So I've decided it's time for this kitty to really buckle down - if I have any intention of becomming anything on here, I really need to put the effort forward, yes?

So I'm over-hauling just a tad, going to attempt a three-post weekly limit for myself, as well as linking to a few things that would make me appear more professional in my eyes. Eh. Maybe it's a hopeless cause, maybe not ^^ who knows right?

So - on that note, what is going on in the world of Omega? Well, since my split with Reikhard, things have been...less than savoury for me. I was lost, confused, trying to figure out what went wrong, where *I* went wrong, am I really the submissive I think I am or am I just fooling myself?

While trying to figure this out I have distanced myself - trying to approach lovers from my past, not for any ill intentions of course, but for answers.

This has created quite the journey for me, as, a past relationship offers a promising future. We'll call this person, Alpha...as that what he truly is, the Alpha to my Omega. Will Omega return to masters of her past?

Maybe. It's a bit too soon to tell.

I know what I want in my life, and I know I have yet to find it, I am still young however, and know there is still time. I recently came upon a good friend of mines blog about how she viewed her relationship with her Master, This post is located [ h e r e ] This is very much how I view what my own future might hold, although we never can tell with these things can we?

For now....I am enjoying recreating a past that I thought was forever gone. So I hope you enjoy my future adventures with Alpha. I know I will :). <3.

So long time no post here...I suppose I should explain myself a little bit. My master/rabbit and I split due to personal differences. He was asking things of me I could not, would not, give...I am too submissive to ever ask him to change, too dominant to ever be willing to change that much for him.

The point of the matter is, I was scared, he began to speak of things he wanted to do - that I was not into, at all, that I told him I wasn't. He refused to listen. Things I have phobias of that he wanted to take advantage of. He spoke of hurting me, and not caring that I did not, would not like it.

This isn't submission. This is abuse. I do not tolerate that and maybe, just maybe, that makes me a bad submissive, maybe I am not really submissive. I'm not sure.

I'm trying to find myself, my center. I am spending some time by myself, enjoying me, trying to figure out exactly what it is in this life that I want or need.

I blame myself for this failed relationship mostly because I led him to believe I was entirely willing, when it was very obvious, that I couldn't be. It has made me afraid to ever attempt to give myself to someone else again...

Maybe all I've ever thought about myself is a lie.

I just pray I find my way.

Showered, fed and dry, Omega and Reikhard settled in for the evening. It’s Saturday night and they're in their apartment, which still needs some major redesigning in her opinion but there’s no restlessness waking in her, making her tense, sending her fingers tapping and making her frown herself into a headache; she’s with Reikhard and they could be in a freakin’ cardboard box and he’d make it feel safe.

With him watching her like she’s some kind of alien, she mixes up the perfect vodka milkshake, ignoring his protests, and giggling when he covers his eyes dramatically as she tips up the vodka bottle and glugs in some of the Gray Goose he said was wasted on anything but a martini.

“Reik, live a little,” she says coming close and wrapping one arm around his neck as she gives him a chocolate flavored kiss. “It’s green eggs and ham time.”

He crosses his arms and gives her an annoyed look – which he’s totally mastered – and shakes his head a tiny bit. “I think not. I bought myself enough of actual alcohol to last an atomic bomb. I’ll –”

She tries to snap out his name and fix him with a commanding glare but it fails miserably and he lifts one eyebrow – damn, does he spend hours practicing this stuff or what? – and looks smug. “Chicken,” she says finally, when she’s held the glass to his lips and he’s kept them so firmly closed you couldn’t pry them open with anything, not even a kiss (she tried that one first of all). She gives him a few clucks and a disappointed look and sighs heavily.

“I’m not,” he says, when she’s stepped back. “I simply have more respect for decent alcohol than you do.”

“Whatever,” she says airily, twirling away and taking a dainty sip. “Still think you’re denying yourself a potentially taste bud enhancing experience through stubbornness and – hey!”

“Was that supposed to be an imitation of me?” he says, his voice grating in her ear, his arms holding her tightly against him. He’d moved when her back was turned and her drink’s in danger of spilling because once he’s done whispering he bites down on her earlobe and the small fierce pain makes her jump and quiver in his arms.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me, sir,” she says huskily, grinding her ass gently against him and feeling him harden. She dips a finger in the shake and reaches up over her shoulder. “Try it, and I’ll wake you up with a blow-job for the next week if you like.”

“I don’t like the predictable,” he says, easing back so there’s space between his cock and her ass which takes all the fun away from it. She pops her dripping finger between her lips, making sure her head’s turned so he gets an eyeful, and moans the way she does when his tongue’s flickering against her clit, all appreciative and gaspy.

He rolls his eyes and she guesses he recognized it because he sounds vaguely insulted when he says, “It can’t be that good.”

“Well, you’ll never know, will you?”

She’s about to give up and let him have his boring whiskey on rocks, when he removes the glass from her hand deftly and steps back, holding up a warning hand as she follows him. Entranced, she watches him take a sniff and wrinkle up his nose the way her cat used to when his food had been left out for too long. She expects him to take the teeniest of tiny sips but instead he raises the glass to his lips and downs a good third of it with grim determination. He pauses for breath, stares down at the glass as if he can’t believe he’s holding it and shudders as if it was neat brandy or something.

She saunters over and smiles up at him. “Reikhard! You hero,” she purrs admiringly. “That took balls. Want to finish it off?”

He closes his eyes in mute agony and shakes his head and she chuckles and leans in close, wiping away his milk moustache with delicate dabs of her fingertips until he’s all cleaned up.

“Thank you,” he says, lemon-sour, “for teaching me that you have absolute zero good taste when it comes to alcohol ." He burps. “And making me feel rather unwell.”

“If you throw up, you’re not going to blame me are you?” she says.

He shakes his head. “I, ah, took your dare. Any consequences are my fault.” He eyes her. “You won’t get punished for that.”

“Oh.” She can’t help letting a bit of disappointment creep in. Not that she wants Reik hurling his cookies, or –

“Why Kitten,” he drawls. “Can it be that you did that expecting reprisals?” He strokes his finger down her cheek and pinches her chin as an encore. “Did you want me to punish you?” he asks softly with that disquieting gleam in his eyes that makes her toes curl and her breath quicken.

