You've just arrived home, earlier than usual, with your head full of possibilities. You think about changing clothes, but realize your thirst is more urgent than the demand for comfort, so walk slowly to the kitchen, still in that tight skirt that occasionally makes the corners of your mouth curl into a smile. You know you look good in it and think back to the surreptitious glances of the males you've caught staring today, chuckling to yourself. You smile again as you hear the heels of your shoes click across the kitchen floor. You MAY have overdone it with the "fuck me silly" pumps, but you revel in the way your ass sways as you walk and you exaggerate the slut walk as you approach the 'fridge almost losing it in laughter as you open the door and lean forward.
Your debate over what to drink dissipates as you feel the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rise... right before the hand snakes forward to cover your mouth. Your eyes flare wide as a second hand curls around your waist and pulls you backwards gently, but firmly into an undeniably male body. You can feel your heart racing and the blood roaring in your ears as your mind scrambles for what the intent of the intruder might be, almost missing the soft voice whispering,
"I've come for you, want you, and will have you."
Your sex floods immediately, even before your brain recognizes the voice... your body betraying itself like an animal in heat. The hands subtly relax, still poised to pin you once again, but as your tail insinuates itself back to press into the obvious maleness, the hand on your mouth softens yet again, caressing over your lips, chin and downward to stroke like a feather at the hollow of your throat. The other hand isn't idle either... dragging slowly along your waist and over the slight swell of your belly, but the moan from deep in your throat doesn't escape until you feel the heel of that palm press firmly into your flesh and down over your mound.
The honey from your sex is literally soaking the insides of your thighs and you feel the sticky liquid get even more viscous as you're guided across the floor to the sink. The hands move once more... one to your nape, the other to your lower back... guiding you to bend over the sink. The hand at your nape caresses your skin while the other leaves you. Your mind wanders with it, wondering what may happen next. Your uneasiness builds as the stroking at your continues, then turns to outright alarm as you feel a cold, hard object slip between the waist of your skirt and your skin. The hand at your nape closes suddenly keeping your head down, while the object twists under your skirt. You barely stifle a scream at the sudden jerk and tear of the material above your tail, but your alarm flips to confusion when the knife clatters into the sink beneath your breasts.
The hand at your nape relaxes, but hovers over your neck, and you faintly understand it's there to remind you to stay in place. The other hand trails the beds of its fingernails up either side of your spine, and the delicious feeling eases your concerns once more. As the traveling hand meets its stationary partner, it pauses before being joined by the other to gently rake eight nails down your back. Your mind becomes languid as both hands alternately caress and rake your back thru the thin material of your blouse.
As they pause at the bottom of their travels, you anticipate another gentle caress of nail beds, yet are shocked once more at the gunshot rip of your skirt from waist to hem. As you come up off the sink, a hand snakes to your mouth to obviate any protest, and the second curls around your body to latch thumb and forefinger on the nipple of the opposite breast. The pelvis behind you is ground into your tail pinning you once more to the sink as the thumb and forefinger squeeze your nipple forcefully. The digits elicit a sobbing scream from your covered mouth as they cruelly twist your nipple in their vise-like grip. The lips are a hair's breadth from your ear when they whisper,
