2 – Tuesday Night
Kim leaned back in her chair with her feet up on her desk, running her highlighter over a freshly printed draft of her latest attempt at a novella. Another mistake she’d have to correct. Another line that didn’t hit the notes she was going for. The page– like so many others in her manuscript– stared back at her with an angry red tone the color of infection.
An infection of poor ideas, flat characters and a plot with more gaping holes than a fisting website. Kim stared at the tangled mess of proof reading marks, frowning. If her online sales were any indication, her would be readers felt the same way she did about her writing– though the comments had been generous, the sales told a completely different story.
Kim thumped the manuscript against her freshly painted thighs, lips churning as she weighed it out in her mind. Something about a sapphic pirate adventure had sounded fun as a concept, but with thirty six thousands words written and no concrete ending in sight, she couldn’t help but think of it as a complete waste of time. The parrots were cool, but the only booty getting found and pillaged was her bottle of No-Doze.
“Fine, fuck it.” She muttered to herself and dumped the manuscript in the bottom drawer.
The dream of being a writer wasn’t going to let her go that easily– she’d had false starts and plenty of them. One after another after another– and one more, just for good measure. In reality, the only thing she’d been able to do to make money was working for someone else. . . .that was even before she had become a maid.
Kim closed her eyes for a moment as a tiny shiver ran through her. One week in and she’d apparently impressed her employers enough to not only invite her back, but to pay her quite well to do so. Sylvia had focused on ‘training’ her and they both enjoyed the results of that training, praising her, giving her a position of trust and. . . .Kim sunk her teeth into her lower lip; and there was last Saturday. Where she’d earned her title of kitten.
When she’d become their catgirl maid.
She shivered again, recalling her master’s demand as they lay in his bed. After he’d teased her into a lust drunken stupor and made her the family kitten. The feeling of his strong hands on her hips, the utterly fulfilling sensation of being reminded she wasn’t just attractive, but worthy of being lusted after.
They both had, in that special way, initiated her into their lives and home. In their home she was competent, she was cared for, she was special to them. Kim whispered a soft, sultry purr. “Come in me, master.”
A nervous chuckle crossed her lips. “I’ve lost my mind. . .” Kim exhaled a long sigh, staring at her computer monitor. The wallpaper on it depicted a paw print in riotous colors against a black background; a reminder of the insanity her life had dropped her into. A weird thought occurred to her as she stared at it.
Maybe pirates weren’t the way to go.
Maybe there was a story to be told with the tail.
Kim glanced at the clock and fired up her word processor, murmuring as she fingered the keys deftly.. “How I Became a Catgirl Maid.”
Kim was up and out the door early enough to catch Elliot before he left for work, she’d gone out of her way to bring him a cup of coffee and a muffin to start the day right and- in some small way- reclaiming some of her pride in a job well done.
“Master McKenna, good morning!” She offered a small bow with the cup in one hand and bag in the other. She’d caught him outside with her bounty, and upon seeing her he actually seemed to relax. He strode up to her with an approving once- twice- thrice-over, his gaze lingering on her curves before sliding up to her own. He studied her for a moment, stepped closer and took the proffered breakfast.
“Thank you, Kim. The lenses, ah. . . .maybe do without them.”
“Of course, master McKenna.” She inclined her head a bit.
The younger man chuckled as he stroked her chin, lifting her head with a finger. “Both of us like your natural eyes–” he cut himself off. Then considered her and smirked. With his finger still supporting her head, he leaned in and murmured into her cat ear. “We both like the way you look up at us from your knees.”
Kim swallowed. “I- uhm. . . .I’m glad. M-” She cleared her throat. “Master McKenna?”
“I. . .” No. No, she couldn’t tell him about the story she’d written. She couldn’t tell him about the fantasies she’d fulfilled in it– she couldn’t shame herself that way. Could she? No, no. “Dammit, think! “Kim reached for something. Anything. “I- I– I was hoping I could talk to you, about my tail. . .”
He drew back slightly to give her his full attention now. “You don’t like it?”
“Too much.” She blushed as she glanced away. That came out way too fast.
Elliot nodded. “So, what’s the issue?”
“I uhm–” bursa escort her blush deepened, she lowered her gaze between them. “I was hoping you might consider replacing it some evening.”