"Repirsals is a big word for you Reikhard." She replies without thinking, her tongue clucking against the roof of her mouth as she grins wickedly, then instantly realizes what she says and looks at him, cheeks flushed pink with slight shame and a little embarassment. There's a familar look that flashes in his pretty eyes, the one that he gets right before she's bent over whatever table is nearest, but it's gone as soon as it appears, and he's just staring at her, and she knows he's waiting for an answer.

“No-o,” she says hesitantly and fuck, she still doesn’t really know the answer to that one. Does she, or doesn’t she? Only thing she’s sure about is that she likes what follows, when she’s mewling and crying and seeing stars because he’s fucked her into heaven and back.

“No? You don’t sound too sure about that,” he comments. A brisk slap lands on her ass. “As it happens, I do plan to thrash you soundly tonight..” While she’s still gaping at the casual words that seem just a little bit fucking extreme, he nods towards a wooden chest over by the wall. “Go and *fetch* what I’ll need, please.”

“Master...”

He turns away. “I really don’t think I should be made to repeat myself, do you?” he asks the air.

She rolls her eyes and walks slowly to the chest, peeking at him to see if he’s smiling, and giving him a cold look when she sees he’s absorbed in cracking cubes into a crystal glass, slicing a lime so juicy sweet when he licks his fingers clean he smiles instead of wincing, and generally looking like a man with nothing on his mind but mixing a drink.

Muttering to herself about people who can’t take a joke, she kneels and lifts up the lid, wondering what the hell he’s planning to use on her defenceless ass. It’s full of boxes, dusty and battered through use and she sighs and lifts them out until the chest is empty, without finding anything but more jigsaws than Toys R Us have.

“Uh, Reikhard, I can’t find – whatever it was you wanted,” she calls.

He cat foots up behind her and pushes one of the boxes with a bare foot. “That one. Unless you really want to tackle the Matterhorn at sunset. Looks a bit tricky to me; too much snow.”

“Scrabble?” She picks up the jigsaws and games invented when a computer was a man who counted stuff, and packs them away. “You want to play Scrabble?” She’s trying to guess what he’s got in mind ‘cause he can’t just want to rack up a high score and gloat. Way too simple...

Then again with his ego..

“Do you know how to play?” he asks. “The rules are very easy.”

She drops the box on the table and sits down opposite him. “I’ve played it before,” she says unenthusiastically.

Yeah, she’s played it. Played it until that memorable afternoon when Raivyn – who considering, really should’ve been able to spell ‘whore’- shoved the ‘X’ so far up Harlequins nose when she challenged her that it had to get removed with forceps and somehow it never got put back in the box after that...

“Kitten, You might sound a little less like a woman who sees defeat staring her in the face,” he says jovially, practically rubbing his hands together as he sets up the board. There’s a dictionary tucked inside the box and he pats it. “We’ll be a little limited when it comes to challenges, as this is hardly the O.E.D, but I promise you I won’t play any word that’s not allowed.”

Well, isn’t he so fucking generous? She bares her teeth at him in a snarl and gives the dark green cloth bag a vicious shake. “If it’s not in that, Reik,” she says firmly, pointing to the dictionary, “it doesn’t get on that." She taps her finger against the checkered board and meets Reikhards’s narrowed eyes without flinching. “Oh, look,” she says, delving into the bag. “I got an ‘A’. Looks like I’ll be going first.”

As Reikhard pulls a lousy ‘T’, turns out she’s right.

It’s all going along fairly well for a bit. Reikhard chortles like he’s won the lottery when he gets to play ‘jack’ with the ‘J’ on a triple letter and she’s stuck with a rack of one pointers that means she’s trailing by thirty odd points. Part of the problem is that she can’t concentrate because she’s waiting for the fucking twist.

“So what’s it gonna be, Reikhard?” she says casually, running her foot up his leg and giving him an innocent look. “A spank for every point I’m behind when we’re done?”

“I beg your pardon?” he says, barely lifting his head as he frowns at the rack of letters and rearranges them solemnly. “What did you –oh! Don’t be ridiculous; it could be as many as a hundred.” He gives her an indulgent twinkle and a nasty smirk before returning to contemplate the ivory squares that are so fucking fascinating he can’t spare her a kiss. “My hand would get dreadfully sore... ah, now how about that?”

He places his letters in one of those clever, make three words by shoving letters in the middle and tying up the whole fucking corner of the board, ways and adds up his score in a mumble he makes sure is loud enough to be annoying and inescapable. “Twenty-three, oops, forgot the ‘D’’s on a double letter... twenty-five. Not bad.”

He beams, pulls out some replacement letters, and she watches his smile dim a bit. It’s the faintest trace of blood in the water and she takes a long, reflective sip of her shake and gets in the game for the first time.

“Want to make this interesting, Sir?” she coos. “Little bet, prize for the winner, that sort of thing?”

He’s not so rapt in contemplation of the board that he lets that one slide by. “And just what did you have in mind, Omega?”

She’s got just the thing. “If I win,” she says slowly, watching his face, “I get an ‘I get to cum’ card.”

Reikhard looks up at her like he noticed she was there for the first time since the game-board had been set down, then he leans back and taps his fingers against each other, waiting in silence for her to carry on. She rolls her eyes at his posture. “Work it out, Reik; all those times I’m begging to cum and you’ve tied a knot in it or something and figure you can wait all night...”

“Omega!” he says, spluttering with outrage. “That’s hardly a –”

“Well, just once, I’ll get to tell you to stop making me wait and you’ll have to listen,” she says, getting dreamy-eyed just thinking about it. “Have to make me cum in, oh, I guess you’ve got a minute. Maybe two. I’ll be so ready to cum by the time I use it, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Out of the question,” Reikhard says flatly. Big freakin' surprise.

She smiles and sets the trap. “So you think you’re going to lose, then?”

She can practically see the wheels turning as he works it out and she knows she’s won. Different game, but look at that, Reikhard is checkmated, by his own damn ego and his desperate need to protect it.

