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Vanilla Shake

In the world of BDSM, the term 'vanilla' is reserved for the ones who have no particular fetish or kink. There should be a 'yet' tied to that statement, because many who classify themselves as vanilla are often inexperienced and haven't really found what in the lifestyle truly excites them. Either that, or what gets them going is a little subtler than what you would normally see in the lifestyle. Some enjoy their partners talking dirty or role-playing, others enjoy sex in any place other than the bedroom, and even others are just content to be voyeurs and watch any kind of scene being played out before them. That's actually where I fit in this world of slightly less-than-normal living.

My name's Sam, and yes, I'm what they call 'vanilla.' I suppose the fact that I'm a white tiger probably adds a touch of irony to it as well. If you ever met me on the street or at work, you'd never guess that not only do I have many friends who live the lifestyle, but that I also look forward to the last Friday of every month. You see, that's when the local kink community descends on a particular nightclub for a night of drinks, kinks, and eventual debauchery.

As I said, I'm more a voyeur at these events. In truth I could never see myself participating in the sessions I see at these meet-ups. I'm not knocking anyone who's in the life, make no mistake. I'm also fascinated at many of the things I see at these events, but to actually get up there and do any of it? No thanks. I've thought about it on more than one occasion, but I just can't see myself getting into any of the roles I've seen in this community.

Most of the kinksters at these gatherings know who I am, mostly because I'm friends with some of the more prominent members of the community. For the most part they've been pretty accepting of me and my, lack of fetish. Once in a while I'm accosted by some new face who thinks they can be the one to finally discover my 'hidden desire.' Oftentimes folks like this get rather insistent, at which point one of the many self-correcting mechanisms of the community (read: Dungeon Masters) steps in.

While I enjoy the camaraderie that comes with these meetings, I also look forward to the main event near the end of the night: The show. Again, something I could never do is be an exhibitionist, but if someone wants to bare it all in front of a crowd, who am I to judge? In the years I've been coming to this event, I've seen just about every kind of fetish or kink played out in vivid detail. From harems to humiliations, the entire alphabet of kink has found its way at least once onto that stage.

You might be wondering how someone like me found his way into a place like this. For that, I have to credit two very good friends of mine: Kyle and Marcia. I met them not long after I moved to the city a few years ago. To me they seemed like a perfectly normal couple at first. It wasn't until a year later that they told me about their rather 'interesting' relationship. I was more curious than turned off by their admission, and soon after I was invited to my first kink night.

Since that first time, their performances are the ones I always look forward to. It's not always the finale of the night, but it's still the best. All right, I'm biased; sue me.

When I first met Kyle, I was rather intimidated by his appearance. He's quite possibly one of the most imposing black wolves I've ever met. His yellow eyes seem to glow in contrast to his fur, giving his gaze a penetrating feel to it. It's hard to look him in the eyes for too long for fear of that primal need to challenge and dominate surfacing.

The first time I saw him on stage though, I realized just who the Alpha really was in their household.

When their session starts, it's Marcia who leads Kyle out, a leash clipped to his collar. His paws are often cuffed and his muzzle is, well, muzzled. He looks like a bound slave; it's the look they so often go for.

Marcia, or rather, Mistress Marcia when she's on stage, is often dressed like something out of any teenager's wet dream. Imagine a gray wolf with a slight but athletic build, C-cup breasts, and amber eyes. Now, wrap her legs in shiny black thigh-high boots slit up the side and bound together with white fishnet. Add to that a black leather mini-skirt with either no underwear or crotchless panties depending on the theme of the session. Then, clad her torso in either a corset or bustier, and finish off the ensemble with elbow-length gloves made of either leather or silk. You don't have to be a fetishist to appreciate her attire. Gods know I've appreciated it on more than a few occasions. Sadly, none of those occasions have been in up-close and personal. But hey, a tiger can dream, can't he?

Last Friday, Marcia was dressed up with her black boots, blood red skirt and corset, and black gloves. In one paw she held one mean-looking cat-o-nine-tails, and in the other she held a leash. Kyle was tugged out onto the stage in his usual attire and placed in a set of stocks. Marcia secured him in them, and then retrieved a stool from the side of the stage. This she placed for him to stand on, raising his butt just that much higher. She then grabbed his tail and, giving it a few not-so-playful tugs, pulled it over his back and clipped it to the stocks. I never noticed that he had some kind of clip on his tail. Then again, I wasn't exactly looking at him all this time.

Marcia never said a word. She merely walked around and surveyed the now-imprisoned wolf. She twirled the whip in her paw a few times, flourishing it for all of us to see. A few cheers of anticipation went up from the crowd. When she finally walked behind him I drew in a breath. My eyes widened and my whiskers stretched forward as she reared her whip arm back. When it landed the CRACK of it was followed by a cheer from the crowd. Not from me, though. Instead I watched Kyle's muzzle. It looked like he grunted, but that was about it.

_CRACK!_She whipped him again. I was amazed at Kyle's pain threshold. That each of Marica's strikes was making my ears twitch told me she wasn't holding back. Yet, Kyle just sat there taking each strike in stride and asking his Mistress for another. This was the part I always enjoyed: seeing when the big black wolf would finally break. I wasn't getting off on it; part of me just wanted to see if he'd gotten any better since the previous session.

