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A Most Unexpected Interruption

Tag all prompts with: WritingGroupChallenge.

This Week's Writing Challenge: "It was a most unexpected interruption."

"Talk with me."

Chris had been deep in thought, sipping his second green apple vodka since he arrived, leaning against the wall trying to find some more courage before trying to find a conversation partner. Just biding his time, waiting for his courage to kick in when he heard the sentence, "Talk with me."

Who had spoken? He knew no one at this party, well; didn't know anyone so far. Mark would show up soon, he hoped. This did not cause him to despair; he was horny and the party had just started. Like the alpha-wolf predator he was, his simple plan; to prowl the rooms to find some female receptive to his charm, and cuddle up for some hot after-party celebration. Celeb-ration had been what there was far too little of. And there was far too much Celibate-shun. He giggled at his own wit, looking about, scanning the room for opportunities, for someone with whom he might talk.

He took a gulp (wow! The barkeep was pouring them strong) and Chris was scanning the room. Most predators had their backs to the wall, while conversing with those standing further out into freedom of movement. So Chris chose leaning up against the wall, hoping someone would come stand in front of him and talk. Why not? It was worth a try.

Sure, he was a little on edge, a little insecure, ok -- he admitted: this was awkward. At a party where he knew neither the host, nor any guests, leaning here seemed a safe bet, since he was unsure of what to do. But so far no one had approached him.

When he heard the "Come here" with not a soul standing near him, or even looked towards him, he thought it 'Odd'.

The nearest partyer was a very tall lion standing not too far away, who was standing, smiling, just scanning the crowd. Not looking his way, in fact taking no notice of him. Just the words, "Come here." It seemed a quite unexpected interruption.

He didn't know anyone, no one that he'd seen yet. Sure, the party was just starting, the bar was well stocked, the bartender knowledgeable, the buffet was complete - a little something for just about everyone except no long-grass for the cud-chewers. The bull Chris had seen browsing the offerings had found vegetables enough, much crudite to nosh on, but not much in the way of true fodder. Still it was always awkward being at a party and not knowing anyone there. Even had Mark been there, it still would have been awkward, not knowing the host. But why was he on the guest list, then? Well - he'd ask Mark when they met up.

The expensively dressed lion calmly lent back against the same wall, paws in his pockets, a few meters away looking out into the crowd. Perhaps it was he who had spoken to him. Chris took a big swallow of his drink, for courage, then turned to the lion. Perhaps the lion would introduce him to a vixen, doe, cow, or hell; a lioness, here. He wasn't close-minded, he wasn't specie-ist, and he was very horny.

"Uh, were you speaking to me?" Chris stepped up to the lion and looked up into the lion's calm face with the very green eyes, he smiled. The lion lowered his chin to look down, right into Chris' dark brown eyes, still showing a small pleasant smile. Chris took that to mean that it was he who had spoken. Still smiling, the lion just looked at him. How very awkward to just look at each other, so taking another gulp of his drink Chris tried to continue the conversation finally settling on talking about the party.

"Uhhh, so, uhn, are you friends with Ioannis?" Chris wasn't sure what to make of the name, shouldn't it have been Johannes or something? The first Chris had seen it was on the invite forwarded from his buddy Mark, but he still didn't know what to make of the name; Ioannis. How was it said? Ee-oh-anness? Eye-oh-ann-ees? However it was pronounced, Chris was sticking with Yo-ahn-is until told otherwise. Adding to the awkward feeling; Mark was no where to be seen, he had texted Chris: "Just go in! You are on the guest list." Which felt very odd to Chris, how was he on the guest list at a party where he didn't know the host? How did that work exactly?

The lion continued looking at Chris, not breaking eye contact, but not responding, he did smile wider, though. So Chris took that as encouragement.

"My name is Chris," he said sticking out his paw, to shake, "I partner with Mark in Marketing."

"Mmmark." The lion said it slowly as if he were trying a new food, or an experimental sound.