“Fine.” Sucker. “And if I win –” He pauses to think about it and she keeps a calm smile pinned to her face, “You’ll have to go without watching television for the next three months...and that includes your DVD collection...oh and playing video games”

What? Wait...what? Is he serious? She raises her eyes to meet his, all wide eyed and surprised. How..How could she live without knowing what's going on with Dexter, or...or reliving moments with Angel and Buffy? That alone is just not even right but the video games? She just got the new pokemon game and she hasn't even gotten to the fifth gym leader yet! She has to evolve her pikachu still! HE'S SO CLOSE...and there are times when clinging to that DS is the only thing that keeps her sane on nights when he's placed her in the bed-side cage for the night. It's not even fucking fair, it's just down right evil. He’s got to be kidding her!

“Or we can just make this a friendly game,” he says condescendingly, patting her hand.

“Too late, Reik,” she says, snatching her hand away so fast she's surprised it didn't leave burn marks. “Stakes accepted.” The jumble of letters in front of her suddenly provide inspiration and she reaches out a trembling hand and adds ‘acomb’ to ‘cat’ – he’d barely been able to hold back a smile when she posted that earlier – and snags a triple word score and a handy 57 points.

Game on, Reikhard. Game fucking on.

When she pulls out a ‘U’, ‘Q’ and ‘Z’ a few minutes later she nearly cums right there.

It takes her twenty minutes to win and she’s really fucking gracious in victory –

"It’s only sixty-three points, Reikhard; that’s, like, so close. Practically a tie..." and he’s a total gentleman about it, giving her a tight, congratulatory smile and tidying the board away while she mixes herself a victory drink... but she’s waiting for him to do something to even the score and expecting it to be pretty fiendish.

Instead he walks over to her and hands her a sheet of paper. On it he’s written her an I.O.U for an instant orgasm. She touches her fingers to it and looks up at him and even though, yeah, he’d been a smug bastard, she loves him too much not to soothe his ruffled feathers and she says softly, "Reikhard, did you let me win? ‘Cause, swear to God, that was just so freaky...”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t do that. Ever.” The frown deepens. “Omega, though it's an incredibly shocking thing to say; you won fair and square and I’m very proud of you.” He gives her a swift kiss. “There. Now, what would you like to do for the rest of the evening?”

She folds the note and tucks it into his shirt pocket. “Don’t know. But you’ve got two minutes to make me cum, Reik.”

****

He hesitates for just a second and she's about to call him on it. In fact, she's totally about to call him on it when he gently seizes her wrists and strokes his thumbs over her pulse points, which immediately start thundering away like the hounds of hell are after her.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks carefully. And it's the same question he kept asking her when they started playing Scrabble and she was putting down her 'cats' and 'pins' in all the wrong places so he could blaze his way to a triple word score on the next go.

"Am I sure that I want to cum in the next two minutes?" she splutters incredulously but she can't help the note of uncertainty that's creeping into her voice, and she shakes free of his stroking thumbs so she can wind her arms round his neck and smoosh her breasts against his chest. "Sounds like all kinds of fun to me, Reikhard."

He nods his head in deference to the fact that she owns his ass for the next 120 seconds and kisses the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear, which makes her shiver like she's cold. "Fine" he murmurs, sliding his hands down to cup her ass. "I just thought that you'd prefer *not* to fritter away such a rare opportunity.."

She's still not sure how or why he's trying to call her bluff and for a moment she's distracted by his fingers smoothing down the skirt of her dress, then rucking it up on the journey back home. "I'll let you have an extra minute on the clock if you think you need it," she offers with a smug, little smirk, squirming against the start of a really promising erection as the tips of his fingers tickle the backs of her thighs.

He's planting a tiny line of butterfly sweet kisses across her jaw line. "It's your choice, Omega, but I would have thought you'd have preferred to play your card when you really need it."

"Like when?"

"Oh, like after I've spanked your ass until it's a nice shade of deep pink," he drawls, all honey and treacle and other sticky things, his nails lightly scratching her smooth skin. "Then fucked you with my fingers and my tongue and my cock for an hour or so and still not let you cum but if you're adamant that you want your orgasm in the next three minutes, I'm sure I can come up with something."

There isn't a fucking reason on earth that she should still be in his arms, especially as she's pouting and huffing and yanking the paper back out of his pocket, "You're such a bastard sometimes Reikhard!"

He gives her a completely evil grin and actually has the nerve to pinch her ass. "I'm well aware of that, Omega, but it seems to get you awfully hot and bothered so I forbear."

He kisses her lips even if they are still closed in her annoyence and clinked his glass against hers before making his way to the bedroom...

She huffs once more, standing her ground before sighing and walking after him into the bedroom.

"M-Master?" She calls out.

He really was such a bastard.

He hadn’t noticed yet.

At least – she didn’t think he’d noticed yet.

He hadn’t said anything anyway. If he hadn’t said anything, then that was good. It meant he didn’t care even if he had noticed.

Well. Maybe that wasn’t so good.

But better all the same. Better that he didn’t see her like this.

Omega kept up a reasonable pretence in that she made sure he was fed, massaged, bathed and clothed. She even managed to summon up a smile or two when she was around him, although she knew they were shallow and paltry shadows of their usual selves.

But had he been paying attention he would’ve noticed her curious listlessness, the frequent tremble of her chin and the glimmer in her eyes. How her voice had lost its lilting edge.

But mostly he seemed content to go about his pursuits by himself, utterly focused on the task at hand – as he always was whenever his plans were especially brilliant.

She didn’t even mind that he seemed to have no real use for her right then. That’s how she knew – even more so than the vague knot of nausea that was ever present in her stomach – that this was more than just a case of the dramatics, as Splain called it.

It was kinda scary, really, to feel like that. Well, not so much to feel like that, but for it to be about anything other than Reikhard. It had seemed for a while there she had entered a magical realm where nothing could touch her or hurt her, except him – and he always made it up to her, it was beautiful.

Besides, all that blistering pain just made the good times shine brighter. Being tossed violently between despondency and elation was a heady drug and she was all too happily addicted. A powerful elixir that made her heart beat faster, her blood beat harder and set her soul on fire, reminding her that she was alive and she was in love and that love was simply....everything.

And so all was as it should be.

