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In Sheep’s Clothing

Chapter 1 – A Tenant’s Secret

By Rix Writes

Everyone in the world of kink has a different story. So many people can look back to something in their life that really solidified their fetishes and preferences. For me, my love for older guys comes from the fact I had a crush on my school’s vice principal. He was a hard-ass, didn’t put up with bullshit from any of the students, but he still knew when to let kids be kids. He was a middle-aged raccoon with a bit of a gut, and oh man… he’s the reason I realized I really liked guys. Women are nice too, make no mistake, but I’m much more attracted to men.

As for my love of spanking, well, that’s kind of embarrassing. And sad. I was a bit of a terror when I was young. I got into so much trouble I made my mom almost literally pull her head-fur out in frustration. I mean, I was diagnosed with ADHD at some point, and medication helped a bit, but that’s not the point. Now, first of all, I’d like to say, neither mom or dad ever abused me. But dad… well, he did spank me, but only when it was something truly serious. Dangerous. Monumentally stupid. Like the one day that I’d been caught throwing eggs at passing cars on the highway from one of the bridges. When he was done, he’d wipe my tears and tell me that he loved me. He died when I was ten years old. And I think I would have given anything to have one of those spankings again. But enough of the sad.

Today, I’m in love with a wonderful guy. Have been for almost fifteen years. He’s about fifteen years older than me, and he makes me happy. I didn’t like some of the names they called him for our age difference. And because he knew me when I was fifteen. I know there are people that fit those names, but he doesn’t. The shit we both had to deal with is why we’re both super sensitive of the groomers and the phebes that try to worm their way into the community. He’ll notice when someone’s being creepy with a younger newcomer to a munch or some event and send me their way.

But that first time with him. Fuck. I felt so awkward at first. But you’ll understand why.

It was a Friday night, and while some of my coworkers were out partying or doing whatever ‘normal’ people do, I was sitting in the back of a cozy little independent coffee shop finishing my third cup of coffee in an hour and looking down at my message history with Ramshorn. We’d been chatting online for about a month now, and hadn’t exchanged any face pics yet, but a few below-the-neck images had shown me a body that was near-perfect to me. He had just enough of a belly to fit that dad-bod kind of look that I had come to love, with pale grey fur and a thick mantle of wool on his shoulders and chest. He had a piercing through his sheath that I envied a great deal. I wanted one of those, but had never been able to screw up the courage to let some one put a hole through my junk.

I’d found Ramshorn on a then-popular website for kink enthusiasts, just at the time that it was starting to get populated with fake profiles and more creepers than was really healthy. He was apparently one of the first few thousand members, given that the user IDs there were sequential. I think I was 1033947. He was 2278. I was lucky to have met him in one of the forums there. He had a topic called Kink 101, probably one of a hundred like it online, but for some reason his felt more… realistic. I’d sent him a DM. We’d talked. Actually hit it off pretty damn well. He had some of the same interests, had done just about everything. He showed me a picture of the dog kennel he kept in his place, and oh, you have no idea how much that thrilled me. Of course, if I’d been more observant about that picture, things might not have turned out the way they did.

Being the naive young wolf I was, I wanted to go right to his place, but much to his credit, he suggested coffee first. No sex, no kink. Just meet for coffee. He wasn’t ready for me to see his place, he’d said, and it wouldn’t be wise for me to go home with someone I didn’t know in person. I was, at twenty-three, younger than he usually played with in private, which was a strike against me I guess. Either way, he knew what I was interested in, what I wanted to try. I liked to think there was chemistry, but what did I really know back then? I’d not even come out to my mom yet. I knew she would be okay with it, but it really didn’t matter too much at that point. I didn’t have anyone in my life yet, and she had retired to her cottage near Collingwood, with me living on the main floor of the house I’d grown up in. But… the first step was coffee. And so there I was, on my third coffee. I’d shown up over an hour early, like I do with some things.

Every time the door opened, I’d look up, hoping to see a ram stepping into the shop, feeling a wave of disappointment when it wasn’t him. Of course, when he finally did show up, I was so busy staring at our message history on my laptop that I hadn’t noticed the little bell over the door ringing. The first words I ever heard him speak, well, at least the first I heard him speak as Ramshorn…

“Well, fuck,” came a deep voice. A very familiar voice. One that I’d known for a good eight years at that point. Hastily, I snapped my laptop shut and looked up, my heart pounding in sudden fear. Standing there, looking just as confused and worried as I felt, was a tall ram in a tight black t-shirt and blue jeans. He had his arms crossed over the words emblazoned on the front. Words that, from my message history, I knew would be ‘Sticks and Stones’. He had only one horn, the left, and the right one was broken off after a foot.

