Calling Card of the Mistress

Story by KayrinSF on SoFurry

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A young wolf suffers through a night of humiliating nightmares, unaware he had caught the attention of the Mistress herself

A commission for FriskeCrisps

He requested the Mistress herself be included in the premise of the story, so I decided to include her as an actual character. If you're a new reader and have no idea who the Mistress is? Here. Have some more reading. ;) For Her Pleasure Smile Pretty, Kitty Nocturnal Attrition

This is one of the many ways she would likely recruit her boys. Subliminal attraction via. seeded dreams seems like a fine way for a psychic to ensnare a new playmate!

Anyway, enjoy guys. :)

Crisp (c) FriskeCrisps

Mistress (c) Ouranberry (on FA)

Everything else (c) KayrinSF

Time was a construct, and days were abstract concepts designed to help discern the passage of time. As an abstract concept, days were made of nothing but the sheer will of society's claim they existed; today, however, Crisp could swear days were tangible, touchable things. Some days were made of ice, others of molasses, slow and plodding like a trail of syrup winding its way down a cabinet door. Today, though. Today was made of sweat. Sticky, musky, eye-stinging sweat. It snuck through the window frames of Crisp's home, trickling under his door, and barging its way through the very walls.

Crisp knew when he was beat, and today he had given up. Sitting on his couch in nothing but a pair of sweat-dampened red briefs, the boy leaned back and stared listlessly at the television. People in air-conditioned studios acted as though the world itself weren't melting around the young wolf. Black fur glistened with beads of moisture, disappearing when it finally grew fat enough to slide down his body and vanish amidst the white fur of his chest and belly. Besides the briefs, the lupine still wore his large red sneaker, the laces undone and dangling as limply as his arms over the side of the couch.

"Game over, Badanov! Surrender or I'll feed you to the sharks outside!" the tv screamed, but Crisp wasn't paying much attention to it.

A knock at the door broke the sweltering monotony of Crisp's afternoon, and though he didn't move immediately, the boy's eyes finally turned away from the movie loudly playing out on his tv.

"Yeah?" There was no answer, just another knock. "Who is it?" Annoyance flared in the young wolf's tone, but it was quickly subdued by the encroaching curiosity nipping at the back of his thoughts. Remembering at the last minute to pull back on his white shorts, the boy padded towards the door with his unlaced sneakers squeaking rhythmically on his hardwood flooring.

The door loomed like a predator, as though opening it would reveal some vile gullet still rank with the meat of its last meal. Dread crept into Crisp's belly, and he had no idea why. Sunlight streamed through the nearby window, a bird sang in the tree in his front yard, and a small truck rumbled past on the road at the end of his walkway. All of this normalcy served to heighten the unexpected sense of impending danger that strode boldly up Crisp's spine.


Still no answer.

Crisp moved to open the door and tripped over one of his own untied laces. Stumbling forward, the wolf's hand caught the door frame, keeping him on his feet as a blush crept into his cheeks. There was no hesitation, however, as he opened the door. The brunt of the mid-summer heat blasted into Crisp like a wall closing in on him. The dread drained from him. There was nothing waiting for him save a sprinkler across the street whisking gently as it watered his neighbor's yard.

Blinking, Crisp looked up. The light was perhaps the only thing that surprised him. While he could swear it was still early afternoon, the air had an orange tinge to it, as though the sun were setting. Combined with the heat, it gave the illusion of the very air itself burning. There was something else about it... something inviting, as though the orange light were begging him to bathe his lean body in its eldritch glow.

"Oh my, what a cute boy..." faintly drifted through Crisp's thoughts, and he immediately dismissed it as some remnant of some show he was remembering; the phrase meant nothing to him, so surely it must have been nothing worth thinking of. Still, Crisp seemed to fall still as he stood framed in his front door. Minutes passed and the wolf's eyelids grew heavy but he remained statuesque in his immobility. A pair of kids walking back from a nearby store fell silent, staring curiously at the shirtless wolf standing in his doorway staring up at the sky. One of the two muttered something, and the other burst out in a peal of laughter that carried far into the summer air.

