The Winston Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Winston owns Liz)

As Liz slowly got up from the floor, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of déjà vu that lingered within her. The memories of what had transpired just hours before came flooding back, and with them, a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite process. The pain between her legs was palpable, and the sight before her only served as a stark reminder of what had happened. The globs of fluid on the floor, an unsettling mix of her own juices and Winston’s cum, seemed to gleam in the light that filtered through into the room.

Despite her initial revulsion and violation, Liz couldn’t deny a strange sense of exhilaration that coursed through her veins. It was as if the primal, raw act had awakened something deep within her—a part of herself she hadn’t known existed. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, both terrifying and intriguing at the same time.

Liz knew she needed to clean up but found herself lingering, her gaze fixed on the evidence of what had occurred. It was as if she needed to acknowledge it fully, not just with her mind but also on a deeper level. She took steps towards the mess cautiously and dropped to one knee beside it, her hand extending as if in slow motion. Her fingers brushed against the fluid hesitantly before she drew back, startled by her own audacity.

The sound of Winston’s heavy breathing and the movement from across where he lay caught her attention. He seemed content, almost as if satisfied with what had transpired between them earlier on the floor where she currently kneeled, staring at her hand now glistening with their shared fluid.

Liz found herself drawn into a deep, introspective silence. Her thoughts swirled with confusion and the aftermath of such an unexpected event—her mind wrestling between repulsion, curiosity about her body’s betrayal in responding to such primal stimulation. With each passing moment she couldn’t help but ponder if this was a turning point for her, an awakening of sorts.

With great reluctance and the need to distance herself from these confusing feelings for a while, Liz finally stood up. Her movements were deliberate and slow as she turned away from the scene on her floor, towards a new day ahead where perhaps answers might reveal themselves about what had truly just transpired within her very being, on every level possible.

Liz’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Winston approach the scene of their earlier encounter. The air seemed to thicken with an unspoken understanding, a primal energy that vibrated between them. She couldn’t help but feel frozen in place as Winston sniffed at the fluids on the floor, his grunt of approval sending a shiver down her spine. It was as if he had claimed this space, and by extension, she herself.

Their eyes met again in a silent confrontation. The playful spark that usually danced within Winston’s gaze was now overshadowed by an unmistakable dominance, a sense of ownership that unnerved and strangely exhilarated Liz. It was as if she had crossed into a new dynamic, one where the familiar lines of their previous relationship were blurred beyond recognition.

The sound that escaped Winston’s throat next was unmistakable—a deep, commanding bark. It sent a tremor through Liz as she watched him begin to move closer towards her, his shaft visibly growing with each step. This was no playful approach; this carried the weight of demand and expectation.

Liz felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to step back, reclaim the control she once thought was hers in this space and their interaction. Another part of her seemed rooted, intrigued by the primal dance unfolding before them.

Winston’s progression towards Liz was steady and unyielding. His intent could not be misunderstood, his gaze pinning her in place with a silent command she seemed powerless to defy. The sound of the floor beneath his feet as he moved closer was almost deafening in its significance.

With every step Winston took, the distance between them diminished until they stood just inches apart. The air was electric with tension as Winston towered over Liz, his breath warm against her skin.

As Winston’s bark echoed through the space, Liz felt her body surrender to a will that wasn’t entirely hers. Despite any rational protests from within, she slid down onto her knees without conscious decision-making on the surface level. Her legs parted of their own accord, exposing herself to Winston once more.

The action seemed almost instinctual now—she spread her legs wider, surrendering to the primal demands being placed upon them by this dominant force. Her gaze couldn’t meet Winston’s, yet she could feel his approval as he moved forward.

Winston began by using the snout to explore her, taking in every detail. The warmth of his breath danced across Liz’s skin and then without warning he started to use the tongue for a more thorough exploration.