“So,” I asked My wife and slave as W/we lay in bed, “have you given any thought to a Halloween costume for this year?”
“What!?!” was her anticipated response. “Master, it’s just barely the beginning of September!!!”
“So?” I chided her, gently pinching her just above the hip bone. “There’s no reason to not think about it now, is there?”
“i suppose not, Sir…” I kissed the top of her forehead. “But, Sir, if You’re asking about Halloween costumes now, do You already have something in mind for me?”
“Yes and no,” I replied honestly, admiring how the moonlight sparkled in her eyes. “Do you recall the costume shop on Alamen Boulevard near the Chinese restaurant that opened last month?” she nodded. “I was walking past there today and noticed a beautiful, thick, furry cat costume I thought you’d like.”
“A cat costume?” her voice was filled with sudden joy, betraying the fatigue she typically felt (for good reason) after a lengthy late-night play session.
“As soon as I saw it, I thought of you instantly. I didn’t go in the store to check on the price, but it must certainly be expensive to look that close to the ‘real thing.'”
“Well,” she replied, “i guess that means i won’t be dressing as Jubei-chan this year after all.”
“So you have been thinking about costumes already.” Not a question, but a statement, with a slightly accusatory undertone to My voice.
“Not really, Master. As W/we began watching the Jubei-chan series last weekend, i was thinking about how to potentially create such a costume for when W/we go to another anime convention… but Halloween is just as good a time as any to wear it, or perhaps the cat costume, Sir.”
“Well, think about it. But if you want the cat costume, you will need to let Me know rather soon, as I assume it will sell quite quickly. And then, because of the almost-certainly high price, you will also need plenty of time to earn the right to wear the costume. Understood?”
she suddenly threw back the single thin sheet covering U/us, revealing O/our nudity to the Man in the Moon as he watched U/us through the window. “Understood, Master,” she chimed, her fingers swiftly closing around My manhood as her head headed in the same direction…
she lay upon a fallen log in the grove of trees at the rear of O/our property. Nude except for her collar and cuffs, she was the embodiment of trust, the cuffs connected by chains to heavy metal stakes driven into the ground. I knelt beside the fallen log, caressing my loving wife’s back, gazing into her eyes.
“This evening is the first step toward earning the right to wear the costume,” I informed her. “See the fifteen candles spread out on the nearby boulder?” she nodded. “your backside will be completely covered by wax, from shoulders to feet, before tonight’s activity ends. If you make more than a soft moan or whimper, you will have one extra step to earn the right to wear the costume, understood?”
she simply nodded.
“you may answer. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master, i understand. i will not disappoint You, Master.”
“Whether you disappoint Me is not the issue here tonight. The issue is whether you can successfully complete this first step. Do you want to be blindfolded as well?”
she thought for a moment, then nodded. Reaching into the duffel bag I had brought with Me, I produced a leather blindfold and carefully affixed it to her head. Then, with a final kiss between her shoulder blades and a quick, playful slap to her rear, I stood and moved the duffel bag out of the way before taking the lighter from a pocket of My jeans to light the first candle.
I have always enjoyed watching My loving wife strain against her bonds during a waxing. This particular waxing session promised to be the best yet – from My point of view, at least. Never had I completely covered her with wax, so this would indeed be a very interesting session.
“i’m ready to go, Sir.”
Sitting on the sofa, I looked up from the magazine to find My beautiful young slave standing before Me, wearing a white Kodama t-shirt and tight off-white shorts. Her bra was fairly easy to see through the t-shirt, and I smiled – knowing that thunderstorms were predicted for the afternoon, I figured she would look quite nice and inviting when drenched.
I glanced down at her feet. “you will likely want to wear sandals instead of those flip-flops,” I advised. “It would be a real shame to lose them while on the rides.”
she thought for a moment. “Of course. Thank you, Master.” she turned to leave.
“Before you go, however…”
“As much as I like the Kodama t-shirt, take it off.”