This continued for at least a half hour. Marcia varied the frequency of her strikes to keep Kyle from anticipating a rhythm. Sometimes she would wait several seconds, and other she would unleash a flurry of strikes on his backside. Yet he didn't relent. It took nearly 20 minutes of punishment before I could see him begin to falter. His paws clenched, and I saw his white teeth emerge from his black muzzle with each new strike.

Finally, at the 30-minute mark, Marcia stopped. She turned and gave the audience a rather satisfied-looking smirk before undoing the lock on the stocks. She unlocked Kyle's tail from the device and slowly helped him stand properly. He was made to bow to the applauding audience before being led off stage the same way he was brought on.

The crowd started thinning out soon after Kyle and Marcia were done. I stuck around though, hoping to talk to them for a bit before heading home. It didn't always happen, depending on how their on-stage session went, but I always made sure to stay a bit longer just in case. They were my friends after all.

My pocket suddenly vibrated. I pulled out my phone and saw a text message from Marcia waiting for me. I sighed as I opened it up; I had a feeling what it was going to say:

Rain check

It wasn't the first time this had happened, and I had no right to feel stood up or anything. They were a couple; I was the friend. Whatever was going on between them had priority. Sure, it was a bittersweet note on which to end the night, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I texted her back saying it was all right and finished my drink. I was out the door a few minutes later.

* * *

My phone jarred me from my dead sleep. I looked at the clock and let a small growl out. It was 9:30am on a day that I would normally sleep until at least 11. That's my usual reward for attending a kink night the Friday before. Anyway, the phone continued to ring and as I reached for it I began wondering how long it would take my tail to return to its normal, non-poofed state.

"Hello?" I asked in a groggy voice.

"Hey Sam." The voice on the other end made my ears perk up. It was Kyle. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No worries," I said with a yawn. "I didn't need that extra hour of sleep anyway." I stretched and yawned again. "What's up?"

"I was hoping we could meet for coffee sometime today," he answered. "I'm heading out of town tonight for work and I need to ask you about something before I go."

My whiskers twitched at this. When he wasn't being dragged around like her pet, Kyle was one of the hardest working wolves I knew. He was a big-wig in his company, and with that position came a lot of demand for travel. For at least one week per month he was somewhere other than home. During those times, Marcia and I would hang out quite a bit. Kyle knew about it, and more than once he'd told me how happy he was that I was always there for her. That he was calling me like this, though, had me a little worried.

"Um, sure," I said, finally sitting up. "When and where?"

"How about TheBean at noon?" he offered. It only took a moment for me to mull it over. Fresh coffee and fresher pastries? Sign me up.

"Sounds good," I said. "I'll see you there."

"Great. Talk to you later." He hung up and I made my way to the shower. So much for a lazy Saturday watching old movies and cartoons.

* * *

I got to The Bean just after noon. Kyle was fairly easy to spot, imposing posture notwithstanding. He was also the only person in the place standing at the coffee bar. I stifled a snicker. No one in the place paid any mind to why he was standing, but of course I knew better.

He spotted me and smiled, waving me over. As always when we met, his tail wagged, but this time I think he was consciously trying to control it. Man; Marcia must have done a major number on him last night. We shook paws when I arrived and he waited as I ordered a drink and something to eat. That done, I turned back to him. "What's going on, Kyle?" I asked.

"Ah, cutting to the chase," he said with a small smile. "I've always liked that about you, Sam: straight to business."

"Especially where my friends are concerned," I countered. "Normally, Marcia's the one who calls, and you're always together when you invite me out. Is she all right?"

"Sam, have you noticed anything off about her lately? Does she seem, well, distracted or anything?" Kyle's question caught me off-guard. His ears were straight and his gaze (when I could look at it) looked hopeful.

I thought back to the times we'd all been together in recent weeks. I was at a complete loss where Kyle's question was concerned. Everything I could remember told me that all was well. "I'm sorry, Kyle; I honestly can't say."

The big guy seemed to deflate. His ears drooped and he stared back down at his coffee. "I'm worried, Sam. I'm really worried about her."

"What's going on?" My order arrived.

"You know we're a 24/7 kind of couple, right?" I nodded. "Lately, she just seems, well, bored, for lack of a better term."

"Bored?"

Kyle nodded again. "At home she's quieter than normal. It's like she's uninterested in being my mistress." He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "I'll be honest, Sam: I'm concerned. She assures me that there's nothing wrong between us, but I know that something's not right." His last sentence ended with a frustrated growl and I shrunk back a little.

"Are you sure you should be talking to me about this?" I asked. "I mean sure, I like to come to the kink nights and all, but if this has something to do with that, then maybe someone else in the community..."

"No, I can't," he interrupted. "If it got out in our community that Marcia wasn't treating me properly, that would be blood in the water; you know that." He finished his coffee just as his phone beeped. He took it out and gazed at the screen for a few moments. "I need to go get ready." He looked up at me once more. "Sam, please. Watch out for her while I'm gone. If you do find out what's wrong with her, do whatever you can to help. I hate to put you on the spot like this, but..."

