“KITTEN! BREAKFAST!” Sir’s voice booms through the house. “Time to get up now, kitten!” I stretch atop the pillowy pet bed laid out for me on the floor. Sir and I have been playing - again. I smile to myself as I stretch my arms above my head and let out a contended sigh.
“Kitten!” he calls again.
I pull myself up onto my hands and knees and stretch once more, like the lazy, spoiled kitten I am. The fluffy white tail inserted in my behind shifts, sending a ripple of pleasure up my spine. I take a quick glance around the brightly lit room; the sunlight shining through the window, casting highlights and shadows across our play space. The walls are decorated with whips and canes, a padded whipping bench sits in the corner, metal rings dangle from various points in the ceiling where Sir like to hang me from ropes, a leather chest full of toys sit along one wall, and there’s one long table for massages… and torture. Oh, and there’s my fluffy white pet bed on the floor. He loves watching me sit there, sleep there, beg there. I love it too.
I crawl out of the room and down the hallway towards the kitchen. Sometimes I still can’t believe that this is my life. Truth be told, I never imagined I’d be involved in a 24/7 BDSM lifestyle relationship where I crawled around on the floor half the time. But hey, YOLO, right?
The tag on my collar jingles as I reach the kitchen entrance to where Sir is standing by the stove. I may be the one on my hands and knees, but he’s the one doing the cooking. I kneel right beside him. “It’s about time, kitten.” He pets my head and continues to cook. I can’t exactly see from my vantage point on the floor, but it smells like pancakes.
What I can see is Sir’s beautiful body, shirtless and completely drool worthy. Like every other time, just the sight of him makes me quiver with need.
“Go to the table. I’ll be there in a minute,” he orders, grabbing a plate from the cabinet. I sit for a second, not obeying immediately as he expects. “Is there a problem, kitten?” Sir asks with a hint of menace. I may not call him Master but, for all intents and purposes, he is. And ‘Master’ does not like it when I’m disobedient. “No, Sir,” I drawl, “I was just admiring the view.” He smirks. “I said get.” He waves a dismissive hand and his eyes flash and my stomach muscles clench. “Yes, Sir.” I place my hands on the cool tile floor and crawl out of the kitchen and into the dining area.
I kneel on the pillow next to the table. Most mornings, I sit in a chair like a civilized human being, but today, we’re playing. And it’s so much fun when we play. I always wear a collar, whether it’s an inconspicuous day collar, my slave collar, or a pet play collar. This morning, I woke up with Sir’s head between my legs and the white and pink kitten collar around my throat.
I notice the table already has fresh fruit, coffee and orange juice, and one place setting. Sir appears with a plate of pancakes and a bottle of syrup. I can almost guarantee this is going to get messy. He loves to get me dirty and then clean me up with his tongue. I shiver internally at just the thought. Sir places the plate and syrup down then sits in the chair directly in front of me. He’s angled it so he can access both the table and me.
“Closer.” He yanks on my collar wedging me between his legs. “Much better.” He slides his hand down my chest and massages one of my breasts. I close my eyes and inhale as sensations start to brew from the rough way he kneads and pulls on my nipple.
“Are you going to behave while I feed you?” he asks as he pulls away and begins to put food on his plate. Berries, a pancake, and a drizzle of syrup. “I can’t make any promises,” I purr. He pauses as he cuts the pancake.
“You know the more you misbehave the more severe the punishment?”
“I know.” This isn’t my first rodeo.
“But you’re willing to push me anyway?” He picks up a small triangle from his plate and feeds it to me.
I nod as I chew, my heated gaze mirroring his.
He feeds me another piece of pancake. I take it from his hand, sucking the syrup off his fingers as seductively as I can. I watch as he picks up one of the berries and places it in front of me. I open my mouth, but he pulls it back. Shaking his head, he slowly runs the blood red fruit along my lips like he’s applying lip gloss. “Lick,” he orders me. I run my tongue over the sweet juice coating my lips. “I wanted to take this slow. I wanted to savor you this morning. Build you up and break you down until you were begging . . .” “I’ll still beg,” I hastily interrupt him.
“You just love being naughty.” He grabs my chin. “I never gave you permission to speak.”
I smile wickedly. “I don’t need permission to speak.”
“Oh, no? What do you need permission for?”
“To cum.”
“And is that what you want? To cum?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He leans in and kisses me, a ravishing assault that warns me about what’s to come. By the time Sir pulls away, my lips are throbbing and so is my clit. I need him to touch me, sate me, but I know that’s not in the plans for a very long while. “Naughty kittens don’t get to cum.” His voice vibrates with authority. I can’t help the breathy plea of desperation that falls from my lips, “please Sir, I need you,” and my hand reaches out and runs up his thigh.
Breathing heavily, he hauls me off the floor and lays me out on the tabletop. “Open,” he orders, lifting my legs so my ass and tail are hanging just off the edge of the table. My thighs are wide, and I’m on display. I know I’m glistening in the morning light; I’ve never been good at controlling my arousal, especially when my Sir’s tongue is mere inches away from me.
“Sir,” I whimper, wanting to clench my thighs as my pussy tingles. “Yes, kitten?” He hovers over my clit as close as humanly possible but never touches it. The only thing I can feel is the warm caress of his breath. “You want my tongue on you?” he asks, a hair away from my wide-open cunt. “Yes,” I rasp. “Yes, what?” “Yes, please.” I twitch. “I don’t think that’s the right answer.” “Yes, Sir,” I correct myself. My excitement is getting the better of me as he strokes my tail, teasing me with the plug lodged deeply in my ass. Sir drapes my legs over his shoulders then reaches for the syrup. I knew this was going to get messy.
“You had your breakfast. Now, it’s time for mine.” He squeezes the bottle and coats my pussy with the sticky substance. It’s lukewarm and tickles as it drips down my heated pink flesh. “Cum and I’ll spank you,” he says as he puts his mouth on me and begins to lick. My muscles immediately spasm. “Oh, shit!” I cry out as he laps up every last drop of syrup while simultaneously fucking me with his fingers and slightly tugging on the plug. It takes every ounce of will and endurance I have not to cum. I want to. Fuck, I need to. “Sir!” I scream as I near the edge, holding back the inevitable. He licks harder and pumps the plug faster until he feels my cunt begin to quiver and immediately, without warning, he stops, and I collapse on the table, panting heavily. A sad desperate whine escapes me. He lifts his head and looks up at me over my heaving chest, his eyes a sharp, piercing in the morning light, bold and dominant. Just like my ‘Master.’
“Clean up breakfast then come to the play room,” he orders resolutely.
“Yes, Sir,” I answer obediently but with a lingering pout in my voice. With that he steps away, his erection standing tall and proud, and disappears down the hallway. This is going to be a long day.
(Story concept from an M Never novel and rewritten to be applicable to myself and Sir.)