Then. It ended. Crisp jerked himself back to wakefulness, blinking away the strange sensation that had overcome him. The orange light was gone, but Crisp didn't notice. His gaze was serene in its steadiness. Slowly, it fell from the point in the sky he'd been fixating on, and continued to fall until it landed on a small bundle sitting on his front step. Wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, and bound by a single long silken ribbon, the package looked like the kind of bag a lingerie store would offer to its customers.

"What the." Crisp frowned, bending down to scoop the package up. It was light, and the paper crinkled in his grip as he sought out a name or address.

CRISP. The single word was written on a small tag hanging from the ribbon. A dim remnant of the dread that had gripped him earlier while he'd stood behind his closed door, returned. It begged him not to open the package, to throw it away and not look back, but it was faint and easily ignored.

Crisp was back through his door and in the kitchen before the door had come fully to rest against its jamb. The package was placed on his table, and shucking his shorts off once more--the heat once again reasserting itself--the boy turned to once more examine the package. Slowly he peeled away the layers of wrapping, using his fingertips as though the paper were hot to the touch. Curiosity fought with his innate sheepishness, and as the present--what else could it be, wrapped as it was?--presented itself, the boy's eyes widened.

Within the package lay several things. On top rested a pair of white boys briefs, the cotton underwear seeming to shine under the glare of his kitchen lights. A pair of black and white thigh-high stockings were tucked carefully beneath the briefs, folded and seemingly ironed before they'd been wrapped. Beneath the stockings lay a pair of bright green high-top canvas sneakers. The subtle smell of rubber and unsullied fabric wafted upwards, as though inviting the boy to try them on. Rather than oblige the unspoken desire exuded by the clothing, Crisp frowned. Who had sent him new underwear and shoes? Was this some kind of joke? Gingerly the boy picked up the briefs and looked them over.

Silence accompanied the wolf's careful examination. Each piece was inspected, and all of it seemed clean. The stockings were the hardest to put down, however; soft enough to entice, the stockings were handled exploratively by the boy, his mind wandering to thoughts of trying them on... just for a minute... what could it hurt? Nobody would know... why not just... try them... on...

For the second time in twenty minutes, Crisp had to rouse himself from an unexpected period of semi-consciousness. When he came to this time, however, he found his feet bare, and his paws moving to put on one of the stockings. A cry of simmering fear and surprise escaped the wolf as he threw the stocking towards the corner! What was going on?! Shivering as his senses returned one coherent thought at a time, the boy bundled up the clothes and shoved them away roughly.

A bird outside twittered gently, and as Crisp pulled his eyes away from the strange bundle of clothing, his heart grew lighter immediately. Talking to the unseen bird, as though the twitter had been for him, Crisp smiled; "I don't know who sent it, but it's weird, and if they want me to wear it, they're out of luck!" That simple assertion, spoken for his own sake, carried the boy through the rest of the muggy day without incident.

Night fell, the heat abated--slightly--and Crisp was readying himself for sleep. His sneakers lay just beneath his bed-frame, their laces sticking out like the fingers of some unspeakable horror laying in wait beneath his bed. The pink bundle had migrated towards his bedroom as well, laying in a heap on his dresser solely for lack of anywhere better to put it. The window was open but only hot air was coming in now. The blanket lay like an iron rug atop the already dozing wolf; his body shifted occasionally, but as his breathing slowed, the world seemed to quicken around him.

The new moon hid behind its cover of darkness, but an orange light seeped through the open window, illuminating the night-bugs which fluttered in the air outside it. It snuck in, slithering over jumbled textbooks, dirty clothes, and those reaching, ghost-like shoelaces. It climbed the side of Crisp's bed, and crawled atop the boy, laid out atop him like a second blanket. Crisp had fallen asleep as though a switch had been flicked on his back, and the lay hung about him un-noticed.

Somewhere, a giggle echoed in the air.

Crisp awoke with a start. The tired light of a half dozen fluorescent bulbs greeted Crisp's bleary eyes. All around him the soft murmur of passing conversation bled together with the entrancingly dul muzak that gave the impression of being trapped in some mundane hell. The lights grew clearer, and slowly the wolf sat up as he rubbed at one of his eyes. A soft curl of orange smoke trailed from beneath the frame of a nearby door, as though someone had left a smoke machine on in the adjoining room, but Crisp didn't notice.