But this. This was all new. She didn’t have any assurances of how it would end, or even how it could end. Maybe it couldn’t and that was a terrifying thought. Maybe she would be stuck with this wretched feeling forever, frozen in the moment she had opened up the paper and happened across the news – like a punch to her gut that would leave her gasping for breath always.

Reikhard always made everything better. That she could always count on. But not only did this have nothing to do with him – she could never tell him. It would be an insult. An affront to the love they shared. A betrayal. As though he wasn’t all and everything and the only thing she really needed to worry about.

How could he ever make this better?

After all the effort he’d gone through to set her free from stress and worry. She was selfish, horribly, thoughtlessly selfish, she knew.

Yet she just couldn’t drive these feelings away.

She tried to sleep as much as she could, to avoid having to think about it all. She kept hoping every time she woke up the anguish would’ve lifted, dispersed and evaporated as though it had never been there at all, leaving her light and free as always. Every time she opened her eyes there was a moment of blankness, where she would blink dazedly at her surroundings, slowly remembering what the world was and that she was alive in it.

Then she would remember and that awful feeling would descend within her once more.

It wasn’t a sharp and wrenching pain, fierce and bright as splintered bone that left her trying to escape from herself. It was simply a constant aching hollow as though she’d been scooped out and left to drain of whatever was left. It never left her and it never eased, but persisted as relentless as a parasite that had lodged within her, sucking her dry.

She paced, hands fisted by her sides, breathing shallow and strained, her whole body coiled tight as though ready to spring but she couldn’t release. She couldn’t.

“Get a hold of yourself, cookie,” she hissed through gritted teeth to her reflection, before her expression wavered and she found herself pleading, her voice trembling: “Please girl, please. Please keep it together. Please. Please.”

She would not let herself cry. The tears hovered but she dashed them away before they could fall and held her breath until they passed. She caught glimpses of herself and turned away in shame. She looked as though she were being drained, growing thinner and more drawn, the sparkling light in her eyes diminished and her smile quavered on her mouth.

She avoided him devoutly. If she heard him approach, she would quietly pad away, disappearing into another dark corner of the apartment. If he barged into the room, muttering and fixated on some odd pursuit, she’d huddle quietly until he left. She strove to anticipate his needs and see that they were met before he could demand them, quickly slinking away once they were fulfilled. In this mood, he would not sleep but she avoided their bed anyway. Just in case.

If he got too close, he would see. And she couldn’t let that happen.

As uncharacteristic as her behaviour was, he remained oblivious. She knew that was a good thing. She was glad, really. His anger, if he noticed, would be terrible. But his disappointment would be worse.

The pain was like a lump in her throat that she could not swallow. She quivered beneath the stress of it and battled its insistence. But still it did not abate and she thought finally she was going to split.

She knew finally she had to leave, had to break out into the night and go running the streets until she’d finally shed her sorrow.

She shifted frenetically through the apartment, face contorted and her teeth bared as she strained against the emotion that threatened to consume her whole.

Then his voice, spoken softly through the darkness, brought her up short:

“Omega, what’s wrong?”

Slowly, she turned to face him where he leaned against a wall in the corner of the room, one leg crossed easily over the other, hands in pockets, surveying her with a still and curious expression.

She breathed in, swallowed, finally trusted herself to speak: “N-nothing’s wrong, Master,” her voice hitched and she clenched her fists by her side, sucking her lower lip into her mouth and staring at him with wide, unconvincing eyes.

Reikhard raised an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been a terrible bore this week.”

She gulped. Felt her chin begin to wobble. But she held on. “I’m sorry. I thought you were busy.”

His eyes widened and he shifted off the wall, standing up straight. “But I have been busy. Very busy. And you’ve been no help at all. Pacing around, sulking, snivelling and brooding. You haven’t even managed a smile to help inspire my work.”

She let her head droop. Inside the ache was becoming a throb. Her selfish misery had overshadowed his needs. She’d let him down. The one thing she’d always strived never to do and now she had done it because she’d been too wrapped up in her own little corner of his world to pay attention to the rest. She was a miserable failure.

Yet, she just couldn’t stop feeling. A part of her wanted him to understand that, too.

“I – I’ve tried,” she heard herself say, voice quietly entreating. “It’s just – “ and then her eyes brimmed with tears and she shut them swiftly, struggling against the sudden rise of her heartbeat.

She heard the slither of fabric as he shifted across the room, opened her eyes again to see him folding his long body down into his armchair, hands on either arm rest, legs spread and head tilted back, regarding her from narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she choked and realised she was wringing her hands anxiously in front of her.

He was silent a moment, his eyes hard upon her and then he spoke: “You know what adds insult to injury, kitten? I know this little depression of yours is nothing to do with me. No, I’ve been a perfect angel to you lately,” his words were spoken without the same theatrical nuance he usually placed upon everything he said. Instead they were quiet and restrained, brimming with menace. Fear spiked out from her gut like slivers of ice. “So it begs the question of what else could possibly be so important that it deserves so much focus.”

He paused again and the silence between them grew into a buzz, fraught with tension.

Again he quirked a brow. “Care to share?”

She hesitated, hands now twisted behind her back, squirming where she stood as his searching eyes held her in thrall. Then she shook her head. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing. I just – I just – “ and then she was blinking away tears again, suddenly helpless against the tide of overwhelming grief that rose within her.

His expression abruptly shifted to one of contrived concern and he pouted at her, brows raised.

“Aw, kitten. Poor baby!”

She shuddered beneath the caressing sound of his voice, made all the more terrified by the coddling in his tone.

“Why don’t you come over here and sit on Master's knee?” He patted his lap and a mean little smile flickered across his face.

She went. She knew she had no choice and as frightened as she was, she wanted to go as well.

He pulled her onto his lap while she trembled, struggling hard against breaking down, both his arms trapping her tight against him. She realised she’d not been so close to him all week and suddenly the smell and feel of him against her was comforting and she did not resist when he placed a firm hand on her cheek and eased her head down onto his shoulder.

“Now,” his voice vibrated through her as she curled her fingers around his coat lapels. “Why don’t you tell me all about what’s upset my little girl?”

The desire to give in then was overwhelming. The feeling of safety in his arms was a powerful one and she wanted nothing more than to succumb.