As she complied, setting the garment on the end of the sofa, I reached behind and end pillow to where I had hidden two pieces of particularly-rough sandpaper. Looking up at her, I noticed the look of apprehension on her face, and smiled – more to Myself than to her. Standing, I walked behind her, and slipped a piece of sandpaper into each cup of her bra. “These are to remain in your bra until W/we return home tonight from the state fair, understand?”
“Yes, Master.” The dread in her voice was quite evident. “You plan to have me go on a number of rides today, don’t You, Master?”
“Why do you ask?” I inquired, hugging her from behind.
“Because as the roller coasters and other rides jostle me about, my breasts will be moving quite a bit inside my bra, sliding against the sandpaper.”
“Oh? Well, I wouldn’t know. After all, I don’t have breasts Myself.”
she actually giggled at that, and I knew she was beginning to feel a little more at ease about this scenario.
“Change into the sandals and put the t-shirt back on, and then W/we’ll go.”
“Yes, Sir.” she returned to the bedroom, leaving the t-shirt on the end of the sofa. I smiled appreciatively – she was following My instructions in order, which would provide Me a nice view of her cleavage when she returned. How thoughtful of her!!!
For several years, I had been slowly collecting sex sounds from the Internet – sounds of female masturbation, sounds of bondage play, sounds of actual intercourse – and had discovered early in O/our relationship that My young slave thoroughly enjoyed masturbating herself to repeated orgasms while listening to these sounds. So I had converted the more “expressive” ones into a format My CD burner could easily handle and created an audio CD of these sounds. On occasion, when she had been a particularly good slave or had merited a special treat, I would bring out the “sex CD” from its location in a locked desk drawer and put it into the stereo, playing on random repeat, watching as my slave brought herself to climax again and again and again until she could take no more, all while I watched with rapt attention and sheer joy at her performance.
This time, however, I had a different plan in mind.
I sat in the recliner, the “sex CD” in its thin plastic case on the lamp table. It was nearly 10PM, with the only light in the living room coming from the five burning candles perched equidistantly upon the mantle. Except for the occasional bark or meow of neighbors’ pets, all was silent.
At last, she made her entrance. Fresh from a long, well-deserved bubble bath, she smelled of a mixture of fruits, each distinct yet melding into a unique scent. Interestingly and to My amusement, My slave decided to present herself on hands and knees, crawling into the living room, stopping to kneel between My legs and looking up at Me with profound love and devotion in her eyes.
I pressed the backlight on My watch. “It is almost exactly 10PM now,” I informed her. “Take a pillow from the sofa, place it in the center of the room, and kneel facing Me.”
“Yes, Master.” My sweet slave crawled to the sofa, then dragged a pillow to the center of the room as she crawled again. The pillow in place, she knelt upon the pillow, facing Me.
“Place your hands on your thighs, the fingertips curling over your knees.”
“Yes, Sir.” she even spread her knees a little more, even though in the dark shadow from her right thigh prevented any “true” glimpse of her beautiful womanhood.
“This is another step in earning the right to wear the costume,” I informed her. “you are to remain in this position for one full hour. you may not touch yourself, nor may you rub your thighs together. you may not make any sound whatsoever. Is that understood, slave?”
“Yes, Master, i understand completely.”
I switched to the timer function of My watch, and set it for sixty minutes. Only then did I stand and pick up the “sex CD,” taking it to the stereo and inserting it in the CD player. Seconds later, the soft buzz of a vibrator resonated through the living room. I quickly glanced back at the woman kneeling on the pillow, and noticed her unmistakable smile.
“One hour,” I reminded her, then set the timer in motion before returning to the recliner.
Within minutes, her eyes were pleading with Me to provide her some relief. I did not need to touch her between her thighs to know that she was quite wet.
The “sex CD” meandered randomly from a woman with a vibrator, to a lesbian couple in (apparently) a sixty-nine position, to a woman experiencing a double penetration, to a young couple having rough sex, to a female slave rattling the chains of her bondage as she is being alternately beaten and dildoed, to a pair of lesbians enjoying a strap-on, to another woman loudly slurping a cock, to a woman fingering herself while another woman makes lewd comments, to another woman being expertly eaten.