"Yeah, Mark. We are in Ads and Marketing, usually on the same projects."

"Ads and Marketing, fooorrr; ...?" The lion prompted, breaking eye contact only long enough to look down at the still outstretched paw.

"Oh, sorry, I'm with CP-CXB," Chris began. But when the lion furrowed his brow and scowled, Chris expanded his explanation; "Chemical-Pork-Corn Exchange Banking, ... In the towers across the street? Mark and I live in the next building north, the 2300 building. It's too convenient living here, this is a fabulous city, it just really works so well. Having so many folks to meet, get to know, to uh, to party with!" He tried to sound enthusiastic. Finally the lion extended his big paw, large like a catchers' mitt, and shook in greeting. Firm shake, not aggressive, friendly, but his paw might have wrapped Chris' paw completely.

The lion was taciturn, and merely said, "Call me Castor. You and your partner, Mark, live in the next building?" The lion continued to look Chris in the eyes with the same calm relaxed smile, as if he were enjoying meeting Chris. The unbroken eye contact was a little unnerving! No, not frightening, not to an Alpha. Yet the smile encouraged Chris' trying to get a conversation going.

"Oh! No! No, Haha, yes, in the same building, but different apartments. He's not my partner, we only work together. We're at the bottom of the pile over there. So much that we're working on right now! We hope to get promoted soon. We're both working very hard to please management. There's opportunities to move up from the bottom of the pile.

Castor said only, "Bottom of the pile. Mmm,...I only workthe top."

Chris responded, "Oh, in management? That must be nice."

"Yes... And where is your, ....?" And the lion left the sentence open.

Chris took another slug of his drink, "My...? If you mean 'did I come with someone', no, I'm alone.

The lion tilted his head a little to the side, and merely said, "Ah. Alone."

"Yeah, for a while I was dating someone in Finance Group, but crap! We had a lot of fun horsing around. But she; wanting to date everyone, do everything, all the time -- I didn't know what to do with her. She said she wanted to be mine. I wanted to be hers. I didn't know what to tell her. She couldn't provide any direction. Every time I felt I was on top of things, it all just, well, bottomed out. When she wanted to get a pet, it fell totally apart."

"I see," said Castor. "You didn't want her to get another pet?

"Oh, no, I mean she was looking to get one. She didn't have one, yet."

"And she wanted a pet. But you weren't her pet, but you didn't want to share a new pet between you?" He asked as if mystified by Chris' statements.

Chris, wrinkled his brow in confusion. When he realized the implications, what Castor thought of him, he took a step back, blushed bright red and coughed. "No, No, It wasn't like that, she wasn't, I mean - we weren't, I, I, I wasn't, I didn't want to be her p-pet." Chris saw how weak that sounded, how silly that denial came out. It was true, but it didn't sound sincere.

Suddenly something fell out of the lion's pocket onto the floor making a small plop sound. It was a collar; a wide, black, unbuckled collar, clipped to a chain, lying still unmoving on the floor. Chris' eyes followed the chain up, followed it to where the end looped around the lion's wrist.

"Oh, it fell," said Chris. Bending, picking up the collar, even before he stood up, he realized what it was, and was for. And then his breath froze in his throat. Realizing that it wasn't accidental, it was a deliberate act; a question!

Still blushing, Chris extended his arm -- offering it to the lion, but Castor just looked him in the eyes, smiling.

"Your reaction told me all I need to know, Chris," almost at a whisper he said, so softly, "I want you to put it on, for me. The collar is large enough, but will it fit you?"

The shock Chris felt, the heat in his cheeks, his neck, feeling like his head was burning hot, heat burning his neck; It was so humiliating! Chris was an Alpha-predator, and a wolf!

But through the embarrassment he just stood there, stunned, holding it, looking at It. Wanting only to give It back, just because the lion had dropped It. He only picked It up to be polite. He couldn't put that thing on! That was too kinky. And what did the lion mean, "It was large enough?" And he wasn't Gay, he just wasn't into kinky stuff! His stomach knotted up from the embarrassment.

