The small detail at the end of her stockings, the royal-guard-like-shoe thing, really accentuated her dominance while maintaining her femininity.
Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe he was overthinking the whole thing, trying too hard to will the perfect version of his fantasy into reality.
“What are you staring at?” She splayed her hinds just enough to rotate his head, forcing his muzzle to poke at the buoyant teats hidden behind her panties. “That’s better. Look away from me again and I swear I’ll hurt you. Touch my chest if you understand.”
He did so, much to her delight.
Sighing, she hooked his foreleg with her own and hugged it to the crisscrossing laces of her corset. Her other foreleg straightened out, acting as a kind of stilt to prop her upright; and her hinds went straight and taut as well, the quads flaring prettily as they compressed either side of his throat.
Cheeks like squashed marshmallows wadded up between her inner thighs. His throat pulsed and went raw. His hind legs kicked until they didn’t. Even his wings splayed and lay limply at his sides, on the carpet. Slowly but surely, he was losing control of his faculties.
Or, rather, she was taking it from him. Hoarding it all for herself.
His eyelids drooped without his permission, and his gaze sank from her face to her underbelly. He watched it undulate with her labored breathing.
“What did I say would happen,” she panted, “if you looked away from me again?”
He hadn’t forgotten the threat. He tried to heed it now, to lift his gaze back to hers, but the simple task of moving his eyes was like swimming up a waterfall.
His eyeballs were still inching along when she rolled onto her side. Clutching the back of his head with a bent knee, she angled his snout from her teats to her mound - a deeper dive. He tasted sweat and other fluids. Lastly, she seized his free forelimb, yanked it straight and placed it beside the ensnared one, hugging both to her chest.
Her body arched that… much… more - and her hips drove into the extended forelimbs, hyperextending them.
Needles dipped in lava stabbed his elbow joints. But such pain was nothing compared to the fire in his lungs, or the pressure that weighed on him from upper neck to lower jaw.
He thought again about dominance and femininity, and realized that, during the course of his punishment, the two had become one. After all, was it not her very femininity that dominated him? The marehood that smothered his muzzle, and the thick, childbearing thighs that went on and on trying to compact his skull, to crunch it down into a smaller, tidier object.
Finally, his bleary gaze managed to return to hers. The effort earned him a harder, harsher squeeze. She smiled at the color in his cheeks, enjoying how the redness gradually cooled to a sickly purple.
“I wish you could see your face right now,” she said, almost breathless. “It’s priceless.”
There was no hint of mockery in her tone. She was being earnest. She really wanted him to see what she was seeing, to share with him this other side of the experience.
He figured he might enjoy that. Maybe they could record their next session. For now, however, he was perfectly content.
I’d been meaning to write a little something for this image for awhile now ^^. It’s a bit raunchy in spots, thus the spoiler-bar thingies.
@TekuSP
C#? Java? I tried programming once and it didn’t end well… I bet when you started at programming you weren’t the best, don’t give up so easily! You should’ve see how my drawings started out :P.
@TekuSP
Sorry, but no, I don’t take requests. Besides, I’ve got no doubt you’ll be able to make a great rendition of your idea if you give it a shot! Even if it does require a little practice you’ll acquire such a great skill afterwards. You’ve gotta to give it a try!
Don’t downplay your own work, it’s better then you think it is!
Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe he was overthinking the whole thing, trying too hard to will the perfect version of his fantasy into reality.
“What are you staring at?” She splayed her hinds just enough to rotate his head, forcing his muzzle to poke at the buoyant teats hidden behind her panties. “That’s better. Look away from me again and I swear I’ll hurt you. Touch my chest if you understand.”
He did so, much to her delight.
Sighing, she hooked his foreleg with her own and hugged it to the crisscrossing laces of her corset. Her other foreleg straightened out, acting as a kind of stilt to prop her upright; and her hinds went straight and taut as well, the quads flaring prettily as they compressed either side of his throat.
Cheeks like squashed marshmallows wadded up between her inner thighs. His throat pulsed and went raw. His hind legs kicked until they didn’t. Even his wings splayed and lay limply at his sides, on the carpet. Slowly but surely, he was losing control of his faculties.
Or, rather, she was taking it from him. Hoarding it all for herself.
His eyelids drooped without his permission, and his gaze sank from her face to her underbelly. He watched it undulate with her labored breathing.
“What did I say would happen,” she panted, “if you looked away from me again?”
He hadn’t forgotten the threat. He tried to heed it now, to lift his gaze back to hers, but the simple task of moving his eyes was like swimming up a waterfall.
His eyeballs were still inching along when she rolled onto her side. Clutching the back of his head with a bent knee, she angled his snout from her teats to her mound - a deeper dive. He tasted sweat and other fluids. Lastly, she seized his free forelimb, yanked it straight and placed it beside the ensnared one, hugging both to her chest.
Her body arched that… much… more - and her hips drove into the extended forelimbs, hyperextending them.
Needles dipped in lava stabbed his elbow joints. But such pain was nothing compared to the fire in his lungs, or the pressure that weighed on him from upper neck to lower jaw.
He thought again about dominance and femininity, and realized that, during the course of his punishment, the two had become one. After all, was it not her very femininity that dominated him? The marehood that smothered his muzzle, and the thick, childbearing thighs that went on and on trying to compact his skull, to crunch it down into a smaller, tidier object.
Finally, his bleary gaze managed to return to hers. The effort earned him a harder, harsher squeeze. She smiled at the color in his cheeks, enjoying how the redness gradually cooled to a sickly purple.
“I wish you could see your face right now,” she said, almost breathless. “It’s priceless.”
There was no hint of mockery in her tone. She was being earnest. She really wanted him to see what she was seeing, to share with him this other side of the experience.
He figured he might enjoy that. Maybe they could record their next session. For now, however, he was perfectly content.
I’d been meaning to write a little something for this image for awhile now ^^. It’s a bit raunchy in spots, thus the spoiler-bar thingies.
Programming can be an art too. Many things can be considered art. It’s quite an abstract term.
Visual C#. Programming is just mindset, art is more complicated…
C#? Java? I tried programming once and it didn’t end well… I bet when you started at programming you weren’t the best, don’t give up so easily! You should’ve see how my drawings started out :P.
Um, I am more programmer than artist. I tried drawing, I am bad at it.
Sorry, but no, I don’t take requests. Besides, I’ve got no doubt you’ll be able to make a great rendition of your idea if you give it a shot! Even if it does require a little practice you’ll acquire such a great skill afterwards. You’ve gotta to give it a try!