The Lunt Street Ripper’s Sentence (9)
#9 of The Ripper Wolf (BDSM, Mind Control)
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Continued mind control fun for
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In the dungeon beneath the wine cellars of the opulent stately mansion, the overreaching sound was that of gentle fingerpads sliding over and over again over wet, slippery flesh. James stood in front of the wolf trussed up on the bondage cross hanging from the stone ceiling, the tiger servant's paw being responsible for stimulating the latest addition to the household as per their Master's orders. The tiger's tail swung slowly, as if in tune to the endless rhythm of his fingers, moving mechanically over the wolf's meaty cock. It was angry red and hard, pulsing and pumping in the tiger's light grip, but showed no signs of climax despite the copious amounts of fluids that kept dripping down onto the tiled floor in the little space that separated the two males.
The wolf was unsure what to think of the experience. He could feel a pressure, but little else for the moment. He had heard cocaine mentioned and then something had been put onto his cock and suddenly all the feelings coming through it, unwanted as they were, became dulled in a strange way. He could tell that the fingers were there, but the usual pulses of pleasure he associated with his cock came only occasionally. Each of them caused the hidden muscles of his rear to clench down around the ivory plug occupying his anus. He'd given up on attempts to squeeze it out as if he was taking a crap, for the feeling of fullness had not changed despite his best efforts, and he seemed to remember straps being mentioned.
He truly was tied up. They'd even tied up that fucking thing to make sure it wouldn't drop out of his arse. He'd also had to stop trying to get it out when he realized that each time sent out a strange sensation down into his belly and into his nuts. They were itching, too, and he wondered dully if the powder had been put there, too.
Strange use for cocaine, the wolf thought. He knew the sort who used it, ingesting the powder or injecting it to find a little piece of oblivion. Something for the opium dens that he despised. The furs who stumbled out of them smelled terrible and provided no pleasure for a hunt through the streets of the city. They were wrecks, and there was no thrill in tasting their blood. They'd lost the carnal fires that made their flesh supple to bite on and taste their blood over his tongue, whether high born or the lowest of the low. Once they'd gone for the ruin of opium, cocaine and gin, they ceased to be interesting. The shuffling, stinking shadows thrilled the wolf none.
His mind felt almost as full as his cock. His thoughts flowed slowly. The wolf wondered whether they'd given the dulling potion to him otherwise, too, to make him stop more amenable. Were they that afraid of him? He felt a hint of pleasure at that thought, a small amount of agreement among his seething anger for every single fur populating this household. They seemed to be afraid enough that they didn't even trust the hard metal and thick leather that shrouded his body. He had tested out the resistance it provided and decided that it was not a fight he could win. it would do him better to spare his strength for another attempt, when he would not be as harshly bound. It was like the prison...the cold metal chains all over him, made to do his piss on himself for the fear of tearing onto their necks if they'd help him out to use the privy.
Fools.
Their flesh would bring little pleasure for him. The guards stank worse than the whores that would stalk the streets in the hopes of finding a drunken man or two to indulge in their lusts. The Ripper stayed far away from those kind. No thrill.
He didn't know much about it, but he could tell that there was no lust in the movement of the tiger's fingers over his prick. The wolf knew from experience of his own that the horse's commands made them to do things they didn't want to do. Was the horse keen on punishing the males by forcing them to bugger one another? Was this tiger as much for the wet cunt as the horse seemed to enjoy buggering the wolf. The Ripper growled at the thought. He'd been made to watch...and he had been unable to look away, like something had locked the muscles around his neck to stop him from turning it away when the horse had told him to watch. And those bastards rubbing them off on him...the only thing about the humiliating cold water bath before was that at least it'd taken away the stink of the males from before.
"H_hurh_," the wolf growled.
The tiger's ears flicked automatically. A small part of him was terrified on the wolf in front of him, the faceless, dark figure, the only speck of color the thick cock that protruded from his groin and rested against James' palm. The Indian tiger was hard himself, too. His barbed prick was almost as hard as that of the wolf, perhaps even more so thanks to the metal rings. A deeply primal part of his mind, one that remained relatively untouched by the Master's Will was urging him to grab himself and stroke himself, just like he was doing to the wolf. He had been unable to do so for such a long time, being told not to spill his seed without his permission. He could put his fingers on himself for reliving himself and the like, but stroking himself...his paw seemed to lose interest, somehow, even if his mind was screaming for release for his trapped seed.
"Good servants do not spill their seed on their own."