“Uh. Hi Randall! You uh, here for anything?” I said in a small, nervous voice, hoping against hope that this was a coincidence, and that I hadn’t been spending the last month and change telling all my kinks, sharing pictures of my dick, and generally talking about how much of a slut I’d always wanted to be… with the guy who lived in the basement apartment of my house. Whom, on my mom’s behalf, I collected rent money from. But when he slid into the cafe booth across from me and leaned forward with his fingers steepled in front of him, an exasperated look on his face, I knew that my hope was, most definitely, in vain.

I looked back at him with a sheepish expression on my face. “Ramshorn?” I queried, voice barely more than a squeak. Exasperation faded slightly from Randall’s face and he got a somewhat bemused smile teasing at the sides of his mouth as he nodded. “I guess you totally missed all those times I was staring at you while you mowed the lawn in nothing but swim trunks. The way your mantle would get flecked with bits of grass. Your shorn dark skin just… ah, any way… hi?”

Randall, whose expression had grown even more amused, finally said in a deep voice, “Hello, Kim. Boywolf1990. For the love of god, I’ll poke at Sabaton and have him let you change that name. He needs to roll the name change feature out on FetWorld as soon as he can. Least you could do is take your birth year out of that name.”

“You’re one to talk, Randall. ‘Ramshorn’? Though I guess with, well, that, it’s kinda accurate.” I half-muttered, half-taunted, gesturing at his right horn, which was broken off after half a foot. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do at this point. Here’s this guy I’d had a crush on when I was fifteen. And sixteen. And seventeen. We’d become friends when I’d decided as soon as I was eighteen that it would be appropriate to get to know him a bit more, bonding over our love of fighting games and the better of the big two console makers. He’d introduced me to PC gaming, and I’d been hooked. And now here he was, my kinky coffee date that had seen my dick, and jerked off on camera for (muted, on request). The same guy.

The smile that threatened to completely clear the exasperation from Randall’s expression finally broke, and he inclined his head, conceding my point. “Yeah, well, it was 2008. What is it now? 2013? Fetworld was new, I helped test it. The name stuck, and I’ve been an admin ever since.” He unsteepled his fingers and leaned back in the booth, then let out a soft chuckle while shaking his head. “And I didn’t miss you staring. You were fifteen that first year though. I’m many kinds of pervert, but a phebe? Ah, no. Hell, like I said in DMs, you’re younger than I really had… thought to look for. Still, cute as fuck. And I guess the bet I had with your mother is kinda spoiled now.”

I paused, trying to parse the last thing he’d said, “Bet? What bet? I… what?” I stared at Randall’s caprine visage for a while, and with dawning horror I said in a low whisper. “What. Bet?”

Randall huffed a little, then sighed. “Whether you’d come out to me first, or her? You… really had no idea she suspected? She hinted that she knew a dozen times, trying to coax it out of you! I made the bet you’d come out to me first because, well, I was a friend. Hey… Kim, are you okay?” A look of concern had overtaken him, and he reached out one arm to steady me. I felt as if all the air had just vacated my lungs, and I swayed as if physically struck.

My mother knew I was into men. She’d known for years. She’d had a goddamned bet with my downstairs neighbour on who I’d come out to first. And Randall was right, she had hinted more than once, but I’d always rationalized them away. You see, my dad had been a raging homophobe. Like, go to rallies and petition against the Canadian government not to allow gay marriage. I’ve often wondered how someone who was otherwise such a wonderful, caring person, generous to a fault and someone who lived every other part of his faith like one should, could be so hateful. I sometimes wondered if he’d have changed his views at some point, but when he’d died, it had rendered that question moot. I’d never find out. My biggest worry was that mom silently had the same opinions.

I did something unexpected then. I began to laugh. It was hilarious, really, if you think about it. I’d spent years trying to hide, not talking about it. I was going to tell her during Pride week that year. And now I didn’t have to. All the anxiety of that washed out of me in a long, nearly unstoppable fit of giggling.

Randall waited patiently for the giggles to finally subside and then said in a soft, almost resigned voice, “I guess… I guess I can safely offer you a ride home, Kim, if you want. I’ll help you find someone safe. Bring you to a munch. Show you who to avoid. Point out the red flags. Guide you, I guess.” He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

Before I could stop myself, I said in as firm a voice as I could muster, “No.” I felt butterflies in my stomach at what I was thinking of saying next.

