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Playful Kitties and Scarves	By : megadeth425 Category: Pokemon > Het - Male/Female Views: 3671 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Playful Kitties and Scarves
- 1
Because no, I haven't yet become tired of writing this pairing. And I don't think I will any time soon. Usual fare; no need to read the previous fics about them, but it wouldn't hurt.

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"'Come on, you aren't so tough,' Clair said defiantly, though a little tremble in her voice betrayed her attempts at keeping her cool, and the sharp breath that she took in after the words finished was shaky. The bluenette shut her eyes, snarling a little with a bizarrely inhuman tone as her body tried its hardest to stay still. The firm grip of calloused hands seemed a vapor as, despite their size and strength, there was a certain looseness to them. She could hardly tell where they were, either because of her partner's speed, or the slow breakdown of her awareness.

"Bruno was no rookie, though. He saw how her body pushed up against him and how her lower lip faded between her teeth. But, just to oblige her, his next thrust was a little harder, and losing himself in the moment, he hadn't realized it was so strong that the thumping sound against the wall grew louder. He was too absorbed in the dragon trainer, flush against him with her back to the wall, holding onto what little sense of pride she still could. She was stubborn and headstrong, just like her cousin, except with an even deeper sense of pride. She made herself to be a conquest, an indomitable spirit that couldn't accept anything below the best. Even then, as his powerful thrusts--ah! Oh, deeper!"

Shauntal, whose eyes shut and body rose and squirmed, stopped reading a moment. The hand holding the notebook stretched out and her legs wriggled a little, pantyhose-clad feet running along the sides of fellow elite Grimsley, whose head was buried beneath her purple dress and doing such wonderful things to her. They were a peculiar couple; the erotica writer and her biggest fan. Their idea of a night in involved her writing stories during sex, and maybe a movie after they were done. Neither was very apprehensive about trying new things, especially when she needed some hands-on research for her stories. They had struck a good balance, helped by the fact that both enjoyed what they did thoroughly.

Before Grimsley could oblige and go any deeper, though, the doorbell rang. The two lovers both stopped looked panicked at the door, the book falling out of Shauntal's hands and onto her exposed breasts.
“Uh, you should get that,” Shauntal said. “Your house, and you're the more presentable of us.” She was talking about the torn pantyhose, the hitched-up skirt, her messy purple bob cut, and the fact her breasts were out of the top of her dress.

“Oh, the price of looking so good,” he said wryly with the hint of some foreign, vampire-sounding accent. He threw his yellow scarf, which had gone out of place from his position between her legs, back over his shoulders and headed out of the bedroom.

“Don't flatter yourself,” she called back. “There's nothing dignified about your hair!” Settling back into the bed, she groaned. Their sex was rarely interrupted, but when it was, it always seemed to be at the worst possible time. Grimsley had her on the brink, and by the time he shooed away whichever visitor or important mail or eager challenger showed up uninvited and unannounced at his door, she'd be miles away from what was imminent release. She could have continued reading and fingered herself, but it wasn't the same. Besides, she had never been able to get off to her own writing, written in a voice she understood too intimately, structured as her thoughts were. A cruel misfortune, unable to enjoy her own art.

Only through another could she enjoy it. Acting out the very scenes she'd written, or even forming new ideas from her adventures in the bedroom, were cathartic and gave her not only a new appreciation for her work, but the greatest incentive imaginable. For the better part of a year, she was more productive and her quality shot up because nothing drove her to write like the expectation that once she was done, Grimsley would not only enjoy it, but show her how much he did by treating her body.

When he returned about five agonizing minutes later, he held two large boxes, tucked under each arm. “The costumes came in for the party tomorrow.” He stood in the doorway for a moment, holding the boxes up.

Shauntal tackled him to the ground, letting the boxes fall onto the carpeted floor with dull thuds. “Forget the costumes!” she shouted, tugging at his pants. “They can wait until I'm done with you."

........................................................................