I held up a paw. "All right, you convinced me. No promises, but I'll find out what I can." Kyle nodded and dropped enough money on the counter to cover both our orders. With a nod he headed toward the door, leaving me to contemplate just what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

* * *

Marcia was a creature of habit. She would take Kyle to the airport, drive home, and spend that night alone. The next morning, she would phone or text me with an invitation to lunch. It was a pattern I'd noticed with her given all the time I'd known her. In fact, I would often forego my normal routine of sleeping in on that day just to be ready to respond; she hates it when she wakes me up with a phone call, no matter how many times I insist that it's all right.

So, when the call didn't come when I expected it to, I was a little concerned. The conversation with Kyle the day before did nothing to settle that concern either. I waited for another hour before grabbing my phone and sending her a text:

Everything OK?

I didn't want to sound like some over-protective den mother, but when a routine is broken, there's usually a good reason. Maybe she was sick. Or maybe Kyle went ahead and confronted her about what he told me. If that was the case, maybe she was just upset and needed time to decompress.

There was still no reply to the text by the time I got out of the shower. This was definitely not like her. Even when she had been upset in the past, she had at least graced me with a reply. Again, Kyle's words came back to me, as did my promise. Even if there was something wrong with her, who was I to inject myself into their personal lives? Granted, I promised Kyle I would, but that didn't mean I felt good about it.

Still, a promise is a promise.

I made sure my phone was either by my side or at least turned up as I puttered around the house. I made a deal with myself: I would keep an ear open for some kind of response text up until dinner time. If I didn't hear from her, then I'd resort to a genius idea I dubbed 'Plan B.' This plan consisted of little more than Chinese food and a few selections from my collection of bad movies. If the 1-2 combo of comfort food and guilty pleasures didn't fix this, then nothing would. My plan set, I did my best to get on with my day.

* * *

It took about 45 minutes to get to her place, allowing for a quick detour to Jimmy Woo's to pick up the takeout order. Armed with two over-sized bags of food and a backpack full of riff-worthy flicks, I rang the doorbell. No answer. I rang again after about a minute. Again, no answer. I checked my watch: 6:30 pm. There was no way she was already asleep.

"Third time's the charm," I mumbled as I pressed the doorbell a third time. This time I heard something behind the door. My whiskers stretched forward as the sound grew louder. Footsteps. Angry footsteps. I took a step back as I heard the sound of the deadbolt turning.

" WHAT?!" shouted the wolfess as the door flew open. I nearly dropped the food I was carrying. As it was, my ears and whiskers folded back, and my tail poofed out again. Marcia stood there, lips pulled back in a teeth-baring snarl, ears folded down and a look of murder in those amber eyes of hers. I could hear her growling lowly, and I fought the urge to drop the bags and accept this apparent challenge.

She regarded me for a few more tense moments before recognition set in. Immediately her posture changed. Her ears perked right back up and the snarl disappeared from her muzzle. "Sam?" Her tail started to wag excitedly, but her expression immediately changed again as she realized what she did. "Oh gods Sam, I'm so sorry."

"No worries," I said with a chuckle, my own ears returning to normal. "The tail needed a good poofing anyway; keeps it nice and full-looking, you know." She giggled at my admittedly lame joke. "I tried texting you earlier. Is everything all right?"

"You did?" her head cocked to the side. "Oh crap. I must have forgotten to plug it in last night after I took Kyle to the airport."

She was lying; I could tell from the way she said it. Her phone had been charged and she did get my message. She just chose to ignore it. Kyle was right: there was something not right here. However, I wasn't going to find out what it was by pressing the issue directly. "So," I said, hefting the bags a little, "hungry?"

"Jimmy Woo's?"

"Is there any other?"

"And bad movies?"

"I brought my 'A' game." Translation: my entire collection of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.

"Well, what are you standing out there for? Get that tail in here." She stepped aside and let me in. She graciously relieved me of the bags while I doffed my shoes and followed her into the kitchen.

Within a few moments our plates were loaded with rice, noodles, veggies, lemon chicken and sweet & sour pork. We retreated to the living room and I presented my movie selections for the night. As usual, Marcia's reactions ranged from 'I'm not sure if I'm that desperate' to 'wait, you actually own that?' We finally settled on 'Commando' and 'Raw Deal' for tonight's entertainment.

"Ah'll put da movie een," I said in my best/worst Austrian accent. "Den you press play and staht da show." Marcia giggled and made room for me on the couch. We dug in as the movie started.

We spent the first movie focusing more on eating than anything else. By the time the credits were rolling, we were both right stuffed. So the second movie found us just relaxing on the couch. The day finally felt right to me. Maybe it was selfish, but I enjoyed these times Marcia and I had together. I often found myself looking forward to Kyle's business trips because it meant that for at least one night while he was away, I could do this.

I found myself getting lost in the second movie. That explained why I nearly jumped when I felt Marcia's body press up next to mine. I glanced down to see her muzzle nestled on my shoulder and her paw resting on my lap. On reflex I put my arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. She sighed slightly, and I felt that familiar vibration run through me. You'd think after so many millennia of evolution that we felines could get that damned purring under control.

"Thanks for this," Marcia said softly. She nuzzled my neck and I thought I felt the briefest of kisses there. My whiskers stretched out in response, as though the very air between us became charged.

"Uh, no problem," I said nervously. "M-Marcia? Is everything all right?" I felt her tense up only slightly before pressing into me a bit more. "Hey," I said softly. "What's going on?"

