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The end of the month is always a special time for me. It's when my husband goes all-out to make me happy: gifts, date nights, breakfast in bed, taking care of the kids for me, the whole nine yards. The fact that he has an ulterior motive never really affects my enjoyment.

This month he really went all out. He'd already taken me out to dinner at my favourite restaurant, the Mexican place down the road. On the weekend he'd taken care of the cubs while I went to the spa for a nice long treatment. That had been nothing short of heaven. They'd carefully washed and conditioned and trimmed my fur, gave my claws a full manicure and pedicure, and gave me the most thorough massage of my life. They even massaged my tail! Even a day after, I was completely relaxed.

Lucky for him, the last day of the month was a school day - hours of uninterrupted, cub-free time to ourselves. He had to take the day off work, of course, but that was fine - his boss is an understanding guy. When I woke up in the morning, it was to my favourite Seal album playing softly through the house. My husband wasn't in bed beside me, but that was expected. The first stretch of the morning is the best - feeling joints pop and settle, and muscles stirred from rest. As I expected, he'd left a bell on the bedside table for me, next to my water glass. I didn't ring it straight away. First, I wanted to get ready. I threw the sheets off, letting them pile on the floor. My nightie followed, leaving me completely naked. I sat up, propping my pillows up behind my back to get comfortable. And finally, I spread my legs wide, leaving myself completely exposed. Then, I rang the bell.

I barely heard my husband coming before the door opened slightly, and he peeked through the gap. It was almost adorable the way he checked, just in case - he didn't want to risk waking me. As soon as he'd verified that I was awake, he pushed the door all the way open and came in, holding a serving tray.

My husband was a handsome man when we first got together, and nothing has changed since. While I've put on weight in my belly and my thighs, he's still lean and fairly fit. That mane of his is the biggest, darkest, most glorious thing I've seen in my life, and the rare instances that he sees fit to roar make me go weak in the knees. Shuffling in with that tray though, his head was down, barely daring to flick glances between my legs. He's well-endowed enough that being confined to pants when he's hard is painful - and given that he was very much hard indeed, he'd had to go without. I was very careful to not even look down at him, to smile, to even seem glad to see him. It was all part of the game. "Good morning," I told him, with a carefully-crafted dismissive tone - doing my best to sound like I was only saying it because I was obliged to.

"Good morning, darling. Here...I did it all the way you love it..." he told me, his voice soft, as meek as he could manage it. It wasn't easy, with a voice as low-pitched as his. He set the tray down for me, then leant in to give me a kiss on the muzzle.

I put my hand on his face and pushed him away. "Do you think that you've earned that?" I asked him, still keeping my tone bored.

He pulled back immediately. "No, nono, you're right. I'm sorry, darling..." he told me.

I lifted my foot slightly, and wiggled my toes. "You've earned kissing these," I told him as I started eating.

He didn't hesitate in the slightest to climb onto the foot of the bed, and start showering both of my feet in kisses, even licking between my toes to show his devotion. I pretended that the roughness of his tongue didn't feel good. My husband's cock dangled underneath him - staining the bed with pre that literally drooled from the tip

"Don't you dare look up," I told him without taking my eyes off of the toast I was buttering. I knew how tempted he'd be to look between my legs - that was why I'd stripped down in the first place. He didn't respond verbally, but the attention that he was giving my paws doubled - like he was desperately trying to get me to reconsider. I didn't. My husband and I have been together for fourteen years, and married for ten of those. We have three cubs together. We haven't had sex since the first year we were a couple. And I treat my husband the way I do because I love him with all my heart.

We'd had quite a lot of sex before he'd felt comfortable telling me about his deepest kink. Now, we pretend that he's never been allowed to have sex with me at all. He gets off on neglect - on being treated like his pleasure doesn't matter in the slightest, and that my pleasure is the only thing that's important. In our relationship, I get the pleasure. I get the orgasms. I get to grab him by the mane and hold his mouth to me. I get a collection of sex toys that'd make the most dedicated nymphomaniac blush. My husband? He's not even allowed to stroke himself, when he could be pleasing me instead.

The end of the month is the pay-off, for him. For one day, all the hard work to please me is rewarded. A month's worth of pent-up need milked out of him piece by piece. But even when I'm giving him the reprieve that he's so desperate for, I'm still neglecting him. It's an act, nothing but a game - but it drives my husband wild.

