

“MMfffrrrkhhrr Mmpphh!”***

 

*”Gadzooks! What on earth are you doing sir?”

**”I take exception to this decision, though I can see it is the product of much consideration on your part!”

***”You’re a fucking asshole!”

 

With the threat of boner-killing porno dialogue put to rest, I’m now free to get back on track. Erection? Check. Kitsune with her head on the pillow and her ass in the air? Check. Let’s roll.

 

I lean over Sang and take a moment to nibble on her neck before I slide back into her folds. She’s desperate AND annoyed now, so it’s a much, shall we say, rougher experience. She uses every bit of mobility her disadvantaged position allows her to try and wring and orgasm out of me. Rocking back and forth in time with me, clenching and squeezing as tightly as she can, teasing at anything within her tails’ reach. The mind-clouding haze that came with her increasingly desperate need to cum has been replaced by a sharp-witted obsession with getting there. One tail is curled around my sack, kneading delicately, another whips around my base to stroke me for a few seconds each time I pull out, and a third looks to be occupied entirely with tickling her clit. Bad girl, seems she’s forgotten who’s running the show here. On my next stroke I pull all the way out, too her vaguely audible dismay, and place my head into the entrance of her anus. Starteled, her head jerks up and her ass cheeks clamp around my head, keenly aware of what was going to happen. I grab both of her ass cheeks and spread them apart, her muscles fighting against me as I lean my weight into her pink hole and begin to push myself into her. Her muffled moans grow while my girth slips further and further into her, her own lewd arousal making the perfect lubricant. Her kicking feet only make the process easier for me to finally plant the whole of my girth into her ass. Fits like a glove. She shrieks into her gag, but the way she relaxes to welcome me and then quickly flexes to keep me inside her reveals that she was 100% ready for assplay. Pervert’s always ready for assplay. Got plugs the size of tangerines with motors in them that could power a small vehicle. She was ready, believe me. But there’s one thing she’s never ready for.

 

Sang feels me prodding at her side and allows me to roll her out of doggystyle and onto her back. Ankles resting on my shoulders, she eyes me with the hunger of a restrained animal, silently begging me to keep going. I oblige, and her eyes roll back in bliss. Her head slumps back to rest on the bed as she surrenders to the pleasure of having her rear violated. So lost in the perverse sensation is she that she doesn’t notice me plucking the shoes and stockings off her feet until they’re already on the floor.

 

“Aroo?” she manages to murmur out a muffled inquiry before my lips make contact with her sole and her hair stands on end in surprise.

 

“MHHHHHHHMMM!”

 

Sang glares at me and squirms against her bonds. For all her perversions, one thing that never fails to fluster her is having her feet played with. She’s a bit sensitive there, and more than a bit embarrassed about it. The way she tells it, it’s not an erotic pleasure she feels from attention to her feet, but rather something so attention-grabbing that it’s impossible to tune out pleasure from anywhere else, meaning it’s impossible to reign in your orgasm. Which suits my purposes just fine. Licking her arches, sucking on her toes, nipping at her heels, just about everything elicits crossed eyes and muffled cries from the maid-cum-fuckdoll lying on the bed. The death-glare she’s sending my way says she’s mad at me, but the all over beet-red blush and the spastic, needy clenching of her walls says she’s on the brink of climax. The slick grip her hot insides have on me gets tighter after she decides to use the last of her will to try and pull her feet away from me. It doesn’t work, but drawing her knees closer to her chest does further expose her sticky, twitching vulva. A tempting target for further teasing. I reach down and circle my thumb around her clit a few times, to give her a moment to brace herself. Which she completely squanders. My thumb presses down on her most sensitive spot and she seizes up into an orgasm. She wails loud enough that I’m worried the neighbors might hear in spite of her gag. She tightens up considerably, which puts me just a moment behind her. Then she starts twitching, and that finishes me. I manage to maintain just enough motor control to lean down and give the writhing kitsune beneath me a little love bite on the neck before the red hot eruption building in me reaches its head and I’m reduced to as sorry a state as Sang is. What must only be a minute or so manages to drag on into infinity as we lay in each other’s shaky embrace. The sensation of being filled with rope after sticky rope turns Sang’s first orgasm into several more, and she begins squirting copiously, soaking the both of us and the bedspread beneath with steaming hot femcum and filling the air with the shameful scent of a thoroughly satisfied kitsune.

