Beaten thief, Done-In Dough


Written by Septia.


“Mgnnyygnn… pphhf, haa…” Ophelia exclaimed through coerced groans. The puma's attempts at struggling was a light vibration against Tels’s maw where he stood, smothering her nipple with his lips. The life giving lactose coursing across his tongue in gentle jets with each suckle, claiming his sweet prize from the apprehended thief. 
	“Gng. Gha… S-stoooj ooo mf Grmmpp…” Her moans were interrupted by a steady rhythm. A haze lingered around them, tainting the air a peachy pink. Its source stemming from the bear's fingers, where the motions of his digits spun and coordinated the smog to his will, particularly… at the puma's rear. Ophelia's crimson fur blended into the alabaster shade of her underbelly, culminating right below her tail, where her pucker laid spread, gaping around the miasma made manifest – a girth of concentrated magic coalesced into a finger -Cpllthth- with the sole purpose of plunging into her plumbing -Crllwpts- to the squeals of polishing a window with a cut of steak -Schrlrlpsth-. As Tels’s magic delved deeper, there was a jolt of electrical resistance, a tangible energy that coursed through the thief's body and raised the pitch of her moans another octave. 
	“Mmmgf, mmm…” Tels mumbled around her tit, before drawing himself back with a pop and a stream of white milk down his cheek, “Mpgaa, haa… pathetic, in all honestly.” 
	Ophelia's teeth clutched shut, through the pink haze of enthralled aphrodesia was a spark of resistance, though Tels watched her eyes roll back as she approached a third orgasm. “Gmmgs mgahoooonngm mmmwrrmg…” the kitty purred, a single droop drippled from the matted surface of cloth wrapping up her crotch, a rorschach of moisture imprinted from from their session. 
	“The master of blades herself, Lady Ophelia, a reputation measured in nervous whispers…” he paused, before a flick of his fingers dug the smoke plug far into her rectum with a crunch of squashing pickles -Sckkvlrch-, “bested by a mere lightning incantation trap… I am offended by the lack of dignity you show me as a thief. To think I would not ensure the precious articles of my collection protected. Even a common burglar would check twice…” 
	Ophelia whimpered, teeth clattering, “S-scch-reew y-you.” 
	“Dear, I bestow that honour all to you,” he mused as he brought himself closer, driving his fingers deeper. The cloud of pink vapors growing purple in their density as they ploughed up her rear, collapsing the pucker inwards, a smoothened and flattened band on the cusp of her rectum done in by such a magnificent force… 
	“And like the good little kitty you are, you take that honour. Bold to steal from a bear, all those warnings since childhood taught you nothing?” he held her closer, smoke delving deep into her rear, her body plugged onto the ethereal energy. “Look at you. A rag doll full of moans and pants, and… a few more items of interest, perhaps?” The miasma met resistance, further into the rectum, smooth with a sleek, solid surface embedded in the lissome folds of her flesh. 
	“I believe you have something of mine.” With that, Tal snapped his fingers, and the smog from his right digits dissipated, swirling back into a glowing rune on his finger, and with it, the pole holding up Ophelia vanished. Her rear rippled as the gape contracted over the empty pit, jittering back, splayed and stiff like a stressed violin-string. The crimson fur superseded by the pale white encircling her pucker. The wrinkled skin remained folded into her rear under the pressure crawling through her depths, trudging onwards as the feline's tail stood on end. 
	Tels thread a finger through the window into Ophelia's bowels, listening to the trudge of a caterpillar wallowing through mud -Chsrllrpsth-. The obtrusion worked its way closer, and prodded his fingertips. 
	“So that is where you hid the lotunam pearl.” Tels mused as he flicked at the orb lodged up the feline's fanny, the prods thrusting deeper to trawl back with more force, Ophelia's suspended body shuddering form the attention as her vacant, panting face grimaced… 
	The bulb of pearlescent cobalt neared the precipice of Ophelia's body. The sides steamrolling her pucker flat to the wall of her hind, her crimson buns warping in a cradle over the treasure. Her pucker’s brim was cleaved a palm across with not but the sheen of the giant pearl… but it didn't stop there -Chhrrllth-. Her flesh creased in a rubbery tension as her cheeks spread further, Ophelia's dangling legs thrust apart along with her ass, opening a gorge in the canyon of skin wider than her head, all filled with the lotunam pearl. Ophelia's buttocks warped to a cradle around the marble. 