He was in a shoe store. The conversations were the chatter of passing shoppers as they made their way through the mall that the store opened out onto. One would occasionally glance towards him and stifle a giggle before they disappeared into the throng. Confusion gave way to concern as the boy considered his situation; when had he gotten here? Moving to stand up the wolf realized something just as concerning. His cock was rock hard--not that waking up with a boner was uncommon--but the only thing pressing back against it were the white briefs he wore.

Crisp was all but naked.

The stifled giggles suddenly became roaring guffaws in his ears as he realized why they'd happened in the first place.

"Oh... oh no..." the boy stammered out sheepishly. Without a shirt he had nothing to cover the tented up front of his tighty whities, and his erection was put wholly on display because of it. The only other thing the boy wore were beat-up red sneakers. They curled at the toe and large gaps in the canvas bristled with the black fur of his paws. Trying to cover his shame, the boy spun on his heels and made for the door, only to be intercepted.

"Good afternoon, sir! Can I help you find something? Some new sneakers perhaps? A nice pair of boots? A pair of pants, maybe?"

It was a woman. She stood only a little taller than Crisp himself, but seemed much older somehow. Green hair framed a smooth elven-like face, the bangs covering one orange eye like a curtain blotting out the dusk. Red lipstick gave her grinning lips an unearthly sheen that had the boy transfixed, and even as he stared, she giggled.

Crisp stood there for nearly a minute, but the woman's one-eyed gaze didn't falter, nor did her smile.

"Ah, well, I... I..." remembering his current state of undress, the boy's cheeks erupted in a blush that rivaled the fire of the stranger's eyes. "I mean, I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't..." words tumbled uselessly from the embarrassed wolf. Despite his situation, his warm, aching, cock seemed to only throb all the harder in his little white briefs as his knees pressed together. Somewhere behind him he heard another poorly hidden titter of someone walking by the store.

The woman's smile seemed to tug up a little higher at the corners of her mouth for a brief second before she stepped towards him, then past him, a long-fingered hand trailing gently across Crisp's bare chest as she passed him.

"Of course, boy." She stops, as though catching herself in an error, but she simply chortled out a string of giggles that reassured the wolf even as it drove him deeper into a shame-spiral! "I mean, sir." The woman looked back, dropping a playful wink; what kind of employee was she!? Crisp was in no position to question the shoe saleswoman's behaviour, and allowed it to slide amidst the cascade of far more immediate worries.

The woman carried herself in each step as though she were royalty, or the belle of some long held ball. Her hips slid from side to side as smoothly as the silk blouse she wore. The white fabric rippled and molded against her frame as she began to search the shelves for something. The knee-length black skirt she wore spoke more of boardrooms than shoe shelves, while the ass inside it spoke more of nightclubs than anything. Crisp was beside himself. Even the scent of her called to him, as loudly as any megaphone could. Despite the formal appearance of her outfit, the woman's feet seemed to be sockless, and in a pair of pristine purple canvas sneakers.

Something about all of it demanded a response. Crisp moved towards her, his paws falling to his sides. Unprotected now, the boy's cock jutted towards the woman, like some kind of aching divining rod. Nearby, the orange smoke from beneath the door had begun to spread. It remained low, like a morning fog rolling across a dew-dappled field, and slid over Crisp's feet even as he stepped in beside the saleswoman. She turned towards him and smiled that smile.

"How about these?" The woman's head tilted, and for a brief movement her bangs shifted enough to uncover her second eye. It was as orange as he'd expected, but somehow seeing both at once unleashed some new desire in the boy. It was like a voice in his head that drowned out even the allure of her scent. For a moment, he lost himself. Even when he grabbed tightly to what he was, he found he only wanted to give it to her as a gift; all of it. As the boy's thoughts gibbered, she held up a box. "Try them on..." another pause. "Sir" another smile.