Randall looked confused at the single word, then asked, “No? You don’t want a ride home? I mean, we’re both going to the same place.”

“No. I don’t want you to find someone safe. I mean, we talked about playing with others when I was ready,” I licked my lips, then stared down at my coffee, grown cold as I’d waited for ‘Ramshorn’ to show up. If I said what was on my mind, the relationship between myself and Randall was going to be changed, permanently. He was offering a path where things didn’t change as much, or as drastically. He’d led me and been a friend, keeping an eye on me. Hell, my mom felt safer staying at her cottage, leaving me alone, with him living in the basement. Introducing me to the kink community at large would just be an extension, a shift of that friendship. If I went forward though, with what I wanted to say, that would change things completely. “Randall. Sir. Ramshorn. I… I still want… all those things we talked about.” Randall squeezed my hand, and when I looked up, he was smiling. He gestured with his free hand as if to tell me to go on.

“You’re right. I had a crush on you. I had no idea you were… wait, not gay. You’re bi. Your profile said it. That’s cool, so am I.” I resisted the urge to start going off on a tangent about that. It was something I tended to do when nervous and the subject scared me a little. I’d start talking about some other tangentially related subject. I lowered my voice a bit more, terrified someone would hear, “I want you to be the first guy to mount me. To squeeze my nuts, put them in a vise. I want to call you Daddy while you spank me until I’m crying. I want to put on mitts and a muzzle-hood and play puppy in your kennel. Whiiiich I really should have recognized if I was looking at it. I remember asking mom if it was okay if you had a dog, Randall! No, no, okay, no, ew, don’t mention your mother, Kim, you fuckwit.” This elicited a snort and a chuckle from Randall, and I continued.

“You are safe, Sir. You are comfortable. And knowing you makes me that much more willing to trust you, because I know you care about me. You helped my friend Rachel when her boyfriend hurt her. You knew just what to do, just what to say. Got her the help she needed. I… just think this means I’ll fall in love with you easier. Randall, take me home. But when we get there, I… want to keep what we had online going. In person.” I drew a deep breath, and then looked up at him again, pleading, “Please?”

Randall reached up and stroked my cheek, then cupped my chin with his hand. Feeling the rough touch of his thumb stroking the side of my muzzle was a more sensual sensation than I had ever thought it could be. He looked back into my eyes, and his expression had subtly changed. He was taking in the sight of me, really looking at me as a submissive and a potential partner. In a gruff, deep tone, he said, “I can’t wait to hear the noises you make, boy. Come on. Let’s go.”

<-------------->

Driving back from the coffee shop, one that I’d chosen deliberately because it was on the other edge of the twin cities, was an interesting ride. Randall had a big old pickup truck that, to be honest, I would never have gotten into if it hadn’t been him driving. This thing was so beaten up I couldn’t ever figure out why he didn’t upgrade to a newer model, and I’d never though to ask. It got him where he needed to go, I suppose, but I swear I could see through the floor panels to the road underneath as we made our way back home.

I kept peeking over at him as I sat in the passenger’s seat. That broken horn, the mantle of wool that poked out around his shirt, the way he stayed focused on the road. Thoughts of what might happen that night kept filling my head. I had spent two years crushing on him before meeting my first boyfriend, and I wondered how reality was going to live up to my fantasies.

I found out that he was a damned good driver when some dinky little sedan had cut him off. I probably would have honked loudly and given him the finger and ridden his tail for a bit. Randall just calmly reacted. He’d adjusted his driving, gave a little honk and a flash of his lights, and then he was on his way.

“You keep looking at me, Kim,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Something on my face?” Oh, he knew exactly why I was staring at him, and he was amused by it. As he pulled onto the exit ramp from the expressway, he hazarded a glance in my direction. “Me? I’m thinking I don’t have to gag you. It’s not like my landlady’s son is going to be bothered by the noise.”

I felt my ears go flat and I was thankful that I couldn’t really blush in any way that Randall could see. I found myself suddenly unable to meet his gaze. He was right; we’d discussed if we did ever go to do anything, he’d have to find ways to keep me quiet so as to not disturb the upstairs neighbours. Given that I had always wanted to be gagged, hey, that had worked for me. As he turned right at the lights at the end of the off-ramp, he commented, “Kind of happy about that. I love hearing the squeals of a toy when I’m attaching gardening clips to their sack and they can’t do anything about it.”