 

Sang somehow manages to be the first one to recover. She bumps her still-gagged mouth against me and gives me a pointed look. She wants a kiss. The ball gag comes off, trailing strings of saliva behind it, and I immediately get an extended, gulping smooch that manages to make up for the fact that Sang hasn’t gotten a kiss all day. And then some. If she had full use of her hands she’d probably just hold me and run her tongue around my mouth until I lost consciousness. Luckily she’s quite immobile, and I can pull away once I start seeing stars.

 

“You’re a bully, you know that?” she asks with a weak smile.

 

“Oh you don’t know the half of it.” I grin, pulling out of her and quickly returning to the drawer.

 

Sang yelps in surprise at the sudden decoupling.

 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“Just gotta grab something real quick.”

 

“W-what do you need out of there -now-?”

 

“THIS.”

 

Sang pales at the sight of the glossy, wide-gauge plug I hold up.

 

“Okay, hold on now, we jus-“

 

“What’s the matter? You couldn’t get enough of this last week. Hell, you were begging for it every night after you first bought it.”

 

“B-but we both just got off, shouldn’t we take a moment to-“

 

“You’re getting awfully contradictory for a maid.”

 

Sang finally realizes that there’s no talking her way out of this and panics. Bound as she is, she can’t push herself up off the bed to flee, and instead tries to roll, shimmy, and worm her way to the edge. Admirable effort, but rather futile, and she looks absolutely ridiculous to boot.

 

“C’mere. Take it like a woman.”

 

I manage to catch her while her ass is in the air and snag the base of her tails to hold her still. The plug slides into her well-fucked rear with almost no effort, lubricated by the results of our previous tryst. Sang deflates with a stuttering sigh as its base comes to rest flush with her skin, sealing the creamy mess inside her.

 

“Do you want me to send you back to the maid agency?” I ask her, trying my damndest to sound regal but feeling like an idiot.

 

Sang rolls over to face me, almost-genuine fear written on her face.

 

“No Master. Please don’t send me back.” She whimpers, crocodile tears mixing with the real ones left over from her spanking.

 

I fold my arms and give her a look.

 

“You know what to do.”

 

I really hope she does know what to do, because I didn’t really have any particular goal in mind when I did this. Luckily, she does.

 

“Please tease me some more Master.” She requests meekly, spreading her legs.

 

I feel a filthy grin tugging at my face and can’t be bothered to suppress it. Sang makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a whine as my lips make contact with her swollen bud. She’s still puffed up and slick as all hell from her last orgasm, making my job that much easier. No foreplay is called for, just a vicious assault on each and every weak point within tongue’s reach. Still sensitive from the mind-rattling orgasm of a few moment’s past, it doesn’t take long before her legs are seizing up, hugging my face against her sex in a wordless plea for release. It doesn’t take much longer after that before she’s quaking and muttering various raunchy euphemisms for release as her sticky mirth dribbles down her vulva. Panting, she tries to speak, but I cut her off by immediately setting her on the path to another orgasm. And another. And another. By the time I finally get tired she’s ceased being a kitsune and become a catatonic heap of sweat-soaked flesh and fur, squirting little jets of mirth every few seconds as she begs for me to stop.

 

“That’ll teach you to…uh…what was it you did to me again?”

 

Sang is too occupied with laying back, staring at the ceiling and giving an occasional shiver to answer, so I find myself a seat and take her hand in mine. Eventually she recovers enough to speak.

 

“Tea. I spilled tea on you.”

 

“Oh right. Well, serves ya right then. I ought to send you right back to the maid agency.”

 

Sang chuckles.

 

“You’re a lot more fun when you get into your role.”

 

“You’re a pain in the neck no matter what you’re doing.”

 

“Bitch, you know you love it.” She says in a hollow show of defiance, before that familiar look of anxious desire returns to her face and she tucks her head under my chin.

 

“Gimme headpats.” She mumbles into my neck

 

I start to run my hand over her head and down the back of her neck, running my fingers through her sweat-matted hair. I leave her ears alone now; she’s too drained for any more of that.

 

“Do you know what time it is?”

 

“Half past six.”

 

“My show’s starting soon.”

 

“We ought to shower and clean up a little.”

 

Sang sighs.

 

“Yeaaaaaah I gueeeeeesssss…”

 

She rolls over to give me access to the knots holding her arms in place. Once she’s untied she rolls onto her side and waves me off toward the bathroom.

 

“Give me just a little longer to rest.”