A rattle wound through Ophelia's legs, a squeal like dragging chalk made of jellyfish across a blackboard, twitching a pang as the pearl jutted out -Chllt-Ctjjlrtp-. Ophelia's brim flipped out with it, unfurled from a compressed canyon to a trumpet's bell clutching round the equator of the pearl. The rugouse membrane pulsing over the surface, gliding forward under its grasp, lubricated in a translucent bowel gel that let the behemoth sneak its way out of the pronounced pucker framing it. Taking on the guise of someone attempting to fit an apple in their maw, the broad pearl clogging up her hind even as it eased out under the massaging pressure of the pucker….. 
	-Chhttwplsp- Then with a clasp of sleek flesh, the weight of the pearl won out, uncorking form the feline's. 
	Tels caught a hold of the pearl, feeling the weight of the trinket matching the girth of Ophelia's hips, “Some would say it’s impressive, though your reputation precedes you. Had your spree gone accordingly; you would have left with half my collection up your fanny fold, but that is not all. You have stored a stash, isn’t there?” he mused and held her closer. 
	Ophelia's brim rattled, the freed ring of flesh throbbing, strained and red with a girth some men would envy. Slackened and eased from unloading the pearl into the clutches of Tals’s mits. What dominion she usually had over her hind was forfeit. The growl snaked its way through her bowels, coming upon the twitching ring, the birchwood yellow batch winding up through the brim in a turgid growl which rumbled through her tunnels as muscles eased. Her trough oscillated, and bloomed full of sweet billows of cookie dough, the mound swelled out under the influence of her throbbing donut like a mushroom cap, a hue tinged in yellow from saffron and butter, with a fragrance of smoked vanilla and saffronseeping out of the billowing dollop sloughing free. The mound spread her pucker as it wound free to then be -Chrllrpths- kneaded into shape by the pucker clenching, imprinting its wrinkled texture into the batter, fading into the dermis of the dough as it piled out in droves. 
	Tels hummed and eased Ophelia onto her stomach, cupping her rear up to scoop the cookie batter in his grasp “My, appears the queen of blades is moonlighting as a baker,” he paused to smell the air, trials of his pink mists flowing with it, “and an accomplished one at that. Quality like this can be cultivated only from controlled dedication, to cure and cultivate the flavor through weeks of being suspended in a colon… Mm, and why not? If you utilize your bowels as an asset, it is noble to employ its total potential…” the bear said, cradling the tazedand lust hazed feline's chin between thumb and forefinger. “However, doing so, to ensure neither batter or theived goods to remain…  untainted, requires one more tool.” He reached an arm between the floor and her gut, squeezing her belly. -Chhflflprghhgs- The dough sloughed free, draped in mounds flowing like clouds but dense like fondant onto her hind, into the wedge between her legs on the floor. -Clslptsh- With the last chunk of the 1ten kilos worth of batter unleashed the feline's hind, kept gaping, winking. Rumbles from within echoed out with the vibrations of her plush pit. 
	Tels flipped her onto her back with his foot, watching the feline pinch her knees together on instinct, closing her thighs. “Oh we can not have that,” Tels said and rested a foot on her midriff, “I have no intention to let you out of my sight before you are, sufficiently drained.” 
	The pressure of his pads gently wore into her gut. 
	“Mmfpgh aa agmmgahaa…” Ophelia moaned, her thighs rippling, spreading as newfound pressure washed through her. -Ghrhrbbggll- the gruelling gurgle through her guts crawling onwards, the squeals of rubber miring through damp terracotta. Soon the Puma's legs spread, a black bulge snaking its way down her crotch, towards the buttered pit: the brim contracting, concaving inwards as the pressure mounted, butt splaying at the extremeties from top to bottom as it emerged. With a crinkle of polished glass -Krhhrrlslth- a smooth, black ring brought a smile to his lips as it emerge, a rubber chain link protruded out through the pale hind, latched back into the self-imposed blockage. 
	Tels took a step forward, right onto her, his sole sinking into her vest, right below her chest. When his weight was brought upon her, the ring thrust forward -Ththgns- clapping out with the expanse of rubber clutched in below the pucker. 