"I'm tired," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired of it all, Sam. I'm tired of giving orders, of being called 'Mistress' every time I ask a question. I'm tired of always having to take charge of everything, Sam. I-I love him, but..." She buried her face in my shoulder again. I could tell she was fighting the urge to cry.

"Have you thought of asking him to take a break from it all? Maybe give you some time to recharge?" I knew how important the lifestyle was to both of them. I couldn't believe she was willing to give it all up just like that.

She shook her head, and I knew why: blood in the water. It was the same reason Kyle came to me instead of someone else in the community. Even a hint of concern about a dominant's behavior was bad news. It could lead to questions, rumors, and even accusations of abuse, at which point her reputation in the community would be worthless. She sniffled and I gave her another reassuring squeeze. "I don't know, I-I just want to feel...I..."

"Loved?" Her ears perked up and she stared at me. "Cherished? Treasured?" She slowly nodded. I did not like where my mind was going with this. Kyle told me to do whatever it took, but this was going too far. After all, now that I knew, I could just tell him and that would be it, right? He was as nervous about approaching the community as she was about telling him. Surely they could work this out. This was mission accomplished, wasn't it?

Then she kissed me. Or did I kiss her? Maybe we kissed each other. Whatever the case, my body had apparently moved while my mind was wrestling with this dilemma. When I realized what I'd done, I pulled away. My tail thrashed and quivered as I tried to stand.

"I-I'm sorry," I said. "I should go." I moved to get up but she grabbed my paw and wouldn't let go. "Marcia," I said. "I-we can't do this. Kyle..."

"He's been worried about me," she interrupted. "I know he went to see you yesterday. That's w-why I avoided you all day." Her ears drooped and she looked away. "He probably told you to do whatever it took to help, didn't he?"

I nodded. "He did. But this? Marcia, I don't want to be that guy. How could I look him in the eyes again knowing that I, well, that I..."

"Slept with his mistress?" The bluntness of it made it sound all the more repugnant to me. "Sam, Kyle reached out to you because he knew that he could trust you." She stood up, still holding onto my paw. "And I trust you too."

"Trust me for what? Look, you know he came to me, and now you've told me. I can tell him and it's all good, right? I know you both don't want it getting out, and you also know my lips are always sealed." I looked down at her paw, still clutching mine. "We don't have to do this."

"Even when he finds out, he still won't be able to do anything to help." I noticed she didn't say if he finds out. "You said so yourself, Sam: I want to feel loved, not just be obeyed. I know he loves me, but there are some things he just can't do for me." She looked away. "Everything with him has to be an order from his Mistress."

"Everything?"

She nodded. "Pretty close, especially when it comes to the bedroom. I've asked him to be spontaneous, but it still feels forced, like he's only acting. I need something more real, Sam. I just need a break from always being Mistress Marcia."

She said her stage name with so much contempt that I thought she was going to spit on her carpet. My brain was working overtime trying to process this. I knew what she wanted, but was I willing to give it to her? Could I look them both in the eye afterwards? I couldn't deny that I was in a situation a lot of folks in the community would kill to be in, and that's when it hit me:

They were both trusting me, above anyone else, to help them through this rough spot. Granted, they were asking me for a lot more than a normal person would, but this wasn't exactly a normal situation. I started to feel honored that they would come to me with something like this, strange as it was.

"Just promise me one thing," I said after a few minutes of silence. She gazed back up at me, ears perked up in anticipation. "Promise me this won't get weird between us. You two are my best friends, and I don't want to lose that." I reached for her other paw and clasped it.

"Oh, Sam." We closed the distance and our muzzles met once more. There was nothing light or tender about this kiss. It was deliberate and we held it until I felt her lips part. Her tongue began to probe against my lips, begging for entry. I stifled a laugh as I wondered if she'd ever kissed a feline before. If not, she was in for one hell of a surprise.

We broke the kiss only long enough to sit back down. She mashed her muzzle against mine, and this time my jaws parted. I heard her moan as her tongue danced over mine. She straddled my legs and pressed herself against me. I wrapped my arms around her and felt my purrs vibrating over my entire body. It had been a long time since my last date, and even longer since I'd gotten this far. I was tingling mostly in anticipation, but still partially in apprehension.

I let my paws travel down her back to the base of her tail. I fumbled with her pants' tail loop button for a few moments before finally undoing it. She moaned softly and then gave a small yelp as I gave her tail a gentle tug. Our kiss broke and she looked at me with a smirk on her muzzle. "Naughty kitty," she said. "Pulling a girl's tail like that."

"Aw, did I hurt the little puppy dog?" I asked with a toothy grin. "Here, let me make it all better." I pressed two digits down on the base of her tail and started rubbing slowly. Her body stiffened for a moment, and then like a balloon she deflated into my arms. Her moans and whines were like music to my ears.

"Oh gods, yes," she panted. She mashed her muzzle against mine again and gave me quite possibly the sloppiest kiss in my adult history. Her smooth, wet tongue grazed over mine once more and she moaned even louder. She sucked on my tongue for several minutes before finally breaking the kiss. "Gods, that tongue," she breathed. "How can you not have a girlfriend with something like that?"

"Most girls I've met find it a little annoying after a while," I admitted, my ears growing warm from the blush. "It, well, kinda makes them raw after a while." I waggled my eyebrows and winked.