Crisp took the box without thinking. Her request was perfectly reasonable, and he hated the idea of offending her by refusing. Her hands slid up and curled around his shoulders even as he opened the box. Inside lay the high top canvas sneakers, thigh-high stockings, and briefs, that had been delivered to his front door. This failed to register in the increasingly murky depths of the boy's mind, and he just smiled at them dopily. The gentle touch of the woman's hands were better than any massage, and they ran down the wolf's bare chest with all the urgency of a drunk trying to get out of a bar. The hands twisted and wove through the wolf's chestfur, tussling it even as the woman's eyes remained fixed on his.

"Yes ma'am..." the answer was slow, but with a deliberateness that showed no hesitation. The smoke had risen almost to the boy's knees by the time he'd pulled the shoes out of the box.

"What? You think we want this little weirdo to wear us!?" The soles of the shoes separated from the toe, forming a crude mouth that flapped as a new voice spoke from somewhere inside the sneakers. "Look at him! He looks like he's gonna cream his briefs, right here!"

The woman's eyes turned down to the shoes, an almost playful concern creasing her features. "Oh my, are you sure?"

Crisp was helpless to interject! He was more than capable of trembling with embarrassment as the shoes berated him, however.

"Yeah! Look at him! He's a sissy! I bet he even likes getting laughed at!" The shoe was soon joined by the other one.

"I think Righty's right--"

"Of course I am!"

"--he doesn't really look like much. I bet he gets off on getting pushed around!"

The laces of the shoes had already begun to creep from the box, twirling around Crisp's wrists as they spoke. The insults flew, and the woman only nodded thoughtfully, her fingers still tracing through Crisp's fur. Crisp was still transfixed. Without the woman's gaze on him, the boy found himself anxious for it to return to him. Like an addict without a fix, the boy was powerless. His muscles refused to answer and only his cock seemed to have anything to say. It dribbled pre-cum into his briefs, the musky smell growing heavier by the second.

"What a little loser!" "I don't want to go on his feet, he's such a dweeb!" "Maybe we should wear HIM for awhile!"

By now, the laces had reached all the way up to Crisp's shoulders. His eyes were wide with the horror of the predicament he'd found himself in. With his briefs tented out--the flesh of his cock easily spottable through the stretched out legholes of his underwear--the boy was made a spectacle of in more than one way. The soft fabric of the shoelaces crept towards his neck... and it was only then that the woman's gaze returned to him.

Orange smoke billowing around her waist, the woman smiled a smile that couldn't exist, it was too bright, too perfect.

"I guess we'll see..."

Even as Crisp tried to disappear into her eyes once more, she leaned forward to kiss him, and darkness claimed him.


Crisp's eyes fluttered open briefly. He was back in his room. The moon rode high in the sky outside his window and even the few clouds around it did nothing to stunt its brilliance. Something was off though. Frowning, the boy pulled back his blankets and gasped.

He was wearing the clothes! The green high top sneakers hung loosely on his feet, the thigh-high stockings molding against his thin legs perfectly, and his raging boner was framed tautly by the white briefs. As stretched as they were, however, his cock couldn't get out. Though there appeared to be an opening in front, his shaft was trapped by the fabric.

"H... How did..." Crisp began, the fatigue in his own voice surprising him as he croaked out the two words.

"Shhhh, boy. Back to sleep. You aren't done yet." The voice came from beside him, joined by the gentle stroke of a hand running through his hair. "Go back to sleep." The command came as a suggestion, but still demanded compliance, and despite himself the boy did just that. Head falling back, the wolf writhed slightly in his bed, the light sheen of sweat which had formed on him only seeming to excite him more as sleep took him once again.



Crisp cracked his eyes and marveled at the wood table his head was laying on. It seemed newly polished and smelled faintly of pen ink and pink erasers. Voices floated in the air, and with each second they grew louder, more pronounced, as though they became more real the longer he listened to them.

"I appreciate that algebra is not the topic of choice for many of my students, but I expect you not to fall asleep, young man." The voice broke through the din with a familiarity that jerked Crisp upright in his seat.

"S-Sorry, ma'am!" The wolf nearly it his tongue in his haste to apologize.