It wasn't until the next afternoon that they got around to trying on the costumes. Castelia City's gym leader Burgh was throwing a costume party in the Unova league's ballroom. To make things interesting, Shauntal and Grimsley agreed they would choose the other's costumes and keep them secret until the day of. After getting their measurements, custom orders were sent to a costume shop in Driftveil.

Grimsley went first, changing in the bathroom so that it would be a surprise to both of them how it fit. When the door opened, Shauntal broke into a laughing fit, though the dark trainer was far less pleased. He was a tall man of regal bearing, bright blue eyes piercing and dark blue hair swept up in some strange style where the sides formed wing-like shapes, and bangs formed a triangle-shaped fringe that went down before tapering off midway down his nose. His usual clothes, an expensive suit with the colours of a roulette table, were replaced by a black tuxedo and a frilly white shirt, still expensive but more monochrome. His face was paler, radiant blue eyes hidden by red contact lenses. Topping it all off was a cape draped from his shoulders, black on the outside and bright red velvet on the inside, the colour of blood.

“That looks great!” Shauntal shouted, laughter tearing at her voice as she sat on the edge of the bed and tried desperately to keep from falling over.

“A vampire.”

“Not just any vampire, a cheesy movie vampire.” He scowled at her, but that only revealed the fake fangs he'd put in, sending Shauntal's fit deeper, the writer actually falling over as she slammed her fist on the ground.

“Why don't you go change,” he spat, his difficulty in speaking with the fake teeth in only helping his accent in making his dark, velvet voice sound vampiric.

“Come on, it's funny. At least you aren't going shirtless and covered in body glitter." Clearly imagining what that would look like, Shauntal laughed even harder, practically writhing on the floor as she shouted out something incomprehensible about hearing Caitlin was planning on going as Buffy and that he'd best avoid her.

The only appropriate reaction he could think of was to flutter his cape in dismay, but that would probably fuel her laughter, so instead he merely stood over his laughing girlfriend, trying to keep things serious until she was finished. It took a fair bit longer than his patience would have liked, but finally she stood up, hair rustled and making her look a bit too appealing for the situation. He pointed at the bathroom and said sternly, “Go change. And be glad I didn't send you as a Ghostbuster or something.”

Still giggly, Shauntal disappeared into the bathroom and took a fair while longer to come out than he did. That didn't surprise him very much; she always took so much longer to get dressed than he did. When she came out, though, it seemed well worth the wait.

Grimsley's costume was met with laughter, but he couldn't muster nearly the same reaction to hers. What she wore amounted largely to her usual clothes, but black. Black pantyhose led up to a black dress with pleated skirt and a fair amount of exposed cleavage. Where usually she wore black gloves, she had large black paws, like a cat's, that would have made using her hands a fair bit inconvenient. A somewhat rigid black tail dangled from her dress, swaying with every motion she made. Her large black shawl that looked more than a little absurd was replaced with a red collar with an oversized bell on it that rang a little as she moved. Some streaks of make-up resembled whiskers, in rows along her cheeks. Finally, a pair of black cat ears poked up from her purple hair.

Shauntal had laughed.

Grimsley almost drooled.

If he was going for joke as well, it failed. His eyes looked over every inch of her in what was mostly her usual clothes given a dye job, and he couldn't find anything that evoked amusement. It evoked a great many things, but not that.

“You look incredible,” he said. “I guess that backfired.” Seemingly feeding into it, she reached up to scratch her face, resulting in one of the paw gloves rubbing against her face, a very feline gesture. It made her boyfriend shut his eyes and cringe a little. “Damn it, damn it. That's not how this was supposed to happen.” Another gesture, this time pushing her glasses up her nose, and something usually adorable drove him wild.

“I'm sorry your attempt at humiliating me was so poorly thought out,” she said plainly.

With a smirk, he said, “Seeing you like this more than makes up for it. And I'll forgive you for the vampire costume, on one condition.”

It was rather clear where he was going, but she wanted him to say it. “Name it.”

His response hadn't exactly been what she expected. He held up a long, yellow scarf and waved it in front of her. “Get on the bed.”