My husband loves being neglected so much that he wasn't even allowed to have sex with me to have our children. I impregnated myself with tools using his sperm, rather than let him have the pleasure of doing it himself.

He was extra-desperate, and for good reason - the previous month, he hadn't gotten his reward. It hadn't been his fault: the second-last day of the month, he took me for a romantic carriage ride. Or at least he'd tried to: the place had made a mistake with the booking. I'm a bit guilty at just how funny I found the look of panic on his face when we found out. As much as I understood and personally didn't mind, that's not how our relationship works: he hadn't bribed me enough to care about his pleasure, so why should I milk his balls dry? I spent the next day using my toys while he watched, instead.

Being pent up for two months was all but driving him nuts. Every time he hugged me I felt his erection, and I repaid him by sitting on his face and enjoying his tongue. Early in the month, he's allowed to hug me, kiss me, hold my hand, eat me out...it's only when we draw closer to the end that I start deliberately distancing myself from him. It only makes him eager for more.

I finished my breakfast with him still kissing my feet - I repaid my husband's loving dedication by putting both feet on his face, and shoving him backwards. He fell off the bed with a thump, but not a complaint. "I'm done. Where's my gift?" I asked him. Actually, _demanded_is probably the better word to use.

"It's here, let me get it," he replied dutifully. He stood and moved over to our wardrobe, and retrieved a box from the bottom of the cupboard. He'd tied it up with a ribbon, and attached a hand-made card to the top. If anything, he was even harder when he came over to deposit it on the bed next to me. His member was sticking straight out, bobbing slightly in time with his heartbeat, the tip drooling a string of precum that dripped down to splatter on the floorboards. I only caught it out of the corner of my eye - I pointedly refused to look at it properly. I took the box and handed him the breakfast tray, and he hurried out to take it back to the kitchen. I waited for my husband to get back before I opened the gift. First was the card - I made a show of opening it, reading it, then giving a snort and tossing it aside. From the corner of my eye I saw another drop slide from his tip.

Inside the box was something I'd very much expected - a brand-new toy, and a large one at that. It was a dragon-shaped dildo - a shape I'm very fond of - covered in ridges and bumps, with a fat knot at the base. Fat is perhaps a bit of a mild description - just the shaft of the toy was as thick as my forearm, and the knot was even bigger. Like the rest of the favourites in my collection, he'd bought it with a suction cup on the bottom and a tube to squirt lube through - or when we were trying for our third cub, my husband's semen. The new toy was the biggest yet; before I had my children, I doubt I could ever had handled it. It was my husband who started purchasing larger and larger toys - I suspect that it's some kind of inadequacy kink, but he gets evasive every time I ask. That's fine by me - not everything needs to be said out loud to be enjoyed. He's a lucky man that I discovered that I enjoy large toys too, however!

I plucked the toy from the box and inspected the heavy lump of silicone, turning it this way and that in my hand. It was a beautiful design - deep purple, with a gold stripe running from the tip all the way along the underside to the sculpted testicles. My husband was watching me with an expression of nervous hope as I studied the toy, not letting any of my happiness show on my face. After a pause, I finally spoke. "It'll do, I suppose," I said aloud. His face absolutely lit up. I finally looked at him square-on as he stared at the toy, licking his lips. "Excuse me? I told you not to dare look at my pussy...do you really think I've changed my mind? Turn around, I'm not going to have_you_ ogling me while I enjoy my gift," I told him, keeping my voice as cold as I could.

My husband let out a strangled sound, a cross between a moan and a cub's cry. He obediently spun around to face away, however, his tail thrashing. "Do you want me to pass you anything?" he asked, his voice thick - he was getting so desperate that he sounded like he was about to cry.

"Lubricant, the white rabbit, the pink rabbit, and my blue canine," I ordered him, shuffling myself down the bed to lay flat and getting my pillows sorted to make myself comfortable. There's no way that I can take my bigger toys without preparing myself - which is just another chance to extend his torment. He grabbed the toys I asked for from the locked cupboard beside our bed, and passed them to me behind his back. I took them without a word of thanks and got settled in, pressing one of my feet into the small of his back. He sat up straighter at the touch, his breath coming hard. He had two big handfuls of the mattress, and he squeezed it like crazy - resisting the urge to touch himself.

I wasn't in any rush.

I worked my way through half of my toy collection, slowly working up through larger and larger toys. I'm normally a bit vocal when I'm being pleasured - but I exaggerated it, just for his benefit. I moaned like a porn star as I used my toys, squirming and rolling my hips on the bed - my toe-claws involuntarily digging into his back each and every time I came. I lost track, but I could have counted the marks on his back if I cared to know how many orgasms I had.