Well, sure, those thoughts had crossed his mind, he'd thought about it, hadn't everyone? He sometimes had fantasies about various kinks, about BDSM objects like that. Alone. Late at night, while pawing. Fantasizing about things. You know, leashes, collars, riding crops, and padded cuffs. Everyone wonders about that stuff sooner or later, right? That didn't mean he wanted to or had some secret desire to. And still he felt his stomach knotted, his cheeks flushed, burning. It wasn't like it was his '_favorite'_fantasy.

He kept looking down at the collar hiding his face from the lion, avoiding that implacable unwavering gaze. And he felt the blood rising into his face again. That the lion would think such a thing, then he noticed the lump in his trousers. So embarrassing, the humiliation had him all flustered.

His subconscious mind had him all boned up.

By the time Chris had reasoned out the lion's meaning, the connection between the the collar's "large enough" and "fit you," the lion was speaking in a soft voice leaning towards him.

"If you want to know pleasure beyond your imagining - you will have to buckle it on for me," there followed a pause, "Now. I want to know if you fit it, or not."

Chris didn't know where to look, he couldn't figure out what to do. He was holding out the collar, and still Castor was not taking it from him. He didn't know if Castor was kidding or not, but he didn't even know Castor, and didn't know what putting on the collar might imply about himself, nor what it might express to Castor. What had Castor meant by the term "Pet" anyway? Certainly the lion was very attractive, for a guy, but Chris was pretty straight. Except for some stuff during his school years, but that was just ordinary experimentation, every guy tried that in high school, right? Just trying stuff out?

But Castor was already beyond that, and just very quietly said, "Try putting it on." No one was looking at them, and there already were some mildly affectionate displays - if no real action - going on in the room. With everyone engaged in conversation of one level or another, it seemed a harmless thing to try. It must be the alcohol he'd been drinking, but in this instant the idea seemed harmless. Chris turned it over in his hand, and put it up to his neck. Castor seemed pleased, for the smile seemed more genuine. While Chris fumbled with the buckle he looked at the floor, concentrating on fastening it. Once buckled on, he turned, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, he felt Castor pull the collar one more notch snugger, and then pat his back.

"That's good, that is a good fit. That shows you want this. Come with me."

Chris felt his face color again, and didn't know what to make of this. Looking around the room he saw a pair of guys, one of them leading the other wearing a collar and leash go down the hall. He took that to mean that others were finding this odd play acceptable, and so didn't object when his new -uh, friend?, owner?, master? - Chris didn't know what to think, but he could play along.

Castor led him to the hallway. At the end of the hallway was a larger room, in one corner of which a cast iron spiral staircase lead down one floor. What kind of apartment has a stairway in it? That would mean that the apartment below was owned by the same guy, "That's some money," thought Chris.

They descended the stair together, the leash long enough to be safe, descending into a room not as brightly lit as those upstairs. This room lead off through a hall into other rooms, it was a very large apartment downstairs as well.

In this dimmer, oh, certainly not dark or dangerous looking place, there were couples here and there standing, conversing, many in rather affectionate embraces. Chris was curious but not alarmed. Everyone still had their clothes on. It wasn't a kinky festival or orgy. He might have felt uneasy wondering what he was getting into, but oddly he wasn't scared. Not at all. It was rather exciting.

He was lead to a smaller room, near the corner of which was a curious statue of a leaping jaguar. Wandering over to it Chris' mind had trouble grasping its form. He reached out a paw to check, and yeah - it was cast metal, maybe bronze? A jaguar frozen in the act of leaping out in an arc from its hind feet on the floor to it's head towering over everything, its ears just brushing the ceiling. It was enormous, and must have cost a mint! Leaping to escape captivity judging by the ropes and ties and chains and manacles hanging from its legs and paws.