Scarf bondage was something she'd suggested to him after a trip to Striaton to visit Fennel went into strange territory. For one reason or another, it was always put off or forgotten. But then and there, the time was right. Shauntal scurried over to the bed excitedly, practically squealing with delight, only to be stopped by Grimsley as she was about to jump onto it. He seized her by the wrist and pulled her close, bringing it to the other wrist and beginning to tie her up. “Wait, what? Why am I the one tied up?” she shouted in surprise.

“Come now, love. Do I look like Cheren?” He gave her a large smile, fake teeth bared as he tightened the scarf and pulled her into his lap. The writer fidgeted about, testing the quality and tightness of her bindings. It was surprisingly strong, not something she felt she could break out of. As she wriggled about, Grimsley slid a hand up her thigh, fingertips dancing along the fabric of the pantyhose, slipping beneath the skirt. Her head was turned toward his, and he ensnared her into a kiss as his fingers sank downward beneath the band of the pantyhose and her panties. Agile fingers ran down her mound in slow circles, spiraling along the sensitive skin and making her moan into his mouth.

She couldn't keep still. Her body tried to get into one of its more natural, comfortable positions, straining against the scarf and causing her to rock and fidget in her boyfriend's lap. The sudden presence of his fingers pushing onward and into her only complicated matters. Few things were as difficult for her as staying still, especially when something was actively trying to make her move. The way his long fingers touched her just drove her mad. Experience had taught him every inch of her body and he knew just where to go, but it never felt old, never felt like it needed to be spiced up or changed at all. Meddling with perfection was a losing game.

Seeing her twist, expecting to soon hear whimpers her pride was currently beating her, made Grimsley's smile larger. He slowly forgot how undignified his costume was as all that was on his mind was her. Soft kisses graced the side of her face, the smooth, perfect milky skin, as his eyes looked downward to the exposed cleavage. Her breasts were on the larger side of modest, and the way they shifted with every clumsy motion she made drew his eye. He considered placing a hand down there to play with them, but it seemed a touch counter-productive. She was tied up, at his mercy, and there was little reason to indulge her. Slipping the other hand up so it rested against her back and running slowly along her spine. She lurched forward a little, bringing the unintended effect of her vertebrae being more pronounced against the skin of her back, and his fingers indulged her in clinging to the slopes they formed.

On any other day, he would have gone for her breasts. Instead, he sought to tease her by running his golden touch up her back, keep her pleasure growing slower, under control. She caught it immediately, and her eyes shut tightly as she realized just what she was getting into, what game he was playing. He'd stop her, just when she seemed on the verge of release, and let her go. Use her body in some way to pleasure him, and only him. She knew he would, because when she straddled a bound Fennel, she did the exact same thing. She hoped that would be where the similarities ended, though, remembering just how much she put the submissive through, even the memory of all those spankings making her palm ache. Not that she wouldn't be up for that; it was just a lot of energy, and they did have a party that evening. Besides, Grimsley seemed to be enjoying himself a bit too much just from what they were doing for this to be a one-time thing.

Still, even he held all the cards, she could at least throw him off his game for a hand or two. She leaned her head away from him, exposing to him her neck, and put on her best fake 'innocent' voice, a bit air-headed. “I-if you're going to bite me, then please, just get it over it. I want t-to become like you.” Her breathing grew harder as, for that instant, she was a vulnerable young girl enthralled by some charming creature of the night. “A vampire.”

Something snide and sarcastic formed in Grimsley's throat, and only at the last second was it thrown away. She was bound in his lap, and he'd be damned if, in control, she'd let her play him like that. He withdrew his hand from her increasingly moist slit and grabbed her by the shoulders. Smoothly, he shifted her position so that she lay on her knees in front of him, hands still behind her back and her body shifting uncomfortably. “You think you're funny. Well, love, if you're going to mock me, then I guess I'll just have to shut you up.” As he spoke, he made a clear effort to enunciate as clearly and Unovan as he could, hiding his aristocratic accent a touch awkwardly. It didn't really matter, though, as he'd still be the one in control no matter how dignified he sounded. Regardless of how dumb his costume looked, he had, in his eyes, the most beautiful woman in Unova on her knees to please him. He slid his pants down his legs in one quick motion, carefully pulling them up and folding them. He took as long as he needed to, letting her sit at eye level with his erection hidden beneath his boxers. It would torment her, kill her that it was right there, just out of her reach, and she couldn't use her hands.