When I was finished with a toy I dropped it carelessly on the bed and ordered him to clean it -without using his tongue. He obeyed, of course, wiping them down with toy cleaner and setting them aside, just in case I wanted them again. The larger the toy, the more noise - from my mouth, and my body. I don't like the wet slurps or the sound of air being forcibly expelled that goes hand-in-hand with the big toys - but he does, so I used far more lube than necessary. By the time I'd reached the new toy, the sound of it sliding into me completely drowned out the stereo. I found that I didn't mind at that point - he'd chosen_perfectly._ The feeling of that purple dragon slowly stretching me around it was one of the most exquisite things I've ever experienced. By the time I even reached the knot - let alone started trying to force it in - I was a quivering wreck. It's rare for me to reach the point where I actually squirt...but with that toy, the moment I finally forced that obscenely large knot in, I_soaked_ our bed. It's a good thing that we have a protector over the mattress!

I lay there basking in the afterglow for at least a minute or two, listening to my husband's heavy breathing - almost as heavy as my own. Pulling the dragon out of me was a real effort, after the morning's exertion. I let out a long groan as it came out, which my husband answered with one of his own - followed by an almost pathetic whimper when he heard the _slurp_of it coming free. I decided to make him even more desperate. "I bet you're desperate to see me right now, aren't you? This is the most I've ever gaped," I told him with as much casual arrogance as I could muster. Which wasn't much, given how out-of-breath I was. It wasn't a lie - after having that purple-and-gold monster inside of me, I could put two fingers in without touching my walls. Even three fingers barely grazed the sides. The feeling of air kissing that hot flesh sent a shiver up my spine. "Underwear," I ordered.

He made a desperate wordless sound as he complied, fishing out a pair of panties for me and handing them over without looking. I wasn't about to let him enjoy the sight, and he knew it!

I took a few more moments to collect myself before gingerly lowering my paws to the floor and standing up. That's the downside of pushing your limits...the act itself is amazing, but the aftermath tends to be aching and full of funny walks. I winced, shifting my weight from foot to foot to get myself a bit more used to the pain. Just standing up had already soaked my panties through with excess lube and my own juices - the black fabric wasn't see-through when wet, but it clung intimately to my body, showing my husband every fold and line that he was never allowed to fuck. I moved around in front of him and looked down at him - taking care to wipe the goofy smile from my face in order to put on my proper expression. "Well, I suppose you did alright. Better than last month, certainly. I guess you're expecting some sort of reward?" I asked him, extending the claws on one hand to study them.

He nodded desperately, staring up at me with tears of need in his eyes. His cock was the hardest I'd seen in a while - the bright red deepening to an angry purple at the tip that constantly drooled pre. I would have felt horrible to put him in such a state, if I didn't know for sure that he was having the time of his life at that point.

I kept studying my claws for a moment...then rolled my eyes, and sighed heavily. "Fine. I suppose I'll let you get off..." I told him. I waited a couple of heartbeats for the best impact, watching his face light up with relief. Then I crushed it right back down again. "Later. I have better things to do than drain your balls. I'm getting clean. You put away the toys, then strip the sheet off the bed, and put everything into the wash. And spray some air freshener in here," I ordered him, before collecting my clothes and heading for the shower.

Before I left the bedroom, I gave his cock a light, careless slap with a hand. He let out a gurgling sound and braced himself against the wall so that his knees wouldn't drop out from under him. I laughed at him on the way out.

I made sure to take a nice, long, indulgent shower of course. I showered until the hot water started to run out, and the bathroom was absolutely full of steam. Sure, it'd be a bit of an unnecessary hit to the utility bill, but it was worth it. I considered bringing my husband in to clean me, but reconsidered given his state - he was likely to blow his load all over the shower the moment the hot water hit him. I couldn't let that happen - we do something special with his semen when it's time for his milking. After my shower I towelled off the worst of the water, then stepped into the dryer booth to finish the job - the hot air blasting my fur from all directions is something I've always enjoyed. Finally, I got dressed in a t-shirt, jeans, and clean panties, and headed out. No bra - seeing my nipples through my shirt would be more torture for him.

