A domme with two doggirls that gets them way too riled up.
You know how easy it is to play too hard with either of them, not to mention both. You know it's dangerous when you have a pair bonded that closely, how easily it is for them to push the other into more extreme moods.
You don't listen to good sense though. You think you can handle them. You've worked so hard on all their commands, you've worked for hours on recall, on "drop it." You thought you could handle them without their muzzles, without their safety gear.
You didn't worry, not at first, when they started looking at you the same way they look at their enrichment toys.
You started to worry when their play started to focus more on you, than the toys you kept trying to distract them with. Your hands first. "Accidental" little nips that remind you how sharp their teeth are. Your fingers caught between jaws that could chew them off, but released after only a threatening moment.
Until they weren't satisfied with that and they throw their weight into you.
One of them, you could have pushed off, maybe, but both working together? You were on the ground before you could consider calling out for help.
Play turns to something more insistent. Mouths and noses and paws working to tear away your training tools, your clothes, your defenses left scattered around you. The pair growl over you like a steak, snapping at each other in dominance displays, arguing over who gets what. You don't have time to consider what it means for you. Your panicked mind is reeling, unable to find a way out.
You feel one of them pressing against your ass. You don't have a chance to scream before fingers are pushing into your mouth. You're left drooling over yourself, grunting as the first of them takes her prize. The hound you thought you could control wrapping fingers around your throat as she takes you from behind.
Until you find out that dominance spat isn't over. Teeth longer than your fingers snapping by your face as the pair clash over your body. Each of them tearing at the other, at you, creating a feedback loop that only drives them deeper and deeper into their crazed state.
You feel one being pushed out of you so the other can take her place. Back and forth, the two slipping in and out as they war for territory.
Finally your body will yield. Opening up to the pair of them. The snapping teeth and exchange of growls shifting to mutual whimpers of pleasure as they frot inside your body.
It's a lot, taking the pair. Each of them enough to stretch you on their own, but together it's enough it feels like your insides have to rearrange to fit them both.
For awhile you'll focus on just that. Feeling that fullness, feeling your body become forcably devoted to a singular purpose. No more strength left, all you can do is clutch at one of them as each stroke pushes them just a little deeper. Reshapes you just a bit more.
You'd have no real choice but to ride it out. As you grew used to their paired size and started relaxing, your body would start to surrender to the pleasure. It wouldn't be long before you were soaking their lap, clutching at them for support, shaking through your first of many climaxes.
At least by this point you'd be too far gone to hear our laughter. You'd never make out our teasing exchange over your shoulder.
"We already broke this one's squeeker"
"We haven't even tied you yet."
That would drag you out of whatever empty minded state you'd sunken into. Our knots. Nowhere to escape, too weak from your pointless struggles.
No choice but to take it.
"Just breath through it. Relax."
Whatever time we took stretching you out between us wouldn't be enough, but by now you would have run out of tears. Just shaking between us with a sick sense of pride that you could take us both.
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