Master decided that friends of his would spend some time tonight doing a little kitten training. When I think of that, the first thing that comes to mind is the tv show My Cat From Hell. I can only imagine what would happen if the host stopped by for some obedience training. I didn’t let Master know that I giggled over this. His humor is more black and white, well, with me, at least.
Before he sent me away for the evening, a collar adorned my neck along with a new leash. It was not the kind of collar that signified anything other than I am a Kitten, but it brought tears to my eyes. I felt the love of this man the moment he tightened the buckle around my neck and handed the leash to the woman. The female laced the leash in her fingers, pointed to the ground, and let it be known that I was not worthy of walking on two legs. On my hands and knees across the grass, not stopping until we reached the cottage door. Even then, I was not to stand. Some would call this act humiliating, and in many ways, it is, but the life of a kitten is the life of devotion.
If you can imagine the sounds that come from a cat with a full belly of milk, that was me the moment the leash tightened around my throat. A female showing dominance is a beautiful sight for a woman like me. Though I am not the kind who could ever wrap my delicate fingers around the leather, I do appreciate those that can. A quick yank to my neck brought my head back and my eyes on the most beautiful creature. Lovely raven hair, eyes, the ocean’s color, and her flawless alabaster skin almost put me into a trance. That was when I realized I would do anything in the world to please this beautiful woman. Her happiness would be the primary concern.
As the female leaned down, her crimson pout brushed lightly over my own. Was I worthy? Does it matter? She wasn’t kissing me, though, to the novice, they might assume. Her red lipstick now smeared across my lips. She was claiming what she owned, well, at least for the remainder of her stay.
“My husband needs something that I will not provide for him. Tonight, you will be the receptacle for his cum. You will not enjoy this, and if you do, I will inform your Master of your disobedience,” she said.
A simple nod of my head was all that she needed to know I understand and follow directions.
As the female walked away, she patted her side for me to follow. Slowly I pranced across the floor, stopping as she poured herself a glass of chilled wine. Sitting on the side of the bed, she patted the corner of the firm mattress. I slithered in. My torso would lay across the mattress and my ass high in the air. I knew what they wanted. Master explained that already, but I can’t lie. Anal sex is the one act that scares me the most.
Chills moved up and down my spine when the woman placed her glass in the center of my back. Reaching down, she slowly slid my panties down to my knees. My ass is now exposed for her husband to see. I’m not a mind reader, but I was sure he was already hard.
“Do not move a muscle. If this glass spills, so shall your tears. Do you understand me?” she asked.
Once again, a simple nod of my head. She did not need me to explain with words. My motion was apparent enough.
Dipping her fingers in the glass, she pulled the dripping digits out and allowed the fluid to dribble down the crack of my ass, pooling in the entrance. It took all I had not to shake, but her threats reminded me of who and what I am.
With a hand on either side of my ass, she pulled my cheeks apart for her husband to view. I admit this was the point that I pushed my head into the bed and clamped my teeth on the thick bed covering. I’ve never endured anal sex, and this was indeed not how I expected my first time to go.
The female left the glass on my back, her hands pulling me apart, and her husband pressing the massive mushroom head against my tiniest opening. Without any lube other than the trickle of wine, he pushed in slowly—neither of us wanting the wine to spill.
Tears rolling down my face, I cried from the pain of his entrance into my ass. I’m not sure if it would hurt more if it were harder or slower. Either one, the searing pain the tore through my body was euphoric. A sickness inside of me feels that the pain inflicted is the reward for a job well done. I am not sure that this matters for me, but I think I am a terrible little kitten for not begging him to stop for a brief second. My pain endurance is higher than most.
With a soft stroke to my hair, the woman never spoke a word, but I assume this was her version of praise. His cock took no time in exploding inside of my ass. The moment he pulled back, his wife pushed my ass cheeks closed.
“Stay still, Kitten. Hold the walls closed, and do not spill a drop. My husband is taking me to dinner, and we expect you to be where we left you upon our return. You’ve done well for your first time. I will bring you a kitty bag when we return,” she said.
I am a good girl and follow directions, but the desire to be disobedient just once is strong. Not tonight, though. Tonight I remain the favorite.
Love and scratches,