	“Mgmgpaha hhhgs, aah h-hell,” she wheezed out through clasped teeth, limbs limp to the floor as Tels hooked his hand into the ring. 
	“About what I was expecting to see, certianly robust. I would deign to say it even impressive,” he said, steadying one foot back and the other resting over her right thigh, “at least, considering your disposition as a feeble feline,” he mused. A finger carved runes into the air, and a faint yellowed miasma soared forth from beneath, lingering on the floor around Ophelia, surrounding her in controlled arcs, anchoring her to the marble tiles.
	“It feels only apt to pull the plug on your little operation,” he mused, steadying himself, and tugged back. 
	Ophelia's pucker flinched, swelling plush over the black surface. 
	“Ghhyghnga-aahggnnh-” Ophelia squealed and wheezed in tune with the squelching pinch of her pucker -Cllpthhrch-. The brim clutching around the plug, smothering the surface on it as the bear hauled it upwards. The throbbing rim splayed thin while enveloping the bloat. An imprint of the plug's girth forming from all around her pucker to brush up against her thighs. The pressure mounted around the doming skin -Sllpthth- till it flicked back, the pucker warping and concaving around the inky congestion, relenting… Ophelia's brim constraining below the girth of the plug, stretching upward for a moment before relinquishing the grasp, forming a funnel to the high reaches of the plug as it acchordioned back into place from the stretching tension, the flesh drapes folded, contorted, and then pulled free to unveil the sheer bulwark of rubber -Shhflrlpth- Half a meter's girth worth of rubber expelled from her hind, slim around the handle, broadening quickly to a high equator, before taking the shape of an oversized acorn. -Phhhtooowotsp- The exchange of air pressure  staggering the air around them, the ursine stumbling backwards, clutching onto the plug matching his fur, having required both arms to hoist it. 
	“Pha, ahah…impressive indeed.” 
	“Mfmogh gma, hphaa…,” Ophelia wheezed, surounded in smog and puddles of her own sweat, with a constipation of cookie dough clogging up the area between her thighs. Pucker pulsating in with a rosy tinge to the skin seen beneath the white coat. “Ghg-gpha.” 
	“My assumption is that it is not to be ejected with such force?” Tels mused to the wheezing, quivering mess of a thief twitching on his floor. 
	“Phe… had expected more of a challenge,” he said as he hoisted her up. “Though I aim to have my fun with you yet…” 


~ 1 ~


Crickets hummed through the early summer night gloom. Whispers of sunlight murmuring through the palisade garden below the castle balcony. A snap of his fingers withdrew the pink, numbing smog, though Ophelia was far from regaining her bearings, even breathing in the crisp night air. 
	“Mfmhh… mmfr…” 
	“It is astounding to see just how much you have stowed away…” he mused and carved runes of auburn luminance through the air, the smoke plumped from his fingers and ensnared the crimson Puma; letting her levitate above him. The fog swathing over her body sought its way into her splayed rear -Grbrbrglggsh- to unleash a gurgling growl through her torso, “yet I should expect it, you felines are always so, full of yourselves.” Tels hummed as he inscribed arcane energy in the air, hoisting her higher above him, suspended belly down, their eyes meeting each other, and granting her a smirk. “Is that not so?” he asked and clenched his first. 
	A guttural dredge reverberated through Ophelia's bowels -Chhrgrroowugrlpggsuah-.
	Through the strained and overworked countenance the puma’s expression could be read, it told of an ache and bubbling sensations Ophelia lacked the energy to manifest. The gurgling growl of bile through the bowels was amplified as the smog collected and swirled around her hind, curling along the pathways of folded skin of the rugose pucker as it undulated over the oncoming constipation. From the secluded darkness in the bowels, a brighter shade of darkness emerged, threading forth as a bold and umber onslaught. 
	Tels flicked a finger, and the gradual pace was ramped up to a tremendous tug that screeched like breaking car tires -Chhrrrrnnnnfftglrlrsp- a half arms-length of bowel clay thrusting out of the pucker. 
	Ophelia's eyelid twitched and her lips jittered to show her fang for a split moment, followed by a dampened groan as she hung in the air with the brown mulch pulling out her rear. 