When I squeaked in response and began to splutter, Randall laughed and reached over to pat my knee. Serious all of a sudden, he said, “Kim. Boy. We don’t have to do anything tonight. We can definitely skip a few steps forward, but I’ll let you decide what you’re comfortable with. Consent goes both ways though. If I don’t feel comfortable with something, I’ll tell you.”

A few more turns, a few more lights, and we were finally at home. I hopped out of the passenger’s side door before Randall could remind me that the antiquated handle could come off rather easily. Which, predictably, it did. I stood there with the inner door handle in my right hand, my mouth agape, and Randall began to laugh. “I really didn’t expect you to be getting a ride back to my place tonight, boy. If I have, I might have asked to borrow yours. That would have been even more awkward.”

I snorted and gestured, “Come on, let’s get inside. I know your couch is comfortable. I’ve beaten the shit out of you in GGX. And I… I want to ah… anyway!” Randall stepped around his truck and took the handle from my hand and laid it on the front seat before closing the door. Something he did with it made the damn thing latch, and I shook my head. “That thing is a deathtrap. I can’t believe you convinced me to get in. You’re always working on it. You’re a fucking mechanic, dude, you should be able to restore it!”

The look that crossed Randall’s face made me regret I’d said anything. Pain in his eyes and in his heart, I could tell. The kind of hurt you don’t ask about, because it’s somehow so raw that it hurts to think about. “Yeah,” he said flatly, “Let’s get inside.”

We were both quiet as he unlocked the side door to the house. I looked up at the two-storey building and grinned. This old house had been my home for all my life. There’d almost always been someone, family, friend, and then Randall, living in the basement, with the rest of us living on the main floor and the upstairs. As I stepped through the door, I saw the closed and locked door that led to my part of the house. I almost never went in this way, because the steps down led right into Randall’s living room. Just before I started down the wooden stairs, I hesitated. I was going to be seeing that room in a completely different light now. ‘Ramshorn’ had mentioned he’d been making some modifications to the space. I remember being downstairs and seeing a few new D-Ring sort of anchors attached to one of the ceiling beams. I’d figured he was going to get plants or something… now I knew just what their intent really was.

“Hey, come on Kim, not enough room for both of us up here,” He said, and then patted me firmly on the rump, then giving a squeeze. I felt a thrill go through me at that casual touch, one that I remembered wishing I could feel when I was younger. My tail started to wag and I eagerly made my way down the steps.

Randall’s apartment took up a significant portion of the basement, with enough space for a bedroom, a small kitchenette with a working oven, and a bathroom. There was a locked door on the far wall that led to the laundry and furnace rooms, which we both had access to via the small stairway at the back of the house. As I scanned his living room I blushed a bit. There were the D-rings across the ceiling beam that intersected the space right in front of a queen sized bed. I’d always wondered why he didn’t actually use the bedroom we had for him, but he said he’d made it his office where he stored all his tools. I knew now after the online conversations that he’d been turning it into a playroom.

Next to the bed was an enormous dog crate, with more than enough room for a huge four-leg to be comfortably ensconced. “Fuck’s sake, I should REALLY have recognized that dog crate,” I muttered. All of a sudden a strong hand was gripping my scruff, and Randall was letting out a low growl. “R-randall?” I sputtered, confused.

“We’re going to have to have some rules. Rules I would have wanted to set forth as we got to know each other,” he said firmly, still gripping my scruff tightly. He even lifted up a little and leaned in against me, pressing his broad chest against my back. “Going to be doing some of that all in reverse. But first… when you’re acting as my pup, my little toy, every time I hear you swear, you are going to be punished. You will call me ‘Sir’, or ‘Daddy’. Randall is fine any other time, alright, pup?”

The feeling of his hot breath on my neck, the growled words, all from someone for whom I had once had a massive crush, made me melt. “Yes Sir,” I whispered. He released my scruff and then stepped around me, whistling a little. He flopped down on the ratty old couch he kept there. The upholstery was showing on one of the arms, and it seemed like it had really seen better days, but he’d once sworn that he’d never been comfortable on anything else. It was like his truck, something he really should have gotten rid of long ago for something new. He had a few things like that in his apartment; an old desk with a broken leg he’d simply repaired as best he could, a nightstand that he’d held together with duct tape, and old plates that were chipped, the patterns on them worn to near-illegibility. Other things though, were brand new and lovingly taken care of, like a computer desk with a rig I could only dream of owning, complete with an ergonomic chair. I smiled when I thought of all the times I’d fantasized about kneeling under that desk with my lips on the ram’s shaft.