Just under it Castor stopped and shortened Chris' collar and chain until Chris was right beside him. Putting a digit under Chris' chin he tilted it up until Chris was looking right into the eyes of this lion towering over him. "Are you a brave wolf? Are you the kind of wolf that can take it? Are you a tough wolf?" And then derisively, "Or are you just a little fox in wolf's clothing?" Chris looked up into the eyes of the tall lion. Castor silenced any reply by placing his pointer finger across Chris' muzzle. "Before you answer questions, here are the two things you must think about if you wish to know what truly awesome pleasure is - if you go through with this. One, I guarantee you that you have never had anything like the pleasure this can bring you. And two, your break word is pancake-pancake, and your safe word is Blini-Blini. Each break lasts one minute, unless you ask for an additional minute. Two breaks in a row is all you get. If you ask for three minutes in a row, it is a hard stop. If you ask for more than two session breaks altogether it is a hard stop. If you understand say, 'kitty-kitty'."

Chris licked his lips to moisten them, his mouth was dry, this was all together and all at once, thrilling, scary, exciting, frightening, and he was very hard in his pants. He grabbed his belt, adjusting everything to be more comfortable. The gesture was not lost on Castor. Chris wanted to know more, ask more questions, but the finger - hot on his lips - his face blushing hot, the thrill of the unknown, the excitement led him to say just "Kitty-Kitty."

Smiling a huge smile, plastered all across his broad face, Castor said, "Reach up and grasp the fore legs of the jag." Chris did so, and Castor got right into his face and whispered, "You will love this, but do Not release those legs, not for any reason, except to stop. ... You have been told. I don't want to hear a peep out of you, unless I order you to beg, or you wish to use your break or safe words. Nod if you understand."

Chris nodded, and the tall lion just ran a big paw over Chris' head, smoothing his hair and stepping behind him rubbing his shoulders, massaging them. It was both sensuous and relaxing, and exciting all at once. Chris' abs were fluttering with tension, while his shoulders relaxed, and he had butterflies in his stomach and Wow! He hadn't felt that since high school! This was exciting in a way the wolf hadn't had in years, a chill ran all over him and he shivered. That started the lion purring.

When the lion had moved down to massaging his upper arms, the thoughts of the future - where this might be going finally dawned on Chris. He stood there passively as the lion began unbuttoning his shirt from behind. Poor Chris, he was not ashamed of his physique, it wasn't great, wasn't buff, but nothing to be - well - very little - to be embarrassed about, but he suddenly felt very shy and vulnerable.

And as soon the shirt was open, the lion sighed sadly, "Oh this is not what I expected from you. Look at this," and he poked Chris hard in the belly.

"This is sad. Look, this is flabby. You have been neglecting your body. This looks weak. Well I guess I'll try and work with this, but you will have to put in more effort and really work for this."

Chris now felt he'd let the lion down somehow, and made up his mind that he would do this. He would show the lion what he was made of; he was a wolf!

Pulling the shirt back and tucking the body and tails of it up and under its own collar, Castor fixed it so that it would uncover Chris' back almost completely.

With his chest and back exposed, Chris figured the next step should be his pecs getting massaged, - but no. The lion went straight for the belt buckle. And opening it and the zipper, he drew the pants down the wolf's legs, and off. The cross-over boxer-briefs Chris wore didn't leave him exposed, but what he wasn't expecting was that the lion would stop there. From a cabinet in the wall, Castor drew out a long whippy riding crop, its slapper tip about 5 cm long. Chris had never had as much as a bedroom spanking, ever. So he didn't know that he was in for it, nor did he know if he was up for it.

But since the lion seemed more intent on just giving him hard taps with it, it didn't raise any red flags. And after a minute or two, the taps became gentle slaps. Which in turn became firm slaps and then not so gentle slaps. The slaps morphed into spanks that stung and burned even through the cloth. And as the beats sped up, the spanking slowly got more intense. The vibrations of his spanking, ever harder on his back side, seemed to have an equal effect on his front side. While his butt grew stingingly hot, his penis was also getting hotter and very hard. He shifted around keeping the waistband of his boxer briefs from irritating or annoying the glans. This action of his hips was not lost on the lion.