His plan was working, too. Her glasses were a little bit down the bridge of her nose, and she couldn't adjust them in a motion that she had come to take for granted over the years. Even if she reached forward, she'd end up with a mouthful of the side of his bed, and something told her that his resolve wouldn't break watching her gum a mattress. Instead, she had to look up at the smirking dark-type trainer, watching him fold his pants as slowly as he could, putting care into every motion before setting them down on the ground beside the bed.

“I wouldn't want them to get ruined in what we're about to do. They must have been rather expensive, after all. And if nothing else, it's been a pleasure watching you squirm so much, just kneeling there and wanting me so badly that you can hardly contain yourself.”

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, this time the vulnerability and need in her voice not being hidden beneath airs of vapidity and bad romance writing. Granted, it wasn't wholly genuine, as Shauntal had a knack for feigning whatever mental state best fit the narrative of the night, but there was some truth to it. She was growing restless, teased and fingered, only to be pulled away from so unceremoniously, left to whimper and watch him actively drive her up the wall. She put on a show for the sake of the moment, but damn if her mouth wasn't watering with temptation and arousal.

“For you to beg, my dear. For your trembling voice to convince me that you want this half as badly as your eyes tell me you do. For you to know that every time I kissed your slit was out of kindness, and that you are the devoted one here.”

“I need you,” she said, voice shaking and drawing out 'need'. Lust tore up at her words, like small licks of flame at the top of a roaring fire. “Every second I spend on my knees looking at marveling at you is just torture. The only thing I wish to do more than wrap my likes around it and taste it is to prove to you that I can bring you to new heights of pleasure without using my hands at all. Please, let me show you what I can do.”

He'd expected begging, but nothing quite on that level. Not really knowing how to respond to that, and being driven mad by her voice but not really allowed to show it, he obliged, and slid his underwear down his legs as well, kicking them away with far less care.

Moving one knee at a time, she closed the small gap between them, and leaned her head forward. Grimsley was particularly blessed, so to speak, endowed so much that even the sight of his penis could inspire her on some days. Her eyes closed as she accepted his flesh past her lips, her tongue pushing up against the hot flesh. It satisfied her in some strange way. Maybe not physically, her vagina still aching for more attention and unwilling to accept that she couldn't bring it herself, much to her dismay. Mentally, however, it was sex of some kind. It wasn't torment, watching his glorious cock hidden beneath a cotton-polyester blend and just out of her reach. Even running her hand up his shirt could elicit such a response from her, her mind so tuned to sex that something in her derived pleasure even from the slightest of intimate touches.

On top of that, giving Grimsley oral sex was rare thing, a treat of some sort. Their first time, she rode his lap as she read him one of her 'stories'. It started a trend, a tradition of sorts. If she had something written, she'd read it to him. Not only would he be treated to one of her tales, but as their sex drew on her voice would break, moan and crackle with fiery passion. It was the sweetest sound to him, hearing her in the throes of passion, giving her work the most intimate reading she could. The next night, he ate her out, and it became the usual prelude to sex. By contrast, it was only a month into their relationship, on Valentine's Day, that she performed orally for him for the first time. It just suited their dynamic better, and neither really complained about that.

With Grimsley playing dominant though, far more than either had controlled the situation before, he was playing aggressively. Granted, she'd done the same thing to Fennel, but Fennel practically handed her handcuffs and said, “Spank me.” Grimsley was just manhandling her, something that only got worse as she felt his hand cup the back of her head. Bracing herself would do no good as the fingers got entangled as best they could in her short hair and began to push her forward. She should have seen it coming from the beginning. It absolutely decimated the pace she was working at, pushing her head down toward his loins and letting his cock pass through her lips until he decided she'd gone down far enough. Back up she slid slowly, only to come down just as forcefully, making the bell on her collar ring. Each passage sank a little more aching, warm flesh into her mouth. Her eyes were just a little tighter and she was just a little wetter with every inch. She understood Fennel a little better for it, on her knees, unable to move her arms, and just being used. Subjugated.

