Tame Me... If You Can

Bam!

Bark explodes off the trunk as I slam into an old tree. My lungs burn, dragging uneven breaths in and out. I cling to its rough surface, fingers scrambling for purchase, legs like jelly—numb, weak, trembling.

Cold air rips through me, and sweat cools rapidly until the chill bites my bones. I scan the area, mapping out the best route to stay ahead… to stay out of his reach.

My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat a brutal drum threatening to tear me apart. A wave of something deep rolls through me—fear, arousal, maybe both.

I feel like a rabbit fleeing from a ravenous wolf, the knowledge that I am his prey urges me to run faster…

We planned this. Boundaries were set. Safewords agreed on.

This wasn’t fear — this was chosen.

Tonight is the perfect summer night. Clear skies. Shining stars. Moonlight is bright enough to give us nowhere to hide. My high-slit skirt whips around me in wild defiance.

But this serene beauty is at odds with the danger that’s stalking me. The wolf. He’s hunting me through the trees. While many would slow and help him win his bounty, I won’t.

The wind turns my skirt panels into flashing pink flags. I grab them, wrapping the fabric tight around my waist before weaving through the trunks. I leap over brush, careful not to snap twigs that might betray me. My bad leg won’t let me go fast, an old injury that lingers, so I move smart instead of quickly.

I don’t want him to win easily. I need to see his determination—his hunger. Only then can I trust him with what comes next.

If I stay on higher ground, near water, he might lose my scent. If I step lightly, shift directions often, and keep to darker paths, maybe I’ll keep this lead a little longer. But if I fail... then I am his. This hunt, this chase through the woods, hoping to catch me, hoping to claim me… It’s the sweetest kind of danger.

“Run, little fox,” his voice growls through the trees. “When I catch you—and I will—your body is mine.”

I turn right and slink away as quietly as I can, holding my breath back a bit, too. But an arm wraps around me from behind.

He found me.

A haze of arousal hits me, knees nearly buckling, but his hand steadies me. A fuzziness fills me at how beautiful this moment feels, the two of us so bound together in trust that we can truly let our dark desires fly with one another.

He drives me back until my spine meets the tree. One hand catches my knee, lifting it around his hip. The space between us disappears as he grinds into me. His forehead rests against mine, eyes daring me to move, to yield. When his low growl vibrates against my skin, another wave of desire crashes through me.

“I’m impressed. Such a challenging prey, I’m going to really enjoy taming you now.” He threatens, his mouth nearly against my neck as his lips brush over my skin with each word.

“Good luck with that, sugar.” I laugh, then turn to lick his cheek and kiss his lips in a wild, feral attack of passion.

His heat presses against me, and my composure begins to unravel… but I’m not about to surrender easily. He might think he can tame me—claim my body as if that’s all I am—but I won’t yield without a fight. I surge toward him, testing his control, daring him to prove he’s more than a man playing dominant. Only a true one can handle me.

Grabbing my chin, he devours my lips in a savage tongue-fuck — slow, deep, intense. His hands are strong, confident, in tune with my body. My knees go weak, but he keeps me close.

He sees all of me: not just my body, but the fight inside it. That’s why my heart starts to soften… but just a little.

I trail my hands down, down, down to rub against the clothed hardness pressed to my core. I don’t hold back, rubbing and sliding, teasing him beneath the moonlit sky.

But before things go any further, his hand grabs my neck, tightens, and then pulls me off of him as he blows out a frustrated growl. His free hand reaches my thin nightgown, and he tears it at the buttons. My naked breasts spilling free, bouncing and perky with arousal. He grabs them, roughly squeezing and flicking the nipples. Zings shoot down to my core, and a wet warmth fills my panties. Little gasps and whines escape me, but I hold back the rest, biting my bottom lip.

“I will tame you.” He growls, shoving a couple of fingers inside of me and flicking against the spot he knows I like best.

“Why would you want to?” I purr in defiance, reaching inside his waistband and wrapping my fingers and palm around the flesh of his powerful length. I wrap my hand around him, pumping hard. ‘Being feral is fun,’ I answer with a mischievous grin.

“It is indeed, but darling, taming you means perfecting that feral energy into something even more pleasurable between us than you can imagine.” He says, grabbing my wrist and locking it above my head so I can’t touch him.

“I dare you to try then, show me who my Alpha is.” I challenge. Knowing no man, no Dom has ever earned that particular title with me.

Deep, rough laughter accompanies his knowing smile. He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and carries me back to his place.