Through it all, I gently touched Myself through My slacks, always enough to keep Myself on the edge without crossing over that precipice.
As the timer was ready to expire, I stood and approached, undressing just inches from My slave’s pleading eyes. I could tell she was nearly in “pain” from not being able to touch herself; she was Pavlov’s dog, and the “sex CD” was the bell. Fully nude at last, I stepped behind her, and knelt.
The very instant the watch alarm sounded, I shoved My slave forward onto her hands and knees, and quickly plunged into her hot deluge of liquid love. Bending far over her, My hands painfully gripping her hanging breasts for leverage, I took her rapidly, furiously, causing her voice to nearly drown out those coming from the speakers.
I was absolutely certain the neighbors would make some lewd comments in the morning.
her aural performance was just as superb as her physical performance, so I rewarded her with one less test to earn the right to wear the cat costume.
…at least, that is what I told her that night as W/we cuddled in bed.
“I know you have always been extremely self-conscious about being photographed or videotaped,” I said one evening as I sat in the recliner, My loving slave sitting in My lap and leaning against My chest as I gently stroked hers, “but that is the next step if you truly want to wear the costume for Halloween.”
After ignoring her pleas for some fifteen minutes, I finally said, “Enough! The filming session will be Saturday evening.”
Four days for her to dread this next “test.” Four days for her to imagine her worst fears. Four days that I could tease her mercilessly by simply reminding her of Saturday evening.
For My trusting slave, those four days must have dragged on interminably. For Me, those four days were swift in their passing.
When she finally stepped out of the house and onto the back porch, she looked both kinky and breathtaking. Clad entirely in black leather, she wore an open-cup bra with built-in collar, thong, thigh-high side-lacing boots, and elbow-length gloves. she had also added thick leather cuffs to her ankles and wrists.
“Your slave is ready, Master,” she said quietly, bowing to Me – certainly a nice touch.
“Come sit,” I noted, patting My thigh as I set My drink aside. she complied, leaning into Me as I gently brushed her hair from her face. The ensuing kiss was sensual, but I could definitely feel her nervousness.
“How do you feel?” I asked, gently rolling a nipple between My fingers.
“Nervous, Sir,” she replied, “and scared. A little angry as well, Master.”
“Because You have never done this to Me before, Sir. You know how adamantly i have expressed my non-desire to be videotaped or photographed except in mundane situations.”
“What is it that you fear or despise so much?”
“i have never been comfortable exposing myself to anyone but You, Master. But most importantly, i just don’t want the ‘wrong’ people to learn of O/our lifestyle. Even with the really tall fencing around the property, Master, i’m sure You remember just how long it took for me to become truly comfortable with playing outside.”
“I know, little one,” I whispered, kissing her cheek softly. “But remember, part of the fun and challenge of O/our play is pushing your limits, and this is one limit which W/we have yet to even touch.”
she simply nodded.
“So, I guess the next question is: Do you wish to use your safeword?”
“Not yet, Master,” she replied honestly. “If i did, i would have used it the moment You let me know about tonight, Sir.”
“I thought as much,” I said with a smile, then kissed her again. “Now, I hope that this evening will be as much fun for you as it will be for Me.”
“i hope You’re right, Master. i hope You’re right.”
W/we sat and cuddled on the porch swing a bit longer, the conversation meandering to mundane concerns as W/we shared the rest of the Sprite. But finally, it was time.
I sat for a moment, watching as My loving slave crawled down the steps and began the long trek across the vast yard to the small grove of trees at the back of the property. Ducking inside, I retrieved the prepared duffel bag of supplies and returned outside, quickly catching up with the crawling scantily-clad woman and matching her pace until W/we finally arrived at the grove. To her surprise, the tripod and digital camcorder were already in place, ready for use.