“You going to sit, pup? We really do have to talk about … how all this is going to work,” Randall said softly. He patted the couch next to him and I quietly settled in next to him, facing him. I’d spent a few evenings on this couch, playing on Randall’s console. He was one of the few folk that could beat me at just about any fighting game. Now, though, I sat a lot closer to him, not sure how I should position himself. After a few moments of shifting around awkwardly, he said, “Pup. Stop. Look at me,” he said firmly, not really a command, but definitely something to listen to.

“I’m sorry, Ran… Sir. I’m just… I… this is weird isn’t it?” All the same, I did try to hold myself still. He reached his hand out and then leaned forward to press his lips to mine before I could even process what he was doing. I could feel the touch of his soft lips, the tickle of the heavier little beard on his chin, and warm breath spilling out his snout. Involuntarily, I felt my tail wag at the kiss. It wasn’t possessive or aggressive, but it was lingering, and when he pulled away, a smile on his face, I found myself blushing, my ears flat against my head and back. My tail, though, kept wagging all on its own.

The ram’s callused hand cupped my cheek and he peered back into my eyes, “Maybe a little. But you said you wanted this. So do I. It’s just a little weird because I knew you when you were fifteen. But we’re both adults. Hell, you didn’t even know I liked men up until I came into that coffee shop.”

After a few moments I nodded. Still, I couldn’t get comfortable on the couch, until I realized that it wasn’t where I wanted to be. Without a word, I slipped off the couch and pushed the coffee table outward a bit, then settled myself on the rug between his legs, my head resting on the inside of his thigh, looking up at him. “Found my spot,” I said and flashed him a toothy grin.

“Damn canids spending forever getting comfortable,” Randall said softly, and reached down to scratch behind my ear. I inclined my head a little so he could get better access. I felt my whole body relax when his fingers found that sweet spot just behind the base of my ear. “So… if this works out, what are we going to tell your mother?” he finally asked.

“I… don’t really know. She lives out at her cottage most of the time. I don’t want to hide it from her,” I said softly, just delighting in the feeling of the gentle scratching.

“I think she’ll be okay with it. But… we’ll get some flak from other places.”

I closed my eyes and turned my head to rest my chin on Randall’s knee, presenting the other side of my head for him. He chuckled and obliged, paying attention to the same spot he’d been scratching under the other ear. “Fuck ‘em,” I murmured. It was then that I detected a vague scent in the air. I blinked, not sure what it was until I turned my head again and saw the small bulge in Randall’s pants. “Oh… oh…” I stammered.

“Well, why don’t you have a cute little pup with his head this near your dick after weeks spent talking about all the dirty things you’d like to do with him, and see what happens, hmm?” Randall said, amused. His scratching turned to a grip on the scuff of my neck, and suddenly my nose was pressed up against the growing firmness that pressed against his jeans. “You remember the safewords, pup? I want you to start using them.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, drawing a deep breath. I could smell his familiar scent fill my entire being, one that was now mingled with arousal and desire. “Like stoplights. And r-right now, mine are very green.” I nosed at the bulge in Randall’s jeans and drew in a deep, deliberate breath. My mind went to all those years I’d spent fantasizing about being this close, about getting a chance to be this intimately with him. None of it really compared to what I was doing now.

“Mmm, that’s good, pup,” Randall huffed. My nuzzling and nosing was making the ram’s trapped erection grow that much more pronounced. “I think, before we do anything else, I want to fuck that pretty little muzzle of yours. It’s your fault, really.” The tone was teasing and playful, telling me he didn’t really think I was at fault for anything.

I began to reach up and unbutton his jeans, but I was rewarded with a very gentle, but very startling slap to my muzzle. The little yelp that spilled from my lips was more one of surprise than any sort of pain, and I looked up at him with wide eyes, wondering what I’d done wrong. He simply smiled warmly and said, “No, pup. No hands. I said I want to fuck your muzzle, and I’m going to do just that. You get to kneel on my rug and play the pretty little fucksleeve for my dick. Afterward, we’ll go into detail my expectations, should we go forward. In a lot of ways this is going faster than I’d ever expected. If you were anyone else, I… had some specific steps I wanted to take.”

Suddenly, as he looked down at me, I saw something in his expression I never expected. Fear and a deep sadness that made my own heart ache. He must have noticed the look I gave him, because it was gone in an instant. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, but he cut me off with a shake of his head. “No, pup, not now. I’ll tell you later. Everything. Now… I want you to kneel. Remember the position I showed you pictures of during our chats? Kneeling with knees spread, arms behind your back, just above your tailbase?” I nodded and he smiled, “I have to go get something from my play room. I’ll be a minute… when I’m back, I want you nude and in the ready position.”