The teacher was tall, her green hair pulled back in a bun that, rather than age her, gave her a youthful sense of casual authority. Orange eyes twinkled in the light of the white-washed classroom, the stifled giggles of his classmates drawing a blush from the boy that made him want to melt into his chair. The sense of familiarity that had drawn his rapt attention, however, was fleeting. Even as he stared at the smooth face of the elven-like beauty, he realized he couldn't recall why he'd remembered her voice so vividly. The light in the classroom seemed to highlight her eyes above all else, however, though there were no bulbs to be seen; light simply seemed to exist here. A bank of windows which ran along one wall of the room, which would normally look out on a dull looking football field, or a road, opened out instead onto a fog-field of orange smoke. It swirled and coalesced before breaking apart like a wave crashing against rocks. It obscured everything else that might have been outside, and though it was a strange sight to be sure, Crisp found it decidedly uninteresting as his attention turned back to the teacher.

The woman nodded, turning her back to the class as she began drawing diagrams on the chalkboard. "I may be a substitute, boy, but don't think I can't make you squeal." She wore a long dress, floral patterns decorating the airy fabric which flowed down from a pair of shoulder-straps that left her shoulders bare. Wisps of hair that had escaped her bun hung across the lean contours of her neck, and Crisp found his gaze idly following the soft-looking locks as she moved about.

"Now, Jeremy..." she began, not turning to look away from the board. "Find me the value of X in this equation." The teacher idly gestured towards a string of numbers and letters on the board; though he couldn't see her face, Crisp was certain he heard a smile in those words. Nearby a somewhat dim looking hyena climbed to his feet, hands behind his back as he squinted to see the board.

"Unh... 6?"

A soft sound of bemused disappointment drifted from the teacher. Laughter exploded in the air like a bomb, Crisp cringing even though--for once--it was not directed at him!

"6! What a doofus!" "What a surprise!" "Jeremy, you nitwit!"

Taunts quickly blended into a cacophony of noise that the hyena seemed almost pleased by.

"Now now, Jeremy. You really need to study more." The teacher's comment silenced the other voices in the room, as though none dared challenge her turn to speak. "Off you go, and don't come back until you've learned your lesson." The woman cocked her head to the side as she glanced back, one orange eye dropping a playful wink that had the hyena practically melting on the spot; it didn't save him, however. A red button--which Crisp was later certain had not been there seconds before--beeped on the teacher's desk. She pressed it nonchalantly, gaze sweeping the room even as the tiled floor beneath the hyena suddenly swung open, and he fell into darkness.

"MAAAAA'AAAAAAammmmmm---" his cry for her faded into silence, cut off entirely when the floor swung closed once more. A few students tittered, and at least one in the back blushed harder than even the hyena had while being chastised by the teacher. Crisp was aghast.

"Now, Crisp, I'd like you to try..."

Crisp's stomach dropped. After witnessing the fate of the hyena after his failure to correctly answer the question, Crisp realized it could just as easily happen to him. Looking to the board, Crisp's horror grew when he realized that he couldn't recognize anything written on it! Odd gibberish and strange symbols floated in a sea of chalky green. Then things got worse.

As he stood, Crisp looked down and found himself standing in the clothing that had come to him earlier that day! His cock was rock hard, jutting upwards as though it were looking back at him as he looked down at it. The white briefs were damp with pre-cum, and the smell of it was heavy in the air. Gasping, the boy's arms moved to cover himself, but it was no good.

"Did you forget something, Crisp?" laughed a raccoon girl nearby, her eyes playfully taking in the wolf's cotton-covered rump.

"Oh, gross, Courtney. Don't look!" A friend of the raccoon reached over to try and cover the girl's eyes, "He's so nasty. Barf."

"Ewwww, he's all hard! Why's he like that!?"

"Oh my god, what a loser!"

"Did your mommy buy those for you, Crisp!?"

Only the teacher remained silent, her thoughtful eyes resting on the wolf. She was waiting for him to answer, and the knowing smile that creased her peach-coloured lips said she already knew he didn't know it.

"Ah... I... well..." Crisp tried to make sense of the jargon on the board even as he was bombarded by the taunting catcalls of his classmates. The boy's temperature was rising, and like a boiler he felt as though he were going to burst if he didn't get it under control. "If you.. er... carry the five..." stalling, the wolf's frantic eyes darted around the board..

