Chapter 34 Covers.

Chapter 34: 34 Covers.

As I was having some kind of happy dream or another when something started thumping against my leg like a furry, physical alarm clock.

The weak dawn light leaking through my blinds suggested it was stupid o’clock in the morning—that magical hour when only psychopaths and overachievers are awake.

The thumping continued, rhythmic and insistent.

I cracked one eye open to investigate and found myself staring at Ayra’s tail, which was wagging against the mattress like it was trying to generate electricity.

The dog-girl was wide awake. Her amber eyes fixed on the ceiling, her face flushed with color.

"Ayra?" I whispered, careful not to wake Elsa, who was snuggling me like a teddy bear on the other side. "Everything okay?"

She startled. "Master! I... I didn’t realize you were conscious."

"Your tail’s pounding my leg," I explained, nodding at the appendage that was still twitching heedlessly of her obvious attempts to play it cool.

"Oh!" Her ears flattened in mortification. "Deepest apologies. I was experiencing a vivid fantasy—I mean, a nightmare. A most terrible and definitely not enjoyable nightmare about my cruel Master’s harsh punishments."

"About what?" I asked, already knowing I probably didn’t want the answer.

She swallowed hard enough that I heard it. "About... receiving discipline. From you. For various infractions." The way she said ’discipline’ made it clear this dream had been rated way past PG-13. "My vicious overlord forcing his will upon his helpless servant. How dreadful!" A wink completely undermined the horrified look on her face.

"Right," I said. What do you say when your housemate admits to having horny dreams about you? "Well, it was just a dream. Back to sleep?"

Ayra sat up suddenly, clutching the sheets to her chest. "But don’t you see? My tail has disturbed your sacred rest! I’ve committed the very transgression I was dreaming about! No doubt my sadistic Master will want to punish his disobedient bitch severely."

"Seriously, it’s fine," I assured her, patting her gently on the head. "Just an accident."

"No, no," she insisted, her voice rising before she caught herself and dropped to a stage whisper. "I suppose I must submit to whatever cruel punishment you devise." She glanced at Elsa’s sleeping form. "Though if you’re concerned about waking the Princess, perhaps I could perform a quiet act of servitude instead.

Something that would please my harsh overlord while proving my worth and debasing me in the same breath. How dreadful that would be!" Her eyes sparkled with horny glee.

"That’s really not—" My words died instantly as Ayra whipped off her pajama top in one fluid motion.

Her breasts were even fuller than Elsa’s perfect rack, round with—holy shit—small silver rings piercing each nipple.

The light creeping through the curtains caught the metal as she tossed the shirt aside and reached for something on the nightstand.

She produced a thin leather leash that I was pretty sure hadn’t been there when I went to bed, and clipped it to her collar.

Then she placed the handle in my hand like she was passing me the key to the city.

"Pull as you deem appropriate," she whispered, eyes submissively downcast. "Use it to control the pace."

"What pace?" I asked, though my subconscious was already filling in the gaps.

Instead of answering with words, Ayra slowly pulled back the covers, revealing my morning wood making a tent in my boxers.

With fingers that trembled slightly—from excitement, not nerves—she tugged the waistband down, freeing my cock, which sprang up like it just remembered it had somewhere important to be.

"Oh my," she breathed, eyes widening. "This cock is even more magnificently oppressive than I imagined. I suppose my brutal master expects his lowly servant to attend to this. How very... shameful! Pah-tooey!" She actually spit right on the head of my cock, then used her hand to spread the moisture around with doting strokes that suggested the shame was anything but unwelcome.

I opened my mouth to list all the reasons this was a terrible idea—starting with "Elsa is literally right there"—but coherent thought evaporated as Ayra lowered her head and ran her tongue along the underside of my cock from base to tip.

The jolt of pleasure nearly launched me into the air. My hips bucked involuntarily, and Ayra smiled smugly at the fruits of her prowess.

She wrapped her fingers around the base, steadying her target, then took the head into her mouth.

The wet heat of her mouth was like diving into a hot spring after a Minnesota winter.

Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head with expertise that would have implied extensive practice if I didn’t already know that these girls were sexually inexperienced.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper, desperately trying not to make sounds that would wake Elsa, but the battle was going poorly.

Ayra began to bob her head, taking me deeper with each pass. The wet sounds—slurping, sucking noises that echoed off the walls—were obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom.

When she pulled back for air, my cock even left her mouth with a pop.

The leash dangled forgotten in my hand until Ayra paused, looking up at me expectantly.

When I didn’t move, she reached up and tugged, making the message crystal clear: take control.

Against every shred of better judgment I’d ever possessed, I gave the leash an experimental pull.

Ayra responded immediately, sinking back down with primal enthusiasm. Her pierced nipples grazed my thighs as she took me deeper, the metal adding sensation to an already overwhelming experience.

"Gluck, gluck, gluck," went the soundtrack of my moral downfall as she worked me over.

Her throat relaxed to accommodate more of me than physics or biology should allow.

She pulled back, gasping. Strings of saliva still connected her lips to my cock. Sweet Lord.

Then it happened. Terror gripped my heart as Elsa stirred beside me.

She murmured something in what might have been Elvish sleepy-talk, shifting closer until her small hand landed on my chest. In the most desperate slow series of movements of my life, I pulled the covers back over my crotch—and Ayra’s head.

Ayra, displaying the survival instincts of a lemming, didn’t even pause. If anything, the risk of discovery spurred her to greater efforts.

She deep-throated me with gusto, her nose pressing against my abdomen as she swallowed around me. The sensation was like being squeezed by a velvet vise.

Elsa’s eyes fluttered open, still unfocused with sleep. She smiled dreamily at me, apparently oblivious to the earthquake happening under the covers.