It sounded like he could hear the horse's voice echoing in his mind, over and over again and overcoming the voice of his own inner mind, the one that whispered in the clipped tones of Bengali and spoke of gentle lust, the kind he felt and enjoyed, the voice that knew what his body liked and wanted. The extremely soft, smooth voice of the horse faded in whenever he tried to concentrate on his own thoughts. The persistent whisper of the stallion's Will had a habit of coming up on those moments, and its sultry murmur continued until he would forget, at least for a while.
"Enjoy the feel of your brother's hard prick on your paw, James, that's what you like."
The tiger blinked, and looked at the hard, swollen cock in his paw. His own pads were feeling rather numb as a result of the cocaine powder on them, as well. The effect wasn't quite as pronounced, he thought. He knew what it felt like, to have that powder on his shaft, being milked over and over again without being able to result in spilling his milky seed all over himself. His Master had made sure of that...pushed to the very limit before the stroking would cease and he was to remain unfulfilled and needing.
"You enjoy hard, warm cocks in your paws, in your muzzle and up your tight little arse."
His tailhole clenched nervously. Something about the feeling felt as alien as it felt good for him, and the muscle spasm made his own cock jump a little. The drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip was unseated and dribbled down so that the heavy dribble became a long, narrow ribbon that hung like spittle from the corner of a hungry maw desiring a succulent bite of meat. The tiger's balls churned with pent up energy as much as they were packed with his needy seed. His tail gave a swing as he imagined it all coming out in hard spurts of blinding pleasure, like the last time he'd been allowed to cum. The tiger could purr at the thought...and found himself in reverie of it, too, but another huffing breath from the wolf caused him to snap out of it.
He swallowed and squeezed his fingers as they slid effortlessly over the oiled, musk-soaked skin on the veined, meaty wolf cock in his paw. His own prick pulsed, untouched and needing.
"Hurmhpph."
"Are you enjoying this, brother?" the tiger asked, his paw continuing to work like the piston of a steam engine, unquestioningly fulfilling its mechanical purpose at the task.
"No," the Ripper barked out.
James' ears flicked. The tiger felt no anxiety at it, though. The horse had ensured that all his thralls felt implicit trust for one another, and the tiger's feelings for the latest addition to the house would not be an exception. They'd been told that they could not harm one another even if such a thought might pass through their mind "in a state of confusion" as the horse had put it, whispered into the tiger's ear when he'd been under the influence of the stallion's herbal concoction at the time when his commands had been placed for the very first time by the horse.
"Master likes us hard and full of seed," the tiger replied, "it's what he wants."
"Fuck him," the wolf sneered.
The tiger let out a nervous giggle.
"He don't go for that, brother," the tiger said, "he likes his arse licked and kissed and played with fingers but he doesn't like getting buggered methinks. Never seen or heard of it, at least..."
"Humph," the Ripper grunted.
The tiger looked curiously at the wolf, in his bindings, unmoving, and hooded, a faceless figure with a jutting cock.
"He'll want you to fuck us, and us to fuck you," the tiger said, conviction provided by the words of the stallion whispering in his mind, as well as his own memories of such events at the dark rooms of the house, "it's the Master's Will."
The Ripper sneered, another spray of spittle coming out the holes on his leather muzzle. The tiger almost balked with surprise, his whiskers waving with the flow of air, but he remained where he was, paw moving on the wolf's rampart erection.
"Can't he find sodomites who actually want to get buggered?" the wolf snarled.
"It's our Master's will," the tiger said. His mind drew a blank on that question, and he didn't know what else to answer, but the stock reply to the horse's very simple affirmation. If he wanted something done, it had to be done for that reason.
"Hurh," the Ripper growled.
James took his paw away from the wolf's cock and replaced it with his other. He flexed, fisted and extended the fingers on the paw that'd been working on the wolf's shaft for a long time already, and kept exercising his digits while the other paw took over the stroking on the Ripper's thick tool.
"You'll feel good once this is over," the tiger told the wolf," you'll feel warm and tingly and good...you'll get a nice meal and silk to wear, and maybe Master will ask you to play with him...he might ask me to play with him...like he's not playing with Robert and Pip...oh it would be jolly, brother! Might let us cum..."
The wolf grumbled. His ordeal by strange paws from someone who smelled like a cat wasn't over yet, and he was sure that he wasn't going to be getting any other tidbits of information out of him, now that the boy seemed to have slipped back into some kind of a strange state where he dreamed of the freedom of getting his balls drained. The Ripper sometimes wondered on the endless chase for that so many furs were entangled in. He knew his own ways of finding such rapture were different, but he knew they were right...for him.
Perhaps he could get through this, thinking about the exhilaration of the chase, the stalking, and the bite...the rush of blood, and utter pleasure.
"Wouldn't that be jolly..." the tiger sounded even more hopeful as he repeated his wish for a good climax, and it made his bound cock throb with need.
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