Little Bad Wolf Ch 03

They don't even talk first. Flint just walks up behind her and grabs Sophie around the waist, pulling her back against his body. She jumps a little in surprise, but doesn't fight him and doesn't pull away. She actually leans back against him, letting her weight rest on his substantially larger frame.

Sophie's only a little taller than I am, and has an... um, similar build. Some wolfboys are slender, it helps us move through the woods. There's nothing wrong with it. Point is, given our similar sizes, it's easy to imagine the vulnerable feeling in having a large man like that just grabbing her and pulling her close like that. Not that I'm imagining Flint grabbing me and pulling me close like he is to Sophie. It's just to illustrate what I'm seeing.

He starts rubbing his hands all over her like he owns her. Which I suppose he technically does, being his catgirl and all. It's... different with me. For reasons that I'm having trouble putting together right now. I'm hiding around the corner at the top of the stairs, and all my attention is on staying concealed while I watch. So it's not like I have the focus to put into putting the words together as to why I wouldn't be subject to a rough manhandling by the human man who cares for me like I'm a pet. I mean, sure, if Scarlett wanted to start feeling me all over, she'd of course be within her rights. But it's different with Flint. I'm certain it is.

He starts kissing her. Hard. Not a playful kiss to show affection to his pet catgirl. Definitely an 'I want you' kiss, if the groping didn't make that much clear. Am I really watching this? Does Scarlett know about this?

I should tell her when she gets home. She'd want to know. It's only right. And maybe it's an opportunity. If Flint's too buys fucking his catgirl, maybe Scarlett will finally come around to my charms and become my woman.

Without a request, or so much as a single word yet, he pushes Sophie down onto the couch, on her belly. Even with such rough treatment, she remains completely compliant, only moving to stretch out and arch her back like... well, like a cat.

He unfastens his pants and pulls out that big human cock of his. I remember him using it on Scarlett, and it looks even thicker next to Sophie's lithe frame. Like I said, our similar size makes it easy to get a feel for the scale. Though, if I wasn't before, I'm certainly not imagining myself in her position, now!

He doesn't undress her like I thought he would. Instead, he hikes up the back of her skirt, leaving her round little ass in view. Her tail lifts right up, as if to give him access, and twitches from side to side. He doesn't take off her panties, either, just grabs them and pulls them to the side. Then he leans down and runs his tongue along her opening, making her tail stiffen and her voice whimper. I don't think she needs moistening. I can catch her scent from here. It's something I've smelled before when I've run across wolfgirls with their males.

And then he just pushes himself into her. He stands back up, presses her body down with a hand against her back, and shoves his cock right into Sophie. She howls and digs her claws into the couch. It's actually hard to tell if that was pleasure or discomfort, and if Flint can tell, there's no indication that it makes any difference to him, the way he starts thrusting. Though, once she starts pushing back, it becomes rather clear.

There's something so amazingly, almost infuriately casual about the whole thing. When I think of the trouble I've put into trying to woo females, only for them to pass me by, I can help but feel a burning of envy in watching Flint just walk up and take her. Like it's nothing. Like it's something he's entitled to.

It's hard to actually find any disdain for him, though, even if I do feel jealous. Flint's actually been very kind to me since I arrived. He's gone out of his way to make me feel welcomed, which feels significant when I watch him roughly dominating Sophie, and realize what he's capable of.

Plus, he's not the one who made me wear these little shorts, which I'm noticing are awfully constricting right now. It's impossible to tell Scarlett 'no', but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why she's so focused on making me wear this tight, often feminine clothing. I have to pull these shorts almost all the way to get the pressure off of my cock. For a moment, I thought I was going to trip and fall, and give away that I'm watching.

There is a special enjoyment in watching Sophie get pounded, I'll admit. She's been cold to me, at best, since I got here, and seeing her get humbled by a thick human cock is satisfying. Not that him being human is the important part. Or his size. Though the way he seems to stretch her is pleasant. Obviously, I'd prefer it if I was the one doing the 'humbling'. But it's still enjoyable to watch him use her like this.

It's hard to maintain a good view while stroking myself, but I manage. He's so rough with her, but seems to make her like it, from her sounds, and I can't help but touch myself. It feels a little wrong, enjoying watching him fuck this catgirl, when he's Scarlett's boyfriend, but it's mesmerizing.