She clung tight to his lapels and turned her face into his neck.

“I got some bad news, Master,” her voice was small and babyish and he squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“Tsk tsk,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. “Who’s dared to give my kitty bad news?”

She gnawed on her lip, shifted closer against him.

“I saw it in the paper. In the – in the Obituaries,” and she remembers in a sudden brilliant flash of newsprint, growing translucent beneath the drip of her soda as she had read the words in shock.

He tucked a hand beneath her chin, lifted her face to his, staring intently into her eyes.

“What did you see in the paper, Omega?”

Her gaze held by his like that and she couldn’t even shut her eyes to escape him. He may as well have tied her down and she hiccoughed and stammered over her answer, staring at him the whole time.

“M-my Gra-grandmother. She ne-never loved me. She never ca-cared. I never – never had a ch-chance with her. And now – and now – “ her breath hitched and her chest heaved as she almost erupted with emotion. “ – she’s – she’s dead!” She hiccoughed again with the effort to swallow her tears and she gazed at him hopelessly, her chin wobbling.

His lip lifted in a small sneer and he cocked his head, staring at her with outright disbelief. “Is that all?” he snapped and she lifted the back of her hand to her mouth, nodding tearfully. “That’s ridiculous.”

She knew that it was. She knew it. Yet that didn’t curb the relentless tidal wave of remorse and loss that pounded within her then with creasing urgency.

“I just – “ she stammered, trying to make him understand. “I just – she was...family.. I just – she never cared – about me – I just always ho – hoped – “

His hand was on the back of her neck then and she fell immediately silent, gazing at him with a glazed expression, lips slack and wet.

“I’m the only one that should matter, Omega.” His voice was dark, his teeth gritted and fear made her quake.

“I – I know – “ she stammered but he continued, speaking over her.

“You know I hate it when you’re unhappy,”

“I know,” she sniffled.

“You know I want to see you smile.”

She shut her eyes and pressed her lips together, overwhelmed by the knowledge of her failure, battling the unforgiving reality of her grief. “I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered.

“Kitten, I want you to stop caring about this,” Reikhard commanded, squeezing his hand harder on her neck.

“I’ve tried,” she whimpered. She really had, couldn’t he believe that?

“Not hard enough,” his voice was cruel in its finality. “I have important work to do. Your moping is highly distracting. Do you understand?”

Her chin wobbled as she opened her eyes, her shoulders heaving upwards with suppressed emotion. “Y-yes Sir, I understand, but – but I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he leant into her face and spoke hard. “I’m a very busy man and I rely on you to take care of the trivialities. Are you telling me that this ridiculousness is more important to you than me?” He knew how that would hurt her and she heard its deliberateness and her eyes welled with tears.

“Never, s-sir, never. But it – it – “

“No buts, Omega. You need to sort out your priorities.”

She felt lashed beneath the coldness of his tongue, how utterly empty it was of sympathy or compassion.

“You’re my number one, Master, I swear it. I swear it,” she babbled entreatingly, gripping his lapels tight with trembling hands. “It just hurts so much – “ her voice cracked and she hunched over on his lap.

He let go her neck and pushed her from him so that she tumbled to the carpet, quaking with mindless grief. He rose to his feet and towered above her, glowering furiously.

“How dare you insult me like this,” he seethed at her.

“I don’t mean to insult you!” she wailed and he hunched over her with clawed hands so that she quailed in fear. “But I can’t help it. I just can’t help it.”

“That’s because you’re pathetic,” he spat at her and she quivered and nodded, her whole body shaking like a dam about to burst. “Pathetic and hopeless, to mourn a woman who never gave you anything when the person who’s given you everything is right here in front of you.”

He was pushing her, pushing her so hard, so unkindly and she was in desperate turmoil.

“So stop it, Omega. Stop it right now. Stop. It.”

Snared between her driving desire to please her Master and the echoing loss of the last remnant of her former life, she could do nothing now but push back:

“I can’t!” she screamed. “I CAN’T!”

The first blow set awful music ringing in her ears.

She had no time to react and then he was upon her, his fists a blur as they rose and fell again and again, connecting brutally with her face and head, her body and limbs. She heard herself shrieking as each blow landed, finally giving voice to the pain that had festered within her all that week.

He was silent and relentless in his punishment, teeth gritted and eyes gleaming bright as he beat her as cruelly as he ever had. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, unresisting against the assault, concertedly fighting the instinct to lift her arms up and cover her face, even rising up to meet the blows.

Hot tears poured down her cheeks, blistering her skin and combining with blood. Her chest felt as though it might explode from the pressure of her screams.

Each punch and kick sent shocking new pains erupting up through her body, each one stifling out the other, overcoming it until she was nothing but a resounding mess of indecipherable agony. Her muscles were battered, cringing beneath the abuse, her skin bloomed red and quickly began to blacken.

She choked on her screams as a kick to the ribs knocked the breath from her, sent her head reeling as though it might spin off, and then the world around her was a tremendous blur and she could no longer even see where the blows were coming from, only feel them in their endless reverberation.

Amidst all that pain, something broke and poured out. Beneath the ache she felt a curious beauty well, a sudden and marvellous sense of freedom. For a long while she floated as he beat her, her only motion the jerk of her body in response to each kick or punch, quietly receiving each one, savouring the pain as she became unable to tell where it ended and she began, until they were one. She gasped in delight and began to softly laugh beneath the battering, her voice high and thin, the wheezing peals of her laughter utterly chilling.

Then he stopped.

She lay on the rug, half-curled onto her side, tears still streaming down her cheeks and dripping between her lips as she laughed, the shake of her body causing new tremors of pain to course through her.

It was wonderful.

A moment later and his hand was in her hair, not rough but not gentle either, smoothing down her cheek, over her shoulder and around her back, the fingers digging into her flesh, massaging her abused body. He lifted his hand and repeated the motion and beneath the firm stroking she stilled, and became quiet.

Relief slowly washed through her, spilling gently to every inch of her body, filling her up. As he knelt down and stroked her into calm, the awful and relentless ache that had devoured her from within for so many days was washed cleanly away. All that remained was the slow shuddering of her breath, the thunderous agony gripping her battered body and a quietly perfect sense of peace.