I came out of the bathroom and went to the lounge, where I sat down in my chair and turned on the TV. I started up a stream of my latest favourite drama and settled in to watch. I completely ignored my husband when he slunk over and began kissing my feet. Well, for a while at least. I eventually looked down at him, and give him a look of annoyed disgust. "Can't you tell I'm trying to watch my show? Fine, I'll let you cum, if it'll make you leave me alone," I told him. I pointed at the coffee table. "Get the things and get in your spot. And don't make a sound, I'm trying to hear," I ordered.

He was off like a shot, as fast as he could go and still be quiet. He knew for sure now that he was finally getting relief. He came back with the plastic box that held his little 'milking kit'. He set it down on the coffee table, then went to fetch my stool. He put that in position, then climbed onto the table to wait - his tail lifted, his legs spread as wide as he could on the narrow tabletop, his shaft hanging below him. With one hand he reached back into the box and retrieve a drinking glass, which he placed underneath his cock.

He'd begged and paid and spoiled me enough, and I was finally deigning to lower myself to let him ejaculate. That didn't mean that I was going to do it happily of course - that would be out of character for our little game. I let him wait a while before I finally sighed and climbed out of my recliner to instead take a seat on the stool. After the dragon, I regretted not getting one with more padding. Before anything else happened, I had to get ready - I took a carton of thick latex gloves from the box and pulled on a pair. He couldn't expect me to touch his cock with bare paws, after all. That slap in the bedroom had only come because I was right about to wash up! The bottom of the glass was already covered by dripping pre-cum. Before I even touched his cock, though, I had something else to do - I took out his humbler, and carefully attached it. It's a pair of bars that fit snugly against his legs and screw together - with a notch for his balls to neatly fit through. It pulls his balls down just like a cuff, with the bonus of keeping his ass in the air, and making him unable to move his legs without yanking on his balls. The perfect thing to show that I don't care for his comfort, just getting the chore done. He's long enough to easily hang below the humbler, letting me milk him from behind with no problems.

With that in place, I could get the chore started. I took up the bottle of lube and squeezed some out onto my fingers, spreading it onto both hands. That done, I wrapped the finger on my right hand around that hot, rock-hard shaft. I squeezed it firmly, and he let out a desperate groan. I wasn't even looking at him, and he knew it - we'd placed a decorative mirror on the wall in the perfect spot for him to see the bored mask I was still wearing on my face, and the fact that my eyes were still glued to the TV. "Shh," I scolded sharply, and gave him a single stroke.

That was enough to set him off. I could feel his cock throb in my hand with each and every shot that fired from his tip. Once a month for thirteen years I've milked my husband this way - I didn't even have to look to aim his tip at the drinking glass and catch every single drop. He nearly roared from the bliss of finally getting to shoot a load after being denied so long - he crammed both hands into his mouth to stifle it, his face falling to the tabletop with a loud thump. His balls were visibly twitching, trying to pull up towards his body - a movement denied by the humbler.

I didn't look away from my show. "Already? You're supposed to want pleasure, but you ruin it right away? Typical," I muttered with disdain. "Fine then, I suppose I'll have to do this the hard way..." I added with a long-suffering sigh. I retrieved a rubber cock-ring from the toy box and slid it over his shaft to the base - not that he needed help keeping his erection at that point. Despite already shooting off at the slightest touch, he was horny enough to stay hard as a rock. That would change though. Once it was in place, I moved my other hand up, and pushed a single finger into my husband's tailhole.

I often wonder if he enjoys it solely for the sensations of me rubbing his prostate, or if it's some deeper sexuality-related kink. All I know is that nothing gets my husband off more than working his rear, and I'm happy to oblige. For the fantasy, it would be better to just jump right in - ram a dildo into his ass and force him to cum. After a month or two of being completely neglected, however, that would just hurt him. I carefully walk the line between being careless towards his comfort, and_actually_ hurting him.

I waited for the muffled sounds he was making to die down and the clenching around my finger to subside before I began properly fingering him - first one gloved finger, then a second. I know precisely where to stimulate for the best response - I know my husband's prostate like the back of my own hand. I pressed on it nice and firmly, and snuck a glance at his curling toes before returning to the TV.

And that was how it went - I paid as little attention to my husband as I possibly could, while jerking him off and working his prostate, trying to milk him dry. Every time he came, it shot down to collect in the glass. I worked up to three fingers in his ass, then four. When that was no longer enough, I moved on to toys - the first time I slipped a vibrator in to hit his prostate and turned it to max, it was finally too much for him. He removed his saliva-covered hands from his mouth and let out a roar of bliss as he ejaculated yet again. My response was to scold him, of course. "What did I tell you about noise?" I demanded, releasing his shaft but leaving the vibrator inside of him.