“Let’s get rid of this gown, shall we?” He pushes me down onto his bed, pulls out a knife, and cuts the remaining parts of my negligee off, tossing it to the side, completely unwearable now.

I couldn’t run again unless naked. The thought makes me giggle—he’d like that. If I tried, he’d tackle me down and take me right there, and I’d love every second of it.

He strips and climbs onto the bed, slowly dragging the blade from my neck to between my thighs—careful not to cut, firm enough to make me ache. A slow drip of arousal slides down my leg, and his groan follows, dark and hungry.

“Open that smart mouth wide and suck my cock.” He slides it in, my lips rubbing against his veins. I immediately flash my teeth, threatening his manhood with a playful wink.

“Still testing me, little fox?” His voice drops to a growl. “If you want to play with danger, then do it properly—spit them out, nice and slow.” He reaches the side table and brings me my denture cup to place both in, “Show me you trust me.” He leans closer, breath hot against my lips. “Otherwise, I’ll put this handle where my cock should be and let you think about every inch you’re missing.”

I’m addicted to it, worshipping and lavishing and loving the gorgeous shaft that loves me. I can’t push this moment any longer than I have, so I let him win this round. But nothing said he was winning the whole thing. I’ll show him just how much I’m still winning here, how much I’m still in charge over my own gratification, and how much he still has to earn me.

I give him what I rarely give anyone else.

I suck his dick my way.

I lose myself in carnal pleasure, pushing him with my mouth in ways most can’t. Years of surviving illness have made me resilient—my teeth out, I can go harder, deeper, fuller.

I take him fully into my mouth, tongue flexing like a hungry tentacle, flicking and teasing, rubbing every soft part of me against his shaft. My hands roam his thighs and ass, caressing his hips, balls, and taint. I feast on him, savoring every delicate, juicy inch.

Sounds of absolute indulgence and joy fill the space between us. This is where my true love language exists. With my mouth, I show him my devotion.

I watch him edging that line of control right before my eyes, as I look up from still sucking and gagging around him. But at the last second, when I’m sure I’ll taste him on my tongue and down my throat, he pulls free and grounds himself fast, regaining his composure.

“That fucking mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, little fox!” He threatens. Then he spins me around, bending me over his headboard roughly. “Hold on tight.” He demands, but of course I don’t listen, why would I? I look to see what he’s about to do when I feel it.

SLAP.

“Uuuugh!” My head goes back, and my eyes light up. Part of me feels the pain, the anger of that pain, but the other feels the pleasure. I pull my ass in, trying to keep him from doing it again, but I don’t get far, and the sting repeats. After three spanks, I stop fighting it and push my ass out. My cunt aches and drips as I ask for more: “Again, make my ass red.” He goes harder, setting my cheeks ablaze.

“Come here, my dirty little slut.” He grabs my neck and pulls me closer, turning me so my back is arched against his chest, “Spread your legs, this pussy needs punishing too.” He holds me with a tight grip by the neck and spanks my needy little bud, while watching my tits bounce with every slap he gives. He’s not hurting me, he’s raising my arousal.

“You feel that, princess? Do you feel how much more I can raise your satisfaction if you just accept my control?” I nod fast, still whimpering for more. “Do you still think you’re in charge here?” I nod again, and a snarky smile spreads on my face. “Then I’ll just have to turn things up.” He replies.

“And how do you think you’ll do that?” I ask.

“Do you trust me to push this further?” He asks. I expected him to fuck through my brattiness, to overpower me. Instead, he slows down, focusing, strategizing his power. He pauses, and, really looking at me, asks, “You remember your safeword?” That pause… it told me I wasn’t just a toy to him. I was someone he wanted to understand and protect.

I nod again, “Red or Yellow, let’s see whatcha got, pumpkin.” I tease.

“Lay down flat, hands above your head, and ankles out, brat.” He orders, but I still don’t listen. “Hands above your head and ankles out, or I’ll spank your tits next, little girl.” He darkens, pushing me down and manhandling me into the position he wants.

I give in and comply. Once I’m where he wants me, he locks cuffs to each limb, leaving me completely vulnerable—at his mercy. He reaches for things he has under his bed and as he pulls each one out, I put it together that he has a sex machine hidden under there, and he’s now setting it up.

He uses a little lube, mixing it with my natural wetness, and slowly fills my pussy with a thick and medium-soft dildo. The silicon molding perfectly to me as it reaches destination. It’s teal and see-through, long and thick.

He then grabs a remote and flicks some buttons; his TV blares intense porn, sound filling the room, surrounding my senses in erotica before putting a blindfold over my eyes to focus my sense of touch. He knows me well.