He reaches down and grabs her tail near the base, giving it a firm pull. She cries out and bucks wildly on his cock. I almost audibly gasp at such rough tail treatment. It actually almost sends me over the edge.

I get so close, then remember what Scarlett told me. "Be a good puppy and only squirt when we say it's time," she said. It's madness. This is my cock, why can't I cum when I want? But all the same, I find myself stopping. My hands pull away while my hips thrust on their own, and my cock throbs in place. But I do manage to hold back, I stay right on that edge, and finally, my body calms down.

I find myself asking why I just did that. I try to tell myself that it's because I was in danger of squirting all over the stairs. And I was. I'm still not used to having to restrain myself for cleanliness. In the forest, it doesn't matter if you cum all over the place. And if I made a mess in here, I'd risk getting caught. But I already know that isn't why I stopped. I didn't restrain myself because I was afraid of getting in trouble, it was because, on some level, I do want to be her good puppy. This isn't a proper thing for a wolf to want. But what can I do?

For now, I have to back off. If I keep watching, I'll start touching myself again, and then might accidentally cum on my own. I retreat back to the bedroom and curl up in my cozy little bed, trying to rest and not think about what's happening downstairs, even though I can hear each pleasured little squeak from Sophie, and each deep moan from Flint. Not that I'm interested in the latter.

I do manage to get to sleep, but it's a fitful sleep, and I don't know for how long. It's actually Scarlett that wakes me up, who immediately teases me for not wearing pants and for having an erection, which must have come back before I woke. She does, however, praise me for not cumming without permission, since I was obviously playing with myself, which makes me far happier than it probably should.

What fills me with less joy, is having to tell her what I witnessed. I leave out the part where I was stroking myself to the scene.

"And you're sure that's what you saw?" she furrows her brow annoyed, "They were having sex on the couch?"

I just nod meekly, upset that I have to be the one to tell her.

"Come on, then," she grabs my hand and pulls me along with her. I grab my shorts as we go, but am not given a moment to stop and put them on.

We find them right where I left them. Sophie is lazily lounging on the couch, with Flint sitting on the end, poking around on one of those little computers that humans have. I'm keenly aware of how exposed I am, but they don't pay me much attention.

"Flint, sweetie, our little puppy says he caught you," she tells him, annoyed, but not nearly as annoyed as I thought she would be, confronting him.

"Caught me doing what?" he acts genuinely curiously.

"Apparently fucking Sophie on the couch," she releases my hand and crosses her arms. I'm finally free to properly cover myself.

Flint and Sophie look at each other nervously, "Yeah, sorry babe, we kind of got caught up in the moment."

"You know how easily this thing stains!" she says... wait, what?

"I know, I know!" he sighs, putting the computer down, "Won't happen again, I promise!"

Scarlett shoos Sophie out of her place and inspects the fabric, "I think we're okay, I don't see any stains. Or clawmarks," she points at Sophie accusatorily.

"Just be more careful in the future, okay?" Scarlett asks of him, returning to a rather pleasant tone again.

"I will," he says, the two of them leaning towards each other and kissing. I am baffled.

Scarlett wanders out of the room, and my hands drop as I try to figure out what just happened. An unkind snicker from Sophie gets my hands flying back in place.

"Be nice, Sophie," he chastizes her, "Pup, maybe put some pants on?"

I just nod and trot off after Scarlett.

"What, um..." I try to find the words.

"What is it, puppy?" she asks.

"What just happened?"

"Oh, I've asked him a number of times not to fuck that girl on the couch," she explains, "She digs her nails into the fabric and they get fluids all over it. We've already had to flip the cushions over because of stains I can't get out. I don't want to have to reupholster the whole thing."

"So... you aren't mad about him.. and her?"

"Of course not, puppy. What do you think I got her for? I mean, that's not all she's for, she's a part of this family, but what kind of woman would get her man a catgirl and then be upset when he fucks her. That's why people keep catgirls," she smiles and kisses my forhead, "That's sweet of you to get jealous on my behalf, though."

"You got Sophie for him? To have sex with?" my mouth hangs open a little.