After patting my cheek one last time, he stood and stepped around me, headed for the heavy door that he’d always kept closed to me or anyone else. I giggled a little bit when I realized that I knew what was behind there now. He’d shared pictures of the room; a spanking bench, a whipping post and a converted examination chair that had once likely been in a doctor’s office. Rings set into the load-bearing beam that ran through the space. A huge toy chest and a wall of hanging torture implements that ranged from a single-tail whip to a wicked looking paddle. Lastly, walls covered in thick blankets meant to muffle sound.

When he disappeared into the play room, I realized I was being given a chance to step back a bit. If it had been anyone but Randall, I would have probably asked for him to slow down. I’d want to establish trust and make sure I felt safe. All of my online conversations with ‘Ramshorn’ had talked about making sure I didn’t feel pressured or in any danger. He’d taught me about safewords and had even been the one to suggest setting up a safe call. But there was no doubt in my mind right then. I wouldn’t be spending months learning to be comfortable with a stranger, getting to know them. I knew Randall. I trusted him and felt safe with him. He had a key to my part of my house for when I went to my mother’s cottage, after all. We shared a lot of the same likes and dislikes. When I went out for sushi and Alex wasn’t around, I sometimes even invited Randall.

And so, I didn’t even hesitate before stripping my t-shirt off and then standing up to undo my own shorts and let them fall to the floor along with my underwear. Very softly, I stroked my sheath, which had begun to fill out. A tiny bit of deep red poked out of it, though very quickly a couple inches had slipped out. I was naked, getting ready for Randall… for Ramshorn… to come back out and, as he’d so bluntly put it, fuck my muzzle. Moving the coffee table aside a little more so that there would be plenty of room for Randall to move, I settled down to my knees after laying my shorts, underwear and shirt on the couch beside me. How many times had I practiced this position, imagining putting myself on display for someone, for him? Legs spread, rump resting on my heels, arms crossed behind my back just above the base of my tail.

When Randall stepped out of the play room, I let out a low groan and felt my cock swell that much more, a good full five inches now jutting proudly out of my sheath. He’d changed out of his clothing into something much more… explicitly ‘leather daddy’, and he was carrying a large leather bag. He was wearing a leather harness that criss-crossed his chest with a steel ring in the middle. Over the harness was a black denim vest. Beneath the waist, though, he wore nothing at all. Like some I’d seen, he had a much more humanoid penis, though it was a dark, dusky gray in colour like the rest of his skin, and it was big. His skin was a deep charcoal colour, and the mantle of black wool that he kept unshorn just accentuated his physique. If I had to describe him in a single word, it would be gorgeous.

I think that in that moment, kneeling on the floor and seeing Randall in that harness and vest, carrying that leather bag, I really understood what I was doing. It somehow became more real, seeing him like that. It was a side of him that I had never really even imagined existed. I had long since given up the crush I’d had on him, and this had come completely out of left field. I sometimes wonder if, had I still held that crush on Randall, would I have been able to go home with him?

“Like what you see, hmm, pup?” Randall asked, his tone suddenly deeper, huskier. His lips curled into a wide grin when all I could think to do was mutely nod in response. He took a few steps toward me, and the look he gave me gave me butterflies. Appraising, possessive, appreciative of my arousal. Behind it was a strange sort of relief, an emotion that I shared with him.

“You know, the whole ride back, I was worried, Kim. That this would be too much. That I wouldn’t want to do this after all. But… mmmnh, seeing you like this…” He stepped right up to me, his dick close enough that I could draw in a deep breath of his musk, and I felt his foot come up and tease at my sack. “I’m happy it was you I came to meet today.” He reached down and took my chin in hand, lifting my gaze to meet his. “No matter how much we know each other, or thought we did, the fact is that what we’re going to do tonight, it requires a lot of trust. Not just from you. From me. I’m trusting that if you find something too much, you’ll tell me. That you’ll be able to use a safeword. Can you do that?”

“Of… of course, Ra… Sir,” I said softly. I felt my confusion rise as Randall frowned a little and shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Kim. I want you to really think about the question. I know we talked about this a lot. You read all my Kink 101 posts. But taking that to practice, that’s something more. You answered without hesitation. If this works out, and I… I hope it will… I expect orders to be followed, but when it comes to that sort of question… you need to really think, okay pup?” He crouched down to where he was on an even level with my head. “This is going to be harder in some ways, us knowing each other like we do. So just… think for second.”

