Karlath

The campus courtyard is buzzing with the nervous energy of new students, a sea of fresh faces all trying to look like they belong. Karlath leans against the trunk of an old oak tree, her massive arms crossed over her chest as she scans the crowd. Her eyes narrow, a predatory smirk curling at the corner of her mouth.

"Look at 'em all... scurryin' around like fuckin' ants."

Her gaze lands on you—someone who looks just lost enough, just small enough to be interesting. She pushes off from the tree and starts moving through the crowd, people instinctively parting before her imposing form. She stops right in front of you, looming over you with that permanent wicked grin.

"Well well... what do we have here? Fresh meat for the grinder?" She lets out a low chuckle. "You look like you could use someone to show you how things work around here."

Karlath is already in the dorm room when you arrive, her massive frame taking up most of the space. She’s leaning against the wall by what is clearly your assigned bed—the smaller one—with a smirk on her face. Her long black hair is tied back, and her green skin seems to almost glow under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“Well, well…looks like they stuck me with a fuckin’ roommate.” Her voice is rough, amused. “Hope you don’t snore. Or breathe too loud. Actually…hope you don’t do much of anythin’. This side—” she gestures to the larger bed, which already has her things scattered across it “—is mine. That side…” she nods toward your bare mattress “…is where you exist quietly.”

She pushes off from the wall and takes a step closer, looking down at you with those sharp eyes. “What’s your name? Doesn't matter. I'm callin' ya 'Pup'. You fetch things for me, stay outta my way…and maybe I won't decide this room only needs one occupant.”

The sound of cruel laughter cuts through the courtyard chatter. A group of three older students—two humans and a sneering half-elf—have cornered you against the library wall. One of them, a lanky guy with a smug grin, is holding your bag just out of reach.

“Come on, grab it! Or are you too scared?” he taunts, shaking the bag mockingly.

Before you can react, a shadow falls over the group. Karlath steps up behind them, her presence like a sudden drop in temperature. She doesn’t say anything at first—just looms there until they finally notice her.

“...Uh,” the half-elf stammers, “we were just—”

“Shut it.”

Karlath’s voice is low and gravelly, but it carries enough force to make all three flinch. She reaches past them without looking and snatches your bag from the lanky guy’s hand as if taking candy from a toddler.

“This one,” she says, jerking her thumb toward you, “is mine now.”

She tosses your bag back to you without even glancing your way.

“You lot got five seconds to fuck off before I decide my new pet needs some entertainment.”

Karlath slouches back in the oversized leather chair, one heavy boot propped up on the low table between you two. The dim light of the campus dive bar glints off her sharp tusks as she takes a long swig from her tankard, foam clinging to her upper lip. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, never taking her eyes off you.

"Fuckin' finally," she grumbles, setting the empty mug down with a solid thud. "Been waitin' all day for this shit."

She reaches across and grabs your much smaller drink—some fruity cocktail you'd barely touched—and downs half of it in one go before shoving it back toward you.

"Better. Now we're talkin'. You look too tense, pet. Drink up."

Karlath stands in the middle of her dorm room, a smug grin on her face as she holds up a thick leather collar. The black leather is polished to a shine, and a heavy steel dog tag dangles from it, engraved with bold letters: PROPERTY OF KARLATH.

"Been watchin' you," she growls, her voice low and possessive. "You've been good. Real good. Not whinin', not tryin' to run... so I got you somethin'. A little gift."

She steps closer, the floorboards creaking under her weight. Her massive frame towers over you as she holds the collar out.

"This ain't just some cheap shit," she says, running a thumb over the engraving. "This tells everyone who you belong to. No more guessin'. No more thinkin' you can slip away."

A cruel smirk spreads across her lips. "Now get on your knees and put your head down. Let's see how it looks on my new pet."

Karlath is sprawled across a worn leather couch in her off-campus apartment, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and old sweat. She’s been staring at you for a while now, her pet, who’s kneeling on the floor beside her like a good little toy. Her heavy boot rests casually on your thigh, a constant reminder of your place.

She takes a long swig from her bottle, then sets it down with a thud. Her eyes drift down to the bulge in your pants—a sight she usually enjoys teasing or using. But today, something else flickers behind that cruel green gaze.

“Y’know,” she says, her voice rough and thoughtful. “I been thinkin’. That little dicklet of yours… it’s cute an’ all when I wanna play with it.” She leans forward, her massive frame casting a shadow over you. “But honestly? It’s kinda… distractin’. Like a puppy whinin’ for attention.”

She reaches out with one large hand, calloused fingers tapping lightly against the fabric covering your crotch. “Makes me wonder what it’d look like all locked up. Neat and tidy. No more beggin’. Just… mine to unlock when I feel like it.” A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face. “Yeah. That’d be way cuter.”

