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It's Too Tight Chapter Four

by Magus Kiruleus

The padded insides snaked around his neck like a closing noose. His throat gave a last ditch effort to gulp, for his adam's apple to bob down and try to push away at it. But Maria made sure the collar was just a little lower then that part of his throat, before she locked the thick buckle in the front.

The werewolf whined meekly at her just once. Padded leather was already snug enough as it was, but he knew she wasn't done. His wife's hands took hold of the excess strap, ominous intent clear in their firm grip. Her eyes went back and forth from the collar, to his eyes, and kept alert watch on them as she tugged ever harder on the strap.

The collar squeezed on his thick neck from all sides, pressure building painfully with the constriction until she was satisfied with how tight it looked. He tried to take a deep breath, and the collar cut it off halfway. Yet it wasn't enough to choke him completely.

It was just enough to make things hard on him.

She gave him a minute like that, with the collar too tight, with her body teasing against his. Her fingers alternately scratched over his chest, or toyed with the clamps. He gasped several times with each twist one of the clamps, but it didn't matter how often he gasped. It never felt like he could take a full breath to his head, like his brain was only getting part of the oxygen it was used to and the rest was filling up on sensation. His body fought the restraints in a sometimes slow, sometimes fast squirm of constant motion.

A minute passed, his head drowning in ecstasy, and suddenly the pressure came undone. The collar loosed, her hands rubbed along his neck instead, and he groaned deep and long as a fresh hammer struck at his head.

"Too tight?" she asked, concern for him fighting with her desire to pull the slack out of it again and get him back to frantic squirming.

Whimpering again, he nodded to her. One playful finger dragged down the crevice between his pecs.

"We wanted tight..." she reminded him, making the wolf give a small whine beneath her.

"Ai ... Ai," he gulped, trying to compare what he felt with what was to come. "Ai can't ... take that, fer two hours..."

"You sure, dear?" she asked gently, letting her finger stroke underneath his chin now instead.

"Uh huh... It's t-too much, honeylove..."

"Are you certain?" she pressed a little bit more, garnering another miniscule whine from his throat. She accepted that as answer, and nodded back. "If you're certain, then ... but I'd still like to make it a little snug, if you don't mind..."

The beast shifted nervously in his restraints again.

"C-could handle ... that..." he said very softly.

"And at the very end," she continued, leaning down to wrap her arms around his neck and whisper at his ear once more. Ferr's body struggled a bit more, rubbing himself more insistently against her small figure.

"The end?" he asked, voice tinged with a note of fear.

"Yes. The end," she repeated as she reached into the playbag for something else. His eyes switched back and forth from her to the small chain, as she started attaching each end to one of the clamps on his chest. "You remember. Like last time you wore that collar. Right at the very end, when you were about to explode, and I pulled it too tight..."

Oh, how he remembered.

"I can still do that, right?" she inquired while giving a quick tug on the chain. Both clamps pulled on his nipples at the same time and made his body arch with the latest gasp.

The wolf looked to her, biting his lip or a moment, before he gave her another agreeable nod. His wife smiled bright-eyed, and left the bushy-tailed to him. Her left hand held on to the chain as her right went exploring in the bag again, before pulling out the muzzle that both knew was going to go in soon.

"Y-you won't be ... too rough, on me, right?" he asked in what he instinctively knew was his last chance to say anything - what he knew was the climactic make-it-or-break-it moment for him. And knowing it was his last chance to say anything, his body already screaming for release in more ways the one, half of it begged him to ask for more, and half begged him for it all to stop.

The woman tugged the clamps' chain to full extension and then some to give her answer loud and clear. The werewolf's back arched and rose off the bed, breathing hard in response as he tried to release the stress on sensitive discs of flesh. She let go of it slowly to lean in to his ear, and then ghosted one word across the lobe.

"Boundaries."

He shuddered as he swallowed hard, and dared to nod as one voice spoke loudest.

"Push them," he said, ordered, asked, begged.

The collar cinched tight again, more than snug but not to the painful level of before. It still happened fast enough to make him gasp, and quick as a flash, the ballgag-muzzle was shoved over his mouth. His tongue struggled to readjust the sudden obstruction of the ballgag and he tried to chew it into a better spot, but Maria was already strapping it in place in the back. The muzzle part ensured he wouldn't be opening his jaws any wider than that, and with the ball pinning his tongue too, he wouldn't be able to articulate much of anything with his mouth.

And that was precisely why she loved putting it on him: being voiceless put him even more at her mercy, like a living toy. His great body was hers to do with as she wanted, completely and fully, and now he could little more express a complaint than he could fight against her - a fact she exploited by flicking each clamp once more.

"Nmm. Mmph." his voice complained uselessly. When that didn't work, and she flicked at the clamps again, his eyes tried to do their part.

Her answer to that, equally nonverbal, was to dig out a blindfold from the playbag.

His eyes got their absolute widest, and he looked upon her with all the meekness he could muster.

"Should have known this was coming," she teased, and took a moment to raise her arms above her head, then swept them gracefully down her own figure - giving his eyes something to feast on before the inevitable blackness.

And since it was clear she had already decided, the whimpering muzzled beast did the only reasonable thing, and gazed upon his dearest's form for as long as he could. His mouth felt watery and hungry, and wet lips drooled slightly around the muzzle. His tongue fought against the ballgag between his teeth, wanting to get at her skin, at her breasts. Yet even without the muzzle, the rest of the restraints held his limbs down far too tightly for him to get close enough for that.