His tip pressed on to the entrance of her throat and further, her lips coming to his pelvis where she planted a loose kiss, opening her lips with a smacking sound a little as her tongue tried its best to move around in her mouth. It wasn't the easiest task, all things considered, growing harder with time. With no more length to ease into her, Grimsley's only option for escalation was pace. Speed. Roughness. She could feel the tightening grip on her hair, the somewhat harder pull of it on her scalp, still not in danger in pulling hair out but not the gentlest grasp she'd felt. It dawned on her that so rarely had they done this, and certainly never with such forcefulness, that she wasn't completely in her element. Without control, she was left to what she could scrape up, all of her ideas torn away from her. He was as deep as he could go, and a strange feeling of uncertainty came over her. Deeper understanding followed for the submissive scientist and why she and Professor Juniper pursued the love life they did. It was fortunate that she hadn't yet committed the story to paper, as something changed in her perception of it for knowing just what being on the bottom was like.

For all she may have been confused, Grimsley didn't seem to notice. He'd been the dominant one before, certainly, and especially with others, but never so much as he was in that instant. Sloppiness didn't even matter to him, so high on what he was doing and the thrill of domination that she was still giving him the best head he could imagine in his dazed recollection. There may have been, and probably was, a time where she gave better, but it was lost in the sea of pleasure and excitement that the moment brought, casting a damper on everything that came before. Looking down, he saw her squirm, saw her eyes shut tightly and her entire body wriggling about. She was locked, pressure building inside of her, body unwilling to admit that she was bound and powerless, trying to break free and soothe the ache. It was a glorious sight.

Finally, she opened her eyes to look up at him. That's what he'd want, and she was to give him what he wanted. Big brown eyes looked up at him, glasses slid down her nose from the forceful facefucking and only bringing part of her field of vision out of blurriness. It was a surprise where his free hand reached down, pressing against the red bridge of her rimless glasses and sliding them back up, letting the blurry come into focus. It would have been a kind, loving gesture on any other night, but it felt like something he did only so she could see him looking down on her. Smirking. Seeing him with red contact lenses, killing the expected bright blue intensity she was used to, was jarring, but she held her gaze. They shared an intense stare for a moment, until Shauntal realized that his eyes had drifted up to look at the cat ears sticking out of her hair, and his sneer was abating into a smile.

Snickering, Grimsley pulled Shauntal back, his girlfriend breathing heavily as strands of saliva connecting her mouth to his shaft started to break. Her breathing was heavy, head moving a bit back and a bit forth in rapid motions in time with her breaths. His fingers were still deeply entrenched in her hair, the tugging feeling on her scalp still keeping her firmly in the moment. Looking down at her, again seeing the make-up whiskers, did not help him keep his composure, which felt like it would undermine the moment a little. Desperate for a way to regain his bearings, he let go of her hair and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her upright and leading her onto the bed, conveniently faced away from him. On all fours she landed, head turned so as to keep her from getting a mouthful of pillow, dress riding up her body. The pantyhose that came with the custom costume was different than her normal purple pair. For one, it lacked a large tear in the crotch area, which was almost jarring enough to make him do a double take. The other was that they were thicker, not allowing him to see up close and with her rear in the air anything that lay beneath it. There was a bump where her panties began, but that was it. Not helping matters was the tail, leaning lazily off to the side.

His hands dug into the bands of both her stockings and her panties, pulling them down her legs just until they almost reached her knees. Just as expected, the uncomfortable writhing picking up as her legs were also restricted in movement, eliciting a whimper for the author. Pushing up the hem of her dress a little further, so as to keep any fluids from getting on the expensive, new costume, he bared her cute ass and her wet slit. Two fingers pushed against her opening, sliding slowly down the crease between her labia, and another vulnerable, delicious sound rolled up from her throat. The time on her knees had made her wetter, heightened the anticipation and the arousal, and her sopping wet pussy showed it. He pulled his fingers away and got into position, kneeling above her bound legs, his own tightening against the sides and keeping them harder in place.