“Stand between those two trees.”
she slowly stood where I had indicated, and waited as I opened the duffel bag, and produced four lengths of chain with clips on either end of each. I checked that each cuff had been snugly buckled, then attached a chain to each cuff’s D-ring. Soon, she was essentially spread-eagle, chains taught as they pulled her limbs outward, the chains wrapped around nearby trees and secured back onto themselves. At last, I went over to the tripod and moved it to a better position, checking the view of My loving, apparently-nervous slave through the viewfinder.
“Shall I gag you?” I inquired.
“No, Master. i’ll remain quiet for You.”
“Good,” I said, “because I would hate for you to be drooling inside the hood.”
“Master?” her eyes and her spirits suddenly brightened.
I retrieved her seldom-used leather-hood from the duffel bag, and made My away behind her. It took some doing – as usual – to place the hood on her head and secure it with all her hair inside, but she did not seem to mind as I worked.
After I checked the image in the viewfinder again, I took out the weighted nipple clamps and returned to her. With the eye pads pre-affixed to the hood, she had no idea what I was about to do to her until the first clamp was applied, and it was definitely a struggle for her to not cry out even as she struggled in her bonds.
“Don’t you know that the more you struggle, the more the weight will jump about and yank even harder on your tender little nipples?” I taunted her. “Do you think that then you will still be able to keep quiet?”
Somehow, she stilled herself. I could hear her breathing heavily from behind the hood, and she still trembled quite visibly even though she no longer truly struggled. “Very good,” I praised her as I applied the second nipple clamp, and she amazingly did not struggle or cry out, but sweat was definitely forming upon her skin.
I returned to the digital camcorder, and made sure she was still in the center of the frame. Unless someone could identify My wife simply by her nose, she looked like any other random woman in leather with her chest hanging out and her nipples tortured by weighted clamps. I retrieved the digital camera from the duffel bag and took several pictures of her, staying far enough away from her so that she could not hear the shutter click as each image was taken. Then, on a whim, I lay on My back on the ground between her parted legs and captured an image of her from this unusual angle; she struggled and moaned something immediately afterward, obviously because she had heard the click of the shutter.
The digital camera put away, I checked the digital camcorder once more and began recording. Taking the long bullwhip from the duffel bag, I took up My position – behind her and to the side, out of the frame – and struck my slave fiercely across the shoulder blades. she yelped, but not loudly. I waited for her struggles to cease, counted to ten, then struck her again, across her upper thighs; this time, she remained perfectly quiet, but I was certain that the two strikes combined with the action of the weighted nipple clamps were causing her a fair amount of discomfort, if not actual pain.
After thirty strikes and no other sounds from My amazing wife, I returned to the digital camcorder and stopped the recording. How I longed to see the video of this later that night, but it would need to wait until she was asleep.
Then again, perhaps I could make her watch it as another step toward earning the right to wear the cat costume.
I removed the eye pads from the hood, and gazed into her weary eyes. “you did very, very well, little one,” I praised her, and she nodded her appreciation. “Now, once I release the chains from your cuffs, I want you to crawl back to the house while I put everything here away. Once inside, you may walk again, and take off the hood and get yourself a tall drink – you have definitely earned it.”
Once she was crawling away, I hurried to remove the digital camcorder from the tripod and recorded her crawling away from Me, her ass prominent due to the thong and swaying nicely. Certainly, her every movement jostled the weighted nipple clamps even more, causing her additional pain, yet onward she continued to crawl at a fairly brisk pace, never looking back, her head held high with pride.
When I finally returned to the house and set everything aside, she sat in the recliner, her eyes closed, her long hair definitely a mess, a tall empty glass in her hand. After setting everything down, I went over to her and kissed her.
Holding Me tightly, she screamed into My mouth as the clamps were finally removed. I cuddled her gently as the aftermath of the session finally caught up to her.
W/we returned from a nice dinner at a semi-formal restaurant. Before I shut off the engine, I instructed My beautiful slave to go directly to the basement playroom.
I purposely waited a while, making and drinking a cup of coffee before finally descending the stairs. When I finally opened the door to the playroom, I found My thoughtful slave had lit about a dozen candles and placed them about the cool chamber. Straightening My tie (more as a brief show than anything else), I closed the door behind Me and crossed over to her, taking her in My arms for a long embrace.
