Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties

She was on her hands and knees on the rug in front of him when he came back into the room.

He stopped in the doorway and looked at her.

The costume was a black bodysuit, matte and fitted, following every line of her from the neck down with the specific commitment of something that had been made to do exactly that and nothing else.

A hood with rounded ears sat on her head, her blonde hair tucked back beneath it. A tail attached at the base of her spine curved upward behind her, the arc of it sitting above the round of her ass.

The fabric across her chest was cut low enough that the upper curve of her boobs pressed against the neckline from the inside, warm and visible above the black material, sitting there every time she shifted her weight or moved her arms.

Paw gloves on her hands, soft and rounded.

Her face entirely open to him, her own face, her amber eyes looking up at him from the floor with the expression of someone doing something they had agreed to and were not going to acknowledge further than that.

Liam looked at her.

He took his time about it.

At the costume and the way it sat on her. At the tail and the ears and the specific combination of all of it. At her boobs pressing against the neckline every time she breathed. At her ass in the black fabric with the tail above it.

’I picked the right one,’ he thought. ’As much as I’m mad at Stella, I’m also glad she made all this possible as well.’

He let the moment sit for several seconds longer than she was comfortable with, which he could tell from the way her fingers pressed slightly into the rug.

"Sit," he said.

She sat back on her heels immediately, her paw hands coming up in front of her chest, the tail settling behind her, her eyes on him.

He walked slowly around her in a half circle, looking at her from the side and then from behind and then from the other side, his hands in his pockets, taking his time with all of it.

She stayed in the sitting position and tracked him with her eyes without turning her body.

He came back around to the front and looked at her face.

"Twirl," he said.

She went onto all fours and turned in a slow circle on the rug.

The tail followed the arc of her turn.

Her boobs pressed against the inside of the neckline on each forward pass toward him, the fabric straining slightly with the movement.

Her ass and the tail above it were entirely visible on each away pass, the bodysuit pulling tight across the full curve of it as she moved.

He watched the full rotation.

"Good girl," he said.

She stopped and looked at him from the floor with the specific expression of someone who had decided to be here and was present and doing this and that was the complete extent of the performance they were offering.

He reached for his jacket and took it off and set it aside. Then his shirt. He let both of them land somewhere without paying attention to where and crouched down to her level.

She watched him come down to her height.

He reached out and ran one hand slowly down the line of her back, from the base of her neck all the way down her spine to where the tail was attached, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric, the bodysuit thin enough that the heat of her skin came through it immediately.

She exhaled.

He ran his hand back up.

Then down again, slower this time, spreading his palm wider across her lower back and then across the curve of her ass, feeling the full shape of it under his hand, the fabric pulled tight enough that there was nothing between his palm and the shape of her except the thin black material.

"Turn around," he said.

She turned, presenting her back to him, her ass toward him, the tail curving up above it.

He stayed crouched behind her and put both hands on her ass, spreading his palms across it, pressing in slowly and feeling it give under his hands. He squeezed and released. Squeezed again in a different place. Ran his thumbs along the line where the fabric was pulled tightest and felt her shift her weight slightly with the contact.

He found the small access point the costume had been designed with at the base.

He worked it open.

He gripped the base of the plug that was seated inside her and pulled slowly.

"Oh," she said, the word arriving in increments as it came free, each millimeter of removal producing its own specific sound, her head dropping between her arms as the last of it came out.

He set it aside and looked at what he was looking at.

He stayed there for a moment.

Then he told her to hold still.

He pressed the tip of the plug against her other entrance and worked it in carefully, one hand on the small of her back, the other managing the angle of the plug, his pace entirely unhurried, giving her time to adjust to each increment before adding the next.

"Oh," she said. "Oh god." Her arms bent slightly, her chest dropping closer to the rug, her whole body orienting around the specific sensation of the plug seating itself properly, her sounds arriving in small punctuated bursts with each degree of progress. "Oh. Oh that’s."

He held it there once it was fully in.

He put both hands on her hips and felt her breathing through his palms, felt the small involuntary movements her body was making around the new placement, the specific tightness of her from the outside even through the fabric.

He ran one hand slowly up her back while the other stayed at her hip.

He ran it back down.

He spread both palms across her ass again and pressed, feeling the difference the plug was making in the tension of everything, the way even the exterior of her had changed from the pressure of it sitting inside her.

She was making small sounds into the rug without deciding to make them.

He positioned himself.

He pushed in slowly.

The first inch produced a sound from her that had no shape to it, just sound, raw and immediate, her hands gripping the rug hard, her back arching down toward the floor as her body received both things simultaneously.

He stayed still for a moment.

Both hands on her hips. Feeling her breathe. Feeling her adjust around everything that was now inside her, the specific way she was gripping him from the additional pressure of the plug, the tightness of it unlike anything the position usually produced.

"Oh god," she said into the rug. "Oh. Oh Liam."

He started moving.

One slow stroke, pulling most of the way back and pressing forward again, feeling every millimeter of the return stroke, the specific sensation of her around him with the plug present producing something that required him to breathe carefully.

"Oh," she said. Her voice arriving muffled and continuous, face still low, arms braced. "Oh. Oh god that’s. Oh."

He drove forward again.

Her whole body rocked with it, the rug shifting beneath her knees, the tail above her moving with the motion of her hips, her boobs pressing against the inside of the bodysuit neckline and pulling back with each stroke, the ears on the hood askew from where her head had been pressing into her arms.

Ta. Ta. Ta.

He moved one hand from her hip to the curve of her lower back, pressing flat there, feeling the motion of everything from the outside, feeling the subtle movement of the plug through the wall between them with each stroke, the whole arrangement producing something that was requiring more concentration than he usually needed to apply to this.

"Oh," she said. "Oh. Oh right there. Oh god right there."

He kept right there.

His other hand moved from her hip to her ass, gripping it properly, spreading his palm across it and pressing in as he drove forward, the flesh of it shifting under his grip with each stroke, warm and full and present in his hand.

Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.

"Oh," she said. "Oh Liam. Oh god."

He leaned forward without stopping, his chest coming closer to her back, and reached under her with one hand, finding the neckline of the bodysuit and pressing his palm flat against her boob from below, holding it in his hand as he kept moving, feeling it shift with each stroke, warm and heavy in his palm.

She made a sound that had no words anywhere in it.

His thumb found her nipple through the fabric and pressed.

"Oh," she said. "Oh. Oh that’s. Oh god."

Papap. Papap. Papap.

He drove harder, his hand on her boob pressing slightly tighter with each forward stroke, his other hand gripping her ass and pulling her back to meet each drive, the two of them working together now rather than him working and her receiving, her hips pushing back with genuine intention.

"Oh," she said. "Oh. Oh I’m going to. Oh god I’m going to."

Papap. Papap. Papap. Papap.

"Oh," she said. "Oh Liam. Oh. Oh."

He pressed his thumb harder against her nipple and drove forward and held deep and felt everything around him tighten at once as she came, her whole body locking, her hands white on the rug, a long continuous sound leaving her into the apartment, her hips pressing back against him through every wave.

He followed her into it, his jaw tight, a rough sound leaving him as everything released deep inside her, his hand still on her boob, his other gripping her ass, both of them locked.

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