"Mhm."

I pause for a long moment while I process it, "Wait... so why did you get me?"

She just giggles and scratches my ear before walking off.

"That... that was a serious question!" I demand, but she doesn't answer.

--

"Is there anything I can help with?" I ask, from the edge of the kitchen.

Scarlett looks shockingly good in an apron, and for a moment, when she faces me head-on, it looks almost like she's not wearing a shirt under it. I'm not sure exactly what she's making, but it smells sweet and delicious. Really, though, I just want to spend some more time at her side, if I can.

"I think we've got everything under control in here, puppy, but thank you," she says to me, her flour-covered hands held out in front of her, to keep from touching anything.

"Mistress! Mistress!" Sophie chimes in, atypically cheerful, the other half of the 'we' Scarlett mentioned, "You've got a little, um," she points to her own cheek, mirroring a spot of some kind of white cream on Scarlett's cheek, probably whipped cream or frosting.

Scarlett goes to reach for her own face, stopping when she remembers her messy hands, "Sophie, could you..."

"Oh! Of course," Sophie stands on her toes and leans in, using the opportunity to shoot me a smug look. The vertical slits that are her eyes widen, and she runs her tongue slowly over the spot of cream on Scarlett's soft skin, pressing her slender frame against her Mistress' ample chest, all the while. And a lot harder than is necessary.

Scarlett giggles, "I meant wipe it off, Sophie, but okay."

The catgirl plops back down onto her heels and walks around her, twitching her tail at me. I swallow hard and try to adjust my shorts without anyone noticing.

"Puppy, if you want to help out, I think Flint could use a hand out in the garden," Scarlett tells me, going back to rolling some dough on the counter.

I nod, but don't manage to actually say anything. I just sort of meekly retreat. Not the manliest response, I know, but I'm a little overwhelmed right now. After getting so worked up by watching Flint and Sophie the other day, I never quite managed to find the right moment, or the courage, to ask Scarlett if I could, you know, finish. Then I was woken up by the sound of Flint and Scarlett together, last night. I found my hands busy again, under the sheets in my little bed. I didn't finish then, either. If I found the willpower to stop before, it seems like I'm letting myself down if I just suddenly give up. Not to mention letting down Scarlett. I want to make her happy, how else will I make her my woman?

A strange thought did occur to me, in bed last night. What if I swallowed it all? My cum, I mean. If I squirted it into my hand, and then licked it clean, there'd be no evidence, they'd ever know. Oddly, the idea didn't feel as objectionable as I would have thought. It's not like I'm interested in swallowing cum, but it's my own, so that's not so bad, and it would be for a specific purpose, not some weird kink-thing. And how hard could it be to swallow cum? Scarlett - and Sophie, apparently - does it all the time.

I didn't do it, obviously. I did worry that maybe it wouldn't work, that I wouldn't be able to catch it all in my hand, and I'd get it all over the sheets, then I'd get caught. That's not the reason, though. My cock squirts just fine, but it's not like certain other males around here, who are at risk of taking someone's eye out each time they ejaculate. I could probably do it, without making a mess, and get away with it. The problem is that I would know. I'd be deceiving Scarlett, and that bothered me too much.

Now, with Sophie deciding that she needs to tease me with her easy ability to touch Scarlett like that, I'm a bundle of nerves. I sigh to myself and head for the back door. At least if I'm helping Flint, I won't have to worry about being so aroused all the time.

For the first time since she first started making me wear them, I'm actually grateful that I'm wearing these thigh-high socks. It's still early autumn, but it's already cooling off outside. I shiver a little when the cool air hits me, and while my sweatshirt helps, these shorts don't leave much to the imagination, much less protect me from the cold. I try to hike up the socks a little, to cover the area on my thighs between the socks and shorts, which erupt in goosebumps. But it's little use. I've dealt with colder, out in the woods, and I can manage this.

So can Flint, apparently, because I find him shirtless. It strikes me as strangely lewd to see him like this, out in the yard. But I realize that it only seems that way because I've only seen him shirtless in the bedroom. He doesn't take notice of me, at first. I just observe as he takes a cut log from a pile, places it on a large block of wood, and then swings his axe down, nearly making it explode. I jump and yelp a little in surprise as the chunks of wood go flying.