"Mmm," she cooed, pressing herself back against my massaging digits. "Something to look forward to then."

I smiled in response but said nothing. I merely licked my chops like a predator staring at its next meal. I felt my sheath begin to swell and felt grateful that she had straddled me just a bit below my crotch. Even with the way she was gyrating under my massaging digits, she wasn't grinding up against my growing arousal. That didn't last very long though. Our muzzles met once more and she began moving up my legs. She brushed up against my bulge for just a moment before she growled and pushed down hard against it. "Oh my," she said huskily as the kiss broke "For me? You shouldn't have."

I smiled and we stared into each other's eyes. Hers were lidded and seemed on the verge of rolling back with each little movement of her hips against me. It was a look I never once saw on her face. In spite of seeing her on stage, subjecting Kyle to any number of punishments, the pure look of lust that I saw now on her face was new for me.

"Oh, gods Sam," Marcia breathed as she continued to slowly grind on me. "It's been so...ah...so long since...mm..." She was panting heavily and her scent was thick in the air. I pulled at her shirt and she offered no resistance when I pulled it out from her jeans. She moaned even more as my paws made contact with the soft fur underneath. The silky texture of her fur gliding through my digits made me purr even louder. Gods, how long had she gone without something as simple as this? She was reacting to my touch the way a teenager would on their first heavy date.

"H-He never does this? Not without a command?" My voice was growing deeper from my growing lust.

She shook her head. "He...mmm...he won't," she replied. "I...ah...I almost have to tell him where...oh right there...ahh...to touch me." She writhed under my wandering paws. I felt the material of her bra straps and teasingly slid underneath them. This just made her writhe and grind more against me. "I've wanted him to just...ah...be random, but he just...ah..."

I leaned forward and buried my muzzle in her neck before she said anything else. My tongue and teeth licked, and nibbled all those sensitive spots that I knew drove a female wild. It was having the desired effect as I felt Marcia's hips move more aggressively now, rubbing herself fast and hard against my now-swollen sheath. I let one paw drift back down her spine and focused on her tail base again.

She whined the moment my paw found that spot again, and moments later her entire body stiffened. "OH SAM!" she howled, pressing her crotch down on my bulge as hard as she could. Her body started shaking and her breaths game out in brief, almost desperate gasps. I held her tightly to me as she rode out what had to be the single strongest orgasm I'd ever seen anyone experience.

Five minutes passed before she finally collapsed against me. I became aware of a growing wet sensation where our still-clothed loins met. Her breathing was heavy and I could hear the occasional whine from her. I simply held her tenderly to try and comfort her the way a lover would - a lover who needed no commands or orders.

She began to stir after several minutes. Again we looked into each other's eyes and I saw she was smiling. "Y-You have no idea how much I needed that," she said, her voice just barely above a whisper.

"You make it sound like you haven't cum in years." She shifted a little and shivered.

"Not like that," she admitted. "Not without telling Kyle to make me." She kissed me briefly and relaxed against me once more. "And even then, I haven't cum that hard, well, ever." Slowly, she got off me and snuggled up beside me. I followed her gaze down to my crotch and my jaw fell open. My jeans were soaked to the point that it looked like I wet myself. "Oh gods," she said with a giggle. "I did that?"

"Girl, you must have really needed it." I chuckled. She joined in and before long we were both laughing out loud at the mess. Some would call it a little inappropriate, but at that moment it just felt like the right thing to do. Perhaps it was because the sexual tension between us was abated for the moment, but as I held her and we laughed, nothing else mattered.

The laughter eventually died down and I felt her muzzle press into my neck. The moment I felt that tiny nip, I knew this wasn't over. "Sam," she whispered. "Please, even if it's just for tonight, make love to me."

There was no way I could say no now.

I collected her back into my arms as she straddled me once again. She resumed her slow grinding over my crotch, and I gripped her shirt once more. Her paws covered mine and together we pulled it up over her head and discarded it on the floor. She was wearing a rather plain (if skimpy) black bra that just barely contained her bust. She wasn't overly voluptuous, but she was by no means flat either. Even though I'd seen them so many times in the club, I still licked my chops slowly as she reached behind her and I heard the tiny 'click' of the clasp being undone.

She shrugged out of her bra and on instinct my paws moved up to her breasts. She gasped and moaned softly as I slowly massaged them. My thumbs played over her already hard nipples, making her squirm against me once more. She reached for me and started pulling on my own shirt. I leaned forward slightly and reluctantly pulled my paws away from her to make it easier. Moments later I was as topless as she was, and I felt her eyes rake over my body. I wasn't a bodybuilder, but I did try to keep in shape.

Marcia ran her paw through my white chest fur, and the look on her face told me she was surprised at its texture. I knew I was rather bristly compared to her lush, soft coat, but she didn't let up. Even as I ducked my head to her breasts and began kissing and licking, she continued to stroke over my body. She only paused to arch her back once more as I began lapping slowly over her nipples. I felt her press down on me once again, and I couldn't help but moan in response.