“Replacing it. . .? With wha– Oh, you think I’d take it out?” He cupped her cheek. “Kim? Something you want to share with me?”
The older maid fidgeted, her “It’s just– you, uh. . .”
“Kim. Stop. Take a breath, and say what’s on your mind.”
“I like when you play with it– but. . . .but I’m wondering what else can be done with it? If that makes sense?”
Elliot smirked. “Ah, so you’ve never done that?”
“N- No.” That earned her a thoughtful smile from the younger man. “I mean- I–”
“Kim, stop.” He confidently stepped into her space and gently slid his hand down her side, resting firmly on her hip- strong. Calm. “If I take that out, you stop being our kitten. I suppose for a little while it might not be so bad, but I might need a little convincing.” His hand slid further back, cupping her holdable ass- two fingers pressed right against the base of the plug.
“Ah-” Kim sucked air in through her teeth, arching obediently to her master. She looked up with invitation, hope coursing through her body; her master could have anything he chose. She needed to remember that. “Puh-” she swallowed. “Please?”
Then drew back when she tried to touch him. “I’ll think about it, Kimberly.” With that he stepped back further and turned to his truck, giving her a wink as he set out for work. She stood there in the drive for a moment with a frown, guilt itching at the back of her mind while she watched his truck roll out to the main road.
The part of her that told her she was a good maid said she was betraying some part of her employer’s secrets with even fantasizing about she had last night, yet the more insidious parts of her mind told her she was being selfish not sharing with those who were ostensibly her betters. . .
In the midst of her hazy uneasiness the front door opened and Sylvia had taken to watching her over the rim of her coffee cup. Eventually she punctuated her observation by clearing her throat.
Kim looked back hoping her blush wasn’t showing too much. “Mistress Mc-”
“You’re early,” Sylvia cut her off. “I suppose you’ll expect some reward for it.”
Kim exhales through her nose, squared her shoulders and tried to rally herself. “No, mistress McKenna, I was trying to ensure I was punctual today.” She said it with perhaps more emphasis than was strictly necessary. “I would be a bad maid if I was late twice in a row.”
“Mmm,” the younger woman’s mismatched eyes lingered on her for a moment. Then they started following her outline, the gaze of a predatory animal considering how to pounce. When she was finished with her estimation, she took a sip and adjusted her terry cloth robe and spoke in a tone somehow soft and inviting while leaving no room for questions. “When you’ve finished with your work, I want to see how well you dance.”
“D- dance?” Kim frowned. “Of course, Mistress McKenna.”
Somehow she couldn’t think of it as anything other than punishment for her lying by omission, but Kim went through her daily chores– including making lunch for Sylvia and carefully entering her art room with the requisite knocking and permission. This time, she was invited and pleased to find the mistress in a better mood.
Sylvia’s newest piece was some kind of wide dragon perched on a castle’s ruins and looking up. She was just starting to apply paint to the outline when Kim finished laying out lunch. When she came back later to collect the dishes Sylvia hadn’t touched a bite but she’d changed her painting somewhat, encircling the dragon with a halo of glass and a massive drinking glass turned upside down to contain the otherwise fearsome scene. Kim didn’t interrupt as she collected the untouched food, not even when she came back with a snack that wouldn’t go off.
Somehow the painting reflected the woman, Kim was sure of it; a force of capricious danger under control where it stayed because it wanted to be there, not because it couldn’t break the glass. Was that how she and Elliot got along so well? Or at all?
From what Kim had seen, it made sense but maybe she was reading too far into it. From what she’d seen of Sylvia, the young woman had a hell of a chip on her shoulder and she wasn’t shy about letting people see it– it made her distinctly unlikable at first, but as time went on Kim had gotten used to it and for her part, Sylvia seemed to genuinely make an effort to be amiable.
Still, the thought of Elliot taming Sylvia’s dragon amused her. . . .in the same sort of way they were both taming her, making her comfortable without frenzied demand. Sure, there was hesitation along the way- mostly on Kim’s part- but they were careful with every step because they wanted to make their little catgirl maid something enjoyed by all parties. bursa escort bayan
If it was any indication of their success, Kimberly eased her way up to the door to Sylvia’s study and gave a knock. “Mistress, may I come in?” She actually held her breath waiting for the reply. . .