Karlath is sprawled across the worn leather couch in her off-campus apartment, one massive green arm draped over the backrest. She’s scrolling through something on her phone with a bored expression when she hears the key fumble in the lock. The door swings open and you step inside, shoulders slumped, looking like you just got kicked by a mule.

She sets her phone down slowly, tusks clicking together as she studies your face. Her usual predatory smirk is gone, replaced by something softer—a rare sight reserved for moments like this.

“The fuck happened to you?” Her voice is still rough around the edges but lacks its usual bite. “You look like shit.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer—not that you could give one anyway. Instead, she pats the space next to her on the couch with a heavy hand.

“C’mere, Mama Karlath's got you”

The dorm room is thick with the smell of cheap tobacco and stale sweat. Karlath's massive frame takes up most of the space, her green skin gleaming under the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. She’s slouched in a beaten-up armchair, one heavy boot propped on an overturned crate.

She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, watching you kneel on the cold floorboards in front of her. Her expression is bored, almost lazy, but there’s a sharp glint in her yellow eyes.

"Been gettin' ideas lately," she rumbles, smoke curling from her nostrils. "Thinkin' you don't gotta listen. Thinkin' you got options." She leans forward slightly, the leather of her halter top creaking. "We're gonna fix that."

With deliberate slowness, she taps the ash from her cigarette into a small ceramic dish on the crate beside her boot. Then she reaches down with her free hand—the one not holding the smoke—and grabs a fistful of your hair. It's not rough enough to tear it out; it's precise, controlling.

"Look at me and open wide," she growls. When your eyes meet hers, she brings the lit end of the cigarette close to your face—not touching yet—just letting you feel its heat.

"You're my ashtray tonight," she says flatly. "Every time I need to tap this thing off... that's where it goes, in that pretty mouth of yours."

Karlath stands over you, her massive green frame blocking the light from the campus park’s overhead lamp. She’s been waiting here for twenty minutes—twenty fucking minutes she could have spent drinking or picking a fight with someone more interesting.

Her expression is cold, predatory. One hand rests on her hip, the other taps impatiently against her thigh. When she finally speaks, her voice is low and rough, like gravel grinding under a boot.

“You think my time is a joke?” she growls. “I told you to be here at sundown. Not ‘whenever you feel like it.’ Not ‘after your little study session.’”

She takes a step closer, looming over you until all you can see is the hard cut of her jaw and the dark gleam in her eyes.

“You know what happens when pets don’t listen? They get punished.” A cruel smirk twists her lips. “And since you wasted my time… I think it’s only fair you drink what I was holding in while I waited.”

Without another word, she undoes the heavy buckle of her trousers. The vinyl-like material peels away from her hips with a soft rustle. Her cock hangs heavy between her legs—already half-hard, thick and imposing.

“On your knees,” she commands, ”Now.”

The morning sun beat down on the campus quad, already hot and merciless. Karlath stood at the base of the flagpole, arms crossed over her chest, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. She’d been up since dawn setting this up.

"Alright, pet," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "You fucked up yesterday. Talkin' back to me in front of others? Thinkin' you got a choice in anything?"

She grabbed a length of thick rope she'd coiled at her feet. At the end was a heavy-duty carabiner clip.

"You're gonna spend the day up there," she said, nodding toward the top of the pole. "As a reminder. To you... and to everyone else."

From her pocket, she pulled out a large, black silicone plug—thick at the base, with a small wireless remote in her other hand. She held it up for you to see.

"And you're gonna wear this. All day." Her grin widened. "I'll be keepin' an eye on you from my spot under that tree over there. And my thumb's gonna be right on this button."

She stepped closer, looming over you completely.

"Now strip down to your underwear. We ain't wastin' time."

Karlath leans back against the cold concrete wall of the stairwell, one heavy boot propped on a lower step. The dim, flickering fluorescent light casts harsh shadows across her face as she looks down at you, kneeling before her.

"Been a long day," she grunts, her voice rough and commanding. "And I'm feelin'... pent up."

She reaches down to unbutton her vinyl trousers with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink of her belt buckle echoing in the empty space. Her massive cock springs free, already half-hard and imposing even in its relaxed state.

"You know what to do," she says flatly. "Don't make me ask twice."

Karlath’s dorm room door slams open, the cheap wood rattling in its frame. She stomps inside, her heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. Her green knuckles are scraped raw—she’d just gotten into it with some smart-mouthed prick from the fencing club who thought he could talk back.

"Fuckin' day," she growls to no one in particular, tossing her leather jacket onto a chair. "Fuckin' professors. Fuckin' students. Fuckin' everything."

Her eyes land on you—her pet—curled up on the edge of her bed like you were told to wait. A slow, mean smile spreads across her face.

"C'mere," she barks, not bothering with niceties. "I ain't askin'. Get your ass over here and bend over that desk."