"I'm sorry...sorry Mistress...sorry..." was the whispered reply. He only calls me Mistress when I'm using his tailhole - it's cute.

"Not good enough. It's bad enough that I have to do this now, without listening to you," I told him. I took his ball gag from the box, and went to his mouth - shoving it in, rather than waiting for him to obediently open his mouth. I made sure to do it up nice and tight, too. While I was at it, I put a pair of leather mittens over his paws - to stop him from clawing the coffee table. I paused for just a moment when I was done. "Good?" I murmured.

His response was a freshly-mute nod, and a look of sheer adoration.

With my husband silenced, I went back to milking him. At some point I knew it would begin hurting for him along with the pleasure - no matter how well I lubricated, his cock was going to ache and start getting red-raw from the constant gliding of my gloved paw along his considerable length, and his tailhole was going to start aching from the use. That wasn't going to stop me, though - I only stop when he runs dry. The only reprieve he got was after each half-hour, when I removed the cock-ring and humbler, and made him stand up to let the blood circulate again. After an hour, I took his gag out and (grudgingly, of course) gave him some water and food. After each break, however, it was back on the table, toys back on, and back to milking. When my hands got tired, I used one of the strap-ons - putting it on over my clothes, and fucking my husband with it. He seems to especially love that - it was enough to briefly boost the waning volume of his ejaculations.

It's fascinating to watch his loads change as he starts to run dry. At first, his load is thick, strong, and plentiful - obviously full of nice, fertile sperm. It plops_thickly down into the glass, and clings to the side in globs that slowly drop down. The more he cums, though, the more watery it gets. My husband is _very productive, especially with an extra month of being cooped up, but he has his limits. The loads get thinner and smaller as I force him to cum again and again and again. By the end of the session, he was semi-conscious from the lust overload - his eyes rolled back in his head, and his cock twitching in vain as it tried to ejaculate with simply nothing left. After three dry shots in a row, I decided that he was done. The glass was half-full with his semen - thicker at the bottom, running through to almost clear at the top.

I popped the last toy I used - a vibrator shaped like a dog cock, which put the most intense vibrations right on the magic spot, and gave his ass a gentle slap. "Wake up. You're done. I give you your reward and you're passing out on me? Disappointing," I told him - my tone not quite as dismissive as I wanted it to be.

"Mrrrf," was his tired response. So he was still on the planet - though just barely, it seemed!

I took the cock-ring off for the last time, and he immediately wilted. His cock was red and rather tender-looking, but I'm sure he thought it was just as worthwhile as the ache between my own legs. I undid the humbler and took the collection glass out from under him - he responded by immediately collapsing down and rolling onto his side with a long groan.

"You aren't done yet," I told him. I moved around to his head and loosened the ball gag. He'd been drooling around it, and the table - and his mane - was soaked with saliva. I took hold of his mane with one hand, helping him lift his head up. Then I brought the glass to his lips.

My husband took his time to drink down his collected semen - his gaze locked on mine the entire time. He gulped it down steadily, without a single pause - and once it had all gone, he licked what he could of the glass. I pulled it away when he was done, and he gave me an exhausted smile. "I love you so, so much..." he told me.

"I know, and I do too. It's why I treat you like the worthless sack of shit you are," I replied - but with the dominant voice completely gone, and replaced with playfulness.

"Please, no more..." was his groaned response, as he gingerly cupped his aching manhood with a paw. "Getting hard won't be the good pain any more."

"I suppose I can show some mercy..." I replied. I took the mittens off of his hands and dropped them on the floor, then helped him over to the couch. He flopped heavily on it, and I lay next to him, pressed against his chest. These moments were the most enjoyable to me - not the toys, or the orgasms, or the being in control. The moments when the game was over, and we could take the time to just lay together as equals in love. I glanced at the clock, then touched noses with him. "An hour before it's time to get the cubs," I told him.

"Hrnf," he grunted in response.

"Don't worry, I'll pick them up. You've had a big day," I said with a smile, giving him another kiss. His mouth tasted like his own cum.

"You spoil me too much," was his exhausted but sincere reply. He squeezed me tighter, then drifted off to sleep. I took the time to enjoy the cuddling, before it was time to clean up, get him dressed, and get the cubs from school.

And then, then the game would start anew...