 

‘Just a little longer’ indeed. She’ll tuck herself in for a nap if I let her. Once I’m in the bathroom I set out a pair of clean towels and turn the knob on the shower to as hot as it goes. If the fates are on our side it shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes before the water is just lukewarm enough to not send shivers down your spine when you stand under it. Sang is right where I left her when I return. She’s already starting to doze, but the way her ears swivel to track my movements lets me know she’s still awake.

 

“We can’t just lounge around in here you know.” I tell her, already searching for somewhere to make myself comfortable.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Sang sighs, not budging an inch.

 

“We’re going to have to get up in a bit and shower.” I remind her, lying down and reaching out to administer a few lazy pets.

 

“Yup…” Sang fidgets a bit and tucks her tails in closer to her chest.

 

“Yup.”

 

“Mmmhhhmmm…”

 

Neither one of us really feels like doing much of anything, but once wisps of steam start curling out from the bathroom we really have no excuse for our sloth.

 

“Alright, come on.”

 

“Carry me.”

 

“I’m not carrying you.”

 

“Carry meeeee.”

 

“How about I drag you instead?”

 

“Oh fine.”

 

Sang hustles to her feet and clings to me all the way into the shower stall. Scouring ourselves of the mess we made during sex only takes about 10 minutes, and taking the plug out another 2, but as usual Sang has to have each and every one of her tails shampooed, conditioned, brushed, dried, and fluffed before she’ll get out of the bathroom.

 

“Alright. I’m clean, you’re clean, and the laundry isn’t going anywhere. Let’s watch TV.”

 

The trip from the bedroom to the living room takes far longer than normal, due in no small part to the fact that Sang actually blocked the door and refused to budge until I carried her downstairs, getting cuddled every step of the way. Having a fluffy tail wrapped around each leg can really make stairs into quite an obstacle. She stays stuck to me after I ease the both of us onto the couch, and after I fish the remote out of the end table’s drawer and put on her show. I don’t voice any complaints. She’s never said anything, but I get the sense that this little cuddle session is something she really needs in the aftermath of whatever you want to call what we just did. She always looks, well, smaller somehow. Smaller and more fragile, as if a light wind might break her. It’s hard -not- to just want to hold her when she’s in such a state.

 

“Thanks” she says quietly.

 

Her face stays buried in my neck as the opening credits roll on. Most of her attention seems to be focused on nuzzling against me; only occasionally does she steal a glance at the screen out of the corner of her eye. During the first segment, she trembles every so often and snuggles in a little closer. She starts to come out of her cuddle-funk during the commercial break, and by the second segment she’s back to sitting up straight and watching her program attentively.

 

*groooooaarrrr*

 

Sang’s stomach growls. She looks up at me and smiles shyly.

 

“About time for dinner, isn’t it?”

 

“Sure, I could eat.”

 

“Let’s order a pizza.”

 

“We had pizza this week already.”

 

“How about Happy Wok then?”

 

“Only if I can have sweet and sour pork.”

 

Sang wrinkles her nose.

 

“You have no taste.”

 

“Says the woman who eats liverwurst right out of the container.”

 

“It’s good. It doesn’t need anything else.”

 

“I’m not even going to respond to that.”

 

“Whatever. Just get an order of scallion pancakes.”

 

Sang releases me, somewhat reluctantly, and allows me to get to the phone. I thumb through the worn-edged takeout menu while I wait for them to pick up and take a glance back at Sang. She’s not smiling, just absently staring at the TV, but somehow she manages to look happy. Giddy. Ecstatic even. She’s got a glow to her. If all this fuss is what makes her look like that, maybe I can live with it after all.

 

—

 

“Hey Sang, I’m home!”

 

“Hey babe.”

 

“…Why are you wearing a straight-jacket?”

 

“Because I’m the deranged and unstable black sheep daughter of a wealthy family whose been put away in an asylum to spare her parents the embarrassment and expense of an insane child, and you’re the horny, unscrupulous doctor who uses her continuously bound and drug-addled state as an easy way to vent all your depraved sexual urges, knowing full well that no one will believe anything she says even if she does remember what you do to her.”

 

Sang’s eyes glaze over slightly and a bit of drool appears at the corner of her mouth as she describes her newest fantasy.

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“…What the HELL is the MATTER with you?!”

 

“A LOT probably, but I did the math and it’s cheaper for you to just indulge me than it is to send me to psychotherapy, so stop being such a little bitch and put on your lab coat.”