The Hunter's Pet: A Scifi Dystopian Romance

She grabbed the nearest dress and pulled it over her head. It was voluminous, as was most city clothing, so it slipped right over her head. The salesman shouted in horror as she danced around his store, running hither and thither in the windows for all the citizens to see.

“Sarah! No!” William gave chase, but she was more nimble than him through the racks of clothes. She dived right through the middle of one, scattering fabric in a cloud of color.

“Stop her! Stop her at once!” The salesman's shrieks rose to a hysterical pitch. “She is destroying my store!”

The chase only lasted a minute, but in those sixty seconds Sarah managed to knock over practically every single rack in the store and tear through several dozen dresses. William caught her in the open space cleared by her rampage, his palm whacking her bottom hard enough to make her cry out. It was just as well he caught her, for a split second later authorities burst into the store, weapons at the ready. They were dressed in heavy blue uniforms, one of the few items of city attire that didn't culminate in a skirt.

“It's alright!” William shouted, his hand extended. “The situation is under control.”

“This does not look like it is under control,” an officer said.

“I mean, she is under control,” William said. “No need for the heavy stuff.”

The officers lowered their weapons, and Sarah felt William breathe again.

After that, there were fines. Lots of fines. Sarah stood in her new dress, bright pink with splashes of neon green whilst William paid out what he said amounted to half a year's salary to the salesman for damages and to the authorities for the fines incurred by having a pet out of control. Sarah stood by sheepishly whilst credits changed virtual accounts, then William took her home.

“Am I in trouble?” She gathered the courage to ask the question as they went through the front door.

“Oh, you're trouble,” he said. “There's no doubt about that.”

He was saying the words, but he didn't actually seem angry. He seemed like he was trying to hold something back, something that was hard to read on account of him hiding it.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning her close. She went obediently, hoping that she wasn't about to be spanked too hard.

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. “You are a terrible brat,” he murmured, kissing her over and over again with great affection and amusement.

“I'm actually very good at being a brat,” she replied between kisses.

“That is true, and you're going to be disciplined for that. You destroyed that store.”

“But I got a dress, like you wanted.” Sarah did a little twirl in the dress she had not relinquished. It fanned out around her in dramatic fashion, but it did not make her look civilized. If anything, it emphasized just how wild she was.

“For what that little trip cost we could have bought a hundred dresses. Take that thing off. Take everything off.”

Sarah obeyed. She sensed that the punishment, whatever it was, was not going to be unpleasant. She tossed off the dress and her underclothing and everything else and stood proudly naked before William, who likewise abandoned his coverings.

“Less clothing, less trouble,” he said, drawing her close. He cupped her bottom, his strong hand parting her cheeks enough that she felt a little cool rush of air between them. His cock was already thick with lust, pressed against her mound with an insistent pressure.

Drawing her toward him, he sat down on the very same couch she had been napping on earlier, pulling her down atop him in a position that was excitingly familiar. With one hand wrapped around her waist, he held her firm as his free hand began to land against her spread cheeks with hard, firm swats. It was a punishment of sorts, but it did not hurt in the slightest even though her cheeks were jiggling and stinging.

“I'm sorry about today,” he said, swatting her quickly.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to apologize,” she said, squirming back and forth, her clit rubbing against the hard ridge of his bare cock. Her wetness was beginning to coat his rod, making a smooth and pleasurable surface to grind against.

“I should have known it would not go well for you in the city. I should never have made you deal with that kind of prejudice.”

“Prejudish is the worst kind of meal,” she agreed, grinning.

He smiled back at her, settling his hands on her hips and pulling her close to let her grind against him without the distraction of stinging swats.

“Is this my punishment?”

“Oh, you want your punishment?” He let his fingers drift to her tender bottom hole. “Is this what you want?”

She gave a sheepish little smile and his grin grew broader. Slapping her bottom, he ordered her onto the floor in front of him. “Hands and knees, facing away from me,” he said. “Present that ass to me.”