A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Spanking the bitch

My hair is wet.

I’m covered in sweat and I’m moving, as I stare into a pair of dark blue eyes with a graceful rhythm. We both are, it’s a paced rhythm, and now I’m totally absorbed in riding this heat fest, out.

Feeling Paris’s muscles move against mine, our bodies sliding together is calming me down greatly. Well, kind of. Tiny part of my brain keeps wanting to lick him, run my nose along him and feel fur. But I keep shutting that part of my brain down and he holds me at arms length from getting close enough to lick him or inhale his scent.

My heart beats pumping, but my brain is calm and my mind is clear.

My wolf knows what to do here, in this situation. She’s leaving me in control.

Who said being in heat was all bad?

Was that me?

What was I talking about again?

Paris and me, on a bare mattress inside the cage.

At some stage when I was sleeping between bouts of heat and shape shifting, he dragged a mattress in here. We’ve been left alone to figure out the best way to get through my latest episode of me, quite literally being a bitch in heat. And I think we’ve figured it out. The best way to keep me under control when in my current state of mindlessness, is to go slow. Very, very, slow. Too much fast pace and violence makes my wolf excited and brings on shape shifts quicker than I can blink.

So slow it is.

It’s like doing a strenuous workout, and trying to conserve your energy at the same time, without straining any muscles. It’s an endurance race of propositions. You see, we want this to last a long time and at the same time, one of us is going to have to end it, cave in and come first.

Changing positions is done, with slow ease, no fast sudden movements to excite either werewolf from within. We’ve got this heat bitch under control and we’re going to tame her. I sit across Paris’s lap and start to move again, picking up a pace, and his hands pull me down, grounding me onto his naked form.

I groan at the sharp movement of his thrust.

“Ralentissez-le vers le bas” He says at me in French. Stilling me.

I shake my head, not understanding. My French is limited and anything he says sounds sexy anyway. He doesn’t speak it very often around me. But damn, it’s sexy. Probably shouldn’t be speaking it to me now, cause it’s like a stimulant I don’t need, to loose the control we’ve been working on.

He kisses my breast and looks back up at me.

“I said, slow it down.” His grip on me looses slightly. “Or I won’t let you move at all little wolf.” He smirks back at me. “And we know how much you’d hate that.” He grins at me before resuming teasing my nipple with his tongue.

A gasp escapes my mouth. Now he’s playing a dangerous game. He’s letting elements of excitement enter into this calm we’ve created. I wonder if he’s getting bored, riding out our sexual marathon together. The man is incredibly patient with me, but he’s no saint.

I stare into those dark blue eyes and keep the pace we’ve been going at. I don’t now how long we’ve been in this cage, that’s big enough for several human captives, even several full grown Alpha werewolves. I don’t know how long we’ve been on this mattress, slowly releasing ourselves.

I don’t care about any of that.

I just want to simmer here, in this heat, with him, until we both boil over.

So I’ll do as I’m told. I’ll be good, I’ll keep my pace.

I’ll spank this werewolf bitch in heat business.

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