"Oh gods, yes," Marcia moaned. "Right there...ah...AH!" She tensed when I gently bit down on her nipple. With a playful growl, she gripped one of my ears and gave it a squeeze. I growled in response and gave her tail another playful tug. This sent a tremor through her body as though I'd short-circuited her nervous system. Even her growl was interrupted with a gasp. "Oh, Sam," she moaned. She moved her paw to the breast I wasn't lavishing with my tongue and squeezed it, pinching her nipple as she did so. "So good...mm...yes..."

I moved to pay some attention to her other breast and ended up nuzzling her digits. I grinned and caught them with my mouth, making sure my coarse tongue played over them. She gasped and ground against me even harder. Of all the females I'd dated, never had I experienced such a reaction as Marcia's. I couldn't tell if her reactions were from the coarse nature of a tiger's tongue and fur, or if it stemmed from this somewhat taboo act we were committing. Maybe it was a bit of both. Only she knew for sure.

The constant pressure against my bulge was beginning to grow painful. I grunted a few times and Marcia took the hint. I pulled my head away from her breasts and gazed up at her. She was panting heavily. She smiled lustily. "Getting a little tight down there, kitty?" she asked. I could only smile in response. "Mm, we'll have to do something about that." She slid off me and we looked down at the source of my discomfort. We couldn't help but chuckle again at the rather prominent wet spot that covered my jeans. If that was any indication of how the rest of the night was going to go, it was going to be messy.

I couldn't wait.

Slowly and seductively, Marcia slid down my legs until she was kneeling on the floor before me, her eyes level with my crotch. She reached up to the waist of my jeans. "I guess we should get these into the washer," she said. "After all, wouldn't want that stain to set, would we?"

I knew her sense of humor. It wouldn't have surprised me in the least if she'd actually pulled my jeans off, and then went to put them in the laundry. Thankfully she wasn't in the mood for jokes, at least not that I could tell from the way she never took her eyes off my bulge. She worked first my belt, then the button and fly on my jeans. The moment the zipper cleared my sheath I let out a small sigh. Just that slight bit of pressure relief was enough to help me relax again. I lifted my hips to help Marcia peel away my jeans and toss them aside.

"Oh my," she said, tracing a digit over the outline of my sheath, still concealed by my boxers. "So this is what you've been hiding all this time." She pulled my last bit of clothing down and I couldn't help my ears from growing pink from a blush as I was exposed to the open air. My whiskers felt like they were vibrating now, and my tail twitched uncontrollably. I barely remember her pulling my boxers off the rest of the way, but came screaming back to reality when I felt her paw grip my sheath and give it a squeeze.

My cock slowly emerged, already slick with pre from our fun earlier. I heard her gasp and looked down at her face. I was getting the distinct impression that she'd never been this intimate with a feline before. She looked mesmerized by what I had to offer: Only the head was covered in tiny barbs, leaving the shaft smooth. Like the purring, it was something us felines hadn't fully gotten rid of just yet. She ran the tips of her digits over the head, and I thought I heard her giggle when she felt the barbs pull at them slightly. She then leaned in close, and I could hear her sniffing at it. If the whining moan she let out wasn't enough indication, her slowly licking her chops told me what was coming next.

Her tongue dragged slowly up my length and I let out a long, moaning growl. She swirled her tongue over the head before opening her jaws. A moment later I felt myself engulfed in her maw. I felt her nose bury itself in my crotch fur, and I remembered why I loved canine muzzles so much. Even though her muzzle was still, I could feel that wonderful tongue of hers working over my shaft like it was a piece of hard candy. Gods, she was good at this. I felt more than a little envious of Kyle in that moment.

I felt her muzzle begin to bob up and down my length, all the while her tongue was working it over. I felt one of her paws cup my balls and gently begin massaging them. In truth, at that moment I became a bit concerned. I remembered one of her sessions with Kyle that involved a bit of CBT. I think half the males watching that night all winced at some of the things she did to him. I trusted her, but at the same time when someone has you in that position, you really have no say in what happens next.

She must have felt my growing tension because she gazed up at me, my cock still buried in her muzzle. She merely smiled as best she could and winked as she gave my balls the slightest squeeze. It wasn't enough to be painful, but it was enough that I moaned and felt more pre spurt from me. She growled playfully and did it again with the same result.

I moaned again and started moving my hips in time with her suckling muzzle. I was getting close. She seemed to pick up on that and began moving faster. "Gods...ah...M-Marcia...I-I'm gonna..." She only moaned in response and quickened her actions even more. She wasn't going to stop until she got what she wanted, and I could feel the pressure begin to build inside even further.

Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. My body tensed and I let out a strained mewl/yowl as I felt my cock erupt inside Marcia's sucking mouth. I gripped the cushions tightly as I rode out each convulsive wave of my orgasm. I could feel my barbs scraping against the walls of her mouth; I'd probably have to apologize for that later. At the moment though, that seemed the furthest thing from her mind.

After what felt like forever, the waves calmed down and I slumped against the couch, completely drained. I looked down and saw Marcia pull her muzzle off my still-hard cock and give it a few tender, cleaning licks. Despite feeling like I'd never cum again, I stayed hard if a little sensitive.

When she was done, she looked up at me with a smile; I got the distinct impression that she'd enjoyed herself. "Someone was pent up," she commented, licking her chops and sliding her way back on top of me. I collected her into my arms and nuzzled her neck. She sighed and moaned softly, seemingly content to just be held the way a lover should be. I felt the denim of her jeans rub up against my still-exposed length and grunted slightly. I was still a little tender from what she'd just done.