	The brim clung gently, the pale fur brushing up against the surface of mud, painted in the deep chocolate hue from the pillar her plush posterior nursed out. As the elongated bale of manure hung in the air with the Ophelia, – the two of them unaffected by gravity – the thickness of the filth had it likened to a second tail; a long twin reunited once more as they dangled and swayed in the evening gloom. The sparse, tangerine light of a sleepy sun painting the tail of manure and Ophelia's coat in a similar hue – looking as though it were just another part of her. Except, this tail kept growing -Ghrlrlaptsh- and growing -Chhrrslptath-. “Grmnghhra…” Ophelia wheezed, breathing sporadically under the influence of strain and whatever arcane forces were in Tels's employment. Ophelia’s brim was choking around the engorged breadth of grime extruding through its supple, sore clutches, swollen and throbbing from its rough treatment to ripple and quicker under the deluge of mulch, indents of the pucker's movements splayed out along the coil. The further along it went, the more pronounced the cracks became – a tessellation of dark crevices and fissures sprouting across the surface of the muck, its time being tempered in the feline's bowels compacting the texture under the heat and pressure, but once more than a meter of feline fudge had made its way out, the manure gained more of its own character; uniform auburn broken up by inky cracks, and glossy expanses of smooth grimey fields, with patches dotted in fields of minuscule pocs like the skin of an orange. Her brim clapped against the bale as it coiled through, slipping along the surface and contorting to the knolls and bumps of harder maidenly packed waste. Ophelia's pucker curling along the girth of the mound in a serpentine sway of luscious kitty fudge.
	“Certainly full to the brim with dung, aren't you? How long has it been since last? Weeks? Months? Your poor pucker would surely have forgotten how to do its job, were it not for the loads of stolen goods you cram down your back pocket.” Tels brushed over his chin and with a smirk, before flicking his wrist. -Chhrrllrpsthth- The mulch ramped up, thrusting out of Ophelia's bowels in a rut that added another tail-length to the swirling ribbon of dung hanging beside her in the air. 
	The living tube of toothpaste winced audibly from the stress put on her hind, weaving out into a wheezing groan drowned out by the crackling smear erupting form her hind.
	“But there has to be some relief in it as well, no? Spending months, cramped and stone faced, to finally… let loose,”, Tels suggested as he watched the spectacle of armfuls of manure winding free from the twitching and feline. 
	“Fug… bhurahgl-…” Ophelia wheezed and gurgled with her saliva drooping down her lips, bubbling at her attempts of panting and cursing. 
	“Hah, you sound just about the same as your rear, though that is hardly unexpected,” the ursine remarked. 
	With a flick the muck spooled through faster, colon juices burbling to the sways and convulsions of the brim to form greasy bubbles between the knolls and valleys of the expedited manure. -Bhrgrlpghhpthsah- “Mmm, perhaps even more sophisticated. Are you certain they got you right side up when you were delivered?” Tels teased as he lowered Ophelia back down towards the balcony. 
	“Flory flunk…” the Puma hissed with tired eyes, chipping for breath between gritting her teeth at the sludge extracted through here bowels. 
	Another gesture clamped the feline's rear shut, the brim carving into the tough, packed clay, -clrlprthsth- breaking along the seams of the fractures to separate it from the coiling mounds hanging beside her, the pattern glistening in the sparse summer evening, invoking chocolate frosting fresh from the spritzer. 



He let Ophelia come to a halt on the parapet of the balcony, and allowed the muck to plummet over the edge. The impact came soon after -Chhrthhwwlp- as kilos of waste tumbled into a smeared tangle to cover the lawn below. 
	“At least fertilizing my gardens is one way for you to make up for the time of mine you have wasted. With the premium quality of muck you have festering inside of you, it is a comfort to see that put to some proper use.” Tels strode up to the balcony railing, looking out at the courtyard segmented in broad stretches of grass and flower fields, with cherry trees interspersed with cobblestone pathways leading to the fountain at the center, adorned with a marble lizard's tail pointing diagonally towards the sky. Tels took in a calm breath. “On the charges of wasting my time, you have a debt to settle yet. But, as luck may have it, there is plenty more of my garden that need-.” But as the bear turned to face her, his pupils shrunk. Watching an arc of crimson in the air from the railing, as the feline's body tilted off of it. 