“i always feel so safe in Your arms, Master,” she admitted as she pressed her ear to My chest, doubtlessly enjoying the beating of My heart. “Uncomfortable at times as You push my limits, but always safe, Master.”
“As long as you’re safe,” I said softly, “I can endure anything. your submission to Me is definitely secondary to your safety.”
W/we kissed again, then I stepped away. “I think the stocks are called for tonight. It has been quite some time since they were last put to use.”
“Yes, Master.” The gleam in my submissive wife’s eyes confirmed that she had been hoping I would confine her in the stocks. “Where would You like for me to place the stocks, Sir?”
“Underneath the spotlight, please.” I sat in a leather-covered recliner as I watched her roll the heavy oak contraption across the room, then engage the six parking brakes. she was breathing somewhat heavily from her effort. she still wore her black V-neck knee-length dress with sequined bodice, matching demi-jacket, and beaded black heels; at the restaurant, no one but U/us knew that her legs were covered with black stockings held up by a black garter belt, and definitely no one but U/us knew that she wore no panties – having been ordered to remove them and leave them in the glove box before W/we had arrived at the restaurant. Only if people had looked very closely would they have known for certain that she wore a thin lacy black bra.
The beauty and elegance of My loving slave contrasted nicely with her labored breathing. I admired the contrast momentarily before finally rising and approaching her. “It is time,” I informed her.
“Yes, Master,” she replied, still somewhat breathy.
With a bit of effort, I lifted the top of the stocks, swinging it on its solid hinges. A close friend with a few slaves of Her own had provided upholstered padding for the three pairs of semi-holes, for which My wife was quite thankful during some of O/our longer sessions using the stocks. Once she was in position, I finally closed the top over her neck and wrists, securing the fit with the heavy bolt.
I walked around her once, admiring how her hair cascaded to obscure her face, noting the newly-polished red fingernails. she was bent almost exactly ninety degrees at the waist, providing the perfect height to service Me if I so chose – as I had so chosen on more than a few occasions in the past.
I knelt before the willing captive, parting her hair to look directly into her eyes. “This is the final step,” I told her softly. “What do you think this will entail?”
she thought for a moment. “You will beat me, Sir.” Not a question, a statement – a statement given with absolute certainty.
“How many times?”
she thought again. “Fifty, Master, with Your leather belt.”
I smiled, but shook My head. “Guess again.”
“One hundred times with the oak paddle with the heart cut-out at the center, Sir.”
I smiled and shook My head again. “you’re getting colder.”
she thought again. “Since i am not wearing any panties, Sir, do You plan to tease me for several hours?” A question – meaning that she was no longer certain what I had planned for her.
“I have considered that,” I admitted, “but not tonight, slave.”
she offered perhaps a half-dozen other ideas, but each one was rejected.
“you shall see, little one,” I finally said as I stood. “you shall see.”
Walking to the near wall, I turned on the spotlight. Even from its height well above her, I knew that My slave would quickly begin to warm from its heat. To let this sensation sink deep into her muscles, I removed and set aside My suitcoat, then slowly circled the room, waving My hand before each candle to extinguish its flame. By the time I had extinguished the final candle and picked up the one tool I would need, she was visibly sweating, and fidgeting in the stocks.
I made My way behind her, and knelt. Carefully, I helped her out of her heels, setting them aside. Reaching up between her spread legs, up underneath her dress, I briefly touched her, causing her to whimper softly and finding moisture of a very different kind emanating from within her.
“I could listen to those sounds all night long,” I said softly, “but that is not My plan for you tonight. But you will almost certainly wish that it had been My plan.”
Taking the tool with Me, I left the playroom momentarily, returning with a glass of ice water. I knelt before My captive wife, drinking slowly as she watched through her many strands of hair, adding a psychological torture to her physical discomfort.