She let her lips part, tasted blood, then let out a slow, shaky breath as he entwined a hand into her hair and dragged her into a sitting position, forcing her to look up at him as he stood upright once more, looming over her like a god. The sting of his hand knotted in her hair harmonised with the aches throbbing across her flesh and she made no more resistance than a tiny sound that made him smile as he gazed upon her with a look in his eyes that was as close to compassion as he could ever get.

“Can you now?” he asked her and it was suddenly easy to smile, though it caused fresh waves of pain across her battered face.

She blinked her swollen eyes at him and nodded, the bruised limpness of her body a lovely thing.

“Good,” he said, then slapped her cheek sharp with his free hand. She shut her eyes as the sting blossomed, rushing out across her face.

“Thank you, Master,” she whispered and the only passion in her voice was now for him.

His smile was suddenly bright and pleased and then he was bending at the waist, lowering his perfect, angular face to hers, capturing her bloodied mouth in a kiss that filled her with a lovely rolling warmth. He lingered there a moment, then lapped the blood gently from her mouth.

“Nobody hurts my kitten but me,” he informed her, straightening up once more and petting her firmly on the head. She beamed up at him, adoring him more absolutely in that moment than she could ever remember, overwhelmed with gratitude. “If your grandmother weren’t already dead, I’d kill her.”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

She knew she shouldn't but she just couldn't help herself.

Reikhard was dozing on the couch, his long legs stretched out onto the table in front of him, an old timey movie flickering quietly on the television screen. His head was lolling against the back of the couch, exposing his long neck and in this attitude of repose his face seemed strangely composed - gentle even. His mouth was soft and slack, and a long lock of orange hair tumbled down over his forehead. His soft long rabbit ears twitching slightly in his sleep.

It made her heart melt.

She wanted to curl her fingers in that hair, lay delicate kisses over his eyelids, stroke his cheeks and rub her nose against his. All innocent and all so lovely and never indulged in enough that anyone of them would be a treat but she couldn't be satisfied with that, oh no, not little Omega.

No, where her eyes were drawn now, what tugged hard at a spot much lower down than her heart, what made her fingers twitch and her tongue dart out to flick against her muzzle, was where the folds of his black jeans stretched over his lap. One of his legs was crooked up a little higher than the other, his ankles crossed. It pulled the fabric taut, hinted at what lay below and she'd been staring at him - at his crotch - for a full twenty minutes, getting more and more squirmy by the minute.

He won't even know, she thought to herself, I just want to touch it. Just a little.

The thought had her leaping up from the corner of the room, using her cat like reflexes to silently move across the plush carpet. She didn't dare sit down on the couch beside him, fearing the weight of her body shifting the cushions would wake him and the moment would be lost. Instead she knelt beside him, holding her breath, her every movement slow and careful.

This close she could smell his soap and the leather of his black trench coat and she breathed it in deeply, and sighed, feeling a silly sort of bliss well up. This close she could see the dip where his thighs met, the tell-tale outline of denim clinging to that precious thing he hid so often and so cruelly from her.

She resisted the urge to bury her face in his lap.

She just wanted to touch it. Just a little. She tilted her head to the side and examined the fly. The buttons were undone, it gaped a little. She could just make out a small bare section of his pelvis. God. Her throat got dry and she swallowed hard. There was a tightening sensation between her legs. She could slip her hand in, if she was very, very careful. She could pull it out and look at it. She even - God - she might even be able to - taste it. Although she knew only very, very good girls get that sort of treat, he'd jeered at her a few times, but she knew he liked it when she did it. She knew because - and she felt blood spring to her cheeks, her muzzle reddening from her blush - because he wouldn't let her stop until he'd finished.

Maybe if she started it, he would wake up feeling good and let her finish. Maybe he wouldn't scream at her and punish her.

Maybe.

Her heart was thudding as she lifted a hand and lowered it so slowly and so softly towards his lap. She had to breath carefully through her mouth because she was becoming a little breathless, a little giddy with excitement and danger and anticipation...God touching him, putting her hands on him, feeling him... her other hand drifted down between her legs and she stroked herself teasingly, through the sheer fabric of her nightdress. Her lower lips were swollen and she imagined it was his hand touching her, his long, strong hand. He did it so well, he always seemed to know when she needed it rough and hard or gentle and soft and did exactly the opposite so that she screamed in mingled pain and frustration and ecstasy, he laughing and teasing all the while.

Her fingertips brushed the black denim and her pussy twitched. Yes, yes, yes, she could feel it. Soft right now of course, but long anyway. She felt a goofy smile travel up her face as she ran a finger up its length; it was folded upwards to lie against his hip. When it was hard she couldn't wish for anything bigger, anything thicker, anything more capable of filling her up just right. Just the way she needed to be. Could she make it hard?

Her finger travelled all the way up its head and she felt it twitch. She could. She could, most definitely. She would.

Hardly daring to believe her boldness, moving quickly before she could lose courage and back away, she slipped careful fingertips into the fly, still trying oh so hard not to move too suddenly, to pull, to drag. It seemed her hand crawled across empty space, millimetres above his pelvis in search of what she sought, for an eternity, her heartbeat crazily loud in her ears. Then finally her fingers grazed it and she had to swallow the squeak that nearly burst out of her mouth, almost choked.

His citris colored fur was satiny soft and smooth and she swooned to think of how it looked all bare to her greedy eyes. God, she'd barely been able to commit it to memory, so little she'd seen it. Time, time was all it was going to take. It had been happening a little more regularly. She could wait. She'd wait forever for her Master. It was worth the wait. But she hoped she wouldn’t have to...

Yes, it was hardening. She could feel it as her fingers glided upwards, over its smoothness. Hardening and thickening. God she wanted to taste it, she wanted it in her mouth, she wanted to feel it harden between her lips.

The hand on her collar ripping her backwards was so sudden she shrieked. She was slapped, no not slapped, belted with the back side of his gloved hand, so hard it sent her spinning backwards, her jaw ringing with pain and stars shooting before her eyes.

Then she was wrenched upwards again, and tossed onto the couch where she gasped and gasped again, the second time at the ferocity of the pain in her jaw.