"Oh, hey pup," he finally takes notice of me, resting his axe over his shoulder, with a smile, "Come to help out?"

I nod at him, "Scarlett said I should."

"Just finishing chopping some firewood," he says. I get it. It's for the fire-place thing, inside. I enthusiastically approve of this chore.

"Be a good boy and grab me another log," he directs at the pile of large logs with his thumb, "And don't worry, I won't tell Scarlett you didn't refer to her 'Mistress'," he chuckles at me and winks.

My eyes widen a little, "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," he says, walking over and resting a large, warm hand on my shoulder, "She likes the title thing with her pets, but I'm not so bothered about it. Though I won't be able to keep you from getting a sore bottom if you forget it too much around her," he ruffles my hair, and I find it strangely comforting, actually, "Now grab me one of those logs, pup."

I pull out one of the smaller logs I can find, only to find it still a lot heavier than I expected. I wobble a bit as I carry it over and heft it onto the chopping block, with the grain vertical, like he had the one before. He thanks me and directs me to back away before swinging the axe down again. Once more, the head of the axe connects and the wood bursts apart, scattering around.

I can't help but find it a little lewd again. The way his muscles flex is something I've only witnessed before in the bedroom. And he wasn't lifting an axe, he was lifting Scarlett. Between what he's doing to these logs, and what he can do to her, I'm glad he seems fond of me.

I go and collect the split logs and stack them in the cut wood pile, earning me a smile. I prefer to be a 'good puppy' for Scarlett, but this is nice, too. I don't mind cleaning up for him.

"Have you ever swung one of these before?" Flint asks, setting the head of the axe down and leaning against the handle.

I shake my head. A lot of human tools are new to me.

"Wanna give it a try?" he directs the shaft end of the axe at me.

I'm a little unsure, but I reach out and grab it. I do still need to prove my manliness around here, so I can't turn down a chance to show that I can do this. He grabs another log and places it on the block for me.

He approaches behind me, "Now, what you want to do is-"

"I think I got it," I inform him, perhaps my pride getting the better of me, and heft the axe up.

He puts up his hands and backs away, "As you wish. Go ahead, then."

I tightly grip both hands on the base of the shaft and swing it back as far as I can, then swing it down over my head. I use all my strength, and throw my full weight into the swing. To my credit, I do connect with the log. Unfortunately, I don't manage much more than that. The blade barely bites into the wood, not enough to do any real damage, but just enough that it gets kind of stuck in place and I have to use a lot of force to wiggle it free, knocking it over in the process.

Flint shoots me a grin that's pretty clearly stifling a laugh, "Don't worry, happens to lots of guys, puppy."

I furrow my brow at him, "I'm not as big as you are, it's not a fair comparison."

He gives a sympathetic smile as he walks over and sets the log back in place, "It's not all about raw strength, but about knowing how to direct your strength most efficiently. Here, let me show you."

He walks behind me and kneels down a bit to reach my height, then puts his arms around me, resting his hands on the back of mine. I swallow hard as I feel his chest on my back. Did I mention how shirtless he is? Because he is. It's a little uncomfortable when I remember him holding Scarlett and Sophie in similar positions, while... you know. Though, at the same time, there's a strange pleasantness to it, because of how warm he is, and how cool the air is.

"You want one hand down here, at the base of the shaft," he explains, guiding my left hand there and curling my fingers around it, "Then you want to start with the other up here, just under the head," he continues and guides my right hand just under the head, and curls my fingers around the shaft there, as well.

"Then you move it into position," he lifts my right hand with the axe head up over my shoulder, and rests his chin on my other shoulder, with his face just inches from mine, "This way, you'll start out with more control over the axe, and you're able to apply more strength with less resistance. As you swing forward, you keep your left hand in place, but slide your right hand down to meet it."

He takes my hands in his and slowly moves me in the motion as he described, easing the axe forward while moving my right hand down to the base to meet my left hand. He goes back and forth a few times to give me a feel for the motion, sliding my hand up and down his shaft from the head to the base, then back again. His axe's shaft, I mean.

"Think you got it?" he asks, his face nearly touching mine.

"Yes," I squeak out, my voice cracking.