Standing again, I walked to a small table and set the glass down, then returned to stand behind the sweating woman. Retrieving the tool from My back pocket, I knelt behind her again. This time, I lifted her dress, laying the skirt of the garment upon her lower back, exposing her charms to My gaze as she stiffened momentarily in anticipation. Feeling Myself begin to sweat underneath the heat of the spotlight, I stood and stepped back, into the shadows, waiting for My body to cool itself naturally, admiring the lewd view before Me.
At last, I moved back into position behind her, and pressed the blades of My tool – EMT scissors – against her left thigh. she stiffened again, knowing metal was pressed against her skin but apparently uncertain as to what was the source of the metal. As I began to sweat again, I stepped back into the shadows once more.
Eventually, I returned to her. Deftly, I cut the top of her right stocking, working My way down to her foot, and removed the decimated item. Sweating again, I stepped back into the shadows.
The process repeated, garment by garment, working slowly. When I was finally finished, she was sobbing uncontrollably.
I had just destroyed one of her favorite dresses.
As My wife cried softly, I strolled around the chamber, once again lighting the candles; once they were all aflame, I turned off the spotlight, then went into the “public” part of the basement for a few supplies. When I returned with a bucket of water and a sponge, I gave her a sponge bath, helping to cool her slowly as her tears finally subsided.
“Congratulations,” I said softly. “The cat costume is now yours.”
“Thank You, Master,” she replied quietly, her voice still wavering. “Thank You, Master.”
The Sunday afternoon before Halloween has traditionally been the designated time for the area’s Trick-or-treating, and this year was no different.
That morning, following a late breakfast, I ordered My worthy slave to relax in a hot bubble bath. When she finally emerged and stepped nude into the bedroom, she smelled sweetly of oranges. I watched with a smile as she stood at the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door, brushing her wet hair. At last, she returned to the bed and slowly put on the black thong I had set out for her.
I held out My hand to her, and she came to the chair where I sat. Gently, I suckled a nipple, caressing her as she cradled My head in her hands. After relaxing her with this gentle treatment, I painfully crushed a nipple with my teeth, causing her fingers to curl in My hair as she tried – unsuccessfully – to squelch a yelp. I released her and gave her an evil grin, then sent her down to the basement playroom.
When I arrived a few minutes later, My slave stood at the full-length mirror, inspecting her tortured bud. I went to the coils of rope along one wall and called her to Me, then proceeded to construct torso bondage on her, making sure the crotch rope was quite tight against her with a double-knot pressing directly against her clitoris.
“Crawl,” I then instructed, watching as the obedient slave dropped to her hands and knees, gasping softly as her movement caused the crotch rope to slide against her. “I will meet you back in the bedroom.”
By the time she arrived, I had the cat costume awaiting her on the bed. I ordered her to stand, and as soon as she saw it, she fawned. It was clear that she could not decide whether to touch the costume or crush Me with a bear hug, but after a short hesitation, she opted for the latter first.
Once the costume was on, she could not keep her hands off it, and for good reason. While the manager at the costume store had assured Me that the “fur” of the costume were 100% synthetic, I Myself had a hard time believing her claim, as stroking the costume felt almost exactly the same as stroking a real live cat. The manager had been able to make a few minor adjustments to the costume, so it fit extremely snugly to My wife’s form, yet it still hid the confining ropes quite due to the thick “fur.”
“you look like a black cat,” I praised her, “only with a human face and just barely five feet tall.”
she laughed at that, admiring herself in the door-mounted mirror. her breasts were less evident, but evident nonetheless; I took advantage of the moment to step up behind her (with her thick tail slightly in the way) and cup the twin protrusions, watching her reflection in the mirror as she closed her eyes and gave in to My touch.
“All you need now is the make-up, then I will help you into the paws.” she nodded, and I sat on the bed, waiting as she returned to the bathroom to apply make-up. When she returned, she had a blackened nose, thin black whiskers, slightly-rosy cheeks, and the barest hint of gloss upon her lips.
she looked delicious.