Marcia looked down and realized why I'd made the sound I did. She was just about to say something when I sat up a bit and rolled her off me. I straddled her and leaned in to kiss her once more. My paws traveled back to her breasts, kneading them as our tongues battled in each other's muzzles. I felt one of her paws drift down to my still-hard length and begin to stroke it slowly. If she was worried that I was going to go soft anytime soon, she needn't have. In truth, I was more worried that I'd never go soft again.

The kiss broke and I began my own travels down. I began with her neck, revisiting all those places I'd hit before. I felt one paw cradle my head while the other one continued to stroke my member. Her moans and whispered words of encouragement were all I needed to continue. From her neck, my muzzle traveled down to her breasts. At this point she was forced to let go of my length. She growled playfully in frustration at losing her apparent favorite toy of the moment, but her paws were soon gripping the cushions as my coarse tongue played over her nipple once more.

"Oh Sam," she kept saying over and over. This only spurred me on. I alternated between her breasts, lavishing one while playing with the other with my digits. Her moans turned into whines of desperation, and I realized I needed to continue. I traveled down to her stomach and buried my muzzle in the soft fur there. I inhaled her scent as deeply as I could, picking up on the earthy/musky combination that lay beneath the fragrant shampoo she used. She squirmed the more I nuzzled her, and a small part of me debated turning this into a tickling bout. That thought faded rather quickly though; we were both long past the time of humorous flirtation.

She moaned in anticipation as I popped the button on her jeans. As soaked as mine were, hers were worse. Again my thoughts went back to Kyle and his apparent limitations in the bedroom. Was this one of the reasons I never fully immersed myself in the lifestyle? I mean here I was: the vanilla tiger, the so-called boring one, about to strip naked and make love to one of the most well-known dommes in the community. Moreover, I had her basically eating out of my paw at this point. I was satisfying her in a way her sub never could because he did nothing unless ordered to.

Just another one of those mysteries, I suppose.

I pulled down the zipper and gazed at the black panties underneath. I decided to leave those in place for the moment and worked at pulling her jeans off. She lifted her hips up to help and in moments they joined mine in a crumpled heap on the floor.

I could see the sheen of her arousal on the material of her panties. Her scent permeated my senses now, making the more primal side of my nature emerge. Again, after so many centuries of evolution, we still often surrendered to our most basic instincts when properly aroused. It made it tough to do any kind of teasing or foreplay when all your instincts are screaming 'Fuck her' at the top of their figurative lungs. Still, I was determined to make Marcia feel she was treasured and adored, instincts be damned.

I moved closer and she spread her legs to give me better access. I could feel her eyes on me, wondering what I had in mind. I turned and nuzzled her thigh, planting nibbling kisses there which made her squirm even more. I repeated the same action on her other thigh. I kissed my way up until my nose was mere inches away from her still-covered crotch. I gave her a playful lick over the material, to which she arched her back and pressed herself into me more. "Oh gods, Sam," she cried. "P-please. I need you."

This wasn't about the tease, nor was it about making some shy girl say things she normally wouldn't. She'd had enough of that. With my claws, I tore the garment off and peeled it away. Her pink swollen folds glistened with her arousal. The scent was overpowering now and I dove in like a predator.

She screamed in ecstasy the moment I dragged my coarse tongue across her pussy. She pressed herself hard against my muzzle. I slid my paws under her rear and used my thumbs to spread her lips before diving in once more. I continued to slowly lap at her, making sure the coarse texture of my tongue touched as much of her as possible. It appeared to be having the desired effect; she was going wild under my ministrations.

I knew from experience that eventually the coarseness would make her raw; it happened with nearly every female I'd gone down on. Still, there was one thing I wanted to do for her: Something for her to remember me by, if you will. Slowly I opened my jaws as far as I could and drove my tongue as deeply inside her as possible. As I moved, my fangs found purchase on her body and I bit down just a little. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to make their presence known. At the same time, I unsheathed my claws and pressed them into her ass cheeks. She pounded on the cushions as I twisted my tongue around inside her like it was a living, coarse-textured sex toy.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. If she'd howled any louder I'm sure she would have shattered every window in the house. She ground her loins against me as I felt her squirt right into my muzzle. I tried to back off a little so as not to draw blood, given where my teeth were, but she didn't make it easy. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and I kept my tongue buried inside her as she rode out her second intense orgasm of the night.

When she finally came down, I slowly withdrew my tongue from her. She twitched several times as I did so, her pussy now as sensitive as my cock had been earlier. She was a whimpering, quivering mass as I crawled back onto the couch and collected her into my arms.

We sat there in silence for at least an hour. Marcia never moved, save to shift position slightly to get more comfortable. She reminded me a bit of how Kyle would get when he entered sub-space after a session on stage. He would cling to her when she was done with him, and being the good domme that she was, she would hold him until he came back up and was able to move on.

"Gods," she finally whispered, breaking the silence. "Sam, that was incredible." She leaned up and kissed me. "I had no idea you were so damned good. Again, how are you single?"

I shrugged. "Maybe no one else can stand my taste in movies," I offered. She chuckled weakly at that. "It is what it is," I said, kissing the top of her head. "You look like you're ready for bed though."