I looked down to where my erection jutted from within its sheath. He was right, even if I thought he was being overcautious. If I let things go where I wasn’t really comfortable, it could hurt things between us and have worse consequences than just a broken relationship. He’d likely want to stop renting from my mother, and a friendship we’d had before would never be the same. I owed it to him, if I really wanted to go forward, to be honest. To let him trust me. “Okay. Randall, Sir. I can. I’ll safeword if I really need it. And I trust you, too. To listen to that.”

This time, my affirmation made Randall grin. “I’ll let the name go this time, pup. How’s this sound? When we’re ‘on’ and playing, my safeword is your full name. Kimraj. If I need to step back and pull myself out of the headspace. I’ll use it. And you do the same. My name.” He patted the side of my muzzle and winked. “Now… like I said… I’m going to fuck that pretty little muzzle of yours. But on my terms. I’ll let you service me yourself other times. But this is something I’ve always loved doing.”

Randall turned to the bag he’d dropped on the coffee table and pulled out a pair of leather cuffs with a locking clip between them and an unidentifiable bundle of buckles, metal and latex. Oddly enough, there was a bright red plastic ball too, about the size of a golfball. I stared at it, confused. It was the sort of thing that, when dropped more than a few inches, would light up and make noise. My cat, Donut, loved the damned things. God help me if I forgot to put one away and she found it after I went to sleep. I almost asked what it was for, but figured I’d find out soon enough.

When I looked back up to Randall, he was smirking, as if he knew what I was wanting to ask. He stepped around me and crouched down again. “See, pup, I’m going to teach you a new kind of safeword. Because your mouth is going to be… busy.” One leather cuff slipped over my right wrist, and then the other. They weren’t too tight, but they were certainly effective, especially when I heard the *click* of the lock connecting them. I let out a low moan as I felt my freedom slipping away. Then, he put the ball into one of my hands and curled my fingers around it. “Hold this for me, pup.”

“Wha… yes, sir, of course sir. But…” I began, confused, but then I saw him lifting up the bundle of metal and latex. As he lifted it up and showed it to me I felt those butterflies in my belly grow that much more animated. It was a muzzle, but not like one I’d ever seen. The ones I’d seen were only on television shows, used to keep dangerous criminals from attacking, or for when an injured patient was snapping in response to attempts to attend to wounds. I let out a low whimper at the sight, and felt just the tiniest bit of real fear.

Randall must have noticed immediately, because he set the contraption back down on the table. “You okay, pup? You got a colour for me?”

It took a few seconds for me to form the words, “Just a bit scared, sir. Lil bit. It’s definitely not turning me off, though.” Indeed, along with the little rush of fear, my cock had stiffened just that little bit more and was achingly hard. When Randall started to tap his foot and stare at me expectantly, I stammered out, “Green, sir!” I was rewarded by a warm, affectionate grin. Again with the butterflies, though of a much different sort. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in my brain, I blurted out, “That’s what the ball’s for. I can’t safeword. I drop it, and it’ll turn on!”

“Oh, very good boy,” Randall said, in a tone that set my tail wagging excitedly. I’d always been a glutton for praise, and having someone like him doing the praising was incredible. “You ready?” he asked, and when I nodded enthusiastically, he lifted the muzzle up and started to slip it over my head. As the latex and leather was slipped over my head, the butterflies in my stomach grew even more animated. Randall was making me more and more helpless, and I was trusting him to keep me safe.

As Randall fastened a buckle and tightened it behind my head, I realized that there was still enough room to open my mouth, though two leather bands encircled by muzzle, one just in front of my eyes, and one closer to my nose. I looked back at him, a little confused, just as he lifted one last thing up. “Open wide, pup,” he said firmly, and I whined a little before doing as I was told. He pushed the object into my mouth, an inch-deep ring of latex that my teeth settled on. There was something hard beneath the surface of the latex that kept me from closing my mouth at all. I whimpered as I looked up at Randall, making a pathetic little whimper. He grinned at me, then stroked my cheek. “I told you, pup. I’m going to fuck your mouth. You’re not giving me head. I’m using your muzzle.” I looked down to see that his cock had stiffened fully, the thick, rounded head drooling a single bead of pre. I’d been so focused on his hands and his expression that I’d not even looked down to see how excited he was. “If you think you’re going to retch or pass out, drop that ball, remember. That’s your safeword.”