Sylvia kept her waiting for several moments until she was damn good and ready to invite the maid into her personal sanctum. It was the one room in the house in which there was a genuine feeling of sanctimony, the kind of space in which everyone else tip toed and paid reverence– Sylvia its keeper, it’s guardian.
But did that make Kim a supplicant?
Maybe it did.
The woman with the mismatched eyes stepped back in her bath robe with the slightest flourish, unleashing a tangy scent of allspice incense and the slow rhythmic beat of drums filling the silence by way of a cd player on her shelf. It was almost like she’d read Kim’s mind, as if at any moment bold linens would drop down to cover the walls and somehow convert the place into a shrine- to what, Kim wasn’t sure.
The easel and today’s project were tucked into a corner, covered and protected from potential gaze. The snacks Kim had brought likewise sat untouched. That stung more than it should have. The shorter woman was staring at Kim thoughtfully now, sizing her up while she eased herself into the center of the room which she’d meticulously cleared.
“Come here,” she said firmly. Unconcerned that Kim might say no. She knew better in her sanctum. “Stand up straight, shoulders easy- feet should width apart.” When Kim followed the instructions her green and brown gaze unwavering, drinking in Kim’s outline, considering. Plotting. Enjoying?
Sylvia stepped around her and gently pressed two fingers to Kim’s lower back, sliding her fingers up either side of her spine. Up and down, stroking her like a pet. Kim held firm to her spot, unsure if a movement would draw her ire. The shorter woman gingerly brought herself around, half into Kim’s peripheral vision looking up at her with a faintly predatory gleam.
“Do I scare you?” She whispered breathily. “You’re stiff as a board.”
Kim tried to force herself to relax, to tell- no, show- her mistress that she genuinely did enjoy this new job, that she wasn’t scared of what it might’ve meant to get too deeply involved with these people. To enjoy her master and mistress the way they apparently enjoyed her. And yet, she couldn’t. Her body warned her she was in a space not her own, with a woman who was different from the dragon in her painting only in that she didn’t have scales. . .
“You can answer me,” Sylvia purred a low sigh across Kim’s neck. Her hand slid up to cup one shoulder, perhaps a sign of deference. Maybe she knew she’d pushed too hard and scared the family maid. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again. In fact, it felt like an apology.
As much as Kim was ever going to get from her mistress anyway.
Eventually Kim rallied her voice into a soft murmurer. “A little.”
Sylvia’s other hand came to Kim’s shoulder, lightly. Barely registering. A feather’s touch through the silky fabric of her maid’s uniform. Carefully she began tracing the muscles her fingers found, down the outsides of her neck to her back, sliding down further and further until her hands braced Kim’s floating ribs tenderly. She pressed her smaller form to the maid’s back, whispering against her neck in that self assured tone that only Elliot ever seemed to wield. If he used it like a painter’s brush, Sylvia’s version of that same tone was a detail brush that swept over the tiny hairs on Kim’s neck– closer and closer until those thin lips were touching her already warming flesh.
“Don’t listen to the music, don’t focus on it. . . .live it.” With that she tenderly eased Kim’s weight left and right- subtle, slow. Careful. “Bum. Bum. Bum.” She intoned with every thump of the drums, following every movement. “Left, right. Left-” She cut off abruptly when Kim started to pick up the tempo. A little swaying, left and right. Easy enough. Kim swallowed.
The moment wound on with every breath carrying a new kind of meaning to Kim, like some territory she was being lead through. Sylvia continued touching her while she swayed more confidently, at first it felt silly but with Sylvia’s demand so potent in the ‘request’ Kim couldn’t help but sink into it. Left, right. . .
Slowly the younger woman’s hands trailed down Kim’s sides to her waist. Her hands clasped there for a moment- possessive, firm. Like Elliot. “Raise your arms slowly, hold them out– no, too stiff. Just drape them out like your hands are holding them.”
“Like this?” Kim whispered as she let her arms go more limp.
Sylvia let out a soft sigh right across Kim’s shoulders, half purr half breath, it prickled with a reminder of how fierce she could be. Yet in this moment she was the most tender creature Kim had ever come across, somehow without sacrificing her escort bursa power. While she held Kim’s waist and started to urge her left and right, her grip tightened and flexed. Eased when she was doing well, tightened when she wasn’t moving correctly.