"Good, time to lose these, now," Castor started, but he didn't just pull them down, no. He made a production of it. With very slow motions he pulled the waist band out away from the navel, allowing the cooler air to stimulate, and holding the band out so it didn't snag on Chris' cock he continued sliding them slowly down over the butt, and then down, slowly down the legs. Eventually, they were all the way down prompting Chris to step out of them. Totally naked now, Chris was shocked when, as his eyes watched the lion put his underwear on a small stool, he saw that there were a pair of otters leaning against the wall, with their arms around each others' waists, watching. Wondering what else he had not seen, he twisted the other way only to see a badger grinning from a seat on the other side of the room.

Before Chris could react, the lion distracted him, sayin, "Such a good boy, who's the good boy?" the lion teased. Let's see how you like a blushing backside. And to punctuate the comment, he slowly ran a paw up and down, up and down on both butt cheeks. It wasn't that Chris was horny, well, it wasn't Just that he was horny. Chris was absorbed in the feeling of being touched. Sure, much of it was the lion touching his butt in an amazingly sensual and tender way. True, Chris had never had anyone pay much attention to his butt; sure, lots of pinches, slaps, and in high school there was some goosing, ... Still, no one had ever spent so much time, so slowly, so gently, kneading, massaging, and petting it. It was exciting, and at the same time very intimate, so pleasurable! After a while of cupping, petting, massaging, then even caressing his tail, Castor ran a furry digit down the butt crack, at the same time he ran one finger up the front of Chris' ballsac.

Unprepared for the sudden intensity of these sensations, he gasped in and a moment later sighed out, it felt so amazing, plus he was so keyed up the sigh coming out as a high squeak. Which brought a derisive snort from Castor. He could tell how badly Chris wanted to cum, now.

"Ok, I think it's time to show you a new facet, kick it up a notch. "Well, I'm going to chain your wrists up, not tightly, but you will most likely want to pull against them, and that's ok. It will feel good to pull against them. Do you understand?" Chris didn't understand, but nodded again. Castor gently placed both his paws to Chris' head and turned the muzzle, forcing Chris to look up into his eyes. Chris looked, and looked more. Were they showing tenderness? Or hardness? Or was this guy the Buddha, serenely detached? Castor was smiling, that same small smile - giving nothing away, so maybe guess the Buddha option? What ever it was, his eyes were boring into Chris' mind, for some reason what this stranger thought of Chris mattered a lot. He wanted to please this guy, show him that he was made of the Good Stuff.

Castor began, "I'm going to spank you, and I will do it pretty hard. I want you to be a good wolf, I want you to take it for me. I want you to put up with it, to endure it for me. I promise you; no broken bones, no heavy bruising, no bleeding. First sign of blood, the whole thing stops. So don't bite your lips or tongue or cheeks. But at the end it will be so worth it, you will know tremendous pleasure. Do you have high blood pressure?" Castor released his head. "Shake or nod." Chris shook his head. "Good boy, tell me your break-word and your safe-word."

Chris struggled to focus, to remember, but quickly came to clarity and began to ask, "Do they,..." but before the third word was out, Castor had his paw all the way around Chris' muzzle, "Did I ask you a question?

No, tell me your break and safe words," he ordered.

Chris said, "Pancake-pancake, and blini-blini."

"Good, see if you can keep from using them." Quickly the lion had the wolf's wrists manacled up to the arching legs of the bronze statue. Chris gave a test pull discovering that they were broad enough - padded enough - that they didn't hurt nor bite his wrists at all. And the manacles were where his attention was when the crop hit his butt again.

Chris jerked at the shock and pain. It was unexpected and so he squealed again.