A shiver shot up Shauntal's spine with the same graceful slowness as his fingers had earlier. She felt his spit-soaked shaft pressed against her opening, pushing up against her trembling lips, merely there. More and more, it dug into her, and she half-believed that even a single throb from him, the slightest of motions in his flush-against-her penis, could set her off. He was as close to being inside her as he could without actually doing so, and her fingers dug into her palms as her body rejected the whole idea of it, begged her to make it stop. Never before had she been so powerless, so robbed of control or at least say in the situation. Subject to his will, she was left to lay there and anticipate. He held all the chips, and he damn well knew it.

“Purr for me, my little kitty,” he said in a dark, deep voice that rumbled in her head, the nerves in her ears fluttering. His hips drew back a little, then pitched forward, and the friction of his skin against her slit made her shiver. “Purr,” he repeated, rolling the 'r' in such a way that she melted against the bed.

Even if she wanted to fight him, she didn't have the will to. Broken down by pleasure and teasing, she couldn't control herself as the purrs rolled from her lips. She even nuzzled against the pillow, thinking it catlike enough to hopefully get him going. On any other day, it would have made him laugh and given him endless amounts of jokes to make. Enraptured, though, and seeing her obey his command and make such adorable sounds, drove him wild. It was no longer worth teasing her when he himself was growing hungry. He jerked his hips back and pushed forward, grunting as he buried himself balls-deep in her.

For a moment that hung like an eternity, they lay perfectly still, his entire length buried inside of her, as though they had come together to achieve some higher level of being and to move would be to throw it all away. The high of satisfaction at last faded though, lasting only a fraction of the time that the teasing that brought it on did. Before long, Grimsley's hands were hard into her sides, and he began to thrust. It wasn't like the night before, or any night she could remember, really. There was little patience in his motions, no tenderness. Even their time in the coat room of a party, the only thing between them and almost a hundred people being a single wall, there hadn't been such urgency. It wasn't love. He was fucking her. That word that always seemed so devoid of romance to her suddenly took on new meaning. There were indeed emotions behind the lust, and she felt totally safe in surrendering herself to him like she never had before.

“Harder,” she mewled, “Please, go harder, don't stop.” Every strong push into her sent her hard against the mattress, against the pillow her face was not so comfortably poised atop. Her hands were behind her back, not in the more comfortable position of in front of her or maybe tied to the ornate bedpost. It couldn't have been accidental, either. The way that mocking laughter seemed to ride atop his breath every time she struggled made her sure of that. The only sounds she could hear above her whimpering and moaning were his words and breaths, and the smacking sound that rang out each time he went all the way into her. And the fucking ringing of her collar's bells. Accompanying the sound was a spreading feeling of warmth, the presence of his entire shaft buried in her sending waves through her body, leaving nerves reeling in their wake. Every inch of her awaited the next push, the next surge that it would give it a brief flash of bliss.

It was then, as her glasses finally fell from her face entirely and she buried her head in the pillow, that she came to truly understand Fennel and her mindset. Not as a character, not in some exercise where she would adopt the mentality of a character to gain some insight into them. This was raw reality, and Grimsley was in control, deciding on a whim when she deserved pleasure. It was still love, still affectionate and caring, but hidden beneath their play. She never thought of Fennel and Juniper's relationship--by all accounts a full-blown BDSM deal--as unloving, but she hadn't realized that what they did was an extension and expression of that love. For a woman dressed as a cat and being fucked into a mattress, it made her far more squishy and mushy on the inside than she should have been.

“My teasing paid off,” Grimsley grunted, slamming hard into the bound author. “I can't remember the last time you felt this good.” It wasn't just empty talk, either, though the heat of the moment may have made a few edits to history for it to be true for him. His efforts to tease her and leave her on the edge meant that she was primed, slick and aching, her inner walls damn near convulsing with the temptation. They clung hard to his pistoning dick, growing stickier as something other than saliva coated his shaft. His fingers dug into her skin, nails beginning to inflict some dull pain on her as he held onto her hips, another subtle--though largely accidental--way of restricting her movement. From the waist down she may as well have been paralyzed, and in her body's desperate attempt to move, her upper body's motions became even more pronounced, deepening his satisfaction.