Then Reikhard was there, a knee pressed against her stomach, one hand wrenching her head back. He was grinning in such a way she almost wet herself, his eyes glittering nastily as he looked down at her.

"Well, well, well," he sneered. "Look who's going for a midnight dip in the cookie jar. And after I‘ve warned you about touching what doesn‘t belong to you. Tsk, tsk, tsk Omega"

"I'm sorry sir," she said desperately, voice breaking in her fear.

He growled, his eyes darkening.

"That's just bad manners Omega. I think someone needs to be taught a lesson... Don't you?"

Before she could answer his question or even begin to comprehend it, His hand was at the back of her head, his fingers grabbing at one of her black kitty ears and yanked as hard as he could, yanking her head up to stare into his eyes. She saw stars before she saw his sharpened eyes, leering down into hers..She whimpered and felt the side of her head pulsate gently from the constant tugging of her ear, keeping her from moving from where he wanted her to be.

"Do you know what happens to little kitties who don't know how to behave themselves?" He questioned his pet. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she couldn't say if it was from my fear, or guilt, the pain in the side of her head. She swallowed slowly, staring up at him, unable to form thoughts much less words. He suddenly reached behind him and all Omega saw was a flash of silver before the nozzle of a colt .38 super was pressed to her forehead. He yanked on the back of her head, mouth forming into an evil sneer. "I asked you a fucking question."

"They get punished?" She managed to squeak out, eyes wide as they stared at the gun she wasn't aware he had in his possession. Maybe if she answered correctly, he'd go easy on her.

His brow grew heavier, his smile wider. "Indeed they do, my little kitten. And as I seem to recall, the very best lessons are learned when the punishment fits the crime."

He abruptly wrenched her night gown up off of her body, she was naked beneath it. The hand that held the gun fell to his side as he pushed her knees apart, exposing her pussy to his gaze and she felt a flood of humiliation, shameful and thrilling, wash through her.

He ran a finger up her cleft and she shuddered; the feeling of his flesh on hers was almost too erotic to bear. The punishment should fit the crime... oh if only he'd keep rubbing her like that. her clit was tingling beneath the weight of his gaze alone, it would take barely a few strokes for her to cum and right then even with the throbbing pain in the side of her head and the frantic beat of her terrified heart, she suddenly wanted to cum and wanted him to watch her while she did. Yes, even wanted him to laugh at her for it. She ground her hips forward, unable to help a little gasp as Reikhard ran his fingers back down, probing gently at her entrance. He tsk'd, and shook his head. She was soaking wet, out of her mind with desire for him.

"You're a greedy little kitten." He declared. "Far too spoiled it seems. Far too...over-indulged."

"No," she whimpered, no he really hadn't been! She hadn't been getting enough! She could never have enough of him.

She realised he was kneeling on the floor beside her, as she had been only a short while before. He was staring up at her, his eyes lit with a strange glow as he looked from her face to the place between her legs, both of them hungry for him. She let the foot closest to him move, slide against his hip and crotch and her heart leapt and her pussy clenched. God he was so hard, she'd done it, but he didn't take too kindly to that and lifted the gun to her head again. She gasped and pushed back against the table, surely this wasn't worth killing her over, surely this wasn't the worst thing she had done - But he was leering at her now, enjoying her fear, His free hand keeping one her knees pushed wide apart, keeping her exposed.

"Ya know, I've been thinking Omega, The only way I'm gonna be able to sate that obvious appetite of yours is to give you something that’s gonna last a bit longer. Something with reeeeeal staying power," and suddenly the butt of the gun was pressed into her stomach and then he was drawing it down, past her hips and onto her groin.

She panicked, thrust her hips up but he shoved her back down with one hand hard around her throat, squeezing until she gagged and her vision began to spot out, the muzzle of the gun still cold against her pelvis.

"But babe," He whispered, mocking her, "I was under the assumption you liked it hard and dangerous. If you didn't, you would have screamed by now."

He continued to squeeze on her throat, holding her still and choking, as the gun trailed ever lower, its hard tip scraping against her pussy lips.

Reikhard leaned over to her, his piercing eyes dark with vicious humour, and whispered: "I can assure you this fellow doesn't shoot blanks. Just what you need to fill up on." His breath was hot against her cheek and his lips grazed it just slightly and in spite of herself she savoured the sensation and felt her nipples harden in response.

Then it was there. Against her opening, hard, harder than any cock she had ever known. Completely inflexible. Cool, but steadily warming from her flesh. He teased her a little at first, nudging the end of it in and out softly, his smile lurid in the corner of her terrified gaze and then he pushed it forward and the whole damn thing slid in.

His grip on her throat had loosened a little and she gasped as the whole barrel of the gun entered her, stretching her wide, gliding in easily due to my former state of arousal. Had he cocked it? God, she couldn't remember. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She was being fucked by a gun!

He started off slow at first, gazing at her with a vicious smile, an expression of savage delight lighting up the face that not so long before had seem so relaxed and gentle. She kept still, terrified as she felt that long tube of deadly metal slide in and out of her, praying, hoping, wishing fervently his finger wouldn't slip, that he wouldn't get carried away..

And it didn't feel bad. It wasn't wonderful, but it was smooth and so hard and it was his hand controlling it after all. An image leapt to her mind, unbidden, of his gloved hand tight and strong around the gun, sliding it in and out of her pussy and she felt my muscles clench down hard on the barrel, so hard he noticed the resistance as he pulled it out and one eyebrow shot up and he looked enquiringly between her legs, something slightly hungry sharpening his face. Omega fought her grin.

And he began to go harder and faster and she was overwhelmed entirely by what they were doing. God, he was fucking her with a gun - never in all her life had she imagined she would ever - but who would ever - except him - and who could it ever make it sexy like this except him - God. It did feel good. Not just that long barrel of metal thrusting in and out of her, but that he was doing it to her and that she was letting him, or was helpless, or both or whatever and who cared except that she was doing it for him and that was really the only thing that mattered. For Him. Everything for Him.

