Broken Submission

A Gift

"Sweetheart." Someone nudged her shoulder. "Come on, we need to get moving."

"Mmhmm." She rolled onto her stomach.

She vaguely heard a soft laugh. "Well, I tried to be nice."

"OW!" she yelped as she jerked upright, tumbling off the bed in her haste to escaping the source of the sudden stinging in her backside.

She stared at the ceiling as Derek's laughter filled the room. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Amelia tried to focus on his face, now looming over hers.

"That wasn't nice," she muttered.

His face smoothed in false repentance. "Of course not, honey. Here, let's get you up."

She tried to push away his extended hand, but he just grabbed her wrist and yanked her up so hard that she flew into his chest.

"Oomph," she coughed, feeling like her lungs had collapsed on impact. "You beast, let go before you break me."

He released her. She rubbed her chest as he stooped down to peer at her face with concern. "Are you alright? Did I actually hurt you?"

Her wrist actually did ache from his grip, but she didn't want him to feel bad. "No, no I'm fine. Really." She smiled at him.

His face cleared. "Well then, go ahead and get all your girly shit done so we can leave." He snatched the tail off the bed with a grin. "I call dibs on helping with this part."

"Dibs? Seriously?"

He smirked. "I'd like to leave in the next half hour, so you better get moving."

Her eyes widened. Snatching up the rest of the outfit, she disappeared into the bathroom.

Derek stared at the door, contemplating the changes he'd seen in her since she'd moved in with him. She'd relaxed—no longer finishing each sentence with a "sir." She'd started making casual eye-contact and was becoming more comfortable with everyday banter. She'd become generally more animated.

While he had no illusions that that would still be the case outside of his apartment, it gave him hope that one day she might be willing to come out of her shell. Her consent to speaking with Sam therapeutically was a big step. She needed to work through her traumas if she was ever going to learn to let people in again.

The edges of his mouth pulled down as he thought about her asshole ex-husband. Derek had tried working with the local police, but so far, they'd had no luck. The guy was in the wind. Amelia didn't know that Derek was pursuing charges, and at the moment he wanted it to stay that way. She was too terrified, too used to silence to get anything except stress from the knowledge.

A bang from the bathroom pulled him out of his thoughts. He checked the clock—he needed to get ready too. He pulled on some dark jeans and a dark purple button down, almost black. As he finished up the shirt, the bathroom door creaked open.  He looked up, and immediately, his jeans felt too tight.

She'd ironed her auburn hair into soft curls, the cat ears nestled in the mass. She was wearing makeup, smoky eyes and red lips. Her corset plumped up the cleavage that he'd been studiously monitoring as her diet improved. The meals he made sure she ate had given her a nice handful up top. The skirt clung to her narrow waist and flared just below her ass, making her legs look incredibly long. She'd even painted her toe nails purple to match.

He stared. Even when she started fidgeting in place, he couldn't help it.

"I suddenly don't want to go out," he said, grit lacing his voice.

She blushed. "It's—it's not quite finished, sir."

Heat flooded through him at the reminder. He stalked toward her, suddenly feeling very beast-like, and she was most definitely his prey. Her intake of breath made her chest rise, the globes of her breasts raised and offered to him. He stopped, and she quivered before him.

Moving slowly, he closed the door behind her so that her back pressed against the wood. Then he moved forward so that every inch of her was trapped against his body. He lifted her arms, pinning them above her head with one hand. A noise escaped her mouth, a mixture of fear and desire, and it broke the last of his control.

He captured her lips with his own, sweeping his tongue through them when she gasped. Her mouth was minty, freshly brushed, and he licked and sucked and nibbled at her lips until her knees gave out, and he held her upright.

"Derek," she breathed when he allowed her to come up for air.

He groaned. "Kitten, you have made it very difficult to get to the Club tonight."

"Me?" she laughed. "I haven't started any of this."

He nipped her bottom lip before pushing back. "Sure you have. By being so damn sexy."

She stared at him, hair mussed, lipstick long gone. Probably on his face. He swiped at his mouth just in case.

"Over the bed with you," he said, determined to get them out the door. He was amused by how shaky her legs were as she walked across the room into the position. Her skirt lifted just enough to show off the fact the she wasn't wearing panties.

He took a deep breath, pleased when he caught a whiff of her arousal. "Now kitten, let's see if you enjoyed our make out session enough for me the get this tail in you or if I'll have to go get the lube."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," she mumbled.

He grinned. Taking her skirt between his fingers, he flipped it up. God, he'd never get enough of her. Her legs were already spread, back arched to reveal her pretty pink lips and the little holes that he couldn't wait to fill.

Her pussy had recovered from the slap he'd laid on it, but her back hole was still deeply red. Hopefully, it was still loose enough that he'd be able to get the plug in without too much discomfort to her. Gripping the base of the plug, he ran it through her lips, making sure to gather as much of her juices as possible. He pressed it inside, and she groaned, but her hips didn't move an inch. Good girl.

They were both panting by the time he raised the toy to her bottom hole. He worked the ring of muscles as gently as he could. He'd almost certainly made her more sore than he'd originally intended. A breathy whine forced its way out of her throat with each centimeter he pushed into her.

"That's a good girl," he murmured. "You're doing so well."

Her body relaxed at his words, and he was able to push the plug in another inch. Now, they were at the widest point, and then they'd be done.

He stroked her thighs. "One more, okay? You're almost there."

She gasped for air. When he saw an opportunity, he forced the plug in the rest of the way. She squealed, the force of its entrance pushing her flat on the bed. Stepping back, Derek admired the sight of her, ass raised in the air, legs spread with the poofy tail swaying between them. As she caught her breath, she lifted herself back into position.

He settled her skirt in place, pulling the tail through its designated hole. "You did very well," he praised. "You may stand."

She lifted herself unsteadily. She glanced toward her back, then up at him. "May I?"

He smiled. "Sure, go ahead."

She hurried to the bathroom. Amelia stared at the tail protruding from her behind. It was... weird. The plug felt massive, stretching her. The weight kept her attention. But looking at the whole outfit, she could admit that she looked sexy. She quickly slipped on the thong that came with the outfit. It was barely a scrap of fabric, but it made her feel better. With a swipe of her lipstick, she was done.

"Are you ready, kitten?" Derek called through the door.

She shivered. The nickname appealed to her, and she hoped that he continued to use it even when she didn't have a tail plugged into her bottom.

"Yes sir," she said as she emerged. "Ready when you are."