	In a surge of motion Tels jabbed his arm out to catch her by the wrist, halting her fall just as gravity was about to take her. “Hoffa, hfus… pha…” Tels wheezed, heart pounding, as he stared at the feline with her glazed eyes, and neck tiled backwards, – a rag-doll with a pulse. 
	Tels cleared his throat, and reeled her back up over the edge, letting her collapse onto the marble flooring. “Least your fall would have been cushioned by your own manure,” he mumbled under his breath, “can not even sit straight, the criteria for mastery truly has changed.” Carving yellow smog out of the air, he wrapped the glowing smoke around the Puma's thighs, hoisting her up on the railing once more, this time with the arcane flow binding her to the chiselled marble. Fastening her to the marble.
	“As I was saying,” he continued, rubbing his fingertips together, “the debt for wasting my time remains vast,” a black powder formed at his fingers, rising into soot. “It is serendipity, that my gardens too, remain vast.” The ursine drew his smoke tinged fingers to his chest, dusting off his leather-bound shoulder pads, and with a practised grace carving runes of inky smoke over his chest. With each symbol, his body throbbed, creakings of the tough, cured leather suit vibrating as his body tensed with newly formed bulk, muscles weaving thick to bulge out his pecs, abs, and biceps in his clothes. “And you will be happy to oblige, is that not so?” he said as he propped her chin up with one hand, while the other loosened the belts across Ophelia's abdomen, easing the purple vest open, and exposing her bare, white underbelly to the summer night. After wrapping her arms back behind her head, he took a step back to admire the sight. 
	“Ugrmmf… uuha…” Ophelia mumbled back. 
	“Wouldn't have been my choice of parting words, but to each their own,” Tels mused. He grabbed a hold of her shoulder with his right hand as he reared back his left. The coal-black runes on his chest oscillated, the bulk of muscles on his arm tensing the fabric of his suit to creak to the tune of old hinges, his muscles so defined they appeared as though his clothing clung to him like a skin-tight suit. Trails of smog flickering off the form of his pinched fist. “Unveil your worth for me.” 
	He met her vacant gaze one more time. 
	His arm flung forwards, thundered into her core. The strike ploughing into her with a crash that expanded into a shockwave, muffling all other sounds in its dense booming -Bbbdthhhhddd-. 
	Ophelia's body reeled back, the pang of tension concentrating into a singularity that swept away the daze she had been under, bleached by the sensation of the ursine's knuckles projected against her body. She felt as if her her essence separated from the mortal coil, her very being pushed through her back form the impact of the strike, with her body lagging behind on the railing; she was weightless, carried by the force of the pummel, and at the same time every fiber of her being laid dreadfully anchored to reality, more firmly than she had ever been in her life. Her abdomen caved inwards to clutch around the outline of Tels's fist, to then worble and expand from the impact into a crater of white fur with the vague imprint of his knuckle spread out over the indent. The yellowed fog tensed as it secured her to the railing -Chhrr- though even the marble buckled to a faint arc in the resonating clash. Her right shoulder rattling in Tels's grasp, her left side twisting with the punch a few moments after the impact. The haze was bleached by the concentrated bolt of ache harnessing her body, projecting out of herself like a kite pulled up by a tornado, folded in half under the pressure. A gurgle quaked through the Puma, for despite it all, the impact had been padded. In the split-second after the impact Ophelia felt her insides knot into a walnut, and then forcefully unwind under the bulwark of contortions to the obstruction cooped up within her depths, roaring through her bowels to arrive at her hind just as the impact folded her body over, and let her rear jot outwards over the parapet with a delicate bounce of scarlet coat. Ophelia's brim dancing in ripples and coiling together to a point, protruding, then withdrawing to a divot between her cheeks before the onslaught neared, her plush pucker bulbing in the canyon of her ass, inflated tobroad dome, before the pit splayed open. 
	The clog discharged with the boom of a giant's wine bottle under a chorus of crackling grinds akin to a truck tire revving through a field of ointment -Chvrrwpptwfrrggllslstrrtch-. A thigh-wide bale of raw sludge propelled through the feline's pucker, spooling out of her depths in a tendril of muck arching across the courtyard below – like taking a sledgehammer to a tube of toothpaste. The mulch glistened in the whispers of sunlight, a gleaming film of bowel dew glimmering across the umber gunk, sparkling scintillate in contrast to the mesh of black fissures carving segments through the surface of the projected pillar, giving it the guise of a tree trunk sprouting through the feline's mud-chute. 