I nodded slowly, and he stroked my muzzle. He traced his fingers across each band on the muzzle, attaching little clips to hold the ring in place, then tightening it. He slapped the length of his cock against my cheek and then pulled back for a moment before guiding the head into my mouth, holding the straps of the muzzle to keep my head still. Almost immediately, I felt the head on my tongue, smearing his pre all over. The taste was oddly smoky and sharp, but certainly not unpleasant. As he pushed his cock through the ring deeper into my mouth, I drew in a deep breath of his scent. It was strange and exciting to have a scent I knew so well mingled with arousal and the taste of pre. It certainly didn’t make my own excitement diminish, and I could feel the bulb of my knot pressing against my sheath.

The underside of his shaft glided against my tongue, and I could tell that he was angling downward so that he’d stay in contact with it. Soon, that rounded end was teasing at the back of my throat, with maybe another inch. “Ohhh, yes, pup, I haven’t felt a tongue for… a long time…” Randall groaned, then pressed a little forward. The thick tip teased my gag reflex and all I could do was gurgle and fight the urge to heave involuntarily. I wanted him to be able to do this without me stopping him. The times I’d had someone in my mouth like this, I had always been the one doing the work, even when the guy would start to rock his hips and thrust a little. This was completely different though. He was in complete control of me, deciding how deep and how hard he was going to claim me.

After a few seconds spent with my nose pressed against his shorn, dusky skin, I began to squirm a little, swallowing deliberately to stave off my reflex, he pulled back. “Oh, that was good, pup. Very good.” He pulled back and pushed my head away slightly, then shoved forward until I was gagging again. “You ready? Just remember, you think you’ll lose it, you start to panic, drop that ball.” Before I could actually respond, he began to fuck.

Randall bucked his hips, holding my head in place and even tugging it forward with every motion. He wasn’t just using my mouth for his pleasure, he was claiming it for his own, rutting it like he would if I’d been bent over and presenting my ass. He didn’t hold his cock deep in my mouth for any length of time, but he certainly made sure that he was pressing up against my tongue. I felt my wrists straining at those leather cuffs, wanting to try and guide him, to assert some form of control over it, but I knew that was the point. He was doing this because it was what he wanted, to show what, for the moment at least, belonged to him. With each buck of his hips, my own erect shaft bounced against my belly and his heavy balls swung up and slapped the underside of my chin.

It didn’t really take long before his thrusting became a little more erratic. I knew the only time when I might lose the ball I had gripped in my right fist was when he came. If he was like any guy I’d known, he’d want to hold himself as deep as possible when he lost it. “That’s a good pup,” he gasped, hips jerking over and over. “Getting close… fuck this is nice.”

I was fully prepared for him to shove into the back of my throat and just start letting loose. His breath was ragged and rapid, and I could feel his hands shaking as they held my head still for him to fuck. But when he finally let out a yell and the words, “fuuuuuuck, yes!” he pulled out and suddenly my face was being spattered with his spend. I didn’t know then if all rams were like him, or if he just produced a lot, but he soon had left a generous mess all over my face. I’d had only half a second to think to close my eyes before he’d let loose, and it was a good thing, because I felt that hot spatter over my right eye. “That… that was perfect. Other times, you’ll get to show me how good you work your mouth, pup, but… mmm. I had to claim that pretty muzzle of yours.”

Keeping my right eye shut, I tried to open my left and looked up at Randall. He was smiling now, and looking at me in a way that my younger self would have given everything to experience. Already his dick was softening, the foreskin starting to cover that ebon-fleshed head. Leaning forward, I nuzzled at it and was rewarded by a gentle scratching behind my right ear. "Hold on, pup, let me take care of that," he said, and a moment later he was wiping my right eye with a tissue.

I knew the night wasn't yet over, but even if that had been the end of it, I'd gotten more than I had ever had reason to hope for. I leaned forward to rest my head against his thigh, nuzzling at his sack. Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I bathed my senses in his scent.

"So, pup," Randall started to say, but fell silent. I could tell he had more to say, but I was content to stay where I was and just let him continue when he was ready. When he finally did speak again, his voice was shaking just a little. "You know, I never thought I'd have you where you are right now. Not once. I'm happy you're there now. And I want to continue, if you do." He moved his foot to press it up against my own sack gently. "And maybe we'll take care of this, too. So, you ready? Do you want to continue? I know you can't talk. Just drop that ball if you want to stop for the night."

I pulled my head away from Randall's thigh and looked upwards until our eyes met. He was still smiling, but I could see a vulnerability behind that gaze. I held onto the ball with a tight grip, not wanting to let go.