Without even realising it she had begun thrusting back against the gun as he fucked her with it and his eyes were round and bright, feasting on her as he let go of her throat and watched her get into it, riding the deadly weapon like it was his hand, or his cock. With her throat free and air coming easily into her lungs again, blissful little moans and mews began rising up out of her mouth, growing increasingly louder and longer the harder he went. He yanked on her ear again with his free hand again and bit her jaw. Her pussy clenched again.

Her clit was aching to be touched, she could feel it tingling, knew it must be hard and swollen and she wanted him to touch it, stroke it, squeeze it, but also knew it would all be over too quickly then and she didn't want this to stop just yet. Still, it was demanding attention, furious for it. she lifted her paws to her breasts instead, pushing her shirt up and running her fingers over her hardened nipples, feeling them send jolts of pleasure coursing through her.

Reikhard was breathing harder, his teeth bared, his gaze still intent on her face and she could feel herself being devoured whole by it. Every so often he dropped his eyes to her crotch to watch himself fuck her with the gun, a low rumbling growl in his throat. He let go of my ear, and fumbled at the fly of his pants. A moment later his cock was in his hands, hard and tinged red at the tip and he was jerking on it fast and furious.

Oh God, He's jacking off over this, over her, over what she's doing for him, she thought deliriously and felt herself perilously close to the edge. Her moans hissed higher and she felt desperation as she teetered at the point between giving in to ecstasy or holding back.

It was decided for her when, not slowing his gun thrusting or masturbation in the slightest, Reikhard knelt down to one knee and flickered his tongue twice against her clit. It was all she needed. She tipped over the edge with a scream as waves of pleasure thundered through her, her muscles contracting hard around the gun and she heard Reikhard snarl again and before she even finishing cumming, he'd wrenched the gun painfully free and pushed her back against the couch, moving to crawl over her. He replaced the gun with himself, his cock filling her up completely and she came again, from the sheer delight of the feeling, of knowing he was there, of his hips between her thighs, of how full he made her feel and how complete.

He was vicious as he pounded into her, grunting a little, more vocal than he'd ever been before and she swooned and crooned, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. His eyes were frightening, staring at her with an intensity that threatened to consume me but she didn't look away, instead revelling in the feeling of being swallowed up by them.

Then he was shoving the gun in her mouth and she didn't hesitate, just started sucking, sucking her own juices off the barrel, sucking it like it was his cock and he could feel it. She wished he could, could feel his cock pounding hard into her pussy and his gun in her mouth. If his finger slipped now she'd be dead, her brains splattered against arm of the couch.

He pressed his nose against her cheek, his other hand gripping her hip so hard it was bruising already beneath her fur and sped up. It hurt, she thought a part of the gun might've scraped inside her and made her bleed, but it was a gorgeous, fantastic pain and she didn't want it to ever stop, didn't want him to ever stop fucking her. He was so hard and so big and so strong and knew, just knew how to make everything feel so damn good, knew how to make her his.

The gun was pumping against the back of her throat and that hurt too, it clanked against her teeth and her already aching jaw protested with a stab of pain but she couldn't stop. He bit her throat, grunted again then pulled the gun free out of her mouth, gripped her neck and kissed her brutally. If she could kiss him back, he would not let her, just forced her to take his mouth and tongue, to let him work her mouth whichever way he fancied.

And somehow he thrust even harder, his hand slipping further around her hip and under one buttock, lifting her off the couch as he bit down hard on the side of her muzzle and she felt his cock jerk and pump, emptying himself as deep inside her as he could get as he came. She tasted blood.

When he finished he blinked rapidly, seeming surprised and then swept a hand over his forehead, up through his hair.

Then he abruptly pulled out of her and stood, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, leaving her there on the couch, dazed with bliss, delirious with love.

"Spoiled." He muttered, walking away from her. "Any wonder... such a ... troublemaker."

She felt utterly spent, limp and weak as if she'd been drained completely dry. Gingerly, she closed my legs, relishing the ache in her thighs, the twinge of pain in her pussy that she was quickly associating with a really good fuck, and gazed after him as he wandered toward the bedroom. The high was already beginning to ebb the further away he got and she felt an aching little tug at my heart watching him go.

At the bedroom door he suddenly whirled around and yelled at her:

"Well? Are you coming?"

And it was sheer elation that gave her the strength to propel herself from the couch and limp-skip after him, ready to wrap her arms around him as they disappeared into the darkness of their bedroom..

The few days I get to spend with Reikhard fascinate me the most. With his citris colored fur, and kind eyes this rabbit looks almost harmless. His personality seems to draw in everyone around him, whether it's his voice or the way he approaches strangers as if long lost friends, it still remains a mystery even to me.

My eyes fall upon him in wonder more often than in anything else. He fascinates me. The way his dark eyes lock onto mine and search, as if he can read every dirty thing I've ever done...every dirty thing I've ever thought about doing. A smile plays on his lips as his eyes devour my soul. I feel nervous under his stare, I fidget much more when he's around.

Even before anything even remotely sexual or romantic started between this rabbit and I, I knew there was something there. I saw him for the dominate he was, and he looked upon me, eyed my collar and knew me as the submissive I am. I craved him even then, before I knew how to properly pronounce his last name. He circled me the day he met me, as if eyeing his prey, ready to hunt me down, pointing out my flaws, and making me more nervous than anything else. I trembled under his stare, I was so new to Northstar. I felt bare despite the pants and shirt I still wore at the time, when I was still feigning innocence.

Looking back on things now, I can tell you very clearly that it was I who made the decision in the end for what was to happen between Reikhard and myself. For what is continuing to unfold. I knew what he was, I knew what I was, and I knew that if we continued to talk, all other things aside, we were destined to intertwine.

He was destined to dominate me, I was destined to submit to him. Had I not wanted this, had I not desired this, and craved this, even needed this, I would have not talked to him again. I would have not brought friends to meet him, and on my second time talking to him I wouldn't have snapped to obey him when he told me to cuddle with him.

I would have walked away.

But....when I get something in my mind, it's very hard for me to get it out. I did not however, have any real concept on the things Reikhard would teach me, has still yet to teach me, but from day one I can tell you, that I was drawn to him like a magnet, and it's a dangerous addiction I have yet to even begin to try and fight.

His darkness envelopes me, and I close my eyes and fall into it effortlessly.

Labels: Reikhard