The next one was expected, although they were none of them terribly hard - they were quite hard slaps, and went five up one cheek, and five down the other, five to each side alternating and while they, individually, were nothing to cry about; they were coming quickly enough that the sensation was building really fast, and in his effort not to cry out, Chris started panting, and gasping to keep from grunting. Castor was leaning into whipping that butt, leaving Chris gasping for his breath, and feeling a little light-headed, from so much oxygen perhaps. But he was resolved. He resolved to take it, and he balled up his fists and pulled tight against the wrist restraints. The lion was right, it felt good, he needed to pull against them. It helped him not to cry out - grunting only a bit. His mind was set - he would not cry out, he could take it. Each moment his entire mind was focused - just and only - on the next swat to land. And when that had landed, it filled his brain. It was all his mind could hold just to take the next one, and he succeeded in taking it. The success of each swat, or spank or whip of the crop, made the muscles of his butt bounce and flex, jerk and jump of their own accord. Focusing on his breath, pulling against the manacles, and bearing each successive blow, and when the thought came that, 'Yeah, I'm gonna cry,' and he felt the first tear form, even before it was big enough to run down his muzzle - the lion stopped.

Castor dropped the crop and stepped up and knelt to feel the heat in Chris' butts, stroke them, rub the pain out, just lightly stroke and touch them. Then he stood to pet Chris' back, and rub his head fur. Then giving him a big hug from behind - arms across the chest, Castor asked, saying "What a good boy! You are such a brave pup! You did very very well, ... Are you Ok, Chris?"

Chris was still totally focused on his breathing and the the burning of his butt. It burned, it hurt! He was still a little out of breath. A loud whimper was forced out of his throat when the lion grabbed and gave a squeeze to his cock. His cock was so hard he could not ever remember his erection ever that hard, so boned up.

Castor asked again, "Are you Ok, Chris?" And Chris nodded.

"Well -- now, we need to do some things here," Castor mumbled. From his pocket he pulled three elastic hair ties and so carefully, so gently, he pulled them open and slid them down Chris' cock, not allowing them to touch until they were all the way down, and he released them gently to close over the base of the cock, and under - and behind his ball-sac. Suddenly the sensation in Chris' cock increased. Suddenly it was more sensitive - more needy. The effect was not lost on Castor. Barely touching it, with feather light touches, he pumped it. Slowly, too slowly to bring Chris off, Castor brought Chris to the brink. Chris was bucking and grunting wanting more!

But the lion pumped so slowly, watching every twitch and jerk of Chris' body leaning in, aching for more. OMG, that stroking felt so good, Chris whimpered again, wishing only to feel more of those fingers, that soft paw wrapped around his cock or pulling back on his knot... He was so hard, so pent up, so ready to explode. It was amazing what he was feeling; he was primed - he was ready - just needing a little more - just a pump or two - to go over the top. He thrust his hips forward again to get the last little bit to go over,...

Which he was abruptly denied.

As wonderful as the touch had been, it shocked Chris when it stopped. He was suddenly aware that the lion was standing in front of him again; holding a buckskin flogger.

"Have you ever been flogged?" Chris shook his muzzle, no. "Do you know anything about sub-space?" Chris shook his head no, again. Castor raised a paw to Chris' face and so gently caressed it, stroked the fur on his cheeks tenderly. "What a good boy, what a brave boy you've been. I'm going to do something else to you for a while, but again I promise, no blood or injury, it will just hurt a bit. But you are a brave one, aren't you? You will take it from me, because you are brave and strong and tough, and I want this from you. Will you take it, for me, for your great reward?" Chris shook his head to clear it, but then slowly nodded his assent.

"Such a Good Boy! You are doing very well," the lion intoned petting Chris' head.

Chris thrilled to these tender caresses! Arching his back, whining, pushing his hips out, Chris showed where he desperately needed touching, missing that hot intimacy. Still panting a bit, still breathing hard from the earlier exertion Chris felt so alive, aware of his heart beating, feeling his blood pounding everywhere; in his arms, his feet, especially in his buttocks and his cock. His butt really burned and he was confused by his cock being so hard, so wanting; it was intense, it was amazing. And he wanted the great reward, wanted to have someone/anyone grab his cock and finish himself off right there, and he pulled against his manacles in frustration.