It was all reaching a head, and Shauntal was the unfortunate one who ended up buckling first. The teasing had just been too much for her, and the feeling of him just ravaging her body in ways she'd never felt before sent her into new heights. Her orgasm struck her harder than she'd expected, and her teeth clenched down on the pillow as she tried to contain herself, knowing that if allowed to make a sound, she'd make one that would reach civilization. She pushed back against him frantically, her head spinning as nerves lit up like fireworks and sparked off in every which direction.

What drove her mad about it all, though, was that he was still going. He hadn't had his fill yet, seemingly compelled by willpower to continue pounding into her until such a time as he was fully pleased with himself. Given the depths of his arrogance, though, Shauntal worried he would go on for days. Her body needed time to relax, needed to recover, as she really didn't have it in her that afternoon to go for multiple orgasms, especially with the party coming up.

The party!

“I'm getting close,” he panted. “And I'm going to fill you up.”

“Please, no,” she said, not even using her over-the-top sub voice anymore. “If you do, a single drop of that could get somewhere, and Burgh will notice. Burgh always notices.”

“You think you can tell me what to do?” he asked, and surprised her by giving her a hard smack on the ass, making her pitch forward a little. She hadn't seen that coming.

“No, not at all!” she shrieked. “B-but if you finish in my mouth, make me swallow it all...” She emphasized 'all', using that lusty tone she often read stories in that always drove him mad.

Something about that seemed to appeal to Grimsley. “Very well,” he said, “I can't possibly say no to a woman so eager to be dominated that she tells me how better to do so.” He pulled away from her, grabbed her again by the hair, and was not all too gentle in dragging her into a position better for him. Even more uncomfortable and with his fingers again pulling on her hair, he thrust into her mouth. This time, though, they weren't the long, deep thrusts that made her worry about her inexperience with such matters. Instead, he went for shallow, quick motions, aided by the hand he stroked himself with. She looked up at him with whatever emotion her face was already stuck in, not having the energy to play anything anymore. Save for the brief flash of reality, she was invested in it, and wished to see everything through. If he wanted to fill her mouth with spunk and have her swallow it, then that's what she would do, and she'd do it happily.

It didn't take very long, either. It surprised her when his penis jerked in her mouth and the sudden taste of semen hit her tongue. She quickly swallowed it all, only for a smaller, second wave to hit as he kept jacking off into her mouth. Down it went too, and the decidedly un-playful thought hit her mind of how much mouthwash was left.

Grimsley's release brought calm and sanity back to the room. He undid the scarf, letting her stretch out her arms a little as he massaged her aching wrists. “I can't say I've ever done something like that before,” he said, putting his arm around her and bringing her down so that they lay together on the bed.

“Neither have I. Well, I guess with Fennel, but those are two sides of a very different coin.”

“Are you taking my gambling puns now, too?”

“Oh, hardly. You hardly punned before we started dating.”
Grimsley scoffed and rolled his eyes, though didn't dispute what she said, merely held her close.

“So, just out of curiosity. Was the costume really a backfired joke, or did you plan for this all along?”

“Never show your cards when you win the hand early.” He had a wide smirk on his face, showing the fake teeth. “That way, they'll never know if you were bluffing.”

“What if I said that, depending on the answer, I may just dress up like this for you again some time? Maybe a time where I can do something with these paw mitts.”

“Then I'd say I know a place where you can get a tail that would be much for fun than one stuck to your dress.”

Knowing what he meant, Shauntal should have given him a playful smack, but she couldn't bring herself to do much, wrapped up in his arms. Besides, Burgh was the party host, and if he creeped Grimsley out half as much as they did when they all went to dinner a few months earlier, the last laugh would be on her.
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Playful Kitties and Scarves