Movement hints through the gauzy curtains. Sometimes the fans swirl and I can see Pel moving in the back yard. The silver in his hair glinting in the afternoon light. My back is starting to ache and my thighs are starting to burn. Not unpleasant really but right on the edge of being too much. I close my eyes and give over to the pain. The quiet isolation and the sure knowledge that Pel will be back and he will have ideas and desires. It’s been a tough day for my Pel. He doesn’t adapt as well as he wants people to think. He just has multiple contingencies and so it seems like improvisation. The burn works its way to my back and I can feel the hint of a possible cramp wanting to form.
The patio door opens. The sound of flesh padding on tile, along with the steady beat of dress shoes, heralds the return of my pet and my Pel. I open my eyes to see the blue eyes of Tara looking into mine. She rubs her side against me then licks my left nipple sending shivers deep. She prances away, deep in her pet persona. She is a wanton thing when she is this far into subspace but Pel still holds her leash.
Pel’s voice, soft like sweet honey, rolls out, “Go play Tara.”
Tara perks up and heads to her toy chest. Her mouth closes over the large latch and pushes the lid open. She stands over the chest selecting her toy while the fox tail waves seductively and soft patters mark the path of her arousal. She comes up with a ball gag that has drool holes in it. It is pink with a soft black leather strap and silver colored buckle. Proud as a show pony she takes her selection back to Pel.
Pel let’s the ball gag drop into his hand. He reaches into Tara’s panting mouth and runs his fingers around her gums and cheeks. Pushing his fingers into her warm wet mouth.
“Open your mouth, Tara,” Pel purrs.
Tara goes still and holds her mouth open to receive her gift. Pel settles the ball against her tongue and pulls the strap tight, running the leather softly against the buckle. Tight but loose enough to cut it off.
I watch as he reaches between Tara’s legs. Rubbing his hand against the source of her honey. She stretches back into his touch. It feels like he’s there for minutes but it must only be seconds. He pats her with his other hand and say, “Off you go.”
Tara trots off into the living room and it sounds like she is climbing into her pen.
Pel turns to me, his hand slick with the juices of our pet.
“Open your mouth.” His soft command shivering through me.
Calves, ass, back burning from holding first position so long I, nevertheless, comply opening my mouth.
Pel runs his slick hand over my tongue. The musk and spice of our Tara bursting on my tastebuds.
“Clean my hand,” Pels voice rolls out from his position above me. So close I can feel the remnant heat from his sun kissed pants.
I press my lips down, hold his fingers and his hand in my mouth, fighting for breath through my nose. I run my tongue against his fingers, between, seeking every last drop of Tara. Each finger pressed, tasting him and her. Feeling the jumping veins of his heart beat. When last drops yield to swallow, I find myself almost unconscious from lack of oxygen.
Pel watches the rising panic in my eyes. Waiting for me to make him stop. No. I’d rather pass out than fail. But I’m rigid with panic now.
Pel pops his hand out of my mouth and runs it down my back. Coating me in quickly drying saliva.
“Now that you know the taste, clean up the rest of Tara’s mess. Be sure to lick it all up,” Pel orders. He crosses to the bed and sits on the firm edge.
Finally allowed to move, I crawl slowly, rolling each muscle so as to stretch. I find myself unsteady. My arms shaking from what Pel almost did. A few more seconds and I would have been unconscious. I inhale great lung full of air and crawl to the first puddle.