And just to stop the frustration, the handsome lion began to use the soft buckskin flogger starting on the back. It was nothing at first, just the sensations like a soft rag thrown against his back. And that lasted for a while. Chris didn't know how long... he was paying total attention to where it would hit next, for the lion now hit here, now there, first hard, then soft so that the poor wolf never knew what to expect, didn't know where, how hard, and the damned lion was now using it to whip his shoulders, his upper arms, his chest, all over. Chris kept turning his head to try to see where it would sting next. Castor zeroed in on this and stopped long enough to grab a blind-fold from the cabinet.

"Ach, you poor pup," the lion whispered close to his ear, tying the silk about his head, blinding him, "This will help prevent whiplash," and prevented a laugh from the wolf by giving a hard slap to Chris' butt - making him jump. Picking up the flogger Castor renewed his assault on Chris, flogging the fur across his belly, on the nipples and pecs, the buttocks again, the outer thighs, inner thighs, calves, then back to the upper arms, and the back. And still pausing after every ten or fifteen slaps to give Chris' erection a few pumps, to maintain its interest in the proceedings.

Strung up like a prize ham Chris could only prance and and flinch, never knowing where the sensations would come from with the next slap. In the darkness it was timeless, and Chris found his hearing muted except for the thhwhap and slap of the flogger, so all his attention focused on the sensations on his skin, stinging - burning - throbbing - every time just a little bit harder, rarely in the same place twice. It didn't really hurt, but burned or stung, but not like a bee sting, more like a raw chafing. Slowly making him feel like he was glowing, so flushed, so hot all over! And never knowing when or if there would be a pause, not knowing how hard his penis would be stroked, nor how many times. Knowing, only knowing, that he was burning to cum and so on the edge. He was in the fire, burning everywhere, everything was aflame stinging, burning tortured, he wanted it to stop so badly, but that was also the problem; where he was - was so close to the peak, so very close to coming, this feeling so exciting. The wonderful churning of his feelings rushing through him; from pulling against his fastened wrists, that relief of tension, the taboo-ness of this kink, the weird shame of being naked - but not knowing who was watching - the breathless thrill every time the flogging stopped. And he was getting close, so very close from the edging he was getting, soon soon, soon, he was almost.

Suddenly the flogging stopped. Castor must have picked up the whippy-crop again, because suddenly Chris heard the whoosh, then the white hot flash-burn pain of the whip across both butt cheeks! It lit him up! Oh, waiting for the next to come....

But it stopped, it all stopped, and Castor ordered him, "Now, cum!" Swatting him again, the hardest of all.

And he did!

Chris had his first hands free ejaculation. Pulling against his arms bound up high, leaning into the stretch, rising to his tip toes to force his cock toward anything it could touch. It felt like squirting pints.

This feeling, so far above anything he'd ever experienced, it lasted longer than time itself, his whole body was consumed by the fire that was this eruption, it drained everything he was, and the wolf finally sagged, ended up drained suspended limp, hanging from the manacles wrapped around his wrists. He began to shake, weeping quietly, now that it was all over.

Castor was there immediately removing the blind-fold, unbuckling the cuffs, with a cold wet towel washing, wiping the wolf's face, muzzle cooling him, checking him over. There was a small round of applause, as four or five people moved slowly out of the room and back to their previous conversations. Someone moved closer to watch the after care. Castor pulled Chris up into a hug, and pet his back, as Chris calmed down. The gentle hug almost made him cry out, now that it was all over. It was more tender than he could imagine after what he'd been through. And he felt amazing, he felt so wonderful! Sure, totally drained. But this was closer to heaven than he had ever felt in his life. With all the passion he had, he hugged the lion back, even as he started weeping, again, gently. He felt so close to this lion, whose touch was so tender.

Someone shouted, called out, "Castor? Castor!"

And then spoke his name, "uh,... Chris?

... Chris? Is that you?" Mark asked.

It was a most unexpected interruption.