As he starts up the machine, I feel his skilled mouth and fingers join in to orchestrate a symphony of torture. Lavishing attention on my clit and nipples while pounding out my cunt with an expertise that borders on sadism.

My back arches off the bed. Moans and light screams tear from my throat. Pleasure swarming my body as the machine thrusts into me, over and over again. He positions himself to maximize the tease even more with his rigid length bobbing and sliding loosely against my body all while he plays. Frustrating me with denial.

It’s offensive to me to have such a hard and needy cock close by, and not being allowed to cater to it. No one touches it—his throbbing shaft grazes my hyperstimulated body, teasing every nerve. My mind is becoming consumed by the twisted desires that haunt me.

The press of his hardness against me—a constant promise of the pleasure to come—syncs with the relentless rhythm of the machine, sending shivers racing down my spine. The air thickens with the sounds of indulgence; the moans and cries from the screen feed my own raw need, blurring what’s real and what’s fantasy. His touch commands me, each movement a calculated stroke in the dark symphony of desire threatening to consume me whole.

And then, it happens - the dam breaks, and I’m engulfed by a maelstrom of ecstasy, my body rocked by the sheer force of my own release. It’s a collision of pleasure and pain, a head-on crash of sensations that leaves me gasping, my senses reel from the impact.

Arching my back, I cry out in bliss, but he never stops; he doesn’t even slow down. He takes ownership of me and powers on. Shifting his fingers, he hits the same spot from another angle, making the next orgasm build from the first, but even faster.

He’s learning my body right here, right now. Reaching that magical setting I have where if he knows the right rhythm and order, he can make it so my cunt is so super needy and reactive, it can’t stop orgasming as he keeps playing. Proving that he cares deeply for the needs of my body.

He sends me to the clouds every few minutes. Even when he pauses, I keep crashing, every touch setting me off. Like a wave pool, the pleasure lingers, then crashes, building higher with each swell.

“What’s wrong, princess? Does your pussy need a release? Too wound up?” He teases me, knowingly. I nod, too consumed in my needs to have words,

“Submit to me, and I’ll take good care of you, baby girl. That’s all I ask. Be mine.” He purrs. I look at his cock, silently pleading with him that I need it so bad. “You can have that too, when you reward me with your submission, now let go of the control and let yourself fly free.” He answers.

“You have it, you have me.” I gasp.

He smiles as he kisses me again.

“You’re not like the others,” he whispers, brushing my hair back. “You make me want to earn every fucking inch of you.”

Our passion flows between us, our bodies, minds, and hearts entwined in a current that ripples back and forth. After undoing my bindings, he slides in and pulls me close. Fierce, relentless thrusts send me shattering around him again, lost in the surge we create together.

His body is coiled tight, every muscle straining with control as he drives me through wave after wave of release. He hasn’t let himself go, but the rigid line of his body—and the hard pulse of him inside me—tells me he’s close.

“Oh fuck, I can’t hold back… where do you want it, baby?” His voice strains with need.

I love making him cum. I love watching it explode from him. It turns me on so much, seeing a man unravel like that.

“Inside me. Fill me up, I want to feel you leaking down my thigh when I walk.”

I didn’t give in because I lost. I gave in because he saw me, touched something deeper than anyone has. Because with him, my submission feels like power, not weakness.

The next morning, feeling the best kind of sore, I blink my eyes open to find his side of the bed vacant. Worry immediately fills me. I glance around the room, wondering if I had been wrong, did he leave? Did it mean nothing to him? Then I hear clanking sounds from the other room.

Wrapping a sheet around me, I rise from the bed and pad out to find him in the kitchen, cooking us both breakfast.

“Good morning, beauty. Did you sleep well?” His warm, loving smile makes my chest go fuzzy. He steps up and kisses my forehead, waiting for my reply.

“I did, you?” I ask.

“Same. I had this beautiful woman keeping me warm all night; it was magical. I thought I’d whip up some food for us this morning. I hope you like omelets.” He says, “Here, sit and enjoy some coffee, breakfast’s almost ready.”

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you.” I smile at him.

As I go to sit, I wince, looking down and sliding the sheet to the side a little, I notice a bruise on my hip,

“You’re bruised, I’m sorry.” His brow is crinkled in worry.

“I’m not.” I smile warmly at him, “It’s simply a mark to show just how connected and free we were with one another last night. I love it.”

“Was any part of last night too much?” He asks.

“No, it was perfect.” I purr.