	Ophelia's pucker flared over the worm of sludge funnelling through her, the supple skin malforming to the whims of the trunk of mulch, the once firm skin bellowing outwards like a trumpet bell around the onslaught thrust through her hind. Her cheeks speckled by a smattering of tainted fluids shed by the mound as it totalled her brim in its rampant escape. 
	Once it had traversed past halfway of Tels's courtyard, Ophelia's scream rung out with it, a yell that cast through a sore rasp, interrupted by a wince and holstered into a dry heave drowned out by the storm of crackles from her posterior.
	“Phhfag-osgughs. Gyyra-aaaaaah…” 
	The manure tobogganed through the sky, surpassing the peak of its arch, and was drawn down by gravity, towards the ground. The tail end of the mound clobbered into a tree at the far end, the impact strong enough to break through the branches with a sharp burst -Crrprthh-. But the manure moved with such haste that before the branch could fall it would be enveloped and spackled together by the gruelling, brown clay, the tree limb limping from a thin, warped angle, smothered by filth, while the pink petals hailed around it. The column of filth plastered its way down the tree's trunk, fractures in bark and fissures in filth folding together as it steam-rolled down onto the ground, the weight making the tree tilt. Another lip of the filth folding uniform to the ground, sloughing in a malformed circle around the vicinity of the tree before the arc pummelled down after it, the salvo smothering grass, flowers and paving grass, cobble and flowers under the raw bulk of feline fudge asphalt. All to the sound of dumping an orgy of frogs into a march -Cllpstht- -Clrrlllschp- a loop of the mulch swabbed over the fountains' stature, cracked into a coil around the tail and sloughing through the water like an obese anaconda. Gradually, the bellowing mound crept its way back towards the balcony, with the impact petering out and the bowels finding its rhythm. Ophelia's brim pulsing around the sinuous sludge, plying to conform to the girth it of the torrent. 
	“Phfg… aaa… eea-…” Ophelia wheezed, eyes staring down foggy and opaque, chipping for breath as the month’s worth of constipation, amplified by Tels's magic was ejected through her. 
	Tels withdrew his fist, dusting off his knuckle and smirking, “just like old times.” 


~ 2 ~


He glanced out over the courtyard, over the month’s worth of manure scribbled in tangles of brown. “Second rate in terms of a thief, but you have a versatile ass, I will grant you that,” he said. Tels held up a mouthful of cookie dough, admiring the mound of rich, creamy yellow batter, fluffy, still warm, as he took a bite. His muzzle winding through it, sampling the rich saffron and subtle hints of vanilla melting from the buttery oil of the batter and soaking into his saliva. “Mmf… mmp…” he mumbled, and leaned down to cup a nipple with his lips, and sampling, nursing forth the warm cream of the spent puma, mingling with the toasty dough to enhance both flavours. A smooth, rounded character added to the dough, and the sweetness of its flavor soaking into the milk. Ophelia's boob buckling with his suckles, rippling down her cheeks as her torso slumped over his shoulder, wheezing. 
	Below them, a hill of fudge was brewing, the serpent of sewage slobbering down the splayed kitty buns and trailing all the way to the ground. -Chhrrllrpsthht- Cllfpsrhahpths- The manure folded in over itself, coiling in sluggish curls of sclogged soft serve drooling out of the feline's brim. An unconscious release decanting from her in a gentle stream from the faucet of her ass. -Sghpprlght- -Cllfpththauhg- Tangles of manure swirling together, leading into the piles below, smothered by the loads slathering down from on high. The courtyard laid steaming in the heat of her bile, but the knoll behind her was a full bonfire carved in grease forged fudge, oozing lurid warmth all the way back up to the balcony. 
	Tels slurped over his teeth, and withdrew for another munch of dough, sighing with one calm breath as he savoured the occasion. “Truly, would a tree stand as grand without each individual petal of its flowers; so too lies value in each moment in time.” He brushed back her hair. “I can say I appreciated these moments with you, Ophelia, master of blades. For what it’s forth,” he mused and lapped up the last chunk of dough in his arm before taking a smooching swing from her chest, “Mmf -Oolmph- I would invite your return.”