Kim started to glance back at her but she stopped when Sylvia’s fingers continued to slide further down, lower to cup her hips directly. “Bend your knees slightly, a little more.” Sylvia held her in that pose for a moment, seeming to consider her catch. Eventually her hands eased forward to press against either side of Kim’s hips. Her voice was low and thick. “Feel this?”
“K- Kind of hard not to.”
“Straighten this leg,” she tapped Kim’s right leg, her fingers brushing against the sensitive spot between her pelvis and leg. Lingering. Dangerously close to the frill on Kim’s uniform. “Feel your hip flexors move.”
Kim did as instructed and straightened her leg causing her hip to rise. With it, Sylvia’s hand rose to her hip. Clutching. God, when had this happened? Kim’s face felt hot and her pulse worked a steadily faster beat against her ribs.
“You feel that? Every muscle, around here to your inner thighs– they’re anchored there, all the way. . . .up to your lower back.” With those words her fingers drew back and up to follow Kim’s lower back. “All the way from here to down there.”
Sylvia retraced the journey over the satin of Kim’s uniform, around her generous hip to the inner muscles of her thigh where her fingertips rested casually. Firmly in control even now. With every subtle movement, Sylvia accented it with a press of her fingers, drawing attention to those muscles. Kim closed her eyes for a moment letting the younger woman prove her ‘point’ becoming freshly aware of how her muscles worked and how they in turn moved her.
“Now alternate. Left, right.” She commanded- Kim obeyed. Feeling without being touched, the shift of her body’s weight and the muscles pushing. Sylvia’s fingers eventually came back to guide her attention to both hips now, from her inner thighs to the way her hips moved. She guided Kim through the steps of this odd new dance with a firm, demanding hand that didn’t relent when Kim started taking up the rhythm on her own.
She didn’t earn praise for her initiative, that wouldn’t have been Sylvia’s style, but something in the air between them changed. The younger woman eased her grip and slid her hands up, exploring Kim’s muscles, to her back, her arms, to her hands, interlacing her fingers briefly before she pulled her hands back to rest on her own hips. When she did, Sylvia continued outlining the muscles that were working– across Kim’s belly, up her back, exploring all she could find for the first time since they’d met.
Then came the quiet confession, something so low Kim had to struggle to hear it. “I was ready to write you off.” Her hands came to hold Kim’s waist once more. “But Elliot insisted we try you for a week. . .”
“Regretting it?” Kim glanced back.
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” With that, she stepped around the taller maid and considered her thoughtfully. “Here, again from the top. Your chest to your hips- no, your hands out, too.” Kim followed the ‘lesson’ she’d been given, easing her weight left and right before shimmying her hips for the young mistress. Sylvia pouted her lips slightly, gave Kim a look. “You’ve the body for it.”
Kim flushed hotly, glancing away. “The mistress is kind to say so–”
“She’s many things. Now, again from the top. . . .slowly. Show me you understand.” Sylvia’s gaze grew more intent as she watched Kim repeat the actions again, Kim felt suddenly aware of how she could’ve stood to lose a few pounds– this fit, athletic young woman eying her only made her more conscious of her extra weight. Not that it was terribly much. No, to Elliot she was ‘right sized’. His lust had made that more than apparent.
Sylvia stepped in to Kim’s space and took her chin lightly, still holding her gaze. “Are your chores done?”
“Y- Yes, mistress.”
“Mmm, so I have you to myself for the rest of the afternoon, do I?”
Was it a test? Of course it was a test. Kim knew better than getting suckered in like that. Then there was the matter of personal- professional?- pride that wouldn’t let her just throw herself out of her own job. “I’ll still need to make dinner.”
“So I shouldn’t make you sweat, then.” Sylvia patted Kim’s cheek, took a step back and held her hands up with her feet a little bit apart. She flicked her hips left, right, rolling her slender form in a way that Kim had never seen before; she moved like water, flowing from one step to the next raising her hands over her head and twisting with the steps of a tempestuous dance that sang of waves smashing into rocks. She rolled, pivoted, flit her hips side to side under her housecoat, twirling with a flourish as she casually broke into Kim’s space and pressed herself back to chest.
Kim watched- gawked, more accurately– while Sylvia continued her dance. When it slowed in tempo to a steady thrum Sylvia looked up to her with a smirk. They stared at one another for a long moment before Sylvia planted her hands on her hips. “You’re blushing.”