"Street puppy, you're mine" Coiling a collar around my neck, he smiled. How he still managed an easy grin, I know not. Still, I knew better than to struggle against a Catcher. Lifting me bridal style, he tugs wisps of brown fuzz out of my face. "Your name?" My breath quickens as he ignores me, opening the car door. Placing me gently on the seat, he whispers, "Bryant. My name is Bryant." And we are off. To me, this section of the city is a maze; the Catcher a lone guide. Following him up the steps to his apartment, I shiver. "Cold?" He teases, swinging open the door. On my heels, he nudges me towards the only room with a door. My body tingles as I ease myself down onto the matress. I scan the walls, watching for any tool he plans to use. Cuffs are clicked onto my hands. Damn, I forgot about the collar. At the moment, any escape attempt would be useless. A smelly cloth is dragged over my eyes as he begins to peel my leggings off. My breath hitches at the sound of his fly unzipping, and I feel his mouth over mine. I am overthrown by his supple lips, pulling me into him as our breath aligns. His thumb makes its way pay my under wear, to my soft clit. He rubs, forcing a moan of pleasure from my mouth. "Shh..." He hems his thumb up, and I follow his lead. Anticipating his movement, I squirm as he presses his dick against my lips. "Oh, god." I murmur. He kisses me again, this time thrusting. My whimper is cut short as he adds a finger, then two, until I can't breathe. "Sto-- st-- Don't stop" I sigh as he presses deeper. Quickly finding a rhythm, I feel the pressure between my legs building, being for release. His eyes reveal his mirror of near orgasm. Suddenly, he stops. "No. You don't deserve pleasure."