Even as the wolf agonized over the answer, orange smoke had begun to creep in through the crumbling weatherstripping of the room's windows. It snuck its way across the tiles like the tendrils of some horrid, hidden beast. Slowly it overtook the boy's shoes, though he didn't notice at first. The smoke puffed slightly, and seemed to seep into the green converse sneakers. Like fingers, the laces began to move on their own, flexing and curling as they slowly began to lift into the air. Only when they'd pulled themselves taut and begun to tie themselves together, did Crisp look down.

The boy's body froze, his eyes widening as he watched his own shoelaces betray him! They ducked and wove amidst themselves, forming a knot that would have stumped Alexander the Great. The Gordian Shoelace Knot grew larger, as though fed by the very taunts raining down on him. Even the tips of the laces themselves had begun to take on the appearance of faces! They laughed and wavered as he looked on helplessly.

"You think you got it bad! You try being his shoes!"

"He's such a pervert! He totally masturbates while thinking about us!"

"Ugh, and his feet smell too!"

The wolf's fight or flight response finally kicked in, and chose flight. Ready to rush from the room in a haze of humiliation, the wolf only got half-way through the first step before he was falling, as though he hadn't known his shoelaces had been tied together. Even as he hit his hands and knees, like some petitioner come before a queen, Crisp was profoundly surprised by what should have been a predictable outcome.

"Come now, boy. What's the answer?"

Unable to rise, the wolf's head drooped, looking to the floor in abject defeat as his body trembled with a yearning that demanded his surrender. "6?" The answer came from him as though it'd been snuck into his thoughts, and forced out of his mouth by some outside force--a saboteur of some sort.

"6! He said the same thing as Jeremy!"

"It's almost like he WANTS to get dismissed from class!"

"He probably likes it! I bet he even tied his own shoes together!"

The teacher's soft "tsk" of disappointment contrasted the broad smile that beamed at the wolf. She silenced the others with a stern look before blessing Crisp with the sole attention of those eyes.


The button was pressed once again, Crisp feeling as though he were going to cream his briefs right then and there as he awaited whatever lay in store for him. The taunting was a steady drone all around him, fingers pointed in his direction shaking with their owners' laughter. Seconds stretched on into the eternity that lay behind the teacher's dusky eyes. Orange smoke seemed to fill them, but that may have simply been the wanderings of the wolf's overtaxed mind. Regardless, the trapdoor opened and Crisp vanished into it with a howl of dismay that brought fresh laughter from his classmates.

Crisp fell for hours, his body tumbling as he kicked and clawed at open air. The trapdoor was a tiny square of light far above by the time it closed again, yet still the boy fell. The blackness engulfed him, devouring the young wolf as thoroughly as any dragon would. Only when he was certain that he would lose his mind soon, did it end.

Crisp awoke with a short cry. He was bathed in moonlight, his blankets kicked off and pooled on the floor beside the bed. The clock said 3:00am, declaring it in dire red numbering that seemed better suited for a bomb, or doomsday clock. The dreams flew from his mind, though fragments embedded themselves in his subconscious. Once more he was aware that he was wearing the green converse, thigh-high stockings, and white briefs, but it seemed normal to him now; why wouldn't he be wearing them? She had given them to him after all, so he loved them.

Turning to sit on the edge of his bed, the boy looked out the window, his heart racing still from the nightmares.

"What a night..." the boy murmured.

"The first of many... come now, boy, I've decided I like you." a voice replied.

Crisp smiled broadly as his eyes moved to take in the pale disc of the moon's luminescence.

"Yes, ma'am..."

Horrors Of The Night

"I fucking hate parties." "Then why do you keep coming to them?" "...I got my reasons." The two voices floated carefree across the night-shaded dunes of the white-sanded beach. They danced over the softly lapping kisses of the ocean waves...

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Cicadas had long played a secondary role to Gaisu's life. They had filled the silent air of the night of his first kiss. They had narrated his first act of mischief as a child. And now, they hummed a war-tune as he stood amidst the blowing tall-grass...

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Last Friday

There's a lot of ways you can spend a Friday night. Getting laid comes to mind, or maybe a pint with some buddies. Hell, maybe a pint with your buddies before getting laid; the number of people to sleep with, and the number of pints to drink defy...

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