She rubbed the blindfold against the skin of her stomach, attracting his eyes down that way. He followed it like a hypnotic charm, focusing only on it as it moved around and around and up and down ... and closer ... and closer ... and he only thought to give her one last, desperate look up at his wife's face, when it was at the bridge of his nose.

She grinned.

And then all was blackness, and he was oh so very turned on that his whole body took a moment to tremble and pull - one massive beast, his strength bulging against everything that had him so helpless.

He felt her nails dragging through his chest fur and then across his abs, following each up and down curve of where muscle threatened to push through the skin. His breaths came in faster through his nose as he felt those same nails trailing gently down the side of his neck, down the front of his neck, and then spreading elsewhere. Her fingertips journeyed down the lengths of each arm, then scratched slowly across each pit as they continued to outline his skin in the dark, dark world of his existence.

"Mmmmph," he shook his head, tugging at each side again.

"Shush," she ordered, and a sudden flick of her finger on the left nipple clamp made him say it even louder. "I said I wouldn't tickle you, and I'm not."

He whined several notes as her fingers scratched down his pits again anyway.

"I'm exploring..." her voice teased closer to his ear. Her weight shifted more across his body, until it centered more on top his upper abs. It hindered his breathing only a little bit, but it was enough for him to focus more on air - and so he was expecting it less, as her nails etched out his hipline.

"MMM, hrmmm," he shivered as he tried to speak, only making her do it again. His knees defensively pumped inwards again, the most motion any of his limbs had. Her adventurous fingernails went across his thighs too, scratching more firmly along them, but they were still fighting and failing to protect himself. A tap of her fingers to his speedo-outlined sack only made that even clearer.

"You know..." her words terrified him, "I just don't think you're helpless enough."

His arms shuddered all the way from his mitted hands to his brawny shoulders.

The bag rustled closer, carrying more implements inside that were designed for his torture - his pleasure. His fears were at least mildly eased when he felt a longer strap being tied around his left thigh, just above the knee. He knew what was coming before she finished tying another strap to his other leg, at the same place. He tested his legs anyway after another moment, trying to tug his knees out wide. They couldn't move more than an inch.

Then he tried squeezing his legs in. The smaller of the two spreader bars kept them apart, so now even his knees couldn't move anymore. The only motion left to Ferr was the turning of his head, and the bobbing of his iron manhood. Her fingernails gently rasped along the latter of those two, and the beast shook again - but this time, his legs were near motionless.

He whined more insistently as she took the head of his member in her hand, holding it straight up and squeezing around it. He had to take a breath for how good it felt, but then another shiver took the wolf as the nails of her other hand once more trailed harmlessly down the bare skin of his shaft. She started just below the head, and went slowly down to the cockring at the base, circling around the pole like she was peeling a banana.

The nails never scratched him, but the light, delicate touch on his ramrod member was absolutely maddening. His abs tightened and formed a brick wall beneath her - a brick wall padded by his fur only. His thighs stayed clenched and even the thicker fur of his legs couldn't stop the massive quadriceps from showing off. His upper back jerked off the bed an inch or two, whenever her nails came across an extra sensitive spot on his shaft.

No amount of plaintive noise or useless struggling could convince her to change tactics. When her other hand finally squeezed down his manhood - whenever that was - it was only because he was getting too messy again. Her hand smeared his pre up and down the hard tool until it was practically slick with the stuff. He was already so sensitive from the teasing that just that action was enough to make him pant, breathing in too much, too fast.

"Who's my tough guy?" her words stroked his ego and made the whole rest of his body thrill for it.

Through the muzzle-gag combo, a very strained voice struggled to reply. Pumping over his slick member made everything unintelligible though, and pointless noise only got worse when she started fondling his sack at the same time.

"My big tough guy?" she asked again, giving his balls a not-that-gentle squeeze through the speedo.

Another jerk of his body went along with a soft, haggard, "Ahhh" through the gag.

If he could have seen the wicked grin that brought to her features, he would have tried to hold his peace.

Her hand pumped more intensely, more rapidly over the length of his erection, wringing out more noise, more motion, and then she made it even worse for him. Her free hand slipped inside the purple speedo, and her fingers stroked over his sack directly. He shuddered again - a prelude to even more as she toyed and teased with the vulnerable orbs. Pitiful noises came out with groans alike, and when panting could get no faster, she finally let go of his manhood.

For the second or third time that hour, his brain lost the ability to think straight. A part of his brain screamed for her not to, to keep rubbing because he only needed a bit more to pop. Another part, aware of the cockring's powers, knew he wasn't getting an orgasm any time soon and that as torturous as it was to let go, it would only be more agonizing if she kept jacking him off.

There was nothing for him to do but shake his head against the bed and whine as she continued to fondle and stroke his balls for an even greater period of time. The tip of his manhood might as well have been a faucet, which someone turned on and forgot to turn off. His whines pitched higher every time she smeared the pre along his member. He could only imagine how slick it looked now, so wet she may as well have covered it in lube.

"Is something wrong, tough guy?" she asked with that same playful tone, squeezing his sack again right as he tried to mutter something.

"Hrrnnngghnnnn," the noise came out, tossing his head the other direction.

"I hope not," she said too softly, and obviously didn't mean it. "I mean, it's only been half an hour..."

His body strained against the cuffs again, and then he went limp with the smallest, "Nngh..."