“Come here, pussy.”
she gave a soft mew, sounding very much like a young kitten, as she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled the short distance to Me. In turn, she lifted each hand to My lap so I could apply each paw, a nicely-designed “glove” which would be a bit heavy in weight on the back of the hand as the paw extended out over her fingers; yet underneath the paw itself were thin black gloves, thus allowing her to have full use of her hands.
Just perfect for giving candy to the children.
“Now, here are your instructions for the afternoon,” I told her as I stood, looking down upon her, admiring her love-filled eyes. “you will only speak Cat for the afternoon, and you will act like a cat as well. The only exception to the latter is that you will answer the door, give away candy, and close the door as necessary. Is that understood, pussy?”
she nodded and meowed her assent.
“If pussy does as instructed, pussy will be eaten tonight.”
she nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling.
“And, as a special bonus, she will be taken for a walk on Halloween night.”
her mew had a questioning tone as she cocked her head at Me, but I simply turned and walked away. “It’s time. Come, pussy.”
Halloween night, I pulled into an empty space in the south parking lot of the city’s main park. My slave was again wearing the cat costume, again in torso bondage, but this time wearing a bra with a piece of sandpaper in each cup, and with a remote-controlled vibrating egg buried within her and buzzing gently. On the outside of her costume, she wore a harness, to which I attached a leach at the center of her back before I allowed her to exit the car and drop to her hands and knees on the pavement. This time, she also wore a thin red collar with a bell at the front, purposely to call more attention to her.
I had somewhat suspected that she would feel “on display” like this – if she did, it obviously did not bother her. By city tradition, tonight was a night to see and be seen, and certainly there was a lot to see.
Many people had gone to great lengths with their costumes as they strolled aimlessly through the park. A tall teenage girl had “borrowed” My slave’s original idea and made a costume of the transformed Jubei, one which caused My feline slave to pause and look with envy in her eyes. A pair of men walked by looking and sounding almost exactly like Al Michaels and John Madden, which certainly caught My attention at just how well these two had adopted the sportscasters’ mannerisms.
But without question, everyone gave My feline slave several looks, and many commented as they passed U/us. “I’ve seen people walk cats before,” one woman commented aloud to her equally-surprised friend, “but never have I seen people walk people before!” I simply laughed softly while pussy gave a soft mew and plodded along the sidewalk.
Perhaps an hour later, knowing that the combination of the crotch rope, the sandpaper, and the vibrating egg must be taking their toll on her, I led the oversized feline back to the car. she probably assumed that I was about to take her back home, but I instead went to the trunk and retrieved a pet bowl, then led her to the nearby picnic pavilion. I filled the bowl from one of the faucets in the side of the building, then set the bowl down on the cement floor, in plain view of a heavily-trafficked walking trail. For the first time of the evening, she looked up at Me with questioning eyes and a mew of uncertainty, but I simply gestured to the bowl, and she resigned herself to the public degradation.
“Well, I never!” someone commented as My feline slave slowly lapped at the water with her tongue. I sat at a picnic table and stroked her “fur,” smiling at My brave slave. she must have lapped at the water for a full five minutes before she finally lifted her head to look at Me, her face red with embarrassment and her eyes pleading for mercy.
“Let’s go, pussy,” I whispered softly, and she mewed quietly as she nodded slowly.
Still harnessed, I tossed the rest of the water onto the grass, then walked the feline back to the car. For the first time in over an hour, she was permitted to stand so I could remove the leash and help her into the car. As she waited, I put the bowl away in the trunk, and produced a bottle of water from the cooler. Once in the car, I gave her the cool drink, which she chugged gratefully as I drove U/us home in silence.
That night, as W/we lay in bed, spooning with Me inside her, I held her tightly. “you did very, very, very well today, little one.”
“Thank You, Master,” came her quiet reply. “Do You think W/we can do this again, Master, for next Halloween?”
I thrust gently into her in response. she gave a mew of assent.
“Does this mean I should call you ‘pussy’ from now on?” I chided.
“Please, Sir, yes!”
“Then so it shall be… pussy.”
she mewed again in assent, obviously enjoying the new role.