She groaned and nodded. "I'm ready to lie down," she said, "but not quite ready to go to sleep just yet." I grinned and we disentangled ourselves. I stood up and helped her to her feet, but I could see she was still shaking slightly from what I did. With a smirk I bent down and picked her up into my arms. She let loose a surprised bark at this, but soon settled against me. "To the bedroom, Jeeves," she commanded.

"Mmyes Madam," I said in my worst butler accent. I carried her up the stairs to the master bedroom. My ears perked up in surprise when I crossed the threshold. One would think that, given their lifestyle, these two would have a bedroom that resembled a medieval torture chamber. I then realized that the 'playroom' was probably in the basement; less chance of some peeping tom getting more than an eyeful.

I gently placed Marcia on the bed, and she squirmed around to turn down the sheets. I walked around to the other side and crawled in beside her, at which point our muzzles met in another tender, loving kiss. I drew her into my arms and purred softly as she pressed the length of her body against me. Despite our growing mutual need, we were both just content to lie there for the moment, reveling in our mutual closeness.

We continued like that for a time until Marcia began pushing me onto my back. She straddled me and raised up just enough to take my length into her paw. Slowly, she lowered herself until her nether lips kissed just the tip of my cock. She suddenly stopped and I looked up at her. Up to that moment, everything we'd done could have been chalked up to the heat of the moment. Her frustration at Kyle's inability to be spontaneous and my desire to make her feel loved and desired had been an excuse up to that point. Now though, this was it. Our relationship would change if we proceeded any further, and I understood her hesitation because I felt it too.

"Are you sure?" I repeated. The indecision on her face was obvious. Her eyes met mine. "Marcia," I said. "Don't force this. If you don't want to, don't..."

She placed a digit to my lips. Her gaze never left mine as she slowly lowered herself onto me. I hilted inside her in one slow, fluid stroke. She moaned softly as our loins brushed against each other. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way. She was like a silk-lined vice inside, scalding hot, tight, and slick with arousal.

She began grinding her hips slowly. Her tail thumped repeatedly against my legs. My own twitched as much as it could, given that I was lying on my back. Her paws sought out mine and our digits interlaced. She settled atop me and our muzzles met in brief kisses as her hips worked my length in and out of her. Occasionally she would rear back and grind herself against me hard, taking in as much of me as she could. She shuddered each time she did so before collapsing atop me and resuming her rhythm.

"Oh Sam," she moaned. "I've wanted this for so long." She kissed me hard, and I could feel her pace start to quicken. "No commands," she whispered. "No orders. Just this."

"M-Marcia," I stammered. I could feel the buildup happening again; that stirring inside that signaled this was all about to end with a very wet, very messy bang. She never let up though. She must have sensed it too, but instead of slowing down, she began moving faster. Her grip on my paws tightened and her breathing grew as ragged as mine. "I-I'm gonna..."

"I-In me," she panted. "Give it all to me, Sam. Fill me with it." She tensed again and I felt her walls clamp down on my length like a velvet press. I clenched my teeth and bucked my hips upward. The floodgates opened for both of us at the same time. I felt her liquid heat wash over my cock as I unloaded one rope after another of seed deep inside her. The barbs on the head of my cock kept me in place, and it was all I could do to not move too much. She collapsed atop me once more and our muzzles crashed together. We rode out this tidal wave of pleasure for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually it all passed. Out of breath and feeling drained, we both just lay there, her on top of me, my length still buried inside her. Our hips still moved together, but it was more out of reflex now than anything else. Our kisses were tender now, not so filled with passion but still affectionate. She let go of my paws and I immediately wrapped my arms around her.

"Thank you, Sam," she finally said when she could breathe normally again.

"Feel better?" I asked, gently scritching behind her ear.

She nodded. "I'd forgotten this feeling," she admitted. "Not having to command someone to lick, suck, or cum." She snuggled against me. "I could get used to this." Her muzzle suddenly opened in a monstrous yawn. "I think you've done worn me out though," she said. "Stay with me tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. We moved around until she was spooned up against me. Any thoughts of consequences to what we did all faded away as we let sleep finally and fully overtake us.

* * *

The day after Kyle returned from his trip, he and I met up at The Bean as per his request. I knew this conversation was coming, but that didn't mean I was looking forward to it. No matter how much my mind tried to reason out that I did exactly what they asked me to, the fact that I slept with Marcia still tugged at my still-mostly-vanilla sense of morality.

Surprisingly, our meeting was friendly. He thanked me for helping them out. He confided in me about his bedroom 'deficiencies,' and felt grateful that now Marcia had someone she could turn to when she needed that kind of treatment in her life.

I wondered if this now made me part of the community. When a dom and sub plan to get together, there's always a negotiation that takes place, where they outline the scope of their interaction. Things like limits, preferences, and safe words are agreed upon during those negotiations to ensure no one is pushed past what they're willing to endure.

Marcia and I also had an agreement between us now: when Kyle was in town, we were like we'd always been. We would all get together for the occasional dinner or night out, and I would always be welcome to the monthly fetish nights at the club.

However, when Kyle was away and she felt the urge, I would be there for her. I was her outlet when she wanted something plain, sweet, but no less delicious in her eyes.

I was her vanilla shake.

THE END